Being in Communion, part #1
In the past couple of weeks, I have been privileged to
assist at the services for my faith community.
This act is not new to me. What is new is that these services are
exclusively online. There are a few
ministers present to an empty worship space.
We try to make it a meaningful experience and we try to reach out to the
video audience in a personal way. It is
good that we do it and it is important.
However, I sit in the church to prepare myself for the
recording and it just feels so empty and impersonal. I have the same feeling when we are
done. I miss seeing the faces of those
who would ordinarily be in the pews. I
miss the noise generated by families and neighbors and friends. I miss the loving touch or warm embrace. For me, and I think for so many, this is the
greatest penance of this Lenten Season. I
have heard from many of you that it is hard to be away from the community. I think my experience is just as hard, though
in a different and unexpected way.
I get concerned because though we have rallied and gotten up
to speed (more or less) for a more digital based ministry at my church (and
with each passing week, we do it better), I fear this might become a new normal
for some. I get concerned that if “church”
becomes as easy as turning on my computer or smart TV, will we settle for that
once our towns, counties and country are “open” again? Will some decide that this is a good way to
do church and become even more distant from the flesh and blood experience of
being Church?
For now, when we gather through ZOOM or Facebook Live or
some other medium, this is how we are in communion with one another. It is the best we can do to keep everyone
safe and healthy. I am grateful for the
technology that allows us to keep the threads of communion stretched taut from
one person to another. I really feel I
am in communion with others in the community when I see and hear them on a ZOOM
coffee hour or prayer experience. I know
people are tuning in when I read the comments and prayer requests scrolling
by. And I sense a real connection when I
reach out to our seniors on the phone and hear a bit about how they are
experiencing all of this pandemic “stuff.”
And yet I also long for the day when we can be together
again, sharing at the table of Word and Sacrament. I think I will weep with joy when that day
comes. That will be my second Easter
this year, whenever it arrives. Please
join me in waiting and longing. Please
be ready to return to the flesh and blood community that is yours – because that
day will come. And in the meantime, let
us pray for one another, for all those first responders, medical personnel,
grocery store workers, postal carriers, for those separated from loved ones in
times of illness and grief and those suffering economically because of this
virus. Let us be physically distant from
one another, but present in whatever creative ways we can. Let us be in communion.
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