Reflection for Wednesday of the First Week of Advent
On this mountain the LORD of hosts will provide for all peoples a feast of rich food and pure, choice wines. On this mountain he will destroy the veil that veils all peoples. Is 25:6-10
The photo is one of the bald mountains on the Appalachian Trail. I’ve used it a number of times to illustrate a spiritual journey of conversion – to men inquiring about becoming a deacon, to prisoners who are within a year or two of getting released, and to people who’ve come to various programs looking to grow in their own spirituality. I am now thinking it could describe our pandemic journey of conversion.
Let me first describe some features in the photo. In the foreground are blueberries, and lots of them. After hiking for several days, it was sheer delight to have fresh berries on my oatmeal that morning. In the background is Old Bald, a mountaintop veiled in mist. Visible in the distance is a thin, serpentine path that leads up to the top of the mountain.
Looking at the photo, our natural tendency is to focus on the delightful berries in the foreground and the mountain-top goal in the background. Our task oriented eyes then zero in on the path – the way to achieve our goal.
This particular image would align with our pre-pandemic days back in February and March. The present was delightful, and the future looked glorious, and the path was predictable.
In the photo and in life, we overlooked one important detail: the immediate issues right beyond the crest of the hill. The trail plummeted into a craggy little valley filled with briars, mud and rocks. It was humid and buggy. As a crow flies it might have been a nice glide from one peak to the next. As a human walks, it was tough slog both descending into the swale and climbing back out.
If this were the “Pandemic Trail” instead of the Appalachian Trail, we’d no doubt be somewhere near the bottom. Instead of mosquitos and briars, we’re threading our way through masking requirements, social distancing and contact tracing. There’d be conflicting opinions on which path to take. We’d be walking with the constant fear of who’s going to be afflicted next and doubt as to whether we’ll ever emerge.
Our tendency is to look at this pandemic trail as physical and material, one that can be conquered with masks and vaccines. As anyone who has hiked the Appalachian Trail will tell you, its not so much a physical challenge, but an emotional and spiritual dive into one’s self and his or her place in this crazy world of ours. Most who hike the trial do so to emerge with a deeper faith and broader perspective on life.
I’m thinking we need to look at this Pandemic Trail also as a means by which we can emerge with a deeper faith and a broader perspective on life. Our Christian hope tells us there is a glorious mountain ahead. It may be veiled in mist so we don’t know exactly what it will looks like, but we know it is there. Our faith tells us that we’re not meant to lurch and stumble around in a swale forever. God has prepared a path forward.
Our true success on the Pandemic Trail won’t come from our own strength, cunning and endurance, but only by turning to God and deploying the given virtues of faith, hope, and love. Faith, knowing with certainty that we’ll get through this. Hope, knowing that we’ll end up in a better place. Love, being the guiding principle that governs each step we take.