Denise called. It took a few minutes before I understood her—she was crying so hard. She had discovered her husband had been unfaithful to her…again. It had been several years since this had happened before. They had worked hard on their marriage since that time. Within the past couple of years, she had trusted him again. The blow of discovering that this infidelity had actually been going on for close to a year—and that she had had no inkling of it—that awareness totally wiped her out.
“I can’t do this anymore! I can’t forgive and go on again! Mary, I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!” she sob-screamed into the phone.
Sean
Sean texted. His father has had Alzheimer’s for close to a decade. The diminishment has been gradual and the family has managed. His mother, he and his wife, and friends from church have provided the care his dad has needed. But now his mother is in the hospital. Her body seems to be giving out all over—pneumonia, kidney issues, no interest in anything. It is clear that at best she can no longer take care of her husband; at worst she will require long term care Sean and his family cannot provide—she will have to go to a nursing home. Sean’s text: “It is too much! I have too many decisions to make. God is with me, but I can’t do this. It is too hard!”
Moses
Denise and Sean are where Moses was in today’s first reading. The Israelites have been wandering for a while. They were hungry. Moses cried out to God, and God sent them manna—on the ground every morning for them to gather, grind, and make into bread. But bread alone sticks in your throat after a while. The people now want something else—meat (or cucumbers or melons or leeks or onions). The scene today is not a pretty one. All over the camp the people are standing at the entrance to their tents and crying out to the Lord (and Moses) “We want meat! We want meat! We want meat!”
To make things worse, God is angry at the people. Moses is stuck in the middle. He, too, cries out to God:
“Why do you treat your servant so badly?” Moses asked the LORD.
“Why are you so displeased with me
that you burden me with all this people?
Was it I who conceived all this people?
Or was it I who gave them birth,
that you tell me to carry them at my bosom,
like a foster father carrying an infant,
to the land you have promised under oath to their fathers?
Where can I get meat to give to all this people?
For they are crying to me,
The responsibility for others God has given him is too much. He can’t physically do what is needed. It’s so hard his heart is hardening. Moses is so overwhelmed that he is ready to die:
I cannot carry all this people by myself
for they are too heavy for me.
If this is the way you will deal with me,
then please do me the favor of killing me at once,
so that I need no longer face this distress.
When We Enter a Dark Night
I remember a week in 1990 when I was so overwhelmed that I yearned to die. I wasn’t truly suicidal, because I hadn’t given up, wasn’t even depressed in the true clinical sense. I just did not see how I could continue to put one foot in front of the other for one more day. My ability to care for those God had given me to care for was worn to a nub. My conversation with God that week was pretty much the same as Moses in today’s reading: “I can’t do this any more.”
I cried out to God…and sobbed…and cried out…and sobbed.
It didn’t seem like God heard me.
But, in retrospect, he did. God solved Moses’ problem with quail that came upon the camp every evening. I don’t know if you’ve ever eaten quail, but they are a lot of bone picking for a little bit of meat. God solved the problem, but it required a lot of work. Solutions for me required me to keep on keeping on…and a lot of work. But God gave me fortitude.
Jesus
In today’s Gospel Jesus is down. He has learned of the death of John the Baptist. He is at the height of his popularity with the people. Morning, noon, and night, someone is in front of him asking him for healing or help. He is exhausted. He seeks some time away—to rest, to pray, to come to terms with what John’s death means. He takes a boat across the lake to have a little retreat.
But the people do not let him retreat and rest. When he gets across the lake, they are already there. How does Jesus respond? Not like Moses, Denise, Sean, and me.
“When he disembarked and saw the vast crowd,
his heart was moved with pity for them, and he cured their sick.”
He did it all day. The people stayed. Evening grew near. Even then Jesus didn’t say, “Enough is enough. Go home. I need to rest.”
Instead he fed the people. He fed the 5000. THEN he sent the crowds away and his disciples away and had his rest.
Perseverance, Fortitude, and Self-Care
Perseverance is a natural virtue. It is continuing to hang on, even when things are difficult and no good ending is in sight.
Fortitude is perseverance that comes as a gift of the Holy Spirit. It is the courage and energy needed to continue when all that is human within us says, “I can’t go on.”
Sometimes we need to go on—even though we can’t. Fortitude works with the Holy Spirit gift of Counsel. Counsel guides us to discern what is the most right action to take. Fortitude works with Counsel to determine the right action, then to follow it through. Fortitude and Counsel help us know how to care for ourselves while continuing to care for others.
Fortitude and Counsel gave Jesus the ability to heal the sick all day and feed the 5000 in the evening—before he took his rest. Counsel and Fortitude gave Moses the help of swarms of quail that covered the Israelite camp.
In retrospect, Fortitude and Counsel helped me when I was overwhelmed. They are helping Denise and Sean. In fact, Sean texted another day: “It is amazing to me how the daily readings seem to be speaking to me these days. It is like God is speaking to me and telling me what I need to hear for that day.”
Like manna and quail in the desert. Like Jesus healing and feeding the 5000.
Prayer:
Today’s prayer is an excerpt from a prayer by Michael Quoist, a French priest who wrote a book, Prayers of Life, in 1954.
“Lord, why did you tell me to love all men, my brothers? I have tried, but I come back to you, frightened… They drag the world behind them, with everything rusted, twisted, or badly adjusted. Lord, they hurt me! They are in the way, they are everywhere, They are too hungry, they are consuming me! I can’t do anything any more; as they come in, they push the door, and the door opens wider… Lord! My door is wide open! I can’t stand it any more! It’s too much! It’s no kind of life! What about my job? My family? My peace? My liberty? And me? Lord, I have lost everything, I don’t belong to myself any longer; There’s no more room for me at home. Don’t worry, God says, you have gained all. While men came in to you, I, your Father, I, your God, Slipped in among them.”
Slip in among them for me today, Lord. Slip in with Fortitude and Counsel.
