For his July 23, 2020, ordination as coadjutor bishop of the Diocese of Peoria, Bishop Louis Tylka entered a sparsely filled cathedral, with “X” taped on pews where masked clergy and guests could sit 6-feet apart during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Pope Francis had appointed him that May, when lockdown rules barred then-Father Tylka from traveling to Peoria from his parish in the Archdiocese of Chicago.
“I had to sneak into Chicago and make a video to be the announcement,” he said.
From Peoria to the Archdiocese of Los Angeles to the U.S. bishops’ headquarters in Washington, D.C., the Church experienced disruption — and new ways to share God’s mercy. Restrictions varied by state, county, and diocese as pastoral leaders improvised new forms of ministry. Online Mass went from innovative to ubiquitous, parishes offered drive-by confession and virtual prayer groups.
Bishop Tylka supported such ministries, but spiritual scars remain. Pandemic polarization left “lasting skepticism about institutions and people in authority,” he said.
He believes the Church offers the way back — if people will walk it.
“Our Church, through the sacraments — particularly reconciliation and the Eucharist — is a bridge that people can use to bring healing,” he said. “You can lead somebody to a bridge and say, ‘This is how you cross the river.’ But they still have to be willing to step on the bridge and walk across.”
COVID creativity
Nationwide, Mass attendance plummeted initially but has rebounded nearly to 2019 levels, according to a 2023 study from the Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate (CARA). Few left altogether, but those who attend Mass a few times a year grew by 6%.
Participation isn’t an issue at St. Mel in Woodland Hills, where some Sunday Masses are standing-room-only. The parish recently launched a welcoming ministry, Landings, “for people who have fallen away from the Church to have a nice, safe place to come back to and share a meal,” said Father Steve Davoren, the pastor.
During lockdown, he allowed individuals to enter the church for personal prayer. Mass and confession were offered outdoors. For drive-by adoration, he expected 100 people, but cars lined up for a half-mile to pray before the Blessed Sacrament and receive a socially distanced blessing.
“People waited for over an hour to come through in cars, even people who weren’t Catholic,” he said.
Home blessings proved so popular that they continue.
“I think the key for us is that we never closed. We were there for them in their time of need,” he said. “You need to stay connected.”
After the nation’s first coronavirus death was confirmed on Feb. 29, 2020, near Seattle, priests there became the first to knowingly anoint COVID patients. Some hospitals banned clergy, while others permitted priests outfitted like astronauts to bring the sacraments.
“Hospital ministry didn’t fully open up until [2023]. I felt like it was almost one of the last things,” said Helen McClenahan, chief communications officer of the Archdiocese of Seattle.
Homebound ministry “shifted from focusing on the dozen people that we have always cared for, and was applied to the whole parish.”
Bishop John Stowe of Lexington, Kentucky, has a mission diocese encompassing 50 counties, most in Appalachia with pockets of deep poverty and a population that is 3% Catholic. Kentucky had among the highest COVID death rates nationwide.
The Diocese of Lexington promoted vaccination and was “pretty strict about enforcement for employees to be vaccinated,” Stowe said. “We took our lead from the Holy Father and from the best science that was available to us.”
(CNS/Deacon Skip Olson, courtesy Diocese of Lexington)
When Stowe’s aunt died during Holy Week 2020, he limited her funeral to 10 people.
“It was hard on everybody, and I experienced it as both a mourner and a pastor,” he said.
Amid ideological divisions over vaccines, masking, and other matters, “we tried to be as … pastorally accessible as possible, but also maintain the restrictions that existed for the common good.”
Some dioceses rented apartments near hospitals, where priests lived in strict isolation apart from hospital visits. Some were supported by the U.S. bishops’ Catholic Home Missions Appeal, which underwrote expensive protective gear for impoverished mission dioceses.
With many grant-funded projects canceled, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) gave mission dioceses flexibility to spend the money on emergency needs.
“Everyone became very creative, very agile. One of the things we got out of COVID was to realize that there isn’t just one way to do things,” said Kevin Day, director of Catholic Home Missions at the USCCB.
Online parish giving platforms may be the most significant change. Before 2020, dioceses and parishes were skittish, fearing they could invite scams, said Matthew Manion, a professor of church management at Villanova University.
“I think very few people have a fear of that anymore,” he said.
“Many parishes have realized that when you have online giving, the average giving per person goes up.”
In the Archdiocese of Seattle, online offertories often included the words, “Don’t forget to click your link to donate.”
“People rose to the occasion,” McClenahan said. “In a set of unknowns, the one known is the Church. So while we had this significant drop in attendance, the drop in giving didn’t nearly match that.”
