What Should We Be Learning in the Time of COVID-19?

When all of my speaking engagements got cancelled in early March, I remember feeling a certain relief.

“Wow,” I said to myself, “I could use a rest.”

As it turns out, I have been even busier than I would have been otherwise because every organization and network I’m part of has become even more active than before as we respond to a surge in requests for help in coping with the COVID-19 crisis. Many of us are part of this veritable laptop army of peace and goodness activists.

COVID is putting high demands on all of us, including …

Health care professionals, essential store and service workers, and many others who risk their own health every day to show up, protect the vulnerable, help the infected, and serve the common good.

Moms and/or dads having to work from home while caring for and homeschooling their kids — too much for anyone to handle!

People with special vulnerability to the virus who must take extra precautions and deal with the real threat to their survival.

People who have lost loved ones, are losing loved ones, or are caring for loved ones who are sick.

People who have lost their jobs, or who were unemployed or underemployed before this crisis began.

People whose income depends on people coming together for concerts, plays, movies, meals, and liturgies.

People who struggle with anxiety in the best of times, who now are barely able to make it from one minute to another.

With all the added stress, it’s easy for us to miss the lessons and opportunities this moment can offer us. That’s why I’m always trying to keep one ear open to the voice of the Spirit, either in my own heart or in the heartfelt poetry and prose of others.

You may have heard the saying, “In the school of life, first you take the test and then you learn the lesson.” I’d like to learn the lesson during this test, and not have to repeat anything like it again.

Of many lessons we can learn, here’s one that I feel is of primary importance: we can’t return to the old normal.

Yes, the old normal was better for most of us than the current situation: having jobs, having a routine, having an in-person social life, having income, not fearing for the welfare of our parents - or ourselves, being free to travel, etc., etc.

But there was more wrong with the old normal than we realized.

For one thing, it left us vulnerable to pandemics like COVID-19. Our leaders were too focused on other dangers to take this one as seriously as they should have, even though experts were sounding the alarm.

For another, it provided quality health care for a few, mediocre health care for many, and little or no health care for most. Now, it turns out, the richest of the rich are at the mercy of viruses that spread among the rest of us.

On top of that, it invested trillions of dollars in weapons that injure and kill, while investing too little in institutions and services that promote and protect health.

In addition, the old normal was framed by deeply embedded systems of white supremacy and oligarchy, leaving so many outside and behind.

Beyond all that, the old normal was unsustainable because of its baseline of harm to the planet we all share.

And to mention just one more, in the old normal, too many people acted as if lines on a map could protect us from our greatest dangers.

The old normal was based on a lie: that we are all islands, little monads of self-reliant self-interest, living in an economy that will protect us from all evil if we just work hard enough and make enough money.

In this lie, our survival depends on self-interest.

We can’t afford to return to that lie.

In the new normal that we can create together, we can lean into a truth that we are all learning in our bones thanks to this crisis: we are all connected, participants in local, regional, and global societies, living in an ecosystem that requires us to seek the common good with one another and with all our fellow creatures.

Or to put it more simply: our survival depends on love, on mutual concern, on being our brother and sister’s keeper, on a common commitment to the common good.

This is exactly the logic that I see in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5 - 7. At the heart of this moral masterpiece, Jesus tells his followers to stop imitating the empire-builders (i.e. the Gentiles, meaning the Romans who are occupying their land like a human pandemic).  Instead, Jesus says to imitate the flocks of birds flying by overhead and the wildflowers swaying in the meadow nearby. In other words, he tells us all to take this opportunity to defect from the status quo of our society and its social and economic systems. He tells us to transfer our trust to the natural ecosystem of God, to rejoin the larger system of the divine economy which he calls the kingdom or empire or commonwealth of God.

This new reality could become the new normal, he said, if we would just be willing to repent (or rethink everything) and believe.

In this new normal, rather than seeking first food, clothing, and shelter for ourselves as anxious individuals, we seek first the common good (what Jesus calls “the commonwealth and justice of God” in 6:33). Without the common good, nothing will go sustainably right, and with it, there will be enough for all.

In the coming days, I know we all will miss “the good old days” of normalcy before the quarantine. And there will be many good reasons to feel this nostalgia.

But nostalgia is not a good survival strategy. When we feel exasperation about the present, rather than wishing for the past, what if we did something a little more creative?

What if we imagined how the new economy we build after the current and coming chaos could be truly new and better, not just a return to the same-old same-old?

What if we take serious stock of the failures of our current governments and leaders, not just to hold individuals and parties to account for their failures (which, no doubt, must be done to a degree), but more, to imagine what kind of systemic changes could be initiated that make more sense in a world like ours?

