The demand for in-person only gathering is theologically-shallow. It is also shallow in practice and tradition.
Closing the church building for worship was not the hardest decision we’ve had to make. Compared with all of the drama that has come from the pandemic, it was relatively easy.
To protect people physically just made sense. But what made it easy is that we aren’t so restrained theologically.
From the beginning, we understood that while our bodies may be separated by distance, we could still gather. Because physical presence is not essential to commune with others.
While this might seem counterintuitive to some, this is quite literally the existing theology of the church. It governs our sense of the parish, the congregation, and even the Holy Eucharist itself.
- The parish is the geographical bounds the church serves. We serve a community, whether they are physically in our midst or not.
- The congregation is the gathered members of the church. When families go out of town, they don’t stop being present with us. They continue to commune with us in prayer, including in our prayer for them.
- And when we gather for Holy Eucharist, we are buffeted by those who aren’t physically present, while consecrating elements that will be used to make the whole congregation present together when we visit those outside of the room.
The fundamental character of our theology denotes gathering, not physicality, as the defining character of presence. It is the same way we can be present to someone over the phone when they need a lifeline. The point is that we are present.
And we still have bodies which are present in a space. But we don’t need share the same space to be present with each other.
A Together Tradition
My tradition of church is famously tied to its Prayer Book. A devotion I’ve often found frustrating and disappointingly rigid. But in this moment, I’m deeply thankful for it.
The Book of Common Prayer is our original tool for gathering digitally.
Crack it open for Morning Prayer and you are joining a chorus of prayer with thousands who are at that very moment praying the same prayer forms. With the Prayer Book, you are never alone.
The point of a book of common prayer is not to have perfect or merely predictable prayers for individual satisfaction. The point is to have common prayer to connect the common person into the commons. A place in which we have a common language so that we understand each other.
In the pandemic, we’ve made an idol of physicality.
We have broken from our theological tradition of presence transcending space, to obsess about humans necessarily sharing space. We are making in-person gathering essential and necessary without acknowledging what this does to our theology.
Many are excising the transcendent elements of our tradition in favor of a materialist experience. And we’re not even aware of just how extreme this is.
Many from across the political spectrum are putting their theological chips into a kind of fundamentalism of the physical experience; resting their vision of an incarnational theology entirely on a narrow and materialist sense of being together. And doing so without also acknowledging the materialist reality of distance.
It is hardly different than saying Jesus is only present in communion because that’s the only time he shows up physically. While nobody would actually make this argument, it is the argument many are making about our bodies.
It is necessary to realize how extreme this position is to appreciate how different it is from tradition.
While it is true that most churches have little experience with closing buildings during pandemics and only recent experience with worshipping online, we shouldn’t assume this means tradition dictates in-person only is the way forward.
This particular vision of gathering weds a few particular theological ideas about our physical proximity to pre-pandemic norms to give them theological heft. This creates a kind of physical fundamentalism, predicated on a narrow vision of creation and its relationship to God.
Aaron J. Smith puts it succinctly:
“People have stopped using embodied as ‘taking shape’ and started using it as ‘physical proximity’ which misses the point entirely.”
– Aaron J Smith, @CulturalSavage
Becoming, not Being
This new way of understanding embodiment, as Smith says, misses the point. It also reminds me of our most common of mistakes. We think the point of faith is to be a good person rather than become more Christlike.
We treat the work of faith, our work, like a 6th-grader with a worksheet. I’ve done all my homework, Mom! Here we are! We’ve made it!
And yet, throughout scripture, we’re given the opposite. We are never really finished. We aren’t. But we are becoming.
We are striving, working, loving, hoping, giving, sharing, empowering, healing, feeding, and living this life now and becoming new. It is active and ongoing.
Making it work
And because we live our lives, I am sympathetic to the ways that is difficult. Like most people, I do want “normal.”
I also don’t begrudge a person wanting to “get on with life.” Or looking at the moment and thinking we should be in the endemic stage already. At this point (early February, 2022), I think that’s early. But the point is that this is the stuff that is up for negotiation. How we make living work is part of our work.
What physical fundamentalism offers, however, is not simply a preference. It is being packaged in think pieces as if it were a good faith negotiation. As if it comes from a place that honors diverse preferences.
- They offer an extreme position that is hostile to negotiation.
- It is ableist, dismissive, and historically inaccurate.
- And it is a theological dead end.
And perhaps its most troubling aspect is its practical ramifications. This tired mantra is making it really hard for people who struggle to feel the presence of loved ones to appreciate the presence they do have.
A presence that is real. It is there. And it is becoming embodied in technologies both old and new. Prayer at a dining room table and on Twitter.
When we are being challenged to see Christ in our midst, we have neighbors who would have us become blind.
Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!’
-Luke 11:11-13
For further reading and context
This is a response to a NY Times opinion piece from an ACNA priest who argues that we should shut down digital church. While I personally take issue with the circumstances behind the piece, this is also not a novel argument.
Notable responses to the piece include:
- The piece was built on implicit ablism.
- The media has a general confusion about the Episcopal world and its relationship to ACNA.
- The piece’s primary argument is shallow in both theological and practical terms.
- And it reminds us that the debate about communion in the digital space is still a live one.
The historian, Diana Butler Bass wrote a generous piece about how Zoom more embodied our faith than we had known before. And Melissa Florer-Bixler’s response for Sojourners is exquisitely beautiful and compassionate.