I would have written about this last week when the news was more fresh, but no matter. I’ll get to it now. The Gallup poll recently released to the public reveals what has long been evident. U.S. church membership has fallen beyond 50% for the first time. Knowing what we know now, the questions of those who identify as church activists then become a) how to ensure that existing religious groups maintain their numbers, b) the role that church plays in our increasingly secular society, and c) if organized religion can stay pertinent to future generations. These are the first three questions that come to mind. I’m sure if I thought about the matter even more I could formulate a whole list.
The two major trends driving the drop in church membership -- more adults with no religious preference and falling rates of church membership among people who do have a religion -- are apparent in each of the generations over time.
Since the turn of the century, there has been a near doubling in the percentage of traditionalists (from 4% to 7%), baby boomers (from 7% to 13%) and Gen Xers (11% to 20%) with no religious affiliation.
In pondering this matter more intensely, I think I can wager an educated guess as to where organized religion is headed, at least in some respect. It’s going underground, or at least stealth. There will always be its adherents and those who find great meaning in faith, but I’d like to use the example of a good friend of mine. She is a conservative (theologically, not politically) Quaker who lives in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. This is the heart of Amish country, and as such, the Meeting is strongly influenced by the reclusive, separatist ways of its neighbors. If we are to interpret “church membership” in the Gallup survey as religious practice, then we could well expect isolated cells of believers from here going forward, situated and structured in a similar fashion. They cling to notions of absolute purity.
Anyone who has read my posts over time know that I am very saddened at what has transpired; the way that Americans have gravitated away from church membership and identification. Faith and belief have been kind to me over the years, through many trying times. I have sought to keep both relevant to the world and to society at large, to live my life as examples of them, and, should anyone ask what the religious life is like, to let my very existence speak. But when the importance of church, or for that matter, any house of worship, is lessened and not reinforced, which has been the case recently, then it simply does not become a priority. Lots of people would, nowadays, rather use their Sunday mornings for other reasons and other purposes.
Down here in the Bible Belt, the megachurch model has been quite successful, but it’s really just a gussied up, 21st Century version of the smells and bells of high church ritual, albeit with rock music, skits, and religion as theatre. And it’s a conservative model of Christianity, the kind that has perverted the faith through false teachings, false prophets, and deceptive interpretations of the Bible. They are good to tend their flock, at least, but as I am not a conservative Republican, I would find no home there.
Impressing worshipers with showmanship is one approach, but I’d rather reach into the hearts and souls of people rather than trying to wow them. If we can’t do that, then progressive organized religion will, as I said, splinter even further into a thousand cells, each even more of a minority than what came before. And the jovial backslapping and welcoming attitudes that usually characterize a visit to a house of worship might render every visitor automatically suspect among some, needing the secret handshake to get into the clubhouse. Quakers tried that, quite unsuccessfully, during our Quietist Period, wherein we read out (disowned) multiple members for such unpardonable sins as marrying outside our own circles or not conforming to appropriate styles of dress.
And the only way to lead believers to God, or whatever higher deity that enriches them spiritually is to teach others in the ways to find direction by the Divine. My friends who do not understand my faith are absolutely mystified and perplexed at the meaning I assign to belief. To them, faith is an empty exercise that promises nothing. Their prayers go nowhere. Their efforts towards belief are all for naught. Part of the reason I got divorced is that my ex-wife’s faith, which had never been supple, was taxed by fourteen days of waiting in hospice care for her mother to pass away from stomach cancer. When her mother passed away, so did her faith. Not just her faith in God, but her faith in a higher power that could intercede in her life. Her belief in God left her, as did her belief in me and in us.
But then again, as I am fond of saying, faith and belief is like a muscle. When not used regularly, the two of them quickly atrophy with time. My former partner’s faith, not learned in childhood, was weak and when a tragedy struck, she had nothing to rely upon from God or a higher power. That is the true tragedy of how quickly, cavalierly, and glibly we are when we are dismissive of church. I have always been a believer because I embrace the notion of mystery and the great unknowable. To me, giving in to unbelief is too easy a solution, and it is for this reason that I fight the eternal skeptics that seem to grow more and more prevalent every day.