Family Faith Reflections from Chris

In high school, I earned my money mowing lawns. My favorite client was Margie. She was about 150 years old way back then, so I doubt she'll complain that I'm telling you this story now.

Marge was a widow who paid me to mow her tiny lawn, and then insisted that I stay for an hour and a half of lemonade and chitchat (which she also insisted on paying me for). Margie was a sweet old bird, but lonely. She never left her home. Groceries were delivered, handymen and cleaners had weekly appointments. She once told me, “I even do my own church right here in my easy chair. I have my Bible and God, that's all I need.”
 
But it really wasn't.
 
In the Gospel, Jesus — the almighty Son of God, in case that wasn't clear — gathered a team of disciples because it was his intention to establish a community of faith. Look at Sunday's first reading: the apostles have continued to stress that the communal life was central to the Christian path. “They committed themselves to
communal life, to the breaking of the bread, and to the prayers.” Even all the way back in Genesis, God was expressing his desire for people to experience him
together (see Genesis 2:18). And so it seemed only natural that the Christians would passionately take their community to the next level. They lived together, worked together, prayed together, and during times of persecution they even died together.


But now, our Church has been scattered. Holy Trinity, a vibrant, joyful, welcoming community, has entered the tomb. We are cut off from familiar faces, and many of us, like Old Margie, are sitting in our recliners with just a Bible and God — and, because it's the 21st Century, Mass on YouTube.
 
(You-charist?)
 
We risk losing the “communal life” that our ancestors worked so hard to build. But we don't need to! This time of social distance does not necessarily have to be a time of spiritual distance. The same Holy Spirit that was filling our hearts in January is still filling them now, and the same Communion that made us one at Christmas is binding us to each other here in the Easter season. So let's be committed to the renewal of our spiritual union, which has never been broken (and never will be)!
 
Pull out the old parish directory. Call someone you wouldn't usually call. Write a letter. Visit the parish Facebook page and leave a comment to let us know how you're doing. Read someone else's comment and leave a reply! Spam Deacon Brett with cat photos (that's  [email protected], in case you need it). Send Al and the Community Outreach team an encouraging email. Check in with your kid's old third-grade teacher. Reconnect with someone you haven't talked to in a while.
 

Because before too long, our church is going to burst out of this temporary tomb and the Body of Christ will be as strong as it ever was!
 

Or maybe we'll use this time to strengthen our bonds, to reunite the Old Margie’s of the world with our joyful parish community, and we'll come out of the tomb stronger than we have ever been before.