Like nearly every organization in the world, the COVID pandemic forced the Congo Mission Network to adapt when it came time to hold their annual mission conference, but they didn’t just adapt, they grew and will likely never go back to the old way of doing things.
Many people of faith have stopped asking big, unanswerable “why” questions. Questions like, “If God loves us and God is all powerful, why is there so much pain and suffering in the world?”
A couple years ago, at our family Thanksgiving gathering at my sister’s house in Virginia, I brought a variety of blank notecards, envelopes and stamps.
I asked each person in the family — young and old — to write a note to themselves and to include anything they wanted: joys and concerns, thoughts about our get-together, goals for the year ahead — anything at all. I explained that I would keep the notes for a year before dropping them in the mail. “It will be a surprise when you receive your note back,” I said. “You’ll recognize the handwriting and remember you wrote the note to yourself last Thanksgiving.”
As the Rev. Crawford Brubaker began working on what would be his new book, “Alas! A Lament for the United States of America,” he remembers tossing page after page of paper into the garbage.
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.
Swiss Reformer Ulrich Zwingli ministered at the time of the bubonic plague, and his teachings have great relevance during this modern time of pandemic.
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.
