Making It Work for the Smaller Church, Part 3: Sign Ups

Posted on September 16, 2024 by smaxreisert

Depending on the context, it can be a controversial topic: the alteration of the typical line-up of boards and committees for the average congregationally-inclined local congregation. For those churches whose identities are deeply tied to the active participation of those who comprise the congregation (by regular worship attendance and/or by joining through an official ritual of some kind), it can be a tricky thing to talk about substantial change, especially if the number of boards and committees is set to be cut significantly and still more, if the proposal includes the re-labeling of beloved posts/positions.

One of the most important considerations when a congregation is looking to redefine and “right-size” its governance structure is to take stock of the culture of the church— How have the boards/committees functioned? Are there clear expectations for some, or all, of the boards and committees? Are there some boards/committees that garner more respect than others? Are some boards/committees harder to fill than others? Is so, why?

When Old South went through the process to change its governance structure (a decade ago), we had a variety of issues to ponder. Our diminishing worshiping community was only one consideration on the list. The culture of the church, in terms of how the boards and committees functioned, was a critical issue. For instance, a couple of the boards/committees were so clearly defined that we had people who considered themselves drawn to only one and not any others. We had some people who had served for years on the Board of Trustees, but never on the Board of Deacons, and vice versa, and would never even remotely consider giving a different group a try. And, hardly anyone was enthusiastic about attending the monthly gathering of the chairs of the various boards/committees.

In order to help people perceive service to the church in a different way, we pushed aside the normal list of labels, including deacon (and the Board of Deacons). Eliminating the “deacon” role was difficult, as the word appears in the New Testament in a number of places and churches, like Old South, generally like to feel a sense of connection to the ancient church, even if it’s just a small one. For Old South, the word “deacon” had become problematic. There were certain “jobs” that belonged so completely to the deacons that somehow one had to be a deacon in order to do any of those assignments, like turn on the lights and sound system on Sunday mornings, greet people at the door as they arrived for worship, help to set up and serve communion on communion Sundays. It didn’t feel like any of those tasks demanded that someone be a member of what amounted to a special club in order to perform them. Plus, we had a few people who drove a bit of a distance to attend worship regularly. Some of those people were eager to get involved, especially with the Board of Deacons, but they didn’t want to be forced to drive a half hour (each way) to attend a monthly meeting just so they could turn on lights, greet people at the door, or serve communion.

It was a big step to eliminate the Board of Deacons, along with the other boards and committees, but it wasn’t nearly as painful as I thought it would be. Once I shared my thinking, it was interesting to see that people could understand what I saw as the issues. Through that process, we could begin to envision, together, something new.

We now have one governance group (called the Oversight Committee, along with a couple of ministry teams) and a welcoming of all into participation in our worshiping life. We have an open sign up process, online and on a piece of paper that is posted in the church vestry. On that sign up, there are slots for: greeter (in person and online), psalm reader, call to worship/invocation leader, worship assistant (the one who turns the lights and sound system on, and then off at the end of worship, makes sure the doors are unlocked, the hymn numbers are posted, etc. and the person who sets up and helps serve communion on communion Sundays), and tech assistant. For special Sundays, there are additional slots and other opportunities.

Most of the time, there’s enough activity around the sign up process that most slots get filled. Occasionally, there are times when we need to provide a little extra encouragement and there are even a few, but rare, times when the administrative assistant needs to get on the phone to fill slots (or leave them empty).

One of the most intriguing, and thrilling, aspects of how we do what we do now is in the process of inviting new people, or encouraging old timers to try something new. A whole culture has now developed around encouragement and assistance.

Earlier this summer, a person who’s been attending Old South for a relatively short period of time, expressed interest in setting up and serving communion. There were several people eager to show her the process. I was able to stay completely out of it. At the end of that worship service, the woman went right to the sign up and signed up for the same slot for the following month. After the next month, she went up to the sign up to fill in that slot once again to set up and serve communion. This time, though, that slot was already filled. So, she talked to the person who had signed up and got the other person to take a different slot.

It’s a remarkable experience to see this happen. We don’t need the word “deacon” to understand that there is service, on a variety of levels, going on. I remember way back when I was in confirmation class (probably around the age of fifteen), the pastor came to a class to teach us about the sacraments, to help us understand that, especially through the sacrament of communion, we actively practice our faith– ministering to each other, allowing others to minister to us, treating each other as we wish to be treated, welcoming the friend and the stranger, creating and observing space for an experience of the sacred, etc. That’s what’s happening at Old South. It’s not that this approach to communion was missing when we had a Board of Deacons, but that the practice of the church had become so rigid as to interfere with that space that actively appreciates the presence of the Divine.

In the decade since we substantially altered our governance structure, no one has asked that we return to the old way, to how we “used to do things.” We may be smaller in number, but we have actually grown when it comes to being better attuned to the movement of the Spirit in our midst. As a community of faith, we are more aware of what it means to be a living community of faith now and in these days, rather than a tribute to what was done in the past.

