Every morning when I walk, I see the signs that remind me: We are surrounded by a great cloud of caregivers, too often invisible to us, though our well-being and that of our loved ones and communities is dependent upon their work and their commitment to their mission. When COVID-19 swelled to pandemic proportions this winter, most of us locked down to protect ourselves, but nurses, techs, chaplains, doctors and support staff remained at their posts without adequate personal protective equipment or knowledge of the scope of the virus, still serving the sick and the infected, knowing as they did that they were putting themselves and their families at risk. All paid a high cost, and some gave their lives. In nursing homes and elder adult living facilities, and with hospice and in-home care workers, the warning signs that kept everyone else at a safe distance did not prevent these caregivers from attending to the frail and vulnerable. Many of these essential workers could not have stayed home if they wanted to; as part of the nation’s vast informal economy, their ability to feed and house their families depended on the ability to show up, even when it meant risking infection. Many in this gig economy of caregivers themselves lack access to consistent health care … and still, they show up.
For decades, children whose clothing has caught fire have been taught by teachers and firefighters alike to stop, drop and roll.
Church educators faced with the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic are employing a similar strategy, the nearly 50 participants in the “Faith Formation at Home” webinar, sponsored by the Office of Christian Formation, heard recently.
When the Rev. Dr. Rodney S. Sadler Jr. thinks of biblical accounts describing God’s community, the multitude from every nation as described in Revelation 7 springs to his mind, the “diverse panorama of people before the throne of God,” as he told the Presbyterian Foundation’s Rev. Dr. Lee Hinson-Hasty during a recent Facebook Live event, “What Does the Lord Require in Uprising?”
Many individuals and churches have answered the call to make cloth masks to address the shortage of personal protective equipment for frontline medical professionals.
But a Presbyterian pastor in northern New Jersey, a COVID-19 hotspot early in the pandemic, had another idea.
Thus says the Lord: Heaven is my throne and the earth is my footstool; what is the house that you would build for me, and what is my resting place? All these things my hand has made, and so all these things are mine … (Isaiah 66:1–2a).
Even though they were recorded months ago, the preaching that was part of the recent Festival of Homiletics touched on topics at the heart of recent days of protests, injustice and anguish.
The COVID-19 pandemic has taken a tremendous toll on communities of color across the country. And while Black and brown people are adversely affected in times of health and economic crisis because of decades of systemic racism and poverty, they remain resilient in their ability to forge ahead despite structural obstacles.
Throughout these times of quarantine, I have found myself singing more — children’s English and Spanish songs with our 2-year-old son, Leandro. These are songs I remember from high school and university choir, hymns, my mom’s songs or just humming random tunes. If I’m honest, my singing is not always an expression of joy. As I write this, we are on Day 71 (May 25) of strict quarantine in Peru, and we are permitted to leave our home only for groceries, bank transactions and medical needs. Our curfew, complete Sunday lockdown and closed international borders also are still in effect.
I never understood the gravity of the words “Thank you for your service” until I began serving as a chaplain at a VA Medical Center about nine years ago. I could never have imagined that God would call me to ministry at the VA. Although several of my family members were/are veterans, their military service was not a big part of our family narrative or my frame of reference. I had generally aligned with a pacifist stance. In fact, I can remember crying as a 9-year-old when Operation Desert Storm formally began. I had not experienced our country being at war before and remember feelings of insecurity, grief and yearning for peace — feelings that I have felt many more times since then as conflicts and wars continue across the globe and our world has not yet fully experienced the peace of God’s reign.
This past spring, Joel Winchip, executive director of Presbyterian Church Camp & Conference Association (PCCCA), wasn’t sure what camps would be able to do about offering summer programming.
