A friend commented that there were whole conversations going on--debates, even-- about whether churches should have held services (or not) this past weekend.
Incidentally, a recent New York Times article read, "The vulnerable and the risk-averse are finding themselves the rare mask-wearers on public transportation, in places of worship, and in offices and stores".
See? There are very real factors beyond dedication to one's place of worship, that are often ignored.
Three years in, and people still won't do right; still won't do the least thing to make a difference. People are still ridiculing and questioning others for wearing masks in public, enclosed spaces. That's why we can't have nice things. The indifference and selfishness that many encounter, are at least two reasons why they just limit their interactions, or stay at home.
Even in what should be the most caring, considerate place--a church--people still think there's something weak, faithless, and inconvenient about wearing a mask, and will bust right up in your face. They'll cough all willy-nilly, expect you to hold endless conversations, shake hands, hug, and then get downright offended if you shoot them an elbow or fist to bump.
There's a lingering, legitimate concern that medical professionals, the immuno-compromised, parents of small children, and those whose families have been devastated by covid, are simply tired of debating and defending. To save themselves the aggravation, they're just not showing up, or they take advantage of virtual presentations.
Last week, it seemed the whole of the United States was abandoned by the Sun. It was up there shining alright, but it was definitely holding back on the heat. Some folk argued that if you really loved Jesus; if you were really a soldier in the army of the Lord, you'd prove it, go outside, and see what it was like to be a human icicle.
I'm sorry, but there are things that even the Creator (who knows what happens to human skin in sub-freezing temperatures), doesn't require.
I grew up in a home where church attendance was not optional. It's just what we did (even after house parties on Friday and Saturday nights). I can kind of pinpoint when relationship eclipsed religion, and the parties ended. I remember when the Bible went from coffee table decorating, complicated, adventurous, sometimes scary, Shakespearean literature, to the Living Word that you actually enjoyed studying--and it was even okay to write in the margins of the pages. The Bible is a whole adventure tale, full of suspense, intrigue, terror, romance, poetry, drama, and laughter. I remember when church was where you were eager to be, because there was a story you hadn't dissected like the preacher or Sunday school teacher could. It was where you discovered any gifts or talent you had. I don't recall weather being a deterrent. If you didn't go, you were either bedridden, or had the chicken pox.
I still believe in the importance and value of faith. I think community is vital. The "services" are something to behold. The music is glorious. The lessons--in capable, anointed hands-- are life-changing. What I'm weary about is the competition and manipulation (in the name of Jesus) that threatens to snatch the cheerfulness and freedom away, and reinstate drudgery and necessity. How a thing is represented really does go a long way. The message that filling bigger barns, celebrity, and the show are more important than the health and well-being of the people, isn't a favorable one.
I suggested to my friend that pastors know their people--or at least they should. They know the states of their facilities, too. They're aware how much, in manpower and finances it takes to open and run them--particularly when temperatures plummet. Those lights and cameras won't pay for themselves.
As much as we don't like to talk about it, we're still in a pandemic. The Flu, and yet another variant (What alphabet are we up to now?) decided to join the ongoing covid party. There's a viral threesome going on that's overwhelming hospitals nationwide. There are a lot of vulnerable people counting on us all to be more aware and conscientious. Last year, it was the elderly. This year it's the children. It's a mess out there. Ask a nurse.
There are reasons many people are staying put, and no guilt trip is going to sway them. If you want to lose them altogether, take away what does keep them connected and engaged. Continue demanding things of them that are simply not feasible. Continue being snarky and taking cheap shots at people for whom the pandemic has been a nightmare. How's that working for ya? Is it filling any seats?
I don't know about anyone else's vehicle, but Saturday morning, when I pulled on the door handle, all I sensed from the perimeter of the door, was a reluctance to free itself from the ice that had accumulated. After some gentle tugging, I got inside and put the key in the ignition. My car copped a sluggish little attitude. It might as well have whined, "No. I don't want to. Why are you bothering me?". It was either trying to decide if it felt like turning over, or addressing how crazy it thought I was for leaving the warmth of my bed to see what 16 degrees felt like. My car started, eventually, and I let it run for a while until I saw a needle move.
I had a full tank of gas (because I rarely go anywhere, and my late father taught me to keep that tank full in winter). I was wrapped up like Nanook of the North, but how many people weren't so fortunate? How many people lacked what I consider basic necessities that would have enabled them to safely venture out? (I don't think I'd ever been more grateful for my gloves and goofy, ugg-like boots.) How many were dealing with power outages, burst pipes, financial woes, bereavement, caregiving, lack of adequate clothing, or sickness?
I wish the suggestion--no--accusation that people are just being lazy, backsliding, indifferent, unfaithful, heathens wasn't a thing, but my social media feed has been full of it throughout the pandemic. Even at the height of it, people were daily berating others for going to the grocery store, but skipping in-person church services. The judgment wasn't exactly inviting, encouraging, or based in fact. A lot of it came from those whose livelihoods were church-related. As repetitive as it was, it didn't motivate the cautious to do anything differently. (When has beating people over the head ever worked?)