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Making It Work for the Smaller Church, Part 2: Committees

Posted on August 31, 2024 by smaxreisert

I have this scene that plays like an old-fashioned film strip in my head. It’s the early 1950s. The leadership of a Mainline Protestant church somewhere in an ordinary suburban setting has gathered to deal with a new problem: so many people; so many families. Churches that dotted the main square of many an American town found themselves at the time with a burgeoning membership. Post-WW 2 created renewed vigor in communities and community institutions, like churches. Individuals and families were eager to participate, to be a part of institutions that were perceived to strengthen individuals and thereby, communities in general.

In my imaginary film strip, black and white and little grainy, there is that group of church leaders, trying to figure out what to do with all of the new people, all of the new interest. I can almost hear one of them saying out loud something along the lines of, “It doesn’t feel right to have people just come to worship on Sunday mornings. That’s simply doesn’t allow adequate participation. How will they feel a sense of belonging?” They consider. They brainstorm. Finally, one of them utters, breathlessly and excitedly, “What about . . . . committees!”

For many local Mainline Protestant churches that grew by leaps and bounds in the 1950s and 1960s, that little film strip in my head imagines a flourishing of committees, and other church-associated groups. In addition to a Board of Deacons and a Board of Trustees (and a church Council). the great new ideas for committees and groups probably included things like Christian education, youth, missions and outreach, women’s activities, flowers/beautification, etc, etc.

The line-up of slots likely grew to more than a page or two, and created another sort of committee— the nominations committee—to fill all of those slots year after year.

Then all of those committees became so embedded in the life of the church that they sort of became the church, as if without them, the church would lose its identity, its sense of mission, its connection to the holy. It’s as if Jesus said, “And, above all, the most important thing for my followers, is to go out and be on a committee! And, when a committee is full, create a new one! Until the whole world is populated by people on committees! What a wondrous and God-like thing that would be!”

As local Mainline Protestant churches have declined (the process starting not long after they grew), one of the most difficult aspects for congregations of those who were/are left has been committees— all of those slots to fill with fewer people; prioritizing certain committees over others; hounding people, especially poor newcomers, to join a committee, or two, or three; reflecting on the meaning and purpose of at least some of the committees; wondering if it’s okay to have fewer of them, to consolidate or even completely re-imagine how to get church work done.

When Old South went through its major restructuring, a decade ago, we reduced our long list of committees to one single voting/governing/action committee, along with ministry teams. It wasn’t an easy process, but most people were ready for a change. It was so painful, year after year, to turn to the same list of committees and boards and wonder how it was going to be filled out with names instead of empty lines. When I proposed that we not only reduce, but seriously reduce the number of committees and, at the same time, reconsider what we do and why, a series of very interesting discussions ensued. It was fascinating to listen to the variety of responses and perspectives. For a few people, reducing the number of committees seemed like a betrayal of those who had gone before. For a couple of others, a reduction meant that we were “giving up,” when we should instead be waiting and watching for that magical day when people started streaming back into churches.

In the end, we made the big switch. While the new structure hasn’t solved all of our issues with committees and boards (the one governing board sometimes gets so focused on physical plant issues that it can feel like we just kept the Board of Trustees and got rid of everything else), we are now much more “right-sized,” and there’s a much clearer sense that we are not just a community of people completely driven by what’s worked in the past. People who are part of Old South are encouraged to find ways of participating in our life and ministry together, without also having to get signed up to attend monthly meetings.

One of the most significant developments and realities of how we gather together is that there’s much more openness to participation, an encouragement to share gifts and talents and to explore new gifts. This isn’t to say that we always encounter a great eagerness to be involved. There are some Sundays, and some tasks, that offer a bit of challenge. And, it can be daunting to find ways for new people to get involved when there’s no neat set of committee slots. Instead, we have learned to interact with people, to encourage involvement in ways that seem to connect with their interests, while also providing paths for people to help us learn more about them and their interests.

There are plenty of things that must get done in the local church. For Congregationalists, it’s important that we share those duties— from various worship-related functions (greeting, helping to turn on lights, serving communion, reading the weekly psalm, etc.) to ministry teams that provide space for problem solving, guidance and creativity (worship and mission/outreach) to various maintenance projects outside the realm of the sexton. To deal with all of these, Old South has the Sign Up, an open sign up process (online and in paper form for Sunday mornings). I’ll address that subject next time.

When it comes to committees, it’s been profoundly important for our small community to engage with what works now, to find release from the dictates and expectations of the past (especially a past that was actually a short blip, rather than an epic era), and to be open to the movement of the Holy Spirit that guides us in being a community of faith, rather than a museum of what used to be.

