Bridges Over Troubled Waters: Faith Leaders Reflect on a Year of Lockdown

Psalm 89:9
You rule the swelling of the sea;
When its waves rise, You still them.

So often we think of imagery, metaphors and symbols that relate to water when we think of our faith. Water is truly the essence of life as we process what the earth is made up of, what the body is made of and how we eliminate toxins in the body. We can often become dehydrated, both in the spiritual sense and the physical sense, and long for something fresh, something new, something life-giving to wash over us. Have you ever been in this place where the well ran out, where your heart just hurt or you couldn’t quite understand why your reality felt like it was lacking a little something or a whole lot of something?

This past year, the waters were troubled, the waters were stirred up, the waters reached a boiling point…a tsunami, even, in its impact. So many of us felt consumed and overtaken by what we thought was going to be the year of perfect vision and smooth sailing. Instead, we succumbed to close to 1,000 people dying by the hands of law enforcement, most of whom roamed this earth in Black skin. We witnessed the poor handling of a global outbreak and, now in the United States of America, sit with half a million lives lost, and counting. As a member of the queer community, trans siblings were murdered and brutally beaten in the street, folks were in need of healing due to chronic conditions of the body and the mind. We isolated ourselves from one another, broken-hearted, devastated, defeated–and now the collective trauma and grief is washing up to shore.

At 33 years of age, I know a little something about the waters running dry–see, I lived with kidney disease for some time in my life. I know a lot about having expectations, and they suddenly halt, as if by magic. I remember the long nights of dialysis, edema in my feet, swelling in my face, cycle halting, toxins building up and only being able to take small sips of water throughout my days.

During those times, I remembered as a child they would sing:

“Wade in the water, God’s-a-gonna trouble the water.”

Our scripture, and this spiritual, remind us that we are not in charge of the storm. We are in charge of how we show up in it. We are not in control of the elements, but we surely have the power to work with them. Yes, we thought Jesus was sleeping on that boat, but we are the ones sleeping on the role we are to play in the midst of this pandemic we are in. In the midst of the pain, in the midst of the rebuilding, in the midst of pressing on, in the midst of wading and waiting.

2020 was an example of what happens when waves arise. But surely life-giving waters are flowing through my body yet again. Have faith and know: Our Creator will calm the swelling seas, still the troubled waters and empower us to live again!

I turned to my rabbinic colleagues earlier this year and sighed. We had just completed our 23rd funeral in four weeks due to COVID-19, and it was all starting to feel like it was just too much. “Take care of yourself,” my Senior Rabbi Ed Feinstein said. “We still have a long road ahead.” As I walked to the car, wanting so badly to hug our congregants who had lost their mother, I could sense how very stricken they were. It turns out that even the indomitable N95 mask isn’t strong enough to filter out grief. I looked out over the valley in which I live and thought, “Is this really the new normal?”

It’s been a year since I went into quarantine. On March 6, I returned from a conference and got the message that COVID-19 cases had just been traced back to the event. I locked myself away from my family and friends, not knowing that this was just the beginning. We’ve now celebrated every birthday in our house, every holiday and every anniversary with drive-bys and Zoom dinners. We all are now familiar with the broken-organ sound of a family singing “Happy Birthday” simultaneously together on Zoom. It’s awful.

What worries me most is when I see our children give “air hugs’ to their teachers as if that is normal, or when teenagers feel that Snapchat instead of a sidewalk chat is the normal way of life. This pandemic has forced us to raise a generation that sanitizes affection and human connection. What will be the long term effects of a society that never knows the warmth of a heartbeat against our skin or the strength of a new companion’s handshake?

There is an old parable in my tradition that relates to this question. Once, there was a wise king whose wizard noticed that the harvest that year was cursed. “Anyone who eats this grain will go insane!” said the wizard. “There is only enough grain from this year’s harvest to feed one person next year–what shall we do?”

