Two years into this pandemic, surely all of us have those moments when all is not well with our soul. Due to a Covid outbreak, I once again find myself cloistered in a room. Though on this frosty Friday outdoors it feels like -20°C, it is cozy in my room and yet there are chilblains on my soul. Chilblains, you may ask. On your soul, you may ask. Yes, there is a chill in my soul.
My room faces the steep incline of a hill, so I do not have ‘a room with a view.’ What I do have on this bitterly cold morning, are dainty frost flowers on my windowpane. Do you notice the perfectly shaped heart in the bottom right-hand quarter? That icy heart caused me to pause and ponder. I asked myself whether the icy finger of the pandemic has painted chilblains on my heart and soul.
This pondering brought to mind Henri Nouwen’s reminder that, “Each day holds a surprise [or more!!!]. But only if we expect it can we see, hear, or feel it when it comes to us...whether it comes to us as sorrow, or as joy. It will open a new place in our hearts”. This first day of being newly cloistered, certainly came as a surprise, laden with sorrow. I really should have seen it coming. The most recent Omicron ‘mantra’ warned us that it is not a matter of ‘if’ we will have an outbreak but ‘when’ we will have an outbreak.
Obviously, I did not listen nor really prepare myself for this déjà vu experience of once again being cloistered in a hermitage. When seen through the rear-view mirror of experience, hindsight provides insight into what we missed. So, now I am cloistered once again. If, according to Thomas Merton, “Every breath we draw is a gift of God’s love; every moment of existence a grace,” how, despite covid fatigue, do we embrace each moment of this strange Covid existence as a graced moment? Much has been written about the pandemic offering us time to take stock, to evaluate our lifestyles, to make healthier choices for our planet.
Can I view this time of isolation as gift, as a time to appeal to the better angels of my nature? Here and now, cloistered in my hermitage, can I choose wisely to use this opportunity to offer my chilblained soul hospitality, a nurturing space conducive for change to take place within me? If I do, might these turn out to be graced moments, opening up a window to my soul to peer inside with new eyes? Might I discover what St. Bernard of Clairvaux calls, “the real behind the real”? In the stillness of my hermitage, my soul might give voice to the real reason, why all is not well with my soul. I have a sense it may whisper that by my attitude to this elusive viral enemy I am putting myself in the way of grace. Have I given this pandemic, this moronic Omicron, the power to inflict chilblains on my soul? As you and I stumble forward in this pandemic, what ongoing change of attitude will assure that we will eventually embrace the newly evolving normal with grace and confidence? Yes, these have been soul-destroying times. Undoubtedly, we all need to confront the challenges we face. However, let us also remember the joys of life and the hope that can fill our lives and that we can bring to others, even while nestled in isolation.
“You listen with only one purpose: to help the person empty their hearts”
The well-known Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh died recently. Among his many qualities, he was known for being an extraordinarily good listener. He believed that deep listening helps relieve the suffering of another person for, “You listen with only one purpose: to help the person empty their hearts.” I believe, we also need to listen deeply to the whispers of our own soul so as to empty our heart. There may well be chilblains on my soul. Maybe, on yours, too. But let us trust in God, who created and lives in our soul. God is not ‘out there.’ “God is in all, through all, and with all” (1 Corinthians 15:28). With God’s help healing can occur so we can joyfully acclaim, “It is well with my soul.” Even during this pandemic.
-Sister Magdalena Vogt, cps