On Friday, the Kairos team returned to Kershaw Correctional Institution to do what’s known as an Institutional Reunion in our terminology.  Kairos seeks to form a community between the residents of the institution and outsiders like myself and Clayton.  To that end, we don’t just go and have a weekend with the guys, we aim to foster ongoing relationships with them so that we can all continue growing in Jesus Christ.  I’ve been really fortunate in my time at Kairos to have made some real friends inside.  I sense that I’ve made a new, ongoing friend through this last weekend in Kershaw.  This young man was back for the reunion on Friday and we got a chance to catch up.  One of the things most of the guys feel initially is the change of environment.  During Kairos, we laugh, worship, sing, eat and study together, it’s a real time of authentic community made possible through the Love of our Lord, Jesus Christ.  Then, returning to their ordinary lives at the prison requires an adjustment.  “Back to reality” one of the inmates bemused once as it was time for them to head back into the dorms.  But my new friend and I got to talking about what it feels like to be surrounded by people but, because of the situation, still feeling tremendously lonely.  He said something so profound on Friday that I just had to write it down.  He said – “In this place, loneliness isn’t just a feeling; it’s a constant companion, a shadow that clings closer than my own skin.  It’s the chilling realization that one can be perpetually surrounded and yet profoundly alone, a solitary figure in a crowd, a whisper lost in a storm of silent screams.”  That’s positively poetic, isn’t it?  “A whisper lost in storm of silent screams.”  That guy has a calling as a writer, I do believe.

Anyway, in our frank discussion on loneliness, we covered a lot of ground but we all agreed that just because other people are physically around you, doesn’t mean that you aren’t still somehow isolated.  You know there was a time when I was on a bus and it seemed like all the people had on those ear fangs that have become all the rage these days.  It dawned on me that here was this mass of humanity, this throng that could be connecting on a real, human level, yet what we were all doing with our earphones and our phone screens was trying to isolate ourselves from all the people around us.  I can’t help but see this dynamic spreading out and expanding.  The pandemic only accelerated our retreat from one another.  COVID-19 appeared and, overnight, it became socially acceptable, desirable even, to have fast food delivered to your door rather than take the time and actually bump elbows with other people.

In our sermon today, we delve into an unsettling yet urgent truth:  our society is increasingly turning inward, embracing a solitude that distances us from the communal ties that have historically bound us.  This stark reality is not just anecdotal; it’s vividly illustrated in the decline of institutions that once were the bedrock of our social fabric.  Consider the profound dwindling of memberships in storied social clubs like the Freemasons and the Elks.  These are not mere numbers in a ledger; they are harbingers of a deep-seated shift in our collective ethos.  Reflect on the decline in bowling league memberships.  Once a bustling hub of community and camaraderie, league bowling now struggles to maintain its relevance, its share of bowling business halving over the decades.  This trend is more than a shift in recreational preferences; it’s symptomatic of our growing disconnection from one another.

This detachment from community life is alarmingly evident across the spectrum of American society. The Wall Street Journal and NORC poll findings paint a grim picture:  Americans today place markedly less value on community engagement than they did just a quarter-century ago.  This isn’t a mere change in priorities; it’s a fundamental alteration in the way we view our place in the world.  The decline in participation in civil society institutions, from churches to local school groups, underscores a long-term trend of disengagement.  This isn’t just an abandonment of organizations; it’s a retreat from the communal interactions that enrich our lives and our souls. In an age where technology offers an easy escape into a world of virtual isolation, the allure of digital interaction is progressively supplanting the irreplaceable warmth of human contact.  This technological convenience, while offering unprecedented access to information and entertainment, also presents a seductive path to solitude.  This trend towards isolation isn’t just a societal curiosity; it’s a clarion call for introspection and action.  As we find ourselves increasingly ensnared in the web of individualism, the fabric of our community wears thin.  The implications of this shift are profound. In our pursuit of personal space and digital convenience, we risk losing the essence of what makes us a community: the shared experiences, the collective joys, the mutual support, and the strength that comes from our togetherness.

In this sermon, we delve into the profound impact of loneliness, a silent epidemic that affects not only our hearts and minds but also our bodies and communities.  Imagine living in a world where over a third of adults feel an aching void of disconnect, where despite being surrounded by others, they still feel profoundly alone.  This is not just a feeling; it’s a reality for many, and its effects are devastating.  Loneliness isn’t merely a state of solitude; it’s a chasm between our desire for meaningful connections and our actual experiences.  It’s feeling unseen, unheard, in a world bustling with life.  The toll of this isolation is staggering.  Studies show that loneliness significantly increases the risk of heart disease, stroke, and Type 2 diabetes.  Alarmingly, it can even lead to dementia, with social isolation hiking the risk by 50%.  The implications for mental health are equally dire, with loneliness being a fertile ground for depression, anxiety, addiction, and tragically, even suicidality. These are not just numbers; they are a clarion call highlighting the crisis we face.  Moreover, the economic impact is immense.  Loneliness costs the US economy an estimated $406 billion annually. This stark number reflects not only the health costs but the loss of human potential and productivity. It’s a burden that we all bear, directly or indirectly.