Faith Works 3-21-20
Jeff Gill
The Great Hiatus will be with us for years
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At this time, if anyone tells you they know when the public gathering restrictions will be lifted, or how soon large worship gatherings will be encouraged, they're guessing.
I'm in south Texas right now, as in you can almost see Reynosa, Mexico from where I am, and thank you for the many kind words and expressions and prayers that have followed me here, to honor the end of my dad's life last week and support me in caring for my mom and her needs right now.
As in Ohio (how'd that election go, anyhow?), Texas is dealing with a variety of reactions by faith communities, consumers, and the public at large. I ran into a guy . . . okay, my sister ran into him, but we stood by the side of the road for some time waiting for wreckers to show up (long story), and he told me about how he's not convinced this is really a problem. We've been part of the problem – people from one state traveling to another – and some react by hearing we're from Indiana and Ohio by stepping back, and some by shrugging and hugging us whether we want one or not.
If we were asymptomatic carriers of the virus, we've had far too many opportunities in two planes, a van, and now a rental car, shopping for necessities for a new widow and her two adult children now Texas occupants, to spread a virus if we had one in our system, just by walking around and breathing. We've neither had a temperature or other symptoms, but it hasn't been a week since my dad's death, and I'm behind the curve on almost everything, including noticing my symptoms. So who knows.
And yes, my father's memorial service here in Pharr, Texas where he's lived half the year for fifteen years is cancelled. Gatherings are banned. So we're doing a strange, surreal version of "calling hours" from the porch. I will say more about this once I've processed it.
I picked up my father's ashes, which I've done with more people than I can count, but yes, doing it for your own parent is . . . no, I don't have a great deal to say about that experience yet. But that modestly sized box, whose contents (black plastic box, certificate of cremation, heavy duty plastic bag, metal seal affixed to the neck of the bag, contents which are, frankly, undescribable other than as ashes) are no surprise to me, yet are a world shaking, reality shattering gift handed over with a matter-of-fact statement of "that will be [price stated like a bag of apples].," to which you hand over your credit card like you do for groceries . . . do I sound rattled yet? Yes, you're welcome.
So we are in what I firmly believe will long be called something like "The Great Hiatus." A pause in normal life, which may or may not change how we do normal. I am quite old enough to recall the events both of 9-11-01 itself, and the weeks that followed. Many of us, myself included, thought certain aspects of community life would change after 9-11, but by October we had plowed over much of those assumptions. Other than boarding at airports, I'm not sure how much in faith or community changed.
Wrong once, shame on me; wrong twice, shame on you? But I really do think that this time we will see some significant changes in social and faith community life after the current coronavirus crisis ends. It's too soon to speculate too broadly, but I have a few in mind. Many churches will see some major changes over these next few weeks. When I'm back in town and into ministry, I hope to share a few thoughts on that.
Meanwhile, for your prayers to what we are still able to do for my dad, I thank you. These are hard days for many, and the obstacles to a "normal" funeral for so many is one of many hard things we have to grind our way through.
Again, thank you for the many prayers and expressions of support.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's in the middle of planning memorial services for his dad. Let him know how you've dealt with such times of transition at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.
