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Good morning. The lockdown on places of worship has begun to ease, and after 4 months of attending online church, many Christians are rejoicing as they gather to celebrate the Eucharist. I remain at home, still unsure of how long it will be until I can safely join in person. For many, this was true before Coronavirus; I have only experienced a brief taste of this restriction, and I know that it will eventually come to an end. And yet my grief over its absence persists; I long for the time when I can once again be invited to eat and drink alongside others gathered in worship.

Last week I broke a different fast. My brother came to visit, and we sat at the same table and ate together. It struck me how much I had missed the pleasure of welcoming someone into my home and sharing a meal. And yet it remained a highly controlled experience, limited to someone I knew well, whose socially distanced actions I could account for. During lockdown we retreated from uncontrolled encounters with others, strictly limiting who we saw, and for how long, and at what distance. Even now, as lockdown eases, attending church services is restricted to who arrives first, or even who books in advance. This is far removed from the hospitality Christians associate with the meal shared at communion. When we come to the Lord’s table, our own interests are left behind. We are not in control of who is invited, who sits beside us, or the grace we receive.

This tension is not limited to church congregations. We face a wider challenge concerning our sense of collective belonging and public trust. We are negotiating the anxious spaces shared by those who have returned to all-but-normal life and those who remain at home. As the latest quarantine rules indicate, we continue to tread murky waters, each step away from our tight circles containing potential danger. If we want to care for each other, we have to keep our distance. I am troubled by the contradiction this poses for each of us. Will we end up limiting our invitation to those we have chosen for our ever-shrinking circles? How will we react to the hospitality of strangers, or come again to a table whose guests we cannot control?

I don’t know the answer, but as we negotiate the current pressure of constantly calculating risks, the temptation to become more suspicious rather than more generous is not one we can ignore. To be in communion – to be in common – with each other, we will have to relinquish some control, leaving our own interests behind. Perhaps we will need to learn new ways to offer welcome.

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