We the people denied the right to attend church during a pandemic
A man wearing a mask walks through an empty road in Rome during the coronavirus lockdown. Photo by McKenzie Fergus.
At the onset of the lockdown in Italy, Katherine Devorak and McKenzie Fergus realized they had a story to tell following Katherine’s brief admittance to a hospital and both of their subsequent quarantines in the Lazio region. Online, they stayed connected, and McKenzie and Katherine found that their streams of thought formed a tapestry. They have a lot in common: both are American expats living in Rome, and as graduate students at a Vatican-affiliated university, they are often the only non-nun women in class. They chose to interweave their unique contexts to better illustrate a big picture vision. They have welded together this piece in the crucible of the coronavirus trenches.
(OPINION) Someone was screaming. She wanted to see the local priest making the rounds in the hospital. I heard the distinct sound of repetitive slaps.
“She wants to see the priest,” I heard the nurse tell her co-worker in a low voice.
Whoever was shrieking was instead pushed into a dark empty room labeled “COVID-19.”
I signed myself out of a hospital just outside Rome on Mar. 11. I tested negative for the coronavirus. All patients, no matter why they were there, had been required to get tested. I had a stomach bug and decided to finish my regimen of meds at home. Home seemed far away — even though it was very close. At home, I would fall asleep but dream of screaming, a hospital, the sound of a slap and someone calling for a priest. In the hospital, that woman’s freedom of religion had surely been denied, but in favor of what? The promise of not infecting others?
The concept of freedom of religion embodies a remarkably important component vital to the human experience. The freedom to discover if there is a creator or a source of life that is greater. These are natural human rights. In the search for ultimate meaning, something beyond ourselves is what weaves the very fabric of human existence into being and what stretches it to its breaking point.
Americans are greatly impacted by the First Amendment. The freedom of religion shapes the soul of the country, whether the citizens know it or not. Could the writers of the Constitution have foreseen such a time as this — a deadly virus capable of wiping out so many lives?
During this pandemic, people will have to learn to do without rights that once seemed inherently given. Those liberties include the right to assemble as millions of Americans are asked to remain in isolation.
People must have the basic right to question and to act upon the answers found: that is part of what freedom of religion encapsulates. All people must have the basic right to inquire into the meaning of life; religious experience is also a common ground of existential inquiry.
“Were one asked to characterize the life of religion in the broadest and most general terms possible, one might say that it consists of the belief that there is an unseen order, and our supreme good lies in harmoniously adjusting ourselves thereto,” the great philosopher William James wrote.
One interpretation of James’ characterization of the life of religion is that all humans are a part of a large scale community and intimately share this world and its mysteries and wonders. When Catholic churches closed across Italy because of the pandemic, some reopened on Mar. 13, a Friday no less, after many Catholic students — particularly Americans — voiced concerns about missing Mass.
One student abruptly asked in a social media chat: “If we are banned from taking the holy sacrament by governmental sanctions, have we also been denied our right to exercise religious freedom?”
The coronavirus can easily pass from one person to another in a church, say during holy communion: a believed source of life. In the age of COVID-19, it functions as an invisible killer.
Italy, although a Catholic country from its birth, is home to a majority of left-leaning young people who are against what they see as the church’s overbearing ways. But Italians generally do not view freedom of religion within the same terms of “rights” as many Americans do, predominantly because they have not inherited the same history.
When the announcement was made that churches would be closed “until further notice,” some Italians began slowly grappling with many questions. As a graduate student at one of the Vatican’s universities, I experienced firsthand how classmates (ordained Catholic priests) expressed grave concern and worry about the new measures. Online chats and posts on the matter ignited on the web like wildfire.
“Is it just to remove a citizens’ right to freedom of religion in times of severe life-threatening crisis?” is a hot button question, especially for Christian expats in Italy at the moment.
These queries have only just begun and will soon travel across land and screens. America is already facing many similar dilemmas and quandaries. As the pandemic spreads across Europe and to North America, churches around the world have closed. During times of crisis, the American government can restrict fundamental rights for clear and present danger. Americans’ civil liberties will be restricted for the duration of the crisis. The nature and significance of threats posed to civil liberties during times of crisis are worth examining at a later date. Ultimately, it is how we understand and respond to the pandemic that will define outcomes.
The holy sacrament is no longer accessible for nearly all Italian Christians and now those in the U.S. Just a few weeks ago, Catholics knew that a church in Rome was only a stone’s throw away and open for prayer and/or Mass. Now, due to the pandemic, churches are closed. There are many places in the world where access to a church (let alone the Eucharist) is not possible for weeks, months and even years at a time. In China, for example, it is easy to imagine how a Christian could live his or her entire life without ever seeing the Eucharist.
It is still important to remember what it means to have religious freedom, especially when limitations impact one’s right to exercise religious practices. A Catholic priest from Pakistan had critical insight on this point, saying: “I know the value of the Eucharist. Or rather, I learned of its precious value as many towns in Pakistan are located far from a Catholic church and believers often are unable to take communion for up to two months at a time.”
Imagine going for two months without something you find precious and fundamental to your spiritual health?
“Those who celebrate Mass daily, or even weekly, will feel the need of the Eucharist in their life, and it is terrible that it is less accessible,” he said.
Many countries in Europe, where many church communities have dwindled in attendance, still consider themselves Catholic. Masses are often moved to other parishes the morning of (without warning) leaving some parishioners without Mass for another week. Those facing these difficult times and challenging sanctions may soon catch a glimpse into the lives of many other churchgoers around the world. No matter where we exercise our faith, whether that be at a synagogue, temple, shrine, mosque or basilica, perhaps this challenging time offers opportunities for us to better learn to evaluate and re-examine what we are grateful for. Americans may generally see church services as a basic commodity available to all — but many forget that we are the exception.
What will the church look like during this crisis? Maybe it resembles praying on the telephone with friends instead of at Bible studies. Or it means attending services online. Maybe when you call your church friends, steer the conversation away from “what is missing” and towards “what can be done to help.” There are countless ways to contribute. Reach out to the elderly through electronic mediums or start a letter campaign for those who are sick and alone in the hospital. At the store, do not hoard products and only take what you need. The more you overstock on supplies, the less it is available for your sick neighbors, doctors and emergency response personnel. Instead of thinking “what has been taken,” it is time we consider what we can do to help society.
A myriad of forms of the Golden Rule can be found in most religious affiliations. Imagine if similar teachings were widely considered a universal lesson that all people practiced. How different would this international crisis look?
Katherine Devorak is a graduate of The King’s College in New York City. She has written for First Things and interned for EWTN and The Human Life Review. She is a graduate student at the Angelicum Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas in Rome.
McKenzie Fergus is a Russell Berrie Fellow attending the Angelicum Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas as a graduate student. She received her Master of Divinity (M.Div) Degree at Yale Divinity School. In Summer 2020, she will work as a research professional in Washington D.C. for an NGO that advocates globally for religious pluralism, The Religious Freedom Institute.