COVID-19 and the tale of 2 churches
We muse regularly about how the pandemic has altered our spaces and habits, perhaps permanently. Many who embraced remote work aren’t eager to return to crowded cubicle farms. The real estate industry sees less demand for office space and greater demand for homes with plenty of outdoor living. The changes go on and on.
The same forces have reshaped religion, too. While news stories featured churches defying shutdown advisories, most houses of worship, it seems, were trying to figure out how to act responsibly and still meet people’s needs.
Deutschtown’s Cityview Church is one that launched Sunday services on Zoom early on. That didn’t work for everybody, though, and some congregants slipped away, said the Rev. Leeann Younger, who co-pastors with her husband, the Rev. Wayne Younger.
Before COVID-19, the meeting space in their vibrant community center “was packed,” she said. “We had lunch every Sunday, we had rhythms we were in,” but the location and style of their services evolved as the pandemic surged and waned.
A traditional-style service via Zoom gave way last summer to openair, semi-traditional services in West Park. Winter brought a return to Zoom, but with a more participatory discussion format. Pastor Leeann now opens the last quarter-hour of the service for people’s reflections on the day’s topic.
“When you step out of business as usual, away from what you’ve been told is the only way, it’s a little dizzying,” she said. “No — it’s sickening.”
For Easter, they decided to meet on the lawn outside their front door. A crowd of 60 turned up. With 30 or 40 gathering weekly now, they remain outdoors.
A month ago, “someone joined our congregation because they walked by and we were outside,” said Pastor Leeann. Had the church met inside, “they would never have come through the door. They’ve been back every week since.”
Like the congregants, the service format has changed, Pastor Leeann said. “The formality, the sense that somebody knows all the answers — all those those things we threw out. On purpose.”
On the surface, my church could hardly be more different, but we’ve had a similar journey. Though First Presbyterian Church of Pittsburgh is one of the city’s most awe-inspiring buildings, it is at heart, like Cityview, a community center where programs and services have been upended by COVID.
In March 2020, when we had to stop in-person worship, a skeleton crew of pastors and musicians held a stripped-down service and streamed it live on Facebook using someone’s smartphone.
Through the months without our weekly open-door meals or congregation or choir, we’ve had to rethink many things. We shifted to curbside, carryout meals. We held Bible studies on Zoom. A few mask-wearing musicians replaced the choir.
Some changes are here to stay. Some will be melded with the old formats when it’s safe, to create a stronger new approach.
Many churches, synagogues and mosques have faced the same challenges. We’ve learned how to re-evaluate what we thought was set in stone.
That was the heart of a recent parable Pastor Leeann presented to Cityview congregants for discussion. “Jesus talks about building your house ona rock versus building it on sand.
“One of the things I asked was, ‘What happens when the thing you thought was a rock turns out to be sand?’
“Honestly, I think that’s something the pandemic revealed to many of us. Education, achievement, money, power — things that disappeared, things we were taught to buy into as ‘The Rock’ but learned the limitations of.”
Mid-pandemic surveys showed that for one-quarter to one-third of Americans, religious faith has become more important. Only 4% said it’s less important. I wonder how many of the 4% felt the rock beneath their feet turn to sand and have yet to find a new foundation.
I like Pastor Leeann’s goal for Cityview: “We’re endeavoring to build a community where people can say, ‘I don’t know it all, but we’re committed to each other and committed to the journey with God, and that’s enough.’ ”