What if we admit that our current approaches to health care aren’t working, and start imagining creating a new and better system that makes sense for the reality of a globally connected world?

What if we opened the way for a new approach to church — to imagine what kind of church we need for the world of tomorrow, just as our founders and reformers did in past centuries?

What if we threw out the old conservative notion that “government isn’t the solution, it’s the problem,” along with the old more liberal notion that “government alone is the solution” — and instead, imagined a new normal where government plays a pivotal role along with every other human institution in not just remembering the past and governing for the present, but also in preparing for the future, including the inevitability of climate change and our need to flatten the curve before it’s too late?

Those are just a few dimensions of the old normal that we must leave behind and the new normal that we must create together.

Of course, in the coming weeks and months, many of us will simply have our hands full surviving.

But in the midst of surviving, we can nurture a vision for the future we are surviving for.

~ Brian McLaren

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About the Author
Brian D. McLaren is an author, speaker, activist, and public theologian. A former college English teacher and pastor, he is a passionate advocate for “a new kind of Christianity” –  just, generous, and working with people of all faiths for the common good. He is an Auburn Senior Fellow and a leader in the Convergence Network, through which he is developing an innovative training/mentoring program for pastors, church planters, and lay leaders called Convergence Leadership Project. He works closely with the Center for Progressive Renewal/Convergence, the Wild Goose Festival and the Fair Food Program‘s Faith Working Group. His most recent joint project is an illustrated children’s book (for all ages) called Cory and the Seventh Story. Other recent books include: The Great Spiritual Migration, We Make the Road by Walking, and Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road? (Christian Identity in a Multi-Faith World).
Brian is a popular conference speaker and a frequent guest lecturer for denominational and ecumenical leadership gatherings – across the US and Canada, Latin America, Europe, Africa, and Asia. He has written for or contributed interviews to many periodicals, including Leadership, Sojourners, Tikkun, Worship Leader, and Conversations and is a frequent guest on television, radio, and news media programs, he has appeared on All Things Considered, Larry King Live, Nightline, On Being, and Religion and Ethics Newsweekly. His work has also been covered in Time, New York Times, Christianity Today, Christian Century, the Washington Post, Huffington Post, CNN.com, and many other print and online media.

Question & Answer

Q: By Kim

How does a Christian who thinks she is on the Spiritual/Interfaith path – evolving, becoming, opening evermore – deal with the death of a loved one rooted in “traditional” Christian ideas about The Afterlife? I find myself desperately hoping there is a physical Heaven – a childhood concept that I thought I had moved beyond;  because I want to hold Dad’s hand again someday, and I want to believe he is with my cousin and dear friends who have died. It suddenly feels more secure and yet non-existent. I am surprised, saddened, and grieving (thank goodness).

A: By Kevin G. Thew Forrester, PhD

Dear Kim,

I feel the sadness, perhaps connected to a sense of loss, in your questions. Isn’t it amazing that we can “think” we are on a path and want to “believe” something, but our heart and body are in other places? The path we are actually on is the one we are experiencing in our body. And this is neither right nor wrong. It simply is what is. Neurologically we now know that for all the signals sent from the neurons in our head down to our body, that number is dwarfed by the stream of neurological traffic upwards from the body to the head. In other words, it is a losing battle, and it does indeed feel like a battle, to convince our heart and body that reality is different than our experience. You are on a Spiritual/Interfaith path, which is richer and more mysterious than our mind can conceive.

Where I invite you to begin is with your experience of sadness and loss. This experience is much more than a thought – it is sacred and fertile ground for you. Begin with where you experience the sadness/loss in your body. Follow that thread of your experience, by sensing/feeling into it. For example, you might discover that there is tightness in your solar plexus. The head will want to solve and judge and categorize. But practice being curious. Honor your not knowing. Practice simply honoring and holding. See where your soulful-attention is led; that is what I mean by following the thread of your experience. Respect, also, your sense of want, honor it, and sense into its origin in your experience. Let your mind drop down into your heart and body and be guided by your heart-centered curious inquiry. This takes courage, for you will move in, through, and beyond beliefs which are held out of fear. And oddly, “hope” often takes us away from our present experience and trusting in that experience to teach and guide us. Holy Hope is the realization that in the Present, which is the Reign of God, there is present what you need. In this spiritual practice you won’t be egoically vanquishing fear, or getting what you want; you won’t be trying to stake out a position ahead of time. What you will be doing is trusting your own experience and touching what it is your soul is longing for. Who knows what you will discover as you courageously trust? Perhaps there will be the realization that there is already a connection with your Dad that is deeper and sweeter than anything your mind might imagine.

