Dropping out

By Ian Harris in Articles

People may have stopped attending traditional church, but continue a questioning faith

"Ceased to attend." That was one of the options available to ministers filling in statistical returns for the church I grew up in. Over the years that tally has swelled until, taken across every denomination, it probably far outnumbers all those who still go regularly to church.

Not all of them, however, will tick the "no religion" box on their census forms next month. Many retain a lingering belief that within the Christian tradition lie truths that matter, values they uphold, and reminders that there is more to life than turning up at work, raising the family, and filling their leisure time productively. In short, a spiritual dimension.

Yet somehow their churches didn't quite satisfy them. Worship demanded assent to creeds that belong to another age and another world, preachers upheld doctrines they could no longer believe and chose hymns that curdled in the singing. If those who had become uneasy ever ventured doubts or questions, they knew they would either upset church-goers secure in the time-honoured formulas, or be dumped on.

The dissonance grew to become a crisis of integrity. In the end, they reasoned that it would be less trouble all round if they quietly dropped out. They would take their questions with them, while leaving the door open for further exploration one day . . . maybe.

A four-year stint as director of communication for the Presbyterian Church made me acutely aware of this malaise. So with a small group in Wellington, I proposed in 1988 that the church should recognise these people's dilemma and provide a space, alongside all its other activities, where the issues of such people could be openly explored. The answer was "no".

That was myopic, for the emergence of a secular culture in the western world has fundamentally changed the ball game. The 18th-century Enlightenment, the rise of science and a fundamental shift in the way people understand the world call for a thorough re-think of the Christian tradition and the way it is expressed.

It helps to remember that all theology is interpretation, not truth set in concrete. And fortunately, 200 years of probing biblical scholarship have provided some of the essential tools for the job.

So why not claim the freedom to re-interpret the Christian tradition, spurred by our own knowledge and world-view rather than the time-bound and culture-bound understandings of 1st-century Jews, 4th-century Greeks, medieval Italians, or Renaissance Germans?

There are, of course, adventurous scholars and pockets within the churches who are committed to this re-thinking - indeed, that is where all the exciting stuff is happening. But it trickles down to congregations unevenly, if at all. And there are many who would rather not know.

That makes the mushrooming of alternative groups around New Zealand particularly significant. The impetus to form them usually comes from lay people who want to push beyond the traditional concepts, rites and structures to find religious meaning within their secular understanding of the world. Open-ended questioning and being honest with themselves matter more to them than toeing any ecclesiastical line.

From one such group comes the comment: "Members value the freedom to express thoughts and opinions and doubts that are not always welcome elsewhere." From another: "Many involved say they have found it wonderfully liberating to have the freedom to honestly explore Christianity the way we do."

Each group charts its own course and operates in its own way. They meet in church lounges, homes, restaurants, even pubs. Some retain a link with a local parish, others draw from across the denominations, others again are right outside any church orbit.

While most participants have a church background, the groups are usually open to anyone who wishes to share their search for an understanding of faith uncluttered by literalism, supernaturalism and obsolete views of the human condition.

They are in good company. Decades ago, theologian Paul Tillich, a refugee from Nazi Germany, saw the boundary as the most creative place to be. American Baptist theologian Harvey Cox predicted: "The church of the future will emerge at the edges of the existing church."

Neither, however, rejected the place of the church within the Christian scheme of things - and nor do most groups that have formed at one remove from it. What they share is a radically different view of what that church might be like.

The names of some of those groups give a flavour of how they see themselves: Explorers, Frontiers of Faith, Cutting Edge, Groove, Quandaries, Learning and Discovery, XploratioNZ, Sea of Faith.

Another calls itself Ephesus. More on that next time.

-- Ian Harris.

This article was first published in the Faith and Reason column of the Otago Daily Times, February 25, 2011.