A version of the following was originally written as a post to her meeting's electronic bulletin board the first week of May. The author has edited it to increase clarity and focus.
I have heard and experienced some of the Zoom fatigue/screen fatigue that is happening while we navigate COVID-19. This is not a message to deny or diminish any of that, nor an effort to criticize that experience or perspective. I am hoping instead to share something else.
Imagine that we are all engaged in an adventurous game of basketball while sitting in rolling chairs. Instead of jump shots, fast flying wheels! Still the intensity of the game, and action in our community! Those of us who are used to reaching for the net need to learn some new trick shots, while the most agile players on the court are those with more experience in chairs with with wheels.
Then one day, someone says, “Hey, let’s leave this game and go back to playing over there,” pointing up some stairs to a court that was previously closed but is now open. All at once, some stand and walk away toward the re-opened court. But not those who regularly use chairs with wheels for mobility.
For people living at a distance (like us!), people with social anxiety, people who don’t drive, don’t drive at night, people who are traveling, or are in any number of circumstances in which being in-person is hard, being able to join a committee, a meeting for worship, a meeting for business, Taize, worship sharing, and other meaningful opportunities remotely is a treasure beyond what you may imagine.
I recently attended my mother’s funeral remotely. It was terrible and also wonderful. I have also attended every Sunday meeting for worship that Mt. Toby has offered this spring. And Taize, twice, even though I had to leave to accommodate tubby time for my 5-year-old. And business meeting. And worship-sharing.
I work two jobs, now both of them in parts, remotely. I definitely have screen fatigue, parenting fatigue, and introvert-never-alone fatigue, but I am grateful beyond words for the opportunity to be with Mt. Toby as a balm for some of what hurts.
I am worried that at some point people will say, “Ah, now we can get back to normal, and be together in person!” Normal is such a cutting word. It’s also a word that carries projection and privilege in some cases. I’ve been trying for the last couple of years to substitute “common” for “normal” in conversation. It seems to leave more room for me to grow. Maybe at this time, I will also start swapping “familiar” for “normal” if it fits; as in, “I want things to go back to being more familiar.”
It’s been on my mind to ask how the meeting will continue to make accessible things that have become accessible during this rapid move to online offerings. Will it be possible to Zoom in to a Race and Class discussion or a Bible study? Will there be hybrid worship- sharing opportunities for the housebound or distant? In what way is the immersion to online learning (as in learning to be online) forming the community to be less tied to forms and more open to new paths to connection and worship? Is God in Zoom worship?
Those who know me well may be amused that this is coming from me. I am conservative on many levels and I love the theology, practice, and teachings of Quaker history as much or more than the next person. But I also believe in a God who expects above all things that we are willing to be seen, willing to be wrong, and willing to respond with our lives, as we lean into ever more faithfulness.
Jennie and her family live in West Tisbury, MA.