Confounded

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confound, coronavirus, mask, masks, social distancing, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

I looked up the word confounded just now. I had started thinking about the fact that we are once again in a new month and still the Coronavirus hangs on. Last night we got word that a friend died of a massive heart attack. She was someone who had seen the value of what we do at the Spiritual Center and dived into our mission with a generosity and an energy that was virtually unparalleled. We have missed seeing her this season because of the Coronavirus. She was 63 years old.

I had a phone conversation yesterday with someone who knows me better than almost anyone. Her birthday is today and I would dearly love to party with her but my smiles would have to be behind a mask and any birthday hug virtual. A bit of a disappointment. Much of our conversation yesterday was about our disappointment with people, even some of former colleagues and long-time co-workers, who who do not deem it necessary to wear a mask and observe what we have come to know as “social distancing.” We are both at a loss to understand behavior that is dangerous to our health.

To confound means to puzzle, to confuse right and wrong, to make something worse, to perplex. That is the state we are in. To wear a mask is inconvenient, even uncomfortable at times. The difference between that and risking an infection that could cause serious illness or even death – for ourselves or a loved one or both – is just confounding. I fear I will never understand it.

Disturbing News

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appearances, coronavirus, innocent, John, masks, neighbor, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

This morning’s news was, of course, full of reports about the pandemic. Especially shocking this morning was the headline that there are more cases of infected people in New York State than in any country in the world. A more concerning story that I read, however, spoke of the growing suspicion of white Americans toward our black and brown brothers. (There was no mention of women in the articles I read.) The issue is the wearing of masks. We have been instructed by the government (CDC) to wear gloves and masks – any face-covering will have to do in places where there is no availability of surgical or industrial masks.

It seems that innocent people are being followed by police or employees in grocery stores or even asked to leave because they are wearing masks and are thereby suspect. A 53-year-old marketing consultant in Nashville recounted his need to carefully consider his visit to a Kroger grocery store, his first outing since the inception of the CDC guidelines advising Americans to cover their faces to slow the spread of the virus. He said, “Appearances matter so I have pink, lime green and Carolina blue face coverings so I don’t look menacing.” His is only one of many such stories in the news today.

As I read chapter 18 of John’s gospel, the section for today’s liturgy that tells of Jesus before the high priest, I thought of those stories from today. Answering the questions of Caiaphas about his disciples and his doctrine, Jesus said, “I have spoken publicly to the world. I have always taught in a synagogue and in secret I have said nothing…”

I have no words to say what this feels like to me, a white woman in a safe environment with enough to eat and many people concerned for my well-being. I can only redouble my efforts at acceptance and love for all people, praying that the fear that spawns such distrust will dissipate more quickly than the virus so that we all may experience the reality of “innocent until proven guilty” and trust will be the mark of our relationships toward all those who should be accorded the title of “neighbor.”

Finding Ourselves

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God, identity, inner room, Kathleen Deignan, masks, Matthew, New Seeds of Contemplation, point vierge, praayer, salvation, secret, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton

It happened again this morning! I read the gospel passage that instructs us on how to go about praying so as not to be swayed by the desire for approval. (MT 6:1-6, 16-18) It tells us to go to your inner room, close the door and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you. That reminded me of Thomas Merton’s reference to what he calls the point vierge, that space in us that no one (even we ourselves) can access – only God can. I knew the quote originally found in Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander appeared also in Kathleen Deignan’s book Thomas Merton: A Book of Hours, so I pulled the book as I did yesterday with Macrina Wiederkehr. Again I found what I didn’t know I was to read. This time the book jacket flap gave it to me. It wasn’t what I was looking for but it certainly was what answered my need for coherence of thought. Merton was talking about vocation, our identity in God, and among other things, he says this:

…we are even called to share with God the work of creating the truth of our identity. We can evade this responsibility by playing with masks, and this pleases us because it can appear at times to be a free and creative way of living. It is quite easy, it seems, to please everyone. But in the long run the cost and the sorrow come very high. To work out our own identity in God, which the Bible calls “working out our salvation,” is a labor that requires sacrifice and anguish, risk and many tears. It demands close attention to reality at every moment, and great fidelity to God as He reveals Himself, obscurely, in the mystery of each new situation.

We do not know clearly beforehand what the result of this work will be. The secret of my full identity is hidden in God. God alone can make me who I am, or rather who I will be when at last I fully begin to be. But unless I desire this identity and work to find it with God and in God, the work will never be done. The way of doing it is a secret I can learn from no one else but God. There is no way of attaining to the secret without faith. But contemplation is the greater and more precious gift, for it enables me to see and understand the work that God wants done. (New Seeds of Contemplation, p. 32-33, excerpted)