Pause and Breathe: A Good Friday Message
I was invited to record a Good Friday video for The American Cathedral in Paris, but its message is one I hope will resonate with people of all faiths and in all places as we face a global pandemic both together and alone.
Greetings from Cleveland, Ohio where we are in week three of our state-mandated stay-at-home order. In spite of the daffodils appearing and the trees starting to bloom, the air feels bittersweet. It’s been a long Lent, and it promises to be an even longer Good Friday. One friend told me that he feels a profound sense of grief for the reality in which we now find ourselves and the new world order that will come of it. While I am more hopeful about the future, as we try to flatten the curve and wait for the “surge” to hit Ohio in the beginning of May, when I awake with fear and trembling, in the dark of night, I feel like I’m waiting with Jesus in the Garden. I guess you might say that it’s still Maundy Thursday in my world.
I’ve struggled mightily over the past few weeks about what words to offer to you – friends and strangers – fellow sojourners – on the other side of the Atlantic, an ocean that used to feel like a pond and now seems like a very wide body of water. The world has become both large and small, at the same time, and the phrase “think globally and act locally” has taken on new significance. We intentionally shop at the farmers’ market to support our local food supply; we order carry-out to support our local restaurants; we pre-purchase massages and haircuts to support local service providers, and we’ve made financial contributions to support local emergency relief organizations. At the same time, we’re trying to stay connected to friends and family scattered around the globe; and while watching and reading the news, we find ourselves praying for the welfare of the world.
Yes, something huge is happening to all of us. When it’s over, or maybe I should say, when we experience some respite and relief, who knows how many lives will be lost, and if we will be among the dead? Who knows how many jobs will have disappeared in this pandemic, how many retirement savings will be diminished by this economic crisis, and how many individuals will see their hopes, dreams, and hard work washed away by this storm? It will be a lot. It will be a long Good Friday.
But . . . here’s what I believe. While this is a global event like most of us have never experienced before, it’s not the only global disaster in the history of humankind. And yet, this is a crisis. It’s a crisis about breath – that’s what people with COVID-19 struggle and some die from – the inability to breathe. In Hebrew, there are two words for breath: ne-shema and ruach, which is often used to describe God’s breath or spirit. While I don’t believe that God has caused this pandemic, I do think that perhaps the earth is trying to teach us something about breath. As St. Hildegard in her wisdom once said, “All of creation God gives to humankind to use. If this privilege is misused, God’s justice permits creation to punish humanity.”
Perhaps, as painful as this global crisis is for many of us, and as sacrificial as this pandemic will be for some of us, COVID 19 is imposing a necessary pause so that humanity, along with the rest of creation, can catch our collective breath as we reconnect to God’s breath. Whether intentional or not, COVID-19 is reducing fossil fuel emissions, and thus, decreasing atmospheric pollution. Will it last? That’s up to us as we emerge on the other side of this Calvary.
The Gospels of Mark, Matthew and Luke recall that at the crucifixion, “Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last.” Today, Christ is crying aloud as our brothers and sisters with COVID-19 take their last breaths. And what might the beloved child of God be saying to us? People of earth, humankind, you need to slow down, you need to pause, your old way of life is dying so that you may be born into a new life. The good of this Friday in April 2020 will be the new life that you, and I, and others around the globe decide to live.
And as we wait and watch on this Good Friday,