I used to sell insurance. During that time, I learned that most car accidents occur within five minutes of home. Why? We’re overconfident in a familiar place. We feel protected in our comfort zone. If we’re returning home, we are often fatigued. The most common collision isn’t caused by another person: it is us driving, on autopilot, into a neighbor’s parked car. Ask me. I’ve done it.

At this point in the pandemic, I believe we are in a similar situation. As we return to “normal,” we think we’re safe, and our old habits return. Tired from a year of pandemic, we stop practicing the vigilance and best behaviors that kept us safe on our long and strange journey. We start spending too much time indoors, for too long of a time, with too many people. For avoiding the spread of a virus that is mutating to be more transmissible, that’s the equivalent of crashing into the parked car.

In fighting the spread of coronavirus, we are in a strange balancing point. In good news, the vaccine rollout is averaging three million doses per day. In bad news, new variants of the virus are driving an upward trend in infections in some states. In 2021, after four months of progress and promise, cases are rising again in Nevada and Arizona.

As of this writing, every county in our synod is at high to very high risk of exposure to Covid-19. This is not the time to let up on our time-proven best practices: avoiding indoor activities, nonessential travel, and events with more than a handful of people. The nationwide wildfires of the pandemic may be over, but if we ignore the smaller fires burning around us, our neighborhoods can be threatened again.

Remarkably, there is still much we don’t know about coronavirus, such as the degree that fully vaccinated people can spread the virus. The unknowns are just one more reason to be cautious.

But one year of pandemic has taught us one definite thing: indoor gatherings of multiple households are places where Covid spreads most effectively. Our church services are safest when conducted outside. It is what I recommend for those who are able. If you attend an indoor service, choose one without singing, where masks are worn, where households are at least six feet apart, and with limited numbers of people. For some, Sunday morning may be the most dangerous hour of the week.

At this point, I am fully vaccinated. I am cherishing the opportunities to gather safely with other vaccinated people. Yet I am waiting to fully return to the world I yearn to be in. I cannot risk being part of the chain of infections.

I miss people. Being present with people is the heart of my particular baptismal call. It completes the circle of my social, emotional, vocational, and spiritual well-being. Connecting with people of God at in-person gatherings make me whole. I know Christ through the body of the church.

That loss of connection brings me grief. I do not fully understand how this year of isolation has changed me. I will fully know what I’ve been missing when I’m able to shake hands and hug again, when I’m able to sing joyfully with others, when I’m able to look someone in the eyes, in glorious real time, and see the subtlety of facial expressions. And I will hold dear the sacrament of communion in a full church as never before.

The days of singing celebration are coming. Those days will also be times when we move our inner grief into communal mourning. Sharing the good and the bad is what our church does best. Those days will come. We’ll gather in ever-growing numbers and see new life return and grow in new ways.

Until then, with you, I wait. With you, I do my best to keep our neighbors safe. With you, I pray.

Grateful to share this vigil with you,

The Rev. Deborah K. Hutterer
Bishop
Grand Canyon Synod of the ELCA