COVID Fatigue...

We're all tired of COVID. At the risk of complaining about our discomfort at a time when many are still endangered by the Coronavirus, and some have succumbed to it, we must acknowledge the fact that we are suffering from "COVID fatigue." And while this isn't as life-threatening as the actual disease can be, it does drag down the morale of an entire nation--or world--and cause us to be far, far less than our best.

It can also tear us apart. We have blamed partisan politics for the mess this most recent election was, but I wonder how much of a role COVID played? Some suggest that we have a new President because of the failure of the old one to conquer COVID, despite launching a valiant effort to create a vaccine against it in record time. One wonders if the weariness of that discovery had some part in the lack of energy expended by the former administration at "administering" the vaccine and enforcing life-saving restrictions on the populace. Maybe it's time we acknowledge that the division, anger, and malaise we are experiencing may have, at least in part, their center in a global pandemic.

I'm not suggesting we forget our differences in political philosophies, nor should we disregard the disruptive--and sometimes destructive--behavior the former ruling party exhibited after the election. But we have had these differences before, and without such vitriol and insurrectionist activity. Could it be that "COVID fatigue" goes way beyond just how we individually feel? Perhaps it has affected us en masse, like some kind of a weird alien force written as a plot theme in a Star Trek episode? The pandemic certainly plays out a science fiction narrative when we admit it has taken us "where no one has gone before" (at least in our generation).

So, what do we do about it, if true? First of all, we should pray for the current administration, and cooperate to get the pandemic under control. We all should drop resistance to the medical cautionary means of safety--social distancing, mask-wearing, hand-washing, and staying home as much as possible. Yes, the "fatigue" has caused many of us to strike out against these precautions, even to do foolish things like visiting bars and restaurants, holding parties, and traveling to places with extremely high COVID numbers just because we "need to get away." But if we are going to beat this thing, we need to get "back on that horse" and do the responsible thing, ASAP. 

Secondly, we should all plan to get the vaccine as soon as it is available. Listen to the science. I have had discussions with persons who say they don't want to get the vaccine because of how fast it was created. Trials were advanced quickly, but the best medical minds have assured us of the safety of it, and given that the trials have occurred over some time, and were there adverse side-effects, they would have emerged by now. The vaccines thus far approved are safe, and effective--again, according to the best medical minds. These are people much, much smarter than any of us, and they have received the vaccine as a sign of their own trust in its efficacy. Widespread vaccination is the only "ultimate" way to get this pandemic under control. Other means which some advocate--such as letting the Coronavirus go unchecked until "herd immunity" is achieved--will result in much suffering, and most likely death for many. Using this method is the height of selfishness, especially if driven by individual fears and "rights."

What is the role of our Christian spirituality in all of this? As mentioned earlier, prayer is an important factor. Beyond this, our Christian teachings call us away from these individual fears and personal "rights" toward doing what is best for the common good. Masks, social-distancing, avoiding unnecessary assembly, and getting vaccines are the "Christian" things to do! Also, we may call upon our spiritual disciplines to give us strength and comfort to get through it, along with our families, and to draw on our "better angels" to think about others and how they may be impacted by our negative actions. Love in action is the best spiritual "vaccine" for what is tearing us apart right now.

[ASIDE: As I was writing this, I happened across the ending of the old film, "Oh God!" with the late superstars, George Burns and John Denver. For those too young to have seen the movie, God appears as an old man in a fishing hat and flannel shirt (Burns) with the message that God cares for all of us, and that we should care for each other. Denver plays "Jerry," who, like a modern prophet, is called by God to deliver this message. We should all hear this message today, in the midst of this pandemic. God does care about all of us, and we should care for each other!  God has this word for Jerry toward the end of the film: "I gave a message of encouragement, you passed it, and now we'll see!"]

One more thing: We should stop trying to crucify one another over the political differences. Right now, the way they are ginned up may be a symptom of COVID-19. That reminds me of another Star Trek episode...maybe later. 

May today be a day of peace for you and your family. And may it be one more day toward an end to this awful pandemic for all of us. Shalom.

That One Solitary Life...

 

Christmas 2020 was one for the books--the history books--pretty much like the rest of the year. Will anyone cry if the door hits 2020 in the backside on its way out? Usually we celebrate the New Year with the ball drop in Time Square. There were enough balls dropped in 2020 that I don't care to see another one, though.

I want to say a good word about Christmas this year, even in its "stunted" form, due to COVID-19. There is a poem attributed to author James Allen Francis that goes like this:

One Solitary Life

He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant. He grew up in another village, where he worked in a carpenter shop until he was 30. Then, for three years, he was an itinerant preacher.

