The Church Goes Online

Looking back, I remember that there was a disturbing atmosphere over my church in Queens, New York.

In London, I had heard the news that the lights on Broadway went out at 5 pm on Thursday, March 12^th because of concerns about the coronavirus.  Governor Andrew Cuomo and Mayor Bill de Blasio banned gatherings of more than 500 people. There was a growing sense of meltdown. Businesses were urgently planning remote work.

Although I was studying philosophy at a university in London, my home ties were back in Forest Hills, Queens. In fact, I had been working a few hours each week on the website and communications for the church back home.

The New York state leaders were trying to reassure the public and still expressed confidence that at least the virus wouldn’t affect children much. But the local public school P.S. 101 where my parent’s church met closed down on the weekend for an anti-viral cleansing.

The congregation of Ascension Presbyterian Church was going to have to meet online for church service, something that the church was not experienced in doing. I volunteered to help.

On Sunday, March 15^th, the theaters in London too were closing down, although the churches were still open.  

So, I went to church in London and rushed back to aid my New York church to get ready for its online service. Then, I started to experience from afar the tremendous disruptions that were beginning to take place in my home town. Little did I know how much Queens would become like a war zone.

The elders gathered at my parents’ home on Sunday morning to film a bit of a liturgy and a sermon. There was no music because there was no one available to do it. I quickly rushed from church onto my laptop to post the livestream link on the Queens church website.

Then, our third-party host quickly failed due to the increased usage from churches across the country, so we switched to Facebook Live just a few minutes before the service began. I revised the details on the website and returned to my London life, which was also beginning to unravel just a little bit behind New York.

At lunch, we said goodbye to a South African friend who was fleeing the country with just a moment’s notice. Flights were getting hard to come by. I didn’t realize that I would repeat the picture only a few days later, except I would be running pell-mell into the storm over New York City.

On Wednesday March 18^th, I arrived at JFK International Airport. The weather was mildly cool and clear, but one started to move without noticing the weather. Tension was growing with excitement of being home. I went straight to quarantine in my room at our home for 14 days. I hadn’t seen my parents in months and now, I could only see them through FaceTime! Food was dropped off at my door.

At home, I noticed that the couch cushions seemed to be everywhere spread across the floor. Like leaves in a disarrayed pile, duct tape, markers, and pens galore lay scattered on the coffee table.  One place a sense of order intruded with the presence of folded laundry, then you would come across green foam palm trees with Easter eggs laying around and a tangled forest of dark gray cables bracing the path from the living room into the dining room. But the dining room table had been pushed to the side to become a prop table for the online broadcasts and a tripod took the central place that used to be the possession of the dining table. My mother usually keeps the house immaculate for guests, but then there hadn’t been guests for weeks.

“It looks like a warzone,” said my dad Michael Kytka, who was also the pastor of our church, in  a voice somewhere between a stress-cry and a laugh. On Sunday, March 22, the churches in London also closed their doors

On that Sunday, we had scheduled a Messianic Rabbi who would give his yearly talk at our church on Christ in the Passover. But early that morning, we learned that he had to shelter in place in New Jersey. So, the Rabbi live streamed his talk to us from his home in New Jersey, and there was very little for us to do on our end.

Still in quarantine, I facetimed my father and suggested that since all of our leaders and music team could not livestream together, we should shift to a pre-recorded video. From my bedroom, I tossed out instructions to both my parents! As a childhood enthusiast of video, I now directed on how to position their phones to increase the quality of the video.

Nevertheless, that Sunday was extremely difficult. As a team, we had a poor understanding of how long Facebook would take to upload our video, and Sunday morning service ended up as Sunday night service.

My Mom was starring in “Ms. Roseann’s Sunday School” for kids. It had a rocky takeoff, but it was enjoyed by the kids. From the quarters of quarantine, I mixed together some 90’s era music and tv show transitions, a throwback that seemed reassuring and matched our rough and ready production.

When I finally came down to join the family for the first time on April 2^nd, it was a relief to get out of the 14 day period of self-isolation. Now, I was confined to a bigger prison of a house and the physical reality of a church without a home or the ability to meet face-to-face. Could our first floor become a window to fellowship and spiritual oneness?

Downstairs became the center of our operation. Equipment from my childhood passion for filmmaking came in handy for 2020 and was strewn across the couch.

Kids’ crafts for Easter were ordered early, packaged, bagged and piled up ready for delivery. A stuffed donkey with a cardboard Jesus hung out on the door ready to make their YouTube premieres. My mom’s blow-up air mattress was stuffed in a corner of the room so that she slept as far away from me as possible during the quarantine. My Dad’s sermon notes were piling up on a tray table.  Where would we eat?, I wondered. The dining room table was pushed aside and ladened with this and that for the video and children’s show.

At least there was no more need to throw out video advice like a yodeler from my quarantine room. Now, things began to run smoother. On Thursday, April 2^nd,  we held our first prayer meeting online. We were still trying to let people know how to join and mastering our mute button for the people who weren’t speaking. Every little step forward gave us some pleasure. In a pandemic, it doesn’t take much to cheer up.

For Palm Sunday on April 12th, everything ran on schedule, including our Online Sunday School! We have gotten the hang of filming and editing in a segmented children’s TV show style. On the morning of the video premiere of “Jesus Enters Jerusalem,” my mother and I drove around the neighborhood to deliver curriculum and kids crafts to our regular attenders of the kids’ service.

There are still struggles that are acerbated by the plague conditions. How do you help a congregational member who needs to enter quarantine but has lost a homes. Nurses and physician assistants stagger in from the frontline, and we have heard stories of Asian Americans getting the bad end of panic and prejudice. We are still figuring out ways to overflow the tiny pipeline of compassion through online religion. Some problems just cries for more words and hugs.

We are also concerned about the many small churches who don’t have any experience and few capabilities yet of bringing their congregations together online.  Blessedly between us, we can do essential things: Dad preaches, Mom teaches and acts endearingly with the kids, and I can film music.

We are still dealing with access issues and face the dilemma of people who don’t have media accounts. Some older people are becoming more isolated beause they don’t feel comfortable with online platforms.

One problem is that we can’t tell if we are reaching everyone. We don’t have a real idea of our attendance, because view counts don’t tell you how many people are watching from the same device.

My dad has had to get used to preaching into a camera with a level of polish and economy that isn’t usually required in a normal worship service where the idiosycracies give character and personality.

The whole thing feels stressful and unnecessary too, like we aren’t doing enough at this time of crisis. But then I see the comments that are coming in:

  “It lifts us up;”

“This video made us very encouraged;” and

“Thank you for keeping religion alive, especially at this terrible time.”

The Virus War has changed every way in which we normally operate. But a small church in the middle of the epicenter of the most major battle in Central Queens maybe can turn the tide for some people.  This thought lifts us up.

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Ascension Church is a faith community in Central Queens planted through Redeemer City-to-City in 2006 by Pastor Michael Kytka, a New York native with a Masters of Divinity from Covenant Seminary.  His wife Roseann Kytka, a teacher in the New York City Department of Education for over 20 years is the Director of Childhood Education and their daughter is Alexandra Kytka, a university student studying Philosophy at King’s College London and the co-creator of the podcast “Religious War” which answers questions about faith, culture, and denominational dispute (religiouswarpodcast.com).