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!important;line-height:150% !important;} }@media screen and (max-width:480px){ #yiv4794884649 #yiv4794884649templateBody .yiv4794884649mcnTextContent, #yiv4794884649 #yiv4794884649templateBody .yiv4794884649mcnTextContent p{ font-size:14px !important;line-height:150% !important;} }@media screen and (max-width:480px){ #yiv4794884649 #yiv4794884649templateFooter .yiv4794884649mcnTextContent, #yiv4794884649 #yiv4794884649templateFooter .yiv4794884649mcnTextContent p{ font-size:12px !important;line-height:150% !important;} } The Cost of the Future Church  | | | | View this email in your browser | | | | | | | | | | | | | | The Future Church: Over to You | | | | | | | | | | Essay by Rev. Gretta Vosper June 6, 2019 It was a pretty normal Sunday morning. The pews were still frightfully empty but I’d become accustomed to the behaviour patterns of the West Hill congregation, a last-a minute crowd if ever I’d seen one. With the precision timing of a military drill, they spilled in from the parking lot and lobby just as the first significant bits of the service began filling the space. Normal, that is, except for what was about to happen. I had no sermon prepared to deliver. That isn’t as unusual as it may seem; clergy often have pastoral duties that undermine sermon preparation time. Four weddings and a funeral… It happens. We deal with it. But that Sunday, when I stepped up to preach, rather than inviting the congregation to a deeper understanding of their faith, a stronger belief in God, or richer spiritual practice of following Jesus, I did the opposite. In my defence, I didn’t know I was going to do that. Perhaps my brain, on some channel unfamiliar to me, had blocked me from knowing what it was about to do. As I preached, my words spilled out into a total deconstruction of the concept of a theistic god called God. Founder of the Universe: gone. Creator of All Life: gone. Source of All Goodness: gone. Purveyor of Divine Blessings and Answers to Prayer: gone. Arbiter of Justice: gone. In fact, not much was left at all but a surprised (and possibly appalled) congregation ready to embrace and comfort me as I recovered from whatever burden they believed had overcome my faith that morning. The rest, as they say, is history. Armed with fifteen years of exposure to critical contemporary Christian scholarship, the congregation’s leaders, rather than fire me, embraced the opportunity to explore what church beyond belief might look like. It has been a bumpy ride at times; there is no doubt about that.  Still, the work was important, and we have proven that a church built on the values of liberal Christianity neither undermines nor requires belief in a supernatural, interventionist, theistic god called God. So, You Think That Took Courage Over the years since that pivotal moment, I have had opportunity to speak to many about the work we do at West Hill. I’ve heard the word « courage » over and over by those who have come to hear me express awe at my willingness to speak openly and honestly about what we do and do not believe. I was often uncomfortable about receiving that particular compliment, though it took me some time to figure out why: It’s because it wasn’t me being courageous. With my spontaneous deconstruction sermon, I had almost accidentally cracked the door open and expected dire consequences for doing so. It was West Hill’s Board members who threw the door wide open and held the congregation’s hand as it took its first steps into the unfamiliar territory of post-theism. It was the people of West Hill who chose to embrace their inner heretics. It was they who were courageous and it was blind luck that allowed me to pilot their incredible journey. Of course, journeys into the unknown are just that: journeys into the unknown. Not long after we set out, the Board at West Hill began asking for more and more significant changes. They created a committee – Elements of Worship – that became the fulcrum of change in the congregation. Early on, it dismissed the idea of capturing our beliefs in a new statement of faith (which could only ever be divisive) and distilled, instead, the values inherent in the Christianity upon which they chose to model their lives. To quote a member of the first writing team, it was a « daunting » challenge to each of us to live out our faith with integrity. And, while the Elements Committee never used the document it had written to proactively change things at West Hill, it boldly addressed issues raised by congregants and visitors and morphed or removed things that no longer held or represented meaning for the congregation. Why are you still here? If you are reading this, chances are you have long ago left the idea that the Bible is the literal word of God. You probably wrestle with the stories of Jesus and wonder which ones represent what he actually did and said and which represent the prejudices of someone who never even knew him. You have long questioned the idea of a benevolent god who would let people die of diseases we haven’t yet cured,  and those we have but refuse to make the cure financially accessible to all. You don’t think you believe in that kind of god anymore. You are very likely