Remember the good old days before we were familiar with the words “Coronavirus” and “social distancing”? Seems like forever ago, doesn’t it? There is barely anything left in our lives that hasn’t been affected by this pandemic. People are working from home, resulting in separation from their coworkers. Students are being homeschooled, separating them from their friends and teachers. Patients in hospitals and residents in nursing homes are unable to have visitors, separating them from the support they desire and need. Friends and neighbors are no longer able to gather in each other’s homes, and families are unable to gather in large groups for holiday get togethers – all resulting in separation and sometimes loneliness like some of us have never known.
Even churches aren’t immune from the changes. Depending on your denomination your weekly service might not be at all what you’ve been used to or what is familiar to you. I recently returned to in-person services after not doing so during quarantine. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I sure was missing being a part of a congregation. I had sung at some outdoor weddings and funerals, but it wasn’t the same as attending mass on Sunday.
My first Sunday back I put on my face mask and walked through the front doors of the church. I had to walk around a bit before I found an open seat that wasn’t marked off for social distancing. I finally found a seat and settled in before the opening hymn. I didn’t like having to wear a mask while I sang, I didn’t like not having a missalette so I could follow along with the readings, and I didn’t like how separated I felt from everyone else in the congregation. There was an undertone of tension….not wanting to get too close to anyone else.
I was starting to feel quite discouraged until the end of the Eucharistic Prayer. Once the congregation began to recite the “Our Father,” a feeling of familiarity began to settle into my heart. Even our face masks couldn’t drown the noise of everyone reciting those words with each other. Then, Father invited us to show a sign of a peace to each other. Even though we would not be shaking hands, everyone began waving to each other and holding up that “V-Shaped” peace sign across the pews and aisle. Even though we couldn’t see the smiles on our faces, you sure could see the smile in people’s eyes.
Communion was not given until after the final blessing and we would be departing from church after that. I walked up towards Father to receive Communion, and as I headed back to my pew I was shocked by my reaction. As I sat quietly for a moment of gratitude and reflection, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I was overwhelmed by the flood of emotions I felt. You don’t realize how much comfort and strength you receive from something until you lose it and get it back.
This past Sunday was the First Sunday of Advent, which is also the first Sunday of the new church year. I remember hearing a homily once in which the priest referred to this day as the “New Year’s Day” of the church year, and he challenged the parishioners to make New Year’s resolutions for your spiritual life as you would for yourself on January 1st. I thought about that as I sat in church this week, and the resolution I made for myself this church year is to have spiritual time for myself every week. What I am challenging myself with is attending mass every Sunday. If that isn’t possible for some reason, I can attend services for another denomination or spend at least 60 minutes in prayer and reflection. If this pandemic is going to continue to separate us physically, I hope to still feel part of my church community this way.
I wasn’t sure whether or not I wanted to share this challenge and journey, but I figured if sharing this encourages one person to bring some peace and/or prayer into their life – it can’t be a bad thing.
See you all back here next Sunday.
The Forty Years 