The coronavirus pandemic of 2019 sent churches, big and small, on a massive online migration. The lockdowns of the pandemic season and the implementation of strict physical distancing measures effectively locked-up the sanctuaries of different faith communities in many nations. For a couple of years or so, it seemed like the age of the digital church had finally arrived. But is that the case?
Churches of all stripes, the traditional and the trendy, were confronted with a pressing decision to reimagine how to celebrate our faith, stripping it back to its barest essentials, and then looked to digital technology as the most viable life-support option. For some, the online migration felt more like a forced evacuation.
What followed were refrains of an unhappy exile and a chorus of lament for being sent to what felt like a Babylonian captivity, to ‘digital technology.’ Pastors were left with very little choice but to figure out how to conduct live streams and Zoom meetings, virtual gatherings that, at the very least, provided for a semblance of normalcy. Taking comfort in the words of an ancient prophet, social networking platforms became temporary shelters where God’s people had to “settle down,” to thrive and to survive (Jeremiah 29:5).
It was fascinating to see how digital ministry quickly turned into a matter of survival whereas, for so long, it was considered supplemental at best or just an optional add-on. Since Walter Wilson’s book "The Internet Church" was released in 2004, the viability of launching ministries into the realm of the non-physical has been the subject of much debate.
While there have been churches, here and there, that utilized technology to extend the frontiers of their ministry offerings, not so many were willing to consider this as the Body of Christ incarnating fully in the digital sphere. With digital technology as the only option left during the pandemic, churches with the means quickly embraced the radical shift, overcoming previous reluctance. To paraphrase the old proverb, desperation became the mother of innovation.
But catapulting the church into the digital sphere like this opened up a Pandora’s Box of questions, concerns, and fears. Can spiritual rituals really be done digitally and still retain their aura of sacrality? If so, which ones? Can grace be communicated via Wi-Fi? Aren’t God’s people being reduced to consumers of spiritual goodies now competing with each other via social and virtual media? But the fundamental issue that lies of the heart of such concerns is this question: What exactly is real in the virtual experience?
A lot of the perplexities surrounding this question are rooted in a confusion of what the word ‘virtual’ means. Many people understand it in the sense of being not real (or almost real but still not quite). Seeing faces on screen, no matter how fun, still falls short of the glorious capacity to put arms around someone, hear voices singing or praying next to us, or share the same air in a closed room.
Oftentimes, the comparison has to do with the digital not being an actual experience of being with each other. And so, the idea that the digital church is more of a pseudo-fellowship at best floats like a sword of Damocles, a privilege but with accompanying risks. Others have reduced the issue to adopting a form of hi-tech Gnosticism. That is, churches who congregate via Zoom are little more than a form of disembodied knowledge seekers.
While the above understanding of the virtual has gone popular, the technical definition of the word tells another story. I have been long convinced that the virtual is an experience of reality mediated by technology. Digital extensions of ourselves reaching out to others in bytes and pixels. Arguments can be made that this is no different to how Apostle Paul himself pioneered a form of virtual presence by circulating ‘epistles’ across the Mediterranean. Only that he relied on ink and parchments instead of WiFi and WhatsApp.
While the concern for a disembodied experience, made possible by digital technology in the present, continues to arise every once in a while, recent developments in digital communications has actually been putting premium on tactile interfaces where clicks, swipes, and pinches have become even more pronounced. With the arrival of Augmented Reality (AR) and Virtual Reality (VR), bodily integration (wearable technology), is set to soon bring digital embodiment to another level.
If we interpret virtuality in this way, being together via Zoom can be no less personal than meeting face-to-face. For some people, it enhances connection by providing a way of becoming intimately connected without the concerns and limitations usually brought about by physical proximity.
Studies in new media and communication show that such digital interactions allow for connections that would not be otherwise possible ‘in-person.’ This is especially true among those who better express themselves via mediated forms of interaction. In my own experience of doing Zoom Bible studies, particularly during the pandemic season, resulted in very lively discussions and, to some extent, even more engaging than in person. So, while the virtual does use a form of technology as a medium of communication, it renders the experience and impact no less real.
A crux of the matter seems to be whether or not the virtual experience of togetherness can be regarded as genuine. Note that it is just as possible for a person to be physically present and yet remain mentally absent. The issue here appears to be not one of proximity but of authenticity. That is, did you receive full and undivided attention and were you able to return the favor? That is the question that spells the difference between really being together and not actually being together. For churches who have gone digital, this is a fundamental question as well.
While there will always be something more, something 'tangible', that can be gained from gathering in-person, there is also something gained in the virtual that is not provided for by physical meetings. If comparing the two, perhaps, we would do well to realize that one is not necessarily truer than the other. Just two different kinds of being together.
To conclude, it still remains to be seen if the digital medium will prove to be a vital and therefore permanent part of the new-normal for the post-pandemic church. This is an issue that will depend largely on whether church leaders look upon the mass migration of people online during the pandemic season as a necessary but temporary exile or a more permanent relocation like the exodus that brought a deliverance to God’s people.
Has the whole experience of going digital ushered in an Easter moment of sorts that has paved the way for digital churches to rise gloriously with a new identity? Maybe not, but perhaps it will be a midway reality, with the ‘hybrid church’ I have written about previously as an example of the more permanent ecclesiological transformation.
Originally published on Rei Lemuel Crizaldo's blog, half-meant. Republished with permission.
Rei Lemuel Crizaldo is the Coordinator of the World Evangelical Alliance Theological Commission, a member of the Younger Leader Generation (YLG) of the Lausanne Movement, advocacy coordinator for Micah Global’s national expression in the Philippines, and a regional coordinator for Tearfund’s theology network in East and Southeast Asia. He is a thinker, communicator, and teacher, whose writing and active online engagement brings together people reflecting on contextual theology, holistic ministry, and the impact of digitality.
The views expressed in this or any other opinion article do not necessarily reflect the views of Christian Daily International.
