Today, I’m hoping we can have a little heart to heart. This worship series took root in the tremendous loss that we have faced as a church, among countless churches, in the midst of this pandemic. We are a people of ritual and tradition. We are a people that gather and relishes community. We have a habit of doing what we’ve always done. In fact, among the clergy, there’s always space for a competition of the things parishioners tell us “We’ve always done” and then, by extension, that we cannot meddle with.
Suspending our traditions is hard. Not coming to this place to worship and be together is hard. For many of us, the church is our community. You are our family and friends. And if we can’t be here, it’s like we can’t be anywhere with anyone. There are options, at least now that shelter in
place orders have been lifted, but we also know from science and research that big gatherings like church are easy places to contract the virus. So, we have to be extra cautious in coming back.
And that takes some getting used too. I’ve taken a lot of deep breaths and shared a number of tears lamenting what once was but can’t be for now.
And...I’ve been inspired. Learning that we couldn’t do what we’ve always done has forced creativity. Once I could reconcile and accept the loss of what isn’t, I could ask, “Well, then, what we do?” “How will we worship?” We can use piano, guitar, banjo, drums, string instruments, dancers, artists, spoken word, drama….there are so many options. And the really exciting thing in my mind is how gifted you all are. It’s not just a pie in the sky dream of what worship could be. I know you by name. I know who dances (or at least some of you). I know who paints. I know who acts. And I have no hesitation asking you to be a part of this new thing. (I also love when you volunteer before I even ask!!!) Maybe in exploring what is possible we let go of some old things that don’t represent who we are or what we are about anymore. Maybe in this process of pruning, we free ourselves for some new life.
I know many of us have been looking forward to when we can come back and do church like we used to. And, I have to say, it will likely look and sound different. I’m not sure we’re going back. In fact, I know we’re not. We are called to move forward. To look ahead to the future and to look with expectancy and hope.
It’s easy to look back. We know what’s there. Or at least what we remember of what’s there. But, we can’t return there. We can only go forward. So, we can choose to do that knowingly and willingly. Or we can drag our feet, or curl up and grouse about it. But either way, there’s no going back.
I don’t know what the future will look like. I wish I did. I wish I could tell you a date for when we could gather, even as a small group, socially distanced, skipping pews...but that’s not clear yet either. We’re working on it. I promise, and there are a lot of variables to consider and plan for. Including staying online for anyone who needs to continue to stay home and stay safe.
What I do know is that the God we worshipped before, is the same God we worship now. The God who loved us then loves us now. The God who helped us through hard things in the past is the one helping us through this hard thing in the present. And God made us the body of Christ through his Son Jesus is the same God who draws us together wherever we are gathered.
Some things are changing. And we are learning how to change with them. And some things ground us and allow us to breathe as they remain constant--and that thing is our Lord and Savior. Thanks be to God. Amen.