My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me all day long, “Where is your God?”
Ps. 42:3
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Is. 41:10
Someone who had also been part of a small provisional community some years ago, and now works at Poverello, told me something quite beautiful before I came to Madrid: most of the times, prayers in small provisional communities are really poor. We sing badly, there are problems with the planning, we forget lyrics, or we just are not with our thoughs properly assembled and need an extra 15 minutes in the church to be able to speak to God, but the daily chores call us.
In Taizé I used to feel truly protected during the songs, as if I was a small cog in a perfect polyphonic machine, and sometimes I felt as if the Holy Spirit was with us, a great fraternity would impose itself through song, a beautiful song of praise (small detail, we're sleeping in the friars chambers, and in mine there's a beautiful medieval-style tile where it's written donde musica hubiere cosa mala no existiere), and I could relax. Chants with just the two of us is much more fragile, there's no where to hide or relax, there's no one else to help us through.
It really is just the two of us in a small chapel (this will change, we start inviting people very soon), and there's certainly an element of loneliness to it. Definetively a thought for the year of Joy, isn't it? (You must forgive us, it is to hot to think).
One would think this would create a great malaise, and to some extent, in the beginning it is certainly strange. But I think it works in our favour, this apparent isolation, for it does brings us closer, especially to God (in this aspect it might resemble the first christians).
Our weaknesses and flaws, all of it is exposed. But, by putting our trust in God, even if we can only fully do this for a couple of seconds, we gain His mercy.
One of the first texts we read was Mark 8:34-37 ( Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me), which seems perfectly approppriate right now. We must forget our perfectionism, comfort and plans, for we are here to serve others and to follow Him.
Many of the young men we meet in our work at SERCADE - Programme Afrique experience daily what most of us can afford to experience in months. All of them had to leave their countries, families, and risk their lives coming here. Some of them are seriously ill (sometimes with diseases who have been developing and unproperly treated for years), but still must walk many kilometers daily. All of them must have felt lonely, hopeless, wandering through foreign lands and languages. Night and day, they have but their tears to feed their Hunger. So where is their God? Where is God's love and protection in the middle of this calamity? Where is God when we suffer? Where is God when I listen from a Capuchin Friar (who welcome us here) that the 200+ Capuchins in Spain have a median age of 75 years and that they're closing convents? Where is God when I call Him?
There is much suffering and it seems we're fewer and fewer, but this is why we must find Him, He who strenghten and helps us.
The Psalm above, before the verse quoted, reads: "My soul thirsts for God, for the living God". I believe that this thirst is inherent to all of us. For those who have it, it never seems to be quenched, but it makes wonders in us. It gives us Hope and Joy, it teaches us not only how to live, but also how to overcome our challenges, to praise life, to give us to others, to love. And there will always be people moved by this force (the capuchins might close convents, but their social work continues unwavering, their presence is firmly felt) that will help others.
Francisco
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