a life-long Christian and have been in the church for decades. And decades. And you probably wonder why young people don’t come to your church like they used to. Figuring out why you are still in church may be something to which you haven’t given much thought. I want you to figure that out. But I’m going to spare you the soul-searching and see if I can get this right by suggesting: you aren’t in church because of the responsive calls to worship, or the majesty of the procession of clergy and choir, or the hymns you rise to sing, or your eagerness to find out which Bible passages will be read that week, or the prayers of intercession, or the carillon you’re raising money to repair, or the neighbours who all know you go to church (though they are likely the closest reason listed so far), or the preaching of your oratorically-gifted minister, or the Taize service you attend each month (though that may be another close one). I realize I’m out on a limb here, but I would wager (not allowed in my denomination!) it’s because of the people and the relationships you have developed in that place over all these years. You’ve fallen in love with being together, as I like to put it, and that has strengthened every good instinct you have ever had because falling in love with being together is the healthiest thing you could have ever done for yourself. And that, my friend, is a problem: loving your church is going to kill the church. We Are the Canary in the Belfry Many of you know that I write from Canada. Yes, thank you; we are a lovely people. But we are your church canary, if you will, gasping out our last few notes before folding our wings forever. Two generations ahead of you in the abandonment of traditional congregational life, we started fleeing the pews in the mid-1960s. No, I didn’t lead the exodus; I was five. But I’ve watched it and lived it. And I know that it spells trouble for the socially democratic country y’all admire. You see, subjective well-being is tied to the number of social connections we make and maintain. In church, when people fall in love with being together and create multiple connections on Sunday and throughout the week, they experience a surge in well-being - regardless of what they believe. And that surge in well-being leads to a statistically significant increase in voluntarism beyond the church and in the community, with bigger philanthropic donations, and higher voter turnout. It’s true. The best thing you ever got out of church was the friends you made there. If you look carefully at your denomination’s attendance and membership numbers through the lens of the Public Religion Research Institute (PRRI), though, you’ll find a gently sloping downward curve which is going to head straight down very soon. That curve is being drawn by young adults who are refusing church affiliation in droves. You may have noticed a greying of the pews, a smaller group of children leaving for church school, or learned that your adult grandchild didn’t search out a church when they moved to another city. Your church leaders may have begun trying new programming or rebranding. There may be yoga classes mid-week. One Sunday a month is now « Messy Church Sunday ». The pastoral team is stirring things up a bit with innovative attempts to capture a younger demographic before things tank altogether. Wasting Precious Time Scheduling hip new programming and hiring a gay youth minister is not going to make a difference, believe me. While being hip may not be your forte, it isn’t what is killing your church. It’s loving all the stuff you don’t believe that is killing your church. Not the fact that you don’t believe it; obviously, if you’re still in church, your filters are pretty good. That you have to filter what’s being said, read, and sung: that’s your problem. Fewer and fewer young adults are willing to wade through the premise of belief upon which the church of their parents is built. And while you may be willing to manage the constant translation of scripture, liturgy, hymnody, and theology, they aren’t. Integrity won’t let them. If you are in a mainline Protestant church, you can assume that your pastoral staff know everything you know and more. Liberal mainline seminaries have taught contemporary critical scholarship for decades. In my denomination, it’s been over a century. The President of Union Theological Seminary, Serene Jones, exposed some of it in a recent interview claiming that the virgin birth was a «bizarre claim» and that belief in Jesus’ bodily resurrection was untenable to those who have true faith. She seemed surprised that anyone would think otherwise. .....The pervasive idea of an abusive God-father who sends his own ......kid to the cross so God could forgive people is nuts. For me, ......the cross is an enactment of our human hatred. But what happens ......on Easter is the triumph of love in the midst of suffering. Isn’t ......that reason for hope? Maybe it’s been a while since Jones was in church. Or maybe she is in that self-revered Christian demographic that knows all the secret handshakes and head-nods of the contemporary illuminati who know none of it is true but continue to talk as though it is. After all, what happens every time love triumphs