Reorganized Religion and the Vitality of the Local Church
Major Trends and Personal Stories
Religion Reporter Bob Smietana’s new book came out earlier this fall. Titled Reorganized Religion: The Reshaping of the American Church and Why It Matters, it provides a multifaceted look at the various dynamics impacting contemporary American religion. From the aging of the church to the rise of the nones to the political sorting post-2016, institutional religion is having a rough time. COVID closures broke the limited habits of people attending church, trust in institutional life in general is fading, sexual abuse and power abuse crises have weakened trust, and the seemingly never-ending supply of crazy pastors saying crazy things in online videos from their cars or pulpits, weaken the institution on an almost daily basis.
This morning, the American Enterprise Institute sponsored a forum discussing Bob’s book. Moderated by AEI’s Dan Cox (a great pollster), Bob was joined by the Washington Post’s Michelle Boornstein, University of Connecticut sociologist Ruth Braunstein, and Trinity Forum’s (and Atlantic writer) Peter Wehner. The discussion was wide-ranging and hit all of the major themes of Bob’s book (and the research it summarizes).
Bob repeated an analogy he describes at some depth in the book. He described how they had recently settled into a new (to them) house as a result of the move from Tennessee to Illinois. His only complaint is that the kitchen is a little small. He said that it would be great to knock out a wall to create more space. The problem is that said wall is load bearing and the roof would cave in unless something else was put in its place.
This, he says, is the condition of American religion, especially in its non-megachurch iteration. He shares stories of local congregations, including his own, that fill the gaps when something happens to a family or a neighborhood.1 Like that proverbial kitchen wall, what happens if the local church isn’t there to fill those gaps? Sure there are other social service agencies but their caseloads and bureaucratic structure makes it hard to provide the same compassionate response that a local church can offer.2
Bob’s reflections on the local congregation were particularly meaningful for me because last night I participated in what United Methodists call a “charge conference”. It’s a business meeting involving the area district superintendent (with a video introduction from the Bishop), the pastors, committee chairs, and congregation members. There’s a reflection on membership, average attendance, and budget. Then the conversation got more interesting, moving to what’s going well and what challenges are present.
My church, Belong Church in downtown Denver, is a six-year-old church plant. It is decidedly affirming on LGBTQ issues, concerned with issues of justice and inequality, and works to provide community to both those inside the congregation and the unhoused neighbors outside. Justice is a key through-line for Belong, which has its own doxology setting Micah 6:8 to Puccini’s Turandot. Attendance has been impacted by the COVID shutdown (not gathering in years 3-4 of a church plant takes a toll!) but is returning to a sense of normalcy. Unlike most Methodist churches I’ve attended in my life, I’m in the upper quintile of age instead of being below median. There are singles, marrieds, gay, straight, families, whites, nonwhites, urban, suburban. People have deep history in the church and no history at all. Sermons are scripture based while open to new interpretations and perspectives.
I was asked to preach at Belong four weeks ago. Having finished Bob’s book shortly before, I borrowed two passages. The first describes work of Notre Dame political scientist David Campbell:
Religious communities, said Campbell, are unique in how they build social capital. They bring people together regularly, reinforce their beliefs through rituals and songs, and send people out into the world to live those beliefs. And they know who to call when a dam bursts or a tornado hits, and they have an organization in place to put people to work in effective ways.
The second, quotes Northern Colorado sociologist Josh Packard and aptly describes the ethos of Belong:
Many see themselves as being on a spiritual journey, trying out the practices and relationships that bring their faith to life in a way that impacts the world around them. [T]hey described this experience [as] "faith unbundled.” "The best way to think about this generation is that they're trying to construct faith lives out of the pieces left laying around by their deconstructed parents," he said. "The best way to reach that group is not to show them a house that's already built but to get in there and help them build something for themselves.”
This “working out your salvation” happens in the kind of community where people are free to take risks in telling others what they truly believe (or don’t believe). As I told the pastor on one of my early visits to Belong, I’ve decided that I’m too old to squeeze myself into some mold by pretending I can fit with some set of predetermined congregational positions. I’ll bring myself to the table and engage with my fellow congregants as best as I’m able.
If somehow we all decided that Belong had a nice run but no longer had a role to play, the world wouldn’t end. There are another 50 Methodist churches in the area. But that work of being community, exploring faith, and serving others would be missed — just like Bob’s kitchen wall.
Thirty years ago I conducted a small research project attempting to show the mediating role that local congregations play within the larger social safety net of the community. It had mixed results, due to researcher error (always make sure to operationalize all your key variables — like the difference between bonding and bridging social capital).
I’m currently reading Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead, which is full of stories of the failure of the social safety net in general and the foster system in particular.