Tuesday, October 13, 2020

One of the most well known and compelling images from Julian of Norwich’s, Revelations of Divine Love, is of the created world as a hazelnut being cradled in the hand of God. Not only does this image encompass the smallness and fragility of the physical universe and the omnipotence of God in comparison, but more importantly it emphasizes the gentleness, intimacy, and concern with which God cares for it. As humans, and as Americans we have certainly been humbled by the events of this pandemic and reminded both of the foolishness of resting all of our trust in human institutions, but also of the fragility of human life.

While it is true that many of the things which we once took for granted will never be the same, it is also true that many will be. The work of the church continues, albeit under altered circumstances, and the needs of the world for grace, hope, and joy are greater than ever. As a monastic, I have learned to embrace the paradoxical nature of our faith and to look for truth in ambiguity. I recall vividly the last Friday in March before we were locked down. It also just happened to be the end of the third quarter of the academic year, and one of our administrators had just confidently assured us at a faculty meeting that there was no possible way that the schools would ever be shut down. At Stations of the Cross that evening Father Lillie, in contrast, soberly warned us to be prepared for that being our last observance of Stations, even though we were only halfway through Lent.

At the time, I was leaning more towards the optimism of my administrator, which events since then have obviously and almost hilariously debunked. A considerable amount of anxiety and concern about the finances of the parish was thus inevitable. Fearing that an extended shutdown would pose not just an inconvenience, but an existential threat to the parish, I steeled myself for the worst. In another one of the plot twists that God seems to be especially fond of, however, the pandemic has revealed not weakness and decay, but health and generosity. Support for the parish has remained strong as the technophobes have signed up to give online, and the commitment of those confined to their homes has not been diminished by distance. It is when we are most confident in our ridiculously limited intelligence and experience (and usually the most pessimistic) that God pulls a fast one on us and leaves us with egg on our face, looking more than a little silly. Such has been the case with this pandemic and our parish finances.

In her vision of the world as a hazelnut, Julian reminds us to look past the cares and concerns of the created world, and focus instead on the grace, hope, and joy with which God nurtures it. I invite you to continue to do so through your generous support of the parish. I am convinced that God has an ironic sense of humor, and that he will ultimately turn despair, hardness of heart, and hopelessness into grace, hope, and love—but not without us serving as his heart and hands to do so.

Michael Ida
Parish Treasurer
Oblate of the Order of Julian of Norwich