over hatred, suffering, misogyny, racism, arrogance, and greed is reason for hope. But do we still need to read the horror of the crucifixion and the unbelievable story of bodily resurrection to get to the importance of love? I don’t think so. And neither do your grandchildren. Over to You Clergy are unlikely to throw the door open widely enough to welcome those for whom Christian language and theology is a barrier. They will feel the risk deeply. It’s not their fault; their recent memory holds too many stories about discomfited parishioners. It is you who needs to lead the charge. Yes, you. Not your kids. Not your pastor. Not the Presbytery or Deacon’s Board or Diocesan Council. It’s you. «There’s time enough but none to spare.» How many endeavours have been urged along by the word of the African American essayist, Charles Chestnutt? We will never know. But I am using his words to emphazise the truth that mainline American churches have time enough to protect the important work they do. And the other equally important truth: they have no time to spare. So let’s cut to the chase. The cost of your not doing something will eventually be the future of your church community, of the well-being of the community beyond its doors, of the town or suburb you live in, of the world your grandchildren inhabit and in which they will grow old. Because all of that suffers when churches fail, and fail they will. Even in the Christian country that America professes to be, the fastest growing religious demographic is the Nones, those who identify as having no religious affiliation. And those with no religious affiliation miss out on the off-label benefits that affiliation might provide. At the same age you fell in love with being together in the churches of your early adult years, your children or grandchildren are experiencing record levels of loneliness. A recent Economist study notes that over twenty percent of the population now identifies as often or always experiencing loneliness. Many of these people are seniors but a rising number of young people also experience the psychological challenge of isolation on a regular basis. A Cigna study found that over half the population feels that no one really knows them. These are disturbing trends that impact Millennials in challenging ways. The communities which the church has created in the past could provide exactly what young adults now need, but Millennials won’t sacrifice their integrity to solve their isolation. You will because you’ve out-survived the preposterous nature of Christian belief. They can’t. The Cost of the Future Church What will it cost to throw the door open wide and become theologically non-exclusive in a way that welcomes millennials? Theological language, for one. The exclusive use of the Bible for inspiration, for two. The constant reiteration of ancient myths about who Jesus was and what he did… The words of your favorite hymns and choral pieces. All that traditional liturgy, its grandeur, pomp, and ceremony. Almost everything ever accompanied by a pipe organ. A few or a lot of those currently in the pews who are unable to transition the things they lose in the public church gathering to their private spiritual practice. The ease of pick-up and teach lectionary-based Sunday School curricula. And likely lot of other stuff. Those costs will be significant. I won’t gloss that over. But the gains for future generations may be exponentially more valuable. Socially engaged citizens who are confident in their pursuit of truth, justice, and right-relationship. Strong commitment to the values distilled from the mainline Christianity you know and love. Leadership in social action and climate justice. Resilience in the face of great change, much of it catastrophic. The support of charitable causes that make up for civic deficiencies. Fewer people whose loneliness is their most constant companion. A generation that falls in love with being together and reaps all the well-being associated with that. It is a hard sell but I believe it is a crucial one. Remember, we are your canary. We cannot save you, but perhaps we can inspire you to build the future church now. Before it’s too late for you, too. ~ Rev. Gretta Vosper Read online here About the Author The Rev. Gretta Vosper is a United Church of Canada minister who is an atheist. Her best-selling books include With or Without God: Why The Way We Live is More Important Than What We Believe, and Amen: What Prayer Can Mean in a World Beyond Belief. She has also published three books of poetry and prayers. | | | | | | | | Question & Answer   Q: By Barb I’ve always heard that Jesus’ ministry was three years long. Now I hear that it was only one year. How does something like that change?  A: By Rev. David M. Felten Dear Barb, The short answer is, nothing’s changed. Depending on which gospel you read, Jesus’ ministry was both one year long and three years long.   With no physical or archaeological evidence to fill us in on the details of Jesus’ life, the one thing we have to go on are the gospels – and even the so-called “synoptic gospels” don’t agree with each other on order of events and details. But as for the duration of Jesus’ ministry, the “synoptics” (Mark, Matthew, and Luke) share a timeline that includes only one Passover observance, suggesting a ministry of one year.  