The king thought for a moment and found a child and said to her, “You are to eat of this grain and no other. Do you understand me?”

The child said, “Yes.”

“Good,” said the king, “for the rest of us will go mad, and we need you, my dear one, to remind us of our mania.”

And so it was, for the next year, the child rode around the kingdom, shouting, “Friends, remember what you are doing isn’t normal, it is the madness that has you!”

We need this child’s wisdom now more than ever. We must all remind each other that the task of this moment is to remember that what we experience in the craziness of COVID-19 is not normal and not right. God, after all, created us to be together (Gen. 2:18). We shall not allow the madness to seize us, and when this cursed harvest ends, we must find ways of coming back together to hold each other’s hands, to feel another’s tear upon our cheek and cast off the darkness that loneliness brings.

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Sangha is the glue that holds the Buddhist practice together. During these challenging times, Buddhist practitioners have found it difficult to be separated from their Sangha. The most common question and comment from Buddhist practitioners during COVID times has been, “When is the temple opening up again?” or “I miss going to temple.” Since the Buddha’s time, Buddhists have sought a place of refuge to come together and both listen to and practice the Dharma. Having a place where the Sangha can meet is an invaluable asset to all Buddhists. This is especially the case for immigrant Buddhist communities, in which Buddhist temples are not only a spiritual refuge but also a cultural and familiar refuge. For many immigrant Buddhists, the temple is the axis of their ethnic communities. For these Buddhists, there is no division between the spiritual and the secular; their entire worlds converge at the temple, where the Sangha comes together.

So, what can we do now that we are approaching and have endured about a year of being separated from our Sanghas, not being able to meet at the temple? As we Buddhists know, the Buddha was a master of skillful means, quick to adapt to new situations, and the exemplary embodiment of patience and endurance. For instance, during the time of the Buddha, when the community was faced with a famine, the Buddha allowed his monastics, who traditionally only lived on the alms-food offered by the laity, to take part in a meal-ticket system that the king had set up as a relief effort. Here we can see how both the Buddha and the Sangha were quick to adapt to changing circumstances, and in a similar way, although we as Buddhists rely on seeing each other at the temple, we can now take advantage of and adapt to new mediums of coming together. Since the onset of the COVID-19 stay-at-home orders, various Buddhist organizations started taking the practice online. Zoom, Facebook live and YouTube are just a few examples of where Sanghas come together nowadays. Quite interestingly enough, when it was time for the Buddha to pick the type of bowls that Buddhist monastics would use, the Buddha picked the newest technological innovation in bowls, which was the black earthenware bowls. In a similar spirit, we can be quick to take on new innovations that allow us to be together, although we may be physically apart. Buddhists have a long history of being able to adapt and harmonize with new times and places, and it is this adaptability that has allowed Buddhism to endure for over 2,500 years and to have spread throughout the world.

Finally, I would like for you to reflect on the Buddha’s words from the Maha-Mangala sutta, the discourse on the highest blessing, in which the Buddhas says, “Puṭṭhassa lokadhammehi, Cittaṃ yassa na kampati, Asokaṃ virajaṃ khemaṃ, Etaṃ maṅgalamuttamaṃ” (“He whose mind remains unmoved, when untouched by the problems of the world–sorrowless, stainless and secure–this is the highest blessing”).

Here unmoved means not agitated, distraught, afflicted or reactionary to things in the world. This is not a call to inaction, however, but an effort to see things clearly in difficult situations. Only when our minds are centered, composed and open can we properly and skillfully respond to difficult situations when they arise. This mental equipoise grants us the wisdom and power to intelligently manage the vicissitudes of our lives.

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A little over a year ago, I was preparing to offer communion to my congregation. Los Angeles First United Methodist Church owns land on the corner of Flower and Olympic, near the Staples Center. We met outdoors under pop-up tents in the middle of our beloved, drowsy city, and on a gray January day, our parking lot was beginning to fill up with sleek black vehicles transporting attendees to the Grammys. As I approached the first parishioner to offer him the communion elements, he whispered over the low din of traffic: Kobe Bryant is dead.