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Making It Work for the Smaller Church, Part 1: Worship

Posted on August 13, 2024 by smaxreisert

Over the years, Old South Church in Hallowell, Maine has made many adjustments— to how we gather, how we organize ourselves, how we get important jobs done, how we worship together, etc. Many of the changes have been dictated by our shrinking numbers. But, the changes also reflect a congregation not only willing to engage in change, but to do so in a manner that is centered on a thoughtful assessment of how the Spirit is at work in our midst. I’ve reminded the congregation at Old South more times than they would like to count that, while numbers hold some significance to our gathering, numbers don’t mean anything when it comes to our connection to the Holy. The Bible doesn’t say anything about faith communities needing to be a particular size, as long as there are at least two or three (Matthew 18:20). What matters is the practice of the faith, and the encouragement and continual formation found within a gathering of people who feel compelled to follow Christ.

I have been asked on many occasions how we do what we do, and how we have adjusted, especially around our shrinking numbers (an all too common aspect of being a moderate/liberal/progressive Protestant church in these days). I’ve spoken to people. I’ve met with people. I’ve forwarded our bylaws. I’ve written long emails. I’ve even helped to lead a workshop at our Conference’s annual meeting. Now, it’s time to make this information more widely, and more freely, available. Today, I’ll cover worship issues, especially around how worship is led when I’m away.

I hope that this information will be helpful to you and your church.

Maybe a decade, or so, ago, Old South’s Treasurer suggested to the governing body of the church that among the budget lines that she thought ought to be cut or trimmed significantly was the line that covered supply pastors, the hiring of clergy to lead worship on the Sundays when I’m away on vacation. At first, I got a little nervous. What could she possibly mean? What would happen to my vacation time and Sundays off (as a three-quarter time pastor, I have four weeks, including Sundays, of vacation time plus two additional Sundays)?

She was quick to assure me that she had no intention of interfering with my vacation time. She wondered if the congregation could cover most, if not all, of those “pulpit supply” Sundays internally. At the time, we had one or two retired clergy who were regularly part of our congregation. Maybe they would be willing to lead for little or no compensation? It turned out that they were willing. But, after a couple of years, they moved away, with no other retired clergy taking their place. Our attention turned to everyone else in the Old South community. How could we inspire regular church members to lead worship?

We now have four basic models for worship leadership for the six Sundays I have off each year.

The first model is essentially our regular worship service, with one layperson leading the entire worship service. While this model is now rarely used at Old South, we have had a couple of people who, given enough time for preparation, have been willing to lead as a supply pastor.

The second model is very similar to the first. In this case, though, we have two (or three) people working together to lead worship, with the normal format of an Old South worship service. This has been very successful. There’s a real sense of empowerment when a pair (or trio) work together to lead worship. It’s a wondrous thing to have someone raise their hand to say that they are willing to lead, but feel they can’t do it alone, and then to find that there’s someone else who is eager to share the experience and help lead.

The third model is also very similar to the first two. The worship service is largely the same format as other worship services. The difference is in the sermon/homily/message slot. Since the sermon can be a daunting experience even for ordained people, we have experimented with ways of making the sermon a more manageable, but still meaningful, aspect of leading, and experiencing, worship. The most promising experiment has involved a worship leader (or one of the leaders, if there’s a pair), choosing a devotional piece (online or from a book). The devotional is shared and then that person offers a reflection on why that particular devotional was chosen— in what ways did the devotional resonate with them? What aspects of the devotional felt worthy of sharing with a larger group? How did the devotional support or challenge or enliven the person’s experience of faith? How did the devotional help the person to consider in a new way a scripture passage or story?

The final model is the hymn sing. We are very fortunate to have one person in the congregation who is especially musically inclined and an organist willing to go along with a worship service that requires a great deal of playing. As a former music teacher, Cynthia is able to lead a hymn sing with ease. While this isn’t a model that can be used often, no more than once or twice a year (and at least a few months apart), it is usually a welcome worship opportunity, especially if it allows people to make hymn requests in advance.

As many churches like Old South continue to experience loss in terms of numbers of attendance and participation, it’s crucial not to get too caught up in the numbers game, in the spiral of blame and shame, as such a focus saps energy and strength. When communities of faith maintain a commitment to who they are and to whom they belong, and stay focused on the wonders and joy of being a worshiping community, regardless of size, the path ahead opens up a whole bunch of possibilities. Grief and sadness remain, but they are tempered and kept in perspective when the worshiping community boldly claims its connection to the God it worships, the meaningfulness of God’s love, and our mission to share that love with each other and others.