It's not new, but people are making tough decisions for themselves and their families. They're juggling and re-ordering priorities and resources. So many formerly healthy people are dealing with Long Covid. For some people, going out this past weekend would have been tantamount to asking for a bout of pneumonia.
We always say "You never know what people are going through", yet we can be arrogantly heavy-handed and insensitive sometimes. By resurrecting pre-covid expectations and demands, could it be that we're chasing people away from the places they used to frequent? Could it be that even when the Sun does decide to do both of the groovy things it does best, and Miss 'Rona and her cousins finally make an exit, people still won't show up?
Our declarations of what others should be able to do, are often projections and assumptions. Deciding that people don't love God because they aren't where you are? That's kinda silly and presumptuous isn't it?
(Incidentally, I don't remember reading if the thief on the cross was ever a church-goer, or attended a Christmas service, and he actually knew who Jesus was, and talked to him face to bloody face.)
Every day, Facebook looks like an obituary column. If the past few years have taught us anything, it's to extend a little mercy and grace to others. I've heard too many stories about people infecting their families because they let their guards down without considering the consequences. Those are the times when the arrogant and bold get awfully quiet.
A lot of folks are itching to get back to a lot of things, but how normal, necessary, wise, or helpful were they? Is it business, or just a lot of busyness? What's the point? Where's the gratitude for still being alive to be, or go anywhere? Are we just back to being religiously mean-spirited? Moreover, how many made provisions for others to get to where they expected, or wanted them to be this past weekend? Did anybody offer anyone else a ride?
Do we do things just to have bragging rights, and make ourselves appear more spiritual than the next person, or because there's an actual purpose--beyond being seen, heard, enriched, or in control of others? Words matter. Motives matter.
According to the local news, due to the weekend weather, many people lost their lives. Where were some of them trying to get to?
I joked with my friend that some people may have left their cozy homes just to get away from the people they live with, or their expected (or unexpected) visitors. The hour or so of peace for them, alone, was probably worth a potential case of frostbite. In hindsight, maybe it wasn't a joke.
While we're busy performing for others, and vying to be the most faithful in the kingdom, what does God see and know that we should care more about? Is he pleased with our offerings and noise? Do we consider whether He thinks we're wreckin', hittin', slammin', walking hard, talking good, tearing it up, or killin'? Is He having a good time? Is He being served? Are we really the examples He wants us to be? Did we miss God, at the peak of the pandemic, or ourselves?
Many were so proud of themselves for showing up this past weekend, and didn't waste time letting it be known, but did God really care that they thawed out on a pew? Did their weekend shivering add more stars to their future crowns, or more Kleenex for their presently runny noses?
CHURCH FOLK
Look at us!
We pressed our way
We all darn-near froze today
Up 'fore Crack of Dawn to say
We love God more than you!
We assume you spent your week
Shopping, chilling, fast asleep
Or spending time with family—
Stuff heathens like to do
While we, the pious, forfeit rest
Get up; put on our Sunday best
So we can pass the litmus test
Of who’s more saved than who
We’re like the mailman, this brisk day
Neither snow, nor sleet, nor rain
Will keep us from our public praise
You won’t hear us complain
But we will make a mockery
Of your choice not to freeze, nor sneeze
Nor risk deadly, airborne disease
We think you should explain
Oh, sure!
Many worldwide have died
Of course the virus multiplied
But it’s all over now!
Don’t you see?
We must get back
To putting on our shows that lack
Even a trace of power
We need you to revert to spending
Resources and time in empty
Clubs of worship— unrelenting
Hour after hour
If you can go there, surely you
Can come here, and do what we do
Yes, we’ve been keeping tabs!
We’ve seen you at the grocery store
The mall, in restaurants-- what’s more
We’re at the one place you ignore
Your soul is up for grabs!
We don’t consider our assumption
Brimming with judgment and gumption
Has opposite effect
We think the more we instigate,
Pick, and prod, manipulate
You’ll all come back—see things our way
Get religion in check
It seems you’ve had some time to seize
Meaningful opportunities
You’ve altered your philosophies
Of what it means to "serve"
It seems you’ve been clothing the poor
Feeding the sick; knocking on doors
Checking on people, suffering more
Now than they ever were
Yes. Our senses are quite dull
We need the dress-up spectacle
(Habits are hard to break)
We’ve learned little, these past few years
Tradition seems to fuel our fears
That God will hate us— disappear
If we don’t congregate
Just look at us!
We’re more faithful!
So much more committed; grateful
(Windchill’s plummeting and hateful)
We deserve a prize!
Chests puffed out, and feeling proud
We say the quiet part out loud
This thing won’t work without a crowd
Don’t you realize?
So look at us, braving The Hawk
Sorry, don’t have time to talk!
Got to get inside
Must ignore the homeless; hungry
We pass while competing; rushing
To be seen; counted among the
Truly sanctified.
VRWc2022
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