On the Closure of Churches–3

Well, we have finally succumbed to the pandemic and held our first video discussion. I am still not live-streaming services (although I have done so, many years ago, for reasons completely unrelated to the current pandemic). The topic of our virtual discussion was the Eucharistic presence during the lock-downs, and what it means, or whether it is possible, to be present at the Eucharist via video chat. The participants in our discussion shared many interesting ideas and perspectives, and here are a few of my own afterthoughts.

A word of caution

First and foremost, we all seemed to agree that just because technology exists, that does not mean that it is good or appropriate by default. It seems that almost universally, almost without questioning, Orthodox churches began to live-stream services as soon as the various procurators and governors told us to do so. The situation was developing very rapidly, the technology was immediately available, and we dove in without an opportunity to question the very nature of what we were doing. Essentially, Facebook Liturgies caught us by surprise. On the one hand, some, like me, had already experimented with live-streaming for years–though never as an alternate way to “attend” services. On the other hand, we have all become very used to enjoying various audio and video recordings of everything church-related–from Liturgies to church choir concerts, and from Orthodox fiction to daily prayers. So, when we were told to log on for the Eucharist, we did not find this too objectionable. Yet the theological work of examining the spiritual safety and implications of these practices has not yet been done.

For example, it is easy to create an application for a tablet that would automatically display the icon of the day. A great solution for small missions that are not able to afford all of the festal and other icons, right? Or, how about another tablet (naturally, in a jeweled case) that automatically displays the proper Gospel passage? Why not? It is becoming acceptable to see tablets and smartphones in choir lofts, and even in the altar, where some clergy use them instead of service books. Why would we readily accept an icon that has been mass-produced in a printing shop with artificial paints, even on plastic or laminated, or even printed at home from a computer, but not the very same icon still on a screen? There are myrrh-streaming icons that are not hand-painted but factory-produced. Can there be a myrrh-streaming tablet one day?

What is prayer? 

One of the obvious questions to ask with respect to our use of technology is whether listening to daily prayers on a car stereo, mp3 player, or smartphone is actually prayer. This practice has quietly entered our modern lives, and it is not uncommon for Christians to say that they listen to the morning prayers on their way to work or school. Certainly, it is better to listen to prayers, psalms, the Gospel, or even just a good audio-book than to the newscast with its incessant corona death ticker; but is listening to prayer actually prayer? If I listened to morning prayers on my phone, can I say that I completed my morning prayer rule?

Clearly, prayer is not about the act of reading. We do not urge the faithful to participate in common prayer in church by each one reading from a personal prayer book. Even more to the point, as a student of comparative religion, I may read or study any number of texts, including heterodox and non-Christian prayers on a daily basis without actually praying to the various gods and goddesses. Prayer is also not necessarily about focus or concentration. While it is true that it is easy to get distracted while listening to audio recordings, it is also easy enough to get distracted while standing in church. Noisy children, noisy adults, plans for later in the day, anxieties about viruses or the economy, aches and pains–distractions are plentiful during every church service. If one wishes to avoid some of the most common distractions, the same would do well to retreat to a secluded hermitage or to summit a mountain. But those who have done just that reveal that the inner distractions and battles begin to rage in such seclusion with ever greater intensity.

Perhaps–just to propose a possible answer–prayer is demarcated not so much by the perfection of our meditative focus or by the officially-sanctioned number of specific prayers to be checked off the morning checklist, but by an act of entering sacred space and time, of removing our shoes in order to stand on hallowed ground. Maybe this is the answer to the question of whether it is good to have morning prayers playing on the background while driving to work or washing up breakfast dishes. The words of prayers are correct, the mental focus is present, but the space and time are profane. However, it is important to repeat that, to the best of my knowledge, no serious theological work has been done to explore this issue, and perhaps, in the final analysis, playing prayers on the background all day long on a loop may be spiritually beneficial.

Present where?

The Eucharist by video-chat presents a myriad of other layers of complexity. One of the central–if not the central–ideas of the Eucharist is the presence of the Ecclesia, the “called-out,” the Body of Christ. Without the Body–that is, the faithful–being present, there cannot be the Body–that is, the holy bread and wine. In the prayer of the anaphora, the priest asks God to send down His Holy Spirit upon us [first and foremost!], and upon the Gifts offered on the altar table. The primary purpose of the Liturgy is not so much in the transmutation of bread or wine, as it is in the gathered community being revealed to be the Body of Christ. What happens when this community is virtual?

To be sure, some have proposed that it only takes two or three to gather together,” and the priest together with a chanter and an acolyte constitute the necessary community. Necessary for what? Are we not encouraging our parishioners to join us via a live-stream? If so, then in what capacity? As spectators of a spiritual reality show or as the Church, the Body of Christ? Because if it is as the latter, then how is this possible? And if as the former, then, to paraphrase Greta Thunberg, how dare we?

