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‘Spiritual but not religious’ is a cop-out

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“I’m meditating, dude!”

By Alan Miller, originally posted on CNN’s belief blog.

Note: Alan Miller is Director ofThe New York Salon and Co-Founder of London’s Old Truman Brewery. He is speaking at The Battle of Ideas at London’s Barbican in October.

By Alan Miller, guest post

The increasingly common refrain that “I’m spiritual, but not religious,” represents some of the most retrogressive aspects of contemporary society. The spiritual but not religious “movement” – an inappropriate term as that would suggest some collective, organizational aspect – highlights the implosion of belief that has struck at the heart of Western society.

Spiritual but not religious people are especially prevalent in the younger population in the United States, although a recent study has argued that it is not so much that people have stopped believing in God, but rather have drifted from formal institutions.

It seems that just being a part of a religious institution is nowadays associated negatively, with everything from the Religious Right to child abuse, back to the Crusades and of course with terrorism today.

Those in the spiritual-but-not-religious camp are peddling the notion that by being independent – by choosing an “individual relationship” to some concept of “higher power”, energy, oneness or something-or-other – they are in a deeper, more profound relationship than one that is coerced via a large institution like a church.

That attitude fits with the message we are receiving more and more that “feeling” something somehow is more pure and perhaps, more “true” than having to fit in with the doctrine, practices, rules and observations of a formal institution that are handed down to us.

The trouble is that “spiritual but not religious” offers no positive exposition or understanding or explanation of a body of belief or set of principles of any kind.

What is it, this “spiritual” identity as such? What is practiced? What is believed?

The accusation is often leveled that such questions betray a rigidity of outlook, all a tad doctrinaire and rather old-fashioned.

But when the contemporary fashion is for an abundance of relativist “truths” and what appears to be in the ascendancy is how one “feels” and even governments aim to have a “happiness agenda,” desperate to fill a gap at the heart of civic society, then being old-fashioned may not be such a terrible accusation.

It is within the context of today’s anti-big, anti-discipline, anti-challenging climate – in combination with a therapeutic turn in which everything can be resolved through addressing my inner existential being – that the spiritual but not religious outlook has flourished.

The boom in megachurches merely reflect this sidelining of serious religious study for networking, drop-in centers and positive feelings.

Those that identify themselves, in our multi-cultural, hyphenated-American world often go for a smorgasbord of pick-and-mix choices.

A bit of Yoga here, a Zen idea there, a quote from Taoism and a Kabbalah class, a bit of Sufism and maybe some Feing Shui but not generally a reading and appreciation of The Bhagavad Gita, the Karma Sutra or the Qur’an, let alone The Old or New Testament.

So what, one may ask?

Christianity has been interwoven and seminal in Western history and culture. As Harold Bloom pointed out in his book on the King James Bible, everything from the visual arts, to Bach and our canon of literature generally would not be possible without this enormously important work.

Indeed, it was through the desire to know and read the Bible that reading became a reality for the masses – an entirely radical moment that had enormous consequences for humanity.

Moreover, the spiritual but not religious reflect the “me” generation of self-obsessed, truth-is-whatever-you-feel-it-to-be thinking, where big, historic, demanding institutions that have expectations about behavior, attitudes and observance and rules are jettisoned yet nothing positive is put in replacement.

The idea of sin has always been accompanied by the sense of what one could do to improve oneself and impact the world.

Yet the spiritual-but-not-religious outlook sees the human as one that simply wants to experience “nice things” and “feel better.” There is little of transformation here and nothing that points to any kind of project that can inspire or transform us.

At the heart of the spiritual but not religious attitude is an unwillingness to take a real position. Influenced by the contribution of modern science, there is a reluctance to advocate a literalist translation of the world.

But these people will not abandon their affiliation to the sense that there is “something out there,” so they do not go along with a rationalist and materialistic explanation of the world, in which humans are responsible to themselves and one another for their actions – and for the future.

