Pentecost, 2021

The altar, the priest's vestments, and the worshippers' clothes were red, symbolic of the tongues of fire that visited the Apostles two millennia ago. It seemed like a normal Pentecost, although it was anything but.

Across the Bay Area Episcopal churches had their first in-person service in 14 months.

Masks were required of everyone, and communion was limited to the host (bread).

I'm not entirely sure why music was restricted to pre-recorded songs with no singing (extraneous exhalation?) while voicing the Creed and prayers was permitted. Nevertheless, everyone was happy to go along.

I didn't get pledge envelopes for this year.
Last year's, unused, will do just as well.

There was no coffee hour per se, but most parishioners lingered outdoors, catching up with each other in the sunshine.

There was some confusion and hesitancy at various points, but live worship will get better, judging by the improvement from the first streaming services that started a year ago. See you next week, said the priest. Amen to that.