Who locked the church doors?

The entities in our society who've disappointed me the most during the pandemic are the public libraries and the Christian churches—particularly  the large ones with healthy budgets and large staffs. Both are evangelists, although for different causes. One for information and learning and the other for Jesus Christ and a life style that includes worship, charity, and good works.

I was a librarian for many years (Slavic studies, Latin American studies, cataloger, bibliographer, Agriculture, Veterinary Medicine) and have worked in libraries since I was a teen-ager, I know what they mean to people seeking health information, assistance with school work, leisure activities, access to computers, and mind-numbing recreational reading--all of which should have been considered essential during a pandemic. It's just not difficult to "social distance" in a library, or for the staff to keep a library clean. One summer my assistant Sarah and I moved our entire 50,000 volume library across the hall to an empty lab so painters could give it a fresh look. And no, heavy, back breaking labor wasn't in our job description. I don't know a librarian or para-professional who hasn't done something outside the standard guidelines in order to keep her job. And usually, willingly because they love what they do and see their work as a service to society.

I've been part of a Christian faith group for as long as I can remember--from the days when I wrapped my little arms around my mother's leg as she chatted with friends after the service to the funeral of Ann Hull in February 2020 when we all hugged and cried with her family and friends. Do you know that half of the churches in the U.S. have a congregation below 75 (the median)? The average congregation has about 185 people--and that was 10 years ago--it's probably less now. They do a lot, those little churches--food pantries, hospital visits, volunteering at the local nursing home, after school classes in the faith, preparing the youth for confirmation, serving at all the funerals of the "old folks" who didn't move on to something with more glitz and glam, gathering the faithful 10 or 12 for a choir, and some don't have a full time pastor--they have sort of a circuit rider like the 19th century rural churches.

Those churches of less than 200 (many elderly or ill) probably didn't have enough people who could put together a task force or committee to drive to the state house and convince the governor that churches are just as essential as Lowe's and Walmart to the community. And do you think those little old ladies who have served at a thousand funerals and weddings don't know how to keep a church clean?

But where were the big brother churches who could have shouldered that burden? Playing with their computers, Zooming and Skyping and listening to confessions in the parking lot of their cathedrals. I don't like Teledoc and have never been one to watch TV preachers, although I am fond of old reruns of Bishop Sheen and Billy Graham.

Years ago--probably the 1970s or 1980s, an era when churches really began losing ground to the culture--my mother wrote an essay about how discouraged she was after a lifetime of service in the church to see so few young families in her small town church. I wish I could find it—never one to promote herself, she may have written it as fiction. She'd taught Sunday school, Bible school, sewed the curtains for the fellowship hall; she'd been the Christian education director, she'd birthed and raised the church organist, she'd decorated and served in the church nursery; she'd made thousands of casseroles and Jello salads for church dinners, she volunteered for 30 years in the local nursing home; she donated her garden produce, she taught sewing to migrant workers, she led a Friday morning Bible study in her home for years, and used her own funds to create and manage a religious retreat center. She may have even had a stint running the church library because she loved libraries. And I might add, she did it all (except for gardening) in a dress, hose and heels.

I think her essay was directed at my generation, or maybe just me. I wasn't doing a fraction of what she and her generation did. My generation  gathered to sit on the floor in focus groups and have consciousness raising discussions on what it meant to be a woman in the 20th century. We were petitioning for more power on the male dominated church boards and going to the state house with signs to demonstrate for the ERA. We went back to work in droves until a second income was essential for all families, as was a 2nd car and a bigger home.

As we women discovered who we were, went off to seminary and joined the boards back in the 1970s, our children just walked out of the church after confirmation or after baptism depending on the denomination and became the "nones." Somehow, I just can't see the women who struggled through the Great Depression and WWII, whose husbands and brothers had gone off to defend our religious freedoms and assembly and speech freedoms putting up with the government making rules that would cause the pastors and church boards to put a lock on the church door.