Love in the Time of Corona, Chapter 4
Dear Friends,
Hello In There. That’s the name of an old John Prine song that I’ve listened to a lot over the past several days. This past Monday morning, I woke up to the news that Prine had been hospitalized for complications from Covid-19, and like music lovers everywhere, I dove into his back catalogue, marveling anew at his wordplay, his storytelling, his wit, and above all his ability to reveal the deep human truth latent in all sorts of ordinary moments. As I’ve listened, I’ve realized that in a way I couldn’t have anticipated, John Prine is one of the voices we need most right now. Or at any rate, he’s one of the voices I most need. Prine delivers to my face an “illegal smile,” to quote another of his beloved songs, a momentary rush of pleasure, but also of shared understanding that feels precious right now.
That’s what happens in his song “Hello in There.” It’s the third track on Prine’s self-titled debut album, released in 1971. It’s a song about the loneliness that often comes with age, but it feels like it could have been written – gifted to all of us, really – for a time such as this. He presents a vision of a quiet household emptied out of children, and of friendships left untended for too long. He presents a vision of aging where, he says, “old people just grow lonesome, waiting for someone to say hello in there.” He concludes the song with these words:
So if you’re walking down the street sometime
And spot some hollow ancient eyes
Please don’t just pass ’em by and stare
As if you didn’t care, say, “Hello in there, hello”
Prine’s song is just that – a gentle hello that breaks the spell of human isolation, reaching out simply to say, “I see you. I recognize you. I value you. Hello in there.” It is as moving a piece of songwriting as I can imagine right now, and just the sort of thing we all need to hear. In truth, it’s the sort of thing many of us have started practicing on walks or bike rides, calls or messages, noticing each other in ways we haven’t before. Ironically, in a time of social isolation, a lot of us are learning or renewing simple practices that make us less isolated. We’re learning to say: Hello in there. Hello.
I hope this letter is a way of doing just that. I hope our Sunday services are ways of doing just that. I hope our midweek Sacred Conversations have been that. I hope the phone calls and Zoom conversations and all the other little ways we’ve been trying to connect wind up breaking the spell of isolation and distancing, helping you to know that whatever you’re carrying, whatever you’re going through, we see you and we care. Hello in there. Hello.
But this is also a chance to share some of our plans for the coming days, further attempts to say hello in there. Believe it or not, this coming Sunday is Palm Sunday, which will begin our progression through Holy Week, culminating on Easter Sunday. Like everything these days, those events will seem strange, given our inability to gather with one another in person. But we’re doing our best to imagine alternative ways of being together. Here’s what we’ve come up with.
For this coming Sunday, we’ll record and post a worship service just the way we’ve done in recent weeks. But then on Sunday morning, Laura and Lisa will host a virtual Sunday School activity at 10:00 for our children and any parents who would like to join. And we’ll host another Zoom fellowship hour at 11:00, open to everyone who would like to drop in and say hello. Finally, we’ve got a few boxes of palms that just arrived at the church, and it would be a shame to see them go to waste. And so we’ll place them out on the front lawn of the church on Sunday morning. You’re invited to come by anytime throughout the day to pick one up. When you do, say a prayer for everyone and everything that’s on your heart and mind. And keep them as an icon, a reminder of the hope we all of us need in this uncertain time. Keep them as an icon of the donkey king who comes riding into our lives in troubled times, not as a conquering hero but as a loving and gracious presence, one who says, in so many ways, hello in there. Hello.
On Thursday night, Maundy Thursday, it’s been our custom to gather for a simple meal, followed by a communion service. While we can’t gather for a meal this year, we can gather with one another via Zoom, and so we’ll host a communion service at 7:00 that evening. You’ll have to provide your own elements – bread and wine, or whatever elements you have on hand. Most any element will do. The point is simply to be together, and to observe that simple moment with one another.
It’s also a custom on Maundy Thursday for our choir to perform a longer work from well-known composers. This year the hope was to offer the Holy Week portions of Handel’s Messiah. And so we’ll be posting a performance of that work for you to listen to during the week. In fact, we may post several works that the choir has performed over the years. That too will be an important part of our Holy Week observance.
On Good Friday, we’ve gathered for a walk that begins at St. Ann’s church, winds around to FCCOL, and then returns to St. Ann’s. It’s a walk of about 3 miles in total, and in the past we’ve used it to raise money for our food ministries. This year, we’d like to invite you to walk a route of your own choice, and at a time of your own choosing. But we’d also like to invite you to consider making a donation to the Homeless Hospitality Center’s “Walk to End Homelessness.” You can find the details here.
Easter too will be different. But we’ll make the most of it, each in our own way. We’ll post our online service, and we’ll have a virtual fellowship hour. There will be music, including the Hallelujah Chorus. There will be a sunrise scene, there will be flowers, and, for those of us with children, there will, I’m sure, be Easter baskets of some sort. But I suspect it will all feel a little closer to the first recorded Easter in the Bible, when shadows prevail, and where resurrection is glimpsed in rumors and hints. We’ll have to attend to those hints and rumors with renewed attention this year. That story, like so many of the stories we’ve been exploring these past several weeks, is meant for a time such as this.
Here’s the last thing. Artists and musicians are moving online, and if you’re attentive, you can catch some marvelous performances that are taking place. It turns out that our own Brian Cheney is doing just that. His own performance schedule for the spring was cancelled, and so he’s offering online concerts, beginning this coming Saturday night (April 4th) at 7:00. Here’s the link. Just click on it and enjoy an evening of musical theater. And remember to show your appreciation in the virtual tip jar, which converts to something quite tangible that musicians can use these days!
That’s it for now. Just a gentle way of saying hello in there. From all of us to all of you.
Love in the Time of Corona. We love you. We miss you. And we hope to see you soon, whether in a virtual space or a real one.
Stay human …
Steve, Laura, and Carleen
P.S. – For those who are interested, here’s a short playlist of essential John Prine tracks, each of which speak into our shared condition with humor and a deep reservoir of compassion. As of this writing, he’s still hanging on.
- “Lake Marie,” from the album Lost Dogs and Mixed Blessings
- “Jesus – The Missing Years,” from the album The Missing Years
- “Illegal Smile,” from the album John Prine
- “You Got Gold,” from the album The Missing Years
- “Hello in There,” from the album John Prine
- “Mexican Home,” from the album Sweet Revenge
- “That’s the Way the World Goes Round,” from the album Bruised Orange
- “When I Get to Heaven,” from the album The Tree of Forgiveness
- “The Glory of True Love,” from the album Fair and Square
- “Summer’s End,” from the album The Tree of Forgiveness