For Wilshire Baptist Church
For most of my life the word “zoom” has been associated with speed. Remember the Mazda commercials and “zoom, zoom, zoom”? But Coronavirus has taken the zoom out of life; everything has slowed to a crawl if not a halt, except I hope for those who are racing to find a treatment or a vaccine.
The only zoom happening right now is in Zoom meetings and in similar gatherings via FaceTime, Skype and other apps. It’s becoming a way of life as we work from home and do other things while apart – like doing church and being church together. And you know what? It’s not so bad, especially if we learn something from it.
Over the past three days I’ve attended three church-related Zoom events. Sunday morning it was our Epiphany class, meeting at our usual time before Wilshire’s live stream worship service. There were more than 40 of us online and it was pretty much class as usual. We had announcements and prayer requests, and then Pastoral Resident Leigh Curl taught on the story of Tamar and Judah from Genesis. The rest of us offered questions or comments, although we weren’t quite as chatty as we are on most Sundays. Perhaps sitting at home on the sofa with pillow hair and a cup of coffee has a way of quieting us.
Monday evening, Wilshire Winds gathered on Zoom as well, sans instruments. We didn’t rehearse, but we talked about our future playing schedule and contingencies for when we resume. I didn’t think it would last 15 minutes – just a quick check-in to see how everyone was doing – but we ended up talking and laughing together for almost an hour. Some of the laughter came from seeing each other in our most homey surroundings: one member sitting in bed, one with cats walking all over her, another with a dragon gecko perched on his shoulder, one at a dining table decorated for Easter, and another walking laps through her house the entire time.
And then earlier today we had a deacon officers meeting. It was mostly about making sure everything possible is being done to keep the Wilshire community connected though separated. While I was engaged in that, LeAnn was downstairs in our bedroom having a Zoom session with her regular Wilshire yoga class. It must have been going well because I had to get up and close my door to quiet the laughter.
An interesting thing about these Zoom meetings is how they serve to “zoom in” on our real selves – quirks, warts and all. For starters, we’re all dialing in from home, which means we come as we are. There’s no pretense or preening. We’re wearing jeans, sweats, T-shirts or whatever we’re comfortable in at home. We’re unshaven, unmake-upped, un-coiffed. There’s an equality, too, in that while someone is leading the meeting, there’s no head of the table. Everyone has a voice. That sense of equality is helped by the fact that our technical equipment is uneven and our mastery even more so. Some of us are out of focus, dark and fuzzy, frighteningly bright, far across the room, or inches from the camera with nothing showing but a forehead or nostrils. In short, we all become awkward, hand-held versions of ourselves. But coming through all the awkward camera angles and crusty countenances is a natural warmth and caring that gets to the heart of who we are as individuals and as a community.
I don’t want Zoom to become a habit; it should never take the place of high-touch, face-to-face gatherings. But for now, at least, it is fulfilling the promise of social media: to draw us closer while we are apart. Facebook has become a place for showing off to a large extent, and Twitter is a swamp of ranting and shaming. But technology like Zoom lets us be who we really are and who we are to each other – and that is simply people trying to be good to each other and do good for each other. It gives us a place to get out of the fast lane, slow down and be community with each other.
I hope and pray that one of the after-effects of this unprecedented event in our history is that this time apart will rejuvenate our time together.