Wandering in the Pandemic Wilderness
By: Jason B. Hobbs Lcsw
Tags: Spirituality, Covid 19, Mental Health, Coronavirus, Religion

As a clinician in an outpatient mental health practice, I have been searching for the right analogy to what this time has felt like for my patients … and for me. As with many traumas, there is that initial shock and denial. As Kübler-Ross wisely observed, next will often come anger and bargaining perhaps settling into a sense of depression and finally acceptance.

Photo by Blake Cheek on Unsplash

But unlike a specific traumatic event that may have a beginning-middle-end, we don’t yet have a sense of the scope and duration of this pandemic. It feels more like a series of waves that continually crash upon us, a tsunami at first, then a series of other waves, some deceptively small, others overwhelming.

You can feel like you have gotten a good breath and then relief. Then at other times, we may feel that we are flailing about in the water unable to feel the mushy ground underneath or to have something stable on which to hold. It is hard to swim or to even know which direction we should go.

Yet also as a person of faith who works in the “Bible Belt”, the image that I keep returning to is the Exodus from Egypt and that time of wandering in the wilderness for the children of Israel. There were lessons there for the people … and maybe for us too.

The people complained a lot.

Over and over and over they complained. The people complained to God; they complained to Moses their leader and to Aaron their priest. And especially early in that journey, those complaints took a form that was not unlike grief or mourning. Even though what they had left may have been oppressive and difficult, the people longed to be back to what they knew, what was stable, what was “normal”.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

We too complain about what we miss and what may be lost. We miss the communities where we sat/worked with others. Perhaps it is congregational singing, passing the peace, hugging each other. Maybe it is the restaurant and the sounds of clanging dishes, the variety of smells of food around us. It may be children playing together that are now socially distanced from the parks and playgrounds.

Our grief is appropriate because we have experienced loss. We should honor our mourning … but not allow it to stop us putting one foot in front of the other.

The people learned to eat manna.

Out of the complaints of the people on this long journey, God provided manna. This food was their daily sustenance. They would gather enough for the day and no more. On the day before the day of rest (Sabbath), they could gather enough for two days. If they took more than what they needed, the food would spoil. This continually reminded the people that they should only gather what you need for that day.

And when they were sick of manna, the people complained again. God sent an abundance of quail but not without making the point that God was frustrated with the people for not being satisfied with what they had been given.

For many of us, we too may have to learn to have enough. We may have to look around at what we have for the day, to recognize that there is enough and to be content there.

Photo by Austin Kehmeier on Unsplash

And although God is not happy with their complaints, God still responds. As a parent, I am reminded of the times when I have had to acknowledge that my children needed what they were asking for … even if I had initially said “no” or failed to give it.

We remember that the God with which we are presented in Exodus is a God who seems to have lots of feelings about the people, sometimes loving and gracious, sometimes frustrated and vindictive. Regardless, this is a God who remains in relationship with the people with whom God is covenanted, committed to, through all the ups and downs of that journey. This is the sort of steadfastness that one needs in a companion on this wandering path.

We are tempted to build a golden calf.

During one long stretch when their leader was absent, the people pressured their priest to build an idol. The people wanted something solid and tangible, not this God who said “I am that I am”. With the accumulated jewelry and metal from the people, they melted down their desire in order to form a golden calf.

There is a strong desire in all of us for predictability and control. We look to our leaders and experts for this. But we should be careful not to make an idol of them.

Photo by Philipp Knape on Unsplash

My work as a clinician reminds me that when we are anxious and fearful, angry, and in pain, we will try nearly anything to find relief. This is a normal response. The desire to have life feel predictable again or to feel that someone somewhere has control or an answer helps us feel safe.

But there is danger in the easy answer. Someone offering a quick solution that appears tangible and “real” could be an idol of our own making.

Life in the wilderness is hard. And when we want it to be over, we can find ourselves holding on to someone or something that is not our answer.

In many ways, this “building the golden calf” is a sort of bargaining, a trying to gain control one last time before acknowledging again our sadness at what we have lost and taking our steps toward an uncertain future.

Photo by Christopher Sardegna on Unsplash

In the wilderness, we walk with God, day by day, step by step.

We accept where we are. We eat what we have. We camp for the night. We move on the next day. This is the cycle of wandering in the wilderness … and perhaps what is best during this pandemic.

We may not necessarily know where we are going. Our vision is limited to where we presently are. We try to worry less about the future by grounding ourselves in what is present. This is not the same as walking blindly, but accepting that we can only know this step … then the next.

We will not be returning “home” anytime soon … if ever. There is grief to acknowledge in that. Perhaps this new place has lessons to teach us. Maybe there are promises there that we cannot quite fathom yet. But for now, we’ll pack lightly, walk one step at a time, continue to follow the signs that God has given us, and try to get used to the taste of manna.