Never since the Second World War has the Easter weekend been no direly distressing. Last week, churches, temples, mosques and synagogues across the world reaffirmed that the coronavirus pandemic has been a collective disaster, cutting across religions.

The shrines are a “source of comfort and orientation” in the face of the worst catastrophe in centuries. Over Good Friday and Easter, however, churches were unable to provide a space of refuge for solace in the midst of overwhelming gloom and doom.

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For all the profundity and solemnity of the occasion, it isn’t the same to conduct the Mass online and to be watched on YouTube. But there was no option for the Bishops. It was inevitable that social distance would be accorded precedence over faith, even if it militated against human bonding.

With the pews empty, it was an Easter weekend like no other, both for regular churchgoers and for those who, in uniquely challenging times, might have been tempted to pay a visit. Kolkata’s majestic St Paul’s Cathedral, for one, stood in unsplendid isolation.

YouTube is scarcely a substitute for personal presence. Small wonder traditionalists have averred that the timing of the lockdown has been cruel for the three main Abrahamic religions. Easter is preceded by the Jewish Passover and followed by Ramadan.

Collective commemoration, reflection and celebration are at the very core of these great religious festivals. But for Jews this week, the traditional gathering of extended families for the Seder meal (marking the ancient Hebrews’ liberation from slavery in Egypt) could only take place via Zoom and Skype.

Easter was bereft of the joys and consolation that emanate from communal participation. Reports from around the world suggest that guest lists for church weddings and baptisms have been binned. Funerals have become heartbreaking and lonely affairs, with mourners limited, at best, to immediate family members.

The ritual washing of the body before Islamic and Jewish burials has been jeopardised and complicated by fear of infection and limited access to personal protective equipment. The deepest tragedy, therefore, is that a medical emergency has impinged on faith.

Religious observance is a habit as well as an affirmation of faith; habits, once interrupted, are sometimes hard to resume. Given the work done by people of faith in helping the homeless, running food banks and channeling vital aid overseas, it is fervently to be hoped that such fears are groundless.

A study has found that as the pandemic spread last month, Google searches for the word “prayer” boomed across 75 countries, dwarfing anything previously seen in data going back to 2004. In Britain, online streaming of services from churches has generated virtual congregations far larger than the numbers of those previously attending in person. A similar pattern has been observed in Jewish synagogues. Mercifully, isolation has not led to spiritual apathy.