As days stretched into weeks of mourning, the news cycles continued with reports about the helicopter crash which took the lives of nine innocent people. Interspersed were ongoing updates about the virus, which was slowly starting to appear in the United States. For many Angelenos, we couldn’t imagine anything worse than a beloved sports hero, in the prime of his life, dying alongside his daughter and so many of their friends. As the flowers began to fade and the murals began to dry, the tears of mourning shifted into the quiet dread that the deadly strain of the coronavirus was not being contained.

March 15, 2020 was the last day my congregation met for worship in person. Since then, we have moved from our tents in the parking lot to our own homes, for those blessed to have them. I went from being a street preacher to being a televangelist. We are in exile, our makeshift tabernacle is packed away in the POD sitting on our lot, and we have traded passing the peace for greetings in the chatbox.

The Christian tradition has just begun the season of Lent, which is our opportunity to enter into the wilderness as Jesus did at the start of his ministry. This season is dedicated to spiritual disciplines of fasting, prayer and austerity. We are invited to “give something up,” just as Christ sacrificed on our behalf.

But this year, it felt wrong to invite my congregation to “give something up.” We have given up so much already: our health, our work, our normal ways of being. The grip that sorrow has on our hearts is unyielding, and we are living through ongoing trauma. The prayer of my heart is less often one of praise and more often an echo of the Israelites’ plea with God: “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?” (Numbers 21:5)

The Christian tradition is steeped in suffering. We believe that God entered the world as Jesus. We believe that God lived, suffered and died so that none of our human experiences would happen outside of God’s own experience. God chose to suffer because we suffer. But, we also believe that suffering does not have the last word on our experience.

“Indeed, God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him” (John 3:17). I continue to hope that, even if what we’ve lost cannot be restored, that we can be saved from our despair.

Rather than being defined by our suffering, we have dedicated our Lenten discipline to hope. This year, we are choosing to be defiant in our joy and subversive in our hope.

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Bismillah al-Rahman al-Raheem. In the name of God, the Most Compassionate, the Most Merciful.

Serving as a healthcare and community chaplain, I have the immense honor to accompany our brothers and sisters in humanity in seeking to make sense out of suffering, pain and crisis. Those in crisis may ask questions like, “Why is this happening to me,” or, “Where is God in all of this?”

The most important gift we may provide to ourselves and others is a willingness to hold space for these questions. Rather than assume a lack of, or instability, in faith, can we begin to hear these questions as representing a process to interpret the crisis to regain direction.

When the early Muslim community endured the burden of exile from their home in Mecca, they, according to the verse in the Qur’an, “were touched by poverty and hardship and were shaken until their Messenger and those who believed with him said, ‘Where is the help of God?’”

The response to their verbalized suffering is immediate and striking. God responds to the believers enduring exile that “Indeed, God’s help is near.” Not even an aya, or verse, separates the question asked out of crisis from God’s reassuring response.

Unquestionably, the help of God is near. He who sends us the trials also sends us the tools and resources to overcome them. What I have learned in my ministry over the past year is that, despite tremendous personal hardship, something deep within our souls yearned to know and grow closer to the Most Compassionate. We explored ways in which God revealed Himself to us over this past year. We moved inward to consider our past and reprioritize for our future. We reflected on how we were never really in control as much as we thought we were or wanted to be.

God says in the Quran (31:34), “Knowledge of the Hour belongs to God; it is He who sends down the relieving rain and He who knows what is hidden in the womb. No soul knows what it will reap tomorrow, and no soul knows in what land it will die; it is God who is all knowing and all aware.” The unknown remains unknown for a reason–not for us to fear it, or assume the worst of it, but to recognize our humility in not knowing, not controlling such that we return to the One who does Know, Who is in Control.

