The New York Times
The virus drove churchgoers away. Will Easter bring them back?
NEW YORK – Reverend Henry Torres told his parishioners, who gathered on Palm Sunday in socially distant rows of half-empty benches, that God did not abandon them. The virus killed dozens of churchgoers, the Roman Catholic Church of San Sebastian, Queens, and the pandemic forced it to close its doors for months last year. But the parishioners were there now, he said, which was a sign of hope. “Even in the midst of difficulties, God is at work,” said Torres. “Even when people are suffering, even though it seems that God is 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 cashless churches that minister to them – are eager to believe in this Easter, as the spring celebration of hope and renewal on Sunday coincides with rising vaccination rates and the promise of a return to something similar to normal life. Religious services during Holy Week holidays, which begin on Palm Sunday and end on Easter, are among the busiest of the year, and this year they offer churches the chance to start rebuilding their flocks and regaining their financial health. But the question of whether people will return is crucial. Across the city, many churches have yet to reopen, despite state rules that would allow this to happen. Reverend Calvin O. Butts III, pastor of the Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem, a nationally prominent black church, said concerns about the coronavirus, and its disproportionate impact on the black community, would prevent his church from reopening until at least autumn. Nicholas Richardson, a spokesman for the New York Episcopal Diocese, said that many of his churches have also not reopened. When the diocese introduced a program last fall to allow its 190 parishes to pay a reduced tithing to the diocese, about half of them signed up. “It varies from church to church,” he said. “Promises have not necessarily declined dramatically, but donations made to the collection plate have declined irremediably.” Reverend Patrick J. West, pastor of St. Sebastian, said that he and other priests are concerned about the return of parishioners when they meet for meals. Parishioners still fear the virus, which has killed tens of thousands of New Yorkers, and many have become accustomed to attending mass online from the comfort of home, he said. “The word I use is ‘repatriate’,” he said. “How are we going to repatriate people back to the church? I don’t think it’s a question of people’s faith, it’s a question of health and safety. They need to be convinced that it is safe to worship in a congregation again, and I think that is absolutely correct. ”The difficulties of the pandemic were deeply felt in St. Sebastian, a busy parish that offers mass in English, Spanish and Tagalog in an elevated, windowless space that was once a Loews cinema. It is at a busy intersection in the shade of elevated subway tracks in Woodside, a part of the working class, but one that is rapidly renewing itself, where about 10% of residents have been infected with the coronavirus, according to city data. “Many people died,” said Micky Torres, a longtime Filipino immigrant and parishioner. A close friend of his in the parish died of COVID-19 in the first weeks of the pandemic, he said. It was the first of several of Zoom’s funerals. “It was very sad and very strange.” At least 50 active parishioners in St. Sebastian died of COVID-19, many in the early days of the pandemic, when a funeral was impossible because the church was closed, West said. He started his mission in the parish, which was founded in 1894 and moved to the old theater in 1954, shortly after the reopening of churches in late June. The mortality rate in Woodside is higher than in the city as a whole, according to city data. “When I got here, it was memorial mass after memorial mass after memorial mass,” he said. “We had seven a week, in addition to funeral masses for people who were dying at the same time. We are still doing memorial services a year later. ”São Sebastião would normally receive up to 5,000 faithful before the pandemic in various masses on Saturdays and Sundays, said West. But the rules of the pandemic limit its capacity to 50% and require social distance. A good weekend would now attract about 1,200 people, less than a quarter of the pre-pandemic crowd, the pastor said. He said he expects Easter attendance to be robust, but there is no way of knowing for sure. The parish has also adjusted in other ways. Masks and social distance are necessary; hand sanitizer is readily available. Parishioners also replaced the peace sign, traditionally a handshake, with a nod or a nod. The churches were closed for 15 weeks during the first months of the pandemic last year, which included Holy Week. Even after reopening at 25% capacity, many parishioners remained absent. This deprived parishes of both people whose physical presence wants the community to exist and donations they make every week to help pay the bills. The resulting turmoil has wreaked havoc on the finances of churches across the New York area and across the country, including icons such as St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Manhattan and more humble houses of worship like San Sebastian. Everyone relies heavily on weekly donations to pay their expenses, which include utilities, employee salaries and an 8% tax paid to the local diocese. “We are suffering,” said West, who estimated that the parish’s income had dropped 35% during the pandemic. The deficit forced him to keep the parish center closed, to dismiss parish officials and even to ask the Brooklyn diocese to transfer a priest from San Sebastian. “We have a large immigrant population and people are not used to using electronic payments or even writing checks,” said West. “If they are not physically here to donate money, then we have not physically received the donation.” Many Christians attend personal services only at Christmas and Easter. Donations made on these two holidays represent 10% of the annual revenue of most Catholic parishes, said Matthew Manion, director of the Church Management Center at Villanova University. He researched the church’s finances during the pandemic and found sharp declines in revenue in parishes of all sizes. Based on last year’s figures, he projects a 20% to 25% decline in fiscal year 2021, which could be exacerbated if people continue to attend mass online instead of in person. “The big questions are: will Catholics who practice their faith often return? What about Catholics who practice their faith less often, are they gone forever? ”Said Manion. “Both responses can have major impacts, both spiritually and financially.” He added: “Easter will be an interesting experience. Spring will tell us a lot about what fiscal year 2022 and beyond will look like. ”The weather was cautious, but hopeful in São Sebastião on Palm Sunday, where street vendors were selling braided palm leaves outside in the rain and a group of parishioners stood in the church lobby to hear the mass, despite the noise and noise of the elevated subway passing outside. Less than half of the seats were occupied in the morning English mass, but a Spanish service at the end of the day was so well attended that the faithful were sent to the parish school auditorium so that they could watch the live broadcast, obeying the rules of social distance . Manuel Gil, a Peruvian immigrant who has been worshiping in São Sebastião for 25 years, said he thinks the consequences of the pandemic may actually bring more people to the church, not less. “The important thing is that people have faith,” he said. “I think that more people will come after the pandemic, because people whose families or friends have passed away will be looking for God. People’s lives have changed. ”Speaking from the pulpit, Henry Torres urged parishioners to see the empty benches around them not only as a manifestation of the rules of the pandemic era, but as vacant places that could have been taken by those who died last year. But they shouldn’t be sad, he told the flock. Instead, they should celebrate the fact that they survived. “You and I were privileged and we had an opportunity,” he said. “In an hour it is not promised. Tomorrow is not promised. Everything we have is here and now. We are going to work here and now in our intimacy with God ”. This article was originally published in The New York Times. © 2021 The New York Times Company