What is the Church when the Church Doesn't Meet
Scrolling through the news feed on my phone, which seems to be about the only thing I do these days, I saw a headline that caught my eye: “Coronavirus Will Change the World Permanently. Here’s How.” In the Politico article, 34 “big thinkers” give their opinion about what life will be like once this whole coronavirus ordeal settles down. How these 34 people managed to get their opinions heard, and why we should care what they think, is a bit of an unknown. Nevertheless, it’s an interesting read.
But one of the headers caught my eye. “Religious worship will look different.” It’s the opinion of Amy Sullivan, director of strategy of Vote Common Good, which is, in brief, an organization that seeks to sway the Christian vote against Trump in this year’s election. I’ll include the entirety of her thoughts for the sake of completeness:
We are an Easter people, many Christians are fond of saying, emphasizing the triumph of hope and life over fear. But how do an Easter people observe their holiest day if they cannot rejoice together on Easter morning? How do Jews celebrate their deliverance from bondage when Passover Seders must take place on Zoom, with in-laws left to wonder whether Cousin Joey forgot the Four Questions or the internet connection merely froze? Can Muslim families celebrate Ramadan if they cannot visit local mosques for Tarawih prayers or gather with loved ones to break the fast?
All faiths have dealt with the challenge of keeping faith alive under the adverse conditions of war or diaspora or persecution—but never all faiths at the same time. Religion in the time of quarantine will challenge conceptions of what it means to minister and to fellowship. But it will also expand the opportunities for those who have no local congregation to sample sermons from afar. Contemplative practices may gain popularity. And maybe—just maybe—the culture war that has branded those who preach about the common good with the epithet “Social Justice Warriors” may ease amid the very present reminder of our interconnected humanity.
I want to be clear up front that I do not intend to dispute Ms. Sullivan’s opinion. I use her words merely as a diving board to discuss something interesting that she hints at. She is absolutely right when she says this virus “will challenge conceptions of what it means to minister and to fellowship.” I look forward to how those conceptions are challenged, and I pray that the Church, especially in the United States, learns some valuable lessons from this time.
But it was in the first paragraph that my interest was initially piqued: “But how do an Easter people observe their holiest day if they cannot rejoice together on Easter morning?” It’s unclear what Sullivan sees as the answer to this question, though she does later hint that indeed we can celebrate Easter even if we are separate. In any event, the very fact that the conundrum is stated in such terms underscores the reality that society, indeed many followers of Jesus, too, conflates spiritual vitality with religious activity. There is this assumption that the culmination of our faith happens every Sunday morning when the Church gathers, that the Church is only if the Church gathers.
A couple of years ago, I was training to become a foster parent. During that training, we were told that legally, we could not obligate foster children to attend religious services. There is no call for foster parents to abandon their own faiths. No requirement to never speak of religious things. They simply are not able to demand that foster children attend official religious events.
Our society is of the opinion that our faith is only, or at least primarily, expressed in our weekly gatherings. But I fear that society believes this because we ourselves, the very Bride of Jesus Christ, believe it too.
As concerns of the spread of COVID-19 have grown and as state governments have banned large gatherings of people, churches have scrambled to minimize the disruption to our normal rhythms of worship and fellowship, setting up live streaming feeds in lieu of the Sunday gathering and Zoom meetings in lieu of Community Group gatherings. And let us be grateful that technology has enabled us to still hear Christ preached through the words of our pastors. Let us rejoice that video web chats can help keep us connected to our church communities.
But what if this had happened ten, twenty years ago, when we did not have access to these technologies? Would the exercising of our faith have to take a pause until the storm passed? Would we stop being the Church? Would the world be right to look at us and say that because we cannot gather, our faith cannot live? Can we not be “Easter people” (to be honest, I’d never heard that term before I read the article, but I’ll work with it) unless Easter morning finds populated pews?
Even with the blessing of modern technology, are we tempted to think that by not “going to church,” the power of the Church is diminished or our faith is necessarily weakened? May it not be so! The Church is not a building. The Church is not a gathering. The Church is not the pastor. The Church is not the sermon. The Church is not an event. Far from it!
The Church is cosmic. The Church is eternal. The Church is the Body of Christ. The Church is the Bride of Christ. The Church is the fullness of Him who fills everything in every way. The Church does not cease to be the Church simply because we are restricted to our homes. If the Church cannot be overcome by the gates of Hell, what chance does quarantine have of extinguishing the Church’s light?
While we should by no means neglect meeting together (Hebrews 10:24-25), my point, my hope, my prayer is that, as Amy Sullivan stated, we would “challenge conceptions of what it means to minister and to fellowship.” And as our own conceptions are refined, I hope that we would demonstrate to the watching world that Christ is alive and that his Bride is not defined by the walls in which she does or, as is the current case, does not meet.
Indeed, Jesus Himself challenged the conceptions of true worship when He walked the earth. When speaking with the woman at the well (John 4), Jesus, true to form, saw through the false dichotomy she presented: Was it right to worship at the Jewish temple or on the mountain in Samaria upon which they stood? “Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father....But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.’” So the question is not a matter of where we worship but whom and how we worship.
When I was told that I could not force a foster child to attend religious gatherings, I chuckled to myself a little bit because it reflected the misconception that my faith is relegated to Sunday worship alone. My prayer was and is that Jesus would so overflow out of my life that seeds of the gospel would be sown into the hearts of everyone I meet, regardless of their Sunday attendance. My prayer was and is that I would have Christ’s flock surrounding me to such an extent that any child under my care would see the Church, and through the Church see Christ, every day, Sunday gathering or no.
Therefore, as we remain in our homes, separated from our brothers and sisters, may we never forget that the Church is so much more than where we gather on Sundays. May we collectively, daily, and unwaveringly draw near to Jesus, whether alone in our bedrooms or together with family or roommates. May we devote ourselves to loving the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, and mind, and to loving our neighbors as ourselves, whether we meet on Sundays or not. Though scattered, may the light of Christ shine through the Church even more brightly and more broadly, and so may we shock the world that would reduce the Church to nothing more than the sum of its parts. And as Easter arrives, may we show the world that if death could not stop our Savior, then quarantine cannot stop His Bride. He is risen. And so are we.
- Luke Westbrook, member of City on a Hill Brighton