When Prayer is All That’s Left To Do

Deacon Greg reflects today on the hurricane after seeing his church in Queens filled to the rafters.

I’m reminded of what we went through after 9/11, when churches were suddenly packed. Eventually, like all floods, that one ebbed. I wonder if we will see the same thing after Sandy. It’s possible. But this particular event isn’t over yet, and won’t be for months. There is a lingering sense of something vaguely apocalyptic, something that will change how we live and where we live, and that will have an impact we can’t yet measure because, quite simply, we’ve never experienced something quite like this. We don’t have the tools to gauge what we’re going through. A fifth of the population has been impacted by something far beyond our control.

So what else is there to do, but hit your knees?

I also think this is a peculiarly Catholic impulse: when you can’t do anything else, you simply have to pray. And the Church has an arsenal of prayers at the ready for times like these: novenas, rosaries, holy hours, devotions. We are a praying people. And we are better because of it. Our conversations with the Almighty give us solace, and a sense of solidarity, too. We are in this together.

And when we rise from our knees and stretch our backs and shuffle back out, blinking, into the light of day, we feel somehow assured—and reassured— that we are not alone.

God is in this with us, too.

Amen. For all those still in harm’s way, I pray that you find warmth and safe keeping. Know that you remain in our prayers along with the prayers of all the Saints on this feast day.