The greatest tragedy for the living will be to go back to the way we were before this crisis

Afew years ago a colleague of mine observed that the roads of west Limerick were a dangerous place to travel on a Sunday morning, as you were liable to be mowed down by mobile congregations in search of a ‘fast Mass.’

Like all other road networks, those in west Limerick are remarkably quiet these day, aside from tractors hauling slurry tanks and manure spreaders or the occasional zero grazer.

Everyone else is confined to barracks. The confinement has been most severe on those over 70, a cohort that includes quite a number of active priests.

Technology is offering some relief. The communication platform Zoom has come into its own in the push-back against isolation.

During a ‘Zoom call’ last week a friend, who could be described as knowing his stuff in relation to ecclesiastical affairs, painted a stark picture of what the current crisis means for the church as we know it.

After the Covid restrictions were introduced he was asked to do an audit of clerical personnel in order to establish how many clergymen would be in a position to continue in public ministry. He was also asked to identify lay-people who could lead prayers at the graveside if this is required.

A quick examination of his workforce in terms of their ages and underlying conditions revealed that just 40 priests would be available to serve in the diocese, which includes a large city, a number of sizeable towns and a sprawling rural area.

As the crisis deepens my friend has found himself helping people fill the gaps left by the absent clergy.

This involves making simple resources available to families who want to pray with one another and honour their deceased loved ones at wakes.

Reflecting on what is emerging, he said the church in his diocese now no longer needs to model how things might look ten years from now: this crisis has given them a real-time picture of what will happen.

Decisions left on the long finger are being fast-forwarded. These include decisions around the number of Masses, the number of church

Clean air:

buildings, the number of parishes, the nature of ministry and the involvement of lay-people at many levels.

“Never again,” he says, “can we argue that there has to be Mass in this or that church every weekend. Neither can we insist that the priest has to be present for every aspect of funeral liturgies.”

The great German theologian Karl Rahner described the Church in changing times as always arriving “a little breathless and a little late”.

It is interesting that what is arising from the current crisis is being carefully listened to and swiftly acted on by an institution like the Catholic Church one that thinks in terms of millennia while the rest of us barely look beyond the decade at either side of us.

These ‘corona days’ have strong messages for all sections of society about how we conduct our lives.

Gondolas reflected on the Gran Canal in Venice, where the halt to tourism has led to a remarlable improvement in water and air quality

I know of a man who has a very successful international business based in the UK. He has been working from home since the lockdown began and says that when things settle down, the first thing to be dispensed with will be his plush office in the heart of London: he doesn’t need it and doesn’t need to travel to it.

Burning diesel

Likewise, many people I know who have been happily conducting meetings on Zoom and Skype are adamant that, from now on, travel to Dublin for meetings is going to be a rare occurrence.

“Why should I spend five hours on the road burning diesel for a meeting that will last little more than an hour?” one frequent traveller said to me recently.

Above all else, it is to be hoped that the sigh of relief being breathed by the planet will be listened to.

I worked in Italy in the early 1980s. Every Thursday I became part of the tourism invasion that contributed to the constant churning up of the murky canals of Venice.

And so I was amazed at a film clip taken last week that showed a jellyfish swimming nonchalantly along one of the city’s now crystal-clear waterways.

While there are tragic stories coming out of this crisis by the hour, stories of hope are being written in the clear skies over Delhi, Beijing, London and New York.

When this is all over, the greatest tragedy for the living and the greatest insult to the dead will be for us to go back to the way we were, carrying on as if nothing had happened.