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Enough Is Enough

Posted on July 31, 2024 by smaxreisert

The man said, “The woman you gave me, she gave me some fruit[c] from the tree, and I ate.” Genesis 3:12 (CEB)

“Their words struck the apostles as nonsense, and they didn’t believe the women.”  Matthew 24:11 (CEB)

“We are effectively run in this country … by a bunch of childless cat ladies who are miserable at their own lives and the choices that they’ve made, and so they wanna make the rest of the country miserable, too,” J.D. Vance (2021)

Over countless years, seemingly since the beginning of time, women have all too often been blamed, shamed and treated as something less than fully human. The Bible hasn’t helped very much, although it’s incredibly frustrating to see the more problematic views on women and about women held up as definitive notions regarding women and their worth. There are plenty of places in the Bible where women are fully human, not in any way deficient by reason of their anatomy.

Since the big news of the summer broke, that President Biden had decided to step aside from running for a second term and to endorse his vice president instead, the barrage of sexist and downright misogynistic slurs directed at Kamala Harris has not exactly been surprising. Still, it’s profoundly annoying and disheartening— and unsettling. How can it be that we are still dealing with such attitudes regarding women in this country?

Christians really have no good excuse to denigrate and dismiss the full humanity of women, or to assert that the full humanity of women is essentially connected to men, that the role of women is to “complement” men. Just take Mary of Magdala, “apostle to the apostles,” in her sharing of the Good News of Christ’s resurrection on that first Easter Sunday morning. As the Son of God, Jesus (presumably) could have shown himself to anyone. He chose Mary. And, Mary shared the news, even as Matthew reported that the news wasn’t welcomed or believed at first.

Although it has been recently revealed that an ancient manuscript (not authored by Dan Brown, of The Da Vinci Code fame) suggests that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were married to each other and had children together, most of Christian history and most unquestioned texts related to Christian history and the Christian faith contain no such theory. Mary was, by the admittedly sparse resources available, never married and never had children.

Would Mary, then, fall into the category of “cat lady”? Was she, as J.D. Vance has suggested of unmarried, childless women, miserable at her life and the choices she made?

Enough is enough. Plenty of men manage to live lives untethered to a spouse or partner and, dare I say, lives that are content and unremarked upon by people who are running for office. There are plenty of unmarried, childless women who manage to live lives that are not only rewarding, but are connected deeply to community and country, seeking the common good beyond a nuclear family.

Christians must be willing to engage with and embrace the wide array of lessons and models presented in our holy book. The Gospels, especially, show a Savior who reached out to many, without regard to class, status, gender, marital status, etc. Jesus healed and taught, dined and ministered with, both men and women. It is well beyond the time when all Christians— conservative, liberal and everything in between— demand that women be treated with the full personhood that Jesus modeled during his earthly ministry.

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I Feel for Joe Biden’s Priest

Posted on July 10, 2024 by smaxreisert

For many years— at least a couple of decades— my siblings and I worried a great deal about our aging parents. They lived in a problematic setting (cramped second floor of a two-family house that needed work) and stubbornly refused to listen to the advice and counsel of medical professionals. When a new physician shared her concerns with my father regarding his unsteadiness on his feet (one of the reasons for the visit was because of a fall), he declared that he was changing doctors. That happened multiple times with both parents.

In the fall of 2019, my mother broke her hip. My siblings and I wanted to use the opportunity to get both parents into a better living situation (especially since my father admitted, during a long hospital visit, that mother had started to show, through the previous year, serious memory issues). We knew it would be difficult. One of the people we turned to for assistance was the pastor at the church my parents attended. The relatively new pastor (and relatively new to ministry) declared that she was up to the task. She was confident that she could provide the necessary push to get them to deal more realistically with their situation. In my conversations with her, I warned her that she didn’t seem to appreciate fully what she was dealing with when it came to my parents. She assured me that she understood what was going on, what her role was, and how she would go about convincing my parents that it was time to move.

They didn’t move. Once my mother was discharged from a rehab center, she essentially became housebound until the early signs of dementia were accelerated by UTIs in the spring of 2022. After she had to go to a nursing home, we spent months and months trying to convince our dad that he needed to move. Eventually, he did (just a few months ago). It took a huge amount of work.

In the local church I serve, I’ve seen similar situations and I’ve talked to various people about issues around aging. Some deal with it in an honest, thoughtful way, keeping in mind their relationship with their family and the potential burdens they place on their adult children. Some are in the same sort of denial as my parents.

None of the people I’ve dealt with was or is the leader of the free world.

Since the presidential debate debacle of a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been thinking a lot of President Biden’s priest. I don’t know if Mr. Biden is in regular contact with a priest, but I’m assuming he is. I would not want to be that priest, in such a hugely challenging position to provide counsel to a man who clearly is not willing to consider the ravages of aging on his own self. I would not want to be that priest, in the delicate role of trying to help to save our democracy.

In the defiant tone of the President since that debate, I suspect Mr. Biden is endeavoring to show strength and stamina. All I see is a foolish and stubborn old man, refusing to accept reality. I know that I’m not alone. Lots of other Americans have had or are having similar experiences to my experience, in which an aging family member flat-out refuses to take a good look in the mirror or to admit to signs of decline— that almost everyone else can see.

