The luxury of choices

Like most pastors, I’m preoccupied with the possibilities of in-person worship these days. Many of my colleagues are already leading these gatherings, most of them outdoors. With the continued low numbers of positivity in Baltimore County, I’m hopeful that Ascension will offer an opportunity for folks to worship together live and in-person very soon.

While I’ve stressed over the whens and hows of gathering for worship, I’ve come to realize how inconsequential this is compared to the decisions facing so many other people right now. Our congregation can decide whether we will worship together in person. Individuals within the congregation can choose to participate or not. It’s an optional activity and those who are uncomfortable, or at risk, can still worship with us online from home, which will remain our primary weekly worship gathering. But what about the people who don’t have the luxury of making such choices?

My son, Ben, waits on tables in Pittsburgh. When all the restaurants shut down, he went home. Then they reopened before they were ready because... I’m not sure why, but lots of other places were doing the same. Ben returned to work because he didn’t have a choice. Not if he wanted to eat and sleep with a roof over his head.

He told me about that first day back when he waited on an older woman who announced how happy she was to see him working again. He felt like he was being sacrificed. Now, you need to know that Ben is an activist who is thriving in these days of protesting. He would sacrifice his life for the sake of justice, no question. But so someone out for a good time can have a pulled pork sandwich? Not so much.

After a few weeks, the bartender at Ben’s restaurant came down with COVID-19. So, they closed. Every person who worked in the restaurant had been exposed. Ben had to wait over a week to be tested; now he awaits results. And he waits to see if the restaurant will reopen. If they do, he feels forced to return. He's trapped, and he resents it.  

Ben’s experience opened my eyes to all the people around me who don’t have the choices I have about the risks I’m willing to take right now. There are so many other people like him, many of them in low paying jobs, who are trapped. If they want to live, they’re forced into employment that puts them at risk... And I go about my business, barely noticing these people, yet benefiting from their sacrifice.

These days, schools are figuring out how to reopen in the fall. I think about my daughter, who teaches in NYC, and my grandson who will enter first grade. Not to mention the rest of the family, which includes a toddler destined to return to daycare and my son-in-law, who will one day return to the restaurant where he works. Since mid-March, I have slept at night, knowing they are safe. And now that’s about to change.

There are no easy solutions to the school dilemma. Difficult choices must be made. But how many teachers and staff will be in the position of having a choice? How many will be trapped in a situation fraught with risks?

I can’t get past the fact that now we’re talking about children. Of all people, children don’t have the opportunity to choose. They trust adults to make the best decisions for them, to keep them safe. I pray that we are worthy of their trust.

Not One of My Finer Moments

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” I pushed my arms out in front of me with palms in stop! position toward the offender.

The young man didn’t budge, and I was using my outside voice now. “Back off! We have a virus thing going on!” 

Refusing to move, he said, “I know, that’s why I’m wearing a mask.”

“And you’re supposed to distance. Six feet!” I pointed to the large dots marking the floor where we’re supposed to stand. “Six feet!!”

He stood his ground, saying, “I thought you were done."

Did it look like I was done? I was paying for my order. I had not moved on. This was still my space, dammit!

I grabbed my food and headed for the door. As I did, the guy called out, “Talk about an attitude!”  

Seriously? I was the one with the attitude?! Nope. I was not about to let him have the last word. Right before I opened the door to leave, I turned my head and yelled back, “Tell me about it!” Curtain.  It was quite a performance for everyone in the restaurant.

Now, you need to know that I don’t do stuff like that. I will avoid making a scene in a public place at all costs. But not this day. I had had it. I had kept myself sealed off from the world for months. Now that restaurants were open (outdoors and carry-out), I decided to venture out, figuring all safety precautions were in place. But I learned that only works if the patrons follow the rules, and this place was on an honor system. No one in the establishment was insisting they follow the rules. And that’s where it all broke down for me. I would love to get out more, but will only do so in a controlled environment where I don’t have to trust other people to do the right thing if they’re given a choice. Because too many people are untrustworthy.

Even so, I know that I was on my last nerve that day. (This is the part where I whine a little.) I had been having an issue with my foot and was using a walker to get around earlier in the week. It was better, so I figured I could tough it out for an inurnment I had at the church that day. Typically, these only take ten minutes, tops.

It was a hot, humid day to be standing in the sun wearing my pastor garb with the stiff white collar. As I gathered with the family in the columbarium, I just wanted to get it over with so I could return to my air-conditioned home, slip into my shorts and t-shirt. and ice my foot, which was beginning to throb.

“Who has the ashes?” I asked. They all looked at one another and suddenly realized that was a detail they had neglected. No doubt losing a family member during the coronavirus is devastating, so maybe that’s why no one picked up the cremains, I don’t know. But someone had to drive to the funeral home to get them before we could proceed. I hobbled to a shady place and put my foot up on a bench while we waited.

After the inurnment, I had a meeting with our sound-master at the church to test out equipment for worshiping outdoors when the time comes. I walked around a bit, telling him how well I could or couldn’t hear from various locations in the church yard, and then I couldn’t take it anymore. I excused myself and drove home.

By then it was late in the afternoon, and I hadn't had lunch, so I decided to stop at one of my favorite places to pick up something healthy to eat. I stepped out of the car and winced from the pain in my foot but realized I would soon be home, and I could handle the pain for just a little while longer. As I approached the restaurant, I noticed they had outdoor seating at café tables that completely blocked the entrance. There was no way I could get in without coming within inches of the people who were at the tables, of course without masks because they were eating. I tried not to think about it too hard and made my way through the door.

Not many people were inside the restaurant picking up food; I was relieved. It’s one of those places where you walk through the line while those behind the counter make your salad as you go. Big dots were clearly marked on the floor indicating how far to stand apart. The woman before me went to pay for her food, and I waited on my dot until she was finished. Then it was my turn. 

And the young man behind me did not mind his dot!

The rest of the story, you know. Would I have made a scene under normal circumstances? Of course, it’s a silly question to ask. What normal circumstances would those be these days?

All that being said, I was totally embarrassed by my behavior. I could have handled it so much better. For one thing, I could have asked the young man calmly, “If you wouldn’t mind backing up, please, I would appreciate it as an act of kindness.” Yeah, I could have said something like that. Yeah. But that’s not really true. In that moment, I could not have said something like that. So there you have it.

After I exited the scene of my dramatic outburst, I slid into the driver’s seat of my car and cried angry tears. I was rattled by the whole ordeal. Those feelings were soon overshadowed when I caught a glimpse of myself in the rear-view mirror. I saw a woman wearing a clergy collar. As did everyone in the restaurant where I blew my cool.

Definitely, not one of my finer moments.