He never wrote a book. He never held an office. He never had a family or owned a home. He didn't go to college. He never lived in a big city. He never traveled 200 miles from the place where he was born. He did none of the things that usually accompany greatness. He had no credentials but himself.

He was only 33 when the tide of public opinion turned against him. His friends ran away. One of them denied him. He was turned over to his enemies and went through the mockery of a trial. He was nailed to a cross between two thieves. While he was dying, his executioners gambled for his garments, the only property he had on earth. When he was dead, he was laid in a borrowed grave, through the pity of a friend.

Twenty centuries have come and gone, and today he is the central figure of the human race. I am well within the mark when I say that all the armies that ever marched, all the navies that ever sailed, all the parliaments that ever sat, all the kings that ever reigned--put together--have not affected the life of man on this earth as much as that one, solitary life.

The object of the Christmas celebration was a little like that "Charlie Brown" Christmas Tree pictured above, as this poem reminds us. Even Isaiah 53 doesn't paint a pretty picture of the "suffering servant" we see in Jesus Christ. And yet, here we are--the reconciled, redeemed, empowered People of God--because of this one "solitary" life. I'm guessing that when we first run into Jesus in Glory we may just pass him by, because he won't stand out, and I'm also guessing that his being "seated at the right hand of God" will look a lot more like a child lovingly seated beside a doting parent. The great, great power of heaven is almost always understated. Burning bushes, pillars of clouds, sneaky angels, and a Jesus who heals a blind man by making mud with his spit and slathering it into the man's eye sockets--not exactly Hollywood stuff, at least until Cecil B. DeMille got ahold of some of it. 

Maybe Christmas 2020 was a most fitting one to pay homage to the founder of Christianity? I know that around St. Paul's, as I take stock of the things we did to "rescue" Christmas of the "Grinch" that was COVID-19, I begin to smile! "Light Up Night," a video "Christmas Eve Service" that touched so many hearts and showcased the great gifts of God's people, a parking lot service on Christmas Eve with incredible music, honking horns, and a message of hope--these all certainly paid homage to a God born in a stable. In fact, as I sat in the "preachers' tent" during the parking lot service, with two soggy feet, cold to the bone, icy rain drip, drip, dripping onto the top of my head, and with wind whipping all around, all I could think of what it must have been like on that night so long ago on a Bethlehem hillside when that "one solitary life" entered our world. I could almost hear the voice of Jesus say to me in that blustery tent on December 24 of 2020, "My friend, this is the closest you have ever been to Christmas!" And to top it off, Pastor Karen used wonderful "food pictures" in her sermon that night, making us all so hungry that Dara and I went home and raided the 'fridge for a hearty snack! As we warmed up in the comfort of our own home, we watched the St. Paul's Christmas Eve video, and Ms. Erin's video she made for our church's children, and the "best Christmas ever" got even better! And given it was my last as a pastor before a planned 2021 mid-year retirement, I now have to say it was my most memorable.

Friends, it's time to count our blessings, even as we say a prayer of grace for those battling this awful pandemic, either personally, health-wise, or on the "front lines" of the hospitals and clinics. It's also a time to pray fervently for the world to be vaccinated, ASAP so we can put this Coronavirus to bed for good. And let us pray that the scientific breakthroughs made while "warp speeding" the development of these COVID-19 vaccines will usher in a new era of tools to fight back future viruses before they become an epidemic, or God-forbid a pandemic. 

Let us also pray and work for the coming of God's Beloved Community. Each new crisis has brought us a sample of it--wars that brought people together to win over tyranny, natural disasters that mustered the best in us to give aid, the aftermath of acts of terrorism that gelled a nation (at least for a season), and great human accomplishments like the moon landing or the American Civil Rights Act of 1964 that signaled to us all how we CAN be better, as a people. Please, Dear Lord, help the lessons sink in without another pandemic! With God's help, may 2021 be the year when the Beloved Community begins to sink its roots deep into our hearts and across Planet Earth. And may it be a year of healing for all.

I don't think I've ever looked so forward to a NEW Year...a HAPPY NEW Year. And may it be for all of us, without conditions, other than the human one we all must bear. And for those of us who call upon his name, may Jesus be our "central figure of the human race" once again. Shalom, Yinz! 

New Light

I am not dead. I realize that the last time I updated this blog was back in September. Not a good track record for someone who had the goal of doing weekly updates in 2020, but then a few things have happened this year. A few things...

