Interior Catholic

  • Where I Want to Be

    For the most part, I think we’ve all done pretty well despite a bad situation. I was recently looking at photos of the Spanish Flu epidemic—everyone in masks and gloves, sitting on opposite sides of train cars to prevent contamination. It’s creepy in its now-familiarity. The big difference, of course, is our access to the virtual sphere. They were unable to work from home, received the latest news from an actual newspaper, and likely couldn’t attend church at all.

    I was working on a completely different blog post this week. (We’ll discuss Bl. Justo Takayama later!) But I see that now as an attempt to ignore the way I feel about the world right now. Some days it feels like the world is on fire, and I’m having a harder and harder time focusing on my work. So let’s be honest—things are not okay. And all it took were a few text messages asking after my spiritual health for me to realize the depth of it.

    Considering the circumstances, it’s not wrong to be a little panicked right now. It’s been so long since we’ve had some semblance of a “normal” life and routine. Lately, I’ve been keeping myself busy with little things I’ve been meaning to do: sew a shirt hem; do a jigsaw puzzle; finish that video game. That’s all fine, but I’ve been ignoring the bigger things. Like talking to God and being honest about my feelings.

    We’re blessed that virtual Mass is an option. Even though the archived livestream is available whenever, I shut everything down at 5:30 Saturday to attend. It was weird at first, watching a live feed from a parish a mere mile away. But like other strange routines, it became normal. It wasn’t until I was in the church parking lot this week, staring at the locked front doors from my car, that I understood how much I missed it. And I cried.

    In a strange way, it made me think of this blog. It began as a chronicle of my conversion, a journey I proudly and publicly shared. There was a lot to learn; I was absorbing everything and was unashamed about my feelings. I’ve lost a little of that along the way. Some weeks these posts are merely informative, or just a book review (books are very important, though). There have been a couple weeks I didn’t post anything at all, mostly for lack of time. But I’m rarely honest anymore. I don’t discuss what’s going on in my spiritual life. I’ll talk about my thoughts or opinions, but not my faith. It’s suffered the same fate as my life as a whole, when it was supposed to be my [virtual] spiritual retreat.

    Where do I want to be? I want to be in church, certainly. But I also want to be myself, unashamedly spilling my feelings and crying over a love of Jesus. We all ache for “normal” again, where going to work or a restaurant is simple. We have no control over that timing, but I can control my own “normal” life of devotion. This is a journey, and I’ve been standing still for a while.

    I’m sorting through a lot of mental and spiritual stuff right now. What I really want from my spiritual life, and how to hear God despite my fears and judgements. But it’s hard to be honest with yourself. I simply want to be joyful and unashamed, which is strangely difficult for me to do. But like any healing, the first step is admitting that you need it. Maybe I’m supposed to be stuck at home for a while. Now I have no excuse, with all the time I’m saving by not commuting or attending various volunteer meetings.

    I want my normal life back, but more than that, I want that union with Jesus again.

  • A Different Kind of Holy Week

    Last time I attended Mass in person, nearly a month ago, my hand froze over the empty holy water font. It took a moment to realize it had been drained to prevent the spread of a virus that was just starting to hit the area. But I crossed myself with dry fingers and went to my usual pew, as if everything were normal.

    That empty font was as unsettling as it is on Good Friday, when no one quite knows what to do without it. As a result, these last few weeks have felt like one long fast. Now that Good Friday is actually upon us, there’s an odd sense of relief. Tomorrow, we’ll still be Livestreaming Mass. We’ll still be wearing masks and gloves, six feet away from our neighbors. But Jesus will be alive.

    During one virtual visio divina, we learned the etymology of the word quarantine: it derives from the Latin quadraginta, which means “forty.” In fact, its first dictionary definition is “a period of 40 days.” We have truly mimicked Jesus’s retreat into the desert. It’s not quite the same—with all the comforts of modern living, and food in the fridge—but the emotional and mental strain has been a challenge unto itself.

    This Holy Week isn’t what I had planned. I’d taken vacation time this week, scheduling a two-day silent retreat to start it off. I’d planned a day of hiking (weather permitting), and perhaps a visit to the spa (a little self-indulgence). I was to clear my mind of the world’s worries and refocus on Jesus. Bonus that this week is also my two-year Catholic anniversary!

    None of that happened. I even ended up working through Thursday, since I’d be be home anyway. But despite our isolation, we’ve done more to connect with one another—there are Livestreams and virtual prayer; religious companies are offering free materials; homes have branches in their windows rather than the customary palms. We’re feeling the absence of a church community, and definitely the absence of the Eucharist. But as the Spiritual Communion prayer states, “Since I cannot at this moment receive You sacramentally, come at least spiritually into my heart.” There’s certainly no shortage of heart right now.

    I’ll be sad to miss the glory of the Easter Vigil (again—let’s not forget what happened last year). I’ll be virtually seeing my family rather than crowding us all into one house. But it’s still a celebration, because it’s still Easter. And like Jesus’s temptation in the desert, this quarantine, too, will one day be over.

And they said to him, “Inquire of God, we pray thee, that we may know whether the journey on which we are setting out will succeed.”

And the priest said to them, “Go in peace. The journey on which you go is under the eye of the LORD.”

—Judges 18:5–6

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