Even God Has Had to Wait

Or how worshippers have suffered during these desert times

I was born into a Catholic family, but never ever a religious one. And there’s a huge difference. However, later in life, I became religious, and interested in religions, because what pulls me is God. I’m saying this not because this will be a religious essay but because whichever the faith you are a believer of — even if not a great follower of organized religion, like me — this year has also been tough in that sense: the need for many human beings to have faith in some entity greater than themselves and to worship that entity. That’s something that we, too, have missed. Even God has had to wait, being put on hold.

I had started thinking about this — the fact that even God was on a different scope — back on March 27, when Pope Francis celebrated an Urbi et Orbi ritual blessing for the end of the pandemic. Watching Saint Peter’s square completely empty, watching the Pope completely alone was touching, even if you're not even a Catholic. That unprecedented, atypical, unedited, off and dramatic moment was the first of this kind that Man would experience during this unprecedented, atypical, unedited, off, and dramatic year in terms of reaching out to God… whichever.

“Like the disciples in the Gospel we were caught off guard by an unexpected, turbulent storm.”

— Pope Francis, during Urbi et Orbi

And the months went by and so did the paramount dates, celebrations, rituals, worshipping days for many millions of God believers… any God. The Holy Week for the Catholic on April 5 with Palm Sunday, finishing on Easter Sunday; the Muslims’ Ramadan, the month of fasting from April 23 to May 23, when Saudi Arabia’s city of Mecca is normally packed with pilgrims specifically to walk around and touch the Kabbah.

Closer in time, the Jewish Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur — the Jewish New Year finishing with the latter, the greatest of the High Holy Days, the Day of Atonement, from September 18 to 27.

These, of course, are just 3 examples of how big populations worship; in fact, the three monotheist Abrahamic religions I have had access to information due to where I live and how I’ve begun reflecting on God in more recent years. I have to confess that I know way too little about other ways of worshipping, like Buddism, Confucianism, Taoism, Hindusim, Sikhism. Area of opportunity, indeed.

I’m not going to go into much depth into the specific and various celebrations missed already by each of the three religions’ worshippers I’ll focus on, but more on the similarities missed, lost, cried upon, suffered from, irremediably gone this year for all these three populations of worshippers. That is, I choose to see the points in common even if I mention examples. I want to draw attention to the similarities.

Worshipping as a community in sacred places

From the beginning of times, Man has had the need to worship some entity higher than himself, and building spaces to do so has marked big moments in history, beyond the pure and mere architectural aspect. History itself has been ruled, somehow, by the flows of religions arising and expanding, and constructing shrines and sacred places has been a must to all.

I don’t know about you, dear reader, but when I travel I take great pleasure in visiting — and honoring — churches, temples, synagogues, mosques. Simply and solely because someone’s God resides there. When in Saint Petersburg I visited many beautiful churches, and in one a woman explained to me — just through body language, of course, for they don’t speak any English — that I was not allowed to take pictures in this very one because it was disrespectful. I felt absolutely ashamed — I didn’t mean to, of course, but it was just breathtaking. The point is that these places are where God dwells, or where God is encountered. Where Man can fulfill his need to either show gratefulness, redemption… or to beg for the future. And this year people probably, more than ever, have needed to beg due to the uncertain present and future ahead.

And we were ripped of this opportunity in the times when we most needed it.

Sacred places mean a lot to many because they unite us as a community. For all three religions being the focus in this piece, not being able to worship in the sacred places as a community, as usual, has been harsh.

Big gatherings and meals

For people of the three religions here, traditional celebrations on their holy days imply big gatherings and meals. Be it because certain practices are not allowed on these days — the use of electro domestics, cars, public transportation, according to what I read — for the Jews, so they gather with people close to them, or because the breaking of the fast at the end of the day, the iftar, and the eating of the pre-dawn meal the next day are of major relevance for Muslims.

They are joyous occasions, like it is for Catholics in Mexico on December 12, the day of our Lady of Guadalupe, when pilgrims from all over the country walk long distances to sing Las Mañanitas to her in La Villa (her basilica) canceled this year, already… on these occasions, people gather and share meals profusely as part of the religious celebrations behind.