I did something I've never done before back in October (and no, I didn't eat broccoli on a stick, or anything)--I took a week's vacation. In 36 years of ministry, I have taken time off in the "lazy days" of Summer, at some point, and the past few years, have taken most of the month of August off. This year, though, with the kind permission and coverage of my pastoral colleagues, I took a week in October, and Dara and I stayed in the keeper's house of the Cove Point Light near Lusby, Maryland. Dara likes lighthouses, and I have to admit, they hold a certain fascination for me as well, so when I found one that you could stay at, I got online and booked  it. I'm always trying to find something out of the ordinary that will "wow" Dara, as she "wows" me, just for who she is. A few years ago, I booked us into a few nights at a Frank Lloyd Wright-designed house near Cleveland, over her July 4 birthday. The Cove Point stay was another attempt to thrill her, and it worked pretty well.

Cove Point Light is a working lighthouse on a peninsula overlooking the Chesapeake Bay. It is the oldest lighthouse in Maryland. A local historical preservation non-profit has restored the keeper's house, put in some modern conveniences, and rents it out. We went in October for three reasons: we're not "sun" people, so the moderate weather of October is about perfect for us; it was half the booking price from the Summer prime season (still expensive, but I didn't have to sell a kidney to afford it); and if you want to book it during the Summer season, you probably can't get in until 2023--it's that popular. (Having told some St. Paul's folk about it, a couple have tried to book it even in the OFF season, only to find that it has become VERY popular, and unavailable for at least a couple of years.)

In the off season, they give you a code for the huge electronic gate that secludes the peninsula, and you really have the place to yourself. There is a private "walking beach" (no swimming because of huge riptides), a great screened-in porch, which we made great use of, and a wonderful kitchen for preparing meals--quite handy, given COVID restrictions on what would have otherwise been some enticing local restaurants. (We DID order takeout our last night there from a local "soul food" restaurant run by a couple of African American sisters, and WOW, was that food INCREDIBLE!) Just sitting on that porch (or on the beach) reading and watching Chesapeake Bay boat traffic was wonderfully therapeutic.

This introduction to my central point in this reflection may be the longest one you will ever read. Here's what I really wanted to share, as we are in the throes of Advent...

Above is a photo I took of two lights, both very, very old. The kerosene lantern still works, and provides a subtle light in a dark room. The oldest lighthouse in Maryland still beams its guidance out into the bay, behind it. Both are faithful lights that chase out enough darkness that people like Abraham Lincoln could get his education by a kerosene lantern similar to this one, and small crab boats and giant sea-going tankers could be safely guided into the Chesapeake. They may be old, but light is light! No matter the form, fuel, or luster, it drives out darkness.

In this Advent season, we look forward to the coming of the Light of the World--Jesus, the Christ of God. Jesus is both an old and a NEW light. Ancient, in human time is the story of Christ's birth, along with the Gospel's promise that Christ would be "the light of humanity," and that the darkness he would drive out would NOT overcome this light. The NEW light of Christ is that which shines fresh and new each Advent and Christmas season when we open our hearts to the Good News once again, and allow the timeless message to drive out our personal "darkness." Advent is also a time we pray for and "expect" God's Realm to break into our world, as it fights the darkness that seems always to be trying to "overcome" it. This year,  it is COVID-19 and a divided nation, both of which bring a pall of fear. Is there anything more "dark" than fear, especially when that fear seems to be gaining in intensity, rather than abating? 

Friends, like the light of these ancient lights above, the eternal light of Jesus Christ can still drive out the darkness from the "room" of our personal lives, and that same beacon can provide guidance and direction to our future, guarding us from the threatening rocks and the crashing waves. 

May the newness of Christ's presence keep you safe and well, as we approach the end of a tumultuous year, and may that strong beacon of the "Spirit of Jesus" help you navigate the unsure waters of the coming new year. 

And just in case I "go quiet" again, due to the continuing challenges of being a pastor during a pandemic, we pray you will have a Merry Christmas, even in the shifting tides, a Happy New Year, and find time for a blessed respite from the storms of life. Peace on Earth, goodwill toward Yinz!

Some Things I Think I Think...

 

1. I like to drive. I just like to drive. I find it generally relaxing, especially during this COVID-19 period when traffic is a little lighter, I'm usually not in a huge hurry to get anywhere in particular, and the weather is still nice enough to let me drive my Miata convertible (which I call the "Batmobile," since it is all jet black). One of the greatest thrills of my life was when I passed my driver's test at age 16. The freedom being able to drive afforded was amazing and still is! I could drive to the country to set up my telescope; drive myself to the library; pick up a friend and go visit other friends; or go on a date without arranging for a ride! One of my "dream" trips in retirement was driving along Rt. 66 and seeing its weird, historical sights. I may not happen now, though, as I recently read a story by an African American writer who said that Rt. 66 was never a place for Black people--it was pretty much a whites-only passageway, and its attractions were restricted. This reality shook me up, and I'm not sure I would enjoy this trip, now. Maybe now we should drive along the routes declared more "safe" for African Americans  by Victor Hugo Green's Green Book?