~ Kevin G. Thew Forrester, PhD

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About the Author
Kevin G. Thew Forrester, Ph.D. is an Episcopal priest, a student of the Diamond Approach for over a decade, as well as a certified teacher of the Enneagram in the Narrative Tradition. He is the founder of the Healing Arts Center of St. Paul’s Church in Marquette, Michigan, and the author of five books, including I Have Called You Friends, Holding Beauty in My Soul’s Arms, and My Heart is a Raging Volcano of Love for You and Beyond my Wants, Beyond my Fears: The Soul’s Journey into the Heartland. Visit Kevin’s Blog: Essential Living: For The Soul’s Journey.

Bishop John Shelby Spong Revisited

Galilee: The True Origins of the Jesus Story

I spent several days recently in the region of Israel called Galilee. Contrary to what most people might expect I found my time in Galilee to be far more authentic than my time in Jerusalem. I actually wondered why, for it seemed counterintuitive. Seeking an answer to this question, I plunged into a brief study of the relationship between Jerusalem and Galilee in the Jesus story and in the history of the Jewish people.

The Jewish nation has always been divided into two competing parts. Throughout history they have been called by a variety of names: the Northern Kingdom and the Southern Kingdom, Galilee and Judea, and Samaria and Jerusalem. Even Jewish mythology found in the book of Genesis recognized the division and sought to explain it by suggesting that the patriarch Jacob, who according to the tradition was the father of twelve sons who formed the twelve tribes of Israel, had two principle wives, both of whom were the daughters of a man named Laban. According to this biblical narrative Jacob loved Rachel and agreed to work for Laban for seven years to receive her hand in marriage. Laban, however, veiled his older daughter Leah and tricked Jacob into marrying her instead, arguing rather lamely that it was not proper for the younger daughter to be married prior to the older one. Jacob was then allowed to marry Rachel as his second wife by agreeing to give Laban seven more years of labor for that privilege. This story was clearly written by those sympathetic to Rachel since it always portrayed her as beautiful, while Leah was described in rather unflattering ways (she was said to have had eyes like a cow). Leah, however, bore Jacob a number of sons, which in that culture was supposed to have given her great status, while Rachel had trouble conceiving, having only one son, Joseph, before dying in childbirth with her second and Jacob’s last child, Joseph’s only full brother, named Benjamin.

One of Leah’s sons was named Judah and his descendents became the dominant tribe that settled in the South. Jerusalem was in the land of Judah, which meant that the Temple was also there. The land of Judah was ruled by kings who were the descendents of King David, Judah’s most distinguished son. Rachel was the mother of Joseph, whose descendents populated the Northern Kingdom. As the son of Jacob’s favorite wife, Joseph is portrayed in the Genesis story as the favorite son and Jacob acted this out by making for him a coat of many colors. So it was that the mythology of the Jews located the traditional animosity between the two regions of Israel in the fact that their ancient patriarchs had not been full, but half brothers and that there had always been tension between the two. This is seen most poignantly in this biblical narrative when Joseph was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, an act which Judah instigated and from which he agreed to receive money for ridding their world of their irritating brother.

When the tenuous unity of the Jewish nation was finally destroyed following the reign of Solomon about the year 920 BCE, the division was along this ancient fault line. When Solomon’s son Rehoboam succeeded to the throne in Jerusalem after Solomon’s death he faced immediately a rebellion in the North. Under the leadership of a military general named Jeroboam, demands for the redressing of Northern grievances were made to King Rehoboam, who refused to accede on any point. The people of the North declared themselves to be independent, and by making Jeroboam their king sought to create a new royal family as they seceded from the South. The two new competing entities were Judah, or the Southern Kingdom, organized around the city of Jerusalem, the Temple and the throne of David, and Israel, known as the Northern Kingdom, organized around Galilee, the ancient shrine of Bethel and the new capital city that when built would be called Samaria. The Northern Kingdom lasted from its birth around 920 to 721 BCE, when it was defeated by the Assyrians and its people were carried off into captivity. Without a long history and established institutions they lacked cohesiveness and finally disappeared through intermarriage, becoming part of the DNA of the Middle East, never to be heard from again. They are known today as the “Ten Lost Tribes of Israel.” The Southern Kingdom continued about 140 years longer than the North, from 920 to 586 BCE, when they were defeated by the Babylonians. Jerusalem and its Temple were both destroyed, and the people were carried off into captivity in the land of Babylon. These conquered Judeans, however, were possessed of a deeper sense of both purpose and unity and so they managed to keep themselves separate from their captors. They did this by being different. They observed the Sabbath every seventh day by refusing to work, they ate only kosher food prepared in a kosher kitchen and by reviving the act of circumcision they put the mark of Judaism quite literally on the body of every Jewish male. These things were all designed to make intermarriage difficult and to keep themselves separate. They were thus able subsequently to return home several generations later to reclaim their land and ultimately to rebuild Jerusalem and the Temple. By the time of the New Testament the remnant of the Northern Kingdom was called both Galilee and Samaria. These were generally looked down on as racially compromised regions. The remnant of the Southern Kingdom was called Judea and Judea became so dominant that the word “Jew” became the name by which all of the Hebrew people were identified.

