Faith Works 6-5-21
Jeff Gill
Things that go by pretty fast
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In a month, we will have parades again and celebrations and in some locations, fireworks.
In a month, we will have parades again and celebrations and in some locations, fireworks.
If you're one of those feeling frustrated and snarky about anything this summer that's not happening, because it was called off months ago, I hope you'll reconsider, or at least be kind.
Those of us who have put together big public events are all too aware of what it takes to assemble people, programs, and PA systems in the out-of-doors or in borrowed spaces, and even when you control the venue, if you have to book musical talent and arrange seating, et cetera, you are acutely aware of both the long time frames in advance involved, and the ongoing calculations around how much money is spent, or invested, or committed, or whatever you want to call it, well before you know who is showing up. Wedding receptions are as close as most people get to this particular calculus, and there's a general assumption around them that you are not going to break even.
This is why in many cases events for May and June and July were called off back in March and April: too much uncertainty means excessive expense potential, and most non-profits can't risk as much as some fathers of brides spend, let alone larger sums.
Add in the fact that we didn't know where vaccinations would be back in March when some major decisions had to be made, and contracts signed, and yes, I suspect a few persons and organizations wish now they had taken a risk back then, but you know what they say: Hindsight is 2021. (No, not a typo.)
My own question about where we are and how things should proceed is tied to the fact that we're still looking at over half of the county unvaccinated. That might be by choice or out of necessity, but it means when I'm in places with groups together I keep thinking about those numbers, and what I can or should do for others. As for me and my house, we are vaccinated, as are the elderly folk I have some responsibilities to and for, but I'm willing to be masked if that helps affirm protecting that 60% or so still unprotected (see I Corinthians 8 for more on this subject). I don't need a mask, but do I need to be wearing one simply to support or encourage those who should be wearing them to do so?
I've had a few conversations in person and online about this, and frankly I'm uncomfortable with how quickly most people say "well, that's their choice." It is, but I'm not sure how well informed a choice it is, if so. If half of adults are really making that decision, I'm pragmatist enough to respect it, while wondering about what the broader outcomes are going to be. Will more choose to get vaccinated this summer? I sincerely hope so. "Only" a couple deaths a week seems to me, in light of what we've all been saying about suicide and overdoses, a steep price to casually concede is what our community has to pay, just so we can assemble and interact as if nothing has changed.
For a variety of reasons, including the ripple of COVID mortality, I've been thinking a great deal about how we regard the preciousness of life and the worth of our time over this past year. And in these next few weeks, fireworks will start to echo through the evening skies.
Sparklers are for me even more a part of a family Fourth of July than the big stuff. Nowadays fireworks are set off for all sorts of occasions, but I only see sparklers out right around Independence Day. My dad would buy a box every year, and the four of us would each get two or maybe three.
Fireworks go boom, but a sparkler is of longer duration (and probably why they have some risk involved and what makes parents watch so closely). Yet not forever, not for very long. And once the sparklers were done, so was the Fourth.
You would write your name in fire, turn circles, hear the roaring whoosh as you swung (carefully) your sparkler through the darkness. And you'd watch as the sparkler burned down the heavy wire stem to the end of the silvery leaden chemicals. It lasted only so long, and even a child tries to make the most of it. A child hears often "be careful," but they also want to wave them around. It's a joyful balancing act, in fire and light against the darkness.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's keeping some masks in the car, just in case. Tell him how we can protect and care for one another at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.
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