Faith in the Time of COVID

I think I have not had COVID-19.  There is no way to know, but there is pretty much no way to know anything. Quarantine is like that. If you listen to two news reports, they will say opposite things. If someone gets a job, the celebratory period can be followed by “Due to COVID-19, the offer has been rescinded.” If someone said, “Due to COVID-19, gravity is disappearing,” I would expect to float aloft like Bob and Doug entering the International Space Station—except for the hugs, of course. Even if we begin to float, we are not supposed to be caught hugging here near the earth. Even established things are as unrecognizable as living in space. 

I am what is called “a person of faith.” That sounds like faith herself birthed me, but it is the same as saying I go to church. Or it would have been the same thing back in the earth years before 2020. Now, we do not go much of anywhere. We streamed church for a while, then, tried driving-in to church, and now, we have moved up to social distancing church. All of it bears little resemblance to what we think of as being faithful or going anywhere. 

For instance, there can’t be in-person Bible classes, so we use the ZOOM app to have them, not in outer space, but in cyber space. ZOOM is to Bible class what drowning is to swimming. You are still in the water but the outcome is much less satisfying.

I want ZOOM class to begin with a mini-lesson. In past days, our grandchildren would have been there to instruct us, but now, we need a tutorial. To wit:  Down on the bottom left of your page is a MUTE button.  It shows a picture of a microphone. If your microphone does not have a line through it, you are not muted. We can hear your neighbor’s lawnmower.  We can hear your dog barking. Click on the microphone until you see the “/” through it. Then, if you want to talk, unmute. If you want us to see your pretty face, there will be a square up by your name. Click on the square, click on the choice that has “video” in it. Now, you are properly ZOOMing. Your big face can now communicate with my big face. I had no idea what body language meant to Bible class. I do, now. 

Sermons are not ZOOMed. But they are streamed. There are ways to find your service. Go to the website. If it’s not there, go to Facebook. It’s somewhere. If it’s not anywhere go to your Facebook page and see how many people are asking where the sermon is. If anyone under 45 is looking for it, something has gone amiss and it is not being streamed. Ignore everyone over 45, we probably haven’t a clue and can’t visit a grandchild to find out.   

Then there is drive-in church. Drive-in church is not like the old drive-in movies. For movies, you can see the main event. Drive-in church allows you to listen to what is happening while staring at the back of the SUV parked in front of you. There are two ways to hear what is going on. One is to use the radio. The other is to use Facebook. They are not coordinated. So, when you sing, you can be 10 seconds off from the car next to you. Since they tell you to roll down the windows so we can sing together, it can be difficult. That last nerve you were saving for a trip to the grocery store tomorrow is not going to be there after three verses of two cars singing ten seconds out of sync. But, people of faith are taught to deal with trials. After being in church for all seventy of my years, I should be built up with patience enough for on-line groceries, two more ZOOM classes, or one more drive-in church service.    

However, since we have a reprieve of full quarantine, we had social distancing church today. In order to sit at waving distance, every other pew is off limits. We had people in the pews, people in chairs, people in classrooms watching a live stream, and people in the parking lot listening to the radio version. We were seated by deacons, so the whole pew ownership thing is not possible. I’m sure it was harder than ZOOM class for some—we do get used to our “spot”—but most of us were just so happy to see live people, we would have sat on the floor, so it didn’t cause any noticeable problems. 

Our congregation has twenty-eight deacons. They are human. They have been in quarantine, too. So, they seated us apart, served us wearing gloves and masks, and released us by row. They did not try to direct us once we were outside. Good thing. Shooting a deacon is illegal even in times of stress. People gathered outside. They talked. They laughed. They stood and admired how wonderful live people are compared to the one dimensional ones on television and cell phone videos. And if there was not a full six feet of distance, it’s okay. Some things that are necessary to life are not seen in petri dishes and on microscopes. 

Like the astronauts, I did get one hug. It was wonderful. Like all things COVID, we huggers have neither one been tested to see if we have the virus because….Well, because they tell you the only way to know if you are positive is to a take a test that isn’t available. The hug was available. And after so many weeks of quarantine, strange grocery substitutions, doctor visits on iPhones and other tests of our mettle and our endurance, that hug was great medicine for what I do have. My mental stability feels much improved. Like the astronauts, for just a moment I was floating on air.