Church in a Time of Corona Virus

On Sunday, we hugged and kissed and laid our bare hands on each other--in nonabusive ways, I hasten to add.  Thursday our pastor was sending church leadership a variety of writing:  a message from the mayor of the town where our church is located, written communication from Lutheran bishops, and a draft of the letter that our pastor will send to the congregation detailing the changes that are about to go into effect.

There won't be much touching going forward.  We are suspending the passing of the peace until further notice.  People setting out food for coffee hour will wear gloves.

Part of me understands.  I'm at a conference that was almost cancelled 48 hours before it began for fear of contagion.  I'm watching the news about the disease, and unlike some of the nation's highest officials, I'm taking the science behind it all fairly seriously, even as I am unable to stop touching my face.

Part of me has always felt uncomfortable with some of the opportunities for touching at church.  Not everyone welcomes a hug, and not everyone is good at respecting boundaries.  More than once I've said, "I have a cold, so I'm not touching anyone today" to avoid touch that I didn't want--it seemed more polite than doing some schooling in appropriate ways of passing the peace.

And yet, I know that the right kind of touch can bring healing.  I'm sad that we will stop anointing foreheads with oil, even as I realize how many germs my fingers can deliver with that oil.

I'm not one of those churchy types who ignores the science in the hopes that the Holy Spirit will protect us from microbes.  If I drink from the common cup, I know the risks.  If I let people touch me or if I touch others, I know about the germs that come along for the ride.

I know that my pastor has made the right call to step up protective measures, especially since our aging members of our congregation is likely to be more at risk than healthy folks at midlife like me.  It's a sobering sign of the times.