2. AND this leads to my second thing I think I think: I support the Black Lives Matter movement wholeheartedly. The purpose of this movement is to focus on the many ways that our African American citizens' lives are adversely affected just because their skin is a different color. Lately, the national focus has been on how Blacks are treated by law enforcement, ranging from their treatment by police, to jail sentences that have resulted in the incarceration of an incredibly disproportionate number of African Americans, jamming jails and prisons, nationwide. As Michelle Alexander has pointed out in her book The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness, the majority of Blacks in jail are there for minor "three and out" drug offenses and/or just because they cannot afford to pay a fine! Black Lives Matter (BLM) seeks to both shine a light on the numerous ways African Americans are being oppressed, as well as protest when high-profile cases--the latest being the Breonna Taylor killing and subsequent investigation--occur. Of course now we know the outcome of that investigation, and it is no balm for the fears and disparate legal treatment of the Black community. My heart still breaks when I hear an African American parent tell of how they must give their children "the talk" about how to avoid seriously negative outcomes if stopped by police. Even this counsel didn't help George Floyd. As has been stated by many, Black Lives Matter doesn't mean that only Black lives matter, or that all lives don't matter. The movement--and even the statement--only seek to shine a light on an injustice, and one that is unique to African Americans in the United States of America.

3. I think there is something as "White privilege." As a white person, I have never been denied anything just because of the color of my skin. I have African American friends who were told there were "no vacancies" in apartment complexes when there were, or who have had car salesmen try to talk them out of new cars because of the assumption they have bad credit. A couple of years ago, our church had Tim Stevens, former chairperson of the NAACP in Allegheny County, and founder and executive director of the Black Political Empowerment Project (B-PEP) speak here. During his talk, he asked how many of us in the room had ever been pulled over by police for a "safety check"? No one in the room raised a hand. He stated that he has been--about 100 times. The dictionary defines "White privilege" as: the unearned, mostly unacknowledged social advantage white people have over other racial groups simply because they are white. White privilege doesn't mean that most white people didn't have to "work" to get what they have (a frequently-stated objection to the phrase), it just means white people don't encounter the hoops to jump through or the barriers to overcome that persons of color do. And when we don't have these, we subsequently may deny they exist. Of course, as I have said many times to people who claim racism and/or White privilege don't exist, go ask a Black person. We are not qualified to make this judgment, as they are not in our experience. 

4. I think COVID-19 is a serious threat to all people, not a hoax, and not just a "mild flu." This is not just an opinion, but an assessment based on physicians, medical scholars, and researchers who are members of my congregation. COVID-19 is caused by SARS-Cov-2, a virus that is no respecter of persons. It doesn't care what you "feel" about it when it infects you, and it is the "Russian Roulette" of viruses! Is it true that some who are infected have little to no symptoms of the infection? Yes. But it is also true that people of all ages and states of health are among the 200,000 Americans who have died at the hands of the virus. What reasonable person, what religious believer, what Democrat or Republican, what young, middle-aged, or old person would want to roll those dice? But, here we are, witnessing persons who deny COVID-19's horrid efficacy, or taking a political stand against the closings and restrictions aimed at reducing the impact of the virus and keeping as many people as possible, safe from it. We have people demanding that children be sent back to the classroom in communities where the virus is particularly active. Friends, is there any among us who is not tired of this virus? Is there any among us who doesn't want it to go away, never to return? Of course not. But we cannot vote it away, we cannot wish it away, we cannot will it away. COVID-19 will be conquered by science--an effective vaccine--and by safety measures such as face-coverings, social distancing, frequent hand-washing, and avoiding unnecessary crowds, until one is available. 

5. I think prayer is a thing. I think something happens when we pray--maybe many things. Our prayers for challenges like those listed above (yes, even driving) may effectively solicit God's help. Our prayers may be turned inward by the Spirit of God to change us--altering (OR "altaring") our attitudes, straightening out our "stinking thinking," and moving us to some healing action on behalf of others, as well as ourselves. I also think you don't have to be religious to pray. I have seen it "work" on behalf of persons who profess not to believe. There is no magic to praying, but there is magic in prayer. It's a righteous magic. 

6. I think taking time to read the Bible is a thing. Reading the Bible is not done as a self-help exercise as much as it is a selfless-help exercise. If we read the Bible with this thesis statement in mind--God desires to forgive, redeem, reconcile, and prosper the human community--we will go far in properly interpreting the scriptures. While the book is full of stories of harm, hate, war, judgment, if we focus on the "reconciling" thesis, it will give us the clear lenses to view and apply what it is trying to say to us. Even as the people Israel regularly fall prey to creating idols, modern Christians have tried to turn the Bible--or even the cross--into idols. In fact, both of these point to God's redeeming action in the human realm, luring and enticing us to work to make it look more like the realm of God.

