Onward to Calvary

Movie Time

We watched Onward last night. Disney+ has been coming in clutch in helping our kids adjust to the new normal. We were all pretty excited when we saw that Disney decided to release their newest addition to the Pixar universe early on their streaming platform. 

Personally, I am a huge movie guy. I thoroughly enjoy passing the time watching and re-watching good movies. I like analyzing the plot, following the character development, and obnoxiously pointing out plot holes. To my delight, my kids have inherited my appreciation of cinema, as evidenced by the constant re-watching of the final battle scene of End Game (it’s somewhat of a bedtime tradition). Their passionate movie watching make up for all the times my bride, Monica, fell asleep and pretended that she was “just closing her eyes.”

It’s All A Game

With the stress level going from zero to apocalypse in the last few weeks, I’ve found myself looking forward to enjoying a good movie with the kids more often. According to Dr. Stuart Brown, and his book Play, my movie connoisseur-ship probably comes from the fact that, for me, movie watching is a form of play. I’m convinced that he would argue during our pandemic-corona-toilet paper crisis-quarantine-time, we should shift our focus on play even more than usual in order to weather the storm. He states in his book that, “When play is denied over the long term, our mood darkens. We lose our sense of optimism and we become anhedonic, or incapable of feeling sustained pleasure.”

So bring on the movies!

He goes on to identify, what he calls, 8 play personalities (You can read more about those here), and one of my play personalities, the one that loves movies, he calls “The Storyteller.” Brown says that story tellers, “Love going on adventures through imagination.” Yup. That’s me! I don’t just watch movies, I mentally place myself in the movie, and join the characters on the adventure.

Now, I may never be a staff wielding, elf-wizard on an quest to bring back my father for 24 hours, but for that hour and 45 minutes of Onward, I was there, and I was playing.

Imagination Connection

An upside to this type of play coming naturally for me is that my imagination, and desire to be part of the story, has helped me in my prayer life and reflection time during the Gospel reading for the Palm Sunday Liturgy.

By nature the format of the Gospel this Sunday is meant to have us enter the story. Unlike the usual Gospel readings, this Sunday we are given our own parts to read and respond with. So as I listened to the recounting of the Last Supper, my movie play mode kicked in:

“When it was evening, he reclined at table with the Twelve.” (Mt 26:20)

But I wasn’t in a Pixar or Marvel film, I was at the table with Jesus among the twelve.

“And while they were eating, he said, “Amen, I say to you, one of you will betray me.” Deeply distressed at this, they began to say to him one after another, “Surely it is not I, Lord?”  (Mt 26:21-22)

That’s me. Promising Jesus that there’s no way I would betray him. But he knows better, and, if I’m honest, I know better. 

One thing this coronavirus has really revealed to me is how little faith I have. Like Peter, I proudly proclaim after great moments of encounter and consolation that, “Though all may have their faith in you shaken, mine will never be.” (Mt 26:33), but then one of my kids coughs or sneezes, and I quickly find myself playing worst-case-scenario in my head while trying not too overcook their scrambled eggs. I’m good at worst-case-scenario and I’m good at eggs. I wish I was just good at eggs. But here I am: at the slightest sign of danger I’m running away from Jesus, and burning breakfast.

Now to be clear, it is not my personal well-being that brings about this sense of dread. I’m with Peter in saying, “Even though I should have to die with you, I will not deny you.” (Mt 26:35). It’s the fear that something will happen to my family; it’s my lack of trust in a God who loves them more than I can love them.

And while I’m in the story of the Passion, Jesus shows me the way, “Yet, not as I will, but as You will” (Mt 26:39). 

In The Story

One of the hardest parts as a dad during this pandemic is my absolute and complete lack of control. I can wear the PPE, wash my hands until the brown comes off, wipe down the counters every 5 minutes, and the virus can still enter our home. I have no control over how their immune systems will fight it off, or what the level of medical assistance will be available if the hospitals in our area are overrun. I can only control one thing.

When trouble comes, will I run to Jesus or from Jesus? And when I run to Jesus, am I ready to say to him “Yet, not as I will, but as you will.” Because Jesus is not looking to take away my suffering, He is showing me how to suffer well. My cup will come, it may come in a week or in a year, but suffering is a inevitable part of the human experience. Jesus didn’t come to take away our crosses, but to show us how to carry them. 

If you get a moment this Holy Week, read and pray with Matthew chapters 26 and 27. Let yourself enter the story. And hopefully you’ll find, like I did, that same story is playing out in your own journey of faith right now. 

Verso L’alto - Renzo

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Finding Hope In The Crowd: A Quarantined Palm Sunday Reflection