Religion in an age of Covid

Sunday sermons, weekday observations

Not yesterday, but nine months ago, at the height of Covid time, I arrived for holy Mass at one of the churches where I was a regular, and was confronted by a burly, unsmiling usher in brown sweater over white tee shirt who told me where to sit, pointing to the taped cross mark on the pew seat’s back.

He stood watching, waiting to see where I sat, not only in the right pew but in the right portion of it. Chilling time it was in those days.

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