John’s gospel, with a completely different (and some would say narcissistic) Jesus, different message, and different priorities, has also created a completely different timeline. Making mention of at least three annual Passover feasts (John 2:13; 6:4; 11:55-57), John super-sizes Jesus’ ministry into three years. Earnest apologists have tried to consolidate all four narratives into one “harmony” of the gospels, but to no avail. The accounts are just too different.   The authors of the synoptics, by-and-large, moved the action right along, committing most of their ink to Jesus’ last week (In fact, I love how much Mark seems to be in a hurry. He uses the word “immediately” over 40 times!). On the other hand, John’s late developing tradition makes the bold choice to stretch out its spiritualized message and ripening anti-Semitism into three years un-syncable with the other gospels.    As John’s portrayal of Jesus seems to make it the most popular gospel for many, the expanded timeline has come to be uncritically accepted among traditionalist Christians. However, that very timeline discrepancy is among the reasons why Jesus scholars have placed John into its own take-it-with-a-grain-of-salt category: call it “poetic but problematic.” Meanwhile, proponents of a three-year ministry go to great lengths to ignore the synoptic gospels altogether and try to overwhelm people with spectacularly complex theological gymnastics, interpreting Daniel 9 and the reigns of various rulers as evidence of the legitimacy of their chronological obsession (see examples HERE, HERE, and HERE).   The bottom line is that nobody really knows how long Jesus’ ministry was – and it really doesn’t matter. What does matter is whether we’re taking the teachings of Jesus to heart and living them out in our everyday lives. A lot of otherwise very smart people attend churches where the Bible is presented as the inerrant, infallible word of God (“If the Bible says it, it must be true,” regardless of how nonsensical some of it has become thousands of years later). That means a lot of energy has to be spent in covering up or discounting blatantly obvious conflicts and trying to shoe-horn the Bible into supporting unjust and inhumane cultural prejudices. (See more on this from Marcus Borg HERE.)   So, check it out for yourself. The Bible is crystal-clear: Jesus’ ministry was both one year and three years long. Don’t get distracted by those who would argue that it has to literally be one or the other. They’re missing the point. What’s important is Jesus’ prophetic call to make the world a more just and compassionate place. Anything that distracts from that challenge, while the very real troubles of the world go unaddressed, is betraying Jesus’ message – no matter how long his ministry was.   ~ Rev. David M. Felten Read and share online here About the Author Rev. David M. Felten is a full-time pastor at The Fountains, a United Methodist Church in Fountain Hills, Arizona. David and fellow United Methodist Pastor, Jeff Procter-Murphy, are the creators of the DVD-based discussion series for Progressive Christians, “Living the Questions”. A co-founder of the Arizona Foundation for Contemporary Theology and also a founding member of No Longer Silent: Clergy for Justice, David is an outspoken voice for LGBTQ rights both in the church and in the community at large. David is active in the Desert Southwest Conference of the United Methodist Church and tries to stay connected to his roots as a musician. You’ll find him playing saxophones in a variety of settings, including appearances with the Fountain Hills Saxophone Quartet. David and his wife Laura have three children. | | | | | | | | Please continue to send us your feedback… we are listening. We aim to give voice to many different perspectives that are relevant and inspiring along this spiritually progressing path. We are not here to tell you what to believe or how to act. We are here to support your journey, to share and learn together.Thank you for being a part of this community! | | | | | | Join our FB community today! Spread the word, share with friends. Thanks! | | | | | | | | Bishop John Shelby Spong Revisited The Fourth Fundamental: Miracles and the Resurrection, Part IV Essay by Bishop John Shelby Spong August 22, 2007   The idea that one can raise a deceased person to life entered the biblical story in two narratives from the Elijah-Elisha cycle of stories. It is then picked up and repeated in the gospel tradition. Was this meant to be read literally? Did Jesus really raise the dead? Is it biologically possible to bring back to life one who has been dead for four days? Does one have to make this assertion in order to be a Christian as literal minded believers seem to believe? Fundamentalists say that since stories that make this claim are in the Bible and the Bible is the word of God, they have to be true. They argue that since Jesus was the incarnation of the holy God, he was capable of doing anything that God could do. It is a circular argument which depends, of course, on the acceptance of the first of the five fundamentals, which asserts that the