I just mentioned December 12, and we’re in November, but it’s around the corner — especially considering the forecasts — so that means that very likely Christmas for Catholics will also be strange, to say the least. Because for most in this bracket, in very religious settings, Christmas is the major gathering of the year, reuniting families for large feasts. Now what?

Singing, praying, speaking aloud

I believe in the three religions in this piece, worshipping implies singing, praying, and/or speaking aloud. Wearing face masks — and even in the outdoors due to no safe indoor-worshipping — makes it very difficult to understand each other, so how can people go about this if worshipping poses such a health risk, having to sing and pray louder? This is an essential part of honoring God, and people have to restrain themselves from doing it as usual.

The eating of the holy wafer in Catholic masses implies removing the mask, even if received on your hand and not directly in your mouth, as is customary — was, in pre-Covid-19 times, at least — would present a risk.

So is the case in Judaism and Islamism: loud singing, at least, and praying. Whether it’s choirs or all attendants together, worshipping implies praying aloud, of some sort. Precisely major communal celebrations call for major praying and singing.

Rituals

All religions have their own rituals and all deal with preparation, enjoyment, and closure. I mentioned above the holy wafer in the Catholic Eucharist, but even before a Catholic reaches that moment in mass, he has had to shake hands with his neighboring parishioners when the priest says: ‘Let us offer each other the sign of peace’. How can offering each other the sign of peace be such a risk? We’re not even supposed to greet people by hand, anywhere. Churches were closed for months on end, and even when reopened, with very restricted capacities, how can you go and not experience the most important moments of it fully?

Jewish women having difficulties going to their ritual baths, because of the pool restrictions themselves, and the distances they were not supposed to exceed; Jewish men in Israel, having to gather in small numbers, with plastic boundaries among them before the Western Wall in Jerusalem. That must have been eerie. Shofar in parks — the ram horn blowing at the beginning of Rosh Hashana — now taken into buildings because people were confined in there. Unbelievable.

“I have tears in my eyes.”

— Zalli Jaffe, the president of the Great Synagogue, who had opend the Synagogue for praying even during wartimes

Muslims in Egypt — or elsewhere, for that matter — couldn’t go around the city between the breaking of the fast and the beginning of the next one, and they couldn’t participate in the Banquets of the Merciful — the offering of meals to the poorest of the poor — because of the curfews that started precisely when the banquets were supposed to be given away.

“It was hard on my heart. When I call people, nobody can come. It feels like God is refusing us.”

— Sheikh Mohamed Rashad Zaghlou, the muezzin at Al Azhar, 1078-year-old mosque in Cairo

And as mentioned before, what about Saudi Arabia closing of the Holy City of Mecca for the beginning of Ramadan this year? How many devotees must have suffered tremendously not being able to do the pilgrimage to THE holiest city of all, to solemnly walk around the Kabbah… and touch it!

I felt the same indescribable sensation when I saw a video of this; the same as with Saint Peter’s Square empty, or the Western Wall with awful boundaries to divide worshippers. My heart sank. This is not supposed to happen. This is not the way to worship. One has needs, come on!

Online solutions

I know online options have arisen to find ways to help people deal with this lack of worshipping God in the worst of times: when many have needed theirs the most. Catholic masses, from Vatican City and from local archdioceses being available on the radio, TV but now mostly on the internet. The Jewish creating an abridged version of the ceremonies accessible and downloadable from the internet, too, for shorter, less risky celebrations. Who would have seen this coming!

In Egypt, due to the curfew during the long hours of the night, the TV series — that keep company to everyone after iftar and until the pre-dawn meal — would not be enough, so the TV company worked particularly hard to assure that curfewed people had plenty of Ramadam entertainment, somehow. They were criticized, too, but people needed to survive the atypical situation.

Last week I read a Facebook post by an unlikely friend — she’s too young to be my friend and she’s truly devoted. And yet, we respect each other and along the years we have enriched our minds and hearts precisely out of our differences. In her post she speaks to her recently baptized baby nephew, she being the Godmother. She uses the words ‘spirituality desert’ that these times have been, and that Jesus Christ permanently lives ‘quarantined’ waiting for us to go visit him. Thanks, Vero, for reminding me that these times have been somehow a desert and that these feelings had to be addressed.

P.S. I apologize in advance if I misread or misinterpreted the information on Judaism or Islamism.