Quarantine Week 1 Thursday: Solemnity of St. Joseph

I’ve been going on a lot of walks and photographing the flowers I meet. These are some pansies.

Today is the Solemnity of St. Joseph. I have a small statue of him I inherited from a deceased member of the Legion of Mary I never met. She died about a week before I joined and had left these things behind for the praesidium members. Seeing it is a very real reminder of the bonds between Legionaries that last beyond death, and everyone’s connectedness in the body of Christ.

The St. Joseph statue has had a prominent place near my at-home desk (aka kitchen table) and I keep a tea light lit in front of him, when I am working or anxious (you would correctly deduce that means he has been getting a lot of candle time recently). I have developed a strong devotion to St. Joseph for a few reasons, including that he is simply steadfast. I imagine the absolute confusion he felt on just about every occasion during the major events we know of his life with Mary and Jesus. But, he persisted in faith and courage, and I need that example, often.

So today I finished, along with the Pray More Novenas community, the novena to St. Joseph. I already have a St. Joseph prayer I pray every day and this evening was trying to describe it to a friend on the phone. “It says something along the lines of, give baby Jesus a squeeze for me and let him know I would like him to be near me when I die,” I said, pacing the apartment parking lot, walking up and down the same set of stairs, trying to get steps in. Here’s the actual thing:

O Saint Joseph, I never weary of contemplating you and Jesus asleep in your arms; I dare not approach while He reposes near your heart. Press Him in my name and kiss his fine head for me and ask him to return the Kiss when I draw my dying breath. Saint Joseph, Patron of departed souls – pray for me.

I like this story about the staircase he built for some nuns in New Mexico. You may also enjoy the Litany of St. Joseph to learn all about his different titles. My personal favorite: St. Joseph, Terror of Demons.

Another thing I learned today: there is a St. Corona, she is from the part of Italy most impacted by coronavirus right now, and she has been invoked in times of pandemic. Wow. Look around hard enough and you will probably find a novena to her - or, you can create your own (I like writing my own prayers sometimes - did you know you could do that?).

I had another small thought, people. It has only been a week since I wrote the article for Catholic Stand about keeping Lent during the pandemic, and even less than a week since it was published. Almost immediately, as the true gravity of the situation became more shockingly clear, I felt it was inadequate. Specifically, that it did not do enough to address what people who have been laid off are experiencing, and how to have hope despite that. That was because I had no idea what was coming.

I don’t have any particular advice on how to maintain that hope: in a matter of days, thousands of people have lost their jobs and are living in limbo, with constant worry about what comes next, how to feed their children, when they will see another paycheck - on top of worry about getting sick.

So, it is good to pray for the victims of the illness, those who are dying, those who are caring for the ill, and all those still working, particularly in public services, to keep our world from coming to a complete halt. I think, though, right now, my heart is closer to those who find themselves without work. As Catholics, we know there is dignity in work. St. Joseph himself is known as The Worker. So in a special way, St. Joseph is the perfect, powerful intercessor for these times.

Anyway: I’ll leave the last word to Matthew McConaughey.

Quarantine Continues

Working from home without distractions (and no social life nor other obligations) makes it exceedingly easy to find time to write. It is also coming easily when there is much to process, and I feel a real need to stay connected to people - to you. To share what is good and helpful that I am seeing, and to share my questions and learn about yours.

Today I have a few things to share. One is that I learned you can send your guardian angel to Mass for you. Insert crying eyes emojis and heart eye emojis.

Sorry this is huge. I still can’t figure out how to make images smaller.

I am also enjoying the results of how some people are spending the quarantine.

If you have not already, sign up for Pray More Novenas’s coronavirus novena, which starts Friday.

The coronababies are coming. Hooray!

Also, it is the feast of St. Patrick. Here is a prayer I wrote on the occasion: St. Patrick, come drive the coronavirus from our world, just as you drove the snakes out of Ireland!!

How is your virtual Mass-watching going? I watched Fr. Charles’s 9:30 Mass livestreamed from the Catholic Information Center this morning. Over 200 people were on the livestream. It was an incredibly gratifying experience and I genuinely felt connected to Fr. Charles, who is clearly taking his role as shepherd seriously right now. Thanks, Fr. Charles!

Lastly, here is something I should have shared one million years ago when I started watching it (idk, that was probably around August last year). It is an incredibly unique adoration chapel in Niepokalanów, Poland. Its full name: The Star of the Immaculate, World Centre of Prayer for Peace in Niepokalanów. I think the center was founded by St. Maximilien Kolbe.

Jesus, carried in Mary’s heart. The lights change throughout the day. Pray-ers come and go. Keep it open in your tabs and check in with Mary every once in a while.

Tonight is another appropriately socially distanced walk, and seeing if I can get into a local church to pray. I am fortunate to have friends living within walking distance, and a whole pack of miniature Nutty Buddy ice creams.

The "Pandemic" Poem

A roundup of a few interesting and introspective takes on the current global crisis:

Let’s start with this image of Pope Francis in deserted Rome, making a pilgrimage on behalf of the people.

Kathryn Lopez writes in National Review, “Will coronavirus change us?” I think it is what everyone is asking. After this, our lives may not be what we think they are. She questions how people already living paycheck to paycheck will carry on, and also notices how families are delighting in newfound time spent together. A silver lining, if indeed there could be one. She also asks whether having no access to the Mass and church will remind Christians what our heart longs for, what we are missing. Maybe this will result in wonder and gratitude once we do have access again.

Over at Foreign Policy, Lyman Stone writes that “Christianity has been handling epidemics for 2,000 years.” His opening line in particular echoes something I have been thinking: “The modern world has suddenly become reacquainted with the oldest traveling companion of human history: existential dread and the fear of unavoidable, inscrutable death.” In general, as far as pandemics go, those of us in the west are living hugely comfortable, connected, unstressed lives. It is still mostly true that whatever I want, I can get; my apartment is warm, the water is running, I have truly limitless entertainment options. Our lives, in general, are like that, and so the longer, healthier life spans that modern medicine has, praise God, afforded us, means we are less likely to be acquainted with discomfort, let alone our own impending death. His article is a beautiful summary of not only how Christians care for the sick, but how times of plague have led to Christian flourishing.

Lastly, a friend shared the below poem with me last night, which I have since learned is called “Pandemic” and was written by Lynn Ungar just a few days ago. It is many of the thoughts that I have had, or should strive to have, right now, about how to seize this moment to slow down; to cherish the time as something special of its own and see in it an opportunity to pray and live (rather than cry and stop).

Pandemic

What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.

And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)

Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)

Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.

Promise this world your love—
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.