Necessary sacrifices come at a sacred time
It was a little more than a month ago that Ash Wednesday ushered in the season of Lent, the traditional period of reflection and penitence.
For many that tradition includes giving up something, a small sacrifice to remind us of our human frailties and failings.
Some refer to it as donning sack cloth and ashes, a reminder from whence we came — and to which we will undoubtedly return.
But none us likely realized what we would give up over the next 40 days. Everything.
The novel coronavirus — and the COVID-19 illness that accompanies it — originated in the city of Wuhan, China, in December. It has sickened hundreds of thousands as it spread across the globe. The first case of COVID-19 was diagnosed in the United States on Jan. 21.
Since then 4,000 Americans have died. The number of infections has soared over 200,000. Last week, after weeks of downplaying the threat and offering predictions of a return to normalcy and “packed pews” for a joyous Easter celebration, the White House instead offered a grim new dose of reality.
Even in the best-case scenario, if we continue to stay at home and practice social distancing when we do venture outside, it is likely the death toll in the U.S. will be anywhere from 100,000 to 200,000.
It’s more than ironic that our lives would be turned upside down at the very same time when we traditionally reflect on our lives.
Our schools and businesses are closed by order of Gov. Tom Wolf. What first appeared to be a twoweek shutdown now has been extended through the end of April. Schools in Pennsylvania will remain closed “indefinitely.”
The entire state is now following what has been the norm for weeks in the Philadelphia suburbs: Stay at home.
The economy is at a standstill, with most business – anything considered “non-life-sustaining” — shut down. That includes most bars and restaurants. Thousands are out of work. Bills are not being paid. Rent and mortgage payments are coming due. Wall Street continues to rise and fall in erratic fashion, taking many on an unwanted thrill ride, with their life savings on the line.
For many, it has united families, back under one roof. Kids have returned home from college. Dinner tables are now crowded again.
For others, the isolation has been stark. We remain clustered indoors, while loved ones remain out of reach in hospitals and nursing homes.
There is a sense of being overwhelmed, and that is without even contemplating the devastating loss.
Across the globe more than a million people have been infected. The death toll is more than 43,000. In the United States, the numbers continue to balloon. More than 188,000 have been sickened, and our death toll now is greater than anywhere else in the world, with more than 4,000 having succumbed to the coronavirus.
Today is Palm Sunday, the traditional start of Holy Week on the Christian calendar, leading up to the triduum of the passion of Christ, ending in the glory of him rising again on Easter Sunday. Wednesday night marks the start of the Jewish festival of Passover, which celebrates the exodus of the Jews from slavery in Egypt.
But make no mistake, this will be a Holy Week like no other we have encountered, as the faithful endure their own passion. As they have for weeks, most churches will continue to forego any formal services, cognizant of the ban on any large public gatherings. Jewish families will have to celebrate their Passover Seders without following the tradition of inviting guests. Synagogues will be closed.
New Philadelphia Archbishop Nelson Perez, who arrived in the region just in time to be greeted by perhaps the most dire medical emergency in our history, quickly announced the suspension of all public Masses. That will hold true this week, the holiest week on the Christian calendar. There will be no public Holy Thursday Mass. No Good Friday service. No Easter sunrise services.
But the faithful will persevere, and Easter will arrive one week from today.
The symbolism is unmistakable.
The sacrifice of the last 40 days has been enormous. No one could have foreseen just how much we were forced to give up. But we persevered.
And, as individuals, as families, as towns, villages and cities, and as a nation, we will rise again.