Recently, the Director of Christian Education at our church asked if I would be willing to write an article for our newsletter, conveying my thoughts on what I have experienced and learned from the current pandemic. I’ve got an opinion about most things, so I told her I’d be happy to.
I began giving this some thought, trying to wrap my head around what I have actually learned over the past few months. It would need to be something more profound than realizing you need to wash your hands for twenty seconds in order for it to be effective, or that proper technique is to cough and sneeze into your elbow (a boon for dry-cleaners), or that there is a right and a wrong way to wear an N-95 mask. Yes, I learned that fact. A few weeks ago, I was given a new mask to wear—the type that is held in place by attaching to your ears. Well, with this particular mask, the thin metal strip that molds over your nose is barely noticeable. I spent the first few hours wearing it upside down, wondering why my glasses relentlessly fogged. Finally, a benevolent nurse quietly pointed out my error, and I corrected my mistake. My glasses still fog, so that’s one thing I haven’t yet learned to prevent.
Not very exciting stuff, and I was still struggling with what I needed to write about—until last evening at our session meeting. One of our elders had the devotional, and he read a passage from one of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s books. If you’re not familiar with him, Bonhoeffer was a remarkable man. Born in Germany, he studied in the United States, then returned to Germany in 1931, just a few years before Hitler began his rise to power. He was a minister, and he spoke out early against the Nazis. Dangerous times and a perilous thing to do. Yet he stood firmly for his faith and for the oppressed. Three weeks before the collapse of Germany, Hitler ordered his murder. Bonhoeffer understood the reality of persecution and at the end of his life, the crushing weight of loneliness.
In the passage the elder shared with us, Bonhoeffer was pointing out the importance of Christian fellowship—the vital need for gathering together and worshipping our Lord—seeing each other’s faces. That was proving to be impossible in Nazi Germany, and the loss of that contact was deeply felt by Bonhoeffer and his friends and fellow believers. He stressed the importance of never taking these opportunities for granted and consciously cherishing the times that we have together. He well knew that it could all change.
We’ve experienced that in our own congregation, and if you attend church, you’ve probably done the same. It’s been too many Sundays that we’ve spent apart, though thankfully able to “virtually” worship together through the technology of YouTube or gathering in our cars and trucks in the church parking lot. This Sunday will mark a turning point, allowing us once again to gather together (socially distanced!) and to worship as one body. It is something we should always cherish.
If you don’t attend church, you’ve experienced the same separateness, the same lack of being in the presence of others.
The natural extension of this line of thinking will lead us to our relationships with friends and family. Before the coronavirus, didn’t we take for granted the ability to meet whenever we wanted with those closest to us? Maybe a drive of a few minutes, or a few hours, but spending time with each other was never an issue of opportunity—only of intention. All that changed with the “lock-down.” Even with the best of intentions, we no longer had the opportunity. It happened quickly, and it can happen again. We need to always remember this pandemic and the harsh lessons it has taught us. And we need to always cherish the times we have together and seek them out.
So, to my Director of Christian Education, I guess I have learned something from the coronavirus—something I hope to long remember. And if you ever see me wearing a mask and notice that it’s upside down, please don’t say anything.
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