Jesus was, however, a product of Galilee. He was clearly identified with the village of Nazareth. In all probability that was the place of his birth. His ministry was carried out on and around the Sea of Galilee, a 13.5-mile-long and 7-mile-wide lake, sometimes called the Sea of Gennesaret, and in modern Israel known as Kinneret, and in such well known biblical towns near that lake as Tiberius, Bethsaida, Capernaum and Gedara. To visit these places today is to experience the physical setting that is not dissimilar from the way it was in Jesus’ day. The tourist industry has not yet wrecked the authentic imprint of Jesus.

I arrived in Galilee the week before Easter and in Nazareth itself on Easter Sunday. It is a hilly town, not impressive then or now. It is easy to understand how Jesus’ origins there were something of an embarrassment. The New Testament even proclaims, “Nothing good can come out of Nazareth.” This negativity toward Nazareth and Galilee surely caused early Christians to develop the tales of his birth in the nobler town of Bethlehem, the birthplace of King David.

This regional negativity also caused the story of the resurrection to be moved from Galilee to Jerusalem. The earliest sources in the Bible, Paul, Mark and Matthew, suggest that it was in Galilee that the experience of resurrection emerged. By the time the later gospels, Luke and John, were written Jerusalem had replaced Galilee as the center of the resurrection appearance stories and still later of the ascension and the Pentecost story. Even here, however, there are hints of a Galilean original behind the developed Jerusalem narratives. Luke goes so far as to have Jesus command the disciples not to return to Galilee, thus suppressing Christianity’s Galilean origins.

In John the primacy of the Jerusalem tradition is also undermined by what is portrayed as a later Galilean story that is found in the epilogue or final chapter of John’s Gospel. Following the developed narrative of Thomas feeling the nail prints in Jesus’ body in a Jerusalem setting comes this much more primitive Galilean story, in which the disciples have returned home, still in grief, only to experience Jesus alive by the Sea of Galilee. They have a meal together by that lake and then Peter is restored following his threefold denial of Jesus. Time after time the authenticity of the Galilean origins of the Jesus story is affirmed, even though hidden in the gospel tradition.

It was this authenticity of Galilee that I sensed and enjoyed the most while in the land of Israel. The terrain is rugged. Jesus and the disciples had to be strong physically. Their journeys through the towns and villages of Galilee were through a physically demanding countryside. The gentle Jesus of Sunday School fame, portrayed as sitting on a hillside inviting the little children to “come unto me,” is not the portrait that emerges in Galilee. The idea that Joseph could have taken his wife, who was described in Luke as “great with child,” on an almost 100-mile journey from Nazareth either by foot or by donkey so that the messiah could be born in Bethlehem stretches credibility beyond the breaking point when one sees the land of Galilee.

Galilee was also a hotbed of resistance to the yoke of Rome. Its hills gave Jewish guerilla fighters the protective lair they needed to carry out their hit and run attacks on the legions of Rome. Was Jesus’ disciple band involved in these guerilla activities? That too is a source of much speculation. We do know from several references that the disciples of Jesus were armed. Jesus has to order them to put up their swords. We know that one of them was called “the Zealot,” which was the name of the resistance fighters. We believe that the word Iscariot comes from “Sicarii,” the name of a militant revolutionary group. These are the things that have compelled contemporary scholars to lean more and more in this startling direction.

In any event, if you wish to have some sense of the Jesus of history, it is to Galilee, not Jerusalem or Bethlehem, that you will go. Galilee is the province that shaped Jesus of Nazareth. The story of Jesus is drawn into the Jerusalem orbit by the power of that city and by the negativity of the Jewish people toward Galilee in the first century. As the Bible tells the Jesus story, however, his Galilean roots and Christianity’s Galilean origins become obvious. My journey to Israel helped me to recover and reinforce those roots. I commend Galilee to you.

~  John Shelby Spong

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