In the middle of March, 2020, New York moved indoors. Schools shut down. Restaurants closed their dining room. Subways took nights off. Arenas cleared their calendars. Even Broadway turned off its lights. We were told it would be two weeks. Then a month. Or two. The streets were eerie in their silence, broken only by sirens reminding us of our dystopian reality.
Life transferred to online forums. We worked, went to school, attended concerts, went to court, had family holidays, visited old friends, worshipped, practiced yoga, even prepared meals online. As boredom partnered with anxiety, we needed whatever social contact we could get, so we learned Zoom and got creative.
I’d like to take this 20 minute pause in our lives to take stock. Let’s look at where we are, what’s happened as a result of those dramatic days. American life has changed and while in some ways it’s too soon to know how and in what ways and what’s permanent, we are standing in a doorway, knowing well what’s behind us and peeking into what’s before us. Threshold moments can pass without notice, or we can be awake to the changes, be intentional about our roles in cultural transformations.
For the first time in a hundred years, we prioritized health over everything else. Right at the beginning of the lockdowns, I told my family our task is to stay alive. That was all that mattered. We weren’t the only ones to shift our goals. All of New York, most of the country, and most countries on the planet did the same. And policies shifted to accommodate that one goal. Stay alive. A moratorium on rent, federal grants to prevent paycheck disruptions, the child tax credit, and major interruptions in transportation were all designed to keep people safe, ranking health over the economy.
As much as we say that health is the most important thing, this is the first time in any of our lifetimes when our culture reflected the adage. That line is said as a reminder in a world where money is first priority, no matter how much we say otherwise. We’ve set it up so most people can’t even access health care without first having a job. But, there we were, living into our stated values, supporting people’s health, keeping people safe, and moving financial mountains to do it.
Two and a half years later, we’re shifting back to something resembling “normal”. We’re eating out, going to the theatre, celebrating birthdays, shopping for clothes- we’re doing so many of the things we used to do, but the world feels different. We’re still getting our bearings, still trying to catch our collective breath. But, we know something changed. It could be years, even decades before we can fully take stock. We’ve experienced collective trauma, both in the massive loss of life, and in the destabilization of social systems and cultural assumptions. If history can be our teacher, it’s too soon to know the implications exactly, but we can certainly get a sense of what’s to come.
The Great Depression brought us both FDR and Hitler. We again see these dueling ideologies gaining traction. On the one hand, we’re calling for social programs to meet our current needs from massive vaccine rollouts to student debt relief to a shoring up of our infrastructure to the largest climate action ever attempted by our government. On the other hand, we’ve become hyper polarized, have decreased human rights, weakened our democracy, limited access to voting booths, are confusing propaganda with news, and are targeting immigrants, putting them on buses and planes in the way those deemed outsiders were once put on ships and eventually in boxcars.
Both hope and hate are on the rise on both sides of the aisle. Americans want big, bold ideas, life altering change. That seems universal. What that means, what the new society should look like, is under dispute.
There are more subtle changes, too. There’s an increase in mental health issues with depression leading the way. Concerns are so high, a panel of medical experts suggested that doctors screen children, teens, and now all adults under 65 for anxiety which, they say, has reached extraordinary levels, fueling an ongoing mental health crisis they say can last for years.
Divorce rates went down and then they went up. There are no definitive answers to why. Did couples stay together because of the pandemic? Did they find that the slowing down of life gave them the time they needed to heal? Or was it just too difficult to find a second place to live and upend lives that were already upended? Are they divorcing now because circumstances are better for a split or because all that together time made them face the realization that this is no longer working? Or did the drama of these last two years, the boredom, the depression, the isolation, the financial concerns, the loss of a village to care for children, did the unexpected anxiety and overnight social transformations prove too much even for marriages that were once strong?
On a quirkier note, people are opting for comfort in unexpected ways. A nation that valued the daily shower has downgraded personal hygiene. Here in Midtown, where jackets and ties have defined the landscape for a hundred years, men are leaving the suits at home, and women have thrown off their high heels. Scrunchies may never make their way back after Carrie Bradshaw declared that no New York woman would be caught dead in one outside her bathroom, but leggings, yoga pants and even sweatpants have found their way to New York City streets.
Some of that has to do with people not working from work so much these days. Remote work was normalized nearly overnight. Actually, it was overnight- it happened on March 15th, 2020, a Sunday. That Monday, everyone stayed home, and millions of people haven’t come back. Major corporations are struggling to get people to show up more than 2 days a week now that the American workforce has experienced life without commutes. If you used to spend your days in front of a computer at a desk at work, you’re likely now spending your days in front of a computer at a desk in your home. In leggings. And maybe a scrunchie.
The nature of work has become fodder for experts of all kinds, each wondering if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Is it good that we don’t mingle with colleagues so often? Has it reduced discrimination? Has it reduced favoritism? Has it reduced micro-aggressions? Has it reduced productivity? Or possibly increased it? It’s been liberating for many workers, but there are some open questions about the loss of casual conversation that can move things along quickly, and build necessary relationships that help people socially and professionally.
