Reliance on God's Mercy and Power to See Us through Defeat

In today's first reading, 1 Samuel 4: 1-11, the Israelites are defeated by their enemy, the Philistines. In the first battle, they lose 4,000 men. Astounded that the Lord allowed the Philistines to defeat them, they go to Shiloh to get the ark of the Lord to take into battle with them. The ark of the Lord to the Israelites might be viewed as we Catholics view the Tabernacle. In this second battle, the Philistines defeat the Israelites again, killing 30,000 men. The ark of the Lord was captured as well and Eli's two sons, Hophne and and Phinehas, were among those killed in the fight!

Is it possible that the Israelites relied more upon a religious symbol than upon the Lord's mercy? Do we sometimes rely on our religious traditions and symbols to bring about our victories? The time will come for all of us when all we have is our naked faith, so to speak, and nothing we attempt will work! Totally powerless,  we will stand before the Lord in our defeat and say with the psalmist:

"...you have cast us off and put us in disgrace,
and you go not forth with our armies.
You have let us be driven back by our foes;
those who hated us plundered us at will. 
You made us the reproach of our neighbors,
the mockery and the scorn of those around us.
You made us a byword among the nations,
a laughingstock among the peoples.
Why do you hide your face,
forgetting our woe and our oppression?
For our souls are bowed down to the dust,
our bodies are pressed to the earth" (Psalm 44 of today's liturgy).

It is very challenging to be faced, at times, with the fact that religious symbols and rituals, even when multiplied many times, may yield no results and we are left standing before our Savior begging the Lord to "redeem us because of His mercy" and not because of our multiplication of religious rituals or our addition of an enormous number of rote prayers (see the response to today's responsorial psalm).F

The Indescrible Pain of a Situational Depression

In today’s first reading, Job 3: 1-3, 11-17, 2023, Job curses the day that he was born. Sunk into a deep depression caused by the loss of everything—his children and his property—Job is so distraught that death seems to be the only solution to his indescribable pain.  “Why did I not perish at birth,” He asks the Lord. “Why is…life [given] to the bitter in spirit? They wait for death and it comes not; they search for it rather than for hidden treasures, rejoice in it exultingly and are glad when they reach the grave: those whose path is hidden from them, and whom God has hemmed in!”  Depression can be so painful that death seems like the only out.  In my deepest pain, I have said: “Lord, I understand why some people consider suicide.”  Job was at that point.

Both Job and the psalmist, in today’s responsorial psalm, Psalm 88, teach us how to bare our souls to the Lord  when we are in the pit of desolation: 

                                Let my prayer come before you;

                                Incline your ear to my call for help.

                                For my soul is surfeited with troubles

                                And my life draws near to the nether world.

                                I am numbered with those who go down into the pit;

                                I am a man [a woman, a young girl/boy] without strength.

                                My couch is among the dead,

                                Like the slain who lie in the grave,

                                …who are cut off from your care.

                                You have plunged me into the bottom of the pit,

                                Into the dark abyss....                             

When we are in such darkness, it is important not to minimize it. Others may do that in hopes of making us feel better. The fact is we are in pain.  That is what needs to be expressed in agonizing prayer (the way Jesus talked to His Father in Gethsemane). It also needs to be talked about with someone who is supportive and loving and doesn’t need to “fix” it.  Sometimes all the other can do is hold our hand. I read a book recently of a man suffering a serious situational depression. Besides seeing a professional counselor, what most helped him was the person who visited him daily and simply, with his permission, massaged his feet--that connection was the only connection he felt. The friend remained silent as he lovingly did the foot massage. He did not offer meaningless platitudes. He was supportive, as Mary was beneath the cross of Jesus, where she shared her Son’s powerlessness.

What do I do when  someone I love is suffering a darkness that I am powerless to remove?  Am I willing to be there without trying to “fix” it?  Or, do I stay away because I do not want to feel powerless with the person in a pit so deep that the solution  is out of reach at the moment?