Dear Fellow Distancers:
I mentioned in my sermon yesterday my dislike for the term social distancing to describe the recommended limitations placed on gatherings and human contact in the outbreak of a pandemic. I don’t like the term because it overlaps with how the term social distance is used in psychology and sociology to describe society’s divisions by race, ethnicity, nationality, class, etc. In that context, we social distance all the time, sometimes due to socially constructed division, sometimes by our sheer dislike for diversity. Those forms of social distance reveal the ongoing pandemic of human distrust. To describe the measures currently recommended regarding our interaction, I prefer the term physical distancing, but no one called to ask what I thought.
In a conversation with Bob Conroy this past week he referred me to a letter from a rabbi who was instructing his congregation to be creative in bridging social distance. We live in an age filled with multiple tracks of communication, and we need not be severed by physical separation. In the flu epidemic of 1918, relatives of immigrants who were still in Europe could not know the condition of their family and loved ones for weeks or even months, the time it took to post a card or letter carried by steamship across the Atlantic. Now, within moments we can see a high-resolution live-action image of those for whom we care; we can hear their voices clearly and discern for ourselves if they are faring well. Add to that social media, texting and email, not to mention a good old-fashioned snail-mail card, and it becomes clear that physical distance need not mean isolation.
In our conversation I immediately recognized how much social connection was the simple by-product of other activities. Running into a church member at the grocery store is accidental, but at the same time, since we talked about a sick family member I’ve wondered if I could track that conversation as pastoral care. Caring was not my intent for going to the store; still, I squeezed in some caring in the produce section. I have to confess that my connection to others is driven often by an unrelated agenda. I quickly relate to those who happen to be on my way, sometimes in my way; but being intentional regarding social connection is another matter.
Our mutual ministry and care will require some attention. We won’t run into each other in the same way for a while, so we’ve got to pray and think and connect to people we will not otherwise see. Even with all our tools of communication, without vigilance our physical distancing will degenerate into social distance. Remember, too, how communication is a two-way street. Someone may be stepping out of their own comfort zone to reach out to you. It may be inconvenient because they have interrupted your agenda, but what could be more important than human contact?
Of course, our common project right now is for each of us to sacrifice mobility and social gathering in order to break the chain of transmitting this highly contagious virus. But I think there is also an opportunity for us to unchain our priorities as we challenge ourselves to seek human connection above personal convenience.
In Chapter 13 of the book of Leviticus, Moses catalogs all manner of skin conditions that required individuals to be separated from the community until they were deemed clean by priests trained in primitive dermatology. This isolation required the ten lepers in Luke 17.11-19 to announce their condition to Jesus at a distance. In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus healed all ten of them. Only one, the Samaritan, came back to Jesus to declare his gratitude.
In the days ahead, as we think of creative ways to socially bridge our physical separation, I believe we will discover not relief, but thankfulness when this ordeal has ended. As Jesus said, all were healed, but only the grateful are made whole.
Washing my hands and keeping my distance, I remain,
With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor
Dear Non-Conference Non-Attendees:
As you may know, a great deal of effort was put into planning and promoting a post-COVID conference scheduled for the second Saturday in March. Pre-registrations were underwhelming, so the week before the event I decided to cancel it. It’s bad form to have more breakout groups than attendees. I’m grateful for the presenters and preparers who were unable to showcase their no-doubt brilliant work; but discussing the impact of the pandemic four years out was clearly uninteresting to a wider public.
Upon reflection, I realize I shouldn’t be surprised. I conceived of an event designed to address the unprocessed grief we carry regarding what was lost during those dark months of soaring death rates and social isolation. I recognize now that a conference organized to address denial is doomed by its own irony.
Perhaps because I spent so much time thinking about the pandemic’s impact on our social psyche,