Theirs is a world of fence-sitting, not-knowingess, but not-trying-ness either. Take a stand, I say. Which one is it? A belief in God and Scripture or a commitment to the Enlightenment ideal of human-based knowledge, reason and action? Being spiritual but not religious avoids having to think too hard about having to decide.

The opinions expressed in this commentary are solely those of Alan Miller.

Take This Job and—

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Ponderings in becoming bi-vocational

Lately I’ve been hearing from more and more places that bi-vocational is the way to go for churches that want to be as missional and fully engaged in their broader communities as they can.

(Not to be pedantic, but bi-vocational refers to people in ministry having a second job in addition to their pastoral duties to help pay the bills.)

David Fitch, at rethinkingthemission.com noted last week that:

“Leadership must migrate from a paid professional clergy that spends all its time in maintenance functions/ministry of existing Christians, to a bi-vocational flexible clergy that is able to earn (at least some of) its financial support in the marketplace. I believe this new relationship of money between people and leader changes the dynamic of an organization in many many ways that lead to mission.”

Kurt Willems at the Pangea Blog had a guest blogger who offered similar sentiments: Bivocational Ministry Makes a Comeback.

Paying the bills.

I have been thinking about this more and more because for my new venture of starting a church in Washington DC, it looks like I may well need to supplement my income from other sources, as funds are limited, and DC is an expensive place to live.

So far I’ve applied for jobs as an editor, adjunct teacher in religious studies, writer, floor scrubber, and something else I can’t recall… oh yeah, working in a bookstore (how could I forget?).  (And in case you’re wondering if I’m hitting the big-time as an author, I get about $1 for each copy of Pub Theology sold, and the average new author book sells about 1,000 copies – which I have yet to reach.  So if I’m lucky I’ll be able to take my wife out to a nice dinner with my annual cut, but it won’t pay the rent).

I’m hopeful something pans out, but as my resume highlights, I’ve spent the last seven years being a pastor, and I’m not sure many employers know what to do with that.

The argument for bi-vocationalism, as I gather, is that having the pastor have a ‘regular job’ in addition to pastor duties makes him or her ‘more regular,’ it breaks down walls of superiority, it gives natural inroads for relationships in the community, it shows you’re as committed to the community as everyone else, it breaks down the clergy-laity walls, and so on.  Those reasons are very compelling to me as I consider this option.

Yet, as I wait for the phone to ring about a job I’ve applied for (even though I’m moving because I’ve accepted a job that can’t yet pay me), I wonder what others have experienced — and whether or not bi-vocational is mandatory for a community to be considered missional.

Carol Howard Merritt reflected on this issue as well at Christian Century recently.  She asked, “Should bi-vocational ministry be the new norm?”  In that article she ponders:

“As I think about the larger church, I often hear that bivocational ministry will be the reality for pastors entering the ministry. Our economic model is breaking down. It has become more difficult for a church with fifty households to support one pastor. Even when a minister is willing to live frugally, the cost of education and medical benefits keeps getting higher. So, many people jump to bivocational ministry as the answer.

That makes me pause. As someone who has been living in a bivocational reality for a while now, it would be good to have a long discussion about this and ask ourselves some important questions.”

She then asks:

•Are pastors truly nurturing two callings or are we baptizing a shift to part-time ministry? It is one thing to be called to two vocations but it’s another thing to suddenly pay your pastor part-time and expecting her to work bagging groceries on the side.

•Will this shift discourage younger pastors? Most mainline denominations have high expectations of their pastors. Which is good. We go through seminary requirements, ordination examinations, psychological testing, congregational internships, and clinical pastoral education. All of these requirements are costly and they made a lot of sense when people were entering a stable 30-year career with health insurance and pension. Does it still make sense to ask people to go through all of this while telling them that they’ll be lucky to get a part-time job at the end of it?

These are good and important questions.

I wonder:

Could it be that bi-vocational allows certain pastors to feel less guilty because they aren’t such a ‘drain on the budget’ of a smaller community?  Definitely.

Could it be that certain people need other outlets for their areas of giftedness, and these other vocations give them deep satisfaction?  Yes.

