Going Over the Religion Cliff

Last Sunday’s Sunday New York Times Book Review offered a cover story entitled, “Has Fiction Lost Its Faith?” (12/23/12)  In that article Paul Elie summed up his sense of the place of Christianity in contemporary fiction this way:  ““This, in short, is how the Christian belief figures into literary fiction in our place and time: as something between a dead language and a hangover.”

I read that and I felt once again that sensation that my religion, my church, my faith, is in freefall—somewhere between the cliff above and the ground below.

As everyone right now is talking about the imminent “fiscal cliff” and its impact on the U.S. economy, this Christmas has left me with the distinct feeling that American Christianity, especially as it exists in my part of the country, has already gone over its own cliff.  And we are in the midst of plummeting to oblivion.

It’s a sensation that I’ve been feeling more and more often.  This year’s Christmas pageant had more adult participants than children, and even then we were only able to find two kings (no matter, really, as Matthew actually never gives a number for the kings who visited the baby Jesus and his family).

A couple of weeks ago, I was invited to participate in Hallowell’s annual inaugural, which happens at the beginning of January.  The mayor left me a message yesterday that she wants to chat before the event.  I suspect she’ll offer the same “advice” and “guidance” as last year—could you tone down the “God talk” and try to be not so blatantly Christian?

And all through this season, I’ve been struggling with the sense that not only do more and more people celebrate and observe just the Santa part of Christmas, but they are engaging in this approach in even more determined ways.  A week or two ago, the pubic radio station had a local musician as a special on-air during its weekday morning classical music program.  He was talking about the music of the season and the music that his group will play.  This musician mentioned things like joy and family, and how beautiful the music of this season is, but he never once uttered the word “Jesus” or “faith” or anything like that.  It’s as if all of the sacred music of the season can be extricated from its source of inspiration, as if we can enjoy and contemplate its loveliness without ever meditating on the subject matter of the words that are being sung.

It’s all part of this feeling in my gut that everything is not only changing, but has changed, in dramatic ways.  We are over the cliff.  Will some branch present itself to break our fall?  Will a balloon materialize that will carry us back up before we hit the ground?

I don’t want to sound so negative, or seem so lacking in hope, especially in this season that is about hope, but what I’m noticing around me concerns me greatly.  So, I’m really looking for that branch, or that balloon, that might offer a way of breaking our fall.  I’m really looking.

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God’s Birth Plan: What to Expect When You’re Expecting

I was just one week short of the due date for my second child when I woke up on a lovely morning in spring and felt a few mild cramps.  I might not have taken much notice, but then I realized that, though faint, they were regular.  Maybe I was in labor.  I woke up my husband, called our friend who had offered to stay with our daughter, and took a shower.  We were off to the hospital at 7:00 am.

Still, the cramps were not much, but they were still very regular.  I checked myself in and walked up to the maternity area of the hospital.  I was starting to think that I might not be in labor at all and would be sent home.

At the hour of the morning, they were just beginning shift change.  I was waltzed into a room, hooked me up to a machine and monitor.  And, then my husband and I were alone.

After a little while, a nurse came back to check on the readings from the machine and to announce that, yes, I was in labor.  Then, off she went.  Soon, after that, a resident came in to take note of the fact that my water had not broken, despite the fact that I was somehow somewhere around eight centimeters dilated (for those who haven’t gone through this, that’s a lot, and very near the place where women give birth; usually there’s a great deal of pain, over a long period of time, to reach this point).

And, before I knew it, the room was filled with all sorts of people—those whose shifts were ending, along with everyone who was just beginning his/her shift.  My water was broken by the doctor and then hard labor kicked in fast.  I managed to remind the doctor that I wanted an epidural.  She told me that it was too late.  I managed to inform her, again, that I intended on having an epidural and that we had, in fact, talked about it during my last office visit.  She emphatically declared that it was too late.  I declared that I wasn’t happy.  And, then even more emphatically, she almost yelled at me, “You don’t understand!  This baby is going to be born in a matter of minutes!”

And, I responded, “But that’s not my birth plan!”

Women of a certain age will know exactly what I’m talking about.  Those of us who are a part of the What to Expect When You’re Expecting generation know that we modern moms go into the labor and delivery room with “a plan,” a “birth plan.”  We are well-informed and we are ready to give birth, with a clear plan of action.

Except that for many mothers, birth has its own way.  Birth isn’t all that interested in following the well-laid out plan of action.  Birth often doesn’t follow the script.

