One view from one half of a clergy couple

For the first time in six months, the congregation where I am under call will begin to try some worship inside the building together this Sunday. I am anxious about this and will be every time we meet, but probably not for the reasons you think.

Caring is the Job

I care about you. Part of being a pastor or deacon in the ELCA is caring about the well-being of the members of the congregation that has called us and the community in which the congregation ministers—both in this life and in the next. I can’t not care.

I care about what’s happening in your families. I care about your health issues. I care about your vacations. I care about your education. I care about how you read the Bible. I care about how you live your life as a reflection of God’s Word in the world. I care about the building we have inherited from generations past as a mission outpost for doing ministry. I care about the state of the restrooms. I care about the four families in the congregation who have been affected by this pandemic. I care about those who think the pandemic is a hoax. I don’t really care about the color of the carpet, or the paint color, or the wallpaper color, but I do care that they are in good repair and represent the congregation well when we have visitors. I care about your relationships with other members. I care about your relationships with people who aren’t members. I care about your callings, and how you discern them, and where they take you. I care about our music—although less about style. I care about our services. I care about the other staff and clergy in the congregation and area. I care about the witness we give to the gospel across denominational lines. I care.

Where the Job Takes Me

Because I care, that means I have to go into places like hospitals, nursing homes, and hospice centers. In this time of a global pandemic, I am thankful that the places I have done visits seem to be taking the necessary precautions seriously. However, we also know that by the time we know there has been an outbreak at a nursing home or care facility, others in the community will have also been infected. And at some point, that might be me.

I still have to do funerals, although they do look a bit different. And in times of grief, these new practices of social distancing and mask wearing have been not-too-surprisingly forgotten or pushed aside. I do know of at least one colleague who was infected at an outdoor funeral service because of this.

Where the job takes me means my family is put at risk every time I visit someone or do a funeral. This, too, is part of the job, but it means that we as a family don’t do much right now. This isn’t because I live in fear, but because I care. My job can put me at significant risk of becoming a vector of infection in the community, and I cannot risk that. As we try worship in the building again, this risk only increases, and I grow anxious because I care.

You will say that worship is also part of my job. And it is, which is why we have significantly altered our family’s life so I can create and produce two different services that publish at three different times across three different platforms, both old and new. I’ve developed new skills in video production and editing as the congregation’s main tech person. This way we still have worship every weekend. As is the case for most, we have discovered that we are reaching more people through these methods than would ever actually come and worship with us in the building. And as we begin adding to this some kind of worship in the building again, I grow anxious because I care about reaching as many people as we can with God’s word.

Who We Are

I am a pastor in the ELCA under call in a congregation thereof. At the national level, the average age of a member of an ELCA congregation means that based on age alone the average member is already at greater risk from this pandemic than the general public. And while I have not done the math because I don’t want to ask impolite questions of my elders, knowing the members of the congregation where I am under call, it’s a safe bet that our average age is higher than the national average for the ELCA.

As a pastor, I am often included in conversations about the health of members. Through these conversations, I know that many of our members have underlying and ongoing health concerns beyond age that put them at higher risk in this time of pandemic.

I also know that people in these two groups will be the first who want to be back in the building, and so I grow anxious because I care.

While we finally have everything set and the personnel hired to gather inside following appropriate guidelines, I know this congregation. The congregation loves to sing together. Guess what we won’t be doing. And the congregation loves to hug. Guess what we won’t be doing. And the congregation loves to stand around after worship, talking and taking refreshment. Guess what we won’t be doing. I know what we will be doing in the building won’t be what people want, so I grow anxious because I care.

Being Caring

This post is not about judging congregations who are doing something other than what we’re doing. Every congregation and every community will deal with this emergency based on the gifts they have and the challenges they face. There will be diversity in caring responses.

The congregation where I am under call has had a live radio broadcast since the 1970’s, so when this all first started, we still had a way for people to worship together. We had also installed the equipment needed to start live-streaming worship, so we started using it sooner than expected. Because it is a downtown church, we don’t have any sizable grassy areas to gather for outside worship, and with the radio show, something needs to go out over the sound system for the broadcast. Prerecording services for broadcast on radio and social media has become our mainstay in worship in this time of emergency. And we are thankful to God for these gifts!

After a time, we tried drive-through distribution of communion after the end of the radio broadcast—something the congregation’s building is rather well set up to do. With the Great Thanksgiving happening live at the end of the radio broadcast going right into the distribution, my theological and liturgical mind was mostly mollified. This way people were at least able to come to the building, see some friendly faces, and receive communion. We have been doing this on first and third Sundays at lower local risk levels in case something did go wrong. Thank the Lord nothing has, but I am still anxious every time we do it—especially if I’ve had to do a visit or funeral in the previous ten to fourteen days.

Now we’re moving to doing this distribution weekly, with an inside option at a different time. Will things be fine? Probably. Will the people who come follow the guidelines? Probably. Will the people who come for the inside service be disappointed by the service? Probably. Will people who are staying home at this time be angry that we’re meeting inside the building? Probably. And I am anxious because I care.

Being Cautious

With pandemic fatigue and the six month wall both settled in, this is when I must be overly cautious. If I’m not, then at best, I will have to spend more time doing visits in hospitals and nursing homes. At worst, I get sick, and my family gets sick, and the congregation gets sick, and other people in the community get sick, and whatever healthy members of the congregation there are have to figure out how to do worship when I’m in the hospital…

We are all tired of the guidelines. We all want things to get back to something like normal. We’re all sick of it. But I don’t have a choice on being cautious. It’s part of being a pastor, now more than ever. And with everything that could go wrong, anxiety is also part of being a pastor now.

So I ask your help.

Don’t sow discord by publicly insisting on social media or in the local gossip chain that things must happen the way you want. There’s a real chance you don’t know all of the challenges keeping your congregation from doing something in the building. If you want to know, contact your pastor.
Follow the guidelines, both from public health officials and the congregation. These guidelines exist, especially from the congregation, because we care both about you and about everyone else.
Be kind to your congregational leadership. Clergy, council, vestry, whatever the name or office of people who have to make decisions for your congregation, they’re dealing with something we haven’t seen since 1918. We are doing the best we can for everyone because we care.
Be cautious and at least a little anxious. If you let your guard down, it won’t affect just you—especially if you’re meeting in person in your congregation or in the community.

We will get through this by supporting one another and sharing each other’s burdens. I believe you care—and about more than your own self-interest. Please alleviate some of my anxiety and prove me right.