In years past, this was the day of green beer and silliness.
Bars and restaurants in Ireland, and in Irish Catholic neighborhoods in
America, especially, used to be crammed with revelers; but an eerie silence has
overtaken the revelry. Typically (think: Mardi Gras, Cinco de Mayo), the
celebration was not limited to Irish Catholics (not everyone at Mardi Gras
observes Lent; more than Mexicans celebrate Cinco de Mayo). Whereas festival
used to be the order of this day, the Pubs in Ireland are dark and silent. The
bars and restaurants in America, too.
Legend says that St. Patrick drove all the snakes out of
Ireland—though the facts are more rather sober: the ice of those climes would
have prevented their being snakes in
Ireland. No matter.
Just saying, these are odd times: today, no parties or green beer, and for COVID-19’s sake, practice social distancing: do not get near enough to anyone pinch them, even if they are not wearing green.
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I am awaiting an email from Bishop Leeland even as I write,
but it will not surprise me if he suspends public worship for several more
weeks. I hate that more than I can say, though I realize it is the right thing
to do. But it has brought to my heart, poignantly, this word from Dietrich
Bonhoeffer:
It
is easily forgotten that the community of Christians is a gift of grace from
the Kingdom of God, a gift that can be taken from us at any day—that the time
separating us from the most powerful loneliness may be brief indeed. Therefore, let
those who now have had the privilege living a Christian life together with
other Christians praise God’s grace from the bottom of their hearts. Let them
thank God on their knees and realize: it is grace, nothing but grace, that we are
still permitted to live in the community of Christians today.
--Life Together, p. 30
Or, as Joni Mitchell put it, “Don’t it always seem to go,
that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone?”
I suspect that what grieves us so right now is that we do
know how precious it is to be and worship and “live” together with our brothers
and sisters at HLUMC. One of my hopes for this hiatus: that each of us will
realize we miss even those people who, we can get together, get on our nerves;
now, with all this social distancing, we will discover that we find we love them, too, will
rejoice to see even them when we can. And hopefully. Soon, and very soon. But
it will not be yet.
When we do get together—our first Sunday back—I am committed
to a lawn party, a cook out, cakes, etc. Maybe even some green beer.
Okay, maybe not that on the church lawn. But later, at a reopened pub!