I believe that this is how we should encounter the Christmas Story.  Instead of domesticating it, and making it so neat and predictable, we ought to spend a few moments mediating on how completely wild it is—that God chose to be among us, and to come to us in the smallness and vulnerability of a child.

God’s plan for birthing new life in the midst of the people is a lot like the actual experience of giving birth for many women—difficult, painful, sometimes a little terrifying, unexpected, and completely amazing.  It is not like the carefully scripted pageant scene that we act out in our church sanctuaries every December.

In this season, we would do well not to just stand back and experience the same old tale once again, but instead to allow ourselves to be invited in and to explore what these lessons are and how they enliven our faith.  God’s continuing birth plan for the people is anything but mild or tame, or predictable.

What to expect when you are an expectant people?  Something amazing and unexpected.  It’s just waiting to be noticed—and experienced.

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Thoughts and Prayers

My thoughts and prayers are with the people of Newtown, Conn.– with the families, the children, the responders, the teachers and administrators, community leaders,  and everyone who is helping that community.

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The Church in Decline: Weddings

In the gay marriage debates and voting seasons that have happened in Maine (we’ve voted on this issue twice in recent years), and elsewhere, I’ve noticed that those who are against gay marriage like to scare people—religious people—by telling them that if gay marriage is legalized, then churches will be forced to perform gay marriages.  Now that gay marriage has been approved by Maine voters, I’m waiting for the phone to start ringing.  But, there’s only silence.

My question is this:  does anyone get married in a church these days?

One of the television shows that my daughter likes to watch is “Say Yes to the Dress” (she’s sixteen).  I don’t like the show myself, but occasionally I’ll catch a bit of an episode, mostly just to have an excuse to plunk down on the couch and be with her.

At the end of each episode of “Say Yes to the Dress,” they feature one of the brides getting married, in the dress that she’s chosen during the episode, in the midst of much drama—how else could you have a show about this, if you didn’t have drama?  I’ve noticed that not many of those weddings take place in a church.

And, I’ve noticed this too, in my little church in the middle of Maine.  I’ve served Old South for about seven years.  In my first couple of years, I had multiple weddings each year.  In 2011 and 2012, we haven’t had even one wedding.

We don’t even field many calls for weddings anymore.  In my first few years, I was amazed by how many phone calls came in just after the first of the year.  If I wanted to, I probably could have performed five to ten weddings each year (which would be a lot for this church that I serve).  But, most of the calls that we got in the church office did not turn into actual weddings at Old South for a variety of reasons—the church doesn’t have a center aisle (a big deal-breaker for a lot of people); I require premarital counseling (also a big deal-breaker); I don’t allow most of the planning to be in the hands of one of the mothers; and, I must officiate at weddings (also a remarkable deal-breaker; some callers asked, essentially, if they could “rent” the church, and bring their own officiant).

The numbers of calls, though, has dwindled to just a small handful.  This year, in all 2012, I think we’ve fielded two calls regarding possible weddings.  Neither one of them resulted in an actual wedding being added to the church calendar.

Now that gay marriage has been approved, I am waiting once again.  Will the phone ever ring, with a question about scheduling a wedding?

It’s not that I’m all that eager to preside at weddings.  Truth be told, I don’t much like weddings.  There’s way too much emphasis on the trappings—the reception, the dress, the color scheme—and not nearly enough on the marriage and the long-term commitment and compatibility of the two people looking to get hitched.  But, still, I am aware that there are weddings happening on a regular basis in this area—yet not at my church, nor the other churches around mine.

This whole business seems symptomatic of the decline of the relevance of church.  And, that’s too bad.  Churches, despite their flaws, are good at some things, including the big moments of our lives—weddings, for one.  Churches are not just concerned about the center aisle or the color scheme or even the dress.  We are concerned about the people who are getting married, their families, and the community as a whole.  We are concerned about well-being and looking for signs of potential trouble before the marriage license is signed, and celebrating all that is good when two people decide to get married.  In my church, that goes for heterosexual and homosexual couples.

I fear, though, that the phone will remain silent and that is sad in so many ways.

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What If We Build It and They Still Don’t Come?

In Central Maine, churches face a very difficult reality.  A Central Maine mainline church may have great programming, a wonderful minister, meaningful worship, an enthusiastic Christian Education program, a heavenly choir, and a friendly, welcoming and open congregation.  And, yet, a church may still not be able to sustain its membership numbers, let alone grow, and it may not be able to continue its existence into the future—for little, or no, fault of its own.

We can build it, but they still may not come—simply because they don’t live here anymore.

