Spiritual Sonar Provides Us With Support And Hope
“One ping,” barks the submarine captain, and his radio operator fires a short, high-pitched tone into dark water, seeking an object off of which to bounce, alerting the crew to its existence. From dozens of WWII movies to “The Hunt for Red October,” these scenes always grab my attention. The laws of physics allow for the measurement of distance based upon the speed of sound through water: A tone sent through salt water will return off a solid object at a predictable rate and intensity. The first human application of this principle is reported to have been made by Leonardo DaVinci in the 15th century; and by the 1920s, Sound Navigation and Ranging – sonar – was used with precision to locate targets underwater.
In the age of “social media,” something sonar-like occurs daily. Status updates or Tweets are fired off into the deep-blue of the Internet like pings from a submarine – in hopes they will encounter someone and bounce back to us as comments, a “likes,” or a “re-tweets.” During a recent visit, one of my sisters-in-law took a picture of my wife and me, and she posted it on Facebook with the tag: “Is this the cutest couple ever?” I’m almost embarrassed to admit our excitement that 39 of her friends “liked” that comment—clearly we are adorable! Facebook and Twitter lend themselves to this type of interaction—a simple signal sent out in hopes of learning that we’re not alone, that others are out there somewhere and willing to acknowledge our experiences.
Lately, as I navigate a dark patch in the waters of my life, I’ve been trying my sonar on God. Prayers are broadcast into the unknown in hopes I’ll receive what I’m asking. I “ping” in petition, but my alternate hope is that a reply will prove I’m not alone in the dark water, that God is real and listening. Unfortunately, when I don’t immediately hear His echo, I grow disheartened. Despite good intentions, I have had to realize that my secondary goal has been to lure God into contact. I know this betrays my doubts, those that live in the abyss of my heart, way down where I don’t often prefer to go.
I should confess that this isn’t a feel-good column where, in the end, I reveal how God “pinged” in reply, I suddenly felt His presence, and the cold darkness was replaced by the warm currents of His love. I am writing from my desolation, as St. Ignatius called it, holding on to what I believe, trying to learn why God has allowed this period, and persisting in the hope that He will lead me to peaceful waters. But, this turbulence has led me to greater sensitivity to the “pinging” of others.
A friend recently confessed that she was considering asking her doctor to prescribe anti-depressants. Sadly, I know many young people who struggle with faith in similar dark times, and I believe this is a crisis of modern existence. The devil is always quick to launch torpedoes when we feel the least able to defend ourselves, and this is why we need to sail with others, a fleet of believers able to help tow those whose spiritual and mental power is temporarily disabled. Such a fleet is able to read the sonar pings of those sailing with them. “Amanda has updated her status: I need prayers,” pings out to others in her fleet, and they begin to circle the ships reading her distress. This is what the Church is about: We are not individuals designed to traverse the seas of life alone; we are a community, a fleet, designed for war against evil and to be a safe harbor for those in need. Pings of distress should never drift off into oblivion without an answer; in fact, caring replies have drawn others from the abyss, back to calm water.
As I continue to sail dark waters, I am thankful for those who refuse to let me steam off under my own power. Despite temporary desolation, I am grateful for my wife, friends, and the sacraments of the Church. All of them continue to assure me that the anchor of hope will soon find another safe harbor.
Ping….
