The New York Times
The virus drove churchgoers away. Will Easter bring them back?
NEW YORK – Rev. Henry Torres told his congregation members, who were meeting in social rows on half-empty church pews on Palm Sunday, that God had not left them. The virus killed dozens of ordinary people in the church, the St. Sebastian Roman Catholic Church in Queens, and the pandemic forced it to close its doors last year. But the congregation members were there now, he said, which was a sign of hope. “Even through trouble, God is at work,” Torres said. “Even if people suffer, even if God seems to be silent, it does not mean that God is absent.” Subscribe to The Morning Newsletter of the New York Times. This is a message that many Christians – and the cash-strapped churches they serve – would like to believe this Easter, as the spring celebration of hope and renewal on Sunday coincides with the rising rise. vaccination rates and the promise to return to something that looks like normal life. Religious services during the Holy Week holiday, which begins on Palm Sunday and ends at Easter, is one of the most visited of the year, and this year offers their churches the chance to rebuild their flocks and regain their financial health. But the question of whether people will return is crucial. Throughout the city, many churches have still not reopened, despite state rules enabling them to do so. Rev. Calvin O. Butts III, pastor at the Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem, a nationally prominent black church, said concerns about the coronavirus and its exorbitant impact on the Black community would keep his church from attending until at least the fall. reopen. Nicholas Richardson, a spokesman for the Episcopal Diocese of New York, said many of its churches have not been reopened either. When the diocese launched a program last fall to enable its 190 congregations to pay a diminished tithe to the diocese, about half of them applied. “It differs from church to church,” he said. “The promises are not necessarily dramatically down, but the donations given to the collection board are hopelessly down.” Rev. Patrick J. West, the pastor in St. Sebastian, said he and other priests are concerned about the return of congregation members when they gather for meals. Congregation members still fear the virus, which has killed tens of thousands of New Yorkers, and many have become accustomed to watching the masses online from the comfort of their homes, he said. “The word I use is ‘repatriate,'” he said. “How are we going to bring people back to church? I do not think it’s a matter of people’s faith, it’s a matter of health and safety. They need to be convinced that it is safe to worship in a congregation again, and I think that’s perfectly fine. ” Spanish and Tagalog present in a rising, windowless space that was once a Loews movie theater, perched on a busy intersection in the shadow of elevated railroad tracks in Woodside, a working-class but rapidly softening part of Queens, where about 10 % of residents are infected with the coronavirus, according to city data. “Many people are dead,” said Micky Torres, a Filipino immigrant and longtime member of the congregation. A good friend of his from the congregation died of COVID-19 in the first weeks of the pandemic, he said, it was his first of the Zoom burials giggles. “It was very sad and very strange.” At least 50 active congregation members in St. Sebastian died of COVID-19, much in the early days of the pandemic when the funeral was impossible because the church was closed, West said. He began his assignment in the congregation, which was founded in 1894 and moved into the former theater in 1954, shortly after churches were re-admitted at the end of June. According to city data, the death rate in Woodside is higher than in the city as a whole. “When I got here, it was a memorial service after a memorial service after a memorial service,” he said. ‘We held seven a week, as well as funeral knives for people who died at the same time. We do memorial knives another year later. “Saint Sebastian would normally welcome as many as 5,000 worshipers on Saturdays and Sundays before the pandemic over various misses,” West said. But pandemic rules limit its capacity to 50% and require social removal. A good weekend will draw about 1,200 people, less than a quarter of the crowd that was before the pandemic, the pastor said. He said he hopes the attendance at Easter will be strong, but there is no way to know. The congregation has also adapted in other ways. Masks and social distance are needed; hand sanitizer is readily available. Congregation members also replaced the sign of peace, traditionally a handshake, with a nod or a wave. Churches were closed for 15 weeks during the first months of the pandemic, which includes Holy Week. Even after reopening with a capacity of 25%, many congregation members stayed away. It has deprived the congregations of both the people whose physical presence will establish the community, and the donations they make each week to pay the bills. The ensuing unrest has devastated the finances of churches across the New York region and the country, including icons such as St. St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Manhattan and more humble houses of worship such as St. Patrick’s. Sebastian. Everyone is heavily dependent on weekly donations to pay their expenses, which pay utilities, staff salaries and an 8% tax to the local diocese. “We’re hurt,” West said. According to the pandemic, the congregation’s income decreased by 35%. The shortage forced him to close the congregation center, to lay off staff in the parish office, and even to ask the diocese of Brooklyn to appoint one priest from St. Sebastian to move down. “We have a large number of immigrants and people are not used to using electronic payments or even writing checks,” West said. “If they are not physically here to donate cash, we will not receive the donation physically.” Many Christians only attend Christmas and Easter services. Donations made on these two holidays make up 10% of the annual collection for most Catholic congregations, said Matthew Manion, director of the Center for Church Management at Villanova University. He researched church finances during the pandemic and found that income payouts are strong in all sizes. Based on figures from last year, he plans a 20% to 25% decrease in fiscal year 2021, which could be exacerbated if people keep the masses online instead of in person. ‘The big questions are: Will Catholics who practice their faith return regularly? And do Catholics who practice their faith less often benefit? ‘says Manion. “Both of these answers can have a huge impact mentally and financially.” He added: “Easter will be an interesting experiment. Spring will tell us a lot about what the financial year 2022 and beyond will look like. The mood was cautious, but hopeful in St. Sebastian on Palm Sunday, where street vendors in the rain sold woven palm leaves outside and a group of congregation members stood in the foyer of the church to listen to the mist, despite the audible rush and rumble of the elevated subway outside. Less than half of the seats were filled during the morning’s English mist, but a Spanish service later in the day was so well attended that worshipers were sent to the congregation school auditorium so they could watch it in live streams while still obeyed the rules for social distance. Manuel Gil, a Peruvian immigrant who has lived in St. Louis for 25 years. Sebastian Worship said he thinks the aftermath of the pandemic could actually bring more people to church, not less. “The most important thing is that people have faith,” he said. ‘I think more people will come to the pandemic because people whose families or friends have died will seek God. People’s lives have changed. From the pulpit, Henry Torres addresses congregation members to see the empty pews around them as not just a manifestation of rules from the pandemic, but as vacant seats possibly filled by those who have died in the past year. But they should not remain in grief, he told the flock. Instead, they should celebrate the fact that they survived. “You and I had a chance,” he said. An hour from now is not promised. Tomorrow is not promised. All we have is here and now. Let us now and here work on our intimacy with God. This article originally appeared in The New York Times. © 2021 The New York Times Company