The following meditation was written by Doug Hood's son,
Nathanael Hood, MA, New York University
“My heart is not proud, Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not
concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have
calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a
weaned child I am content. Israel, put your hope in the Lord both now and
forevermore.”
Psalm 131 (Common English Bible)
Since it began earlier
this year, the global COVID-19 quarantine has had some truly remarkable effects
on nature and the environment. Earlier this month an international team of
scientists announced that the sudden halting of, among other things, factory production
and car usage has resulted in global carbon emissions dropping by 17%. All
around the world this reduction has revealed itself in shocking, unexpected
ways. The perennially smog-drenched skies of Los Angeles are clean and blue for
the first time in many people’s memories. The sediments traditionally churned
up by Venetian boats have settled so completely that animal and plant life have
returned to the city’s formerly mud-choked waterways. In Delhi—the most
polluted city on earth—pollution has dropped so drastically that residents can
now see the stars at night. I’ve personally experienced the effect this
quarantine has had on New York City: for the first time since moving to
Brooklyn almost three years ago I can actually smell the salt water of the
Atlantic ocean.
Writer Julio Vincent
Gambuto has described this period as the “Great Pause,” and indeed it seems as
if the entire world is holding its breath. But it’s not just the environment
that’s paused, it’s life itself for billions of people. Jobs have been lost,
leaving countless families in financial limbo. Close-knit communities have been
disrupted as people have been forced to abandon public gatherings. Parents have
been stressed as schools have closed, forcing them to provide 24/7 childcare even
while working. Marriages have been strained and tested as some couples have
been separated by hospitalizations and others cloistered together in tiny
living spaces for months on end. And for those self-isolating in quarantine,
the days themselves have become a blur, the days running into weeks, the weeks
running into months. Is it Monday, Wednesday, or Saturday? March, April, or
May? What does it matter when they all seem the same?
Yet this pause need not
be a negative one. In a recent sermon, Rabbi David Edleson of Temple Sinai in
South Burlington, Vermont explained thusly: “I think it is very tough for many
if not most of us just to sit still, just to BE home, to be present and to be
content. This is a spiritual opportunity for growth. For stopping the focus on
what we can’t do, and finding ways to be more content doing nothing, or doing
simple things with those with us.” Indeed, the need for peace, silence, and
nothingness is baked into the very DNA of the Abrahamic faiths whose God rested
on the seventh day of creation. Our scriptures are all filled with visions of
quiet and calm, of sabbath rests and high holy days, of fasting and
contemplation. When Jesus calmed the storm on the Sea of Galilee, he rebuked
the very winds with the word “peace.” Perhaps this “Great Pause” isn’t a curse
but an opportunity to draw closer to God.
Psalm 131, one of the
shortest psalms in the bible, provides one of the most striking visions of
finding contentment in times of stillness and quiet. One of the fifteen Songs
of Ascent—psalms believed to be sung by worshippers traveling to Jerusalem
during pilgrim festivals—it celebrates calming oneself as an act of
surrendering one’s pride before God, and with it one’s anxieties about the
present and future. This ego-destruction frees us from the illusion that we can
control our destinies, and that we are therefore responsible for the unexpected
catastrophes and uncontrollable set-backs in our lives (a delusion common in
America’s up-by-the-bootstraps culture). By submitting ourselves to the
stillness of God, we release ourselves from psychological self-bondage. In this
way we find a contentment in peace that is healing, not distressing as we rest
in a pause that is holy, not destructive.
Joy,
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