The heartbreak of these times is nearly unspeakable. I struggle to find words: yet another black man has died in police custody in the United States. This time, the act was caught on video and the world witnessed what happened. The terror of that scene reverberates among all people who have experienced fear, rather than comfort, in the presence of police and other public officials whose uniforms designate them as community protectors.

“I need to go to the emergency room.” I expected this; I saw the signs. I am, frankly, relieved, although uncertain: what’s it like in a hospital, even a small, rural one, in the era of COVID-19? I call the Black River Falls ER: “I’m bringing my husband in with congestive heart failure.” I give his name, his birthday. “When I get there, what’s the drill?”

“We will meet him at the door.”

Prudence.

We drive into the hospital parking lot. In contrast to the usual one bold red sign:

The second morning of Easter, April 12, 2020, I am differently grateful than in previous years:

For an Easter feast: seeing the thumbnail faces of our children, their partners and our grandchildren on Zoom, and for e-cards, text messages, and FaceTime calls from friends;

For the work of clergy and laity who converted Easter week services to remote delivery as fast as the faculty throughout the University of Toronto rejigged their classes;

It’s Maundy Thursday in the Christian calendar - ne of the holiest days of the year in which the church remembers Jesus’ last prayers over bread and wine with his disciples. This incident and others led the early church to ritualize eucharist - the communal taking, blessing, breaking, and giving of bread and wine as the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Can we conceive celebrating Maundy Thursday without this ritual? Yet denominations are divided over whether, in a time of COVID-19, we can partake in eucharist virtually.

Emmanuel College, Afternoon Prayer: March 31, 2020

A paraphrase of Lamentations 1:1-5

How lonely sits the city, that was once full of people!
How like a widow she has become, she that was great among cities!
She that was a princess in the province has become a vassal.

Suffering God, we lament the loss of our everyday lives, the loss of the normalcy: classes, jobs, family life, worship.

The city weeps bitterly in the night, with tears on her cheeks;
Among all her lovers she has no one to comfort her;

Is the person walking toward me a danger—or am I a danger to them?

For two days, I got distracted from opening my computer to read the “revised daily lectionary daily readings” during dawning. Early mornings, I find it easier reach into my soul and draw the living water that Jesus promised the Samaritan woman at the well. Not so once the day is filled with tasks, decisions, and screen time (which my computer tells me increased by 54% last week.)

Balancing Compassion vs. Academic Integrity: Words of advice I have never forgotten that I pass on to you.

The near-ideal morning: I awaken when the Quarter Moon shines bright, partnered with the North Star. Near, but not intimately positioned—rather, even these heavenly bodies seem to practice an awkward “social distancing.” Then, the pink glow of sunrise overwhelms the light of the moon, deepens to burning rose over a calm Lake Ontario, and yields to a light blue sky. Mercifully, thin cloud cover filters the bright heat of the sun that hammers my windows on cloudless days: the air billows.