The... end... of... the... summer... No song like this one by the Dynamic Duo manages to arouse that bittersweet feeling that one feels on days like today, when the sorrow of leaving the time of rest mixes with a strange illusion of returning to the necessary routine.
For days, newspapers have been publishing interviews with psychologists and psychiatrists who explain how to avoid the so-called post-holiday syndrome, how to adapt to the change of activity or how to cope with the return to school, which this year will be "the most expensive in history" due to the galloping inflation.
Nostalgia is envy towards oneself, towards the "I" of the past. It is a feeling that basks in contemplating the good things I had that I can no longer have. There is a certain perverse taste in those tears of self-pity, in that licking one's wounds as if one were the center of the world. "Poor me," the nostalgic person consoles himself, "that I have to endure a cosmic conspiracy against my happiness. Turning our life into drama has even become a fashion on social networks. It is the so-called "sadfishing" consisting of sharing publications or videos in which the aim is to give pity in order to get the public's sympathy and, therefore, more followers.
Faced with the temptation of nostalgia, we must ask for the gift of hope. It is not easy to obtain, because we tend to resist grace. We prefer to settle down and stay in our comfort zone. Abraham, the father of the faith of more than half the inhabitants of the planet, serves as a model for us in the face of sedentary lifestyles. Obeying the voice of the Father: "Go forth from your land", he set out on his journey, without fear of the future, supported only by a promise. Lot's wife, on the other hand, turned into a pillar of salt for looking back, warns us of the danger of not wanting to let go, of not trusting that God is already ahead of us, preparing the way. For the second time, Abraham went out of himself, taking his son Isaac with him, and went up Mount Moriah with him, ready to sacrifice him, convinced that, in God, there is no room for evil.
On so many occasions, the Word of God speaks to us of trusting, of hoping against hope, of not longing for the past like the people of Israel when they missed the onions of Egypt, for that is not God's desire. In the face of this feeling, the beatitudes speak to us of a great reward for those who hope and trust in God. Why worry about starting a new stage? Do we distrust the one who gave his life for us?
I am not naïve. I know that the difficulties we face throughout our lives are many and sometimes very hard, but He has promised to be with us, every day, until the end of the world. In His company, the yoke is soft and light.
Returning to work, to study, to domestic or pastoral tasks may make us lazy, but there He is waiting for us. The Holy Spirit is always alive, on the move, drawing us out of the cenacle and taking us to the rooftops, less safe zones where it is He, and not us, who speaks in languages. Like the golden snitch of J. K. Rowling's universe, its fluttering is capricious and swift, not easy to follow and not easily caught. So many times it baffles us when we see how it throws down our plans and tells us: "come on, start again". Couldn't everything be as easy as it was in summer, couldn't we go back to the way things were before?
In order not to deny his nudges that pull us out of lukewarmness, we must have a faith like Abraham's. He would see opportunities and challenges where others see insurmountable obstacles or enemies bent on annoying us. He would see opportunities and challenges where others see insurmountable obstacles or enemies bent on annoying us; he would feel God's call to get up and go to a better place where others feel dread, clinging to our structures like a child clinging to his mother on his first day of school; he would look forward to the future when we are depressed at not being able to return to the past.
The end of summer is here, our activity changes, but the Lord gives us a promise for this new course and that is that "I will never, never forget you".
