Marcy Darin | October 15, 2020
I position my blue canvas chair on a patch of grass, eyeballing the layout to make sure I am at least six feet from my neighbors. Following the instructions of our liturgical director, we have formed our own pods — clusters of parents with their children, couples and singles like me.
Dusk is beginning to creep in, turning us worshippers into silhouettes on this balmy September evening. This is my first in-person Eucharist since the advent of the pandemic in mid-March. I’m not sure when my parish will deem indoor services safe. In the interim, there are Zoom Masses, and these open-air Eucharists.
We the faithful — no more than 50 of us — have gathered in this courtyard sandwiched between our 1950s era church of ochre sandstone and its offices. Like an ecclesial weathervane, an immense cross on the rooftop of our parish hall stretches skyward, reminding us to refocus our spiritual breath.
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