Reflection for April 17, 2020
“One who is faithful in very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in very little is also dishonest in much.” – Luke 16:10
I can only speak for myself, but as each week of social distancing has gone by, the experience has changed, even if the days have largely stayed the same.
In the first week, it was a little bit exciting, perhaps. The kids came home from school and didn’t go back, work schedules were adjusted, people took to ordering in from their favorite restaurants instead of eating out (and if you can, please keep doing so!). That first week, though anxious and scary, had the feel of the beginning of an adventure. We didn’t know how long we’d be in our homes, and the thought that it might just be for a few weeks was still very much talked about.
In the second and third weeks things started to feel a lot more real. The virus stopped being something we joked about as people we know and love got sick. Friends and colleagues, family members – even movie stars and famous athletes. Fear of the virus became compounded by fear for our financial stability. We all watched first as the stock market lost trillions of dollars in value and unemployment claims shot through the roof as businesses furloughed workers. Between the sickness itself and the economic fallout few, if any of us, are untouched by this pestilence.
All that led us into the strangest Holy Week that I can remember. Palm Sunday was celebrated without palms. The Maundy Thursday Lord’s Supper was shared around video screens on different tables – grains gathered from many fields into many loaves, and grapes from many hills into many cups. Easter Sunday, when we most especially love to gather and worship together, left us ungathered and worshiping apart.
The whole experience of the past month has been disconcerting to say the least. Yet in this week after Easter, a time I usually use to decompress and exhale after the rigors of a normal Holy Week, there’s a different feel to my days.
I think that feeling is simply described as “routine.”
The novelty and newness of being home all the time has worn off. We have our masks that we wear to the store now. We thoroughly scrub our hands when we go out and when we come in. And we’re starting to settle into patterns that aren’t quite familiar, but are becoming a little less strange.
And as we settle into a somewhat different normal, we start to pick up some of the tasks that we dropped before. In my case, it means getting back to paperwork and reviewing contracts for the Classis. The problem that I keep running into is that compared to the scope of the global pandemic we’re all facing, the day-to-day struggles of trying to keep our family fed, supplied, and sane, and the work of keeping our church family connected and involved in worship, everything else seems sort of trivial by comparison.
It can be difficult to make the time to dedicate to the little things we know should get done when we have such bigger worries on our minds. Yet these little things can also be saving graces. I don’t believe that individual people are well-equipped to fixate on massive, global problems that are beyond the control of any one of us. We can plan and prepare and take precautions in our own lives, and of course the worries of the world weigh on us whether we like it or not. But beyond that, taking care of the little things can help us through the day-to-day struggles of our lives.
It does not do to dwell on the state of the world every waking moment of our lives. We’ll think about it anyway and that mostly can’t be helped. But by tending to the little things – getting the “trivial” things done, and keeping our minds occupied, we can better cope with our daily struggles. First, those little things give us something else to think about and a way to focus our thoughts. And secondly, the day will come when the little things will matter again, and we’ll be glad to have done them.
This time of separation has given each of us new challenges and a steep learning curve to meet those challenges. And the anxieties we feel and the magnitude of the problems might seem insurmountable. But we will get through this. And we can help ourselves by tending to the things that need tending. It’s good for our communities, for the people who depend on us, and for our own selves.
I’ll be saying more about this in this Sunday’s sermon (hopefully after my thoughts have had time to become a little more well-developed). But I pray that everyone is keeping well, and I think for many people part of keeping well is staying diligent in the things that, at first blush, might not matter right away. God bless!
“One who is faithful in very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in very little is also dishonest in much.” – Luke 16:10
I can only speak for myself, but as each week of social distancing has gone by, the experience has changed, even if the days have largely stayed the same.
In the first week, it was a little bit exciting, perhaps. The kids came home from school and didn’t go back, work schedules were adjusted, people took to ordering in from their favorite restaurants instead of eating out (and if you can, please keep doing so!). That first week, though anxious and scary, had the feel of the beginning of an adventure. We didn’t know how long we’d be in our homes, and the thought that it might just be for a few weeks was still very much talked about.
In the second and third weeks things started to feel a lot more real. The virus stopped being something we joked about as people we know and love got sick. Friends and colleagues, family members – even movie stars and famous athletes. Fear of the virus became compounded by fear for our financial stability. We all watched first as the stock market lost trillions of dollars in value and unemployment claims shot through the roof as businesses furloughed workers. Between the sickness itself and the economic fallout few, if any of us, are untouched by this pestilence.
All that led us into the strangest Holy Week that I can remember. Palm Sunday was celebrated without palms. The Maundy Thursday Lord’s Supper was shared around video screens on different tables – grains gathered from many fields into many loaves, and grapes from many hills into many cups. Easter Sunday, when we most especially love to gather and worship together, left us ungathered and worshiping apart.
The whole experience of the past month has been disconcerting to say the least. Yet in this week after Easter, a time I usually use to decompress and exhale after the rigors of a normal Holy Week, there’s a different feel to my days.
I think that feeling is simply described as “routine.”
The novelty and newness of being home all the time has worn off. We have our masks that we wear to the store now. We thoroughly scrub our hands when we go out and when we come in. And we’re starting to settle into patterns that aren’t quite familiar, but are becoming a little less strange.
And as we settle into a somewhat different normal, we start to pick up some of the tasks that we dropped before. In my case, it means getting back to paperwork and reviewing contracts for the Classis. The problem that I keep running into is that compared to the scope of the global pandemic we’re all facing, the day-to-day struggles of trying to keep our family fed, supplied, and sane, and the work of keeping our church family connected and involved in worship, everything else seems sort of trivial by comparison.
It can be difficult to make the time to dedicate to the little things we know should get done when we have such bigger worries on our minds. Yet these little things can also be saving graces. I don’t believe that individual people are well-equipped to fixate on massive, global problems that are beyond the control of any one of us. We can plan and prepare and take precautions in our own lives, and of course the worries of the world weigh on us whether we like it or not. But beyond that, taking care of the little things can help us through the day-to-day struggles of our lives.
It does not do to dwell on the state of the world every waking moment of our lives. We’ll think about it anyway and that mostly can’t be helped. But by tending to the little things – getting the “trivial” things done, and keeping our minds occupied, we can better cope with our daily struggles. First, those little things give us something else to think about and a way to focus our thoughts. And secondly, the day will come when the little things will matter again, and we’ll be glad to have done them.
This time of separation has given each of us new challenges and a steep learning curve to meet those challenges. And the anxieties we feel and the magnitude of the problems might seem insurmountable. But we will get through this. And we can help ourselves by tending to the things that need tending. It’s good for our communities, for the people who depend on us, and for our own selves.
I’ll be saying more about this in this Sunday’s sermon (hopefully after my thoughts have had time to become a little more well-developed). But I pray that everyone is keeping well, and I think for many people part of keeping well is staying diligent in the things that, at first blush, might not matter right away. God bless!