I can’t help but wonder about the priest who may be invited in to spend time with the President— to advise, to counsel, to listen, to pray. I don’t doubt the sense of powerlessness that may very well be part of that priest’s current reality and experience. Whoever you are, priest/spiritual guide/trusted pastor, I hold you in prayer.

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A Brief Reflection on the Kindness of Strangers

Posted on June 26, 2024 by smaxreisert

I recently returned from a much anticipated trip to Peru. My husband and I (along with a friend) had planned on going to Peru back in 2020, but like so many trips that year, it got canceled. Then, we made plans to go last year, but when the big payment was due, there was quite a lot of civil unrest in the country. We decided to transfer our deposit to another destination. Last fall, we started to focus once again on Peru. It’s been a big “bucket list” item for my husband, so we couldn’t just let it fall away.

One of the big issues we had to contend with, as the trip was pushed from 2020 to 2023 and finally to 2024, was how our aging bodies would do in managing a trip that involved at least some hiking near Machu Picchu. The trip in 2020 included a four or five day hike that would eventually bring us to the ancient city. But, I knew that I could no longer take on the demands of that kind of hike. Plus, the more we learned about the country, the more we wanted to have time to explore other areas. In the end, we chose an itinerary that included a one-day hike along the Inca Trail that would take us to the Sun Gate (I should note that the “Sun Gate” designation is a more modern name, rather than an Inca name, for the glorious viewpoint that looks down on the magnificent city of Machu Picchu). The following day, we would explore the ancient city.

As it happened, my husband ended up with some kind of food poisoning episode during the night before the big hike. Given the four-year wait to get to that point, he just couldn’t conceive of missing it. After an anxious wait after medications were administered around 4:00am, his body started to settle down. When our guide came to pick us up at 6:30am, we informed him of the situation. He suggested that we purchase a couple of bottles of electrolytes, with sips of the solution taken at regular intervals. We made it to the trail without incident, so we were all feeling good about our adventure, if a bit tired.

The day was a hot one and our guide, Freddy, told us that the first half of the seven-mile hike would be the most challenging— almost all uphill with very little shade. I’m typically a slow hiker and I was that day as well, so it didn’t seem at all strange that I started to lag behind our small group. But, somewhere along the way, after almost two miles of hiking, I realized that something was wrong. I wasn’t just feeling my usual hiking discomfort. I felt very hot and like I was going to throw up. I couldn’t really string a complete sentence in my own head. When my husband came to check on me, I just started muttering that things weren’t right.

Eventually, I was coaxed to a shaded shelter. There was another group taking a break, with another guide, there. That guide and our guide knew each other. The two guides realized there was something wrong and after a little discussion, in which they agreed that I was showing early signs of heat stroke, they sprang into action. My hat was taken off my head, doused with water and put back on my head. A cloth was found that was also doused with water. It was put around my neck. My pack was taken from me and was attached to the guide’s pack. And I was told to start drinking some of the electrolyte solution.

As all of this was happening, I was mostly in a fog. But, I remember two things quite clearly— the concern of the guides and the concern of one of the hikers from the other group. I think that group was a made up of Germans. One of the women in the group was clearly worried for me. In her halting English, she asked what she could do for me. At that point, there really wasn’t anything else to do. I just needed to let my body cool down and try to set out again. Still, her concerned face touched me.

After about 20-30 minutes, I was feeling much better. After lunch by a lovely water fall (and more cool water for my hat and cloth around my neck) and our arrival at the easier half of the hike, I was feeling much, much better. At some point after lunch, we ran into that group of Germans and their guide. The woman and the guide were genuinely thrilled not only to see me still on the trail, but doing well. It was a nice moment.

In a world that seems increasingly full of hostility and meanness, where a candidate for president of the United States seems not only to pride himself in name-calling and threatening violence upon others, but appears to have captured the hearts and minds of so many Americans who revel in the bullying and intimidation, it seems even more important to observe and celebrate those small moments when kindness is the central theme. And, when kindness involves strangers showing care and concern, when strangers go out of their way to offer assistance, it’s a moment to be treasured. And, more than that, such moments ought not be offered up with gratitude and then sent to the back of one’s memory. Instead, they ought to be held close and nurtured, that they might take root and grow.

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Isn’t It Time to Do This Differently?

Posted on June 3, 2024 by smaxreisert

When I was in divinity school, way back in the last century, I remember taking a survey class on the Hebrew Scriptures. As a course covering a vast and complex subject, there was a lot to try to squish into one semester. One of the more memorable discussions, following a couple of lectures, focused on how we understand these ancient stories, written so many years ago and in such a remarkably different context. Should the stories be understood as literal truth, as in God creating the world and the universe, in seven distinct days or as charming myths from the creativity energy of an ancient people? Or was there another way of approaching these old stories, a way that not only brought meaning to us these many years later, but helped bridge a line of connection?

