Hope

Today marks the feast day of St. Augustine, one of the early Church fathers and a prolific theologian who composed Confessions, often regarded as the first autobiography. In a quote often attributed to him (but in the spirit of academic honesty difficult to verify) he writes, “Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are.”

The past several months have been marked by anguish, struggle, and change. I have felt anger and courage during this time in a seemingly endless cycle, a paradox of sorts. Policies changing daily; protocols varying across institutions; and a dramatic increase in tentatively worded communications. In short, nothing about planning for schools to reopen has been easy yet everything about the end goal of the process has been worth it. In our culture, hope can often be relegated to fantasy or wishing. But in the theological sense it stands as an infused virtue, a grace bestowed upon human beings as a moral compass which leads us toward new life rather than an abyss of anger and confusion.

As we enter this new school year, we are ever mindful of the constant that is change and the need to embrace hope as the eternal guiding light in our lives. We pray for the safety and well-being of everyone in our community and beyond. The COVID-19 epidemic hasn’t just disrupted our lives; it was unwoven the very fabric of society. And there is no exaggeration in writing that. But as Catholics who believe in the true incarnation, we recognize that hope will always appear naive to the outsider. To those who know, hope is what has always guided our hearts to be still regardless of whatever raging tempest stirs in our world.

It’s a Great Day to be a Bulldog!

Blurred Clarity

This year was supposed to be different with the perennial illusion of new beginnings. Every year begins the same way, really. But this year is entirely different altogether. COVID-19 is now part of our historical lexicon in the same way we can’t ignore the sheer gravity behind the numbers 911. It is not a change anyone made a resolution for but one that descended upon us. Eerie, strange, surreal, and bizarre all speak to the shared global experience of seeing closed storefronts, empty lots, and an acute awareness of the oxymoron “social distancing.”

At the risk of coming across as naively confident, we will emerge from the struggle that comes with solitude and the unknown. It’s perhaps fitting that in this season of Lent we celebrate Laetare (meaning “rejoice”) Sunday this weekend being the 4th Sunday of Lent. And while I realize joy may not be at the forefront of our collective consciousness, we should know that it is coming. Personally, these past few days have brought me much joy among the angst: pictures and notes from families reinforce the beauty of the human spirit even at its worst moments.

As we adjust to a normalization of working and schooling from home, we should remain mindful about our what is essentially essential to our lives. Wants and desires already feel so antiquated. But there is joy in the mundane. The oft-quoted line from the epic Latin poem The Aeneid (Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit) roughly translates as “perhaps it will please us one day to remember these things.” In the story, Aeneas’ crew has just been shipwrecked and all hope was lost–at that time. We should all remember that there will be a time when that joy returns knowing it will be refreshingly sweet like the sun glistening on our face after a turbulent storm!

It’s a Great Day to be a Bulldog!