Keeping Lent During Coronavirus; National Day of Prayer

My article, “How to Stick with Lent During Coronavirus,” is up at Catholic Stand. When I began writing it Thursday, I at first focused on the “how to” part of this - how to adapt what you’re doing to stay in the actual practices of Lent. Virtual Mass, increased prayer, particularly for an end to the pandemic, and so on.

What ended up happening, though, is that I became extremely interested in the broader, metaphysical opportunities for solidarity within a global crisis like this. Specifically, the way it unites all mankind, not just in the current day-to-day suffering, but across time. So we are comfortably quarantined with WiFi and Klondike bars (if you were smart): what about the very first Christians in hiding in the days following Jesus’s death and Resurrection? One can imagine them all huddled together, awaiting the Romans (I recall the 2016 Joseph Fiennes movie Risen did a good job portraying this. There’s an entertainment idea for your days spent indoors). We can also remember Christian communities around the world practicing their faith in secret on a daily basis where the Church is underground. China is an obvious example. Or even think of those who are homebound for health reasons and never have access to the Eucharist, unless someone remembers and has the time to bring it to them. Remembering these people opens up opportunity for prayer, meditation and reflection.

That was something the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius taught me: sometimes it is good to meditate on suffering because it is as if you are being with a friend who is suffering. Specifically, Jesus.

Then something else happened this weekend: President Trump declared today a national day of prayer. About time.

I called this, let me tell you. A couple days ago he gave an address at 9 pm - I think it was Thursday night - and I jokingly texted a couple friends , “Do you think he’s going to announce a period of fasting and prayer"?” I had in mind the White House’s Ash Wednesday message proclaiming the tradition of Ash Wednesday as a reminder to “repent and accept the Gospel more fully.” In case it wasn’t clear, President Trump has a few Catholics working for him.

Anyway, obviously, I believe prayer is very much a part of the solution to what is happening in our world. Always, not just now. And calling on God as a nation has been a fundamental part of our culture and tradition since day one.

Just two weeks ago - as all of this was beginning to break - I was at the Capitol and got to see the Chapel, part of the US House of Representatives Office of the Chaplain, where members of Congress can pray. There is a stained glass window with an image of George Washington kneeling and praying (I would have preferred Our Lady of Guadalupe, Patroness of the Americas, but that’s fine).

I picked up a brochure on the way out, which explains the role of the chaplain, the office’s history, and a few key quotes. Here’s one:

“I have lived, sir, a long time, and the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this Truth: that God governs in the Affairs of Men…” Benjamin Franklin, June 28, 1787, from a speech to the Constitutional Convention

And also this prayer from Episcopalian Rev. Jacob Duche, the first prayer of the Continental Congress in 1774:

“Be though present, O God of Wisdom, and direct the councils of this honorable assembly; enable them to settle things on the best and surest foundation. That…truth and justice, religion and piety, prevail and flourish amongst the people. Preserve the health of their bodies and vigor of their minds; shower down on them and the millions they here represent, such temporal blessings as Thou seest expedient for them in this world and crown them with everlasting glory in the world to come.”

That seems just as appropriate a prayer for today’s leaders in government as it was in 1774.

So, as for me on this National Day of Prayer, I made pancakes for breakfast because Sunday is a feast, and plan to do what I can to support a local business by ordering a takeout burger and milkshake from one of my neighborhood restaurants for dinner (again, Sunday is a feast). I did go to Mass in Arlington last night, as our Diocese is still open, so I may put off watching a virtual Mass until I have no choice (which I suspect will be as soon as this week). Going for a walk with a friend and her little girl (though I don’t think we will share our usual hugs due to #socialdistancing). Writing a few snail-mail letters (and sealing them with a wet washcloth!). These are all strange little adaptations, which amount to nearly no inconvenience. And I will think about this if and when things get worse and I do feel a tendency to grumble, and remember that no matter what, God is with us.