7. I think sin is a thing. Actually, I know so, and not just "because the Bible tells me so." I confess to inordinate anger over the current political climate in a country I love, and to letting that spill into some of my social media posts, the blood-pressure-raising tirades I've regularly held in my inner-dialogue, and in profanities I have uttered at TVs, radios, and computer screens (thankfully not actual persons, but I've come close). I could blame everything on the divisiveness we are experiencing, and which is being fanned into an even larger conflagration by the Coronavirus, but I confess I must look inwardly to where I have let this take root. How about you? Anything resonate here? I think the current social environment--which seems like a terrible retrenchment to earlier times when people actually had less respect for one another, and even voted it into law--has exposed my own sin. I keep thinking, "Preacher, HEAL thyself!" Years ago, a wise preacher told me, "Preach at yourself, and if someone else gets in the way, it's on them." I am trying, with God's help, to "relearn" this valuable lesson. In case you haven't had the epiphany, this stuff is hard! Where would be be with God's grace?!!

8. I think I need to take a drive. It's almost the end of the day, so it will be toward home. Time for a little top-down therapy, motoring prayers, and maybe a little Native American flute music on the Batmobile sound system...and to those of you who waded through my meandering thoughts, Shalom!

Treasure Hunt...

 

Sorry it has been so long since my last Blog post, friends. I last posted on August 21, just after coming off of a shorter-than-normal vacation, and two days before I turned 66. That's it--I'll blame it on getting old! No, really, I'll bet you don't recognize the man pictured above, do you? I didn't either, but let me fill you in.

His name is Forrest Fenn. He's currently in the news because he just died at 90. He was a self-styled adventurer and art collector, who also got into collecting other treasures, including coins and gold. Over a decade ago, he was diagnosed with cancer, and after treatment, he used his personal rejuvenation to "remake" himself, and began doing things he had never done before, and going places he had never been. About that time, he wrote his autobiography entitled "The Thrill of the Chase." Turns out, he buried a "treasure" of cold, coins, and other collectables worth at least a million dollars somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, and salted his book with clues as to where it was. It's estimated that over 350,000 people read his book and went on adventurous treks through the Rocky Mountains, trying to find the riches. Unfortunately, some of those souls were not experienced at such man vs. nature challenges, and five actually died while searching. That's the bad news.

The good news is that on June 27 of this year, an anonymous Fenn-finder found the booty, and thankfully, Forrest Fenn was still around to see it. But there is better news. Fenn's challenge greatly broadened the lives and interests of a majority of the remaining 349,995 who survived the search and learned to love hiking, climbing, kayaking rivers, and reveling in the beauty of the Rocky Mountains. As you can tell from the title of Fenn's personal story, "The Thrill of the Chase," this is the lesson he was hoping to teach by hiding the treasure.

Jesus told a parable about a man who finds a treasure buried on a plot of land. He so wants to possess the treasure that he goes and buys the plot of land so the treasure can be legally his. Fenn's searchers "bought the land"--they discovered the wonders (and some, the dangers) of nature. A number of them have written stories and articles about how enriched they have become by going on the treasure hunt.

Forrest Fenn kind of "pulled a Jesus" on his readers, launching them on the trip of a lifetime. We don't know all of their stories, but obviously many of them left what was normal, or comfortable, or secure, and launched out to find a financial treasure, uncovering instead a new lease on life, beauty, and taxing experiences that jazzed them up with a whole new vision of what living is about. They met new people--including in many cases other treasure hunters--and learned to sleep under the stars. Some even quit their jobs to do a "Come and follow me" act.

OK, I'm 66 and contemplating retirement next year. I've loved my work as a "professional disciple," but am not a very adventurous soul, beyond my spiritual journey and penchant for reading and writing. In these, I may be a legend in my own mind, as they say, but at least I've tried to think--and preach--outside the box a bit. But when it comes to "comfort level," I've often said that my idea of roughing it is the Red Roof Inn instead of a Ramada. I'm generally not the outdoorsy type (stop it, those of you who know me, I can hear you laughing!). When I shared a video of my son's incredible hiking, kayaking, and climbing, 400-plus-mile trek along the "lost coast" of Alaska with his life partner, everyone who viewed it looked at me and asked, "Where did HE come from?" 