Nationwide, giving is 2-3% lower than in 2019, though in the West and South it is 3-5% higher, Manion said. As of mid-2023, 16% of donors had not returned, but budgets were sustained because better-off parishioners increased their gifts by an average of 24%.
“A combination of them being less hurt and seeing a need for greater generosity, they stepped up and gave more,” Manion said.
What the pandemic made permanent
Prior to COVID, the Church of the Nativity in Timonium, Maryland, was famed for innovative evangelization, which had catalyzed growth in attendance and giving. The staff was on a planning retreat for “digital discipleship” when the lockdown hit, said Tom Corcoran, associate to the pastor at the parish in the Archdiocese of Baltimore.
Nativity prioritized welcome, “so that people who are watching [Mass] online feel part of the community and not like they’re second-rate citizens,” he said.
Today, Nativity’s leaders encourage in-person worship but maintain online Mass. It’s for the homebound and for people exploring Catholicism who aren’t ready to come to church.
“Everybody we’re trying to reach is already online and we’re in a digital age. You have to use those tools,” Corcoran said.
While Stowe initially felt awkward preaching to a camera in an empty chapel, “at least five people told me that they joined the church because of those livestream Masses, that they would have been afraid or uncomfortable at even entering a Catholic Church.”
Catholic schools thrived as they typically reopened long before public schools. Enrollment grew 3.7% in 2020-2021 and has not reversed.
“That increased enrollment was directly a result of Catholic schools opening safely for in-person and hybrid classes,” said BeeJae Visitacion, communications director of the National Catholic Education Association.
“Catholic schools repurposed gyms, all-purpose rooms, and outdoor spaces to accommodate social distancing, ensuring the health and safety of students and staff while maintaining a sense of normalcy.”
At St. John the Baptist Parish in Baldwin Park, whose 10,000 families make it the largest bilingual parish in the archdiocese, ministry “has changed dramatically since the COVID pandemic,” said Father Ismael Robles, the pastor.
“People came back to church with a greater zeal and dedication to service and ministry,” reported Robles. His parish now has more ministries, higher Sunday Mass attendance, and “significantly increased” Sunday Mass collection numbers compared to pre-COVID.
After the initial total lockdown, the parish had gradually reopened under archdiocesan guidance. But as parishioners begged to know why they couldn’t gather for Mass with masks when restaurants were serving large numbers of unmasked people, Robles decided to resume all ministries on their previous schedules.
Parishioners responded joyfully, with 500 attending weekly classes in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius.
“I know that as a Church we talk a lot about evangelization possibilities, but sometimes it is as simple as opening the doors,” Robles said.
“Sometimes in life we have to be bold and make important decisions. If those are from God he will honor them and we will see the fruits. We as a Church should not let ourselves be guided by fear, but instead by faith, hope, and love.”
How the Church looks different
Locally, most dioceses still see an impact from COVID, and new issues are arising.
As government COVID subsidies ended, “some of the housing ministries, like St. Vincent de Paul and Catholic Housing Services have seen upticks in demand, and sometimes an inability to meet that demand,” McClenahan said.
Liturgically, the sign of peace has largely shifted away from the handshake due to concerns about germs. The chalice is still not offered at some parishes.
Many longtime extraordinary ministers of holy Communion are elderly and fear constant face-to-face interactions, Tylka said. He tells pastors that, “It’s incumbent on you to invite young people — and older people — to serve.”
The key to spiritual growth during COVID was that “people were really hungry for community and a faith experience,” said Michel Therrien, president and CEO of Preambula, a Pittsburgh-area ministry to lead Catholics deeper into discipleship. In March 2020 he was preparing to welcome participants to Preambula’s newly renovated headquarters.
“So, the lockdowns hit and we went to Zoom, which was a new thing,” he said.
Catholics registered from across the country.
“People were isolated and wanted to be with other disciples that they could pray with and share their faith with during this very difficult time,” Therrien said.
When the lockdowns lifted, “our online registrations came to a screeching halt. We stopped doing it because people wanted to be in person again.”
He believes that Catholics who vanished from Mass had found their parishes dry before COVID.
“People long to have a sense of community and connection around their faith, specifically faith sharing, not just donuts and coffee,” he said. “They want to come together to be able to share and talk with other disciples about what is pressing hard into their life and hear how they experience God.”
The missing had probably been “semi-regulars,” who attended a few times annually, said Manion, the church management professor. Parishes should contact them, he wrote in a paper on COVID recovery in churches:
“Personalized, individual outreach is time-consuming and labor intensive, yet it is also the fundamental evangelizing work of missionary discipleship to which we are called.”
Source: Angelus News