I remember considering the creation stories (there are two of them) from the beginning of Genesis. One of the more memorable moments was to notice the truth contained in the second story, in Genesis 2 and 3. The truth was not in the details of the progression of Creation. Instead, there was a vital element of truth in the ways through which the human beings relate to God and to each other. It was rather humbling to discover that human beings really haven’t change so much, despite the advancements in civilization and the march of evolution. After engaging in transgression, as it was then is still the case, the man shifts the focus of blame to the nearest woman.

When Adam is caught having eaten from the tree that he wasn’t supposed to eat from and then blames it on his wife, those of us who gathered in that class found it amusing. While we may consider the story more myth than truth in the details, there was this nugget that has continued to be true throughout a long span of time. I no longer find it funny. At all.

I can’t help but wonder if that story was either written by woman or influenced by a woman, a woman trying to highlight a problematic component of human behavior. Was there a woman attempting to use this story to call out men, beseeching them to take responsibility for the things they do rather than blame their wives, or at least to share responsibility, especially when it comes to the communal nature (and property) of married couples? If that had been the original intent of the story, it obviously failed.

Here we are in the 21st century with men of significance still blaming their wives. Isn’t it time to do this differently?

In recent days, we’ve heard from two prominent men eager to shift blame to their wives— Senator Bob Menendez and Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito. In both cases, it is certainly possible that the wives were the ones to engage in the problematic behavior. Still, the swift response to blame the wife when wrongdoing is made public is, in my mind, not acceptable. We must find a way to shake off the Curse of Creation, an entirely different perspective on what could be labeled “original sin.”

Even if Justice Samuel Alito didn’t have anything to do with the waving of that flag upside down in front of his own house where he lives (and the other flag at his vacation property) and even if it really was the work of his wife, the fact that he was so quick to blame his wife in his public response ought to make him ineligible to serve on the Supreme Court. It’s not that I wish to invoke a sort of chivalry, requiring that men take on blame as part of a twisted honor code. The issue here is the sense of treating one’s wife as a handy sponge ready to absorb the messes of life.

As we see in the Creation story of Genesis 2 and 3, it’s important to appreciate that just because Adam conveniently found a ready blame buddy doesn’t mean he gets away with his transgression. God lays down justice for both, a justice that ripples through the generations. Adam may have thought that by shifting blame, he would be spared from consequences. But, blaming the wife brought no nifty escape route. There should not be an escape route for Justice Alito, or any other man. It’s time to do this differently.

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Faith, Reason and a Whole Lot of Hubris

Posted on May 17, 2024 by smaxreisert

One day last week, as I made my way through my regular morning routine of news headlines and games— local paper, New York Times, Boston.com and finally, the Washington Post— I found myself looking at a tantalizing title, “Are Politics Replacing Religion in American Life?” [Washington Post, 5/9/24] The title connected to an introduction to an episode of a podcast called “Impromptu.” The podcast offers “frank, thoughtful conversations on the news” from Washington Post opinions columnists, offering a “before the columns are written” view into the minds of those who write for the Opinions section on “the stories that matter.”

In the intro to this particular podcast episode, containing a discussion among three columnists, the following was offered as a lure to hit the “play” button:

A lot of us had this idea that as religion declines, people will become more rational, reasonable, tolerant. That we will have less divisiveness. But I think one can make the argument that it hasn’t turned out that way.

We can look at the last 25 years, this precipitous decline in church attendance. And according to Gallup, it was hovering around 70 to 75 percent from the late 1930s to 2000. And then in the last 25 years, we’ve seen a sudden drop to just under 50 percent. So we’re talking about a massive cultural change. In that 25-year period, it doesn’t seem like the United States has become more consensus-oriented or unified. If anything, ideological and political fragmentation and polarization have risen. I think one way of seeing this is that political intensity is replacing religious intensity as the grounding force of what Americans believe in. We’ve become political believers rather than religious believers. [If you look at Trump rallies, sometimes they seem like religious events.]

The argument of a lot of secular or nonreligious people is that religion is divisive; it’s inherently polarizing. And the less we have of it in public life, the more secularized we become, the more we can move our politics to the realm of fact and objective analysis. We no longer have religious passions polluting things. I think that is a widespread perception. There was this sense of a kind of secular promised land where we have a more rational politics. But we don’t have that.

This little teaser left me with such a sense of outrage and bewilderment that it took days for me to hit, finally, the “play” button— although I discovered that the content of the podcast was not especially illuminating, beyond the introduction.

Where even to begin? Secular promised land? A politics that exists only in the realm of fact and objective analysis? As religion declines American society will become more rational and reasonable? Somehow religion is the only influence that causes people to be stray from reason and rationality?

Who are these people? Do they live in the United States? Have they ever looked at social media or the Letters to the Editor section of any newspaper?

