Every year on Palm Sunday we hear the entire Passion narrative from whichever of the Synoptic Gospels is our guide for the year. (This year it's Matthew.) Considering the world situation, it was quite fitting that what we did not hear yesterday was the "prequel" Gospel of the procession and the Hosannas. No. We went straight into the Last Supper, Gethsemane, and Golgotha. We went from "This is my body" to "Why have you abandoned me?" And so many today are dying physically separated from loved ones who would give anything to be at their side. It is necessary, but they must feel so abandoned. Only Jesus knows.

Here in Boston and in other coronavirus "hot spots" we don't have to wait until Good Friday to meditate on the death of Jesus—or on our own death. My community faced an unexpected funeral just last week when our Sister Mary Bernadette, who had been declining over the last several years, slipped away from us in her sleep. We are still virus-free on our hill here on the edge of the city; it was just the Lord calling his servant home to rest after over sixty years in the mission-field (including two stints in Alaska). We had a private funeral for her. Her brother, who lives quite close, had to wait at the burial chapel; he and his wife were the only ones at the actual committal, while the community stood outside, each of us about six feet from the other. (Even though we live together, we are trying to maintain some kind of social distancing.) This death had taken us by surprise: the nurses had checked on Sister at 4:00 in the morning, and when they went to assist her with the morning routine an hour and a half later, the Master had taken her "like a thief in the night."

In our hospitals, we are hearing that medical staff can barely keep up. Most people who get the virus do not need a full complement of medical interventions, but for the percentages that do, the need seems to arise all of a sudden, "like a thief in the night." And we have all heard the worries that there will not be enough life-support equipment, specifically ventilators and ECMO machines, when the peak hits New York and New England (and New Orleans?) sometime over the next two weeks.

We may not be given to wonder if we will be among those lying on a gurney, struggling to breathe, with none of our loved ones able to stay at our side. But during Holy Week, especially during this Holy Week, we are given a double opportunity: to accompany, in prayer, those who find themselves alone in their suffering (whether the suffering of illness or the suffering of isolation in social distancing) and to consider, in prayer, "the hour of our death," however it should come. This new coronavirus reaches a virulent stage in a sudden manner. Is your will up-to-date? Do you have a health care proxy to speak in your name when life-saving decisions have to be made and your are unable to communicate? Are there promises or moral obligations or even informal understandings that you have not fulfilled? At least put these in writings so that if you come through this ordeal, you do so with the firm intention of carrying out your responsibilities, and if you do not survive in this life, those who honor your wishes can see them through. Include in this document as well your wishes to have a Catholic funeral and burial, and to have Masses offered for the repose of your soul.

Above all, in an attitude of prayer and in the light of your age, your overall state of health, your family obligations and the commitments you have in society, consider the words we say in the Creed: "I look forward to the resurrection of the dead."

God "is not the God of the dead but of the living; all are alive for him" (Luke 20:38). There are people who are already specifying in their hospital admittance papers that they are willing to forego "extraordinary means" of equipment that may be hard to come by, in order that it can be used to save someone else's life. This is a form of giving your life for another: a martyrdom of charity. It would be a very good way to meet God. If, before God, you find that you have the inner freedom to do the same thing, tell your family and put it in writing on a form for your healthcare proxy. (Here is a sample form according to Massachusetts law appointing a healthcare proxy; it specifies Catholic values for life sustaining measures, and has room for also adding personal wishes.)

Some other resources for you (for ideas); these are adapted from material I prepared for myself. In the first part of "Pastoral Care for Me" I specified what kind of music I do (and do not) like and other practical suggestions:

• Pastoral Care for Me Texts (my favorite psalms, so if people are able to be near me, they can pray these in a gentle voice and I can follow along as I am able).
• Pastoral Care-final: This has the text for the Commendation of the Dying (Saints of God, come to her aid!) and the Apostolic Blessing (which the priest offers the dying in the name of the Church).