COVID19: March 14, 2020 - Weird Week

This has been such a weird week that I’m feeling a need to write some stuff down. Partly, because pert near everything is changing so quickly that I need to keep it all straight in my mind, and partly so I can process it. In other words, I need to write this down so my brain doesn’t explode. 

We’re living through a global pandemic that is unlike anything most of us have ever known. The information coming at us changes by the hour, and it’s hard to know how to respond. Before last Sunday (March 8), I had spent most of the week fretting over how we would protect people in worship. I felt good about all the precautionary measures we took last Sunday, from no hand-to-hand contact to teaching the congregation to pass the peace using American Sign Language. We went from intinction (dipping bread in cup) for communion to using individual glasses with servers wearing gloves.

I had written a plan that took me days to research, write and re-write, until it was ready to publicly share with the congregation. We were prepared last Sunday, and then we were prepared for this Sunday, as we planned to take even more drastic precautions to keep the congregation safe.

On Thursday morning (Or was it Wednesday? I have no idea. This is why I need to write things down.), I got into some heated Facebook exchanges with colleagues about the practice of common cup for communion and had an extended conversation about it with my bishop, who called me on the phone. (For the record, common cup isn’t a big deal to me one way or the other, but during this covid19 outbreak, I strongly feel it should be discontinued.)

As the day wore on, I was starting to wonder if we should gather for worship at all. I heard other pastors questioning it and thought, we’ll probably be missing face-to-face worship for a while, and I’d like to have one more Sunday together before pulling the plug. But then I started to think about the people who would come because it’s just what they do, even though they’re at risk and need to stay home until this thing passes.

For the first time, it occurred to me that I actually have several risk factors myself, and it’s possible that I could get COVID19. Then I realized that if I weren’t the pastor, on Sunday morning I would stay home. When I shared this with our Minister of Music, she admitted that she probably would too. So, I began wondering, why are we doing this? Why are we putting people at risk?

One of my most unfavorite-est things to do as a pastor is make a call about whether or not to have worship when the weather is iffy. I can't tell you how much I hate being involved in making that call. But this was so much more than that. I couldn't sleep, was stuffing a ton of sugar into my face, and spent a lot of time pacing. The stress was making me bonkers. 

None of this mattered by Thursday evening. Our synod bishop sent a helpful letter to us about how to respond to COVID19. And then our governor came on TV with talk of a “state of emergency” and calling in the National Guard. I heard loud buzzing in my brain like apace aliens were trying to make contact, and I had trouble understanding the words he was saying. Then, it went from worse to worser. A woman stepped to the podium and told us that all public schools in the state of Maryland were closing. I felt my heart stop. What was happening? Was I watching some twisted end-of-they-world movie or was this for real? 

Something shifted in my thinking at that moment. I had been worried about the older people who worshiped with us (and even myself). I was thinking about how we could best protect them from getting sick. And I suddenly realized that we had a responsibility beyond the members of our own church. It wasn’t just about not us; it was much larger than that. It was about slowing the spread of the illness for everyone.

I’ve looked at more graphs lately than I did when I was taking algebra in my school days. Fortunately, these are a lot easier for me to understand (no xes and ys). They explain how the disease spreads. The whole idea of flattening the curve so we can care for the sick within the capacity of our hospitals and medical personnel makes complete sense to me. Of course, there is only one thing for our church to do—suspend worship gatherings for the next couple of weeks. Maybe longer. 

And that meant another pastoral letter to the congregation explaining our decision and how we're planning to respond. Part of that response involves a Sunday morning worship experience on the internet. We’ll be using Facebook live and I’ll broadcast from my dining room table. One of our members, Loretta, is going to be my wing-woman (remotely) and drop stuff in the comments as we go along. Vicar Cassie will be bringing us the sermon from her dining room table. None of us have done this before. There are all kinds of glitches that will probably occur, and I’m resigned to the fact that this is going to be far from perfect. But we’ll be able to connect with one another for a while, and even include those who are unable to be with us on a typical Sunday in a way we hadn’t been able to before. (Yet one other way COVID19 is an equalizer.)

I’m feeling better. There are still a lot of unknowns, but I’m encouraged by the way people are pulling together. Despite the fact that I read David Brooks’ opinion piece in the New York Times this week, where he discusses how people have turned into monsters whenever something like this has happened in the past, I’m hoping and praying that this time will be different.