It has nothing to do with the pandemic: I abstained from Covid-phobia; I was out and about every single day all day for the last year and a half.
Perhaps it is a sign of aging. Perhaps it is a preparation for death, the final loneliness. Perhaps it is a quiet participation in the hermetic vocation, about which we read so much daily in the Magnificat, even as I live a gregarious, active life.
It is connected to the papacy of Francis. For almost my entire adult life I delighted in a constant, euphoric communion with John Paul, Benedict, as well as the entire Church on earth and of the ages. I have lost that. Much that is beautiful and sacred to me is scorned by the current Pope. But he is my Pope. I have no choice but to suffer a disappointment.
More concretely and specifically, however, I have over this period suffered a sense of separation, of rupture with at least a handful of those very close to me. Happily, in almost all cases we remain close to each other and mutually respectful and affection. Nothing like a full rupture. More like a significant disagreement on something of importance. Helpful feedback recently from my nephew made me aware that I am passionately engaged with what I have received as True, Good and Beautiful and also craving of intimacy with those I love in those realities. Result: it is a deep loss to differ with someone I love on what is sacred.
Like everyone, I am myself a distinctive combination of many forces. The traditional Catholicism I received from my family was intensified by the charismatic renewal, the Communio theology of Benedict and John Paul, and a lifelong desire to serve the poor. Secondary influences include: walking for a time in the Neocatechumenal Way, friendship with Communion and Liberation, 12-step spirituality, my work as a supervisor in UPS, the conservatism of First Things, Rene Girard mediated by Gil Baile, and others. It goes without saying, of course, that first and foremost is my marriage and family. Recently I realize there really is no one exactly like me: I enjoy a unusual number (I think) of intimate intellectual/spiritual friends with whom I share many of these realities. But with no one do I share all of them. For example, I can think of only three among my circle who share the charismatic experience, something that was important to me. Conservative friends may not be too passionate about service of the poor; and viceversa. And so, I stand alone in a way.
As mentioned, there is a peace, a sweetness to this solitude. It comes to me as an invitation to (in the words of my nephew) "detach with love." To renounce inordinate attachment and free the beloved friend to be himself or herself, rather than the fulfilment of my longing. It comes as an invitation to prayer, to quiet communion with our Lord Jesus, who alone can share with me in intimacy the fullness of Truth and Good and Beauty that I crave so desperately.
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