We tried very hard to continue our weekly ritual of prayer and worship.

Like many families, we created a small home altar. We lit a candle. We set out a statue of Mary. We stood. We knelt. We sang. We tried.

Our parishes tried, too.

Priests who never heard of Facebook Live quickly learned how to livestream. They bought tripods and tried different camera angles. Some relied on their parishioners to lend expertise on video production. Everyone tried their best in a difficult time.

I know quite a few priests, so my Facebook feed was inundated with livestream Masses in the early days of the pandemic.

Every day, I would scroll through and see priest after priest celebrating Mass in an empty church. I would watch them receive Communion, give a small teaching, and do all the rituals associated with the prayer.

They were doing their best.

As the weeks went on, the experience of watching Mass got more difficult for my family.

I would often miss the readings or homily because I was wrangling our toddler.

In the end, Mass was more of a spectator sport than worship experience.

What became clear to us after weeks of watching online Mass was that it boiled down to watching someone else pray.

We who sat in our living room weren't experiencing a sacrament.

We were watching someone else experience it.

And, at least for us, that was frustrating more than it was uplifting.

So, we stopped watching virtual Mass and we haven't watched a Mass for months.

After further reflection, I've come to realize my problem was not with live-streamed Mass.

I know many who love the experience, and it has served as a lifeline for their faith.

I think it's an important ministry and it should continue.

My problem with virtual Mass was that it was the only form of ministry I was experiencing from my parish. And because it was the only form of ministry — it was wholly inadequate.

I have witnessed creativity and ingenuity in ministry during this difficult time.

I saw parishes and priests who hosted a daily evening prayer, a weekly rosary, or weekly virtual Bible study.

I've seen parishes offering virtual lectures and other learning opportunities.

I know of priests and deacons who call their homebound parishioners to check in.

I think that is a good start to the new kind of community parishes are building. Because, we are, in fact, in the process of building a new kind of community.

There will not be a return to the way things were.

How could there be?

The world has changed and so have we.

And moving forward, that kind of ingenuity and creativity is what I'm asking of our priests and parishes. In short, how can I pray with you?

Because, I'm tired of watching you pray.

We know this pandemic is far from over and there are many, like my family, who will not see the inside of a church for many more months.

Many are scared to go back, too at-risk, and it's precisely those people who need their parish more than ever.

So, our parishes must consider how to create virtual and in-person worship experiences that are communal and meaningful.

What resources can we send to our parishioners to support their prayer at home?

How can we support young families, our elders, our homebound in their experience of faith at home?

What do we have to do to make human connections in a time when those things are in short supply? Continue reading

This is a sentiment that makes perfect sense to me.

Our current reality is one that is hard to anticipate in its particularity — pace epidemiologists that actually predict such realities for a living — and even confounds the creative minds of brilliant novelists like Stephen King.

As I have reflected on this line and feeling for the last few weeks, I have found myself considering the importance of imagination and the dangerous lack of it in our church and world today.

The world we now live in has become in many ways extremely literal; we have become focused on facts (and lies masquerading as facts), reducing the evaluation of knowledge to standardized tests and offering only binary answers to nuanced questions that surface in a complicated context that is oftentimes ignored or overlooked.

In turn, we have collectively lost the ability to see another world, another way, the real world, a better way. Cynicism has quelled forward momentum and incredulity about change has risen.

The human faculty of imagination is typically dismissed as childish or unserious, or a spectacular waste of time for those with the luxury of time to waste.

We may be told that imagination is for the daydreamers, the lazy, the immature, or the "creative types," which is another category dismissed as readily as "millennials" or other groups that "just don't get it" from the vantage point of social, political and ecclesial centres of power.

However, I am becoming increasingly convinced that imagination is our only hope.

It is the only way forward toward a better world that seems impossible to attain but is in fact only possible with God and only conceivable with our imagination.

It is not just a frivolous pastime. It is an absolutely serious and essential element for our collective well-being.

Livestreaming Masses, and many other experimental efforts have reflected the need to think imaginatively about a new way of living out our faith.

The pandemic has only put the crisis of imagination in the church into sharp relief due to the near-universal need to jettison many traditional pastoral practices, at least for a time.

Imagination is necessary for empathy, creativity, knowledge and problem-solving. As the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy summarizes:

'To imagine is to represent without aiming at things as they actually, presently, and subjectively are.

"One can use imagination to represent possibilities other than the actual, to represent times other than the present, and to represent perspectives other than one's own.

"Unlike perceiving and believing, imagining something does not require one to consider that something to be the case. Unlike desiring or anticipating, imagining something does not require one to wish or expect that something to be the case."

Unfortunately, in an age in which imagination is discouraged — or at least not welcomed and encouraged in our various spheres of living — confirmation bias and maintenance of the status quo reigns supreme, prompting us ever onward toward our entropic future.

To some extent, I believe this is what The New York Times columnist Ross Douthat (with whom I often otherwise disagree) means when he describes our age as one of decadence.

The current crisis of imagination has limited our conceptual horizon, disabling us as a society from considering and then actualizing other ways of being in the world.

A crisis of imagination is not only striking the secular realm of culture and politics, it also impedes the Holy Spirit's working in the church.

Like those who wish to maintain the status quo from centres of political power in society, there are some who have a strong interest in advancing a theological agenda in the church that is unimaginative at best and reactionary at worst.

Those without a functioning imagination resist bold, creative and, yes, imaginative initiatives proposed to respond to growing economic inequality and global climate change, among other perilous realities. Imaginative efforts like the Green New Deal are frequently dismissed out of hand for precisely this reason.

Likewise, solutions to the novel problems that have arisen in the wake of the coronavirus pandemic appear elusive precisely because we have lost the ability as a society to think creatively at the risk of appearing out of sync or disconnected from reality.

Imagination is needed; engagement with that ability we have to consider that which was unknown and bring to birth that which has never been is the only answer.

Those who have some semblance of a working imagination, like those state and local leaders brave enough to risk displeasure from their constituents for the life-saving inconvenience of economic shutdowns and social distancing orders, have shown that something we've never done before is indeed possible and challenge us to imagine other ways of existing for the sake of the common good.

But a crisis of imagination is not only striking the secular realm of culture and politics, it also impedes the Holy Spirit's working in the church. For as much as human imagination is a cognitive function, it is also a spiritual one.

Over the last two months, we have seen the rocky responses of bishops and other church leaders to the unprecedented circumstances that affect the ordinary function of the ecclesia.

Livestreaming liturgies, offering online spiritual resources, connecting with parishioners remotely and many other experimental efforts have reflected the need to think imaginatively about a new way of living out our faith.

And yet, the pandemic did not create this problem.

It has only put the crisis of imagination in the church into sharp relief due to the near-universal need to jettison many traditional pastoral practices, at least for a time.

Like those who wish to maintain the status quo from centres of political power in society, there are some who have a strong interest in advancing a theological agenda in the church that is unimaginative at best and reactionary at worst. Continue reading

No petitions have been sent heavenward asking for your safekeeping. Not even any candles lit on your behalf.