It hasn’t been very long since I returned from a span of parental leave which began when our new son, Gabriel, came home from the hospital. Since he came to us as one “untimely born,” the first weeks of Gabriel life demanded that he take his place in a second womb, of sorts. The extraordinary efforts of the medical team at Lenox Hill Hospital, under the various demands amplified by the pandemic, secured our little one’s life and our eternal gratitude. Gabriel will be three months old soon, and I am happy to report that he and his mother, Megan, are healthy and well. At his homecoming, we soon became ensconced in those practically monastic hours, his feeding and care schedule. And, thank heaven, he’s already tripled in weight. His big brother, Samuel, is as enchanted by him as we are (so far!).
I am also happy to report (especially to you, Dr. Filsell) that two-year-old Sam has now learned to sing! His is an earnest and lovely falsetto monotone that serves well for most any song. One part of Sam’s bedtime routine is our going to Gabriel’s crib to sing goodnight to baby brother. The primary song we are singing these nights is a touchingly simple lullaby by Fred Rogers:
I’m taking care of you
Taking good care of you
For once I was very little too
Now I take care of you.
It is a sublime meditation that draws me to know ever more deeply that my capacity to care for others is result of those who cared for me, fed me by hand, years ago, both the living and the dead. Indeed, we thrive because of a great chain of care and love that tethers us, link by link, life by life, all the way back to Eden and the loving hands that shaped old Adam out of the dust of the ground.
Now that I have returned to larger spheres of activity with the parish, the school, and the larger life of Saint Thomas, and we are making our many preparations to welcome people back to in-person worship for the great services of Holy Week, I find myself returning to these verses during the day. And I find my heart awhirl with how involved our community is in this same sort of time-deferred process of care of parent to child.
Saint Thomas is a place where those who were once little, now wise in certain ways, some living some dead, are equipped to lead those who are new and growing in paths of faith, learning, and sacred music. Our living traditions of worship, teaching, and faith community organizing (and now our expanding tradition of global, online communication) are all a complex network of avenues for acts of care, in our case care in the name of Christ. At Saint Thomas, we link up to the great chain of caring that gives us access to the love of God with such electric potency. And I am so very pleased that this Holy Week will serve as another chance to grow in caring for one other, face to face, and, one fine day, unmasked.
“Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us.” 1 John 4:10
