And what should normal mean?

The feeling that we are ready for the return to normal is as much a product of exhaustion as of progress.

While there is much to be celebrated, especially the unprecedentedly rapid development of vaccines, the coronavirus remains both present and dangerous.

The costs and burdens of mitigation measures, especially as they affect young students and their parents, have also become clear.

A conversation about how to relax various pandemic protocols coexists with more than 900,000 total Covid deaths in the United States and with hospitals still filled to capacity in many areas.

People who are vaccinated are largely protected from severe disease and hospitalization; but for the unvaccinated and those with increased risk factors, Covid is still a deadly disease.

Combined with the increased transmissibility of the Omicron variant, this means that many health care workers are still in the trenches of the pandemic even as vaccinated people can cautiously begin to treat Covid as a risk similar to the seasonal flu.

And the ongoing burden of the pandemic is borne disproportionately by those who are already economically disadvantaged, whose work often requires more direct contact with members of the public and who have fewer resources and options to weather disruptions to child care and other practical arrangements caused by quarantines after positive test results.

The ability and willingness to sustain mitigation practices are limited resources, which must be stewarded as carefully as stockpiles of masks and medications.

One important lesson to take from these two years of pandemic is that the ability and willingness to sustain mitigation practices are limited resources, which must be stewarded as carefully as stockpiles of masks and medications.

Failure to recognize this in the early days of the pandemic, unfortunately, opened up divisions that were ripe for exploitation.

The politicization of public health guidance and cynical efforts to use the pandemic to further divide us into ideological tribes spent down resources of trust that are difficult, if not impossible, to renew quickly.

As formal Covid mitigation protocols are relaxed, it will be important to avoid worsening this tribalisation.

The temptation will be to either hold onto maximum precautions even in the face of smaller risks, or to abandon all precautions, even the least onerous.

But even while Americans may disagree about the balance of caution and risk, we need to be united in refusing to impute motives of malice or ignorance to those who think differently.

Everyone, including those who tend toward great caution and those who favour a speedy return to normal, must be willing to prioritize among various goals.

For example, encouraging vaccination is far more important than maintaining social distancing guidelines in all spaces; so, too, keeping in-person schooling for young children is far more important than ending mask mandates in all public spaces.

The church will also face any number of practical questions on the way back to normal, especially at the parish level.

Pastors and lay ministers will have to balance the relaxation of various mitigation practices with continuing care for those who are still at heightened risk, even as the coronavirus becomes endemic.

They should also take the lead in encouraging parishioners to be patient and generous with one another even when they are not on the same page about how comfortable they are in returning to Mass or, eventually, ceasing to wear masks.

The sickening normality the pandemic laid bare is that of inequality and lack of solidarity. Continue reading

Our study of more than 1,500 students at nine Australian high schools during 2020 found strong links between their level of adaptability and how they fared with online learning.

Students with higher adaptability were more confident about online learning in term 2. And they had made greater academic progress by term 4.

The important thing about these findings is that adaptability is a teachable skill.

What is adaptability and why does it matter?

We have been investigating adaptability for more than a decade. The term refers to adjustments to one's behaviours, thoughts and feelings in response to disruption.

The pandemic certainly tested every student's capacity to adjust to disruption. The switch to remote learning involved huge change and uncertainty.

Research has demonstrated positive links between adaptability and students' engagement and achievement at school and university.

As for online learning, the picture is complicated by the many factors identified as affecting its success. These include access to technology, academic ability, instructional quality, socioeconomic status, ethnicity and specific learning support needs.

The pandemic disruptions added to this complexity.

What did the study find?

Our latest study involved a survey of 1,548 students in nine schools in 2020. It covered a period of fully or partially remote online learning in maths (from the start of term 2).

We used the Adaptability Scale to assess how much students were able to respond to the disruption in their lives.

They were presented with nine statements, such as "To assist me in a new situation, I am able to change the way I do things." Students were asked to respond on a scale of 1 (strongly disagree) to 7 (strongly agree).

They also answered questions about:

• their confidence as online learners
• online learning barriers such as unreliable internet, inadequate
• computing/technology, and lack of a learning area to concentrate
• online learning support, such as satisfaction with the online learning platform
• home support, such as help from parents and others.

In the term 2 survey, we tested students' maths achievement. In term 4, they did a second maths test.

We found students with higher adaptability were significantly more confident about online learning in term 2.

These students also had higher gains in achievement in term 4. Online learning confidence in term 2 was linked to term 4 achievement gains.

After allowing for the many other factors affecting online learning, we found adaptability had a direct positive impact on student achievements.

Students who lacked adaptability tended to be less confident about online learning and it showed in their results.

Online learning support and online learning barriers also affected students' online learning confidence. Support was linked to higher confidence, and barriers to lower confidence.

Thus, as well as focusing on increasing students' adaptability, parents and schools should strive to minimise barriers to online learning and optimise supports.

So how do you teach students to be adaptable?

Boosting adaptability involves teaching students how to adjust their behaviour, thinking and feelings to help them navigate disruption. For example, in the face of new online learning tasks and demands, we could explain to students how to:

• adjust their behaviour by seeking out online information and resources, or asking for help — an example would be asking a teacher to help with an unfamiliar online learning management system such as Canvas or Moodle
• adjust their attitude by thinking about the new online task in a different way — for instance, they might consider the new opportunities the task offers, such as developing new skills that can be helpful in other parts of their lives
• adjust their emotion by minimising negative feelings, or shifting the focus to positive feelings, when engaged in unfamiliar activities — for example, they might try not to focus on their disappointment when the teacher's approach to online learning doesn't match the student's preferences or skill set.

Adaptability is a skill for life

Of course, these adjustments are helpful for navigating all sorts of disruption. Teaching young people adaptability gives them a skill for life.

It can be helpful to let students know that the three adjustments are part of a broader adaptability process — and they have control over each point in the process. The process involves:

• teaching students how to recognise important disruptions to their life so they know when to adjust their behaviour, thinking and feelings
• explaining to students the various ways they can make these adjustments to navigate the disruption (using strategies like those described above)
• encouraging students to take note of the positive effects of these adjustments so they realise the benefits of adaptability and are motivated to adapt in future
• inspiring students to practise their adjustments to behaviour, thinking and feelings so adaptability becomes a routine part of their lives.

It is fair to say adaptability comes more easily to some students than others. However, our longitudinal research among high school students has shown adaptability can and does change over time. It is a modifiable personal attribute. This is great news.

In the face of massive disruptions by COVID-19, we are constantly advised to adjust to a "new normal".

Part of this new normal is the increasing presence of online learning. Our findings show adaptability is an important personal attribute that can help students in their online learning during the pandemic — and likely beyond.

• Andrew J. Martin Scientia Professor and Professor of Educational Psychology, UNSW
• Rebecca J Collie Scientia Associate Professor of Educational Psychology, UNSW
• Robin P. Nagy PhD Candidate and Research Assistant, UNSW
• First published by The Conversation. Republished with permission.

Quarantined in a one-bedroom apartment in New York, I would sometimes imagine my fire escape was a creaky porch in the woods somewhere as I sat outside in the early evenings, listening to my neighbours' cheer and bang pots for the essential workers carrying the city on their backs.

Life felt stuck: no way to plan, nowhere to go, nothing to build toward.

The calendar had been emptied of weddings and dinners and reunions; the comforting rhythms of weeks and seasons disappeared.

I found myself alternately plotting wild adventures and pining for a quiet, communal life.

A professor of mine used to call this kind of musing "Jesuit daydreaming," his description of the rich Ignatian tradition of spiritual discernment.

I should pay attention to daydreams, he said, because they can be more revealing than I might first assume.

In this case, I think he is right: My pandemic mind loop was tracing the problem I have come to see as one of the great dilemmas of modern life.

In my work as a religion journalist, I often offer a mental image to explain the importance of the beat to secular colleagues and readers.

While not everyone describes themselves as having faith or even feeling spiritual, everyone has those searching moments in the middle of the night, covers pulled up high as they are lying in bed wondering how to have a good life.

More often than not, people's descriptions of what a good life looks like depends on a single factor: the strength of the community around them.

As a reporter, it is my job to follow along as individuals and communities try to figure out who they want to be and how they want to live.

It is hard to be a man or woman for others in a culture that is dominated by us versus them.

Over the past eight months, however, the path toward a good life has become obscured for many Americans.

As I sat inside my apartment daydreaming about the future, dozens of people

• on my street were getting sick,
• were losing family members or navigating the anxiety of being immunocompromised during a public-health crisis,
• were among many Americans, especially in New York, have spent their last eight months mostly alone, and mostly at home, sometimes unable even to wave hello to loved ones from a distance.
• contributed to the unemployment rate in New York City, which this summer reached 20 percent; many beloved businesses will likely never come back after the shutdown.
• are impacted by the basic ingredients of a good life—decent health, the warmth of family and friends, economic stability—are now out of reach for far more people in our country than at the start of 2020.

But the pandemic has also revealed the extent to which a good life felt elusive for countless Americans far before any of us had heard of Covid-19.

This is not just a matter of money or resources.

In my reporting, I constantly find evidence that Americans feel isolated and unmoored from their communities, unsure of their place in the world.

I am thinking of a Black Southern Baptist-trained pastor who could not stomach taking his kids to church within his denomination anymore because of his fellow church members' reluctance to talk about racism.

A longtime staffer at a major American archdiocese who feels daily rage at the Catholic Church's inability to address the clergy sexual-abuse crisis.

A young woman fired from her job at a conservative Christian advocacy organization because she spoke out against President Trump. A Catholic professor who bitterly wishes the Democratic Party had room for his pro-life views.

These are all examples from the world of religion and politics, but they speak to a deep and expansive truth: In many parts of American life, people feel the institutions that were supposed to guide their lives have failed, and that there is no space for people like them.

The result is a widespread sense of mutual mistrust.

Last year, the Pew Research Center found that fewer than one in five Americans say they can trust the government.

Nearly two-thirds of Americans have a hard time telling the truth from lies when elected officials speak, and even more believe the government unnecessarily withholds important information from the public.

I have encountered plenty of mistrust in the course of reporting stories.

People believe they know my politics, suspect me of bias and assume I will be hostile to religion because of where I work.

Religious leaders may be the most distrusted group of all.

As one influential Catholic businessman in Boston told me a couple of years ago, following the sexual-abuse scandal, "I go to Mass about three or four days a week.

I'm not into Vatican politics. I'm not into Vatican museums. I'm not into people who wear red slippers and fancy robes.

I bought into this as a kid, because of the life of Christ. So I'm in. But I'm not drinking any Kool-Aid."

Nearly two-thirds of Americans have a hard time telling truth from lies when elected officials speak. Continue reading

For many people unable to work over lockdown, "I think that was a good time to reassess our values."

"My expectation is - linked to COVID - that people will perhaps have had time to think about their lives, their whole life structure and what it should include and not include."

Taylor began his outreach in 2017. He said it was an open invitation for anyone who had questions about religion or just wanted to talk.

He said that the initial run of weekly sessions continued for well over a year and drew a wide range of men and women of different ages.

While most of the issues they wanted to discuss had spiritual content, that was not always the case.

Taylor saw up to three people a session but gradually they became less well attended "and I had other work pressures, so I decided to end them."

He now has more time so had decided to resume the sessions.

Taylor was ordained as a deacon in the Anglican church "late in life."

He had a career in engineering in the UK before coming to New Zealand where he ran two businesses.

He was keen to keep some of his "normality" when talking about his faith, without getting too engrossed in jargon and procedure.

His decision to make himself available every Friday was a way for him to extend some pastoral care to the community.

He said it was a challenge to help the church be seen as relevant in a time when people led such busy lives.

Source

• stuff.co.nz
• stuff.co.nz
• Image: stuff.co.nz

• Will the shock of the lockdown bring a transformative moment of social solidarity? Or tear us apart in tribal strife?
• Will there be a baby boom or baby bust? More marriages or more divorces?
• Capitalism is over, some say, while others promise the rich will only get richer.

The future of our national religious life is also the subject of growing speculation, with the sunny-side-up view arguing that we are primed for a new "Great Awakening" of the sort that have periodically transformed American culture.

This revival will be spurred, the thinking goes, by a flood of Americans who ache for a return to communal worship that has been denied them for months.

They will be joined by newcomers who, chastened by this national memento mori, discover or rediscover the balm of faith.

"Could a plague of biblical proportions be America's best hope for religious revival?" Robert Nicholson wrote in the Wall Street Journal.

"[T]here is reason to think so." Shadi Hamid of the Brookings Institution had the same question: "It could also go the other way," he tweeted, "but my instinct is to think that a great awakening is now *more* likely, at least in America, by 2050."

To many, the prospect of a resurgence in religious observance is an enticing vision, because faith communities can be anchors of social solidarity, which has been steadily eroding for decades.

The data and history tell a different story, however, and, much like the economic outlook, the forecast for religion looks more like recession than resurrection.

Historians of early Christianity note that Jesus' disciples jump-started the church's growth by remaining with the sick during various outbreaks that coursed through the Roman Empire, from the Antonine Plague in the second century to the Plague of Cyprian in the third.

"Indeed, the impact of Christian mercy was so evident that in the fourth century when the emperor Julian attempted to restore paganism, he exhorted the pagan priesthood to compete with the Christian charities," sociologist Rodney Stark wrote in The Triumph of Christianity.

The best case study for the Religious Comfort Hypothesis was the February 2011 earthquake that devastated Christchurch in New Zealand, by any measure a highly secularized country.

Yet the world is far different today.

The martyrs of Covid-19 are the doctors and nurses and essential workers who keep hospitals running, grocery shelves stocked, mass transit running, and sanitation crews and truck lines operating—the people Pope Francis calls "the saints next door."

This time, owing to the way the novel coronavirus spreads, pastors serve best by remaining isolated from the people they were ordained to serve while hospital chaplains and other ministries serve the sick and dying.

The most visible religious icons of this pandemic are the few but vocal self-styled divines who insist on holding in-person services to make a grandstand on religious liberty or to show the secular world how tough they are.

At best, they are preaching to the converted, the regular churchgoers, mainly white evangelicals and Catholics, who have already been trending conservative in recent decades.

But their unholy foolishness is not the kind of witness that will stir souls to greater observance, and surveys show their numbers are shrinking.

Such congregations have been more effective dispersal mechanisms for the virus than for the faith.

Another argument for a post-pandemic revival rests with what is known as "existential security theory," or the "Religious Comfort Hypothesis"—social scientists' way of saying there are no atheists in foxholes.

Existential security theory was popularized by political scientists Pippa Norris and Ronald Inglehart in a 2004 study that sought to explain why the global population is getting more religious, not more secular, as conventional wisdom suggests.

Their explanation: The continuing experience of death and grief causes people to turn to religion as a balm.

Richer and more secure societies, the argument goes, have less "need" for religion because faith in progress and policies—and, in the United States, a belief in our protected status as blessed by the Almighty—stands in for the comforts of traditional religion.

But what happens when natural disasters and societal breakdowns happen in industrialized countries like the U.S.?

The best case study for the Religious Comfort Hypothesis was the February 2011 earthquake that devastated Christchurch in New Zealand, by any measure a highly secularized country.

It was the worst disaster in the country in 80 years. One-third of the city's buildings were destroyed and 185 people were killed in an urban region of fewer than 400,000.

Chris Sibley, a psychology professor at the University of Auckland, and Joseph Bulbulia, a religious studies professor there, were in the midst of a longitudinal study of the values of New Zealanders when the earthquake struck.

They had data from before the disaster to compare with behaviours immediately afterwards.

"Consistent with the Religious Comfort Hypothesis, religious faith increased among the earthquake-affected, despite an overall decline in religious faith elsewhere," they concluded.

At first blush, this seems to be true for the coronavirus response, as well.

A study just published by Danish economics professor Jeanet Sinding Bentzen, a leading researcher on the religious coping phenomenon, argues that based on rates of Google searches for prayer, "the demand for religion has risen dramatically since the onset of the pandemic."

"A pandemic this size potentially changes our societies for years to come, especially if it impacts our deep-rooted values and beliefs. I find that the COVID-19 crisis impacts one of the deepest rooted of human behaviours: religion," Bentzen tweeted. Continue reading

Catholic churches used to have a common look and feel, but post-COVID-19, the new normal will likely be less familiar, it may even seem a little strange, warns Wellington priest, Pete Roe.

Roe says he thinks that as parishes plan to reopen, the need to contact trace, keep to 100 person limit on gatherings and be socially distant while inside the church, will make the feel of going to Mass very different.

Some parishes are requiring people to book a seat for Mass.

One of those asking parishioners to book is the Palmerston North city-parish area.

Designed by the Diocese "the online booking system serves a dual purpose; government required contact tracking and a way to manage numbers attending each Mass", says the Palmerston parish priest Fr Joe Grayland.

We also encourage those who do not have internet access or need assistance to phone the parish office.

Roe's parish, St Francis of Assisi Ohariu is also requiring people to book a seat for Mass.

The parish normally offers three Masses on a Sunday, however, in its weekly newsletter, the parish says that with a regular Mass count of 1,000 it will not be possible for all parishioners to get to Mass.

"We don't want people standing around outside in the cold wondering if they are going to get a seat", Roe says.

Post-Covid, the Ohariu parish plans to offer two Masses and continue to promote its Little Churches initiative where a separate Mass is live-streamed and towards the end of Mass Holy Communion is delivered to each of the Little Churches by their Little Church representative who was present at Mass.

Trialled last week for the first time, the feedback was very positive.

Without the Eucharist for eight weeks, parishioners expressed delight at the opportunity to once again receive the Holy Communion, says Roe.

Originally restricted by government regulations to just 10 people at Mass, Little Churches 'maxed out' but now with the new limit of 100, the parish is in a position to expand the number of Little Churches.

St Francis Ohariu is also offering Holy Communion to parishioners who for health or other personal reasons are unable to attend Mass in the Church or join one of the Little Churches.

However, out of concern for the people, Roe, compassionately warns "that even for those who can get to Sunday Mass it is going to look and feel different."

For example.

• People will be spread out around the Church
• People may not be able to sit in their usual seat
• There may be ushers escorting people to their seats
• It will be unlikely that people can sit with their friends
• Health and safety requires no gatherings after Mass
• Throughout Mass, but particularly at Holy Communion, people will need to keep a social distance
• There will be no singing
• People should avoid shaking hands at the sign of peace
• Some people may be wearing masks
• Holy Communion will be distributed in the hand, not on the tongue nor from the chalice
• Holy water is to be removed from the vessels at the church door
• People are asked to keep a social distance entering and leaving the Church.

Roe acknowledges there seems to be a lot of "cant's and not's" in the list but says that it is important to follow the health and safety requirements.

"Throughout the pandemic, the bishops have expressed concern for the safety of people", Roe says.

"Let's also remember the positive, people are able to go to Mass," he said.

In its pastoral letter to Catholics, the New Zealand bishops acknowledge the wonderful work done in parishes during the lockdown and registers their delight with the creative ways parishes have gathered digitally and supported each other.

Larger churches remain shut

Ironically though, with more space to use, it seems the larger venues are the ones who are tested the most.

At Auckland's St Patrick's Cathedral, the only Mass being offered starts on 2 June and is only available on weekdays at 12:15pm. The priests at the Cathedral continue to make the Sacrament of Reconciliation available on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

"We know that this will be a disappointment to all of you but we feel it is unfair at this stage to place a limit on who can and who cannot attend Mass on a Sunday", writes Pa Peter Tipene, Dean of the Cathedral, on the Cathedral's website.

Conscious of the impact of the Cathedral remaining closed, Tipene urges the Cathedral's 3,000 strong regular Mass-goers to not attend Mass at a smaller parish that may be open on Sunday, rather he urges people to continue to watch Mass on Shine TV (Channel 25 or Sky Channel 201), pray at home and listen to Cathedral music via its Spotify page.

In Wellington, the central city church, St Mary of the Angels remains completely closed. Parish Priest, Fr Kevin Mowbray SM wrote recently to parishioners registering his disappointment at the current Level 2 situation.

"The Parish Leadership Team has considered what is necessary for St Mary of the Angels to open for private prayer and the Sacrament of Reconciliation."

"The health and safety requirements required by the Ministry of Health are complex and challenging', says Mowbray.

"Some parishioners would need to be involved in ensuring compliance with cleaning and sanitisation, contact tracing, managing the restriction of no more than 100 people in the building and keeping people at a safe distance from one another."

"This would be a very significant undertaking and is not something that we should ask of parishioners."

"Therefore, St Mary of the Angels must remain closed."

Sources

• Cathedral, St Marys, Our Lady of Lourdes parish
• St Francis of Assisi Parish, Ohairu
• Ministry of Health
• St Patrick's Cathedral Auckland
• St Mary of the Angels Wellington
• Catholic Church NZ Media releases
• Image: Cathedral, St Marys, Our Lady of Lourdes parish

They say the new normal is means the Church's liturgy remains restricted to protect the vulnerable and elderly.

The statement, creatively designed for Pentecost, parallels society's lockdown with the image of the apostles and Mary emerging from their pre-Pentecost "closed room."

The bishops say they share the joy of Catholics all over New Zealand at being able to celebrate Eucharist together, however, warn that at least for a while, the new normal means not everyone will be able to be accommodated at Sunday Mass and that each parish will have to determine how to celebrate Mass and ensure the health guidelines are kept.

They also say that due to the regulations some churches are likely to not reopen immediately.

"We share your joy at being able to celebrate Eucharist together. However, we still have to live under the restrictions that are there for the good of our vulnerable and elderly. Each parish is going to have to determine how it will offer Masses while ensuring health guidelines are kept. This may mean some churches will not open immediately. It may mean that there are more people wanting to attend Mass than can be accommodated" a part of the bishops' statement reads.

In the absence of Mass for over two months, the bishops acknowledge the creativity of New Zealanders.

"We have been delighted by the creative initiatives that have arisen and the way the risen Lord has used these to bestow his graces", they wrote.

However, further acknowledging the new normal will be different, the bishops addressed congregations throughout the country, asking anyone who is vulnerable to the virus, those who are afraid and anyone who is not well to stay at home.

The bishops' pastoral statement, acknowledges those who risked themselves while the rest of the country was locked-down.

"As we emerge from our "closed room" and return to our churches and community engagement we take this opportunity to thank those who protected and supported our sick, vulnerable and, indeed, all of us throughout the lockdown. We thank all those in our faith communities who have worked tirelessly to connect with parishioners offering spiritual support."

The bishops say the dispensation from attendance at Sunday Mass continues.

Sources

• Catholic Media

If pajamas have become the new workplace attire and the sofa has been transformed into the new desktop, where does that leave a U.S. Catholic Church yearning to stay connected with its parishioners through Zoom liturgies and Facebook Live spiritual pep talks pumped into living rooms by social media?

For Scot Landry, the Boston-based Catholic evangelist whose vocation as co-leader of Dynamic Catholic requires him to think in broad strokes, the church has a unique opportunity to step up to the challenges created by the coronavirus pandemic.

"I think the Catholic Church and every parish is going to be different because of the virus and how we've responded," said Landry, qualifying his answer because of the unknowns about how long it will take to find a vaccine or a therapeutic medicine to combat the virus.

But, "the parishes that have invested in technology and robust communication with their parishioners have done much better throughout the last eight weeks."

One of the major advances, Landry said, will be in the number of parishes who move forward with plans to offer online giving so that people can more easily "support the mission."

"Some of the parishes who have immensely struggled over the last eight weeks are the ones that relied almost exclusively on the weekly Sunday offertory," Landry told the Clarion Herald, New Orleans' archdiocesan newspaper.

"Liturgically, it's a very important part of our Mass to bring up the gifts, but it's far from ‘best' if our parishes are going to have consistent support from their parishioners."

Livestreamed Masses are here "forever," Landry said.

