Let the Watchman Count on Daybreak
The secular authorities urge us to respond the earthly, medical crisis with vigilance, distance, isolation and alarm. As men and women of faith, we can subvert these responses as precepts...
When our Lord was being taken from the Garden of Gethsemane, we read that “Simon Peter, having a sword, drew it, and struck the servant of the high priest, and cut off his right ear.” The current pandemic presses down upon us with an ever evolving set of demands, not the least of which, has included the denial of the sacraments in the lives of the faithful. We must consider, too, in our approach, a discernment of how one could, or should respond, when our Lord is taken away from us. The secular authorities urge us to respond the earthly, medical crisis with vigilance, distance, isolation and alarm. As men and women of faith, we can subvert these responses as precepts, to ensure “the crooked shall be made straight; and the rough ways plain.”
Vigilance yes. Ever and always. Although we should be less worried about us coughing into our elbows, and more concerned about the erosion of our faith life, under the “dictatorship of hygiene,” as my parish priest phrased it. We must take every caution to balance the reasonable demands of authorities with the immutable demands of faith, life and family. Social distancing at mass was a reasonable step, a reasonable demand. The limiting of numbers in the church, again, understandable. The suspension of public masses was questionable, and regrettable. But complete and resolute closure of church buildings, leaving us unable to even visit the Blessed Sacrament was draconian and spiritually suicidal.
When calamities such as this pandemic strike, the opportunity to undermine, erode and attack the faith is clear. When one is duly committed to diminishing reverence, duty, and the supernatural foundation of Holy Mother Church and Her sacraments, the suspension of the Sunday obligation suddenly permits and even validates the laxity and lukewarm faith of those who see fit to grace a church with their worship, only on major feasts. When the church doors are systemically locked, confession cancelled until further notice, and baptisms indefinitely put on hold - we must question whose interests we serve and who benefits from such a rupture of reverence and grace? In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul reminds us that “our wrestling is not against flesh and blood; but against principalities and power, against the rulers of the world of this darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places.” Vigilance is critical - spiritual, more so than temporal.
And distance? Of course. Does not the practice of our faith demand a disciplined distance from the things of this world set before us to allure, distract and disarm us? The temptation to binge on any given streaming service is certainly a tantalising option for one instructed to stay at home, lest you court, carry or contract the pestilence. However, now more than ever, we are invited to draw away from “the concupiscence of the flesh, and the concupiscence of the eyes, and the pride of life, which is not of the Father, but is of the world.” There is a place for art, for entertainment, for leisure, but we must ever and always attend to scripture, prayer and personal devotion by which we draw closer to our Lord, rather than further into the fifth season of some inane series that does nothing for our spiritual nourishment. Maintain your distance, yes, but from the right things, and for the right reasons.
And thus, isolation? No. As the Body of Christ, let us seek rather, solitude. God has returned us, resolutely, into the realms of our own homes, sans the blood of a lamb on the doorpost perhaps, but into our homes nonetheless. We remember how “Mary hath chosen the best part, which shall not be taken away from her.” Let us too, renew each of our own domestic churches, and bring a silence, space and peace into our homes, steeped in prayer and at the feet of Christ, who eternally, upon His throne, will “make all things new.” The tumult and clamour of the media, the panic, the alarm, must be set aside in the sanctuaries we build for our families. We must recall Elijah, on Mt Carmel, who knew that the Lord was not in the strong wind, the earthquake, or the fire, but “a whistling of a gentle air. And when Elias heard it, he covered his face with his mantle.” Let us build a space, silence and solitude in which we can hear the Word of God reach us, only when all else is set aside, particularly in a period of endless commentary, tumult and noise.
And the disposition to alarm? Never. I recall Fr Greg Homeming (now the Bishop of Lismore), the Carmelite friar who lead the Melbourne OCDS community in a reflection shortly before the priory in Box Hill would be closing. “But father,” we asked, saddened by the loss of the priory, “what will we do? Aren’t you upset?” The diminutive, prayerful man sat before us, his hands clasped gently and replied, “What is to be done? God has allowed it. That’s all I know. And that is enough” It was a humbling, reassuring certitude in the midst of another crisis that yes, God has indeed allowed it, as he has allowed this.
Most days, I have the honour and pleasure of working with the most wonderful young people I have ever met. They are dignified, gracious and devout. They ask: is this a chastisement? Is this divine wrath? How does one answer a young person, filled with fear, as to whether the hand of God acts to correct the course of human history once more? Has He, as a loving father done so before? Yes, certainly. Could he do so again? Yes, of course. Could this be so, now? Undoubtedly. Am I qualified to answer with certainty, whether it is or isn’t? No. I am not that man. What matters though, is that we understand, acknowledge and accept the very possibility of such.
Many have rightly observed that we live in an age of rampant secularity, paganism and idolatry. The modern sensibility has turned away from the Creator, to the creation, filling the streets, hearts and minds with a worship of a ‘Mother Earth’ that cries out to be avenged, for the progress, wonder and comforts of modern civilisation. Our medical establishment, tainted by the most cynical misogyny conspire to worship a new Moloch, revered as the ultimate right and choice of every woman, turning life into a pathogen, the womb into a desecrated tabernacle of God’s love. The World Health Organisation estimates that annually, 40-50 million children are murdered through the bloody profanation of a woman’s body and the gift of life.
Literally and tangibly, an actual statue of Moloch has been erected at the entry to the Colosseum, a sacred ground of Christian sacrifice. The Little Flower herself writes of having “pressed my lips to the dust reddened with the blood of the early Christians.” The desecration of our own Church is lauded with the idolatrous adoration of the Pachamama, at the Vatican itself, in full view of the Holy Father. Western societies have abandoned the faith, tradition and culture that has been the very foundation of our way of life, granting a sense of dignity and wonder to every life and every marriage.
It’s now thrown away in the mockery of God’s creation, His sacraments, the unity of one man and one woman distorted and mimicked in a modern pageantry that dispenses with the fundamental complementarity and consummation that bound the very notion of marriage for millennia. We pretend that we can modify, amend, distort the very notion of man and woman, to bring a creation of our own into being, drunk with hubris and hatred for the perfection of God’s will, his handiwork, the infinite delicacy, purpose and precision of his design. And it is these efforts to distort and deny God’s wonders that are held up as the great progress of our age. I have no authority with which to argue, definitively, that a chastisement is upon us. I do have enough common sense however, not to rule it out.
And now? Will our churches again be locked? The sacraments denied us? Will our shepherds abandon their flocks and acquiesce to the rupture of grace in our lives? The brazen, the bold and the loyal will do all they can to reach out, working tirelessly to meet the spiritual needs of their parishes, creatively, unapologetically, but largely, there is a silence, a timidity and passivity that strengthens in direct proportion to the panic and alarm regarding the virus itself.
When the pall descends upon us, when the panic threatens to overwhelm us, how are we to react and respond? When Christ was being taken from Gethsemane, Peter struck out, gripped by the fervent awareness that it was “Christ, the Son of the living God” that was being taken from them. When the world seeks to deny us the lifeblood of our sacraments, our churches, the holy sacrifice of the mass - how are we to respond and react? We must be vigilant, remembering to “Watch ye, and pray that ye enter not into temptation.” We must maintain our distance from the distractions and delirium of the modern age, to “continue in supplications and prayers night and day.” We must make the most of the opportunity for solitude, whilst “the city of vanity is broken down, every house is shut up, no man cometh in.” We “know not the days nor the hour,” but must persevere in prayer and supplication, lest the Lord, in time, turn and tell us: Amen I say to you, I know you not.
By Gaetano Carcarello