We find healing and hope in exploring our questions together, bearing witness to one another, and clearing our mutual paths of the obstacles barring deeper connection to God. This year, we learned that a community may not always look like a large room filled to capacity, but could simply look like two souls in full presence of one another.

I pray that the Most Gentle protects us all, showers us with His gentleness, mercy and compassion, and that He reunites us in the best way, in His perfect timing. Ameen.

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My name is Sarbjit Singh and I am a social activist for the Southern California Sikh community. I want to share my reflection regarding COVID-19 and what I have learned throughout lockdown–specifically, what the Southern California Sikh community has faced. One of the main concepts in Sikhism is Sangat–the collective spirit of Sikhs as manifested through collective actions and represented at both local and global levels through community outreach. Due to the strict lockdown orders, the Sikh Sangat was not able to meet for weekly congregations at the Gurdwara (Sikh temple). The Gurdwara is a place where the community prays together, cooks together and learns about Sikh religious values. This really affected the children and elderly, who always looked forward to going to the temple.

We know that COVID-19 is a disease that no one is immune to, regardless of race, caste, creed, religion, etc. Everybody is treated the same in the realms of nature. We are all in this together, and our faith is sustaining us together. We have realized that no matter how devastating the situation is, no matter what happens, faith gives us guidance to stay safe together. Technology has played an important role in helping us adjust to these unusual conditions. Zoom meetings are used daily to ensure that prayers are reaching every home of the Sikh Sangat. Sacred hymns are being sung on Facebook live and YouTube, so families may have an experience of being at the Gurdwara from the comfort of their homes. We are making this best of the situation to ensure our faith is strong.

We are honored by saying, “Live to serve.” Due to COVID-19, lots of businesses have closed, jobs have been lost and half a million people have died in the US. At Khalsa Care Foundation,  one of the Sikh Gurdwaras in the city of Pacoima, the Sangat got together and started preparing meals in collaboration with Mayor Eric Garcetti and Councilwoman Monica Rodriguez. We have prepared and served over one million meals to low-income families, seniors, hospitals and homeless shelters. We also have a food pantry called Khalsa Food Pantry, where we provide more than 900 families with food and groceries every Friday. The concept of Langar–free communal food for everyone–is very important in our religion. At any Sikh temple you go to, you will be served free vegetarian food.

Our holy scripture, Sri Guru Granth Sahib, says, “In the midst of this world do selfless service and you shall be given a place of honor in the court of the Lord.” The three basic principles of Sikhism are to earn an honest living, to share your earnings with everyone and to remember God constantly.

Although many people have been getting vaccinated, and the numbers of deaths and new infections are coming down, it’s not over yet. We have to remember we are all in this together, and we will get through this difficult time together.

May God bless all.

In Luke 8:22 we learn that one day Jesus said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side of the lake.” So, they got into a boat and set out.

The other side feels so far away!

Several years ago, I had the privilege of traveling to Egypt and Israel. On the trip, we took a boat ride across the Sea of Galilee. It was the sea that Jesus traversed a few times with his disciples. The purpose of the boat trip was to give us a sense of how long they would have been at sea and how the miracles would have played out for Jesus’ disciples. What should have been a simple two-hour boat ride turns into an overnight fiasco for the disciples, as an unexpected storm rises up and delays their travel. It made sense on that trip why the disciples lost hope when faced with storms, winds and rain: All they wanted was to get to the other side.

The other side represented hope, calm, security, safety and rest from all the “healing” work that had just taken place. Still, they were stuck on a boat, and the other side was so close, yet so far away.

Pastoring through this pandemic has been like a stormy quest of just trying to get to the other side. In the beginning, many people said things like, “We’ll get on the other side of this disease.” But we are coming up on one year of lockdown, and we are still not on the other side. What we expected to be a simple two-week, then two-month shut-down is now reaching 12 months, more than 500,000 deaths, lost businesses, lost wages, lost loved ones, and we are still not on the other side. Some days, when the weight of this storm is pounding down, the other side feels so far away.