Each parish needs to figure out how it can distribute Communion to the homebound or those who choose to stay home.

"Most growing parishes, down the road, will continue to broadcast a lot of their liturgies and a lot of their events," he said. "It's an open question on how much parishes invest in that. Does it become a central part of their outreach or does it become just a part of their outreach?"

The massive changes in remote learning in schools also have ushered in a technological movement, Landry said.

It's going to accelerate the idea of the ‘flipped classroom,' where a lot of instruction happens on video. Then, when people gather with the teacher, it's more to ask questions," Landry said.

"The flipped classroom could be a great model for handing on our Catholic faith to people because many parishes have been challenged with (having enough) catechists."

Landry works with 61 parishes across 12 U.S. dioceses. One of the biggest questions he has had to grapple with is how fearful Catholics will be to return to Mass.

"Somewhere in the neighbourhood of 50% of our regular Mass attendees on Sunday will be cautious in returning or scared to come back," Landry said, including seniors and families with younger children.

"While there is a strong desire for the Eucharist, how will every faithful Catholic look at the idea of a crowded, packed church ever again? We used to look at the Christmas and Easter crowds, if we were able to get a seat, and say, ‘Isn't that wonderful how packed it is?'

"Think in terms of the multiple platforms — who is the best target audience for that platform and how the message could be shaped slightly differently to reach the people that read that platform?"

I do think people are going to look at a packed church now and say, ‘Do I really want to be in a packed church?'"

With most dioceses across the U.S. "dispensing" Catholics from their obligation to attend Sunday Mass, Landry said parishioners may begin choosing to attend weekday Masses, when the churches will be less crowded.

The most important thing a diocese — or a parish — can do right now for parishioners is to "over-communicate," Landry said.

"It's to speak from the heart about the care for everybody individually and the care for the community when it regathers and that we want to be safe," Landry said.

"Then each parish needs to figure out how it can distribute Communion to the homebound or those who choose to stay home during this time in much larger numbers than most parishes have ever been asked to do. That would allow people to still participate in Mass and satisfy that hunger for the Eucharist."

Communication is key, Landry said, because not all age or demographic groups are reached through the same methods of communication. Continue reading

What is the Earth telling us?

I haven't the faintest idea. But I do sense the whisper of the Divine Presence with this pandemic.

Some of us are being called back home to the love from which we came. The rest of us have a compulsory retreat in which we need to come home to ourselves.

We are all being called to be real.

Physically and financially, this retreat is sometimes challenging. Spiritually, socially, it is full of gift.

The first thing we noticed in lock-down, was that the pressure was off. Suddenly life was about being instead of doing. We couldn't even make short term plans.

The lack of pressure took some getting used to. Lock-down had brought a new kind of freedom. We couldn't quite name it. But we look in the mirror, smile and say, "Hello friend! Nice to know you!"

Suddenly, our external environment was peaceful. No rushing traffic, no exhaust fumes! No clatter, whine or roar of progress! Just bird song and the laughter of children next door.

Out walking, I can taste the air as I inhale it. It offers a full diet of wet moss, fallen leaves, lavender flowers, acorns, all of it untainted by carbon emissions.

The loveliest gift - one with an element of surprise - is how close people have become in separation. A trip to the supermarket is like a family reunion in a car park, voices calling from different points of the compass.

Then there are the phone calls, emails, social networks online. Everywhere there seems to be a positive, pulsing network of connection.

We turn on the TV. Here too, the atmosphere has cleared. The news is full of heart matters. We hear positive information, empathy, sympathy, hope and more hope.

What happened to the war stories? Where is the usual division, scandal and gossip that passes for news?

Gone, it seems.

Has Covid-19 united the world?

All this takes us deeper on our enforced retreat.

We know that every light has a shadow. So does every shadow have a light?

We saw the light that flooded this country after the terrible darkness of the Christchurch massacre.

So what spiritual healing will come in the wake of this pandemic? How will we grow as individuals and a country?

Again, I don't know. I only know that it will happen and we will have a new "normal."

We pray that this change will be global.

• Joy Cowley is a wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and retreat facilitator.