Could it also be that such outlets give them credibility with others?  I suppose so, though a pastor ought to have enough credibility for his or her clergy commitments.

I’m not sure we have this with other professions – but then again, perhaps the argument is that we shouldn’t have a professional clergy.  But then we ought to change our training model, expectations, and so on.  I do think this is happening at some level, but the kind of communities of faith we will have on the other side of such a shift remains to be seen.  I’m not sure how many are interested in moving to a completely lay model, where no one has theological or ministry training.

I have seen several friends attempt the bi-vocational path while also planting a church.  Neither of these churches exists any more.  There could be many reasons, but I suspect that having a leader who is spending at least half of his best hours working at a hardware store may not be the most ideal path.  In such a setting is he able to give the best he has to his community, which —especially in its embryonic form— relies upon such a leader/facilitator to get things in motion?  I’m sure there are some who can.  But should this be the norm?

Another person noted the personal and professional disaster that a bi-vocational approach created for him:

I was bi-vocational for 12 years. Honestly? I would never do it again. The amount of hours I put in to pastor and work a secular job hurt my family and eventually my health. It was part of the cause of going through divorce, and part of the wounds my children suffered thinking their father didn’t have time for them. Even though the wounds of my children have been healed, the loss of a marriage and the loss of health still remain. So, glamorize it as you will, which I did when I was young, but coming on age 50, as I look back, I would absolutely never do it again nor would I think it was the will of God.

I noted in a discussion of this elsewhere

“Bi-vocational sounds great, but I’ve also seen friends (and their communities) struggle mightily b/c their time, energy and focus is pulled in too many directions.

I’m a little concerned that there is this idea that “pastoring is so easy, why don’t you just get a real job? (And be an amazing speaker/planter/counselor/theologian/spiritual mentor/chaplain on top of it).”

I’m all for a flat ecclesiology—we’re all ministers, no hierarchy, the whole nine yards—but there are some challenges when you don’t have someone theologically educated and ministerially prepared, or, having such a person and expecting them to do it for free or for peanuts.”

We like to think that a genuine community can exist where we are all the same.  But we are not all the same. We have different gifts, and should use them accordingly.  My gift is not carpentry, so it would be silly for me to try to spend time fixing roofs during the week so that I’m not such a drain on the budget.  That doesn’t mean there aren’t options where I do have abilities to earn an income outside of the church, and I certainly am willing to explore those.

Someone posted recently seven jobs with full-time pay for part-time work as something pastors should look for.  I clicked on the link. The jobs included: veterinarian, acupuncturist, master plumber and physical therapist.  Sign me up!  Because I obviously became an expert in Eastern medicine, plumbing, and performing surgery on cats while studying church history and homiletics.

My gifts are in relationships, counseling, writing, thinking deeply about theological issues and creatively about ministry, preaching, studying the text in its original context and helping us make sense of it in our own.  These kinds of things would surely suffer if I spent half of my working hours bartending or accounting, or something else.

The church my wife and I started in Traverse City was the most missional, organic, non-hierarchical, communally-involved and led group I’ve ever been a part of, and it was my full-time job. We had an office inside a multi-use campus of buildings with a yoga studio, art galleries, coffee shops, cafés, wineries, accountants, environmentalists, filmmakers, bakers, and more. My ‘job’ involved hanging out in this place and rubbing shoulders with these people. In some ways I was the guy people could ‘go talk to’ if they had an issue, or the guy who could do your wedding or on-the-spot counseling, or be there simply to listen. Almost a campus-pastor, if you will, even though those people weren’t paying my salary. Yet my community felt it was missional to have someone like me available and present for our own people and the broader community we were naturally a part of. That felt pretty integrative and missional, and if I’d had to have spent half my time elsewhere earning my living, perhaps would have made less connections – and I’m not sure that that would have given me more credibility or made me more of an insider.

Was our faith community too reliant on me to make such connections? Perhaps. I don’t know. I’m simply exploring the question.

It is true that as a smallish community, we struggled to pay the bills, and I was the biggest expense.  But I wonder if we would have been what we were had I divided my time.

