St. Benedict Catholic Church
Rows of cordoned-off pews, scattered parishioners and a bevy of hand-sanitizing stations have become a familiar sight for the Rev. John David Ramsey, pastor at Saint Benedict Catholic Church, since the Museum District church reopened in June.
“The odd thing is, we’ve been doing this for so long that now it seems normal,” he says of the changes. “All the blue tape [that blocks off pews], I don’t even notice it anymore.”
At places of worship across the Richmond area, restrictions on indoor gatherings imposed by Gov. Ralph Northam to guard against COVID-19 pushed clergy into uncharted waters last spring, forcing faith leaders to reimagine entrenched religious traditions while seeking new ways to connect with their communities. In the beginning, most focused on adapting their services for streaming online via Zoom or YouTube.
“We made a decision very early in the pandemic ... to say that we were going to find ways for our community to gather as normal, utilizing whatever tools that we have to be able to do that, even if it means overturning millennia of precedent,” Rabbi Michael Knopf of Temple Beth-El says.
Some places of worship like Saint Benedict opted to reopen with limited capacity after the state loosened public health restrictions on religious services last spring, though the church has also continued to livestream its services for parishioners who feel safer at home. Ramsey says attendance at Saint Benedict currently reaches around 450 people across three weekend masses, or about two-thirds of the church’s full capacity — a far cry from what he’d expect to see during the weeks leading up to Easter Sunday in normal times.
As of the governor’s most recent order on March 23, places of worship are able to reopen as long as facilities are properly sanitized and attendees can maintain at least 6 feet of distance.
While local religious leaders are optimistic about inching closer to normalcy in the months ahead, Knopf and his peers have mixed feelings about the use of digital platforms over the past year: On the one hand, livestreaming made attending religious services more accessible than ever, with most saying the numbers of viewers initially outpaced typical prepandemic attendance. On the other hand, the reliance on virtual interaction has made it more difficult for their congregations to forge meaningful connections.
“I’m tired of it, I don’t mind telling you,” says the Rev. Jim Somerville, pastor at First Baptist Church. “I’m tired of trying to do church this way. I’m ready for things to resume in some way, even though I don’t think things will ever feel normal again in the way they did before, but I also think that in some ways we’re reaching people that we’ve never reached before.”
Temple Beth-El has only offered virtual services since the pandemic began, relying on guidelines developed by internal working groups that dictate that the synagogue can reopen with limited in-person attendance and a virtual option once local COVID-19 positivity rates stay at 5% or lower for at least two weeks. While First Baptist has adhered to similar metrics, its leadership opted to reopen the church’s sanctuary for limited in-person Sunday services on March 7. Its Easter services will be capped at 150 people, and parishioners are required to have registered one week in advance and have their temperatures taken before entering the church.
“It’s so good to see some faces in the sanctuary and some people in the pews, and to be preaching to actual human beings rather than the cold, glassy eye of the camera,” Somerville says in response to follow-up questions this past week.
The Rev. John David Ramsey of St. Benedict Catholic Church, which has been holding in-person services at limited capacity since last spring
Jamie Lynn Haskins, chaplain for spiritual life at the University of Richmond, hopes places of worship continue to broadcast their services once the pandemic ends for members who may otherwise be unable to attend in person.
“It’s this odd paradox that, at the same time the pandemic is making it harder for us to be a community in some ways, it’s inviting us into deeper community in others,” she says. “My desire is to make community as accessible as possible ... and to make communities as inclusive as possible, and so my hope is that when we return to the possibility of gathering in person, many communities of faith will maintain dual options.”
While services have been sidelined, places of worship also have stepped up their supports for members affected by the pandemic, offering everything from regular counseling for those dealing with feelings of stress or isolation to financial support for members.
The Rev. F. Todd Gray at Fifth Street Baptist Church also has turned his attention toward COVID-19 vaccination efforts, registering eligible members to attend vaccination events at the Richmond Raceway Complex and working with a network of around 60 churches across the greater Richmond area and with health experts at VCU and the Virginia Department of Health.
According to data from the Virginia Department of Health, Black Richmond residents accounted for 47.7% of the city’s total COVID-19 cases as of March 29, while making up just 28.9% of Richmond’s vaccine recipients. Gray says the pandemic has reaffirmed the influence Black churches have in their communities.
“We consider ourselves to be central to our community, and one of the most reliable voices to our community,” he says. “We were very aware of the whole issue of credibility and folks who might not be trusting the vaccination process, and we’ve been trying to educate as much as we can.”
While services and most programming can occur virtually, large-scale events like weddings and funerals have either been postponed or held off site, and in the case of major religious holidays, clergy say they’ve had to improvise. Ammar Amonette, an imam at the Islamic Center of Virginia in Chesterfield County, says the mosque had to fundamentally change the way it served members last April during Ramadan, shortly after the pandemic began, and he expects those changes to persist this year.
The Islamic Center would typically welcome its members to break their daily fasts together at the mosque, but instead meals were handed out through an improvised drive-thru service for some 150 families per night last year. During Ramadan this year, he expects to offer the drive-thru service again, with limited seating in the mosque.
“We can adapt to different situations, so it’s an educational experience, and you learn to appreciate family and friends and community that in a way, sometimes, we take for granted,” Amonette says. “And that’s never a bad lesson to learn.”
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