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.