Dear Southwest Conference companions,
I know many of you are hikers (I see so many beautiful photos from hikes taken here and around the world on your Facebook pages – like this one from Michael Bush!). I don’t claim to be a hiker, but I have taken a hike or two, or fifty, in my life. We all know the feeling of making a gallant effort to hike up a hill or a mountain path to get to the top and be rewarded with a spectacular view. We probably also know the feeling of finally getting to the top, rounding over the rise…only to find, not a spectacular view, but a whole other hill or mountain to scale before truly getting to the peak, if we have the energy.
That’s what I’m feeling right now. We’ve wandered in this mountainous wilderness of pandemic for 17 long months. Our sights have been set on the promise of readily available vaccines that would finally enable us to gain the long-hoped for goal of opening up again, “returning to normalcy” again, hugging, meeting, eating, and singing with each other again face to face and unafraid. And we thought we had it! We breathed new breaths of relief as shots went into our arms. We gingerly began to remove our masks in some places, then in others, and then we even began to forget to take them with us when we went out.
But, as we were rounding the rise, we’ve been met with yet another mountain blocking our way, our view…our hope. Yet another ascent faces us. We’re not done. Not only do we have to continue to climb and journey through this pandemic, but the Delta variant is flaring like a forest fire all around us.
On this journey, we’ve known we’ve been a divided people. We haven’t been able to work together in camaraderie, building strength and endurance through mutual support. There are laggers and there are those trying to rush; there are resisters; there are those that are strong and those that are vulnerable; there the criticizers and the encouragers, the fear-mongers and the faith-growers, the caregivers, and the risk-takers. There are those of us who have had to pack the pandemic burdens on top of the already-too-heavy pack of burdens being carried. There are those who are so used to traveling unencumbered that even a small ounce of burden is something to complain about. We are a motley bunch of humans on this tiny blue island earth trying to find our way through it all. We are tired, exhausted, and longing for relief. And now, we are faced with the realization that our journey is continuing, more complex and divisive than even it was before.
But this is the wilderness journey. This is spiritual journey. It is never under our control. The very lack of control we have in the wilderness is precisely what God uses to deconstruct us, strip away the old habits and vestiges of what holds us in bondage, and then, yes, reshapes and reforms us into new creations – but not quickly (40 years, remember?). We, as spiritual travelers and faith communities on this journey, are smack dab in a wilderness experience of biblical proportions. We can place our hope in new vaccines, or that somehow, we will be able to get back to what is familiar. But when our human-created hopes and expectations fail us - we get grumpy and irritable with ourselves and our leaders; we can be “stiff-necked” when we feel out of control and powerless, “hangry” when resources and energy seem scarce. As leaders, we feel exhausted, pushed to the edge of our endurance. angry at God and failing institutions for getting us into this desert and abandoning us. And…of course…the grief. Grief as pervasive and persistent as the desert heat. For some of us, grief is drying out our bodies and our spirits to the point of dry bones.
I fully realize, as does the Executive Board, that this is the context in which we offer an update on COVID19 recommended guidelines. We realize we are giving you not the anticipated spectacular mountaintop view, but a view of the greater challenge of the path ahead. We are asking that you not open up to an expansive, unencumbered freedom…but double down on your faithful attention to core values of care, compassion and adaptive responsibility; to continue to sacrifice comfort and convenience for the welfare of the most vulnerable among us.
The good news? Yes! We are desert people! We are desert navigators by faith, and by our own geography. We are also God’s people and have God’s story as our map. God’s story and our own experience show us time and again, that while the desert seems bleak and barren, to the Moses-leaders and desert shepherds and nomads, the geography is actually fully alive. There are sustaining gifts that appear in the desert wilderness. That though often hidden, the desert is teaming with life and sustaining resources. It is a place of God’s longing and even romance, where God’s love is expressed most profoundly, and God’s new shaping and forming is done.
So, let’s sit down and rest a moment, drink some water, maybe pile some stones to mark this place and time as sacred and filled with God's Presence. Then, let’s tighten our boots, shift our packs, let go of a few things that have become non-essential, look realistically at the path ahead, chart our course, and continue the hike. One foot in front of the other.
With travel blessings and grace for the journey!
Barb
Rev. Dr. Barbara Doerrer-Peacock (she, her)
Acting Conference Minister