In late summer, my husband and I went hiking in Harriman State Park in New York. It was a brief escape from New York City after many months of being trapped in our one-bedroom apartment as a result of COVID-19. Within ten minutes of walking in the woods, my cell phone service went out, and I suddenly realized I was more disconnected from the outside world than I had been in months. No more texts; no more news alerts; no more emails. For a full hour, it was just footsteps in the woods until we arrived at a clear blue lake.
When Jesus heard of John the Baptist’s violent and unjust death at the hands of Herod, his response was to withdraw in a boat to a deserted place by himself. I find comfort in the fact that even Jesus had to step away to take in the full scope of John’s tragic death and all that it might mean.
On that lakeside, sitting in the shade of a tall pine tree, I thought about the violence and tragedy that we had briefly left behind: the morgue trucks outside the hospitals; the sudden increase in desperation and homelessness in our neighborhood; and murderous police brutality. It was a moment of holy respite that allowed us to return and recommit to building a more just future.
—Miguel Angel Escobar
Saints, share your personal REFLECTIONS here:
Lent Reflection – February 25th 2021
In late summer, my husband and I went hiking in Harriman State Park in New York. It was a brief escape from New York City after many months of being trapped in our one-bedroom apartment as a result of COVID-19. Within ten minutes of walking in the woods, my cell phone service went out, and I suddenly realized I was more disconnected from the outside world than I had been in months. No more texts; no more news alerts; no more emails. For a full hour, it was just footsteps in the woods until we arrived at a clear blue lake.
When Jesus heard of John the Baptist’s violent and unjust death at the hands of Herod, his response was to withdraw in a boat to a deserted place by himself. I find comfort in the fact that even Jesus had to step away to take in the full scope of John’s tragic death and all that it might mean.
On that lakeside, sitting in the shade of a tall pine tree, I thought about the violence and tragedy that we had briefly left behind: the morgue trucks outside the hospitals; the sudden increase in desperation and homelessness in our neighborhood; and murderous police brutality. It was a moment of holy respite that allowed us to return and recommit to building a more just future.
—Miguel Angel Escobar
Saints, share your personal REFLECTIONS here: