Notes from the quarantine

I went to church on the computer this morning, not necessarily unusual for me, except today there was only the ministerial staff and an eerily large, empty church—no choir, no congregation. Knowing the circumstances made the service even more inspirational. Music was provided by two soloists; the senior minister welcomed the distanced audience and preached, appropriately, on the subject of breathing and the breath of God. Other ministerial staff read scripture, led us in prayer and communion. Russ Peterman suggested juice and a cracker for communion but said coffee and bagel would do. For all that it was a bit casual and a lot removed from the usual, the service was reverent and spiritual. And the staff is being creative about ways to bring us together, as a church, as we remain socially isolated. Tonight, I am proud to be a member of Fort Worth’s University Christian Church.

UCC’s distance programming would not have been possible of course even ten years ago. The question lingers—how much does social media help flatten the curve of disease spread, or does it help spread the disease by spreading panic and anxiety? Food for thought.

I saw a church on TV this morning that had used police yellow caution tape creatively to block pews so that parishioners were forced to sit several feet apart.

I am continually impressed by messages on many lists—my neighborhood newsletter, writing groups I belong to, even Facebook—of offers to help others. People are jumping to look out for elderly neighbors and others who perhaps cannot get groceries or other needed supplies. A good friend, only slightly younger than me, said today her physician neighbor checks on her almost daily and has offered to bring groceries. It’s a gesture being repeated on a wide scale across the country.

Of course, there are jerks. There is a man—in Tennessee, I believe—who has stockpiled 17,700 bottles of hand sanitizer. He intended to mark them up ten times or more and sell online. But Amazon and then eBay cut him off. Now he doesn’t know what to do with what he once thought was his nest egg. I say he’s a despicable man, taking advantage of a health crisis, and the least he could do to redeem himself is to donate every one of those to the homeless and various shelters.

Reaction around the world is intense, but I love that in Florence, Italy, people are singing patriotic songs from their balconies. In London, the government is considering ordering the elderly to stay inside for four months.

Here reaction varies from “Get on with your life,” once a philosophy espoused by the president, to strict self-isolation. The president has gone from a January 22 statement that all is under control to the recent declaration of a national emergency.

It’s interesting—and a bit frightening—to think how this health crisis is changing the way we live. We will probably never go back to the old normal. We will find out that working remotely works, we will perhaps worship more online, distance living may become more common. Whether that’s a good thing or not is up for grabs—only time will tell.

Me? I’m a happy camper, doing some research on a book. And I have a list of things to cook. I’m staying in, not welcoming anyone but my family.