Convenience of virtual worship creates new inperson challenges
It was a year ago Saturday that Fr. Joe Esper was told something that would have been inconceivable prior to COVID-19.
“I was on the phone with our regional bishop — talking about another matter — when he received an email and read it aloud to me in some degree of shock,” said the priest at Immaculate Conception Church in Anchorville, remembering how the day unfolded on March 13, 2020 for clergy everywhere.
It said there would be no church on Sunday.
And while the order to suspend public Masses came from the Archdiocese of Detroit, by the end of the day religious leaders across the state, at churches, synagogues and mosques issued similar statements urging congregations to cancel gatherings in an effort to keep people safe and thwart the spread of the coronavirus.
“We didn’t expect anything like this,” said Esper, who was ordained as a priest 39 years ago and does not recall any similar orders. That is, in his lifetime. During the Spanish flu of 1918 that ultimately killed more than 50 million people worldwide before burning itself out there were similar restrictions and precautions ordered, including churchless Sundays.
Even for the Detroit Archbishop, 2020 was something unusual.
“The decision to temporarily suspend this practice was not and must never be taken lightly,” said Detroit Archbishop Allen Vigneron’s letter to parishioners. “As Mass is a commemoration of Christ’s great act of love for us, we take this unprecedented measure with eyes fixed on him and his greatest commandment to love one another, which in this difficult time means that we ensure the health and safety of our community by following the wise counsel of local, state, and federal government and health officials.”
And so for the first time in his life Esper found himself nailing a notice on the door urging people not to come to church.
Immaculate Conception Church also has a school and that had to be closed. But instead of sending parents a note asking them to keep their children home, Esper drew on his own childhood experience and shared a letter that was both informative and hopeful.
“My mother grew up in Johnstown, a city in southwest Pennsylvania located down in a river valley surrounded by steep hills. Johnstown has experienced three severe floods in its history in 1989 (in which much of the city was destroyed and hundreds of people were killed), in 1936 and in 1978. My mother was a grade school student in 1936 and by chance went back to visit relatives in Johnstown the day before the flood occurred in 1978, which caused everyone to tease her about being bad luck or a jinx.
“When I was growing up, my mom would tell us stories about the 1936 flood, which happened on a school day in March of that year. She attended her parish school, and the religious sisters there dismissed the students early, warning them to go straight home. My mom’s family lived up on a hill, so they were safe, but many of the buildings downtown, including my grandfather’s shop, the parish church, and the school, were flooded. After a few days the water receded or went away, but the buildings had water damage and were filled with mud, especially the school. My mom described how she and all the other students would go down to the school every day that spring and summer (except on Sunday) not for class but to help clean up the mud from the classroom floors, in hopes that the building would be clean and ready for school to resume in September (fortunately it was).”
Now in 2020 we have something similar happening.
Not a mud-filled school building but the need to overcome what’s called the coronavirus or COVID-19 virus, which as many of you may know is very contagious. Many people around the world have contracted or caught it, including thousands here in Michigan and that’s why, to slow down its spread, schools, sports arenas, offices, churches, and businesses have been closed,” he wrote, adding that their school would not be reopening until this fall (which it did).
“Unlike what was asked of my mother and her classmates 84 years ago, we do not need you to come in and help clean the school. What we do need you to do, however, is to continue working hard on your remote learning lessons. From everything I’ve heard you and your classmates are doing a fantastic job.”
Then he wrote to their parents and other parishioners, and kept on writing every Tuesday in order to keep them abreast of the pandemic and any spiritual opportunities, including the opening of the church for those who needed to worship in person.
“We chose to keep the doors unlocked during the day and evening so people could come and pray if needed,” Esper said.
All that was asked of them was to leave a blue card in the pew where they were sitting so volunteers knew what areas of the church needed to be sanitized afterwards.
Also open were most of the food pantries. Catholics and Lutherans, Baptists, Episcopal and other denominations throughout Macomb County partnered with local organizations like Forgotten Harvest in an effort to feed the hungry during the crisis. Throughout the early days of the pandemic and even now groups have hosted drive-by events for people suffering from food insecurity.
What happened in March was unprecedented but also an amazing turning point for clergy members who found other creative ways to stay connected with their parishioners.
Some started blogging. Many churches already had websites but those that didn’t, leaned on parishioners with information technology skills to create a site that not only featured church news but a platform for virtual worship services.
Pastors found a voice through podcasts and livestreaming broadcasts on television, Facebook, YouTube, iTunes and other online platforms. At Easter and Christmas, thousands of parishioners watched their pastor celebrate the Word of the Lord from the comfort of their home.
These spiritual options proved so successful — generating twice as many followers as expected — parishes may continue the services when the crisis is over.
“As they say, necessity is the mother of invention,” said Fr. Steve Pullis, director of evangelization and missionary discipleship for the Detroit Archdiocese. “When we couldn’t meet in person we found other ways to connect - and that was achieved through a lot of creativity.”
Picking up the phone sounds simple.
Especially at a time when people text and email but a lot of parishes just starting calling people to find out how they were doing.
“It was very simple but very effective,” Pullis said.
Other churches moved their pulpits outdoors, which not only served parishioners who gathered in small groups with their lawn chairs safely spaced six-feet apart but members of the community out for a walk or Sunday drive.
“When you’re hold up in a building people don’t see you but when you’re right on the lawn by the road people can’t miss you,” said Rev. Adam Grosch of Lake Shore Presbyterian Church in St. Clair Shores, which continued to gather outdoors until October’s wind forced them inside.
During the Christmas season, Midnight Mass at Immanuel Lutheran Church in Macomb Township was held around a bonfire. Those who wished to attend the Mass had to RSVP in advance and despite the chilly weather filled to capacity within a few days. The pastor said it was a great success.
When the faithful returned to church at the end of May the liturgical adjustments that had been put into place prior to the suspension of public masses remained such as the need for social distancing and face coverings. The beautiful vestibules that greet visitors also remain empty of holy water.
During Communion, churchgoers are instructed to follow one another — six feet apart — to receive the Communion wafer in an outstretched hand. There is no wine and no shaking of hands. Instead parishioners exchange peaceful greetings with two fingers, bows or sparkling smiles.
“I suspect this is to be the new normal,” Esper said. “That would be my guess. Because even if we decide to shake hands there will be many people who are now uncomfortable doing that. The same is true of the holy water.”
“As we move forward we’ll have to determine each one as they come. Is this something we can return to or is it something we have to suspend longer?” said Pullis.
Before COVID-19 attendance at Immaculate Conception Church could be as much as 420 with everyone squeezed in. Now with the capacity limits still in place there is only room for 120, and at times that is not filled.
“I’ve been keeping track of attendance since we reopened and it started out slow but it’s been building up,” Esper said. “Some people who have become too comfortable with not leaving home on Sunday and may never return. It’s sad to lose the active participation of some parishioners at church, but we had a summer festival and despite the overcast skies it was well attended.”
Pullis concurred.
“When we couldn’t meet for Mass we found other ways to connect and it was a good experience,” he said. “But you cannot receive Eucharist digitally.”
For the faithful there is something irreplaceable about gathering in person.
“It’s the whole idea of being with other people in a place where you are known and where you are loved,” Pullis said.