Remember that scene from the Gospels when Jesus stops to put on his mask and gloves before he heals the leper? Or the time that he calls the authorities because there are too many dirty, unmasked children pressing in on him? Neither do I.
Over the past year of dealing with COVID-19, I’ve kept asking myself two questions:
What is Jesus thinking about how the world is behaving right now?
What are we teaching our children?
First, the Jesus question. What does he think about us keeping each other at arm’s length? What does he think about seniors and seriously ill patients being isolated in their small rooms without a hand to hold or a familiar face to calm their fears? What does he think about his flock watching Mass on screens, instead of actively participating in his Most Blessed Sacrament? What does he think about a masked laity approaching him at Communion time?
Of course I can’t presume to know what Jesus is thinking. But I can glean from what he taught us while he walked on this earth that as Christians we are called to care for and serve each other, even if it leads to suffering.
When he called us all to his table at the Last Supper, he didn’t say, “but only come if you’re healthy and if there’s no pandemic occurring.” He said, “Do this in memory of me,” with no caveats, no ifs or buts.
One might argue there was no pandemic raging in Jesus’ day, and even if there was, he’s God, so there’s that. But the whole point of his time on earth was to show us how to live and how to love each other and how to be a Church. Christianity is based on us being like Christ to each other. How can we do that effectively with masked smiles, from a six-foot distance or in forced isolation?
Turning to the second question of how children are affected by all this, I’ll first make a little confession. If I am to be completely honest, I breathed a little sigh of relief a year ago when we all entered into COVID-19-induced lockdown. It was a big weight off my shoulders to hunker down at home with my family and have the normally full schedule wiped clean. We had lots of family movie nights. We had a yard to play in. Nobody lost employment in our household, and no one was sick.
In our house there are enough children that everyone has a playmate if they want one (and sometimes when they don’t). But what were the ramifications of isolation on those one- or two-child homes where video games were the primary companion?
When lockdown lasted much longer than anyone anticipated, the collateral damage I didn’t expect was our governments and Church officials effectively cancelling our sacramental life. In the blink of an eye, the daily faith activities of so many people were deemed “non-essential.”
How do you explain the cancelling of Mass to your children who have only ever missed Mass due to illness? An integral part of their life was suddenly taken away. My husband and I have worked hard to teach our children that Sunday Mass is the focal point of their week and not to be missed. We truly felt like we had been abandoned.
Sure, we set up the projector and watched Mass on the living room wall, becoming like so many other couch Mass-attenders. At first, we even knelt and responded at the proper times. We made the best of it until we came to the conclusion that although we were going through the motions, attending Mass via livestream was not really attending Mass at all. We were hungry for real spiritual food.
The nagging question in the back of my mind was constantly present: What are we teaching our children? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve asked that question in the past year. I’ve asked it to myself and I’ve asked it to neighbours, friends, and family members, and no one can answer. What are we teaching children when we force them to isolate from friends and family and make them cover their faces every time they go out in public?
How about wearing masks in church? Children should never be afraid to approach God or feel like they have something to hide from him. We are putting a lot of responsibility on little shoulders, telling precious children to cover up their beautiful faces made in the image and likeness of God because they might cause someone to die. Some might say we are teaching them to “care for others,” and that may be a part of the motive, but does it outweigh the cost?
As Christians we are called to “care for the other,” but certainly not at the expense of our own health, physical, mental, and spiritual. It also doesn’t mean we must worry about every potential circumstance. My children have the privilege of living with their 86-year-old grandmother, and we do everything we can on a daily basis to make sure she is cared for – that she doesn’t slip on the ice, that she doesn’t trip on a toy, and that we don’t sneeze or cough on her. But my mom knows we are all here at the mercy of God, and we are not, and cannot be, in control of everything, including every droplet that may or may not contain a virus.
I am not afraid of contracting COVID, but I am concerned about the collateral damage pandemic restrictions have done to our society, our kids, and especially our community of faith. The most precious activity in our lives – receiving Christ in the Eucharist – was taken away from us overnight with little to no resistance.
Neighbours have turned against neighbours. Precious moments between friends and family have been missed, many never to be repeated. We have lost many of the faithful, perhaps permanently, to online or televised Mass because, as I’ve heard countless times, “it’s the same thing.” This is scary stuff.
My heart breaks every time I go to Mass and look around at the all the masked faces. I am grateful for the opportunity to go to Mass, but, sadly, it sometimes feels like attending Mass during COVID is more about the regulations than the Mass itself. Many are so preoccupied with measuring distances, blocking off pews, and sanitizing that there is a grave danger of losing focus on Jesus, who, without hesitation, approached lepers without mask or gloves.
Am I an anti-masker, COVID-denier belittling the seriousness of a global pandemic? No, and I do respect the need to protect the vulnerable – within reason. I wear a mask in public places. I register for Mass and I keep my distance. But I’m not sure that I should, and I’m not convinced that my children should. And I’m not sure Jesus would want us to. The cost might be too high.
Lazzuri writes from her home in Nova Scotia, where she lives with her husband, six children, and her mom. She can be reached at clarelazzuri@gmail.com.
