Over the past few months, as we have emerged from our pandemic cocoons, I have observed that coming out of a cocoon is a lot more stressful on our congregations than going into one. As we entered the pandemic, the biggest issue was one of adaptation: how would we continue to function as the church if we could no longer meet? There were political disagreements about the severity of the threat or the necessity of every precaution, but as the church, the issue was adapting to a new challenge.
Most congregations adapted well to the cocoon. We retreated to our Zoom boxes and hid behind our masks. We learned videography and bumped elbows rather than shake hands. The biggest challenge was mission— maintaining vital connections with our communities when we couldn’t leave our homes or meet in large groups. Even so, we adapted. People sewed masks. They supported essential workers. They broadcast bible studies and children’s stories for the churched and unchurched alike.
In our cocoons, we didn’t change what we did, but how we did it. With new technology and lots of creativity, we adapted.
But coming out of our cocoons is more difficult. Cocoons can be safe and comfortable places. We are insulated and protected from external threats. We can avoid the “difficult people” in our church, our workplace, our neighborhood.
Coming out of a cocoon means leaving that safe and comfortable place. It means venturing out again into community with others. It means having to face the “difficult” people and renegotiate relationships and power dynamics in every group. But even more challenging, it poses the difficult question “What are we going to do now?”
I have heard of church members for whom our post-pandemic emergence has triggered fears that their church will die. When faced with the challenge to ramp up energy, people, and financial resources to match pre-pandemic levels they feel they just can’t do it.
But once you leave the cocoon you can’t go back to the way things were. The world has changed. But more importantly, we have changed. A caterpillar enters a cocoon as a fuzzy larva but emerges as a beautiful butterfly. When a butterfly emerges from the cocoon, does it try to resume life as a caterpillar? Does it struggle to navigate the grass and climb a tree? Does it even want to do that?
Emerging from its cocoon, a butterfly must first learn what it is to be a butterfly and not a caterpillar. It must learn how to fly and feed and interact with other butterflies. As we emerge from our cocoons, rather than resuming what we did before, we need to ask, how have we changed during the pandemic? What new gifts have we discovered? What old patterns no longer make sense?
Entering the cocoon was a process of adaptation. Emerging from the cocoon is a process of transformation.
It’s okay not to know all the answers right away. It’s okay not to do everything we used to in the very same way simply because we’ve always done it that way before.
My friend and colleague Jan Edmiston noted that a few churches are raring to be the New Post-pandemic Church – yay! – but most are not there. Instead, she
advises,
A wise pastor told me the other day that this fall is about Soaking Up God’s Love. Their church is not going to kick off forty new things in September. They are not initiating plans to create new relationships with neighbors in Malawi or Turkey. They are not going to rush that staff search.
Instead, they’re going to meet over comfort food and share stories: Did God feel close by or faraway during COVID? And by the way, you are awesome.
God loves us beyond all telling. Jesus is different from all the cable hosts and politicians and mean people out there. Who is God and just how much does God treasure us? Let’s soak that up.
My Dad always responded to our hanging-wringing about difficult people with these words: Just love them. Don’t demonize them. Don’t complain about them. Don’t stress about them. Just love them – preferably seeing them as Jesus sees them.
Take a deep breath. Feed somebody your best mac and cheese recipe. Tell them that you love the way they _____. Say how much your appreciate them. Bolster your Please and Thank You skills. Smile at the cashier. Go to the party. Make the phone call to Aunt Betty.
Don’t be judge-y. Give people a break. Take a leisurely walk in a lovely place.
Soak up God’s love and – as simply as possible – be the Church.
And, I would add, discover the joy of being a butterfly, not a caterpillar.
Faithfully,
Dan Saperstein, Executive Presbyter
