For the fervently religious, the coronavirus epidemic has presented something of an existential crisis. Physically meeting in congregations is one of the defining features of most religious practices. As Jason Wilson writes in The Guardian, leaders on the Christian right in the US have been steeped in denial over the crisis, telling their followers that the virus is a hoax, that LGBTQ people might be to blame, and even being arrested for flouting laws on social distancing. (Although the hilarious news that American televangelist Pat Robertson blamed oral sex for the virus turned out to have been a hoax.)
If there was one thing that didn't seem to slow the fatal spread of the virus, which has now claimed more than 89,000 lives worldwide, it was Donald Trump's decision to declare March 15 as a National Day of Prayer. On March 14, the number of coronavirus victims in the US was 2,825. After the National Day of Prayer they had risen to 3,501. By March 23 there were 42,751 cases. Religion, it seems, has no power against the tsunami of the virus.
Or does it? Just over a week ago, Texas pastor Kenneth Copeland confidently claimed to have banished the virus during a typically boisterous sermon: “I demand, I demand, I demand a vaccination to come IMMEDIATELY!” “Yes!” said his right-hand man, both of them squeezing their eyes shut. Copeland continued his tirade against COVID-19: “I call you done! You come down from your place of authority, destroyer! You come down and you crawl on your belly like God commanded you when he put his foot on your head in the Garden of Eden.” By the end, Copeland claimed to have put the virus to bed entirely – “at exactly twelve noon on the 29th day of March”.
Copeland's bizarre confidence shouldn't, however, be construed as representative. In this piece for BuzzFeed News, Joseph Bernstein describes how religious leaders have struggled with the new reality – feeling tentative about asking for donations online, for example, or worrying that the lack of physical proximity means that effective spiritual counselling is impossible. For years churches have offered online versions of their pronouncements but, for the many who don't necessarily know how to dial in to Zoom or log into a livestream, the web may feel like a poor substitute. Holy Communion, Christian authorities have said, cannot be given over the web.
Many believers, of course, have simply ignored warnings about mass gatherings. The New York Times reported that in Brooklyn, some Hasidic Jews went ahead with large weddings and experienced a spike in cases; in Iran, two pilgrims licked shrines in order to stay healthy (they were later arrested); and a Buddhist monk in Manymar was claiming that immunity could be achieved simply by consuming one lime and three palm seeds.
There are believers who are saying that the coronavirus is some sort of message from above. An evangelical group found that 44% of likely American voters see it as either a wake-up call to faith or a sign of God’s impending judgment. Normally, in times of crisis, congregations swell. The current pandemic may be an exception. When the lockdowns are over, just as there may be fewer businesses, there may also be fewer churches.