Extra hot fudge on that?

I’m willing to be wrong, but I also wonder if its unfair to think that pastors can use all their gifts, maintain a healthy family, healthy relationships, and facilitate a community in which everyone’s gifts are used, worship is communal, and missional involvement in the wider community is expected of everyone » while also making sundaes at Dairy Queen.

Maybe there is such a person.  Perhaps I’m about to find out.

—
Roots DCBryan is a pastor, writer, and church planter.  If you’re interested in learning about his new church in Washington DC, click here:
Roots DC: an urban faith community.

Sikh-ing Peace

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A Necessary Conversation

The recent shooting in Wisconsin at a Sikh Temple has many wondering if religiously-rooted violence is about to erupt, or if this is one of the dying gasps of intolerance as our world continues to become a more hospitable place.

I would like to lean toward the latter, but realize we have a long ways to go.My own experience in interfaith conversations, as highlighted in my new book, Pub Theology, is that we need to work toward listening and learning, rather than antagonizing.

A few comments by young people of various faith traditions highlight as much (from an article in the Huffington Post):

Hannah Shirey, Christian, New York, USA

Through the pain, I have been reminded of the deep gratitude I feel for my time spent at a Sikh NGO this last year.

As we move forward, I am inspired by Sikh scripture that calls devotees to “recognize the human race as one” and by Jesus of Nazareth’s famous words, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” In our differences and our pain we are all interconnected and we all are capable of being peace-builders.

Nomi Teutsch, Jewish, Jerusalem, Israel

The injunction to “love the stranger, for we were strangers in the land of Egypt” is one of the most central teachings of my Jewish faith. To me, this speaks to the connection that all minorities have to one another. We must not only feel hurt and anguish, but rather remember to transform those feelings into standing up for other groups in their times of need.

I spent the last year working at UNITED SIKHS along with Hannah Shirey, and I became more and more connected to Sikhi’s message of equality and openness each day. I pray that Sunday’s devastating events remind us all to get to know the strangers in our midst so that we may love them.

Sana Rahim, Muslim, Chicago, USA

On Aug. 5, ignorance and hatred materialized into a tragedy that will be etched in my memory for years to come. Last night, I went to my local gurdwara and stood in solidarity with the Sikh community as an American Muslim. While the Quran stipulates that our differences exist so that we “may come to know one another,” it is only when our friendships compel us to action that we truly begin to challenge the status quo.

Eric Farr, Bahá’í, Toronto, Canada

As a Bahá’í, I commit myself to helping usher in a day when people of every race and religion will look at each other with an understanding and protective love akin to what we feel for the members of our own family. I offer my sincere condolences and prayers for my brothers and sisters of the Sikh Faith affected by the tragic events of this past Sunday.

Immy Kaur, Sikh, Birmingham, UK

The last few years have seen me move from skeptical to utterly convinced about the need for interfaith interaction, friendship and shared experience. During this painfully difficult time as a community, I have been touched by the global outpouring of love and support towards the Sikh community. The state of Chardi Kala by the American Sikh organizations leaves me yet again in awe of my brothers and sisters across the shores.
—
An excerpt from the introduction of Pub Theology calls for this needed conversation together:

My argument in this book is simple: good things happen when we sit down at the same table together and talk honestly about things that matter — and frankly, having a beer doesn’t hurt. We don’t need to agree on whatever it is that we discuss — that isn’t even the point. The point is that we are all stuck here together on this planet (for the unforeseeable future) — and we might as well get to know each other while we’re here. My sense is that more and more people are hungry for this. People of all backgrounds are opening up about the broadness and diversity of thought and belief around them. And I sense that there is a growing desire for this among my fellow Christians as well. People are ready. Ready to see openness happen in their own lives and communities. Ready to move beyond fear to understanding. Ready to take a brave step forward in learning to live out their own faith honestly and with integrity in the increasingly pluralistic and global world we find ourselves in.

Here’s the good news. It’s happening. In conversation. At the pub. Over beer. From London to New York to Ann Arbor, people are gathering to communicate, connect, and learn from one another over the topic of religion and theology, of all things.

In the past we’ve typically assumed that if you want to find God, going to church is the place to go. I wonder if this is still the case. It seems to me that God is breaking out of churches everywhere. In fact, some would say that’s not the best place to find him. Given the places Jesus frequented, that shouldn’t surprise us (hint: he never went to church!). It turns out that a pub creates a perfect setting in which to encounter people who are interested in spiritual topics, philosophy, life, and — yes — theology, and they are open to being honest about it. For some, it even becomes a place to encounter God himself.

Let me be up front that I write this as a Christian. But I write in the hope that readers of any perspective, religious or not, might garner something from these pages. Further, my hope is that as you read you will encounter a shift toward a more chastened, humble, and inviting Christianity — one that will have a seat at the table in the important conversations our world is having.  Unless we are willing to first listen and make space for the other, we won’t be invited. Here you will find real life stories, real people, real questions — many gleaned from conversations and encounters during actual Pub Theology gatherings. These recollections will attempt to give flesh and bones to this needed shift.

Where is God?

Who is God?

What do other religions say?

What do those who’ve given up on God say?

Turns out agnostics, atheists, Buddhists, Hindus, humanists, Jews, Muslims, Wiccans and many others have wonderful traditions that have wrestled with these very questions for centuries. It’s time we start to listen. If you’re tired of pat answers that exclude wrestling and doubt while presuming certainty in the face of serious questions, welcome to the club. I wrestle with these issues in my own life. I wouldn’t be surprised if you do as well. I hope you’ll find encouragement and ideas here toward living out a more global faith.

—
How are you engaging those around you who have different ideas about God, faith, and life?  

Here’s to more good conversations.  We need them.

Pub Theology Topics, July 5 2012

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The book, the beer, the sheet

On a busy night in Traverse City, fresh off the Fourth of July and on the eve of the Cherry Festival, a few of us found our way to a pub for some reasonable conversation.  It was good to be back at Pub Theology tonight after a couple week hiatus.  The Saugatuck IPA was a welcome addition to the menu, and we had a good evening of discussion.

The topics:

1.    If you were stranded on a desert island and could only have one item, what would it be?

2.    Are all spiritual experiences legitimate?

3.    What is happiness?

4.    “The very meaningfulness of rational discourse depends on God, as everything depends on God.”

5.    If our world belongs to God, is the idea of private property a contradiction of this?

6.    Man exists in a state of distance from the world that he nonetheless remains in the midst of.
Can the distance be overcome?

7. What really matters?

We shared some experiences and perspectives, some sips and some tips.

Great stuff.

We also celebrated the arrival of Pub Theology, the book!  You can buy your copy locally at Brew, and soon at Horizon Books – both downtown.  You can join us at the Book Launch next week Thursday, July 12 at Brew, from 6-8pm, preceding our normal Pub Theology conversation.

In the meantime, share your thoughts on the above topics!

Wild Goose Recap!

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So, the family loaded in the van last week and headed for the hills (literally!) of North Carolina to attend the Wild Goose Festival.

What is the Wild Goose Festival?  New friend Milton described it this way:

“The festival [titled after a metaphor for Celtic Christianity] is self-described as one of spirituality, justice, music, and art. People came and camped in the woods and sang and talked and ate and looked for ways to connect. To me it felt like a cross between Woodstock and church youth camp. When I looked out over the field of participants, in most any direction I saw people who didn’t look like “church folks” who were lost in wonder, love, and grace. For these four days, they got to feel understood. “Normal.” None of us was asked to do more than be ourselves and welcome one another.

And it was good.”

Someone else called it: “A Sacred and Safe Space.”  I agree.  We arrived in Shakori Hills with a loaded up van, drove down a dusty road under a home-made banner with a  painted bird figure and the lettering for ‘Wild Goose’.

The welcome booth was a wooden shack with scenes from Where the Wild Things Are painted on it.

We set up our tent right in the center of activity – between a smaller tent venue labeled ‘Return’, and the main stage for the festival.  The theme of the festival was “Exile and Return”, so speaking/music event venues were named accordingly:  Shadow, Exile, Return, and so on.

We didn’t know what to expect, other than that we loved the concept, and were excited about some of the speakers and musicians slated to be there.

Let me tell you, this was a festival!

From the first talk we attended on Thursday afternoon — Tom Sine on co-living, intentional communities, and sustainability: “It is essential that we help people reimagine new ways to live. We need to discover creative, celebrative, simple ways of life that are more imaginative than the American Dream and cost less money.  And we need to do it together, in community” — to the final song by Gungor, “God makes beautiful things, he makes beautiful things out of dust.  God makes beautiful things, he makes beautiful things out of us,” we had an incredible time.  It was a time to imagine again what God longs for us and our world.

We met people from Pittsburgh, San Francisco, New York, Texas, Atlanta, Illinois, DC, and all over the country who are hungry for a new form of faith.

We heard Phyllis Tickle review the history of the church from Constantine and the fateful Edict of Milan to today, and the impact of the birth control pill on the future of the faith.  She noted that it is time to “return to the tent” — in other words, the place of the family and the home, where the stories of faith are told, shared, and lived out before the children and the next generation.  We heard Jim Wallis remind us that in the Capital power is the means and power is the ends, but that God’s way is powerlessness.  We heard Brian McLaren encourage us to engage those of other faiths while holding to our own with integrity (Pub Theology, anyone?).  We heard Dave Andrews, a community organizer from Australia encourage us to seek centered-set communities rather than closed-set communities.  He noted: “When we don’t trust the Spirit’s presence and leading, we create [unwittingly] all kinds of programs and plans and so on that actually become manipulative and oppressive.”  He reminded us that wherever we are going to serve and work we have to remember that God is already there — in that people we meet already are imbued with the image of God, and the Spirit is there ahead of us.  He also reminded that it is not so much we who bring Jesus, but that in fact, as we serve, we find that we are serving Jesus himself.

We heard great music from local artists as well as Over the Rhine, David Crowder, Gungor, Vince Anderson — Joey and the boys danced and played as the music filtered over us.

We wandered around and got to chat with Pete Rollins, Mark Scandrette, Phyllis Tickle, Lisa Sharon-Harper from Sojourners.  Had coffee with Brian McLaren and we mused together about our new adventure in Washington DC.  It really was as Frank Schaeffer noted in his own recap, Wild Goose Our Answer to Hate, in the Huffington Post:

“The names of the speakers  added up to a “draw” along with the big name musical performers. But the heart of the festival wasn’t in the events but in the conversations.

For me the highlight of the festival was the fact that there was no wall of separation between us speakers and performers and everyone there. I spent 4 days talking with lots of people from all over America and other places too, about ideas but also about very personal subjects. I met Ramona who was the cook at the Indian food stand and found she is ill and has no health insurance and I was able to connect her with a friend who knew a friend at the WG fest locally to help her get the full checkup she needs. I could do that because the festival was full of the sort of people who help, love and care so for once there was someone to call.”

The list of great things we experienced is hard for me to completely recall, there were so many things:

» Watched the first public reading of Pete Rollins’ new play before it shows in New York.

Drinking beer and discussing theology » Wild Goose Beer Tent

» Met a guy named Michael Camp, who just wrote a book about how his own faith and life was shaped by conversations at the pub: Confessions of a Bible Thumper: My Homebrewed Quest for a Reasoned Faith.  He was interested to hear about my own book on Pub Theology.

» Talked with Milton, a local UCC pastor who is teaching people about the importance of meal and eating together, and how all breaking of bread in some way embodies and reflects the meal we gather around as sacrament.

» Celebrated with friend Phil Snider, fellow Wipf and Stock author, over the publishing of our new books.  By the way, check his out: Preaching After God: Derrida, Caputo, and the Language of Postmodern Homiletics.

» Reconnected with friends met at the Church Planters Academy in Minneapolis: Mike Stavlund, Steve Knight, Susan Phillips, Victoria from Solomon’s Porch, and Rich McCullen, among others.

Was it all perfect?  No.  It was hot!  There were ticks.  There were a couple of long nights getting the kids to bed.  Some sessions didn’t connect like I had hoped.  But in all, it did not disappoint.

Those concerns were minor as we heartily sang hymns while sipping pints of local microbrew during a “Beer and Hymns” session, voices rising with verve (out of tune) with the accompaniment of a tattooed keyboardist.

I met Sean, the owner of Fullsteam Brewery in Durham, NC, after a session entitled: “The Theology of Beer,” which noted the importance of creation, place and celebration in a community, and how a good brewery can be at the heart of community life.  I shared our own experiences at Right Brain and he thought that was pretty cool.

The kids attended sessions where they made play-doh, created crafts, played games, and learned fun new songs: “I’m being eaten by a boa constrictor—and I don’t like it very much!”

We fell asleep each night, with our tent a stone’s throw from the main stage, to late night concerts and the sounds of celebration and conversation, music and singing.

In all, it was a total blast, and we imagined—as we joined the parade the final day, singing with faces painted, “When the Saints Go Marching In”—that when the Kingdom comes in its fullness, we’ve already had a taste.

Pub Theology Book Endorsements

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More endorsements on my upcoming book, Pub Theology, in addition to those on the back cover.

“Some of the best theological conversations happen over a beer at the pub. Bryan Berghoef captures something of the relaxed and relational dynamic that makes these discussions so pleasurable, while at the same time wrestling with serious theological questions. So pull up a chair, order your favorite drink, and settle in with this delightful and stimulating book. Invite a friend as well—the conversation’s just getting started.”

—John R. Franke, author of Manifold Witness: The Plurality of Truth

—

“This is a book about God’s freedom and ours! Bryan Berghoef invites us to pull up a chair and dares us to converse about what matters. No fear! This engrossing and transformative story about how to live an open Christian life will save, stir, and strengthen the faith of many.”

—Samir Selmanovic, author of It’s Really All About God: How Islam, Atheism, and Judaism Made Me a Better Christian

And from the back cover:

“Pub Theology is a wonderful, whimsical, and wise story about what happens when a pastor with more questions than answers goes to the pub instead of church.”

—John Suk, author of Not Sure: A Pastor’s Journey from Faith to Doubt and former editor of The Banner

—

“Bryan Berghoef has given us the most complete presentation to date of what pub theology is, why it exists, and what it contributes to the lives and faiths of an increasing number of Christians. With his conversationally written and accessible reportage, he has also created something close to a manual for those who want to initiate a pub theology circle or simply find and join one.”

—Phyllis Tickle, author of The Great Emergence: How Christianity Is Changing and Why 

Just found out the price will be $18 paperback and $9.99 Kindle version.  Should be available for order in either version by the end of the week at latest (UPDATE: It’s up! Order today!).  (There will be a discount on the paperback if you order directly from the publisher).

Will have a flyer available to show around at the Wild Goose Festival this weekend as well.

Order one today for yourself, and maybe one for a friend!

Saving Institutions 2

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Recently Andrew Sullivan noted that “Christianity is in crisis” and encouraged readers to simply follow Jesus and leave church, institution, and organized religion behind.  Forget the church.  Follow Jesus.

Many sympathize with this impulse, as noted in my most recent post.

What, after all, do institutions have to offer us other than a slow process, outdated organization, and mired traditionalism?

Diana Butler Bass, despite her critiques of the institutional church, notes that perhaps things are not as dire as Sullivan imagines.

In a recent column, she noted:

Three deceptively simple questions are at the heart of a spiritually vibrant Christianity–questions of believing, behaving, and belonging.

Religion always entails the “3B’s” of believing, behaving, and belonging. Over the centuries, Christianity has engaged the 3B’s in different ways, with different interrogators and emphases. For the last 300 years or so, the questions were asked as follows:

1) What do I believe? (What does my church say I should think about God?)
2) How should I behave? (What are the rules my church asks me to follow?)
3) Who am I? (What does it mean to be a faithful church member?)

But the questions have changed. Contemporary people care less about what to believe than how they might believe; less about rules for behavior than in what they should do with their lives; and less about church membership than in whose company they find themselves. The questions have become:

1) How do I believe? (How do I understand faith that seems to conflict with science and pluralism?)
2) What should I do? (How do my actions make a difference in the world?)
3) Whose am I? (How do my relationships shape my self-understanding?)

The foci of religion have not changed–believing, behaving, and belonging still matter. But the ways in which people engage each area have undergone a revolution.

As Sullivan rightly points out, political partisanship has exacerbated the crisis of Christianity. But the crisis is much deeper than politics. Much of institutional Christianity is mired in the concerns of the past, still asking what, how, and who when a new set of issues of how, what, and whose are challenging conventional conceptions of faith. The old faith formulations were externally based, questions that could be answered by appealing to a book, authority, creed, or code. The new spiritual longings are internally derived, questions of engagement, authenticity, meaning, and relationship. The old questions required submission and obedience; the new questions require the transformation of our souls.

Far too many churches are answering questions that few people are asking. This has left millions adrift, seeking answers to questions that religious institutions have largely failed to grasp.

But this may be changing. Around the edges of organized religion, the exile Christians have heard the questions and are trying to reform, reimagine, and reformulate their churches and traditions. They are birthing a heart-centered Christianity that is both spiritual and religious. They meet in homes, at coffeehouses, in bars–even in some congregations. They are lay and clergy, wise elders and idealistic hipsters. Some teach in colleges and seminaries. They even hold denominational positions. Not a few have been elected as bishops. The questions are rising from the grassroots up–and, in some cases, the questions are reaching a transformational tipping point.

The crisis is real. Like Andrew Sullivan, I feel its sad and frustrating urgency. But I also know the hope of possibility, for every crisis bears the promise of something new. Endings are also beginnings. Indeed, without death, resurrection is impossible. Imaginative, passionate, faith-filled people are enacting a new-old faith with Jesus and are working to change wearied churches. It is the season of resurrection, and resurrections always surprise.

I would like to share her hope, and that is one of the reasons I continue to work within a denominational context – there are many voices encouraging us to live into this new era of faith and searching, to authentically understand, experience, and embody our faith.

Sullivan notes that Christianity is failing — and failing fast.

Sullivan wonders what–if anything–might come next. He identifies a saint–Francis–as a model for renewal based on “humility, service, and sanctity.” But he also likes a philosopher–Thomas Jefferson–as one who charted a reasonable and moral Christian path. Weaving together spirituality and reason, Sullivan holds out for a resurrected Christianity.

However, he does not know how this might happen: “I have no concrete idea how Christianity will wrestle free of its current crisis.” He intuits that a new Christianity must arise, “not from the head or the gut, but from the soul.” That faith will come through a “new questioning,” by addressing concerns that initiate “radical spiritual change.” But his questions remain somewhat vague, and his answers vaguer.

So is the church finished?  Will the new Christianity be free of institutional baggage?

Butler Bass isn’t so sure:

What Sullivan apparently does not know is that some Christians, from pews, pulpits, and classrooms are asking the right questions–and are working toward a spiritually renewed and intellectually credible Christianity. These new questioners make up what I call America’s “exile” faith communities–the creative but often ignored Christians found in liberal mainline churches, emergent evangelical gatherings, and progressive Catholic circles. With growing awareness over the last two decades, they have been engaging this crisis, listening to the grassroots questions of American religious life, and constructing new patterns and practices of faith.

That is my experience as well, particularly reinforced after a recent church planting conference at Solomon’s Porch where I encountered Lutherans, Presbyterians, Disciples of Christ, Episcopalians and many, many others living out their faith in new denominational communities.  New life is springing out of the old, yet much work remains.

I asked this question in my last post, and ask it again:  what about you?  What constitutes living, breathing, authentic spirituality?  What role does church or institution play in that?  Does it get in the way?  Is it irrelevant?  Does it have a place?

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