As a pastor, it is my role to preach the good news in the biblical text. The good news is this: The disciples eventually get to the other side with Jesus, but not without wrestling with a very long night. I have a similar prophetic role in the midst of this multi-layered pandemic–in the midst of all the racial and political tensions we have contended with at the same time–which is to help my congregation and community stay in the boat (stay in your home) and survive the storm as best you can; to shed light on the fact that, even if it feels so far away, with the right sailing mates (Jesus, faith, hope, belief, prayer and collective work to survive and thrive at sea) there is a brighter side, a better side, a re-imagined side, a healthier side, a more equitable side, a side for the unhoused, a side for the undocumented, a side that honors–finally honors–indigenous people, Black people, Latinx people, queer and trans people. There are safer shores ahead, on the other side.

I am hopeful about the other side. God please don’t let us down when we get to the other side!

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In January of 2020, Taal Volcano in the Philippines began to erupt. At the time, I thought that would be the scariest thing my family would ever have to endure. Of course, I was wrong. My family watched as red flames and black smoke rose overhead, sweeping away the ash as it covered their homes and the whole landscape. They were able to put distance between themselves and the volcano. Yes, the fish would rise to the top of Taal Lake, being suffocated by ash. Even their livestock would perish on the farm. But everyone got out of town safely, taking refuge at my mother’s house, 20 minutes away.

In 2020, the twin pandemics of COVID-19 and racial injustice would take a bigger toll on our family.

Last April, my cousin Tina was leaving an Asian grocery near her home in Arizona. She didn’t notice a man in the parking lot, but he took notice of her. As she got into her car, he also climbed into his. As she pulled out of the parking lot, so did he. He followed her, and when the light turned red, he hopped out of his car and bashed in her brake lights. She screamed, then drove away as fast as possible–putting as much distance as she could between her and her perpetrator. The crime would go unreported.

At what cost does this self-effacement come? When violence against our being is diminished such that it is unworthy of attention–by the authorities and even our families. I listened as my family convinced me they were okay, that it was no big deal, that the brake lights had already been fixed the next day. What does one do with this grief, of being a target because of one’s race? “It’s not that bad,” is what my Mom used to say, just as she would describe her experience of immigrating to Arizona in the early 1970s. She doesn’t talk about the discrimination she faced, because it’s “not a big deal.” Yet, I know the truth–that Asians are perpetual foreigners in this country, never truly achieving status as Americans.

Always on the outside.

When COVID-19 arrived on the West Coast, two of my aunts were working full-time in an elder homecare facility. Have you heard the numbers? Although Filipino nurses make up just 4 percent of the nursing workforce in the U.S., they constitute one-third of nursing deaths. In May, one of my aunts, who is over 60 years old, visited an urgent care center for a cough that was getting worse. Within an hour of her visit, she was rushed to the nearest hospital, with a positive COVID-19 test. The next day, she was no longer responding to text messages or calls. She was no longer able to use her phone, as she had consented to being put on a ventilator. She spent two weeks on that ventilator and survived, with side effects that are lingering to this day.

Natural disasters, hate crimes, systematic violence and political unrest.

2020 was a year for confronting broken systems and embracing family and friends from afar. 2020 offered a lesson on giving into the chaos. Acknowledging the things we have no control over and making the best with the realms of influence we do have.

As a secular humanist, I believe in good, and that it is my responsibility to bring about good in my one and only lifetime. Humanists tend to pray with their hands and feet–not to a higher power, but by being of service, wherever their values can be put into action. So, although I could no longer physically go to work during the pandemic, I COULD go to the corner to help pack items at the local food pantry. Although I could not see an end to police violence, I COULD show up to a Black Lives Matter protests with my secular sangha–showing our support and elevating the voices of Black leaders.

There is no way to make sense of chaos. But a year into the pandemic lockdown, I have found strength in deepening my relationships with family and friends, loved ones who sustain me through the grief of this time. I found hope in the creativity of human beings, who despite “all the things” (loss of loved ones, loss of jobs, loss of homes, etc. )–despite all these things, are generating new ways of being and thriving.

While I may not believe in a God or higher powers, I do believe in humans and our ability to problem-solve creatively–such as the world’s scientists racing to create a vaccine; to BLM capturing the heart and attention of the world; and to all those home bakers and gardeners, becoming experts in sourdough cultures or growing their own greens.

It is this human ability to create, that continues to bring me hope.

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I was reared in the Catholic tradition, born here in Los Angeles of Mexican heritage. My faith has grown over the years, going to Catholic schools and praying the scriptures daily.  However, more than what I’ve learned in church sermons and spiritual reading, it’s what I observed from my parents day by day when I was a child that is the foundation for my faith. And so my faith lies in a loving God, not a God who sits on a throne constantly judging me. Faith in a loving God is what I carried into the COVID-19 pandemic a year ago.

I have heard some people with religious beliefs claim that God is punishing us with this virus. I know in my heart that this is not the God I believe in. I believe in a God who loves me unconditionally, a God I can trust. I learned this from watching my mother holding her newborn, my baby sister, when I was 6 years old. As I watched my mother look lovingly into my sister’s eyes, my sister was learning to trust. I thought to myself, My mother must have looked at me the same way.

So, I grew up feeling secure and trusting the ones who care for me, beginning with my parents. Isn’t that God, reassuring and loving me through them? John’s Gospel can be summed up in three words: God is Love. 1 John 4:18 tells me, “In love there can be no fear, and fear is driven out by perfect love.” I go back often to this verse because it’s one of my favorites.

The story of the Good Samaritan I learned from my father, not because he read it to me, but because he lived it. Once, driving down the street, he stopped the car all of a sudden and jumped out. We saw him run to a woman who lay bleeding in the street. He picked her up and put her gently into the back seat with us and told us to hold her. We drove to the hospital where he took her to the emergency room and waited to make sure she was okay.                                                                                                                                                                 What gives me hope during this pandemic? What gives me hope are the many stories I have seen on TV, stories of modern day Good Samaritans helping those in need: thousands of people donating to food banks across the country, children being moved with compassion and raising money to feed the poor and the homeless, a Black man carrying a wounded white supremacist to safety during an unfortunate clash–all those who, by their actions, preach the Reign of God here and now, a reign of love, justice and peace. Is not God acting in all those Good Samaritans? These stories that I witness give me so much hope now and hope for a better future for everyone.

I have received daily doses of hope from my religious sisters and my family. After the death of George Floyd, I decided to invite the sisters in my religious congregation to a virtual Listening Circle, and 32 sisters responded. Every Sunday since June 7, 2020 we have met to listen to one another without judgment, believing that everyone deserves to be listened to with respect. Most of us, including myself, have had times of depression or feelings of helplessness. We encourage and support one another, and we always end with prayer and hope. During this COVID time, there have been many opportunities for us to become a better city, a better country, a better world, opportunities for us to help someone in need. What we do with these opportunities to bring the Reign of God to the world is up to each one of us to choose or to refuse.

Prayer, alone and with my community, has always strengthened my faith. Some people say that God does not answer prayers. There’s the story of a man caught in a flood that kept rising. He eventually ended up on his roof praying, “O God, please save me.” A man came by in a boat and told him to get in. The man on the roof declined the offer, saying, “God is going to save me.” He kept praying, “O God, please save me.” Just then a helicopter came down and tried to rescue him. He answered again: “No, God is going to save me.” Well, the flood kept rising, and the man drowned and went to heaven. He asked God, “Why didn’t you answer my prayers?” God replied, “Well, I sent you a boat and then a helicopter to save you but you refused my help.”

