People of faith and those in public health are being led to thinking they are enemies, which serves only those who want the public fractured. In fact, people of faith have always been involved in public health. It would be unthinkable that a county public health department started in the last century did so without clergy on the founding board and the very first meeting opened in prayer.
These are two institutions that care about preventing harm. Both also have the same unattractive side: they are prone to self-righteousness and clarity about how other people should behave. The early days of public health were marked by paternalism and no small amount of scolding.
Faith networks are often quick to see the ways that science can serve as an avenue for mercy. The same movement that created public health created hundreds of faith-based hospitals and much of the vast array of social service agencies.
Amid COVID-19 this complex web of organizations has found its common heart again, collaborating on the ground to get people tested, treated, cared for when quarantined and now vaccinated by the millions.
What does this look like? Phil Icard is as Baptist as a Sunday school teacher can be in Taylorsville, N.C. And as practical a scientist as a small-town pharmacist can be, too. The pharmacy he owns was established by another family in town during the last pandemic, so he appreciates the gift of modern vaccines.
While his church was one of those reluctant to follow the restrictive state mandates, it allowed him to use the church as a mass vaccination site after losing a long tenured and beloved previous pastor to COVID-19. He secured 1,000 vials from the department of health and with the blended credibility of science and faith, the people came.
This is normal behavior, especially for those rooted in the loving-kindness of faith and the humble-spirited love typical of public health. People thronged to Jesus seeking healing, and they still come to those who offer solace amid the fear. Today that can only happen when public health and faith work together.
There is no public health official who wants anything other than strong families and communities of purpose. There is no working pastor who wishes anything other than expressing the compassion rooted in their faith to every member of their community.
An ugly war is being fought in legislatures and on sidewalks across the nation, blaming public health for inconveniences. Dozens of public health leaders are being hounded from office, many working with police protection. Laws are being passed to prohibit public health from doing its core function of protecting the people.
Some of this fight was made needlessly easy to provoke because of ham-fisted restrictions on public worship, often more restrictive than on Walmart and other places where crowds larger than most congregations were still allowed to gather. The battle only plays to the advantage of those who thrive on division and care little about either worship or compassion.
While some faith leaders stoke the culture wars using vaccines as the latest and most cruel cudgel, many pastors know their congregations include people working in hospitals and public health departments. Most pastors are not famous, have few staff and wobbly finances. Public health personnel are even less likely to be well-known. They are the first budgets that get cut and spend most of their time doing the gritty work of inspecting the restaurants, cleaning out rats and planning for things others can’t imagine happening – until they do.
The daily thankless grind of COVID-19 is wearing clergy out and public health people for the same reasons; each faithfully facing amplified false conflict stoked by others. There is no public health official who wants anything other than strong families and communities of purpose. There is no working pastor who wishes anything other than expressing the compassion rooted in their faith to every member of their community. Together, both bring hope and healing to communities and families through the full benefits of 21st century science and timeless faith.
The next months of COVID-19 will depend on small-scale intimate collaboration between healthcare, public health, social services and, of course, the faith networks that gave birth to them long ago. Atrium Health rented out the Panthers stadium, and thousands came. Gene Woods, the CEO of Atrium, stood at the 40-yard line and remembered that it was exactly where the original hospital once stood, created by women of faith working with the best science of their time.
The next phase of the pandemic will be won in church basements, fellowship halls and parking lots where – in tight partnership with public health – people will trust that science is their friend, faith is part of our civic muscle, and that the two working together will result in healing across communities. This is beautiful to behold.
Recently in the basement of Metropolitan United Missionary Baptist Church in Winston-Salem, the vaccination team from Wake Forest Baptist Health worked seamlessly with women from the church to vaccinate 300 neighbors. The church arranged free food boxes. Although no audible prayers were voiced, the Spirit was moving, and prayers were being answered through a beautiful collaboration of science and mercy. Let no one divide what God has brought together.
(EDITOR’S NOTE – Gary Gunderson is vice president of the FaithHealth Division at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center.)
