I remember sitting in a nursing home in Catonsville, Maryland, with my aged Aunt Inez years ago. Born in 1894, she had seen a great deal in her many years of life, and I was just in my 20s at the time. She shared with me her many memories of years gone by, especially about the flu pandemic of 1918.
She was about my age at that time, and there were no vaccines, no cure, just a call for people to stay in isolation and in prayer. She said that that virus affected, in some way, every family in the little town of Lansdowne, Maryland, where she taught school. In the spring of the following year, they counted their losses and grieved a deep and long grief.
At the time, I thought this was an unbelievable tale of how things were in the “old days.” I never imagined that one day, I could be living during a devastating pandemic.
It has been a long year since we first got the news of this worldwide crisis and began to close down churches for in-person worship. Last March, we could hardly have imagined that a year later, we would be grieving more than 500,000 American lives lost to this deadly coronavirus.
Like my Aunt Inez, few, if any, of us have been spared the knowledge of someone in our lives — family member, friend, colleague, role model, church member, anyone — who lost a battle to this awful virus. We share a common grief, and too many of us carry burdens of sorrow and helplessness.
I want to express my deep appreciation for pastors, laity and churches, who have ministered and offered compassion and relief to countless numbers of people in their communities.
I also call us to care for ourselves in these stressful times, regularly observing the Sabbath and engaging in spiritual, physical and emotional self-care. Rest in the promise that “God will go with you and will never leave you or forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6).
Strive to infuse life into this season of death. The church is founded on the resurrection of Christ and the sure and certain promise of life abundant and life everlasting. We rely on resilient life that springs from the jaws of death, on joy that comes the morning after and on hope that burns brightly, even in the midnight hour.
We are uniquely positioned to be hope-givers in this world through the Gospel that we proclaim in word and deed at this crucial time. Be a “resurrection hope-giver” for someone who is bound by deep grief. Never forget the power of simple words of kindness and acts of compassion.
My Aunt Inez also told me that after the long siege of the pandemic of 1918, instead of being buried in inconsolable grief, the community embraced faith that spurred on a wave of community development and prosperity.
Likewise, our sobering experiences with all these deaths can be a springboard to new life. Be a part of the new life that rises from this unique and terrible time in the history of our nation and the world.
Bishop Peggy A. Johnson has led nearly 900 churches in the Philadelphia area, comprised of the Eastern Pennsylvania and Peninsula-Delaware Annual Conferences of the United Methodist Church, since 2008.