God does answer prayers, and sometimes we’re just not ready to see things any other way but our own. I believe God speaks to us in the people around us–family, friends and even strangers, those in whom we place our trust. How else can God love us, care for us, be generous to us, except through loving and trusting one another? My faith and hope have grown in this way.

It’s hard not to be in control. This pandemic has reminded me that God is completely in control. For me, my faith relies on a God of unconditional love.

My prayers to all who have loved ones in heaven now, especially those taken by the virus. Sorrow is real, but times like these are when our faith is strengthened. Thank you and may we all be blessed by the God of Unconditional Love!

My sisters and brothers, I stand before you this morning as we embrace the new year to remind you that, despite the stings in life, it is still worth it to play the game–despite the hurts of 2020 and the coldness of heart on display across our nation, punctuated by protest, pandemic and provocations that elicited great joy and pain. It is still worth playing the great game of life. Paul reminds us that the race is not given to the swift or to the strong but to those who endure until the end.

And I believe this morning God just sent me here to give you the playbook to survive another year of the pandemic in 2021 and encourage you to stay in the game. I know the adversary is plotting against you, but stay in the game. I know someone can testify that the joy I have, the world didn’t give me and the world can’t take away. Even when 500,000 loved ones have lost the fight to COVID-19, something inside of me keeps telling me to stay in the game.

The proposition that we must push forward when all around us seems uncertain is enough to cause you to reconsider whether you are on the right track. Yet, I remind you that even in the midst of transition, God gives us a playbook. Deuteronomy 31:6 tells us that there was a great leader, in spiritual terms perhaps the greatest leader up until Jesus, who found himself at the door of his crossing over. A crossing over from head shepherd to a member of the flock.

Moses, God’s prophet and priest, is directed to appoint another to lead the people to the promised land. God tells Moses that there will be a peaceful transition of power, for his time is up and he will not see the dream that he dreamed for God’s people come into full manifestation, but Joshua will.

In this moment, Moses shows us that true leadership is not only how we lead while in power but also how you pass the baton. That’s a message for all of us: This game that you are playing in life did not begin with you, and it will not end with you, because the Convener of the game spoke you into existence.

Shakespeare quips, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”

Moses makes the transition because God said the first play in the playbook is for Moses and Joshua to “be strong and courageous.”

In 2021, as we navigate another year of pandemic, you must live your life with the affirmation, “I am strong and courageous.” I am strong and courageous because God has called me to this moment. And if God has called you to this moment, then you ought not be afraid.

Yes, I know everything did not go as planned. During 2020, I had to postpone my wedding and sit with too many families who had to tell their loved ones goodbye from a distance. People like Helen Liley (who lost her husband), Deacon Joan Anderson, Rev. Michael Ray-Matthews and countless others. Yet, I am reminded that Moses never saw the promised land, but God still calls him from the mountaintop and directs his path until Moses breathes his last.

Be strong and courageous, for greater is he that is in me than he that is in the world. Be strong and courageous, because we have this hope within our souls, and it’s brighter than the perfect day. God has given us his spirit and he wants the world to hear it. Be strong and courageous, because I know who holds tomorrow.

My sisters and brothers, we claim in this nation that we are one nation under God, but I am not sure we believe it, because our actions show that we do not believe that God is still speaking in our time. That’s why the deception of Make America Great Again can cause an insurrection–because we would rather go back to the chains that we know than trust the Lord to walk among us and speak life and light to our nation.

God reminds us that it may get bad, but be strong and courageous, for I am giving you the land of promise, therefore you have no reason to fear. A Black preacher from Morehouse and a Jewish man were elected to the Senate from the red clay of Georgia to remind us that joy comes in the morning. Can I get a witness?

Coronavirus took our livelihoods and loved ones, but in each of our lives it reminded us that the greatest gifts of all are life itself and the ability to love. Can I get a witness?

