July 2021

Emerging from the Underground:  Unmask, Sing, and Fly!
By Pat Serotkin, OFS
 
Here comes the sun!  What a welcome sight.  After spending nearly sixteen months in the “underground” due to the pandemic, many of us are now being liberated from most of the restrictions that bound us for these long, dark months of isolation. Our governors are lifting mandated restrictions, more of us are being vaccinated, and our lives are returning to “normal.”
In many of our dioceses, our bishops are lifting most of the restrictions on liturgical celebrations.  Suddenly, masks are not required, the pews are opening up, hymnals are back in place, choirs are singing, processionals are resuming, and collection baskets are being passed.  It’s liberating!  
 
Although it may take some time for many of us and for our parishes to make final adjustments to get us back to where we were pre-COVID, and although concerns remain about the variant strains that may pose risks even for those of us who have been vaccinated, especially those with other health conditions, I am confident that we will eventually get there.  As for now, we must rejoice!  That which was lost to us has been recovered, we have weathered the storms of the pandemic, and now we must celebrate, as the father of the prodigal son did upon seeing his return.  We must not become complacent or “hum-drum” about returning to our lives.  
 
Serendipitously, our return to “normal” life this summer coincides with the return of the seventeen-year locust, or cicada.  This amazing creature hibernates 17 long years in the dark earth, growing and patiently waiting for its time to emerge, shed its skin, spread its wings, sing its song, and fly away to reproduce.  For a few short weeks the cicada flies madly around, singing loudly and raucously, mates and produces eggs.  And then, having fulfilled its mission, the cicada just dies.  Their larvae burrow into the ground to begin their own 17-year cycle.   And so goes the short but productive life of the cicada, whose entire purpose is to ensure the survival of its species.  But how joyous was that short life in the light! 
In many ways, I feel much like the cicada, having emerged from my own dark months “underground. “ Of course, it hasn’t been 17 years for us in that dark place as it has for the cicada, but sometimes it feels like it has!  Like the cicada, our time on earth, however long we live, is only a short time compared to eternity.   How many of us will spend our short lives doing something to ensure our survival, like the cicada?  Will we do something – large or small – that contributes to the well-being of our society?   What difference will our lives make in this world?   What does our Franciscan profession call us to do?
 
A Franciscan becomes aware that many of the things we do are small, sometimes insignificant.  There is always the temptation to want to do big things, make an enormous difference among people, and design and build things that bring us fame.  The temptation is understandable.  For a Franciscan to give in to the temptation is where the “rubber hits the road.”  Profession invites us to give whether we get a lot of credit or not.  Our love is offered freely and delights to see people find new life in what we offer.
[The Franciscan Journey, p. 253 (Bach, 2010)]
 
Behind my house I have a little “kitchen garden” where I have planted flowers, herbs, and a couple of tomato plants.  It’s a kind of wild mish-mash of growth, not in neat rows, but I like it that way.  Every summer I set my Adirondack chair among the plants, right between my statues of Our Lady and St. Francis.  When I have a few moments in my otherwise busy day, I like to go outside and just sit for a brief while, enjoying the feel of the sun and gentle breeze on my face, the sounds of bees buzzing and birds singing,  the smells of grass and flowers blooming – the peace of God’s creation is so liberating! 
 
As we move into the bright summer months, I invite you to liberate yourself from the dark underground, rejoice at your newfound freedom, and get out into nature’s beauty.  Don’t settle for “hum-drum” as we emerge from this pandemic.   Instead, be like the 17-year cicada:  Unmask, sing, and fly – go out and make your short life count.  MAKE A DIFFERENCE!



. . . No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that refuge clinging
Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing?

[Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Camilla Kerslake / Michael Damien Hedges /
Robert Lowry / Sally Herbert
How Can I Keep from Singing lyrics © BMG Rights Management]



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