What gives you hope?
I remember times during my twenties when I had severe anxiety. The doctor prescribed anti-anxiety medicine for me to take, as needed, and the problem seemed to go away. But there was always a question in the back of my mind, “What if this persists or comes back?” So, after a few months of taking the medicine, I stopped. I wanted to try to get to a new normal without the aid of modern medicine. I was hopeful that it ‘wouldn’t always be like this’ and that one day I’d see myself medicine-free. But just in case, I carried that pill bottle around with me, everywhere I went. It was sort of a ‘break glass in case of emergency’ but also a, “I have it with me…I know it’s there…and that’s enough.”
It worked for years. Until recently, my anxiety has been mitigated through activity and the knowledge that I will be ‘okay’. Not everyone has the same level of this, so I don’t blanket statement my own experiences with theirs, nor do I fault anyone who relies upon medication to sustain a—to them—normal lifestyle. However, for me, having that security of just knowing the pills were available, even if I didn’t take them…helped. Immensely.
The Church has been closed for in person worship since March 9th. The doors have seen a fraction of the people walk through them that they once did, and the halls are empty just waiting to envelop old friends into a walking embrace. As I think about my own trials with anxiety, and how just ‘knowing the bottle is available even if I don’t use it’, I think about what impact that might make on our congregation.
Covid isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. It’s the reality within which we live. I stand by my decision to keep the Church doors closed to this point, as I believe that we are protecting people and providing one less arena wherein Covid’s insidious nature can be proliferated. However…I also believe that there’s a sense of longing deep within many of us to see these doors opened, again.
Even if most choose not to use them.
For many, knowing that the Church is available to them—should they choose to come or not—will be a boon to their souls. I know this, because I’ve listened to you. As such, I am standing beside my decision to open up for in person worship on August 9th. There are some who will come, many will not. Both of those scenarios are perfectly acceptable. I suspect that attendance will be in the lower to middle twenties for the first few weeks. I’m prepared for that. But I also suspect that the simple fact of knowing the church is there, and open, will do much for those sitting at home thinking about her.
In the coming weeks, I’ll be sending out a concise overview of what worship will look like when we gather in person. The most important thing I want you to know is this: Whether you feel safe to return or decide to stay home, this Church will be available to you. We will continue the call list; we will continue the online worship videos; and on Sunday, we will live-stream the service. If you watch the live-stream and then watch the prerecorded video, chances are that the sermon will be different…especially if I’m the one preaching. But the important thing is that we begin the journey back into our sacred space, opening it up and giving people the opportunity to worship in person, while also giving people peace of mind at home. Because, just like I knew the bottle was there if I needed it, I believe it will help you to know that the Church is open even if you choose not to visit it in person.
Grace to all of us in this time; we will get to a new normal. I don’t know when, and I don’t know what it looks like, but I know it will come. As with all things, this, too, shall pass and we shall see the dawn of a new day.
Faithfully,
Fr. Sean+