Embodied, synchronous, deep, and collective. These are adjectives that The Atlantic writer Derek Thompson uses to describe religious ritual in his article entitled “The True Cost of the Churchgoing Bust.” Relationship with organized religion, he writes, facilitates a connection to the divine, gives us a historical narrative of our identity, provides us with a set of rituals to organize the week and year, and embeds us in a community of families. And according to a new survey of 5,600 US adults by the Public Religion Research Institute, more than one-quarter of Americans now identity as atheists, agnostics, or religiously “unaffiliated.” This is the highest level of non-religiosity in the poll’s history. In 2021, membership in houses of worship fell below a majority for the first time on record.

From Thompson’s perspective, this is a problem, in that the connection to community and collective life has not been replaced by something else. It’s like if everyone stopped going to sit-down restaurants and never found another social activity to replace their dining out time. People would, and are, spending more time alone, and we’re all suffering for it.

While I read this analysis with some sadness because our church too, has seen worship attendance drop significantly in recent years, I read with more curiosity the ways that Thompson describes the benefits of religious affiliation. It motivated me to responded with the questions why? And what’s next?

Of course, I agree with his assessment that being a part of a religious body connects us to each other. That religious ritual grounds us in our body and helps us make meaning. No doubt! These are truths I hold in the core of my being; it’s why I go to work every day. We need each other, and I find “the other” in this faith community. Simultaneously, this church helps me see that my neighborhood is not just within the four walls of this church. It grounds and expands my sense of community. I find God in the relational connections people make with each other. I know I’m not the only member of this church who feels this way.

To some extent, we all experienced the loss of connection during Covid. But it appears that the forced isolation accelerated a trend of loneliness and disaffiliation that had started long before the pandemic.

When looking at these trends, I think it’s easy to do two things: 1) despair at the loss of our social connections generally, and 2) act smug about how we have what others don’t. Again, it leads me to ask why? Why aren’t people returning to places that once gave them, or their ancestors meaning? While this is a big question with many different answers, I do believe that the church has to do some self-reflection here. Have we played a part in turning people away? Sure, we have. Historically (and currently, in some cases), Christianity has inflicted all sorts of religious trauma on people. Unfortunately, we’ve given people very good reasons not to walk through our doors.

What about today, in 2024, at The Congregational Church of Middlebury? I’d like to think that we do a good job of hospitably welcoming people in. I believe that we mean it when we say, “No matter who you are, or where you are on this journey, you are welcome here.” We aren’t perfect, but we do our best to walk the walk.

Friends, I want to reverse this trend. I want to reverse this trend, not because I want to ensure my paycheck every month or because I think we have the antidote to the world’s problems. I want more people to find connection, to find meaning, to find one another around tables that are big enough for all, because the world needs it more than ever. I want people to come through our doors because I believe that community is worth finding and investing in. I believe God is incarnational—meaning God is found in the messiness of relationships and service and grief and joy. We are happier and healthier when we work together for the good of this world. It doesn’t take an Atlantic writer to tell us that.

These last few months, the Stewardship Team has invited our six Boards and Church Council to explore ways to become more connected to each other and grow our reach in the community. While this endeavor was motivated, in part, by a dip in pledges during our 2023 stewardship campaign, it is a question with a genuine desire to create more loving community in this place. As I’ve sat around the table during these conversations, I have heard some wonderful ideas. One thing, however, that so far I haven't heard is this: let’s work to invite our friends and neighbors to church! I know, we’re shy! We live in Vermont! We’re allergic to evangelism! We don’t want to pressure our friends to “find Jesus”! I get it, and I feel it too. Interestingly enough, however, personal invitation by someone you know is the MOST effective way of increasing church attendance. It makes sense, but it is a vulnerable thing to do. We have to ask ourselves if the benefits we receive from this place are worth sharing with others in this way. 

If we believe in the work we’re doing here, with God’s help, I gently, but enthusiastically, urge us to make this one of our communal efforts. Spread the word. Not for the sake of Salvation, or the annual budget, or so we can be the biggest game in town, but because the world needs stronger community, deeper love, wider tables.

Amen?

I am so grateful to be a part of this place. I thank God for each of you every day.

Peace,

Elizabeth