Last week, an underground fire was steadily burning behind the outlet malls in town. Its heat caused part of the back parking lot to collapse, and the smoke from the burning asphalt was thick and black, compromising the air quality for those who live near the slow-burning flames.
Even a few miles away, I could smell the smoke inside my apartment.
But even with the billowing smoke, local authorities deemed the area in front of the mall safe. When I drove past the outlet earlier in the week on my way home, I was surprised to find the front parking lots packed, teeming with hustle and bustle as people took advantage of pre-Black Friday sales.
The world was literally on fire behind them—smoke rising high to the sky—but they were committed to continuing with business as usual.
Sometimes nature gives us a metaphor more accurate than anyone can pen.
In the weeks since the presidential election results, I’ve had innumerable conversations with people who are scared, sad, anxious and depressed. Some, including my wife and I, are researching legal options to ensure our wills, power of attorney and other essential documents are set up to get our affairs in order regardless of what happens to the legality of our marriages.
Others are researching immigration plans in case their healthcare gets cut.
Amid this grief-laden chaos, my wife reminds me we need to order holiday cards to mail to our loved ones. The world is on fire beneath our feet, yet the rigid structure of society demands that we also keep these annual expectations.
The absurdity of it catches me off guard, and I can’t help but laugh, partially from shock and partially from cynicism. In what universe does making legal arrangements to protect our household and ordering holiday cards exist in the same conversation?
The world keeps turning despite our need for justice and rest.
I wonder if the disciples felt similarly after Jesus’ death. One moment, they’re mourning their friend and teacher. The next, James is asking, “who’s going to the market to get some fish? We can’t just starve.”
As I revisit the scripture in John 20:19-23, I’m struck by a realization so simple in its profundity that I can’t believe I haven’t noticed this before: the disciples were together.
When the world rips the rug right out from under my feet, I tend to recluse somewhere. I want to hide under a pile of blankets and just let myself sulk. But it’s the company of friends–via their physical presence or their thoughtful texts–that gives me the strength to do the things I need to do.
It is in community that we find the hope needed to confront the despair of the world.
In this moment, the disciples model how we will survive the next several years. They could have isolated themselves.
They could have gone their separate ways. (Some Gospel accounts suggest they do.) But in the Gospel of John, they teach us the importance of keeping our rag-tag, diverse, determined, gritty network together.
As they sat behind that locked door, I imagine their conversation bounced back and forth between holding one another as they cried and strategizing their next move. While their hearts must have been heavy with grief, the world wasn’t stopping for them.
They still had a community to care for, a message to preach, and lives to protect.
So, how will we survive the coming days?
We won’t make it by ignoring the billowing smoke as it chokes our neighbors. And we certainly won’t make it by pretending the flames aren’t there so we can continue with business “as usual.” The conflict of the coming days won’t disappear simply because we want it to.
We’re allowed to be afraid right now. We’re allowed to be angry, scared and grief-stricken. But one thing I encourage us not to allow ourselves to be is alone.
Because that is how we will survive: Together.
A bivocational pastor, writer and spiritual director based in Williamsburg, Virginia, she currently works as a Spiritual Director at Reclamation Theology. Cawthon-Freels is the author of Reclamation: A Queer Pastor’s Guide to Finding Spiritual Growth in the Passages Used to Harm Us (Nurturing Faith Books), and a contributing correspondent at Good Faith Media.
