How are you managing all of the changes that have happened in our lives since the middle of March? I remember seeing news reports from Italy in the early spring that showed people lined up, socially distanced, outside of grocery stores and thinking, “Well, that will never happen here.” Remember the simple advice to wash your hands and we will all be fine? Remember when your session worried about how to reach out to people beyond your church doors and then, in the blink of an eye, did it electronically? Remember when you collected a few boxes of macaroni and cheese inside your church door in a shopping cart as your food ministry and thought that was enough, only to adapt now to helping people in new ways so that they do not go hungry?

I am fine when I am dealing with the minutiae of each day. Do I have a mask in my purse as I head to the drug store? Exactly what do I need, where is it in the store, how will I get in and out quickly? How can I change my grocery shopping habits so that I do not just run to the store every time I need something but, instead, make a list and order it so it can be picked up? What new adventure can I have electronically with my grandchildren whom I have only seen once in person since the end of January?

But when I think about the big picture, it is still a little overwhelming. How will churches survive months of not meeting in person? Will people come back once they feel it is safe? What will it mean for congregations if potlucks and coffee hour and youth group lock-ins and mission trips to faraway places are on hold for years?

In uncertain times, we often turn to the texts that give us guidance and hope. Perhaps, like me, you have turned to the great sage, Dr. Seuss, to be reminded of the places we will go. There we are reminded that we have “brains in our heads and feet in our shoes.” God has given us the tools we need to address the challenges before us.

Sometimes we need to be reminded of that simple fact. “You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.” No kidding! Talk about the streets not being marked. . . But, our constitution in the PCUSA helps to mark those streets for us. We have the Great Ends of the Church. They are the road map to what we are to do in whatever circumstances present themselves: proclaim the gospel in a way that reminds all people of God’s salvation; take care of our children and the children of the world; worship; preserve of the truth, not letting the vagaries of the present age deflect us from the truth that God loves us and there is nothing we can do about it; promote justice for all people; show the world what it means to live into the hope that comes into the world through Jesus.

Dr. Seuss reminds us that we might get stuck in the “waiting place” where people are just waiting for something to happen, for someone else to change things, for the world to make sense the way it once did. But then he reminds us we must move forward.  We must leave that place behind and strike out on the road again because our mountain is waiting.

We are all managing our lives differently because of Covid-19. I have a “clean” and “dirty” bag for masks at my house, for instance. I could never have imagined such a thing a year ago.

One of the ways congregations are most affected by this kind of vigilance has to do with practices surrounding worship. If you are a pastor or session member or a member of the worship committee; or if you are involved in the health profession in any way, you have probably been in multiple meetings trying to decide what is right when it comes to worshiping in person. Of course, while the leadership is spending time on these details, some of your members are wondering if they even want to go back into the sanctuary where they can’t fast forward. . . .

For instance, how will you celebrate communion? Some people decide during flu season each year that it is better to pass little pieces of bread and cups of juice than to have communion by intinction. I have heard that you actually come into contact with more germs by passing a plate that so many people have touched. Now we are way beyond that. Who will actually touch the elements? How will those who commune receive bread and juice—or only one?

What will you do at the door after worship? The most vulnerable person there, of course, is the pastor. When I was a pastor I would sometimes have someone transfer a damp tissue from their right to their left hand so that they could shake hands with me. Thanks. I have always washed my hands immediately after greeting at the door. Now there will be no greeting at the door. People will probably be dismissed by rows or in some other way so that there is no gathering at the door and the pastor certainly should not stand there to greet people, even without touching. I think that, deep down, this has been one of the hardest aspects of all of this for pastors. They are not getting that immediate touch with many members of their congregation each week. And, if they are honest, they miss the almost constant affirmation that they receive at the door. So many weeks without a constant stream of people saying, “Good sermon, pastor!”

There will be no passing of the peace in the usual way. Maybe you will wave. Maybe you will make the peace sign. But, you will not shake hands or hug each other for some months to come. If you look at Facebook you may have seen some memes from introverts like this one: “Stay home and don’t interact with people? I have been preparing for this my whole life!”

Speaking as an introvert, the whole idea of the passing of the peace has always been awkward for me, especially as a presbytery leader worshiping in a congregation where I don’t really know anyone. It is the one thing that we are forced to do in worship. If you do not want to sing, don’t sing. If you do not want to pray, don’t pray. If you don’t stand up and shake hands with people during the passing of the peace (before our current vigilance), people will think that you are an awful snob or that there is something horribly wrong with you.

I have read that our obsession with valuing extroversion over introversion is fairly new in the history of humanity. When most people lived agrarian lives and never traveled very far from home, they were not judged by the way they interacted with strangers or those with whom they did not have business to conduct. But now we value the friendly person who “has never met a stranger.”

Do you know the old joke about Presbyterians and change? “How many Presbyterians does it take to change a lightbulb?” My favorite answer is “Who said anything about change?” Another one I have heard is “My grandma gave that lightbulb and so we cannot change it. We will just have to put up with a dimly lit room.”

But look at what you have done in the last three months! None of us could have predicted a year ago or even on March 1 this year how much would need to change so quickly. And you did it. Presbyterians, who are known for creating committees, and making statements that do not lead to anything happening, and sitting in the same pew every Sunday for decades—even Presbyterians pivoted.

Your session has met more than any of them ever wanted to meet to make decisions about the building and worship and the staff and applying for government funding (who could have imagined that!) and what to do with the preschool and the mission program and on and on.

Your pastor figured out how to use their phone or that video camera that they hadn’t touched in years or a conference call number or the US mail to keep in touch with parishioners and conduct worship in a way that, in many cases, is reaching more people than doing things the old way ever did.

Your Sunday School teachers and staff have found ways to help parents fill the long hours at home with children by providing resources and reading them stories on zoom.

Your musicians have navigated the choppy waters of licenses and sound-mixing and microphones that work well in a sanctuary with people in it but sound like an echo chamber without those people to provide you with beautiful and inspiring music. You could continue this list for your own congregation into the myriad ways you have changed.

As we migrate closer to our church buildings, let’s not forget how resilient we have been. Keeping in touch at a distance is not the only challenge we face. The world is still not all that interested in what we have to say. People may be even less likely to get dressed up and travel to a sanctuary and dedicate two or three hours of their Sunday to worship after what they have experienced. We still have big, old buildings that are using huge amounts of our church budgets or falling into disrepair. The challenges we faced before the pandemic will be with us when we settle even farther into a new normal. It may seem like things really don’t change.

But here is what has changed. We know we are resilient. We know we can act fast. We know that we are brave enough to launch into something we do not know very much about. We know that our leadership teams and sessions can make decisions without studying something for years. That is new information to many congregations.