I wouldn’t have survived my cancer quarantine without them.Īs a theologian I had never given the invisible church much thought in life before cancer. These virtual connections were not simply poor substitutes for real interaction they filled my soul at a time of despair. As news of my cancer spread virtually, others living with incurable cancer got in touch to offer resources and support. Friends created a virtual calendar of food and cleaning needs. Relatives and friends got in touch through a website focused on caring for those who are sick. These virtual connections were not simply poor substitutes for real interaction they filled my soul at a time of despair.īut amid so much loss, I was introduced to the life-giving possibilities of virtual connectedness. Life as a university professor, involved parent, active churchgoer and participant in community events - all of it came to a halt. Getting diagnosed with incurable cancer, however, provided all sorts of opportunities to reconsider my assumptions about how the world works, including my certainty that virtual connectivity is incapable of enriching our lives.Ĭancer broke my back and treatment landed me in the hospital, sidelining me from in-person interaction except with doctors and nurses, family and a few close friends. I used to be a digital skeptic, dubious that virtual connectedness could foster any meaningful relating among us. Immanuel Lutheran Church in Amherst, Massachusetts. She is the author of five books, including The Virtual Body of Christ in a Suffering World (Abingdon, 2016), and in this post weighs in on an issue facing churches across the globe during the pandemic: whether and how to do virtual communion. This inaugural blog post of the Lutheran Center for Faith, Values, and Community is written by Director Deanna A.
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