I’ve been helping as a volunteer in my local church,
Apostel-Paulus-Kirche in Schoeneberg, Berlin during the pandemic. Occasional
three-hour shifts, in the team keeping the church open every day for people to
light a candle or find a quiet moment.
The experience has helped me too. I look forward to the
chance to sit quietly, to reflect, to have more time than during regular
services to appreciate the beautiful architecture and stained-glass windows. And
I feel useful and involved in my community.
My shifts, every two weeks, help mark the passing of
pandemic time. In the first days of April the church was the only local space open
to the public. People came in their dozens, relishing this modest but valuable
freedom. Some stayed a few minutes, others much longer.
In May one visitor sang, rather beautifully. Another cried,
and told me he had been moved by the experience of being in church for the
first time in 35 years. At Himmelfahrt, one of the clergy installed an art show
about heaven , letting long, white bands of paper cascade from the high ceiling.
An unusual constant throughout: the table of laptops and
mixing decks near the alter, the hardware behind the streamed services I
watched at home.
Approaching the church for my most recent shift, in late
June, I found the priest sweeping the steps at the entrance. Summer weather,
and the end of the lockdown, has turned the grassy space in front of the church
into a hangout for young people. Its uplifting to see the area come to life again
(the beer bottles and cigarette butts, less so). I took the broom and finished sweeping.