The last few weeks, I, and I suspect most people with access to it, have been spending considerably more time on social media, trying in some way to stay connected to the outside world.
I notice on Facebook, in particular, there are many memes making light of the situation we all find ourselves in.
Here is one I came across that I shared a few days ago:
“3 hours into homeschooling and one is suspended for skipping class and the other has already been expelled.”
And, a similar one:
“If they shut schools for too long, mothers are going to find a solution for the virus before all scientists.”
These memes usually generate a few responses from people committed to finding humor in this newfound “social distancing” of which we have all become a part.
Another that I find simultaneously painful and funny is the following:
“Honestly hadn’t planned on giving this much up for Lent.”
Again, it generated a few responses from others who could relate and who know how to make some light of the current global situation surrounding the coronavirus.
But, if I am honest, it hits a bit close to home.
I mean, I’m one for whom “social distancing” isn’t as huge of a change as it is for others.
I spend a lot of time at home, reading, writing, meditating, snuggling with my dog.
I am comfortable at home.
As are many others I know.
But, still, being forced to stay home and reduce outside contact to a minimum is difficult, as we are, all of us, whether we like it or not, social beings, made for relationship with one another.
I spoke with my 18-year-old nephew on the phone the other day, on the first day classes had transitioned to e-learning at Streator High School, and asked him how he was holding up.
“Not good. Not good at all,” he replied, the genuine frustration evident in his voice.
My nephew has always been an easygoing, happy-go-lucky kid. He’s never met a stranger and can strike up a conversation with anyone. He is always ready and willing to help someone in need.
He’s a good kid.
And he is going stir crazy not being able to get out of the house and do some real person-to-person connecting.
For me, the hardest part of all of this is not having a place to go worship God in community. When you attend Mass every week — for most of us, usually at the same time every week — you join with many of the same people, as we are formed more deeply into the Mystical Body of Christ. You might not realize it while it is going on, but when something like these times presents itself, you realize just how spiritually connected you have become with the regular people at Mass.
Over and above this, however, not being able to weekly receive the Body and Blood of Christ in the Holy Eucharist for spiritual sustenance and strength is especially distressing.
Fortunately, the world wide web as we know it — although it has many negative aspects — is also full of advantages, as we now live in a time where Mass can be streamed Live on Facebook, and we are able to join in union with all those participating in it, from our own little corners of the world.
In just the past week, I participated in Sunday Mass, through Father Jacob Rose (familiar to those in Streator, Ottawa and Peru) streaming it live on Facebook. Father Rose is now assigned to Galesburg, but through the wonders of modern technology, is able to offer Mass to his followers and followers of the parish’s Facebook page. And if you are not able to watch it live, it is usually available to watch later as well.
Another former Streator priest, Father Dustin Schultz, who is now pastor at St. Patrick’s of Merna in Bloomington, has done the same thing for Sunday and daily Mass.
All of these opportunities are, in a very strange way, godsends.
For those of us who try to enter into the holy season of Lent with a penitential spirit — a desire to distance ourselves from worldly things, and draw closer to God this season has been particularly conducive to that.
But even with that worldly distance, without a place to go worship, I was feeling spiritually desolate.
However, I am most grateful for technology linking those of us in the Mystical Body of Christ through the livestreaming of daily and Sunday Mass.
No, it is not the same as being in those beautiful churches, whose walls and pews and ceilings and everything else have absorbed thousands of people’s prayers of praise and petition over the space of decades, spanning 100 years or more.
And yet, as I sit at my computer, and go through the motions of a typical Mass, I feel more grounded, comforted, reassured.
And during the time of Holy Communion, I say a prayer for Spiritual Communion with Christ, as though I had physically received his Body and Blood during that Mass.
For those who might be perplexed at some of the motions Catholics go through, let me assure you now, there is a reason for it, and it is most evident during times like these. It returns us to our basic ways of worshiping the Great Mystery, which many of us have done since we were little children.
Each time we participate in Mass, we are drawn deeper and deeper into Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit.
In many ways, in these times of intense anxiety, it is the one thing that is holding me together.
SPIRIT MATTERS is a weekly column that examines spirituality in The Times' readership area. Contact Jerrilyn Zavada at jzblue33@yahoo.com to share how you engage your spirit in your life and in your community.
2020-03-21 15:03:11Z
https://www.mywebtimes.com/2020/03/20/spirit-matters-mystical-union-in-the-age-of-technology/avitfcp/
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