Ian

Pandemic Journal, Entry 1: My Hobby

We all need hobbies during this pandemic and mine is holding Fidel Castro-length press conferences in my front yard each evening. If you have friends in the media, please share this with them because all I’m getting are well-meaning comments from my neighbors. Like, “Turn that megaphone off! It’s 10 PM!” Or, “I’m calling the police!”

But I persist. 

My press conferences will continue as long as the pandemic confines us to our homes. Or at least until our governor sees the error of his ways and, brought to his senses by 25 bellowing Christians in full tactical gear, allows us to exercise our constitutional right to walk around Best Buy dreaming of 4K TVs that unemployment have put just out of reach. 

In case you missed last night’s press conference, which ended sooner than planned thanks to “enhanced law enforcement presence,” here’s the transcript:

Me (Muffled): Is this thing on? Did you remember to buy batteries?
Beth: This is a very bad idea. Shut up and come inside. 
Me (at the top of my lungs): Members of the mainstream media, liars and believers in “science”, I have all the power. 

(I hold up a picture of Vince Offer. Google him.)

I am using that power to nominate and confirm ‘Muricas new Economic Vitality Czar. He was not my first choice, but after my people shared with me the unfortunate news that Larry Vaughn is not a real person, I made the snap, perfect decision that Vince is the man to lead us back to Dow 20,000. I can’t wait for him to read about my decision on Twitter and come crawling to join my team. 

You’re welcome. 

I’ll now take questions. But not nasty ones. 

Neighbor: STFU!

Me: My mouth will not STFU until it’s uncovered by N95 masks that don’t exist.

Neighbor: I’m calling the cops. 

Me: Tell them I thank them for their service. 

(Long period of awkward silence. Sound of beer bottle shattering in street. Sirens. Lots of sirens.)

Spiritual Homelessness

Last week I resigned my membership at First Friends, the Quaker meeting Beth and me have attended for almost 19 years.

At monthly meeting Sunday, my resignation was noted and sparked a lengthy, emotional discussion. I won’t go into the reasons I chose to leave. Ministry and Counsel will have to discern whether to share or act on those. But they’re foundational issues about how we live in relationship with one another.

This isn’t something I take lightly. Beth and I raised our son in the meeting, we’re both former clerks of M&C, and we’ve extended our hospitality to countless people who have visited that community. They’re a meeting that does a lot to combat food insecurity and address difficult social issues. I have many friends there. But the last few months our committees and elders have focused on process while failing those of us who are hurting.

Beth’s more patient than me. She’s hanging on.

The phrase “spiritual homelessness” came to mind while I was sitting in my last monthly meeting at First Friends. There’s a distinction between the Quaker idea of church (wherever two or more are gathered in God’s name) and the institutional church. There is a powerful connection between Beth and me, and the many people in that community who love us. We don’t take that for granted; we’ll work to grow those bonds. That idea of church is still intact.

But, standing outside the institutional church after nearly two decades means two things to me: Starting over, and finding a new faith community where I can build new bonds and trust. And, missing the structure and formal bonds that made First Friends a spiritual incubator, where leadings and the support and discernment of friends led to powerful things.