A Reflection on Our Present Moment

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth. The former heaven and the former earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. I also saw the holy city, a new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God. … I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, God’s dwelling is with the human race. He will dwell with them and they will be his people and God will always be with them as their God.’ God will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, for the old order has passed away.”
(Revelation 21:1-4)

Apocalypse. From the Greek apo- (“un-“) and kaluptein (“to cover”). A sudden disclosure.

Apocalypse. The final book of the Christian Scriptures, more familiarly known to English readers of the Bible as Revelation, from the Latin re- (“un-) and velare(“to cover”). A lifting of the veil.

Apocalypse. According to the “Oxford English Dictionary”: “a disaster resulting in drastic, irreversible damage to human society or the environment, esp. on a global scale; a cataclysm.” A turning point.

Apocalypse. The year 2020, during which we humans discovered that our mastery of nature is a lie, that for all of our technological advances, we can still be brought to our knees or worse by a subcellular agent of infiltration hiding inside of us — only to then learn, almost simultaneously,  that our American mythology, founded on tall tales of equality for all and manifest destiny and exceptionalism secured by God’s blessing, is also a lie and no match for the persistent and pernicious stain of racism that preceded all those subsequent stories and that is the primordial muck out from which this nation crept forth.

Apocalypse. A sudden disclosure. A lifting of the veil. A turning point.

But not really, for none of what we have been living through these last few days and weeks, however apocalyptic it seems, should come as a surprise. The devastation of the coronavirus and the national outrage occasioned by the murders — the modern-day lynchings — of Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd, and the countless Breonnas and Ahmauds and Georges who preceded them in ignominious death, should come as no surprise. What was under cover and behind the veil has been there all along. Some of us simply weren’t looking, and some of us have never had the luxury of looking away. The loss of human life to COVID-19 has been the effect of biology, yes, but equally or even more so the result of deliberate social engineering and immoral politicking, of conscious efforts to keep vast swaths of society in perpetual states of need and dependence and bondage for the benefit of a select few, of the same sinful policies that enabled the growth of modern-day police forces from colonial slave patrols.

No, the real apocalypse, the real disclosure, the real turning point still lies ahead of us. It will come when those of us who have willfully turned our gaze elsewhere pull back the veil and see with clear vision the rot deep in the core of our humanity and repentantly beg for God’s healing grace.

Much has been said about the uneven impact of the coronavirus on marginal and vulnerable populations or about what might be an “appropriate” response to the chaos that has claimed our cities. I will forego further pontificating and instead challenge the privileged among us to take action, to look to our own hearts and see where we need God’s—and humanity’s—forgiveness, to name the times when we have been agents of oppression rather than liberation. For my part, I will try to stand humbly before Jesus, lynched by the state and nailed to the cross, and ask: What have I done to heal the wounds of racism, what am I doing to heal the wounds of racism, what ought I to do to heal the wounds of racism?

We will have time to reflect together on these questions and to learn from one another in order to do our collective part to confront and dismantle white supremacy. Soon I will announce a division-wide, online retreat for Mission and Ministry that will take place later this summer. We will spend part of our time during that retreat thinking about how we can cultivate a culture of anti-racism witnessed in our attitudes and by our practices. We will discern together what our role is in bringing forth a new earth, God’s own kingdom and dwelling with the human race, so that an end may be brought to death and to mourning.

In the meantime, I want to acknowledge the toll that living through these times takes on all of us. As the boundaries between home life and professional life, between rest and work, become ever blurrier, we may forget to take care of ourselves. We all need time for rest, for family, for community, for prayer, for play. Some of us may find encouragement in the instruction on mission that Ignatius of Loyola issued in 1552, in which he reminded the members of his young Society of Jesus that those laboring in the vineyard should have three primary concerns: themselves, their neighbors, and the society as a whole. It is noteworthy that St. Ignatius puts self first. He writes that the Jesuit on mission should “take care not to neglect himself for the sake of helping others” and cautions that sin can become a motivation for doing good works if we let it. And for those who fear that resting from the struggle only advantages the oppressors, black-lesbian-feminist activist Audre Lorde reminds us: “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence. It is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”

Given all that we have been through, and all that is yet to come, it is important that we do the best we can in our present circumstances to mind our own needs. As the summer officially begins, self-care means making sure that we take time off for refreshment and relaxation. Just because most of us won’t be going very far beyond our own homes this summer doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t pause now and again. So, please consult with your supervisor and make sure that you schedule some time for vacation just as you would any other summer. If we are going to make a fresh start, we are going to need fresh bodies, minds, and spirits. Bringing about an apocalypse, the real kind, is hard work.

May God bless us all and draw us closer in love to Godself and to one another, so that together we might soften the wailing and lessen the pain of all who suffer.

Peace,
John

John T. Sebastian, Ph.D.
Vice President for Mission and Ministry
Professor of English

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