These are part of a larger cultural shift inspired by this pandemic. People are asking for what they want. They want to work from home. They want to live in the country. They want a slower lifestyle. They want relationships that are supportive and joyful. They want to prioritize health. They want to work full time but still be able to pick up their kids from school. They want flexibility, comfort, balance. These were things people wanted before, that now we feel empowered to get. Or, we’ve all been traumatized by recent events and are having trouble going back to those busy, exhausting lives we left behind.
Some of this is good. Some of it poses significant challenges. Getting people to work is harder and more costly. The Great Resignation, as it’s being called, included critical parts of our society like teachers and health care workers, creating significant gaps in our social fabric. Some schools are bringing college students in to teach. Some are bringing in soldiers. Some shortened the school week to 4 days so schools can share staff. Waits in emergency rooms have lengthened and access to services like ambulances have been reduced. Therapists and psychiatrists have left their practices in droves, thwarting our attempts to address the mental health crisis. Many of these people left because the workloads were unrealistic, making success seem impossible. But, many in each of these fields report leaving because the divisions in American society are too intense to want to be on the frontlines which has happened for medical and educational professionals who report having their competence questioned by people with no credentials or trust in facts.
The impulse to quit has also reached clergy, for many of the same reasons. 47% of America’s clergy report wanting to leave which is an astounding number. (To be clear, I’m not one of them.)
I’m not sure about the relationship between that reality and this next one, but they are certainly related. Churches are closing. Small churches can’t find ministers, across denominations. Before the pandemic, many clergy were surviving on part time salaries or working at two or three different churches. And, while I’m personally interested in the state of religion in America, it’s good to note that all voluntary associations- all places people have historically gone because they wanted to rather than because they had to – have experienced a marked decline in numbers. People aren’t showing up. They aren’t going to libraries, or offering to sit on non-profit boards, to serve in soup kitchens or food pantries or in just about any traditionally voluntary role or group. And, they’re not going to church. We don’t have solid numbers yet, but just about every clergy person I know in every denomination has said that numbers are down, sometimes way down, sometimes alarmingly down. Staff positions are being cut, which is always a sign of decline and a move toward closure.
The energy spikes around religion right now are found in very conservative circles where people are feeling empowered by the end of reproductive rights, the elimination of women’s rights over our own bodies, and a Court poised to make more equally radical decisions. Having worked for decades for just that outcome, extremist right-wing churches are abuzz and their rhetoric has become a central part of our political process and the upcoming election.
I don’t have a crystal ball, so I can’t tell you exactly what’s next, but I can tell you what we’re going to need to move through this transition with grace.
First, we have to be patient with each other. This comes up over and over and might be a challenge, so I’m saying it again. We have to be patient with each other. When someone makes a mistake, when someone is late, when someone didn’t follow through, patience will serve us all well. When someone is prioritizing their health or seeking balance in a way that doesn’t align with your timeline, patience will be the lubricant or the healing balm we all need. Everything is changing and none of us knows what to expect, or what the new norms are. Deep breaths and a reminder of that will serve us well.
Next, institutions – and for our sake, religious institutions - need to get serious about who we are and why we exist. We’ve been resting on our laurels for decades and it’s time for us to ask some difficult questions of ourselves. Are we necessary? Are we relevant? Do people living in this cultural moment require what we are offering? How do we ensure that we are strong, healthy, and focused? How do we eliminate distraction and obstruction so we can live into our mission? We’re being challenged, forced to justify our existence.
Third - and this is related – progressives need to hone our message and get organized. There is a fight looming and it’s going to be ugly. We have lost 50 years, and have to once again push for women’s rights, voting rights, and nuclear disarmament as we enter a new cold war. We will need discipline and vision because this is a national fight, and if we’re honest, the global winds are pushing against us.
The driving factor here, the engine that might get progressives clear and disciplined, and religious institutions focused, and even inspire individuals to practice patience as the new world reveals itself, the inspiration for all this is hope. It’s what kept us in our homes when we hated the isolation. We were acting as if our individual decisions could reduce risk for the whole. We were living out of that hope. And it’s what brings us out into the streets to fight for injustice or fires us up to make phone calls in swing states. We believe our society can live into our values. I’d venture to say that hope is the reason many of us keep showing up here, too. We come to tap into the Source. We know there’s something better, that we can heal our trauma and act in love, rejecting the fear responses we see being played out in too many arenas.
Holding up the parts of this new normal that are healthy, that are serving as a reboot, that are reminding us of our deepest values is what’s next. We are taking inventory, sharing a deep breath, gathering our strength. The world has changed. It is changing. We are changing with it. Let’s lean in to the opportunity, the gift of this rare and unexpected invitation to a new world.