They paraded white privilege and rage in a terrorist scheme upon the Capitol while the nation was facing a pandemic and recession, but in 1933 FDR faced a similar situation with an even more divided world and struck a New Deal for the nation. Someone said, I’ve seen you work for others, and I want you to work for me. Can I get a witness?

Do not be afraid of them, for the Lord your God is with you and has left a cloud of witnesses.

Black Lives Matter–that’s a statement, a testimony and a witness. Our blood being stolen and spilled is the greatest sin of this nation, yet our faith, dreams and votes keep saving the nation from utter destruction. Can I get a witness?

I hear the witness to glory ask, “If God be for you, then who can stand against you?”

I know there are giants in the land this morning: giants of inferiority, racism, classim, poverty, exploitation, consumerism, comparative mindsets, economic collapse. But God is with you.

So, walk together children, Don’t get weary. Talk together children, don’t you get weary. There’s a great camp-meeting in the promised land.

God is with you. You will be victorious in 2021 because you know the plays to run to get to the promised land. In that land of promise it does not matter what zip code you were born in because you have strength and courage within.

In that land, dreams deferred do die, but because God is with you and faith is in you.

Stay in the game, you will be victorious. Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, for the Lord your God goes with you. He will never leave you nor forsake you.

The founder of Self-Realization Fellowship, Paramahansa Yogananda — who is widely regarded as the Father of Yoga in the West — shared this prayer-affirmation: “Dear Father, whatever conditions confront me, I know that they represent the next step in my unfoldment. I will welcome all tests because I know that within me is the intelligence to understand and the power to overcome.”

These words are so applicable during this COVID-19 pandemic, which has been a tremendous test for so many. Yet, Yogananda often explained that this world, with its tests, is in a sense a spiritual “school” in which we are meant to learn life’s lessons. He said, “Use every trial that comes to you as an opportunity to improve yourself.”

One of the most powerful means for self-improvement is through strengthening our minds. And we can do this — even during difficult times such as we are going through — by thinking positive thoughts, by practicing affirmations and, most importantly, through applying scientific methods of meditation. The deeper we meditate, the more we are able to realize that we are not these physical bodies, but rather we are an immortal soul, capable of using infinite inner resources to transcend all fears, limitations and anxieties.

So, in Self-Realization Fellowship, this past year has actually been an opportunity for spiritual growth. Many of our members have used this time to meditate more deeply, to pray for others, to reflect on how to improve themselves and how to serve others through acts of kindness. We have heard of members who have reached out to others who may have lost their jobs or had real financial challenges and offered them accommodations in their homes until they could get back on their feet. Some of our younger members have aided seniors by buying groceries or medical necessities for them, and by finding ways to stay in touch so they don’t feel isolated. These acts of selflessness are very much a part of Paramahansa Yogananda’s aims and ideals “to serve mankind as one’s larger Self.”

During this COVID lockdown, our members have shared how they have been drawn closer to their families, and how their homes have become the centers of their spiritual life. They have used their time to focus more deeply on their spiritual lives through their own daily efforts and study of the techniques of meditation taught by Paramahansa Yogananda, and by participating in SRF’s greatly expanded online programs, which include meditations, inspirational services, our Worldwide Prayer Circle, study groups and all-day retreats. One member said, “It seems God has used the COVID lockdown to reach into our homes to create a wellspring of in-home spirituality!”

I would like to close with these words of Paramahansaji: “God has given us one tremendous instrument of protection — more powerful than machine guns, electricity, poison gas, or any medicine — the mind. It is the mind that must be strengthened….An important part of the adventure of life is to get hold of the mind, and to keep that controlled mind constantly attuned to the Lord. This is the secret of a happy, successful existence.…It comes by exercising mind power and by attuning the mind to God through meditation.…The easiest way to overcome disease, disappointments, and disasters is to be in constant attunement with God.”