My wife persuaded me to join her in getting into bicycling a few years ago. We're doing more of that, now. My daughter and her family like to hike, and on our recent vacation with them, they had us on both a hike and bike trail ride. I bought a new telescope, and one night we stayed up way past the grands' bedtime so we could set it up and view the late-rising moon, as well as a couple of planets. Every day, as I drive through North Park on my way to the church, I find myself drawn to wanting to spend more time there in retirement, hiking, walking with Dara, and maybe even fishing. As I think I mentioned in an earlier blog, at his request, I took a very young Evan on a few fishing trips, and thoroughly enjoyed it! The thing that spoiled it was actually catching a fish--ruined the whole "peaceful" thing, as that was violent, and disgusting (having to de-hook the fish without touching it because those things feel weird, and then gently kicking it back into the water). 

When the kids were little, we bought a used tent camper and even tried camping, because I read an article that families that the common denominator in families that maintained tight relationships over the years was that they went camping. It was fun, actually, but when it became clear that we were all more enamored with visiting historical, scientific, and artistic venues, the camper gave way to just the car and decent hotels. Also, Dara didn't like that she had to do all of the cooking (remember, that's another thing I'm just learning, as preparation for retirement). But now, even camping is taking on a slight lure. Very slight. But a lure. It would seem that the "buried treasure" of retirement has already begun to alter my thinking.

So, what does this have to do with Forrest Fenn, Jesus, and you? Well, lesson one is: don't wait until retirement to try some things "out of the box" for you, and take a few steps outside your comfort zone. And, if like me you did wait, so what? Do it now! Don't let the fact that there are snakes and ticks in the woods keep you from taking a hike. (OK, I'll admit, now I'm preaching to myself...) Read an article or a book about something interesting, and then go investigate!

And that's lesson two: there are treasures out there! People, places, experiences, mission opportunities, lots of stuff to learn about, or see, or find--all of it waiting to be discovered. When Jesus said, "Come, follow me," twelve people took him up on it. My son tells me that he and Shannon may have only been the 11th and 12th persons to go on the "lost coast" hike they did. And while over 350,000 went on the hunt for the pot-o-gold old Forrest planted, most of them found something far richer than the contents of his treasure chest. Engaged with passion, curiosity, and faith-seeking-understanding, life really IS a treasure hunt! Let's get going, Yinz! Shalom!

My Conversation with the Late Saints...

 

At the urging of my dear roommate, I'm taking a continuing education course called "Photography as Ministry," made available by some part of the United Methodist connection. It cost money, so I'm taking it seriously, and I think Dara is trying to prepare me for next year's planned retirement, knowing: a) I minored in photojournalism in college and just bought new camera equipment; and b) she doesn't want to lose her sanity when I retire, expecting me to be constantly under foot (I'm the touchy, feely, huggy type, and she's the "get out of my face" type). 

Anyway, one of our most recent assignments was to walk around our church, spend some time in prayer, and record images of what grabs us. At St. Paul's, I wandered into the dark sanctuary where the beautiful stained-glass chancel cross--illuminated 24/7, except for Good Friday afternoon through Easter morning--was glowing, and grabbed several photos of it, both in its totality, and then zoomed in to some of its pictorial details. I had to stop and sit down for an unexpected extra moment of meditation and prayer when I got to the cross detail that shows the elements of Holy Communion. For United Methodists, in the best tradition of Jesus and John Wesley, to have not shared Communion with one's beloved community for months is just unheard of! I stumbled emotionally, as I prayed for relief from the presence of the Coronavirus and for a fresh measure of grace in the absence of Holy Communion. The image from the cross at least served as a prophetic beacon that we will once again break bread together at the table of the Lord. Sometime. The prayer I gave was that it would be, miraculously, soon. 

I was also moved by the cross detail of the open Bible, which reminded this preacher that we are called to preach the Gospel "in season and out," not deterred by something as lame as COVID-19. From parking lots to pixels, we have continued to open that Bible, pore over the text, and proclaim a word of hope, love, and grace. This, too, was comforting.

I walked into the New Horizons room, which had a "stale" aroma to it right now, brought on by the lack of activity it has had during the pandemic. This also caught me off guard, as this is possibly the busiest room in the church when things are "normal." Bible studies, Church Council, countless committees, ministry groups and task teams, the full church staff, Weekday Ministries personnel, and a growing number of "outside" organizations vie for spots on the calendar governing New Horizons. I prayed for as many of these groups as I could think of, but took no pictures. I couldn't figure out how to capture "stale" on film--it's just not the same as "empty."

