PROVIDENCE – It is s a rare day when newspapers are not reporting on some religious leader’s clamoring for a house of worship to be re-opened for services. These clergy resent the intrusion of the coronavirus that months ago forced congregations to avoid religious gatherings as contagion threatened every house of whatever Lord you worship.

All this noise [and even angry threats from some] confuses me: I was taught [and still believe] God is everywhere.

Though not a churchgoer, I still have conversations with my God and I see His responses in daily scenes that are proof enough for me that He exists for those who wish to approach Him.

I saw Him outside the market just the other day disguised as a young teenager watching over his baby sister in a carriage as they both waited for their mother. She was inside the store trying to get some needed supplies for her family at a time when even grocery shopping can be life challenging.

The teen-man wore a mandated mask but was still able to make comforting sounds that the baby in the carriage responded to with gurgles of delight. When the mother exited the automatic doors of the market, she quickly checked her infant and then gratefully tussled the hair of the young sitter-guardian before planting a kiss of pride on his cheek. God hovered over this scene of love protecting infantile vulnerability, illuminated by a mother’s appreciation wrapped in relief and love.

Divine overtones
God is standing behind the homeless man who routinely begs on an intersection near my home. I hand the man a bag containing a sandwich and coffee: his thanks and the smile with which he delivers it surely have divine overtones.

Raised in a “God is everywhere” ethic, I am confused by clergy blind to His presence, demanding worshipers risk their lives to stand elbow to elbow, singing hymns, shaking hands at a “sign of peace,” or praying kaddish aloud for their dead while elevating the death threat in God’s house where – medical experts warned – proximity is deadly.

My complicated relationship with religion may be unique to my personal experience, but I still know God when I see Him – in the eyes of masked ER staff risking their lives to care for critically ill patients and, when medicine fails, comforting grieving loved ones.

God routinely drives fire trucks and rescue wagons to save the rest of us from the perils of this plague we are all battling. He speaks in the voices of digital educators on computer screens teaching homebound children, in the patient whispers of parents in lockdown reassuring their little ones, and in the selfless assurances of those with bedridden elders they bathe, feed, comfort and entertain in these times threatening everyone’s serenity.

No impatience
I don’t see God tapping his foot in impatience, waiting for the doors of churches, temples, and mosques to reopen. He doesn’t raise his voice or lose sleep over the empty collection baskets not being passed. He’s too busy being everywhere in case he is needed.

In fact I thought I saw him just a minute ago outside my kitchen window, helping to lift a patient into an ambulance that would speed toward the local hospital.

So I said a short prayer for the people in that ambulance, just as the rain was stopping and a late afternoon sun – peeking from behind a cloud –provided a silent, “Amen.”

Mary Ann Sorrentino is an occasional contributor to ConvergenceRI.