Building crushed, but not our faith
It is hard to believe we’ve reached the first anniversary of a million pounds of scaffolding falling on a parish building at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church.
But despite the horrendous damage done to the building, we have come a long way. Most notably we understand our church is not our building; our church is the people who compose our community, the people who choose to worship together.
That’s not to say St. Mark’s is not a magnificent historically significant landmark — because it is. But I am so proud to say we rallied in amazing ways in those early days following the damage to the building. Together, we creatively looked for new ways to be the church. And we have done that far beyond anything we could have hoped for.
Yet, on that bleak September night, little could we have imagined the challenges that awaited us in 2020, with the pandemic just over the horizon.
I was reminded anew the other day that we have a foundation that has allowed us to hold fast to that which matters. The bonding that happened in those early days has sustained us and prepared us for the challenges we are experiencing.
It is easy and completely understandable to be anxious about earthly things.
Yet, the more we grasp after an elusive sense of control and certainty, the less likely we are to hold fast to those things that endure.
It has been painful and sacrificial to be separate and hold services in a peopleless sanctuary, with parishioners linked by video and chat functions. With improving infection numbers in the city, we soon could regather in modest ways.
But the lessons we are learning are important ones: We know in new ways that the church is us; it’s not bricks and mortar.
We have embraced new ways to continue beloved traditions, like our Christmas pageant that we reconfigured to work on our lawn instead of in our damaged parish house. New technologies offer a magnificent virtual choir performance and house blessing by Zoom in place of Homecoming Sunday at the church. Our daily prayer services continue, as do our Sunday worship services, with clergy remotely greeting parishioners and visitors.
We know that through our service and connection to one another, we are resilient — and that when we rely on God and one another, there is enough. To live abundantly is a spiritual practice. On the days I fall into a scarcity mentality, I’m grateful for those of you who remind me this is not God’s vision for us. As I said in my sermon the Sunday after the scaffolding accident: We have what we need. We still do.
We see progress every day as the enormous damage done to our building is repaired. It’s amazing how much damage a million pounds of scaffolding can do to a structure.
But that’s an important lesson we have all learned: The damage was done to the building, not to our church. We are St. Mark’s Episcopal Church wherever we gather. We have embraced resilience as we have adapted to the new normal. We still pray together, celebrate life together, and together we mourn those who have passed on. We have also learned to social distance and wear masks.
What happened to our building was certainly sad. It’s sad when a million pounds of scaffolding falls on anything, anywhere in our world. But the damage reinforced what we intellectually knew all along: It was just a building. When it is repaired, as it will be, it will be a renewed building under whose roof our church would gather.
I wouldn’t wish what happened to us on anyone, but there is a bright side: We were ready for COVID-19 because we knew how tough, resilient and determined we already were.