When the Coronavirus Interrupts Lent

By Sonja Schappert, BJM Director of Operations

As comic relief, I’ve been collecting memes and comics related to the COVID-19 pandemic. One friend posted, “Honestly, I hadn’t planned to give up so much for Lent.”

I didn’t grow up with Lent.  It wasn’t a part of my faith tradition until it started trending in the Protestant church. My first experience with Lent was the Great Coffee Fast of 2003, when I crashed so hard I missed a flight to Chicago. Since then, I’ve given up sugar, media, and caffeine at various intervals.

Even if Lent is a predominantly Catholic practice, the idea of self-denial or fasting as a means of drawing closer to God and becoming more aware of our own mortality—that’s a valuable spiritual discipline that unites us all. Normally we get to choose what we give up for Lent. Now, the choice(s) has been made for us, in many respects. It’s a practice we are all in together now, whether we like it or not. 

I once heard poverty defined as a lack of options. This was counter to everything I thought poverty was and challenged my assumption that everyone could access resources if they wanted. I had never thought of options as wealth before. I had never thought of options as opportunity. I had never thought of options as privilege. 

Now here we are: a season of collective reduced options, thanks to the COVID-19 pandemic. What am I going to find at the store for dinner tonight? How much am I going to pay to get basic necessities like toilet paper? How am I going to juggle my family responsibilities with everything else going on? How do I get the access to healthcare I need for my family right now? Our options are now limited. And we didn’t get to pick what was taken away from us. 

I’ve been thinking about the communities we serve at Because Justice Matters. In some respects, it’s just another day in the Tenderloin. The challenges our community faced before COVID-19 are the ones many of us are facing now. Economic instability. Food insecurity. Cramped homes. Technology and education gaps. Uncertain healthcare access. Social isolation. Fear for the future. Sacrificing wants for needs. Our community in the Tenderloin has been here before. It is their reality. Coronavirus has magnified it. Now we have a glimpse of their reality. 

My prayer for all of us, myself included, is that our season of Lent amid the Coronavirus opens our hearts to the neighborhood around us. Let us be led in this season by those in our community who have gone before us, who show such courage and grace in impossible circumstances. Let us develop a deeper sense of gratitude for the resources we have and an understanding that, when the current crisis is all over, there are those who will continue to live with the same challenges.  

And that is why Because Justice Matters.