Two necessary elements of a gathering are, once again, space and time. If I call a meeting but do not specify where it will take place or at what time, then the meeting will not become a reality. And from the time that the Apostle Paul wrote a letter to “the Church of God which sojourns in Rome” until a couple of months ago, we all could mostly agree on this issue. But where precisely does a video-chat community sojourn? Is it in the building which happens to house one of the video cameras or in some virtual space, a cloud? 1 Thess. 4:17 suddenly takes on a whole new prophetic meaning: “Then we … shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air…”

The problem is roughly as follows. If virtual “presence” is sufficient for Eucharistic presence, then a priest should be able to officiate at a Liturgy via video-chat. Perhaps, for the fear of the virus, an elderly or otherwise-infirm priest could physically remain at home and “attend” the Liturgy in the same manner as the rest of the faithful–by a video call. A pious deacon could carefully place a smartphone on a tripod in front of the holy table, prepare the bread and the wine, and the priest could then offer prayers “in behalf of all and for all.” In an even more bizarre twist, if the deacon is also elderly or infirm, a remote-controlled robot or a drone could be used to prepare all necessary items, and both the priest and the deacon could be “present” by video from the safety of their own homes. To go another step further, the entire setup–the church, icons, holy table, etc.–can be simply created in virtual reality–“because corona,” to prevent any possibility of spreading anything at all. If all of this sounds ridiculous, it is necessary to remember that this is precisely how the Body of Christ–the Holy Church, the Ecclesia, the elect of God (1 Thess. 1:4), the community of the faithful–has been treated during this lock-down–told to gaze at screens in order to partake of “spiritual Eucharist.”.

I am not at all arguing that a remote Liturgy is impossible in principle, or that the “descent and power and operation of the Holy Spirit” is limited by physical distances, or any other such thing. I simply believe that before secular authorities compel us to commune by receiving FDA-approved Gifts delivered by Amazon Prime, we should engage in preemptive theological work and explore these matters, lest we be caught “sleeping and taking our rest” (Matt 26:45).

One more interesting question that exposes the complexity of the issue of virtual presence is the possibility to live-stream more than one service at one time. If I choose to do so, where exactly would I be “present”? Which community would I be a member of? Could one choir virtually accommodate two priests serving at two different parishes, so long as they synchronize their exclamations? This may seem like an unlikely problem, but it is hardly so. Just as polygamy can be concurrent or consecutive (think of divorce and re-marriage), the “double” Eucharist can also be concurrent or consecutive. If watching a live stream of a Liturgy equals participation in the said Liturgy, then all of the clergy and faithful in the U.S. who watch the live broadcast of the Paschal service at Christ the Savior Cathedral in Moscow every year should not participate in any more services on that liturgical day. That is to say, canonically, they cannot celebrate the Paschal Liturgy at their own parishes after “attending” the one in Moscow (or anywhere else) just a few hours earlier.

I know that we are in the middle of a pandemic, desperate times, desperate measures, etc., but how many weeks or months need to pass before we begin to work with some of the uncomfortable questions?

On whether Liturgies must continue

One of the most uncomfortable questions is whether the celebration of the Liturgy should continue in the absence of the faithful. As Father John Klingel eloquently concluded, “an essential part of the Church community is missing and without that part, the Church cannot fulfill herself and manifest her identity as a holy nation, the people of God.” Fr. John argues that under current circumstances, it would be best for some of the parishes “to be closed and the liturgical life suspended indefinitely.”

On the other hand, some argue that the celebration of Liturgies must continue, even if just by one priest alone. “The world stands so long as the Liturgy is celebrated!”–the words of Saint Seraphim (Zvezdinsky) are often quoted. It is not at all obvious just what is meant by those who quote these words. Because, if we are Christians who eagerly await the coming of our Lord, should we not cease all liturgical activity immediately and thus welcome the coming of Christ within a week? But if we feel compelled to continue our services in a bid to delay Christ’s coming as much as possible, what does this say about us? What kind of a bride would do everything in her power to prevent the groom from coming for her?

If we follow this reasoning, how many Liturgies per day should be celebrated to effectively maintain the “standing of the world”? One per diocese? One per nation? Just one–somewhere on Mount Athos, for example? Why should every little parish be live-streaming the Sacrament of the Body into the world-wide-void?

I genuinely sympathize with the psychological need of people to connect, fellowship, see each-other’s faces and hear voices–even if via a video link. It is the same need that is also common to sailors at sea and cosmonauts in orbit. But is this really our main goal in this case–to provide therapy for loneliness through the Liturgy? As much as I believe that the Divine Liturgy is the most precious Gift, is it not the wrong tool for the job? Should we be reaching for the Chalice when what is needed is a cup of tea? Pastoral check-ins by phone or video, group chats and discussions, singing songs together, or reading to one another–all of this is much needed and perfectly appropriate. In other words, a pastoral, rather than priestly, approach is what is truly needed today. So, why put most of our pastoral time and effort into live-streaming the Eucharist?  Besides, would it not be those most in need of fellowship–the lonely, the elderly, the infirm–who would also have the most difficulty using streaming technology? Is anyone paying attention when someone fails to tune in for a YouTube Liturgy?

In the end, sacraments via the internet and “gatherings” to celebrate “spiritual Eucharist” with VR goggles may become the norm for the “Church of God which sojourns in the Cloud.” The validity of these apps may even be declared “equally salvific,” as they say in such cases. But if this happens, I truly hope that it will happen on our own terms, after serious and prayerful theological work undertaken by the Church as she continues her mission in the world, and not as forced compliance with some procurator’s or governor’s executive order “because corona.”

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See also:

On the Closure of Churches

On the Closure of Churches – 2

Liturgical Minyan

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