Disciple: Navigating the Debris in the Road

On a mild and sunny October afternoon, Debbie and I drove to a nearby park in Durham for a walk. We have been trying to find one afternoon each week to explore some of the beautiful places nearby where we can enjoy the North Carolina countryside, get some fresh air, see other people while maintaining physical distance and learn more about this place we have come to call home.

On the way back from West Point Park on the Eno, we found ourselves passing not just one or two cars pulled off to the side of the highway, but within a short distance, at least 10 or 12 cars. None of them showed any body damage, so it wasn’t related to a crash. And then as we got to the last car, the owner was changing a tire. We realized there must have been some kind of debris in the road that had caused all of these cars to get flat tires.

Then it hit me. We know what to do when we get a flat tire. Every car has a spare. You pull over, change the tire, and you continue on your way. But what happens when there is debris in the road and you get not one, but two or three flat tires on your car? Because if there is debris in the road that can puncture your tire, there is no guarantee it will affect only one.

As I thought about this scenario and how that must feel to the driver, I thought about this year through which we have all been living. It feels a little like we are pulled over on the roadside trying to figure out what to do with not one flat tire, but two or three or more.

A YEAR TO REMEMBER

2020 has been a year to remember. It has also been a year that many of us would like to forget. There is a certain irony here. The number 2020 is often associated with perfect vision. Someone with 20/20 vision can see at a distance and read the small print, suggesting both a capacity for big-picture perspective as well as attention to detail. Some have observed that effective leadership needs to be able to balance the two.

The year 2020 might be described as the ultimate test of leadership. Many would make the case that it is an impossible test to pass. On one of our recent weekly leadership calls of clergy and lay leaders throughout the Diocese, we were asked to describe, in one or just a few words, how we are feeling at this stage as we continue to try to navigate the pandemic. There were, of course, a variety of responses, but there were also some themes: exhausted, inadequate, discouraged, resigned, frustrated, confounded.

One of the things I love most about serving as your bishop in this diocese is that people here are not afraid to be honest about their struggles. And all of us are struggling right now.

Often, when I am struggling, I find myself asking the question, “What can I learn from this?” And while the year 2020 may have many things to teach us, for many of us it is really only after-the-fact, once we have come through an ordeal, that we can turn and look again and see what the struggle has taught us. Perhaps this is where we get the expression “hindsight is 20/20.”

Many of us will be glad when we can finally look back on this year and see it only through the rearview mirror. But what can we do in the meantime? Because this year is not over, and there are some strong indicators that the pandemic that has plagued us, literally, in 2020 is very likely to linger into 2021. And it is not just the pandemic, of course. We are enduring record-breaking natural disasters: hurricanes, floods, wild fires and earthquakes. There is unprecedented social unrest as we face into the history of systemic racism and the deadly, toxic legacy of white supremacy. Political tensions, as we moved toward the election, were at an all-time high.

How do we keep going? How do we provide leadership to our communities of faith? Where do we find signs of hope?

SIGNS OF HOPE

In a conversation with our deacons at a fall online retreat, signs of hope were popping up all over. One deacon who works with people dealing with addiction told us how being forced to switch to the Zoom platform for some of the 12-step groups has been an unexpected gift. She explained that people find it less intimidating to join a Zoom meeting to begin to face their addiction.

“Walking into a room full of people, introducing yourself for the first time and owning your own addiction can be overwhelming,” she said. “But showing up on a Zoom call feels a little more manageable. We have seen a significant increase in attendance and new people joining our groups.”

Another deacon who works as a physician assistant in a surgical unit spoke of how prior to now, just before surgery, the patient could not have anyone with them beyond a certain point. But now, because it has become commonplace to connect people by phone with loved ones in the hospital who are isolated because of the virus, that practice has extended to the operating room. Now, right before surgery, he can hold up a phone, and the patient can speak with a loved one for some words of encouragement or a prayer. The person could be calling from the waiting room or from some other part of the country.

On November 21, we came together for a daylong online gathering to celebrate signs of hope (page 16). The theme was “Behold, I am Doing a New Thing.” The 205th Annual Convention has, as you know, been pushed out to March 2021. But on the Saturday of what would have been our Annual Convention, we gathered online to celebrate the ways we have responded to the challenges of this unprecedented year with creativity, resilience, adaptation, innovation and hope.

It was a wonderful way to prepare us to enter Advent, the season of anticipation. Because, despite our current hardships and challenges, there is much to anticipate with great joy and hope: our work, our faith, our community and a new year with its infinite possibilities.

The road of 2020 had had its share of debris and potholes, no doubt about it. But despite a flat or two, we have responded, we roll on, and we will continue to keep moving forward as we navigate the landscape of what remains of 2020—and what’s to come in 2021— together.

We are building beloved community. While I may need to wait until we are well past this year to learn all that 2020 has to teach me, one thing is clear. In and through these ordeals and our own struggles, one thing has stayed constant. God is still calling us to build beloved community. And we are doing this work beautifully, faithfully, powerfully, effectively, with God’s help, with infusions of the love of Jesus and with a rich variety of gifts from the Holy Spirit.

If you were not able to join us on November 21, I hope you will spend some time enjoying the recordings (available on the diocesan website, Vimeo and YouTube) to see and celebrate the ways we have continued to be faithful disciples in the Jesus movement; the ways we are discovering how to be church and be present for each other, even when we cannot be physically together; the ways we are learning to lean into the love of Jesus and turn toward each other, care for one another and become beloved community.

The Rt. Rev. Sam Rodman is the XII Bishop of the Diocese of North Carolina.