Next, I put in some steps (literally) to swipe my electronic fob over the lock that "clicked" me into the ground floor of the Christian Life Center, which houses our huge Preschool and Childcare programs. While our Weekday Ministries have been and will be operating, even in the face of COVID-19 because of the great need of our families, this is the time of year when they are always shut down for cleaning and primping, getting ready for Fall restarts. This means the classrooms and play areas are just deserted. Covers are stretched over the toys, tables, and art easels like shrouds over the furniture of an abandoned old mansion. It smells clean, though, as our custodial staff has exorcised any molecule of bacteria, virus, or even dust from all surfaces, vertical and horizontal. Partly because they have the time to thoroughly clean now, but also in rehearsal to the necessity to do so diligently, daily, when the humans--littles and grownups--return in a couple of weeks. Elated to see a solitary light at the end of a dark hallway, I pleasantly encountered Linda and Laurel in the Preschool office. Like all good adult co-workers right now, both were masked, as was I, and like three nurses discussing a patient's vitals, we had a refreshing kabitz about the challenges of again filling these rooms with hundreds of over-active, highly energized germ-bearers, soon. (My words, not theirs...) I snuck into Mary Polley's inner sanctum of Childcare and took a couple pictures of that space, also suspended in time, dark and lonely. I said a prayer for all of the children of the world, as well as the bunches who will be romping around here, soon.

My last stop was back upstairs, to the chapel across the hall from the rear sanctuary entrances. This is where the St. Paul's Columbarium resides. Entering, I turned on the lights in the display area of each unit, and captured a few million photons into the memory of my camera. Then, again, I had to pause, sit down, and unpack a sudden feeling of "presence" that overcame me. As I reviewed some of the names on the plaques, I remembered conversations with many of these saints in "ages past." And I could almost imagine renewing these exchanges right now, asking each what they thought of the pandemic, and of the fact that their busy church is now host to only kids and cleaners, at least for a season. I walked over to the newer of the two Columbarium units and began a somewhat protracted chat with the resident of niche P2--Faith Geer. In my mind's eye, I could hear both her emotional, eyes-dancing, rapid-fire assessment of what COVID-19 was doing to both her church and her schedule, and her lists of "do's" and "dont's" about how to proceed with getting things back on line. I asked her to appeal to Jesus for us to wave his hand and take away this "palsy," this "demon" that has been a gut-punch to his church, but got the feeling that maybe, just maybe, her already incessant appeals on our behalf had temporarily put her in the doghouse with the King of Kings. I could feel a tear fall, though, I swear, between here and that place "on the other side of the veil," a tear not of pity, or even empathy, but one of the pain in not being here to help us cope, plan, and fix. I wondered if she is bored a bit with heaven, but I guess we'll know if, when we arrive, there are signs posted everywhere. I sure hope she enjoyed our conversation as much as it was soothing to me, though. 

This "Photography as Ministry" gig might have been a good idea, I guess, even if it was predominantly designed to keep me out of my wife's hair at some future date. Some of the photos I have been "receiving" (the term our teacher prefers, eschewing the typically violent photographic terms like "shooting," "taking," or "capturing") will probably end up as "calming" photos I have been posting daily on my Facebook page during the pandemic. Others may just serve as personal conversation starters. 

Thanks for "listening." Remember, they are too, that "great cloud of witnesses," and they're pulling for us. The least we can do is pull together. Grace and peace, Dear Ones!

A Little Break in the Action...

We're getting ready to "go on vacation." That used to be so simple, but not anymore. We've been holing up like a couple of mice in an ice storm, "self-quarantining" in an effort to travel to Prospect, Kentucky to see our daughter and her family (and our two grandchildren) whom we haven't seen in person since Christmas. They are self-quarantining, too, so as not to take the chance of catching and transmitting Coronavirus to the "old people." "Plan A" was to take the Prius Prime, which would get us to Prospect on less than a full tank of gas, no problem, and to drive straight through, with no stops. "Plan B" has kicked in, because the grandkids want us to bring our bicycles, and Dara's Prius is the one with the hitch for the bike carrier. It may not make it on a single tank, which means a stop along the way. Who am I kidding? Two 65-plus adults who begin their day with serious shots of coffee? No potty stop? Not going to happen on "Plan A" OR "Plan B!" "Plan B-prime" includes potty stops, as needed, and the purchasing of KN-95 masks to wear for the various stops. Since we're not leaving until early Monday morning, a "Plan C" could be in the offing.

You may be wondering what the "K" in the KN-95 masks is all about? Basically, it means that while the masks are "designed" to filter out between 95 and 98% of potential virus "stuff," they are not certified as valid PPE for medical personnel. Hence they may be sold to the general public. Are they better than the homemade cloth masks we typically wear? Maybe. So, we bought a few to take along on the trip for the necessary interaction with "the public," which is now a threat, apparently.

