It's been five years since lockdown
Some things have permanently shifted as a result.
Five years ago this week the world was shutting down to help mitigate the spread of a new, potentially lethal virus called SARS-CoV-2. If you are experiencing the physical and emotional sensations you typically associate with grief or trauma, this anniversary could be why.
The pandemic fundamentally altered our lives in the short term, shifting routines, finances, relationships, and access to services. Even though the preventative measures and treatments developed by scientists have now allowed us to go back to more of a normal existence, there are some aspects of the pandemic that have fundamentally affected who we are individually and collectively. Here are some of the lasting changes for me:
My sense of "that can never happen here." Just a few days before the NBA shut down and college basketball conference tournaments abruptly ended - could there be any clearer signs that something cataclysmic was happening? - I was watching news about Italy going into lockdown. There were shots of empty piazzas, and I felt both concern for the people of Italy and relief that I would never have to experience that. In my naivete I simply could not fathom stay-at-home orders in the U.S. I would soon have to, though, and I became aware both of how stable an existence I’d lived and that that privilege was not a given. (The imploding of my false sense of security was helpful preparation for facing the current dismantling of the U.S. government.)
My belief that love of neighbors is foundational for all Christians. All my life, in both evangelical and progressive contexts, the Golden Rule was an emphasis. And yet, when there were simple steps (like masks and physical distancing) we could take to protect others from an illness that didn’t yet have a cure or a vaccine, so many Christians instead insisted on their “personal liberties.” That was a big shock to my theological system.
My priorities. I set more boundaries around work so that I could be more present to my family after work hours - and sometimes during, since all three of us were working and schooling from home. I refused to dress to impress rather than to be comfortable ever again. (I have forever renounced hard pants.) I started to reevaluate what I was looking for in a church, especially when we realized we’d have a choice in churches with my husband’s eventual departure from the United Methodist appointment system.
Here’s what has shifted in many clergy and churches I have talked with:
Patterns of engagement. The frequency of church attendance was already on the decline before Covid, and it was becoming harder to fill out rosters of volunteers and leaders in congregations. But Covid amplified and accelerated these trends, and churches are still trying to adjust. Additionally, many congregations added ways to be in community online when it was too dangerous to gather in person, which allowed people to participate in churches from a distance. These virtual connections have been lifelines for those who were previously isolated. At the same time, they have led to the lament I hear often that “people just want to watch worship in their pajamas instead of come to church” and added more layers of work to already overtaxed staff and volunteers.
Levels of overt friction. This markedly increased in the ramp-up to the 2016 U.S. presidential election, and the tension made it harder for churches to have healthy and helpful discussions about Covid precautions in 2020 and beyond. Once we were into the pandemic, conflicts of all kinds that would have been manageable if we could be in the same space to talk about them got blown up into much bigger deals. The difficulties have continued through another hard election season and into the current polarized reality. All of this has laid bare the fact that we have too often leaned into comfort in our congregations rather than building muscle for having hard conversations in healthy ways.
Pastors’ re-evaluation of their vocations. Covid was hard on us all. Clergy were no exception. Most ministers pivoted hard when everything went into lockdown, moving ministries online and finding creative ways to keep people connected to one another and God. They did so willingly - and without realizing (at first) how long we’d all be distanced and how hard it would be to redistribute the labor once it was safe to regather. As a result, there has been so much turnover in pastoral positions, and many clergy have been considering how they can live out their callings in settings that don’t expect them to be available 24/7 and require them to carry the emotional weight of so many people’s traumas.
We were all so ready for a return to what was that I wonder how well we have processed how we are now different than we were five years ago. While the five-year anniversary of lockdown is probably more of a time for self-reflection and pastoral care, it might be important to begin thinking about what still lingers from the pandemic experience, whether that’s refreshed commitments or low-boil conflict that could come out with the next stressor. Otherwise, we could simply pass on our Covid baggage to succeeding generations who didn’t live through or won’t really remember the pandemic.