In my world of religious professionals, an article in the New York Times last week unleashed a torrent of attention. Most of it, I’m happy to say, was a refutation of the opinion expressed.

Titled, Why Churches Should Drop Their Online Services, the writer argued that church should be an embodied experience, where we can hear babies cry and see the red eyes of the person weeping next to us, and that continuing to offer an online option makes church attendance simply a preference, “like whether or not you buy hardwood floors, than a necessity, like whether or not you have shelter.”

Like I said, I am happy to say that a torrent of articles followed, rightly calling out the author for her ableism and narrow way of looking at church.

Last Sunday, I talked about “collective effervescence.” Being together in person when we can be is important. I can’t wait until we are together again — outdoors or in the sanctuary — making eye contact, hugging, breaking bread together in one of our wonderful potlucks. There is an energy that flows among us when we are physically together singing “Blue Boat Home,” or having a meeting not broken up by “you’re on mute, Gladys.”

But to restrict our services to only who can be there in person? That’s cruel and cold.

When I was spending most of my Sundays in a hospital with a loved one, Sunday mornings were the worst. It was before anyone was livestreaming services, and all of a sudden, my Facebook feed went silent. It was the time in my life when I most needed to connect with our faith, and with other people … but there was nothing there.

Now, members who are sick, or their car broke down, or they’re on vacation but missing church, or they have a fractious toddler … they can all open up their tv, computer, or phone, and there we are. There is church.

I will be happy when online church is just one option, not the only way we can gather. I can’t wait. But I’m also so happy we have a way to stay connected, no matter what’s happening.