If you’ve ever traveled through an airport, then you know the drill of going through security.
When it’s your turn, you must empty your pockets, remove your jacket, belt, and shoes, and place your luggage on a conveyor belt before walking through the metal detector.
That “narrow gate” has no room for your luggage; we ourselves can barely fit!
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Isn’t that an appropriate image for life?
We cannot take anything with us when we pass through that “narrow gate” of death; all we can bring with us is the faith we’re nurturing here at Mass.
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How, then, is the Lord inviting me to grow in faith?
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“Strive to enter through the narrow gate,” Jesus says, “for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough.”
Only those whose faith rests – not in the things of this world – but in the Son of God.
After these past three months of self-quarantining and now civil unrest many of us have become afraid.
We fear contracting Covid-19. We fear further isolation. We fear losing our voice; being silenced. We fear strangers; unemployment; financial insecurity.
Some fear returning to the public. Understandably, some even fear returning to Mass.
2020 has struck a nerve.
It’s been the year of fear.
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So, how has 2020 changed me so far?
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Many have said to me, “Father, I’m angry and I don’t know why.” Or, “I’m afraid.”
Or, “I realize I’m much more judgmental than I thought.”
Not always positive insights. But 2020 has struck a nerve. It’s revealed different – deeper – sides of ourselves.
Maybe sides we didn’t even know were there.
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We’re like those Russian matryoshka dolls.
Matryoshka dolls are a set of hollow wooden dolls designed to nest inside of each other. They decrease in size until you reach the smallest one, which alone is solid.
You might say, it’s the doll’s center; its heart.
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In a similar way, we’re constantly learning about ourselves, removing different layers.
Often, we discover good things. We find strength, a talent, a character trait we didn’t know we had. Think of what’s come out of ordinary people recently.
There are doctors and nurses heroically fighting Covid on the front lines; teachers creatively moving their classrooms online; neighbors generously looking after neighbors; families enjoying one another’s presence, even while quarantined.
That’s one thing we can all say about Covid-19 and the isolation that’s resulted from it: we’ve learned more about ourselves. And often it’s something good.
But sometimes we strike a nerve. We find a fear.
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So, again, what am I afraid of?
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Naming it is the first step in removing it.
For example, why have I not had that conversation with my spouse or children that I know I should have?
It might be out of fear that, if I start an honest discussion, larger issues will surface.
Or, why have I not been more public about my faith?
Maybe I’m afraid of being uncomfortable or misunderstood.
Fear freezes us. It stops us in our tracks. It makes us indecisive, often preventing us from becoming healthier versions of ourselves.
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In the Gospel, Jesus says, “Fear no one.”
Not even ourselves.
It’s a strange truth, but sometimes the person we fear the most is the person staring back at us in the mirror. We fear confrontation; we fear failing; being vulnerable; being alone.
Has the time come to address these fears?
Think of doing so like removing another layer of that matryoshka doll. The deeper we go, the closer we get to the center; to the heart of an issue.
Even to the heart of ourselves.
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That’s where lasting peace – and true freedom – reside, deep within ourselves.
There we find the freedom of the the prophet Jeremiah, who preaches the truth openly, in spite of great personal cost.
It’s the freedom of fathers showing their children affection, telling them they love them, in their words and actions.
It’s the freedom of giving without expecting anything in return.
It’s the freedom of Jesus, embodying his Father’s love and mercy perfectly.
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Our inner self can hard to reach.
But it’s unshakable.
It’s solid, like that final little doll.
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We’re halfway through 2020, this strange year of fear.
We have six months left.
We can change the narrative from fear to hope; from hatred to love.
But we as a society, as families, and as individuals must address our fears – and have honest conversations about what frightens us – then begin working through them knowing the God of peace is with us.
Uncertain if our small, family owned business can sustain a partial reopening; uncertain if we’re going to contract the Coronavirus; uncertain if there will be a second wave; uncertain about the economy; uncertain about what school – or even work – will look like in the fall.
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Looking to the future can really unnerve us, which is why Jesus teaches us to pray, “Give us this day, our daily bread.”
If we’re constantly looking to tomorrow, then we’ll miss the beauty of today.
There never has been – and never will be – another June 18, 2020.
But we’ll miss all the blessings today has to offer if we spend our energy worrying about tomorrow.
