The Church of St. Paul and Incarnation, Jersey City NJ
February 28, 2021
Year B: The Second Sunday in Lent
Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16
Psalm 22:22-30
Romans 4:13-25
Mark 8:31-38
Cura Personalis
Last week there was a story in the paper about the so-called “boredom economy.”
It’s the idea that one of the effects of the pandemic – one of the results of being forced to spend so much time at home – has been a profound sense of boredom.
Of course, lots of people don’t have the luxury of being bored, but those who do, and who also have some extra money burning a hole in their pockets, have tried to cope with their boredom by ordering lots of things from Amazon and other online retailers.
People have been buying all sorts of stuff, including items for new hobbies like bread making (remember the run on yeast early in the pandemic?) and also gardening (apparently there’s been an uptick in the sale of seeds).
Now, I don’t really need a newspaper to tell me this. All I have to do is look at Duncan Avenue every afternoon, clogged with delivery trucks, with delivery people dropping off mountains of parcels at our doors and in our lobbies.
And I bet you see the same scene on your street, too.
After I finished the article, I didn’t give the boredom economy another thought until I read yesterday’s paper where there was a letter to the editor from someone – a law professor, actually - who read that article and simply wasn’t having it – just not buying that buying lots more stuff is a healthy way to deal with the pandemic.
Here’s part of what she wrote:
“This past year I have been terrified, devastated, exhausted, depressed and yet also enormously grateful for what I have: food, shelter, safety, love.”
Amen, right?
It’s a great response – and a timely reminder of the importance of gratitude, especially in times of trouble, especially when we’re frightened or suffering, or, yes, even when we’re bored.
For the past week and a half I’ve had special reason to give thanks for my parents, who I’m fortunate enough to still have in my life, though the truth is that, because they have always been here, I take them for granted all the time.
My parents have always supported whatever it was I wanted to do, even if they may have had doubts or misgivings about the wisdom of my choices.
And, they also made many sacrifices for both my sister and me, including spending quite a bit of money so that we could go to Catholic grammar school and high schools.
For me, that was St. Peter’s Prep, the Jesuit high school here in Jersey City.
I don’t think I was conscious of it at the time – I was too focused on trying to pass math – but Prep’s approach to education wasn’t just dumping information into our heads. It wasn’t so much about giving us what we needed to get into college or to get us ready to make a lot of money. No, the philosophy of the school is and was the Jesuit idea of Cura Personalis – a Latin term that means “care for the whole person” – care for the body, mind, and spirit.
During my four years at Prep, I was never just a number, never anonymous, never just a young man in a blazer and a tie, interchangeable with all of the other guys obeying the same dress code.
No, most of my teachers and counselors cared for me as an individual, as “Tom,” and not just as a “student,” not just as a “grade point average,” not just as a “tuition check.”
To receive that kind of care from people who are not family is a life-changing experience, and one that I’ve reflected on many times over the years – and it’s the kind of care that I’ve tried my best to pass on as a teacher and a priest.
Cura Personalis – care for the whole person – has such a profound impact on us because this is what we are made for.
It’s true that on a biological level, a genetic level, we are all basically the same. But that’s definitely not how God sees us – and that’s not the way we are meant to see one another.
God loves us not as “humanity,” but as Tom and Sue and Gail and Yukiko.
God loves us not as “humanity,” but as Abram and Sarai, calling them by name – even giving them new names - their true names – calling them by name to step out in faith, to trust that God will keep God’s promises no matter how unlikely, no matter how outlandish, they may seem.
God loves us not as “humanity,” but as unique and precious individuals, promising to be with each of us no matter where we go, even when our journeys take us to some deeply shadowed places, even when we’re frightened, or bored, and feeling not very grateful at all.
God loves us not as “humanity,” but as unique individuals.
As Jesus tells us, God has counted every hair on our head.
Cura personalis.
In last Sunday’s gospel we heard the story of Jesus’ baptism, as recorded in the Gospel of Mark.
Jesus comes up out of the Jordan and hears the voice from heaven say, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
In the water of Baptism, we might say that Jesus himself experiences Cura Personalis, right?
And, it’s that sense of beloved-ness that must have sustained Jesus during his forty days of temptation in the wilderness.
And, it’s that sense of beloved-ness that must have sustained Jesus as he did his work of teaching and healing, proclaiming the kingdom.
And, it’s that sense of beloved-ness that must have sustained Jesus when he was confronted with rejection and underwent suffering, and even death.
In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus predicts his suffering and death – and, understandably enough, Peter does not want to hear it.
In fact, Peter is so distraught at the thought of his Lord suffering that he “rebukes” Jesus – a strong word that “rebuke.”
And, maybe because Jesus really was tempted to turn away from his destiny, Jesus “rebukes” Peter right back, “Get behind me Satan!”
Jesus then uses this unpleasant confrontation to do some hard teaching, telling his disciples – telling us – that to follow Jesus means taking up our own cross, enduring our own suffering, and giving away our lives in service to Jesus and his gospel.
Now, let’s be honest, promising suffering is not exactly a great church growth strategy.
After all, life has enough suffering as it is, right?
But, I think the call of Jesus to take up our cross and to follow him, to step out in faith, only makes sense, only has any appeal, if we recognize and remember that God cares for our whole person – that God loves us as individuals – and that God will not let go of us – God will not forget how many hairs are on our head.
Just as God did not let go of Jesus or forget Jesus during his time of suffering and death.
So, now in our time of deep shadows, many of us are so tired of being cooped up. Maybe, if we have the cash, we’ve been dealing with our boredom with “retail therapy,” by doing way more online shopping than before, maybe baking more bread than we can possibly eat.
Even as the number of vaccinations increases week by week, we remain anxious about the future, worried about the new variants that keep popping up, wondering when exactly the new normal will begin and what that new normal will look like.
We grieve the loss of so many – tomorrow would have been Sidney King’s birthday – and we surely miss him and so many others.
As you know, just last week we crossed the grim milestone of 500,000 Covid deaths here in our country. Like many of you, I was moved by the ceremony at the White House with all those candles lining the steps. I was touched when the National Cathedral tolled its bell 500 times, each toll representing 1,000 deaths.
But, it’s also true that it’s hard for us to wrap our minds around a number as big, as abstract, as 500,000, hard to feel what that number represents.
It’s hard for us to do that because that’s not what we’re made for.
God doesn’t look at our suffering and loss and see “500,000” or the “millions” more who have died around the world.
No, God sees and loves individuals – God sees and loves Sidney – God remembers all the hairs on his head - God sees and loves and won’t let go of each individual, each precious person who had particular hopes and fears, strengths and weaknesses, moments of pride and occasions for regret.
Cura personalis.
God loves us each as individuals, and we are meant to love one another as individuals.
And, for that, especially in a time of suffering and death, and maybe even boredom, we give thanks.
Amen.
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