There’s a local small town pastor
On a most exhausting search
For the answer to his question
“When do I reopen my church?”
When he joined this congregation
He never dreamed he see the day
He would have to close the front door
To keep his parishioners safe
A nasty little virus
Made pandemic worldwide news
And as a result of government actions
He had to empty out the pews
Two months have passed and rumour has it
That he may be allowed to open the door
But the powers-at-be have rules he must follow
Which makes his decision a chore
With a family of a hundred and twenty
Only fifty are allowed inside
But seniors and young families need to stay at home
So there are only ten that qualify
That solves the social distancing
One person per two rows
But they are responsible to disinfect the pews
Before they head for home
There will be no need for a worship team
Because singing isn’t allowed
But maybe they can watch a video or two
Of the Gaither Homecoming crowd
Instead of wine and bread
They would have water and Fisherman’s Friends
“No coughing of any kind allowed!”
The means justify the ends
All of these crazy rules aside
The pastor’s main concern
“What am I going to teach them?
What will they want to learn?
They will be so stressed out with all the rules they must keep
They’ll be distracted and downcast
Missing hugs from their friends and families
And longing for the past”
As the pastor weighs the pros and the cons
He whispers a little prayer
“Jesus, where are you in all of this
And do you even care?
How do I open the building
And leave the sick outside?
When it’s clear that it was for the sick you came
And with them you still abide
I guess the question I really want to ask
Is how can I be more like you?
Where would you be right now
By their bed, or in my pew?”
Now there’s a local small town pastor
On a less exhausting search
To discover the truth and allow himself
To redefine the Church
© Ruby Neumann
Poet's Note: Written Sunday, May 24, 2020
This morning, I am trying to verbalize my frustrations. I haven't been a committed attendee of a building called church for over twelve years. But I find myself frustrated at the circus involved for people to get back to those very buildings that I left so many years ago. I realize the building is important to some very important people in my life… so I need to let my issues rest and chose to understand and empathize for the people who still find value in a building that they have been banned from.
This "local small town pastor" is a character in a poem, but the question that is asked… "Jesus, where are you in all of this and do you care?" is MY question. "Jesus, do you care about the building? What is your Church supposed to look like in this time? How do so many move forward, instead of wishing they could go back in time when rules and policies and safety measures were more adhering to their social and religious needs?"
It is a question that, for me, still goes unanswered.
(Please see attached Youtube Video log where Ruby recites Corona Church )
