EASTER IN QUARANTINE

By ANDREW MCGINN

a.mcginn@beeherald.com

Christians are lousy at staying home.

As the Rev. Julie Poulsen observed, gatherings are core to the faith.

“For where two or three gather in my name,” Jesus says in Matthew 18:20, “there am I with them.”

So, admittedly, it’s going to be odd on Easter Sunday — the high point of the Christian calendar, celebrating the resurrection of Jesus Christ three days after his crucifixion — for Poulsen to look out and see a church that’s as empty as the tomb.

“I’ve always been in church for Easter. My whole life,” explained Poulsen, 64, pastor at the First United Methodist Church in Jefferson. “I’ve never had a church empty on Easter. That’s going to be really strange.”

She’ll nevertheless take her place in the pulpit Sunday morning and preach, not into the eyes of friends, but into her cellphone.

Like other churches around Greene County, and all across the nation, Poulsen’s Easter message will be livestreamed on Facebook at 10:30 a.m. Sunday for people riding out the COVID-19 pandemic in their homes.

“It’s more fun to look at people’s expressions,” Poulsen confessed.

The governor’s state public health emergency declaration — extended Monday to 11:59 p.m. April 30 to mitigate the spread of a novel coronavirus that so far has killed more than two dozen Iowans — explicitly names spiritual and religious gatherings in prohibiting gatherings and events of more than 10 people.

“It’s really hard for human beings to be apart,” said Poulsen, who’s now in her 39th year as a minister. She’ll start her 10th and final year in Jefferson in July.

Never in this lifetime has the Easter season been commemorated under a virtual quarantine.

In fact, in extending permission on March 30 to include holy communion in livestreamed worship services, Bishop Laurie Haller, resident bishop of the Iowa Area of the United Methodist Church, cited a theological precedent set way back during the Black Plague known as In Extremis — Latin for “extreme circumstances.”

Never before has Poulsen administered the sacrament of communion virtually, but she planned to lead local Methodists through the rite on Maundy Thursday, the day that commemorates the Last Supper.

This year, Holy Thursday is strictly BYOB — bring your own bread.

“It goes against the grain,” Poulsen explained. “It’s supposed to be a community time.”

In Extremis, indeed.

Methodists have been worshipping in Greene County since 1853. Not even the dreaded Spanish flu in 1918 — a pandemic that claimed the lives of 16 Jefferson residents — affected Easter, because it occurred during the fall and winter.

On Good Friday, the day marking Christ’s execution, Poulsen invites her virtual congregation to join her for a service at 7 p.m. that will conclude with the lighting of a candle. All viewers will then be asked to blow out their candle in unison.

Catholics are also spending their Holy Week, the apex of the church’s liturgical year, in isolation. The Diocese of Sioux City on March 16 suspended all public Masses for an initial period of eight weeks. The diocese has since asked that Catholics participate in praying the Litany of the Sacred Heart of Jesus for an end to the pandemic at 11 a.m. on Good Friday.

“Future generations will look back on this as the long Lent of 2020, a time when disease and death suddenly darkened the whole Earth,” Archbishop Jose H. Gomez of Los Angeles, president of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, said in a statement. “This Holy Week will be different. Our churches may be closed, but Christ is not quarantined, and his Gospel is not in chains. Our Lord’s heart remains open to every man and woman. Even though we cannot worship together, each of us can seek him in the tabernacles of our own hearts.”

But there’s no denying the special draw of those tabernacles come Easter Sunday, one of two times a year that pews are almost guaranteed to be full.

The local Methodist church, a picturesque, Modern Gothic structure dedicated in 1951, features inspiring stained glass, including one window of Christ in prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, the site of his betrayal by Judas and his arrest.

“It’s not only going to be a spiritual letdown,” Poulsen said of not being able to attend church on Easter, “but a family letdown.”

Even family dinners will be on hold.

Growing up as the daughter of a Methodist minister, Poulsen remembers Easter as a day for new clothes, hats, gloves, purses and fancy shoes. A ham dinner with grandparents always followed worship, and her father, the Rev. Dr. Jim Poulsen, was always so happy because the church had been full.

Adjusting to life amid COVID-19 is especially difficult for pastors, who are just naturally huggy.

“I’m such an extrovert,” Poulsen said. “I really miss seeing people, and being with people.”

Her first graveside funeral service during the pandemic seemed almost surreal, given how much distance she had to keep from the family.

Even praying with someone has taken on a different vibe.

“I normally take the person’s hand and pray with them,” she said.

Poulsen is also finding it more difficult to write sermons in isolation.

“I get a lot of inspiration from people having questions or hearing about their walk,” she said.

However, Poulsen explained, God hasn’t abandoned his people.

“Fear not. God is with you,” she said, echoing the message that’s been on the church’s sign since the pandemic reached Iowa. “There are some people who are legitimately afraid. They’re true fears, not made-up fears.”

People are rightfully scared — for their health, for the health of their loved ones, and for their jobs.

“God is here. He knows what’s going on,” Poulsen said. “He won’t leave us orphaned.”

Poulsen admittedly doesn’t know what will happen in the coming days to each and every member of her flock, let alone herself, but the annual message of Easter is one of triumph over death.

“I trust God to get us through this,” Poulsen explained. “Even if I die, I know I’m in God’s hands.”

There may even be some good to come out of isolation, she said. She hopes that isolation brings families closer, and that they again worship and eat together.

But until that day, a livestreamed church service on Facebook looks about the same as a regular service. Poulsen noted that older people are the ones watching and commenting.

It would seem the age-old question of how to reach younger people persists, even well into a national health crisis.

“I don’t know how to put a church service on Instagram,” Poulsen said.