Lent in the Time of Coronavirus

Since I last updated this blog with two Lenten resolutions, the coronavirus crisis has escalated.  On the one hand, this has made it much easier to stay off caffeine, as most of the gatherings that I would go to which would normally require caffeine to keep me as alert as possible have now been put on hold.  A friend I would usually have lunch with needs to minimise social contact while looking after his sick uncle.  The bookshop where I work is closed for the duration.  Quiz nights, drama rehearsals, and even the small group of us who meet for Dungeons & Dragons, have all had to agree to stop meeting, as more and more people need to self-isolate.

By the same token, however, this has meant that I’ve been walking much less, simply because most of the things I would normally walk to are no longer happening.  During this Lent, our church had been planning to run several mid-week prayer meetings, as well as coffee mornings and soup lunches to give people more opportunities to socialise.  I had planned to see whether I could cope with going to them, as I’m more nearly spiritually and emotionally stable this year than I have been for a long time.

Now, though, the problem isn’t my mental health, but everyone’s physical health.  Church activity has provided an index of the nation’s response to coronavirus.  Three weeks ago, I was sulking about a member of the congregation whom I don’t know particularly well wanting to help me on with my coat after the service, as if I was a child who couldn’t dress myself.

I was ashamed of myself for losing my temper with someone who was only trying to help, and agonised over it for days afterwards over what I should do if someone behaves in a way that makes me uncomfortable.   Popular guidelines among Christians include ‘Ask yourself: What Would Jesus Do?’  But I don't know, because I don't have a good enough understanding of Jesus.  Another popular suggestion is: ‘Treat everyone as you would Jesus,’ but that sounds as though I’m supposed to behave as though everyone is God, and therefore necessarily right in everything they do.

It wasn't until the small hours of the following Thursday morning that I finally realised: the key is to treat people the way you would treat someone you love. That doesn't mean wanting the same level of intimacy from a stranger that I would from my Beloved Partner - but if the Beloved did something that annoyed me, I hope I'd explain to him, gently and tactfully, because I wouldn't want lack of communication to spoil our relationship.  I suppose this answer is obvious to any normal person, but I’m not normal, and so it takes me a while to work these things out.

Anyway, that problem is now a thing of the past.  Two weeks ago, we were advised that we might want to give alternative greetings instead of shaking hands, such as bumping elbow against elbow, hip against hip, ankle against ankle (though on second thoughts, the vicar added after looking at our mostly elderly congregation, that last might not be a good idea for those who weren’t steady on their feet), other variations, or avoiding physical contact, as we preferred.

Also, we were warned that coffee after the service, coffee mornings and soup lunches, weren’t happening any more, to avoid infection, and that the vicar would be very grateful if anyone who could find hand-sanitiser gel could bring some along.  Prayer meetings theoretically were going ahead, but when I went along to one, the door was locked.

One week ago, we were warned to avoid physical contact and just sign ‘peace’ to each other instead.  After all, it wasn’t a good idea to get too close to people who might be a bit croaky.

One letter-writer in the Church Times wrote that she hoped this would be the end of the whole custom of ‘the exchange of the Peace’, when people should be allowed to spend time in quiet contemplation at the holiest time of the service, instead of being forced to interact with the rest of the congregation.

I didn’t feel much sympathy with this view, even for an Anglican.  Shaking hands isn’t a trendy happy-clappy innovation, or something imported from the Roman Catholic church, but a toned-down, anglicised (and Anglicanised) version of an ancient tradition.  Christians in the first century used to greet each other by kissing, never mind shaking hands.  Christianity teaches that God dwells within us, which means that acknowledging your neighbours should be a sacrament in itself, not a distraction from individual worship.  Anyway, surely, private contemplation of God is something that people can do at home, or while out for a walk?

In practice, trying to greet everyone in the church is too hurried to be very reverent, but at least it encourages me to acknowledge everyone and try to remember their names.  After the service, I’d be busy trying to chat to just one or two close friends before they rush off.  If the people I am close friends with have already left, I might be more focused on being the first to the refreshments, and grumbling if I’m not allowed refills because there’s a limited supply of hot water in the thermos, which is also not very reverent.

And yet – churches should welcome everyone, which has to include people who dislike physical contact.  Some people feel as uncomfortable about shaking hands as I do about someone trying to put my coat on for me.  Surely we should be trying to accommodate their differences, instead of putting pressure on everyone to do the same thing?

Then, this Sunday, we heard that church services are cancelled.  But – and this is an important thing to note – this isn’t the same thing as the churches being closed.  And this is the subject of my next blog post.