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Find Your Light An Ignatian Digital Retreat for a Pandemic, part 4 of 4

In this final module, we seek the light. Though we may still be confined to our caves, there is good to be found and good to be done. We must have eyes to see clearly: ourselves, our gifts and weaknesses, the needs of those around us and the path God invites us down.

One Body, Many Parts

Now the body is not a single part, but many. If a foot should say, “Because I am not a hand I do not belong to the body,” it does not for this reason belong any less to the body. Or if an ear should say, “Because I am not an eye I do not belong to the body,” it does not for this reason belong any less to the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? But as it is, God placed the parts, each one of them, in the body as he intended.
If they were all one part, where would the body be? But as it is, there are many parts, yet one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, “I do not need you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I do not need you.” Indeed, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are all the more necessary, and those parts of the body that we consider less honorable we surround with greater honor, and our less presentable parts are treated with greater propriety, whereas our more presentable parts do not need this.
But God has so constructed the body as to give greater honor to a part that is without it, so that there may be no division in the body, but that the parts may have the same concern for one another. If [one] part suffers, all the parts suffer with it; if one part is honored, all the parts share its joy.

What role are you playing as part of the Body of Christ during this time of pandemic? How does your role support and build up the Body of Christ around the globe?

Lover of the Light

As you listen to this song by Mumford and Sons, imagine the lyrics are your conversation with God. What do you say? What does God say?

To get started, perhaps God says: "So love the one you hold. And I will be your goal to have and to hold. [Because you are] a lover of the light."

What does this song spur in you? How will you be a "lover of the light" for others?

Contemplative Activity

Reflect back on your day. How many times were you a light for someone else in this darkness? Consider lighting a real candle in your house for each time, or make one with construction paper or other art supplies. Once finished, step back and look at how much light you generated in just one day.

Perhaps there are no shadows left in your cave.

A Meditation for the Anxious During COVID-19

Become aware of your breath.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Bring your breathing under control. It’s hard. We’re in uncertain times, uncharted waters. Our breaths might be short, panicked. We may have forgotten to breathe all together.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Slowly, read Psalm 46:11: “Be still and know that I am God!” God is speaking to you. How do you respond?

Be still and know that I am God.

God of all people, my faith is tested during this time of pandemic. Your houses of prayer and worship stand empty: Can we gather together without contracting disease? Can the most vulnerable members of our human family — the elderly, the sick — come to pray without fear?

The answer to these questions, it seems, is no.

Be still and know that I am.

God, I know that you are here, even if I sit alone in my home. Just as you appeared to Moses in the burning bush, you appear to us now, in surprising, unsettling ways.

I may not find you where I expect you — my community, the Mass, the Eucharist — but give me eyes to find you in new places: livestreams, Facetime and quiet solitude.

Be still and know.

God of the sick, God of the vulnerable, give me clarity to see through the noise and clutter. Grant me serenity that I may have a level head with which to weigh the information I am given. Sustain me with fortitude that I may have the courage to learn all I need to know about this disease that plagues our world.

I do not want to give in to fear, panic, hysteria. But I do want to make good decisions, for myself, my community and my world. Help me to do so.

Be still.

I know that I have to change my daily life, my daily routine. I know that I can no longer come and go as I wish. In this Lenten season, remind me of the spiritual significance of fasting: setting things aside to make room for you, God, and for the common good. Give me a spirit of fasting as I confront this disease.

May I see these moments of stillness — moments that I am not out at bars, restaurants, events and activities — as opportunities to encounter you. And as my small yet important contribution to the common good of our world.

Be.

I feel as though there is so little I can do to bring about an end to this crisis. Grant me the wisdom to simply be, to sit, to rest, to watch and to trust that your hand is at work, guiding and protecting medical professionals, scientists, first responders and government officials, as well as my neighbors, particularly those who are most vulnerable.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Amen.