The once mighty industries that fueled the economy of Central Maine and the towns and cities therein—textiles and paper, in particular—are almost non-existent.  And the people that worked in those industries, well, they are mostly gone too.

In Augusta, Maine, for instance, the population shrunk significantly between 1980 and 2000.  In an especially significant category, one that signals the numbers of families with young children, the population of people under the age of 18 shrunk by 25% in that twenty year span.  In nearby Waterville, the population in the same category shrunk by almost as much.  Some of those people, and the families to whom they belonged, moved to some of the smaller communities in the area, but not all of them.  While the population between 2000 and 2010 has stabilized in the region, the decline in the years between 1980 and 2000 was considerable.

We see the toll of the population decline on schools, hospitals, the small, struggling downtowns, and in the real estate market.  Yet, so many churches continue to believe that they are somehow immune to the dynamics of the communities in which they exist.

And, while we fail to engage the numbers, we also don’t really consider the other dynamic altering our communities—they are getting older.  In the small city where my church, Old South Congregational United Church of Christ, exists (just south of Augusta), the median age increased from 32, in 1980, to 42, in 2000.  Overall, Maine is now the oldest state in the country.

In addition to all of this bad news, there is yet one more big piece of unwelcome news:  Maine is the least churched state in the United States.  Although there is some debate about this fact (some Oregonians believe that they are the least churched and some Vermonters believe that they “win” this prize), Maine is clearly among the least churched.  According to one study, only twenty-seven percent of Maine residents self-identify as Christian.

We can build it, but they may not come.  That’s the challenge, and reality, of our churches in Maine.

It’s not that numbers are critically important to who we are, and what our mission is.  After all, Jesus never said anything about the church with the most people being the church that he would love best.  But, numbers are significant to the bottom line.  It is unfortunate that our physical plants don’t magically shrink in tandem with the decline in our attendance numbers.  Our smaller congregations are stuck with buildings that are too large and expensive to maintain.

This is the challenge that churches in Central Maine face:  what if we build it and they don’t come?  And what does that mean for our future?  And perhaps the most important question of all:  Will we face this unwelcome reality openly and faithfully, or will we simply ignore it and pretend that a brighter day will just somehow happen?

My hope is that we can engage this unwelcome reality, in faith and in hope.  It won’t be easy, that’s for sure, but the alternative is to watch churches, one by one, cease to exist.  For me, that’s a possibility that is just too awful to contemplate.

Our future is certainly different than our present, but it’s important to remember that that’s always been true.  So, where is God calling us to go and how is God speaking to us about who we are and who we will be?

It will better for us to think through and discuss this question, prayerfully—together, as a church—and to ponder anew what it means for us to be the church in this place.  May God’s Spirit carry us through and lead us—push us—to new life in the midst of this challenging environment.

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Christmas Without Christians

I’m not much of a fan of the “War on Christmas.”  In fact, I prefer “Happy Holidays” to “Merry Christmas” as I offer greetings around town, in recognition that there are many religious holidays that take place during this time of year and that I personally know quite a few people who do not celebrate Christmas.

At the same time, though, I find myself increasingly troubled by those who celebrate Christmas, but are clearly not Christian—those people who are happy to have a decorated tree and engulf their houses in green and red lights, but never go to church and don’t seem to have a clue about the origins of the holiday.  They know Santa, but not much else.

A few years ago, I was talking to a neighbor who found herself sharing stories about old family ornaments with her grandchildren.  Whenever she showed off an ornament that was more religious—a manger scene or an angel or star, for instance—her grandchildren (who were around nine or ten at the time) gave her a puzzled look.  They didn’t know anything about Christmas other than Santa and the tree with all of the gifts under it.

Is the secularization of Christmas okay?

Most Christians take for granted that most people know all about Christmas, even if they don’t go to church, or perhaps go only on Christmas Eve.  But, as we discover that an increasing number of adults, who never attended church as children, and continue to keep any official religion at a distance, how do we deal with Christmas?

What happens when Christmas becomes just a cultural celebration, more about Santa and less and less about the birth of Jesus?

Here in Maine, which is arguably the least churched state in the country (depending on what study you think is correct), the secularization of Christmas is clearly at hand.  Many would prefer to ignore this reality, but it seems evident to me.  But is there anything to do about it?

For some years now, I’ve sometimes tried to offer a disapproving comment – gently, of course—to my Jewish friends who have a tree and give gifts to their children on Christmas, in addition to observing Hanukah.   Should I also consider offering a disapproving comment—gently, of course—to my friends who celebrate Christmas, but wouldn’t think about going to church during the holiday season, and don’t even acknowledge in any way, shape, or form, that this holiday IS a religious holiday?

I’m thinking about it.   Perhaps I’ll give it a try and see what kind of response I get.  Could be interesting.

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The Future of the Mainline Church in Maine: Cautionary Tale #1

Review the placement openings for the United Church of Christ, and one finds many references to the word “grow” or “growth”—like, “Come Grow With Us!”  For many churches, growth is, and has been, a word of profound purpose.  Most churches want to share who they are and what they’ve found, the love of God, with others.  But, churches also recognize that membership growth—or at least membership/attendance maintenance—is important to the future health and well-being of the church.  A church can’t easily take care of its staff and physical plant without people coming to church and making financial contributions.

Churches in Maine, and I suspect in other parts of the country, are beginning to recognize how hard the growth business is.  And for some churches, even membership and attendance maintenance is not only difficult, it is impossible—and, mostly, for no fault of their own.

Yet, at least for my denomination, there is little focused talk on how to handle, explore and engage this unwelcome reality.  We still hear a lot about “growth,” as if all church’s need to do is find the right program or the right minister, and then the church will grow and everything will be fine.  And, even though we are witnessing the closing of churches, and the desperate struggle of others to stay afloat, those communities are simply thanked for the their service and we move on.

I believe that we should take every closed, along with every struggling church, and use them as case studies, object lessons if you will, like in a children’s sermon, and consider what story, and what message, they tell.

This week:  Object Lesson #1:  The small church in western Maine that tried.

I was at a Maine Conference event a few weeks ago and during lunch, I found myself speaking to a woman who attended a small church in a small town in western Maine.  Her church decided, a few years ago, to blanket the town with information about the church in the small center of their small town.  They produced leaflets, and other pieces of information, and then personally delivered the information to every household in the town—every single one.

And guess what happened?  Not one new person came to church.  Not one.

In Maine, I fear that we are at the start of a wave, a strong and determined wave.  The recent Pew Research study that revealed the significant rise of the “nones” in the U.S. (and even more troubling, the finding that most of the “nones” are quite content with being “nones” and are not looking for a religious community at all) is one very troubling, and humbling, piece of news that we have actually been witnessing in all of its painful reality.

And, then along with that, are some other difficult pieces of information.  Maine is the oldest state in the country (in my late forties, I am one of the youngest members of my congregation) and many communities in Maine are shrinking.  The old dominant Maine industries—paper and textiles especially—are a fraction of the size that they once were.  People don’t move to, and people don’t stay, in communities where there are no jobs.

The difficulties for church growth, then, are not just about the right program or the right minister.  Some churches (many churches?) will not only not be able to grow, they will not be (and have not been able) to maintain even current levels of membership and attendance.

Instead of simply thanking closing and struggling churches for their service, we ought to hold each and every one of them up as an object lesson.  What should my church do differently?  Is closure the only inevitable option?

Personally, I think not.  But, we won’t figure out those other options if we ignore the whole problem altogether.  A couple of churches are dealing with this issue—by merging or sharing more of their resources—but, we need to do more, and to do it at a larger level.  I find that I have some among the leadership of Old South who simply cannot engage this issue and part of the reason is that they hear it only from me, and not from the Maine Conference.

My hope in the wilderness this week is that we begin to understand how important this issue is and that we find the courage to engage with it in new and meaningful ways.  Surely, we’ve been led through some very difficult times in the past.  I know that the Spirit is ready and willing to lead us now, as well, if only we ask and follow.

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The Separation of Church and Building

A recent issue of Portland magazine (October 2012) features a cover story on new uses for old churches called “Divine Intervention.”  The cover photo displays a lively bar/restaurant with lots of people.  It’s warm and inviting.  It used to be a church. In the Table of Contents, the story’s subtitle is “Here’s the church, here’s the steeple; shift into retail and see all the people.”

For those of us who still go to church:  Ouch.

I read this story with a lot of mixed feelings.  While I fully realize that some churches are simply not able to continue to exist in their buildings and it’s nice to see new uses for those spaces that avoids tearing them down, it’s still very sad to contemplate the transition from worship space to something that is much more mundane.

These new restaurants, art galleries and performance spaces share architectural details of traditional churches, but they are no longer churches—even though the article would like the reader to believe that they are at least similar.  I’m reminded of how important it is that we view churches more as congregations than as buildings.  As those spaces once dedicated to worship are transformed into something else, what has happened to the actual church—the congregation?

Here in Central Maine, and especially at Old South, we are very aware of the reality of the potential hardship of physical structures.  At Old South, we have a small group of parishioners from a church that closed.  The structure that housed the Gardiner Congregational Church closed several years ago and was donated to the Maine Conference United Church of Christ.  It is still up for sale.

What was that “church”?  Was it the structure or the people who worshiped and gathered there?  I know it’s painful for a congregation to experience the closure of a church building, especially when the congregation can no longer afford to support the space financially.  For active church members, many memories involve the building—weddings, funerals, baptisms, confirmations.  And, then there is just that sense of tranquility that many church folk experience when sitting in a sanctuary.  I still remember the peace that came when I sat in the sanctuary of the first church I served.  The sanctuary was enormous.  On days when I was feeling especially overwhelmed or disconnected or out of sorts, I would sit in that sanctuary and find a peace that I could find nowhere else.  It was both of and out of this world.

But, even that sanctuary is no longer a sanctuary.  The building was sold to a local university.

These changes are difficult for church folk.  But, even as we watch buildings “transition” from church to something else, let us never forget that what truly matters are the people who gathered there—the people who prayed and worshiped, laughed and cried there, sung songs and observed silences, hugged and supported each other, welcomed the stranger, and always sought to love God with all of their heart, soul, mind and strength, and to love their neighbor as themselves.

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Life Among the “Nones”

“As Maine goes, so goes the nation” was once a notion that held some weight in presidential election cycles, as Maine found itself to be a bellwether for the general sentiments of the nation as a whole.  While the phrase may no longer be true in presidential elections, the phrase has found a new home in the world of religion.  A recent Pew Research Center study shows the dramatic changing face of religion in America and, especially, the decline of mainline Protestant churches.  The study found that “nones” are on the rise, with one in five American adults having no religious affiliation.

In Maine, we’ve been experiencing this trend for quite some time.

Whether we want to admit or not, many religious communities in Maine know all too well this reality.  Churches wonder about their diminishing numbers and have experienced first-hand that Maine is the least religious state in the country (according to a census conducted by the Association of Statisticians of American Religious Bodies released last spring).  Mainline Protestants have been especially hard hit, as their numbers have steeply declined since their glory days in the 1950s.

For those who find spiritual meaning in organized religious institutions, the latest Pew Research study offers an unsettling picture of what is happening nationally, but is already well in place right here in Maine.  In the last five years alone, the “unaffiliated” have increased from just over 15% to just under 20%.  This group includes non-believers, but also a large number of people who are “nothing in particular.”  And what is even more alarming is that in the “nothing in particular” category, a full 88% are not looking for a religion that would be right for them.

I witness this stark reality in Hallowell, where I serve the Congregational/United Church of Christ church.  For the few visitors that come to worship looking for a spiritual home, almost every single one has a previous church connection.  They have either recently moved here or they are looking for a change from the church they currently attend.  It is extremely rare to have someone visit who is “seeking” for the first time, or for the first time in a long time.

As we face this situation, I find myself often reminding my congregation that we must keep the numbers in perspective.  A full parking lot doesn’t necessarily signify that we are “doing it right.”  What is critical is our faithfulness to the Gospel.  But, numbers are significant to the bottom line, and our ability to do what we do in and through our staff and physical plant.  Many in my congregation are not happy when I begin talking about making changes.  And, to be honest, I don’t like it myself.  I was one of those weird kids growing up in the seventies who liked to go to church.

“As Maine goes, so goes the nation,” is all too true, though, when it comes to the Church.  Mainline churches must change in order to continue to witness to the life, hope and love of Jesus Christ.  If we simply decide to stick to how “we’ve always done things”—which usually means doing things as we’ve done them since the fifties—these churches will not survive.

For good or for bad, we in Maine are either trendsetters, or bellwethers.  Either way, many of us face an uncomfortable truth about our churches and the way of our faith—we either must conscientiously try to turn the tide or prepare for our inevitable demise.

We ought to take heart, though, in the knowledge that the Church, throughout its existence, has faced significant challenges and good people of faith have weathered those challenges.  If our faith truly means something important to us, we should embrace the challenges that we face, and set our churches on a course that truly witnesses to the love of God in these days.

Our call is to bear witness to the transformational love of Christ and the only way to offer that message is to live it, and to allow the Spirit to transform us.  In so doing, perhaps a few “nones” will join us and a whole new trend will find its way to expression.

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