Citing the work of Rodney Stark, a sociologist of religion, Pastor Dudley told me that one of the reasons Christianity grew so rapidly is that when plagues hit the Roman Empire and so many people, including physicians, rushed out of the city, Christians rushed in to care for the sick, often dying themselves as they did so.

“That kind of sacrificial love coupled with incredible courage convinced an unbelieving world that Jesus was Lord,” Pastor Dudley said. How we live out sacrificial love will be different, he acknowledged. We know more about diseases and how they spread than the early Christians did, so we need to follow social-distancing guidelines, but the principle of healing the wounded still applies.

“If, in this pandemic, Christians care first and care most, we may find ourselves in a whole different dialogue between the church and our culture than what has been primarily a very toxic dialogue,” Pastor Dudley said. “Jesus, Christians and the church may have a better reputation if we rush into care with courage and sacrificial love.”

What the church can also offer the world, according to the Rev. Dr. Bill Fullilove, a pastor at McLean Presbyterian Church and an Old Testament scholar, is a reason to care for others, because, as he put it, “we view each of these men, women and children — no matter their belief or behavior or anything else — as being made in the image of God and therefore inherently valuable.” Christianity provides a kind of anthropology of care and solidarity with others, including those living in the shadows of society.

Leaning into the world’s pain during a pandemic can be done in a way that respects social distancing. Ministers told me their churches are donating surgical masks, reallocating significant sums of money toward Covid-19 relief and hiring laid-off restaurant workers to make meals for the unemployed. They are aiding homeless shelters and purchasing tablets that allow distance learning for schools serving children of low-income families. Congregants are signing up to bring food to those in need, with younger people volunteering to pick up groceries for older people. Some are offering their facilities to be used by cities in any way they need, including as field hospitals if necessary.

None of these acts of generosity is unique to churches, but they are characteristic of many of them. According to Peggy Wehmeyer, a former religion correspondent for ABC who attends Highland Park United Methodist in Dallas, “I think it will change this historic church forever.”

Some high-profile Christians presume they can divine the messages God is sending the world through suffering, natural disasters and pandemics. But most Christians I know, and all of those with whom I was in touch, wisely stay away from attempting to answer the “Why?” question. They point to the prophet Job, whose friends were rebuked by God for trying to do precisely that. And it was Jesus, in the agony on the cross, who cried out, “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” If God didn’t see fit to answer Job or Jesus, God is not likely to feel the need to answer us.