Note: I’ve thought long and hard about posting the words below. They are quite personal and not easy to share for someone whose very vocation is to provide care, guidance and support to others in their spiritual walk with God. I am not sharing to solicit pity or sound the alarm. In many ways, my life is more stable than most people’s right now. I am deeply grateful for having been spared much sorrow and pain in these pandemic-days — touch wood.
Writing is one of my vital medicines of choice to keep depression at bay, to process hard stuff, and a means to become medicine to others. I am sharing the inner desolation below simply in the hope that it might give someone else permission to do the same without beating themselves up, in the spirit of Ron Rolheiser’s recent column which I reference at the end.
In an interview with the CBC program Ideas last week, Dr. Anthony Fauci said: There is something so disturbing to me as a physician, as a scientist and as a public health person. I mean, if ever you could imagine the worst possible environment into which a global pandemic emerges, it would be in an environment of anti-science [and] complete normalization of lies. It is just mind-boggling. I mean, if I were some diabolical, evil spirit and I wanted to cast upon the world the worst time to get an outbreak, it’s when you have this kind of combination of divisiveness with the complete accessibility and spread of complete falsehood. There is nothing worse than that in the middle of a pandemic.
That’s quite a mouth full; it stopped me in my tracks and got me thinking about the perennial tug-o-war between flesh and spirit (Romans 8:5–9). I have been spending my entire life cultivating a longing to live by the Spirit of God. While incredibly rewarding and life-giving in providing meaning, depth and purpose, it never gets easier. My spirit is certainly willing, but the flesh remains weak. My own shortcomings are constantly lying in wait to ambush me and take over the steering wheel of my decisions and perceptions of the world. At the same time my yearning for God’s Spirit as life’s compass, however tainted with my own failings, never wanes. Surprisingly, it seems to be intensifying with age. Maybe it’s a logical part of preparing to meet my Maker. Maybe that is why so much of today’s realities near and far leave me profoundly shell-shocked, disoriented and mind-boggled, much like Dr. Fauci’s comment about the strange social and cultural dynamics at play in these pandemic times.
While important to stay informed, the daily news is downright bizarre and disorienting, worrisome and threatening, as Dr. Fauci articulates so poignantly. There is no shortage of global crises that acutely threaten all life forms on our beautiful yet fragile planet. Along with the accelerating climate crisis, the social fabric of our western civilization seems to be ripping apart through no fault of outside forces, but rather caused by ourselves, now lost and deluded on the way to some type of material paradise, disguised as the Wizard of Oz. The collective breakdown, which was already underway through a loss of social cohesion and life-giving spirituality, is now accelerating at lightning speed thanks to the pandemic.
While not immune from human tendencies to judge and criticize, when confronted with dynamics, developments and realities that elude my frame of reference, my worldview, something akin to Dr. Fauci’s reaction happens in my spirit: a profound sense of shock, bewilderment and offence. It seems to be happening more often these days. A few recent conversations resulted in an acute assault on my spirit, leaving me wounded by the roadside, with no mental framework at hand to manage the information. I was at a loss to respond with love and respect while refraining from judgment and from the urge to break bonds of affection. Is it simply Covid-jitters, an aging brain, an anti-spiritual/religious sentiment, a clash of personalities and communication styles, a normal reaction to unhealthy and unacceptable developments, or my bone-dry, Covid-caused emotional and mental tank making me less tolerant, resilient and adaptable? Or am I losing my mind, or worse, my faith?
Besides all these possible causes, I still dare hope that intentional daily practices in prayer, study and reflection, however arduous, help to mine spiritual learning from every experience, conversation and encounter, and can lead to a keen discernment of spirits. The current societal, peculiar antipathy towards traditional Christianity, however, would dismiss my spiritual bent as being merely self-serving and narrow-minded, judgmental or just plain obsolete. I fall for that argument myself every time I fear that my values and integrity, my Christian witness and ministry, have passed their best before date, and would likely be better preserved in a museum. It’s just that I no longer recognize the world I thought we were creating together (or maybe we never did and I lived in a bubble), increasing my longing to purchase a one-way ticket off the planet (not with Jeff Bezos’ Blue Orb though!). Yes, when the going gets rough I resort to flight rather than fight, lest I feel squished like a marshmallow between lion’s teeth (no exaggeration!).
I do know that I am not alone in this season of despair. In particular those whose very work centers around human interaction — teachers, healthcare workers and clergy, to name a few — are suffering deeply inside the professional prison Covid has created. And we all plot different escape routes and coping mechanisms, including some that are damaging to self and/or others, and some that break long-standing moral codes.
It appears now that we have gotten many things so very wrong as a society, and we cannot blame it all on social media. On a global scale, our consumer frenzy has not lead to greater health and equitable wealth distribution. Having tossed religion and spirituality into private corners and dusty attics is now leaving countless without a moral compass. For us church members, we need to reckon with the fact that our understanding of Scripture was so blatantly misguided that it justified the plundering of Indigenous cultures. How can we trust that our personal choices and actions of today are healthy and liberating in the long haul?
It is reported that the aforementioned professions are beginning to see a mass exodus of personnel — early retirements, career changes and sick time due to plain burnout are increasing exponentially. In a recent Zoom-meeting with clergy, our bishop shared that clergy leaving active ministry is becoming an alarming trend. I wonder if some day soon I could be among them, however heart-breaking that would be. I really don’t want to go out on this pandemic-note. One RC colleague commented recently: “Six more months of this and my parish is finished, and me along with it.” We have no emotional and spiritual buffers left to absorb challenges, tensions and shockers. Instinctively we move into protective survival mode, along with the rest of the world, with little to no stretching capacity lest our spirit snaps completely into a million pieces. Spending some 20 months swimming in strong currents of personal and collective grief and illness, loss and restrictions is taking its toll on mental health for everyone. Add to this the usual aches and pains of my own aging body, and giving up looks more appealing than soldiering on.
Fortunately some days bring soothing waters of gratitude for small blessings. But more often this extrovert feels depleted, spent, desperately scraping the bottom of the barrel for some tiny crumbs of hope and inspiration, fulfillment and joy. Even my sense of humour is turning pretty wry. Covid-living has killed a lot in my ministry spirit. Frankly, I envy the youthful energy, vibrant faith and visionary dynamism of Pope Francis. I envy my octogenarian colleague whose body seems in such better shape than mine. I envy those who have better words, more upbeat dispositions and better coping skills to stay the course.
But me, I’m exhausted, with doubt nibbling relentlessly at every aspect of the spiritual foundation I have leaned on for sustenance and guidance. As Ron Rolheiser wrote in a recent column, this preacher is asking for permission to be sad, albeit with a faintly whispered prayer that I may be found by the God of Jesus Christ, who is intimately acquainted with grief and loss, suffering and death.
For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. … But you are not in the flesh; you are in the Spirit, since the Spirit of God dwells in you. (Romans 8:5, 9)
Grace@Sixty 