Every day provides another opportunity to begin anew, but I predictably follow a daily ritual, patterned on fulfilling obligations and responsibilities to others and myself, praying that they are pleasing to God. All of us had our habits interrupted by the pandemic, and I know I'm still working on navigating the new programming, not the least of which includes making sure I always have a mask and follow protocols. Even as India and countries in South America report dire numbers of infections, we experience locally the transition back to familiar routines. Surveys and articles abound about what we've learned from the pandemic.
It's too soon to realize fully what we've learned over the past year -- we'll be learning for ages to come -- but what continues to sharpen with clarity for me is the significance of how we relate to one another. What I observe and learn brings me both great joy and great sadness.
"Looking to the helpers" like Mr. Rogers suggested brings me joy and hope eternal. People who are the hands and feet of Christ in times of trial show up in the hospitals, food banks, checkout lines, entryways, sidewalks, parks -- everywhere. In critical times like 9/11, storms, and floods, we've seen neighbors helping neighbors and folks reaching out from far away. When our powerlessness to control our environment becomes evident, and our vulnerability levels us in one common humanity, we realize that we are dependent upon one another, without qualification or classification. In times when we're shoveling mud together, searching for signs of life together, bringing food and supplies together to feed one another's children, we might actually see ourselves in the eyes of others. That recognition is the spark of empathy and compassion, of love. Heaven rejoice when the recognition is mutual!
In the past year, however, I have also seen our vulnerability peak and folks turn away from the needs of others -- and even of themselves. This rejection is harder for me to understand, which tells me to look more closely, to follow the discomfort. Why would we not show up for someone in need? Why would we focus on our own safety or at least our familiar, comfortable patterns? And I know why. Given the choice, we're often told to play it safe. Is it risky? Let someone else do it. "Can't see it from my back yard," we sometimes joke in my family, suggesting that it's someone else's problem and an invitation to forget about it, whatever "it" may be. If I think on how often I have passed on the other side of someone else's need and multiply that by however many people are doing the same, my heart hurts from the weight of recognition of our collective neglect.
While I may follow along my routines and daily habits in much the same way going forward as I have in the past, I know that loving my neighbor is critical. We can't afford to plead ignorance or pretend like human suffering is someone else's problem. The pandemic has revealed and emphasizes that it is up to each of us to show care and compassion to one another so that the world we leave to future generations is one worth inheriting.
The Rev. Sara Milford serves as Vicar of All Saints' Episcopal Church in Bentonville. You can reach her at mothersara@allsaintsbentonville.org.