Approach/Avoidance

Whenever, while traveling, the topic turns to religion it never ceases to amaze me how many good people I meet who used to go to church but no longer do.  Frankly, I find them more interesting than those who have been unquestioningly plunking their butts down in the pews Sunday after Sunday for years.

What I am hearing is a variation on the same theme: “I used to go but it no longer seemed important or of value to me.”  Sometimes the problem in presented as a “judgmental” attitude on the part of not only clergy but their fellow parishioners.  Sometimes it is hypocrisy (see my earlier post about the church’s decline being tied to the rise and fall of tele-evangelists.)  For former church-goers the church has lost its meaning.

I think this may be linked to an approach/avoidance syndrome not only on the part of the people they were called to serve but of the church.

When I was little there was a large Lutheran church on the corner of my block.  I was taken to Sunday School there by and neighbor and loved the singing.  As they approached Confirmation age they purchased a new pipe organ and I was mesmerized by the sounds that it made.  Huge, impressive, big sounds.

But the church gave out mixed messages.

While I would get a postcard in the mail if I missed a Sunday or two the property seemed off limits during the week.

It had a sidewalk between the parsonage and church building that was perfect for riding bikes.  We saw it as a safe place where, as little people, we could ride around in circles for hours without ever having to go in the street.

But, every time we would ride there, the pastor, who was probably younger then than I am now but seemed to be quite ancient, would be staring out his study window.  Instead of waving a friendly hello and smiling he would scowl and wave a menacing finger as if to say: “Hey!  You!  Get off the property.” 

I could never figure this out.  They wanted me to be there on Sunday so badly that they mailed me postcards if I missed but if I was there on Tuesday they would rather I ride my bicycle on the sidewalk or the street. 

I was stuck in the perfect “Approach/Avoidance” conflict.  I could approach the church only when they said so and only on their terms.

Everyone who has ever served on a church council has experienced the same thing.  At the same meeting you would hear: “How can we get more youth involved in the church?”  And, “Why does the Youth Group always leave the kitchen in such a mess?  They never put things back where they belong!”

As a pastor, and before as a member, I always wondered why they wanted more kids in their building if they weren’t willing to bear the burden of some wear and tear.

Mostly these behaviors are played out in more subtle forms.

I remember hearing a eulogy for an 104 member of the same  congregation I grew up in that was given by her son.  He spoke of all the good times they had.  He spoke of the Senior Choir and how his mom and another woman always led the procession.  (I would guess the unwritten rule was “God forbid that anyone should try to take that prized position from them.”) He spoke of Halloween parties.  He spoke of the couple’s club. (The straight couple's club!)  He spoke of bake sales and clean up days but he never spoke of the church as having any kind of mission outside of the congregation. 

I’ll bet that if they described themselves they would say they were a friendly

congregation.  Had there been “consultants” in those days it would have been determined that they were friendly but only to each other.  They approached each other while at the same time avoided everybody else.

They unintentionally revealed this for all to see in the history book that was published at their closing.

Nebo’s congregation entered the fourth quarter-century of its existence in a refurbished building full of optimism ... but ominous changes were underway.  The very nature and character, or more inclusively, the demographics of Nebo’s constituent neighborhood continued to slowly evolve.  In the parlance of the new demographics many of the newer residents would be classified as the “upwardly mobile,” and they left traditional neighborhoods for a new lifestyle offered by areas adjacent to downtown, or more likely, in the suburbs.  Their houses and apartments in Nebo’s neighborhood were in turned filled by people with different ethnic and religious backgrounds, many directly from foreign countries.1

OMG!

This is not an isolated experience.

Upon it’s closing this was said about North Austin Lutheran Church:

As parishioners moved to the suburbs and Austin became a largely African-American neighborhood, what was once one of the nation's largest Lutheran congregations dwindled to just 10 members.

The church offered ministries including a food pantry and after-school program. African-Americans living near the church were invited to attend, but the hymns remained the same ones favored by the old-timers, and few stayed.2 

You think?

Sadly, these Paleozoic attitudes continue to this day.

I once stupidly suggested to a Campus Ministry that was struggling for money and members that since they were located a relatively long way from any other churches they might want to reach out to people in their neighborhood.

I was thinking about real people I knew.  The couple with three children under the age of six who might want to walk to church instead of going through the process of loading them into the car for a ten minute drive.  Or people of any age who can’t or don’t drive and might like to walk to church.  I also thought it would be great for students to learn to worship and work with people who were not like themselves.

The chaplain’s response was (And how I wish I was making this up!)  “As long as they are not weirdos.” 

Can you see that nothing has changed? 

The people who might need us must live up to some arbitrary standard that we are making up on the fly.  They are welcome so long as they don’t ride bikes on the property on Tuesday.  They are welcome as long as they belong to the same racial, economic, or sexual orientation background as we do.  They are welcome so long as they are not “weird.”  A stipulation that would exclude not only me but everybody I know or would choose to be associated with.

I point out that Jesus had a propensity to love the weird and those who were different from him.  I think that Jesus would throw open the doors of the church to everybody and I think that is the ministry the church should model. 

It should be rooted in the vision of former Fourth Presbyterian Church pastor Dr. Elam Davies, who had the radical idea that the church should serve and welcome “the least, the lost, and the lonely” with dignity and respect.

Maybe then the unchurched would see the church as something of value as they are welcomed in their weirdness.

___________

1. Edmonson, Harold. "The History of Nebo." Parish Directory, 1998, March 29, 1998.  p.  27.

2. Brachear, Manya. "Old guard at church moving on." The Chicago Tribune, September 07, 2007. Accessed February 22, 2018. http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2007-09-07/news/0709060868_1_lutheran-churches-historic-church-churches-of-other-denominations.