Dear Non-Conference Non-Attendees:

As you may know, a great deal of effort was put into planning and promoting a post-COVID conference scheduled for the second Saturday in March. Pre-registrations were underwhelming, so the week before the event I decided to cancel it. It’s bad form to have more breakout groups than attendees. I’m grateful for the presenters and preparers who were unable to showcase their no-doubt brilliant work; but discussing the impact of the pandemic four years out was clearly uninteresting to a wider public.

Upon reflection, I realize I shouldn’t be surprised. I conceived of an event designed to address the unprocessed grief we carry regarding what was lost during those dark months of soaring death rates and social isolation. I recognize now that a conference organized to address denial is doomed by its own irony.

Perhaps because I spent so much time thinking about the pandemic’s impact on our social psyche, I see its consequences all around us. We lost so very much. A million sisters and brothers, mothers and fathers, friends and elders died with repressed opportunities for their loved ones to mourn. We lost, too, our trust in institutions. Our bureaucracies were ill-equipped to deal with novelty. From the World Health Organization to small town school boards, decisions were made and enforced without manuals or precedents. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, we see more clearly the things we botched; but even an attempt to analyze our mistakes—and perhaps learn from them—still kindles heated arguments. So, collectively, we swallow our distrust and stifle our embarrassment, pretending there are no lingering scars or disabilities.

Except now, when another instance of institutionalized policy comes face to face with a unique configuration of circumstance, disgust and distrust is once again at the forefront. I’m speaking here of the long-standing American script regarding Mid-East policy. Something happened on October 7, 2023, for which the world was not prepared, and the old procedure manual regarding Israeli-Palestinian hostilities seems painfully obsolete.

Overlay this substantial tragedy on college campuses filled with cynical students whose high school proms and graduations were lame Zoom parties, and we wonder why they’re so resistant to institutional protocol. Of course, bad actors on every side are more than happy to exploit anxiety and chaos, but it is our collective unwillingness to address broken trust and failed systems that has left us culturally and socially vulnerable. Why don’t these privileged young people un-pitch their tents, go back to class and leave the big decisions to the proper institutions? Well, they know firsthand how complexity and novelty is handled by the presumed experts. Like the anti-war protestors five decades ago who faced the military draft the day after graduation, they have a significantly higher tolerance for chaos.

There’s an oft quoted verse from 2 Chronicles; it follows Solomon’s prayer dedicating the newly constructed temple in Jerusalem. As the festival closes, God speaks to Solomon, telling him of the grace possible when the nation faces calamity. God says, “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will heal their land." (verse 7.14) If you have evangelical Facebook friends, I’m sure you’ve seen the verse stylized into dramatic memes. But seldom do we highlight the first step in the verse's recipe for reconciliation. It is only deep and true humility that allows us to learn from our mistakes.

Obviously, a humble little conference in a suburban Chicago Presbyterian Church would have made little difference on the international stage of rage; but what we were trying to accomplish was a small drop of process in an ocean of unresolved pain. Institutional destabilization is not righted by the passive voice. “Mistakes were made” is insufficient when the evidence screams, “We screwed up royally!” When we fail to humbly apologize or take responsibility, or humbly confess culpability in the face of reflection, or humbly learn from the tutelage of hindsight, when we fail to humbly address unresolved grief and the scars inflicted by bad guesses, disregard for institutional norms and the status quo will be an ongoing inevitability.

The only thing that surprises me is that we’re surprised.

Hoping for the humility to heal, I remain,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor