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A Philly Priest Visits Pub Theology DC

May 31, 2013 Beer, Church, Practices, Pub Theology, Relationships, Theology, Travels Comments are closed

Guest post by Fr. Kirk Berlenbach, rector of St. Timothy’s Episcopal Church in the Roxborough neighborhood of Philadelphia. He has been facilitating the parish beer club (The Franklin Club) since 2007. Originally posted at So This Priest Walks Into a Bar.

WASHINGTON DC – One of the great things about the internet is that, no matter how obscure your interest or hobby, the net allows you the chance to seek out and connect with other people who are just as off kilter. When I began to take this whole faith and beer thing more seriously one of the first things I tried to do was see who else out there might be doing it too. I was pleased to find I was not alone in the universe. I came across and have since corresponded with a couple of kindred souls.

Among them are guys like Michael Camp, author of Confessions of a Bible Thumper: My Homebrewed Quest for a Reasoned Faith, which is next up on my reading list. Another book on the subject is Diary of a Part Time Monk by J. Wilson which I just finished reading. I referenced J’s quest to emulate the monks of old in this post. In short, he attempted to follow the Lenten discipline of monks who fasted existing only on their dopplebock. The book is his account of this remarkable experience.

Then there is Bryan Berghoef. When I finished reading his book, Pub Theology, I knew we had to at least correspond. We hit it off and found we had a lot in common, not just in terms of our love of beer but also in terms of our approach to ministry and the Church’s need to find new ways to connect with the ever increasing “spiritual but not religious” population. We discussed the idea of a visit but never got around to making specific plans.

Then, a few months ago I got the bright idea to do an event on the whole “beer-faith connection” as part of this year’s Philly Beer Week. (more on this in next week’s post). Anyway, when I was thinking through other clergy who could work with me on this event, Bryan was on the short list. I contacted him and he was very excited at the possibility. But I thought it was important to meet the man I was going to work with. Moreover, I wanted to see an example of one of his “Pub Theology” sessions up close and personal.

So last week I took the train down to DC. Bryan met me at the station and we headed off to the pub where that night’s conversation would take place. The whole concept of Pub Theology is “Beer, Conversation, God.” The gathering is open to anyone who wishes to attend and the topics are sent out a few days ahead of time. On the heels of the massive Oklahoma tornado the topic included God’s role in natural disasters, as well as more abstract topics like, “Was there a time before time?” and “Scientists say dark matter is inferred, not seen. Can you call that faith?”

We talked over burgers and beers and then made our way to the back part of the bar to wait and see who would show up. Over time the group grew to a very respectable 15 people. Many were members of Bryan’s new church planting project, Roots DC. Others were visitors and one was a local clergy colleague. People’s perspectives varied, greatly (and thanks to the presence of a young woman from South Sudan, also went beyond just an American lens) and at least one person was by openly an atheist.

As the conversation progressed and folks ordered their 2nd or third beer, people definitely became more vocal. Yet a no time was there a hint of disrespect or even frustration.

What Bryan has built here is no small accomplishment. To create an environment where people, many of whom are strangers, can speak openly and honestly about the deeper issues of life is quite extraordinary. As I have reflected on this I began to see the genius of Bryan’s concept. While such a group could take place over coffee or in a park, the setting of the bar is really critical to its success.

Where else but in a bar can friends, acquaintances and strangers all engage impassioned debate yet still remain not just civil but even jovial? Now it is true that often times those debates are about how the manager is mishandling the bullpen and not dark matter. But there are many times I have heard focused discussion about politics, God and the meaning of life coming from the other end of the bar or the next table.

It seems to me that if the bar is indeed the new Forum, then Bryan has indeed hit upon a valuable insight into how the Church can connect with the world outside its walls. The key lies first in a willingness to go out to where the people are rather than insisting that they come to us. But just as important is the setting. In order to get people talking about what they really believe about God and what truly matters in life, then you can’t do much better than your local pub. And, at least in my opinion, the best way to start any meaningful conversation is over a good pint.

So here’s to Bryan and Pub Theology and the rediscovery of a great way to talk about God and all things that matter most.

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You can read Kirk’s latest thoughts at So This Priest Walks Into a Bar: Beer, Music, and a Thirst for God, or find him enjoying a craft beer somewhere in Philadelphia.

Every Bush is Burning

May 20, 2013 Books, Practices, Theology Comments are closed

Discerning Authentic Spiritual Experience

In Exodus 3, Moses was having an average day: tending the flock, hanging out in the desert. But then, the text notes, “he led the flock to the far side of the desert.” And there he has the profound and epic experience of meeting God in a bush. We spent some time on this passage in a recent gathering of Roots DC, the faith community I’m a part of here in DC. In the text, Moses is told to take off his sandals, for “the place where you are standing is holy ground.”

This led to some discussion: what made that ground special? What was the significance of taking off his shoes? At what point in this experience did Moses realize that it was more than just an oddity of nature, that God was meeting him there?

This led to further ponderings on divine encounters or spiritual experiences in general: what are they like? How do you know when (or if) you are having one? When to believe someone else’s account of such an experience?

I recently came across some helpful guidelines by Gerald May, whose work I’ve come across since I’ve begun working at the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation, a center for developing contemplative spiritual practice and leadership. May practiced medicine and psychiatry for twenty-five years before becoming a senior fellow in contemplative theology and psychology at Shalem.

May notes that when someone speaks of having an encounter with the Divine, we wonder: Is this “real” or is it an illusion contrived by ego?

In having this discussion, he reminds us that the line between reality and illusion can be very close: “Because our minds continually create images of reality through our senses and conditioning, it would be true to say that all experience is at least somewhat psychologically contrived.”

In other words, all of our experiences in life have a psychological component, whether it be chatting around the coffeepot at work, checking the mail, or a profound spiritual encounter.

He outlines eight qualities that can be useful in judging whether a spiritual experience is authentic, while noting “our experiences cannot be based on content alone”, but “must be integrated in the larger picture of life: in context, in community, and over time.”

I found these eight points very helpful, so here they are:

Meaningful Integration. Authentic spiritual experiences do not exist as isolated “highs.” They occur within the context of real life and are integrated in a way that is meaningful for both individual and community. Authentic experiences may contain a perfect end-in-itself quality, but they still have meaning and impact on life.
Bearing Good Fruit. Authentic spiritual experiences lead to good effects for individual and community. Classically, this includes deepened faith, hope, trust, compassion, creativity, and love. Authentic experiences do not lead to privatism or destructiveness.
Decreased Self-Preoccupation. Authentic experiences lead people to feel more identified with and open to the rest of humanity and the world. Experiences that lead to feelings of being more special or better than other people, or to self-absorption, are probably not authentic.
Self Knowledge. Authentic experiences lead to a greater understanding of oneself. Signs of repression, denial, or shutting out of self-awareness indicate a lack of authenticity.
Humility. Authentic experiences lead to a particular kind of humility, one that painfully recognizes more of one’s human inadequacy, yet at the same time increasingly realizes one’s won preciousness and worth as a child of God. It is a humility that is combined with dignity. This is in contrast to experiences that lead either to arrogance or devaluing of oneself.
Openness to Differences. By deepening trust in the power and goodness of God, authentic experiences lead to less defensiveness about one’s own faith and increased respect for and openness to dialogue with people of differing faiths [or perspectives]. Authentic experiences may lead to a desire to share the truth, but they do not result in defensive or aggressive clinging to one’s own understanding.
Open-endedness. Authentic spiritual experiences contain a quality of further invitation: deepened yearning, inspired energy, continued growth and healing. In contrast, experiences that communicate a sense of “having arrived” are cause for suspicion.
Ordinariness. Although authentic experiences may initially be accompanied by celebration and enthusiasm or by fear and trepidation, their integration brings a quality of wondrous appreciation of the ordinary; life is holy, and the miraculous presence of God’s grace flows through all of it. Experiences that lead to a strong separation of the holy from the mundane must be questioned.

Gerald May closes with this thought: “If there is one basic factor that distinguishes authentic from inauthentic experience, it can be found in a paraphrase of John of the Cross: In the end, all of us—and all of our experiences—must be judged on the basis of one thing, and that is love.” (Gerald May’s guidelines quoted in Holy Meeting Ground: 20 Years of Shalem)

Sometimes we long for such a deep, powerful experience as Moses had with the bush in the desert. We wonder why God hasn’t met us in such a powerful way. Yet perhaps such an experience is nearer to us than we think.

John Philip Newell is a poet, scholar, and teacher of the Celtic tradition from Scotland. He recently visited the DC region for the two day Gerald May Seminar held by the Shalem Institute, an annual event which seeks to carry on the legacy of May’s life and teaching. He spoke on the connection between earth awareness and contemplative practice, noting that there is a profound and deep connection between matter and spirit that perhaps we’ve forgotten. He puts it this way, in his recent book A New Harmony: The Spirit, The Earth, and The Human Soul:

In the story of Moses and the burning bush, in which the Living Presence is revealed in the words “I am who I am” or “I will be what I will be,” Moses is told to take off his shoes, for the ground on which he is standing is holy. He is told to uncover the soles of his feet, a place of deep knowing in the human form. Think of walking barefoot in the grass. Think of placing our bare feet into the coolness of a refreshing stream. When we do so, we see in a new way. Doors of perception are opened in us. Rabbi Nahum, in teaching on this passage from Torah, likes to say that the important aspect of this story is not that the bush is burning, but that Moses notices. For every bush is burning. Every bush is aflame with the Living Presence. The “fiery power,” as Hildegard puts it, is hidden in everything that has being.

An encounter with the divine may be nearer than you think. The title of Newell’s chapter from which I quoted? Every Bush is Burning. The question is: have you paused to notice? Have you made space in your busy life? Maybe it’s time to go for a walk. And don’t forget: leave the shoes at home.

Of Gulls and Men

February 20, 2013 Books, Church, Practices, Readings, Worship Comments are closed

Flock_of_Seagulls

A Reflection for Lent

I read Tortilla Flat by John Steinbeck recently. There’s this terrific moment when one of the main characters, Pilon, has a sacred encounter with sea gulls:

“These birds are flying across the forehead of the Father. Dear birds, dear sea gulls, how I love you all. Your slow wings stroke my heart as the hand of a gentle master strokes the full stomach of a sleeping dog, as the hand of Christ stroked the heads of little children. Dear birds,” he thought, “fly to our Lady of Sweet Sorrows with my open heart.”

And then he said the loveliest words he knew, “Ave Maria, gratia plena –”

There was, nor is, nor ever has been a purer soul than Pilon’s at that moment… A soul washed and saved is a soul doubly in danger, for everything in the world conspires against such a soul. “Even the straws under my knees,” says Saint Augustine, “shout to distract me from prayer.”

Pilon’s soul was not even proof against his own memories; for, as he watched the birds, he remembered that Mrs. Pastano used sea gulls sometimes in her tamales, and that memory made him hungry, and hunger tumbled his soul out of the sky. Pilon moved on, once more a cunning mixture of good and evil.”

We looked at Jesus in the desert at our house church gathering this past Sunday, and noted how this episode of temptation came right after a high point: his baptism in the Jordan River. Is this paradigmatic of human life? Are we most vulnerable when we’ve just come through a profound spiritual moment?

Lent is a season to consider new spiritual practices, or to incorporate some new habits. Yet, as Augustine notes, even our best intentions are easily undone by distractions shouting at us from around and beneath us. This is probably true these days as ever, amid Facebook notifications, Twitterfeeds, and busy schedules. But that also makes this season of Lent as needed as ever.

In the coming weeks, we might do well to intentionally spend some time in the straw, adding a new spiritual discipline or practice, while paying attention to what it is that distracts us from these higher pursuits.

And who knows, perhaps a moment of sublimity such as Pilon knew will come our way.

Just watch out for Mrs. Pastano’s tamales.

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Bryan Berghoef writes and tweets from the nation’s capital. His book: Pub Theology: Beer, Conversation, and God invites you to engage in deep conversations over a good beer. You can follow Bryan on Twitter @bryberg.

Think You’ve Got it? Think Again

February 15, 2013 Philosophy, Practices, Pub Theology, Theology Comments are closed

disagree

On the Problem With Agreement and Disagreement

A guest post by Peter Rollins (originally posted at peterrollins.net)

One of the things that I often see in discussions concerning some thinker is the use of the phrases “agree” and “disagree.” For instance, in relation to my own work I often see phrases like, “I agree with much of what says,” “I don’t agree with everything” or “I disagree with…”

These terms can initially seem like evidence of critical thinking (i.e. someone is willing to critically affirm or question what they are reading), yet these terms are actually more symptomatic of uncritical thought. The reason lies in the way in which these terms imply that the individual is taking the material and simply comparing it with what they already believe is correct. Insofar as what is heard or read corresponds with the persons own position they affirm it and where it differs they reject it.

Something that one learns quickly in a first year philosophy class is the need to suspend this attitude of agreement and disagreement so that we might enter into the world of the philosopher we are reading and let their vision impact our own.

While reading a thinker the question, “where do I agree or disagree with them,” effectively domesticates them and acts as a defense against the possibility of their work actually vacillating our existing paradigm. By vacillating our existing paradigm I mean the experience where one remains within ones intellectual frame, while experiencing it as a frame.

This is a vital experience in the critical process for we need to be exposed to other thinking in order to gain a vantage point over our own way of seeing the world; all the while avoiding the fantasy of being able to step outside of it.

To understand the process we can compare it to being immersed in watching a movie on an old TV set. Imagine that, half way through the film, the screen shakes. At such a moment we gain a distance from the movie while still watching it. We are then reminded of its status as a movie. In the same way the intellectual process involves allowing another to vacillate our paradigm (something apologetics courses are fundamentally set up to avoid). This process involves entering the others world and asking, “where would this thinker agree and disagree with me?”

By doing this one enters into a properly antagonistic relation with the thinker, a relation that is more likely to lead to a development and deepening of ones own thoughts.

—
Peter Rollins is a widely sought after writer, lecturer, storyteller and public speaker. He is the author of the much talked about How (Not) to Speak of God. His most recent work is entitled The Idolatry of God.

Linger here and reflect

December 15, 2012 Culture, Politics, Practices Comments are closed

sandy-hook-elementary-school-shooting — Tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School on December 14, 2012

Heaven on Earth
We need it now
I’m sick of all of this
Hanging around

Sick of sorrow
I’m sick of the pain
I’m sick of hearing
Again and again
That there’s gonna be
Peace on Earth
–U2, Peace on Earth

Some have accused me of insensitivity due to my FB posting yesterday in which I highlighted what had occurred the day before in my home state of Michigan:

“LANSING — Changes to the concealed weapons law passed the state House and Senate late Thursday, allowing gun owners to carry their weapons in formerly forbidden places, such as schools, day care centers, stadiums and churches.”

Some said it was too soon to talk about these kinds of issues.

Some said I was out of bounds for “making this political.”

Some accused me of being insensitive or narrowing this down to one issue. (because a single FB post clearly defines everything I think about a subject)

First of all, let me say that as a parent of four children, all of whom are the right age to attend Sandy Hook, and who just spent their first week in an urban public school, I was devastated to hear of this incident, and I am absolutely sick about it. I have no idea how I am going to drop off my four little precious ones on Monday, and say, “See you soon.” I am sure all parents feel the same way.

Yesterday was a day for grieving. So is today, and the day after that.

But is it not appropriate to begin to wonder: what has to change? How can we avoid situations like this?

I get that people got angry at me. I get that we’re all a bit angry. But seriously, is it really worth getting angry at those who wonder: “What if this guy didn’t have guns?”

Arm Yourselves

Some are sure the answer is not less guns, but more.

We need more people trained to use guns in our schools. Like teachers and school administrators. More guns in our schools.

We ourselves should arm ourselves, because who knows, someone could break into our homes and threaten our own families. More guns in our homes.

The question is: What kind of society do we want to have? What kind of people do we want to be?

The argument that we need more guns, and more people trained to use them boils down to: then we can kill, before we get killed.

They may, in fact, be right. This strategy may well have some level of effectiveness. It may even be the most effective strategy.

Again I ask: What kind of society do we want to have? What kind of people do we want to be?

Perhaps we need to admit that we live in a sick society, and just increase weapon proliferation to deal with the issue. “It’s effective.” “I’ll feel safer.”

But do we really want a society in which there are more of these weapons that can be unleashed across a schoolroom full of unsuspecting children?

And for me the more poignant question is: do I really want to become someone who has to be trained to kill someone else, as the answer to reducing violence?

What happened to making this a broader issue than just guns? (Those who are angry at mention of gun control but turn around and say we need more guns are also talking about: gun control. Just less of it.)

To me, this stems from a lack of imagination, and a lack of hope.

Let’s Talk About Training

I’d rather be trained in being a good parent.

I’d rather be trained in connecting with my neighbors.

I’d rather be trained in getting involved in my neighborhood school, getting to know the kids, the families, the moms, the dads, the challenges, etc.

I’d rather have others who are trained in mental health issues and counseling accessible to those who need their services and expertise.

I’d rather train my kids to deal with emotional and social issues in a healthy manner.

I’d rather train my kids to be discerning consumers of media.

I’d rather be a person who is trained to love, than one who is trained to kill (even in self-defense).

(And this is just me, I get that we do need some folks like that, but I bristle at the suggestion that we all become like that.)

A Question of Efficiency?

Call me naïve on this. Call me ignorant or even Amish when it comes to guns. Not a big fan.

They kill people. Ah, but you say, guns don’t kill people, people kill people.

Well that’s fine and good.

But as James Fallows noted yesterday in The Atlantic:

“Guns don’t attack children; psychopaths and sadists do. But guns uniquely allow a psychopath to wreak death and devastation on such a large scale so quickly and easily. America is the only country in which this happens again — and again and again. You can look it up.”

And also, as I’m sure you’ve heard, there was an outbreak of violence at a school in China yesterday as well, and because there was a knife, instead of a gun, all of those children are alive today. Though, it has been pointed out to me that knives can kill people too. But does anyone seriously want to compare assault rifles to utensils?

Guns make it way too easy. Pulling a trigger can happen with a momentary brain lapse. Killing someone with a knife or spoon takes some serious want-to, and generally hurts one person at a time, not an entire classroom.

But you say, more trained gun carriers will indeed make us safer. It’s the most efficient way forward.

Again, perhaps.

Or perhaps not.

Consider this article, which came out in September:

In the wake of the slaughters this summer at a Colorado movie theater and a Sikh temple in Wisconsin, we set out to track mass shootings in the United States over the last 30 years. We identified and analyzed 61 of them, and one striking pattern in the data is this: In not a single case was the killing stopped by a civilian using a gun. Moreover, we found that the rate of mass shootings has increased in recent years—at a time when America has been flooded with millions of additional firearms and a barrage of new laws has made it easier than ever to carry them in public. And in recent rampages in which armed civilians attempted to intervene, they not only failed to stop the shooter but also were gravely wounded or killed.

America has long been heavily armed relative to other societies, and our arsenal keeps growing.

There is no evidence indicating that arming Americans further will help prevent mass shootings or reduce the carnage, says Dr. Stephen Hargarten, a leading expert on emergency medicine and gun violence at the Medical College of Wisconsin. To the contrary, there appears to be a relationship between the proliferation of firearms and a rise in mass shootings.

And armed civilians attempting to intervene are actually more likely to increase the bloodshed, says Hargarten, “given that civilian shooters are less likely to hit their targets than police in these circumstances.”

For the sake of argument, let’s say that more trained gunowners is the most efficient solution to avoiding disasters like occurred yesterday. Are we ceding that violence is the answer? Is efficiency our highest goal? And is becoming potential killers ourselves really the place we want to be?

“We need to become those trained to kill so that others don’t kill us.”

Kill or be killed, isn’t that what Jesus said?

Or was it: “those who live by the sword, die by the sword.” I also seem to recall an ancient prophetic dream that one day swords would be beaten into plowshares, and war and fighting would be no more.

Ah… but you say, “That is way in the future.”

For now, you say, let’s eschew the Psalmist’s call to trust in the Lord rather than in horses and armies (or firearms and munitions), and arm ourselves for the sake of the children.

After all, Jesus was a bit naïve about the whole “sword thing” and the whole “turning the other cheek” idea. Look where it got him.

As followers of his, surely we are much wiser.

Carry the weapons, shoot first, and trust in God later.

“If someone broke into your home and threatened your children, wouldn’t you rather be able to shoot and kill them?”

What kind of society do we want to have? What kind of people do we want to be?

Linger here and reflect

I live in Washington DC. I don’t own a gun. Call me Amish, a wishful-thinker, or naïve… Or maybe just a bad parent. Speaking of which, we went for a walk with the kids last night in an area garden decorated with Christmas lights, and came across a memorial to those who died at the hands of the DC-area sniper back in 2002.

And we saw this stone:

linger_here

“Linger here and reflect on those lost to violence.
Hope for a more peaceful world.
Seek a reverence for life among all people.”

Amen.

There are no easy answers. This is not a one-issue situation. We all have some long and hard thinking to do about it.

But should that stop us from dreaming?

What if we tried to enact the prophetic dream now, and gave up our obsession with violence? What if we didn’t wait for someone else to beat the pistols into plowshares, but set the example ourselves?

What’s the worst that could happen?

Ask Jesus.

Pub Theology Recap – Oct 11, 2012

October 12, 2012 Beer, Practices, Pub Theology, Relationships, The Text, Theology Comments are closed

We had a great turnout last night at Harmony Brewing Company, in Eastown, Grand Rapids. This little brewery has been open since February, and features a cozy atmosphere, spins some good tunes (last night was Vinyl Thursday), and brews up some great offerings.

A few of us started off with Jackson’s Joy Fall Festival Ale, which was a good, if a bit sweet, oktoberfest-style ale. Others jumped in with the Hideout IPA, which was a stand-in for the usual Fiddlestix IPA. My favorite on their board is the Star Stuff Belgian Dubbel. The Black Squirrel Porter was unfortunately also tapped out.

About a dozen of us squeezed in together in the upper-level, a small, quiet space of about 10 or 12 tables. A couple familiar faces, a few Pub Theology first-timers, and some regulars made for a great discussion.

The sheet had the following topics:

1. True or False: the better you can articulate what you believe, the more spiritually mature you are.

2. How do certain [spiritual] practices open you up to new possibilities?

3. Is there a difference between the Word of God & the words of scripture?

4. Is it ever wrong to try to convert someone from one religion to another?

5. What’s the difference between Christian education and indoctrination?

6. Is a believer [ontologically] different from a nonbeliever?

starstuffview — Getting to the bottom of things.

We kicked off the evening on the first topic, and there was immediate push back to the notion that ‘spiritual maturity’ is linked to the ability to speak well about one’s beliefs.

Immediate counter-examples were offered: an older person who has a wisdom and maturity about him but is not a good source for systematic theology; a mother who lives in a way that bespeaks spiritual maturity (it was noted that there is more than one way to articulate things, we shouldn’t limit it to verbal articulation).

Another person thought the whole notion of ‘spiritual maturity’ was dubious. “Doesn’t that whole idea speak of having arrived? Does one ever arrive? Isn’t spiritual maturity that thing you strive for but never reach?”

We then mused about whether the church often falls into the trap of equating these two things: articulation and maturity. In my own tradition, it’s when you can say what you believe, when you can give the right answers, that we acknowledge that you have reached at least some level of spiritual achievement that you weren’t at before. Perhaps there are other means for evaluating faith — in fact I’m sure there are, and I think many of us are wanting to think more holistically about what it means to grow in one’s faith, beyond just words.

At the same time, someone noted that if you can’t at a basic level explain what you believe, perhaps you have some work to do. Fair enough.

The second topic had us discussing the various practices that lead to spiritual growth, and open one up to new possibilities, new ways of experiencing God, or living into one’s experience of God. Things like prayer, meditation, Scripture reading were mentioned, as well as getting involved in justice issues like poverty, slave trade, etc. “My faith is deepened as I seek to live among those who are marginalized in our society.”

One person noted that in his own very evangelical tradition, spiritual maturity equaled the ability to share the gospel with someone else: “How many people have you led to Christ?”

This led us naturally into topic no. 4: Is it ever wrong to convert someone to another religion?

There was some hesitation. It was initially noted that there are certainly wrong ways to share one’s faith: the in-your-face model, the used-car-salesman-routine, the forcing-awkward-family-relationships routine. Yet some felt, if eternal things are at stake – how could it be wrong to convert someone?

Then one person at the end of the table piped up: “Absolutely. There are times it is flat out wrong to disrespect someone else’s culture and religion by trying to convert them. I have friends in Buddhist and Hindu countries and I don’t think it would be right at all to go in there and try to convert them. I plan on seeing my Muslim and Buddhist friends in heaven. But maybe that means I’m not a real Christian.”

This provocative perspective made some uncomfortable while others cheered. What do you think?

We ended the evening on topic no.3: Is there a difference between the Word of God and the words of scripture?

This took us many places, but we began by looking at the perspective that there are two books in which God speaks to us – one, the book of the Bible, the other, the book of creation. It was noted that in a recent NPR story a person from a more evangelical background noted that someone could not believe in evolution and be a Christian. “This drives me crazy! How can we not be willing to find God in the world he has made, even if that forces us to reconsider some of our [long-held] theological positions?”

We then wondered about extrabiblical books, other gospels, the apocrypha, and so on. Are these ‘God’s Word’ in any sense? How does canon come into play, and should we restrict the Holy Spirit to speaking only through what ‘made it in’? And what about other traditions that include other books? Or what about books that were left out, were those for spiritual or political reasons, or some other reason altogether? Finally we wondered, what about words in the Scriptures themselves that portray God in a less than flattering light. Are these too the “Word of God”, or are there instances in the canon where we see humanity struggling to understand God, and perhaps not always getting it right? This latter line of thinking made several mutter “Marcion” under their breath, and made plenty nervous. Others felt these were legitimate questions that we should be able to ask.

In the end, it was a great night. Good beer, new relationships, honest conversation. All agreed that the pub is a place to have these open and honest conversations, to have our thinking pushed, and to recognize that God just might be bigger than we’ve thought. (And of course we ended in plenty of time to watch the Detroit Tigers beat the Oakland A’s behind the arm of Justin Verlander!).

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Feel free to weigh in on any of the above topics in the comment section below!

Why Conservative Churches Attract Young People… or Not

October 7, 2012 Church, Culture, Practices, Relationships, Theology, Worship Comments are closed

Song — “Catch my conservative drift there? No? Too much? Let’s take it again from the top.”

A fellow pastor recently wrote a recent column entitled, “Why Conservative Churches Attract Young People.” My interest was immediately piqued, as someone who is also interested in helping people of all ages cultivate their spiritual lives, including ‘young people.’

In the post, Aaron Vriesman, who pastors a church on the north side of Holland, Michigan, begins: “As a 33 year-old minister in the CRC, I can say with both personal and professional experience that conservative churches do indeed draw young adults. In particular, churches that have a self-consciously high view of Scripture, a commitment to the creeds and confessions, traditional stances on marriage and sexuality, and work to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ actually do draw young adults.”

I have no doubt that this is the case. He goes on to note some of the reasons, some of which I agree with, and some of which I might view from a slightly different angle.

To provoke thought, the article is prefaced with:
“Why would young adults be attracted to conservative churches? Aren’t young adults more educated and scientific in their view of the world? Aren’t young adults more accepting of premarital sex and gay relationships? Aren’t young adults more interested in communities of dialogue than cold hard doctrine?”

prayer-during-worship-service — That’s more like it.

I’ll let you read his reasons in full, so that I’m not taking any parts of this out of context. (quotes italicized)

Young adults want authenticity. All people, but young people especially, appreciate people who are up front about who they are and what they are about. As advertisements everywhere attempt to lure people into spending money with attractive images and promises, young people are constantly being played. Give it to me straight. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me where you stand and then I can form my own opinion. Don’t be a jerk about it, but at least be honest. Some churches shy away from Bible passages that might offend certain groups or avoid verses about God’s judgment because it makes God appear unloving. Conservative churches with a higher view of Scripture are not shy about anything the Bible says. They will read and preach on the uncomfortable Bible texts. Even those that equate divorce with adultery, tell wives to submit to husbands and spell out horrifying disaster for sinners. Since conservative churches are not worried about political correctness of any kind, they present the true God and Jesus Christ in all authenticity, with (what some would say) “warts” and all. Even if some young adults disagree with what they hear, they usually respect a straightforward message without spin.
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My response. I agree, young adults want authenticity. Aaron correctly notes that our culture has much shallow, get-your-attention-and-your-dollars gimmicky stuff going on. Something deeper and more substantive does indeed have a certain draw.He notes, “Give it to me straight. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.” He goes on to note that conservative churches don’t shy away from certain biblical texts. His examples consist of divorce, submission of women to their husbands, and judgment for sin (read between the lines: hell). How can they be so daring as to talk about things so culturally against the grain? Because “they’re not worried about political correctness of any kind.”

I’d like to push back slightly. There is indeed a culture that would take issue with people equating divorce with adultery, with endorsing repressive measures against women, and with fire-and-brimstone theology. So in this sense, yes, these conservative churches are ‘against the grain.’ But let’s think about context for a moment. Vriesman preaches in West Michigan in a very conservative area, in a very conservative congregation, likely among largely rural congregants who grew up in such a conservative milieu. So in fact, what he is saying should be turned around. In his context, preaching these things is exactly what people want and expect to hear. It is not against the grain. It is politically-correct, because if he were to suddenly start preaching a more progressive message that divorce is much more complicated than simply equating it with adultery (which everyone knows intuitively, but has to listen to repeated sermons to be convinced otherwise), that God loves everyone including divorced folks, that women and men should equally respect each other, and that perhaps our view of God ought to transcend a Puritan, fire-breathing, sinners-in-the-hands-of an angry God—if this was his approach, he would be questioned. In his environment, sticking with a conservative approach is exactly the politically correct thing to do.

He goes on to say that this approach communicates to people ‘the true God’ and Jesus Christ ‘in all authenticity.’ Hmmm… The hubris to assume your view and only your view displays God as he actually is (rather than our ideas of God) is in fact the kind of thing that causes young people outside of the bubble he is operating in to flee from churches. Because they know it simply isn’t true, if anyone has taken the time to really wrestle with and engage traditions outside of their own, be it any of the many other Christian traditions, as well as other faiths. (See the excerpt of Chapter 6 of my book, An (Un)Safe Place, on Patheos).

In fact, many of these conservative churches supposedly teaching about Jesus ‘in all authenticity,’ often fail to communicate the Jesus who taught us to love our neighbor as ourselves, to love our enemies, to practice reconciliation at all costs, to respond to violence with forgiveness. These same churches consistently favor a militaristic approach to foreign policy, which looks like anything but ‘the authentic Jesus’, they often favor social policies that marginalize the poorest and weakest in our society, and one could go on. The point being that there is a healthy diversity of thought on what it means to follow ‘the real Jesus,’ and you better have a seat next to the angels in heaven before you claim to alone have insight into ‘the true God.’

So back to the initial point: I agree young people want authenticity. I think all people do. The examples mentioned may well be authentic, but they hardly put conservative churches in sole possession of authenticity.

Young adults want to know the real God. Many people today build their own gods with the bits and pieces they like from various sources, but what is God really like? Some churches present Scripture as human writing, introducing Biblical texts with, “Paul says…” or “David says…” Conservative churches will say, “The Lord says…” or “God’s Word tells us…” Human opinions are a dime a dozen, but the Bible is not another human opinion. It is God’s truth, and so it is worth getting up early on a weekend to hear.
—
My response. “Many people today built their own gods with bits and pieces they like from various sources.” Yes they do. Sources like the Heidelberg Catechism, or John Calvin, Saint Augustine, or various Bible passages. WE ARE ALL guilty of doing this. Me too. Can we do otherwise? In our discussion at the pub the other night we asked, “Do we sometimes confuse our idea(s) of God with God?” The answer, regardless of our approach, is YES. We are human beings, therefore it is impossible we will (in this life), have a pure, unfiltered view of who God is. To say anything less is dishonest.

Does that mean we are in the dark? Not at all. We do have the Scriptures, we have the witness of various theological traditions through history, and so on. But it is only honest to acknowledge that there exists, and has always existed, a multiplicity of such traditions, even in biblical times. The Bible itself is not always in agreement with itself. Vriesman notes, “Some churches present Scripture as human writing…” as if this is some sort of indictment. Scripture is human writing! Perhaps he forgot his seminary training, that a Reformed view of the inspiration of Scripture is organic: God’s Spirit at work through human beings, including all of their own personalities, character, humanity, and setting. And of course, humanity is humanity. Broken, flawed, with a perspective inescapably rooted in one’s own self. To pretend that we don’t have to say, “Paul said… this,” but “Isaiah writes this…” is to miss out on fully understanding the very means God chose to use to communicate himself to us! To simply say, “God says… ____,” without doing the hard work of understanding what God was saying originally in and through the very human authors, in and through its very context and to its first hearers, is to endanger one to presumptively miss out on what God is saying today, all the while claiming to speak for “the real God.” (See my earlier post: What I meant to say, for a discussion on the complicated reality of communication and interpretation, then and now).

Young people can see through such unnuanced approaches, and are decreasingly satisfied with them. More and more young people do want to know God as he really is, which is why they aren’t satisfied to sit in the pew and be told that we know exactly who God and what he is like. They are not satisfied with being told: “you’re not allowed to do any spiritual exploration on your own outside our own doctrinal boundaries, because that is ‘dangerous’.” Such fear of exploration may well betray the fact that one doesn’t really believe what one claims to believe. And of course, the implication that conservative churches are the only place to encounter ‘the real God’ implies that any other sort of church will only connect you with something less. My experience (and many others), would say that God can be met in a variety of settings.

Young adults hunger for meaning beyond themselves. The mainstream culture’s gospel of toleration and acceptance is loud and constant. While this can be a smooth elixir to swallow, the net result is a sour stomach of uncertainty and meaninglessness. Is there anything that is truly right and wrong? Is life’s ultimate goal just being nice to everybody and never rock the boat? Hearing about the ultimate truth from God’s own Word gives a measure of meaning beyond popular opinion and greater than our own selves. Truth that confirms what we already feel and believe only betrays itself as our own personal truth. Truth greater than ourselves by definition will challenge our views, prick our hearts, cause us to humble ourselves and submit to God’s way. As awkward and unpopular as God’s way might be, its superior source and loving purpose is compelling.
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My response. “The mainstream culture’s gospel of toleration and acceptance is loud and constant.” Good! Then perhaps the message of Jesus has been getting through. Jesus tolerated and accepted people, people who were regularly dismissed from access to God through the religious institutions of the day: the poor, the prostitutes, the tax collectors, those labeled “sinners.” The people he had the most problem with were the religious ones who didn’t practice the ‘toleration’ and ‘acceptance’ Jesus knew God extends toward all his broken humanity. Apparently it gives this writer a ‘sour stomach’ to imagine that we should practice such love, tolerance, and acceptance.

To go from this initial point to asking, ‘Is there anything that is truly right and wrong?’ is a complete disconnect. Extending God’s love doesn’t mean anything goes. It means everyone is welcome. It means we become the love of God on display. And as we do that, people begin to experience healing to their brokenness, and consider ways to begin living in wholeness and newness. And, this writer forgets, when we act in this way, it does rock the boat. Jesus accepted and loved such people, and was constantly berated by the institution that claimed to speak for God: “This man welcomes sinners, and eats with them.” “This one is a drunkard and a glutton.”

I agree with his final point, that truth greater than ourselves will challenge our views and prick our hearts. I’m simply wondering whether such truth is ever spoken in the kinds of communities he seems to be representing. Would Jesus, himself a young person, be welcome in these churches with his radical displays of love and acceptance?

Young adults resonate with sin. They are familiar with the suffering that comes from broken relationships, dead-end jobs, brittle commitments and love with strings attached. Even a self-centered and narcissistic generation like mine has burning questions about why so many awful things happen in the world. Preaching the reality of sin has a way of bringing light to the elusive suffering that is so apparent everywhere. Some churches might call for awareness, dialogue, or assistance programs in response to the world’s problems. Some young adults are attracted to this because they feel the ache of sin and want to solve its problems. But such human efforts mostly produce fatigue and frustration. Sin, according to the Bible, is actually a spiritual problem that cannot be defeated by human efforts. The truth, pure and simple, is that we need a Savior. Instead of trying harder, we conquer sin in ourselves only as much as we trust God to work through us. This leads us to open ourselves to God’s grace that comes by faith. Grace calls for human activity, but activity that is motivated by thanksgiving and love for God, not a better world as an end in itself.
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My response. Here I have a lot of agreement with the author. Many of us are indeed familiar with the suffering that comes from the things he notes. Suffering that comes from inside of us, as well as suffering that is far beyond any one of us (famine, natural disasters, war, etc). He notes that “some churches might call for awareness, dialogue, or assistance programs.” His solution is simply to “preach the reality of sin,” because if we do all this hard work of increasing awareness, discussing solutions, and working toward improving things will result simply in ‘a better world as an end in itself.’ Imagine. A better world? Is that it? Let’s stop before we get to that point. Let’s instead focus on ‘spiritual problems.’ I agree that humanity is sinful and broken. I agree that God brings healing through Jesus. However, I balk at the notion that ‘a better world’ is not an end in itself, and that nothing can change unless we remind everyone that we can’t actually do anything. In fact, if we paid attention, we’d see that non-Christians everywhere are working hard to effect real change in our world, and we would do well to begin to partner with them, rather than hide in our circles commiserating with each other over the futility of it all.

Not all conservative churches attract young adults. Some conservative churches simply attempt to hold on to the past. Those that recoil at different ministry tactics or refuse to try the newer (or older) worship music reflect the idolatry of comfort zones, which undermines the gospel’s power even if it is accurately presented from the pulpit. The key component of conservative churches that attract young adults is the visible display of God’s love. Before and after worshiping together, the love of God is visible in the way people greet and speak to one another. People of a different color or socio-economic class are welcomed with the same smiles and greetings as everyone else. Truths are held without compromise but questions and discussions are always welcome because that is how we learn. The conservative moral standards are used to encourage sinners in their emerging faith, not as merit badges of superiority.
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My response. Agreed! Not all conservative churches attract young adults. But neither do all progressive churches. Or all of any kind of church. I also agree that the key component in a church attracting young adults is the visible display of God’s love. However, I think it goes far beyond creating a welcoming environment over coffee before and after the service. It comes not in simply being nice to someone ‘of a different color.’ It comes not by trumpeting our ‘conservative truths and moral standards.’ It comes by people living in genuine community throughout the week, people who can rely upon each other (and I know this often is practiced very well in conservative churches), but also by people living sacrificially on behalf of a broken world. People like the early church, who modeled Christ’s teaching by having everything in common, by taking in the poor, by suffering to declare that the way of a suffering Jewish teacher was superior to the way of Rome and Caesar.

He notes in the end that ‘questions and discussions are always welcome because that is how we learn.’ This seems at odds with his earlier comments which dismiss dialogue in favor of preaching and ‘cold hard doctrine.’ I agree, we learn when we honestly engage views differently from our own, when we admit we haven’t figured everything out, least of all God. This approach, in my own experience, is refreshing to young people who have too often experienced the opposite.

The article closes as follows:
“At the end of the day, people need to see that God’s truth as well as his grace and love are more than theoretical beliefs. God is true and his Son Jesus Christ is mighty to save. Churches that show Jesus Christ is real will always attract people of all ages.”

I might articulate something more along these lines:
“At the end of the day, people need to experience the reality of God’s love and grace through communities seeking to embody the way of Jesus, the prophet and rabbi who declared that the ‘Kingdom of God is at hand.’ Churches that really seek to follow Jesus will attract people of all ages, but will not necessarily be popular.”

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What do you think? Do conservative churches attract young people? Can we make such sharp delineations as ‘conservative’ and ‘progressive’ or ‘liberal’ among churches? Is this a useful approach? What might draw you to a particular community of faith? What might keep you away?

‘Spiritual but not religious’: A Response

October 1, 2012 Entertainment, Philosophy, Practices, Relationships, Theology Comments are closed

meditation-man-beach — Mind open, mind closed.

The real reason ‘spiritual but not religious’ is a cop-out
A guest post by Robert Kroese

Robert Kroese is the author of Mercury Falls, Mercury Rises, and many other engaging apocalyptic adventures! This post was originally published on his blog at robertkroese.com, and was a thoughtful response to Alan Miller’s post.

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Recently I ran across a blog post with the title My Take: “I’m spiritual but not religious” is a cop-out. I read the post with interest because I’ve often thought this very thing: that claiming to be “spiritual” isn’t an answer to a question about one’s religious beliefs, but rather a way to avoid the question while sounding like one has put some thought into it.

Sadly, the post almost immediately devolves into unverifiable, baseless generalizations. For example:

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.

Whoa, what now? That’s a bold statement. And it doesn’t appear at the end of a chain of rigorous reasoning or citation of studies about beliefs; it’s just thrown out there, as if it’s a brute fact of reality. The author follows this up with all manner of other vague and unsupported statements, somehow managing in an 800-word blog post to attack moral relativism, a culture centered on “feelings,” and megachurches — and going on to defend “old fashioned” values and the King James Bible (which has done all right for 400 years without his support, thank you very much).

Hidden in that rhetorical avalanche are two short paragraphs that I think actually come close to dealing with the matter at hand:

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 problem, as these paragraphs indicate, isn’t that “spiritual but not religious” is a bad answer to the question “what are your religious beliefs?” (as Miller seems to argue in the rest of the post) but rather that it’s a non-answer.

Imagine a group of plane crash survivors stranded on an island, debating the best way to get off the island. Some argue that the best way is to build a signal fire. Others argue that they should try to build a raft. Still others say that trying to get off the island is a waste of time; that they should focus their efforts on basic survival. Finally one person pipes up with, “Well, I don’t agree with any of you, but I definitely think we’re on an island.”

The man isn’t wrong, but his answer doesn’t get them anywhere. It doesn’t add anything to the discussion. It’s just an acknowledgement of the predicament. And worse, it’s an answer that seems calculated to put the speaker above or outside of the arena of discussion: “Have your petty disagreements amongst yourself; meanwhile I will sit here and contemplate the ocean surrounding us.”

Let me clarify that I’m not saying that the “spiritual but not religious” person is being intentionally smug or provocative, but that this is how is answer is going to be received by people who have been pulling their hair out trying to figure out a way off the island. It could be that he has already considered and rejected as wanting all possible attempts to get off the island and possesses some knowledge about the island that the other survivors aren’t privy to. But if so, then he’s doing a disservice to the other survivors by not sharing his knowledge. And if not, then he’s just wasting their time by pointing out the obvious.

The “spiritual but not religious” label points to three possibilities, as far as I can see:

1. The person has done a thorough study of the world’s religions, found them wanting, and took a different path.

2. The person is largely ignorant of religious beliefs but has been blessed with a mystical understanding that allows him or her to see the shortcomings of any “man-made” religion, and took a different path.

3. The person is largely ignorant of religious beliefs, has no real wisdom to offer, and is parroting an answer that he or she has heard various celebrities use in interviews with some success.

Without lapsing into pure cynicism, I’ll point out that (1) requires a lot of work, and (2) requires that the person be able to see a reality that is evidently hidden to most of the world’s traditional religious believers, whereas (3) requires only pure ignorance, which is in bountiful supply on this planet.

Of course, answering a question about religious beliefs by saying “I’m a Baptist,” “I’m Jewish,” or “I’m an atheist,” isn’t any more inherently difficult than saying “I’m spiritual but not religious.” In other words, there are lazy and ignorant Baptists, Jews and atheists as well as lazy and ignorant “spiritual-but-not-religious” people. Some Baptists have thought long and hard about what they believe and why. Others are just parroting answers they learned in Sunday school. But to their credit, at least they are answering the question.

Further, it seems odd to me that “spiritual but not religious” is such a common answer to the question about one’s religious beliefs. If you really want me to believe that you’ve made a deliberate choice to walk the road less traveled, then you might try giving a different answer to a question about your religious beliefs than that given by, say, Lady Gaga. Otherwise, aren’t you just a Gagaist? What’s the difference between you and every other “spiritual but not religious” person? If there is a difference, then tell me what it is. If there isn’t, then you’re just a member of another vaguely defined religion.

If you are asked about your religious and you don’t really have any religious beliefs, I suggest saying, “I don’t really have any religious beliefs.” If you have some vague belief that people have souls and that there are bad consequences to immoral behavior, say that. If you think that we’re all part of the Great Mystical Oneness, then say that. Saying that you’re “spiritual” doesn’t communicate anything. And saying that you’re “not religious” only communicates that while you may not know what the answer is, you suspect that most of the answers other people have come up with are wrong, or at least deficient.

You might have some really interesting thoughts about God, souls, sin, redemption, justice, forgiveness, love, purpose and oneness. But if you start out by saying that you’re “spiritual but not religious,” I’m going to seriously doubt it.

This post reflects the views of its author.

‘Spiritual but not religious’ is a cop-out

September 30, 2012 Church, Culture, Philosophy, Practices, Theology Comments are closed

beach-meditation-story-top — “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—

September 10, 2012 Church, Culture, Economy, Practices, Relationships Comments are closed

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.

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.

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.

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Bryan 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.