Last Sunday was the second week of our return to public worship. The previous week we had assembled in the church; this time we gathered on the lawn outside, under the shade of the trees. A dedicated team of volunteers had prepared everything for worship, including a sound system and chairs spaced carefully apart. It was a warm day and a gentle breeze provided relief from the heat.
It was also my final service as interim rector. I had badly wanted to celebrate the Eucharist with members of the congregation before I departed, and so, God willing, it happened. For many, it was the first time they had attended a public act of worship in over four months. As I looked out on the congregation and recognized the faces behind the masks, I felt a mixture of joy and sorrow. We had all been on a journey, at first together and then separated by the coronavirus. Except, our separation was not absolute, because in the four months away we were held by the hand of God and united in one spirit: the spirit of love, which knows no distances or spans of time. ...