You turn us back to dust, and say, “Turn back, you mortals.” For a thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past, or like a watch in the night. (Psalm 90:3-4)
It was my good fortune during a ministry chapter in my life to make the acquaintance of a man who was both a pastor, educator and community chaplain. He may not have officially carried that last title, but in reality he functioned within his community in that way. This man, over 40+ years of serving the same congregation, working in school administration and living in the same community was well known. To sit with him for lunch in the local café was to have your meal interrupted time and again by folks who dropped by just to share some news, a prayer concern, or extend a friendly hello. Over the time that I knew this gentleman I became aware that he had officiated at over 1,000 weddings and funerals in that community.
By comparison, in my now 30+ years of ordained ministry, I have officiated over 170 funerals and about one third of that number of weddings. I think of those numbers, and especially my friend’s tally, as the United States surpasses 400,000 deaths due to Covid-19. This milestone comes roughly one month after we passed by the 300K marker, meaning that the death rate has vastly accelerated. It’s a number that exceeds all the American casualties in World War II, which occurred over a few years. This 400,000 number came in just 9 months. I could hardly fathom the 1,000 count of services my friend had lived and officiated in his small community over a lifetime. But as I sat over coffee with him in that local café he’d comment about the passers-by: “I did their wedding.” Or, “I did her husband’s funeral”. My point is, by and large, he could put a name and face and story to the many services he had officiated. They weren’t just numbers, they were people.
The same is true, of course, of the 400,000 plus Americans who’ve lost their lives to the virus. You probably know one, or know of someone. They may have been your mother or dad, your brother or uncle, grandparent, neighbor or friend. They are more than a number. They are a name, a face and a story. I applaud the efforts of news organizations who try and tell some of those stories each week. If we fail to do so, we become numb to the numbers.
I was moved this week by the display of light in our nation’s capital surrounding the Lincoln Memorial Reflection Pool in honor of the 400,000. It is a solemn and worthy tribute to all who’ve died. May their names be shared, their faces remembered, and their stories told.