One of the elements of the podcast that I found especially troubling was the suggestion that there have been people who have not only relished the decline in religious attachment and participation, but have done what they can to assist in the downturn. It appears that there are “secularists” who have conscientiously fanned any flames they can find to denigrate the “religious passions” that “pollute” our society, culture and public life. While I don’t think the podcast exposes the machinations of some sort of organized cabal of people dedicated to ushering in a glorious era of secularism, the columnists— at least two of the three— seem remarkably hostile to religion, religious institutions and religious attachment. Except for a sense of community, religious affiliation is little more than an affinity for superstitious nonsense.

The podcast discussion shows little to no regard for the benefits of religion in society. The columnists may have watched too many Trump rallies and interviews with Trump enthusiasts. And in that regard, I can see their point. But, there’s a lot more to this story. There are plenty of faithful, religious people who not only reject the “theology” of Trump and his people, but are engaged in significant work that brings hope, well-being, and love to individuals, families and communities around this country and beyond. We are not religiously “impassioned” people who pollute “things,” while seeking to be “polarizing” and “divisive.” In fact, many communities of faith are just the opposite, endeavoring to search for common ground and the common good, while also reaching out to the marginalized and oppressed. We deserve more from those learned columnists who claim to be so focused on the “stories that matter.”

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Healthy Habits?

Posted on May 1, 2024 by smaxreisert

A recent featured article in the Harvard Gazette email newsletter offered this tantalizing title: “Why Public Health Should Attend to the Spiritual Side of Life” [written by Tyler VanderWeele, Harvard Public Health, April 10, 2024, link is here]. The author bemoaned the lack of attention to spiritual matters in the world of public health, that in public health textbooks and in classrooms, religion and spiritual practices are ignored. Public health students and professionals use all kinds of information to understand good, and not so good, health outcomes. What influences the health of citizens? There are many issues taken into account and considered, except one big one: religion.

Why is this? Is it a lack of awareness? Is it connected to a lack of study and data? It turns out that it’s not the lack of study and data:

A major 2022 systematic review in the Journal of the American Medical Association documented 215 studies, each with sample sizes over 1,000 participants, using longitudinal data to evaluate the relationship between religion and health. The evidence from meta-analyses, large longitudinal studies (including from Harvard’s own Nurses’ Health Study), and handbooks providing more extensive documentation, suggests that weekly religious service attendance is longitudinally associated with lower mortality risk, lower depression, less suicide, better cardiovascular disease survival, better health behaviors, and greater marital stability, happiness, and purpose in life.

For many of those who regularly attend worship services and participate in some way in the care of and attention to the spiritual side of life, the health benefits are well-known. We know that religious communities are—generally speaking— in the business of caring and attending. We don’t need to dig deep into documentation and research. We live the data.

It is frustrating to realize that one of the easiest solutions to some of our country’s most troubling ills already exists, but is ignored and unappreciated. In many cases, the solution to loneliness, unhappiness, depression, isolation, etc, is right in the middle of the community. In fact, there are often quite a few of these organizations easily accessible.

As I read the short article by Professor VanderWeele, I started thinking about my own annual visits to the doctor’s office. I’ve noticed that the paperwork has been accumulating, year after year. In addition to a survey of any changes to my health that I’ve noticed since my last visit, there are usually several more pages of questions for me to answer before I’m invited into the exam room, questions like: do I feel safe at home; am I experiencing food insecurity; do I have symptoms of depression; how much alcohol do I consume; do I smoke; do I use recreational drugs and, if so, how often; do I ever wake up in the morning with no memory of what I did the night before. Etc. Etc.

Nowhere among those questions is there anything about my religious affiliation or my spiritual practices. There is nothing that suggests that any health professional I will encounter cares in any way— or has been taught to care— about the spiritual side of my life. As I think about it, I wonder if my primary care nurse practitioner has even noticed what my job is, and that it is in the realm of religion.

What’s even more frustrating is that this avenue of health and well-being is disappearing. Congregations and groups of people who gather regularly for worship, attending to their relationship with God as well as with each other are diminishing. And, many of these communities have dwindled to a point where they can no longer sustain themselves. Countless church buildings around the country have been sold for another purpose or abandoned.

I realize that there are lots of complicating issues when it comes to the relationship between the practice of religion and community life. It is well-known that many people have been harmed through the unhealthy and illegal actions of clergy and others working in the field of religion. Real damage has been done to individuals, families and communities. Still, such problematic behavior is not widespread. If the studies are to be believed, religious communities have a lot to offer in supporting good public health. But, if this benefit is not recognized more widely, it will continue to decline. It’s hard to gauge the consequences, but clearly they are great— for everyone.