Bible is indeed inerrant since God is its author. People living in the 21st century respond to these absurdities by saying if that is what Christianity is all about then they want no part of it. As universal education grows, more and more people begin to embrace what we know about the way the universe works and more and more educated people take leave of their religious heritage, choosing citizenship in what Harvard’s Harvey Cox called “the secular city,” but I call the “Church Alumni Association.” That sterile choice, which requires a closed mind, has risen in our time, I believe, because Christians have literalized their time bound and time warped explanations of both the God experience and the Jesus experience. Modern people can no longer believe the literalizations, because to believe literally violates their minds giving them the choice of sacrificing their brains or their faith. This week I focus this discussion on New Testament stories where Jesus is said to have raised to life one who has died. There are five biblical episodes that purport to show Jesus raising the dead. However, there are only three people who are raised since one of these stories is told three times, once in each of the synoptic gospels, Mark, Matthew and Luke. That gospel repetition should not surprise us because it is now universally understood that Mark was the original gospel and that both Matthew and Luke copied much of Mark into their expanded stories. The people that Jesus is said to have raised from the dead are: Jairus’ daughter, told in Mark, Matthew and Luke; the only son of an unnamed widow raised from his funeral bier, told only in Luke, and Lazarus, the most dramatic story of all, told only by the gospel of John. As we have done before, the first thing we do is to look for parallels among the miracle stories surrounding the foundational Jewish heroes of Moses-Joshua and Elijah-Elisha. The Moses-Joshua stories, as previously noted, are exclusively nature miracles and they have clearly shaped the nature miracles attributed to Jesus. Besides nature miracles the Elijah-Elisha cycle introduces one healing miracle, but on two occasions presents us with the idea that the dead can actually be raised back to life by a religious leader. When we examine these narratives it becomes clear that the accounts of Jesus raising a person back to life are closely connected to these Elijah-Elisha stories. The gospel account of Jesus raising the child of Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue, is patterned so totally on the account of Elisha raising a child from the dead, that it is hard to escape the conclusion that the raising of Jairus’ daughter is simply an Elisha story magnified and applied to Jesus. We need to recall that the power to raise the dead was a sign of messiah’s arrival so this story was designed to interpret Jesus as “the one that should come.” Encouraged by that pattern we search for a narrative that might lie under Luke’s unique story of Jesus raising from the dead the only son of a widow. In the Elijah narrative, this time we find a remarkable similarity. First note that Elijah-Elisha stories are a primary interpretive tool for Luke. Luke alone among the synoptic gospels does not identify John the Baptist with Elijah; rather he saves Elijah to be his primary model for Jesus. The one healing story in the Elijah-Elisha cycle in which a foreigner, named Naaman, is cured of leprosy by bathing in the Jordan River shows up in an account only in Luke of a Samaritan who is cured of his leprosy by bathing in the Jordan River. Now, like Elijah, Luke has Jesus raise from the dead the only son of a widow. This occurs, Luke says, in the village of Nain. The details are dramatically similar. In both stories it is an only son; in both stories the mother is a widow; in both stories the young man is ready for burial; in both stories the healing person touches the deceased body, and in both stories the restored son is delivered to his mother. Once again, we cannot escape the conclusion that Luke has simply adapted this Elijah story to serve his image of Jesus as the new Elijah and thus fulfill another messianic expectation. It is interesting to note the placement in Luke’s gospel of the story of this widow’s son. It comes just before the episode in which John the Baptist sends messengers to Jesus asking the messianic question: “Are you the one that should come or do we look for another?” Jesus replies by saying go tell John what you see and hear and then he quotes the prophet Isaiah, who said that when the messiah comes you will know it because the blind will see, the deaf hear, the lame walk and the mute sing. To that list Jesus adds the uniquely Christian signs, “the dead are raised and the poor have the gospel preached to them.” Up to this moment, however, Luke has no story about the dead being raised. The narrative about Jairus’ daughter comes later in his gospel. So if Luke is going to have Jesus tell John that in his life the dead are raised, he has to provide an example. So, I am suggesting, he simply adapts Elijah’s story and makes it a Jesus story. The story of the widow’s son is thus not intended to be a supernatural event that actually occurred; it is an interpretive