"Plan C" would most likely be just staying home. It could happen if any of us wind up with symptoms that could be COVID, or if either of our States loses a pissing contest over the latest "surge" of the Coronavirus. Pennsylvania has a whole list of States that if a person visits one of them, they must quarantine themselves for 14 days before returning to work. That could be a deal-breaker, if Kentucky would go on that list. Or, if Kentucky flags Pennsylvania, we would have to skip the trip, as my son-in-law, an engineer who is mostly working from home during COVID-19, does have to take some trips for his job, and in this case, we would be the potential culprits, coming from a "rogue" State. Now, I've never done a two week "staycation," and I'm pretty sure I'd drive Dara to distraction in short order. I'm not the "put on some soft music and read five or six books" type. If I'm reading, the TV is on, and my computer is beside me with a browser open. This drives her crazy because she is a "Put on some soft music and read five books" type. Or, she would just lock herself in her sewing palace and sew, sew, sew. A two-week "staycation" in the Sterling household would end up with a mad wife and probably 10,000 new COVID masks sewn in frustration. I'd get several of them as gifts, ones which I would check for strychnine.

We're also doing something new--"cleaning for vacation." We never did that before COVID. We're sweeping all of the carpets, cleaning the tile floors, sorting through clutter and discarding the chaff--I even hand-washed two cars and gave the Batmobile a protective, ceramic coating. We weeded the garden area around the deck, and spruced up the front of the townhouse. Why are we doing this? I guess because week two of vacation will involve coming back home, and we want it to be neat? I don't really know, but I'm into it, too. It's not just Dara's idea. I never thought I'd take the first day of a badly needed vacation to play Felix Unger, but here we are. Just call it the psychological side-effect of the Coronavirus.

One thing I feel good about (other than being excited to see my grandkids) is leaving St. Paul's in good hands. Pastor Karen is always wonderful to step in and take the reins when I'm away, and in the past three years, I've taken almost the whole month of August off! She is just coming off of a two-week staycation, so normally I'd say she's well rested, but you know what she did? CLEANED! She rented a huge dumpster and decluttered her whole place! It's the Coronavirus, I'm telling you. Anyway, at least she got away from the stresses of a church and its daily attempts to minister during the pandemic. AND, there is another good thing happening--Rev. Chad has joined our staff for this year, and he has hit the ground with both feet running. He's doing some excellent devotionals over social media, and has preached a couple great sermons. He's also trying hard to "meet" people via our Zoom meetings, and will take the handoff on my Summer weekly Bible Study on Zoom! So, I don't feel as bad taking two weeks, at this point. This great church is in even greater hands! And our Leadership Team and church staff are awesome, as well, in what they are doing. Believe me, it's nice to not be needed!

We're only taking two weeks now because if we tried to stretch out two more weeks of staycation I know I'd be the victim of a justifiable homicide. Besides, we are still hoping to take a week in late October when we've booked a week staying at a lighthouse (in the lighthouse keeper's house, actually--beside a functioning lighthouse on the Chesapeake Bay). They are still taking guests, as the whole thing is out on a secluded, gated peninsula.

Dara loves lighthouses, and this looks like a wonderful late Fall getaway. Oh...I just had a sudden nightmare...what if we get the Coronavirus urge to clean this puppy? No...go away...can't happen. Anyway, we just learned this week that while they are still having guests come, all of the linens and towels and stuff they usually provide, they are not able to, because of the virus. So, I need to start planning now how we'll get all of that into the car along with my telescope, cameras, books, and all of the cleaning supplies...no, no, go away, bad thoughts!

One final piece of good news. So far, St. Paul's congregation has been little impacted by COVID-19, something for which we are extremely thankful to God about. We had one early death of a senior member of our congregation. She was in a care facility, and they believed she succumbed to the virus. Other than that, we've been fortunate. We have also been extremely cautious about our in-person activities, limiting them to outdoor-only worship, and to two, socially-distanced, funeral services. Both were limited to 25 persons and all wore face-coverings. Of course, like virtually all of you, we are live-streaming a service from our facility, but with a small crew, and with face-coverings in place right up until our speaking role. Prior to COVID-19, St. Paul's was not live-streaming our services, waiting until we could muster the funds to put in decent origination equipment. But with the onset of the pandemic shutdown, we purchased rudimentary gear and went online. That's a topic for another blog, though. Suffice it to say, live-streaming is now here to stay, even after the Coronavirus is history.

I pray this installment finds you well and safe, Dear Ones. I also pray it finds you with vacation plans of your own, even if they involve a dumpster and strychnine. (Well, not really.) For any of my ministerial colleagues who may be reading this, I have to say that I really missed Annual Conference and the chance it affords to see your faces and tell stories together! I'm not optimistic that we'll get that October one in, either, so it may not be until 2021 when we again spout, "And Are We yet Alive"...or maybe not. We can at least think it together. Shalom to Yinz! Later...I think I missed a spot over there...