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That Thing About Authority

Posted on April 17, 2024 by smaxreisert

A long, long time ago, in my first year as a student minister at a United Church of Christ church in Cambridge, MA, I once inadvertently insulted a church member so much during a sermon that after that one particular worship service, he declared that he would never again set foot in that church. To my knowledge, he never did. It was a strange experience. I was just a student minister. Although I participated in worship every Sunday, I only preached every four to six weeks. I don’t remember what I said or did, but it was probably something political, offering a criticism of the practices or policies of the then President, George H.W. Bush.

Over the years, I’ve occasionally encountered other people like that man, people who have walked away because of something I’ve said or written. These experiences have led me to wonder about the relationship between church members and pastors. Is it a pastor’s job to support the inclinations of all church members (as if that’s even possible) or water down one’s message in order to keep feathers from being ruffled? If a church experience is only about bolstering one’s already deeply held convictions, why bother going at all? What role does a pastor’s spiritual speech have in a congregation and with congregants? How do church members understand the pastor’s “authority”? Why is it so difficult for some church members to appreciate that the pastor’s position includes speaking in ways that may make church members uncomfortable, even angry?

Some of the most memorable and meaningful conversations I’ve had over these many years of ministry have involved church members who have stormed into my office to object to a sermon, a prayer or a piece written for the church newsletter. These conversations are never easy, but I have found them to be rich and rewarding, an opportunity for a noticeable growth in faith— for both participants. I have learned a great deal from those who have met with me to unload their discontent. When they realize that I’m not interested in fighting but conversing (sometimes on multiple occasions), something mysterious opens up, allowing each of us to explore some of life’s most difficult questions as well as faith’s deep mysteries.

It’s too bad that such conversations and situations are rare. More often, when I make someone angry, they simply stop attending worship or they seethe with quiet rage. I remember one especially difficult occasion some years ago. The congregation at Old South had recently approved an “open and affirming” statement. A couple who had attended regularly and for whom I had officiated at their wedding, stopped coming to worship. When I called, they said they would welcome a visit. The conversation during that visit, though, was mainly a lot of anti-gay slogans that the husband had picked up from a co-worker who attended a decidedly not open and affirming kind of church. When I tried to suggest, gently, that maybe I was better informed on what the Bible says, and does not say, since I had attended divinity school and the co-worker had not, the “conversation,” such as it was, essentially came to an end. The husband clearly preferred the co-worker’s interpretation and opinion. It didn’t matter that I had studied the issue in a variety of ways. As a pastor, this man expected that I would support and uphold his views, that the “authority” was in the hands of parishioners (even though, in this case, the open and affirming decision was a unanimous vote of those church members who attended a particular congregational meeting on the issue).

These days, I’m increasingly concerned about what appears to be— if the studies are correct— the growing number of people who self-identify as Christian and even as evangelical, but no longer attend worship of any kind. They are not interested in anyone even remotely offering a differing point of view to their own. That’s bad enough, but many of these people, because of their attachment to the label “Christian,” are pulling God into the mix, as if they have the authority of knowing God’s desires and intentions completely— and those desires and intentions often involve a certain former president.

For those who feel they possess that kind of authority through which they know all of God’s expectations, but intentionally reject pastoral guidance precisely for the reason that they perceive pastors may assert a perspective different from their own, an especially troubling scenario begins to take shape. Living in the midst of a faith echo chamber is problematic on many levels, stifling rather than enlivening one’s faith. Practicing the faith in the midst of a pastoral relationship is important. Critical questions ought to be considered by all Christians regarding the life of faith, the interpretation and use of biblical stories and lessons, and the issue of authority. It’s not that clergy are always correct, or in a position to exact a complete and utter use of the authoritative role, but there’s a significant relationship here that deserves faithful attention.

In the United Church of Christ, those who have successfully engaged in a process to ministry, whether fully ordained or licensed, involving the local church and the local association of churches, are said to be “authorized” for ministry. That authority is a heavy one. We clergy make a lot of promises, regarding things like preaching and administering the sacraments, working cooperatively and collegially, respecting all, honoring confidences and not exploiting our position for personal gain. Again, it’s not that clergy are perfect. Far from it. But, many of us take very seriously the promises we have made and ask, in return, that our role be respected. Sometimes, we have something prophetic to say. Sometimes, our job IS to make church members feel uncomfortable. And, sometimes it is our job to engage in holy conversation when parishioners have a different point of view.

My interpretation of scripture and the lessons Jesus taught lead me to believe that one cannot claim to be a “Christian” if one does not regularly attend Christian worship and does not engage in the life of a Christian community of faith. Jesus made very clear the significance of community, the value of gathering with others (something he did even for himself) and the fact that he himself is present when two or three are gathered— and not just one. The life of faith is grace and blessing, but it is also a responsibility. As I’ve written many times, to worship God is to acknowledge that one is not God, that our awareness of God and God’s intentionsis always limited. Every Christian ought to appreciate that it is incumbent upon each one to gather in the midst of community and to recognize not the absolute, but the authoritative nature of leadership— whether in the form of a person or in the gathering of a group in worship.

 

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