Elijah story, wrapped around Jesus to demonstrate his claim to be the new and greater Elijah, which was one of the images that shaped the messianic expectations of that day. That brings us to the final and best known New Testament story about a dead person being raised. It is the story of Lazarus and it is told only in the Fourth Gospel, a book that was not written until between 95-100 C.E. There are many strange things about this Lazarus story that should raise our suspicions about its historicity. First, Lazarus is introduced as the brother of Mary and Martha. Mary and Martha, as well as their home in Bethany, have long been part of the synoptic tradition, but this is the first time their brother has been introduced. Second, Mary, Martha’s sister, is identified in John’s Lazarus story as the woman who washed Jesus’ feet and anointed them, an identification never advanced before. Third, the episode to which this reference refers has not happened yet in John’s gospel. Fourth, we are told that when Jesus is made aware of Lazarus’ sickness, he makes no effort to go to Bethany. Indeed he waits four days after Lazarus has died. Fifth, both Mary and Martha give voice to their resentment when they say that Jesus’ slowness in arriving doomed their brother to death. Finally, the Johannine author uses this narrative to record one of the “I am” sayings for which this gospel is noted. The “I am” saying combines the name of God, “I am,” with a claim about Jesus’ power, in this case portraying Jesus as “resurrection and life,” and thus as the only doorway to God. We need to grasp in these details the impossibility of this being a literal story. Note the way the story is told. The funeral is a public event attended by many, including some who are enemies of Jesus. The body has been dead for four days, the process of decay is well advanced. Jesus approaches the cave over which a large stone has been placed. He orders the stone removed. Martha objects because of the length of days he has been dead. The King James Bible quotes her as saying, “already he stinketh.” Jesus overrules her objection. The stone is rolled away. Jesus calls Lazarus to come forth. This strange creature wrapped in burial clothes that cover his entire body comes out of the tomb and is unbound. Everyone attending this public event reacts. The enemies of Jesus move immediately to rid the world of Jesus. Yet, despite the public nature of this very dramatic event, no one anywhere records this story for 65-70 years until John does so in his gospel! Surely something else besides literal history is going on here. There are no biblical antecedents to this narrative. No miracle story anywhere in the Hebrew Scriptures is similar to this one. We search the Moses and Elijah cycles for leads in vain. There is, however, one other Lazarus in the New Testament. Could he be a clue? He is a character in a parable told only by Luke. In that parable, Lazarus, a poor beggar, and a rich man both die. Lazarus goes to Abraham’s bosom; the rich man to a place of torment. The rich man begs Abraham to send Lazarus with water to quench his thirst. Abraham replies there is no route than can take one from where Lazarus is to where the rich man is. Then the rich man begs Abraham to warn his brethren lest they too come to this place of torment. Abraham reminds the rich man that his brothers have Moses and the prophets. If they don’t hear Moses and the prophets, he says, they will not listen even if one is raised from the dead. This parable of Luke has surely been turned into history by John. Lazarus returns from the dead. No one listens. Indeed the raising of Lazarus, says John, actually sets in motion the crucifixion of Jesus. The story is not a supernatural act, it is another interpretive symbol. This convinces me that there is a way to interpret 1st century miracle stories other than as supernatural events. We have imposed an unnatural literalness on these stories that was never intended by the gospel writers. These miraculous narratives are interpretive signs used to tell the Jesus story. The requirement made by the fundamentalists that miracle stories must be accepted as literally true is thus revealed again to be an irrational fundamentalist claim based on misunderstood realties. Christianity is indeed far more than this. ~  John Shelby Spong | | | | | | | | Announcements Two new classes from the Chaplaincy Institute   Serving Those Who Identify as Spiritual But Not Religious (SBNR) June 11 - 12, 2019 Berkeley, CA  In this 2-day course participants will explore different forms of ministry that may serve the SBNR. Collectively, we will look at where SBNR community is found, or emerging, and envision ways to nurture this part of our communal spiritual landscape.  READ ON ...  The Intersection of Science & Spirit June 13 - 15, 2019 Berkeley, CA  This 3-day course will focus on science itself as a source of wonder, contemplation and transformative meaning.   READ ON ... | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | Copyright © 2019 ProgressiveChristianity.org, All rights reserved. You have subscribed to our Weekly Essay and/or Q & A emails. Our mailing address is: 4810 Pt. 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