What You Need Is a Cup

We had an interesting time last night in the Presbyterian Polity course I teach at New Brunswick Theological Seminary. I’d handed out a review by Anthony B. Robinson from a recent issue of The Christian Century of sociologist Nancy Ammerman’s book, Sacred Stories, Spiritual Tribes (Oxford, 2013). One of the things Ammerman does is assess the category of people who describe themselves as SBNR (“spiritual but not religious”).

That category is, Ammerman asserts, “a unicorn” — something you never see in the wild. A major sociological research project she’s conducted demonstrates that people who are active in organized religion are the “most committed to spiritual practices and a spiritual view of the world.”

As for those who claim the SBNR label for themselves, rejecting organized religion, Ammerman found that (as a group, on the average) they’re not really very spiritual either — at least not according to the evidence she, as a sociologist, can objectively measure. Mostly, she speculates, the SBNR language is a way to lay down boundaries so as not to have to discuss religious questions with churchgoers. It’s a subtle way of saying, “Don’t bug me.”

From The Christian Century’s review: “To sum up her team’s findings, one might say that with a congregation a person is more likely to be spiritual, and without such a community of spiritual discourse and practice, individuals tend to be less spiritual or not spiritual at all. ‘The people with the most robust sense of sacred presence are those who participate in religious activities that allow for conversation and relationship,’ concludes the author.”

The class received and thoughtfully commented on the book review. Then, a little later, as we were discussing a recent PC(USA) ordination-exam question, our discussion got very lively. In the case study that's at the heart of that exam question, a man asks, “Pastor, does someone need to be a member of a church in order to be a good Christian?”

The question, of course, goes to the heart of the whole SBNR phenomenon. Some members of the class defended church involvement as essential to Christian discipleship. Others were not so sure. Some of these spoke poignantly of people they’ve known who feel grievously hurt by the church, having been excluded from full participation for one reason or another. Regretfully, they keep their distance.

Historically, we Presbyterians display a “high” conception of the church, holding up the importance of Christian community - including regular worship - as essential to the Christian life. We also observe that nearly everybody Jesus heals, in the Bible, either sticks around to join his band of disciples or goes back to rejoin their original community, telling of what they’ve heard, seen and experienced.

Jesus calls people not into private, do-it-yourself spirituality, but directly into community.

One of the students pointed out a line from the Book of Order's section, "The Meaning of Membership and Baptism," that says: "In Jesus Christ, God calls people to faith and to membership in the church, the body of Christ" (G-1.0301). That's an "and," not an "or." The two are bound together.

"Good eye," I said to her, commending her for picking out that passage. (I love it when they do that.)

I liken it to taking a drink of water — even “living water,” to apply a metaphor Jesus uses in the scriptures. Anyone who’s ever been out camping in the wilderness knows it’s possible to kneel down beside a stream, cup one’s hands and take a drink.

It’s far easier, of course, if you have a cup. Try to drink without one, and you only get one small swallow at a time. The greater part of the water you scoop up will leak out through your fingers. If you have a cup, though, it’s very different. As a container for holding water, a cup is far more efficient than the hands.

Even the language we use reflects that. When we speak of “cupping” our hands, we’re subtly pointing out that a cup (or similar drinking vessel) is the natural way to take a drink. When the hands try to do it, they’re aspiring to be a cup. They don’t do a very good job.

I see the church as like a cup that holds water. The cup itself is not what refreshes and sustains life. Only living water can do that. It’s far easier to drink of that living water, though, if we do make use of a cup. It is in community that we both learn how to practice the faith and receive the encouragement and support that enables us to actually do that.

Sadly, some people mistake the cup for the water it contains, and end up worshiping it instead. The cup, though, is not the point; the water is. But without a cup, we’re likely to be a lot thirstier.

A Church With No Members?

A column I read today in The Presbyterian Outlook got my attention. Church-leadership consultant Tom Ehrich was writing about the declining popularity of church membership (“The New Age of Ad Hoc Connections,” Presbyterian Outlook, November 24, 2014).

While that may sound like bad news, he doesn’t think it’s necessarily so. It just reflects growing trends in the larger society against joining any kind of organization.

This is nothing new. Sociologists like Peter Berger have been telling us this for years. His famed bowling-leagues study documented how bowling has not diminished in popularity, although bowlers no longer like to join leagues and commit to being at the alley with their team one day per week.

The whole idea of “belonging” to a group just isn’t attractive anymore. Folks would rather go it alone, connecting with others in ad hoc ways as the need or opportunity arises.

“People are just living in different ways,” says Ehrich. “Not better or worse, just different. Wise church leaders will dial down the membership lingo and learn to offer a variety of venues, some of them ad hoc, where people can connect.”

As examples, he lists a number of brief-duration mission and service events churches have organized: packing seeds to send off to African farmers, building houses for Habitat for Humanity, delivering toys to needy children at Christmas, disaster-relief work, etc.

The membership rituals of the past hold little meaning, he goes on. “People today value groups and networks, but they want them to be free-flowing and ad hoc, centered in hanging out, last-minute planning and discovering new venues. This is an age of pop-up stores and restaurants.”

Could there ever be such a thing as a pop-up church? The Presbyterian Church is actually experimenting with such an idea, with its 1001 Worshiping Communities initiative. While not exactly pop-up churches, the new communities being fostered — based on informal gatherings in all sorts of places — do have something of that ad hoc quality. The idea is to experiment with new ways of being church together. Some of them may grow into recognizable congregations someday. Others may become something else altogether — but still a part of the Body of Christ.

Maybe Jesus himself provides a different standard. At the end of his Parable of the Sheep and the Goats, the king says: “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” (Matthew 25:35-36)

Not a hint, there, of letters of transfer.

Don’t worry so much about membership, Ehrich assures us. “Churches should ramp up their communications, so that when a need arises, they can send out a call for caring. Then just let people serve as they can, without imposing a membership expectation.”

But how, then, to measure our successes and failures? The answer, I suppose, is “We don’t.” At the end of the day, it’s not our successes that matter. It’s what the Holy Spirit is doing in our midst.

What do you think? Is church membership growing obsolete? If so, what’s emerging in its place?