From Fr. Peter

The sun comes up each day and then sets again to rise on another part of the world and make a new day there. And I’m not sure what day it is that has just passed. If you’re like me at all, you are starting to realize how much routine, schedule, and calendar mattered. There are moments in a conversation when a fog settles in and I can’t seem to grasp the word that is hovering just out of reach. This sheltering-in-place is important, but it is hard. To be sure, the Allostatic Load is taking its toll, and I know I’m not alone. 

Some of you have shared your stories with me; your anxieties and your exhaustion, as well as your bloopers. I’ve been grateful to walk along this road with many of you, as difficult as the road may be. 

I shared with you last week my love of JRR Tolkien and promised, or threatened, a second week of the Christian wisdom from the friends of Frodo Baggins, who helped him along his journey to accomplish the impossible. (By the way, I now know all of the other Tolkien admirers at CSMSG.) I offered you the words of the ancient and powerful wizard Gandalf last week, today I offer you the words of a gardener. 

In the book, the equivalent of this dialogue takes place just before the two enter a deadly territory, but in the films, Frodo, and his companion and gardener, Samwise have been taken prisoner. Frodo begins to lose hope as to whether or not he can accomplish the task that has been thrust upon his shoulders. As he begins to despair, his friend gives one of the most stouthearted admonishments in all of literature.   

You might identify with Sam as he acknowledges the difficulty they’ve endured and the danger to come,

....."It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great .....stories, Mr. Frodo.The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they .....were, and sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be .....happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened?

.....But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new .....day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the .....stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to .....understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those .....stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. Because they were holding .....on to something."

.....Frodo, staring out on an impending field of battle asks his gardener, “What are we .....holding on to, Sam?”

.....And Samwise’s reply? “That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth .....fighting for.”

When you face adversity, you can take courage. When you grapple with discouragement, you can find hope. When your legs are tired from marching and your knees are bruised from kneeling, you can experience rest and healing. There have been so many stories of resilience and hope in the midst of this crisis. That is something to be celebrated. 

Here we find ourselves in Eastertide, dutifully sheltering-in-place, which is a fight in and of itself. It is not easy, but we do so as people of hope. Not that we have a task to accomplish or a fight to make, but that Jesus accomplished that fight for us. Which is why we can say with confidence, “yet even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.”

Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia.

Peter+