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Tag: First Century Christianity

Can Christianity be Deinstitutionalized?

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Jesse on the hit Evangelical show Preacher says NO. 🙂

Recently, Martin Thielen, a retired United Methodist minister, asked, “Can Christianity be deinstitutionalized?”

Thielen writes:

For a growing number of modern believers, the old familiar institutional dynamics are unraveling. The doctrines are no longer relevant. The creeds are no longer believable. The traditions are no longer meaningful. The liturgy is no longer helpful. The rigid structures are no longer palatable.

What’s a Christian to do when centuries-old institutionalism no longer holds? What happens to followers of Jesus when they, like Brooks, contemplate departing the institutionalized religion of their past and face a changing world without the familiar structures that used to ground them? It can be disorientating indeed.

I’m not suggesting it’s time to throw away all the vestiges of institutional Christianity. As already noted, for many people, the old wineskins still work. But a growing number of restless believers are looking for new wineskins of Christian expression. They want less institution and more flexibility. Less certainty and more ambiguity. Less arrogance and more humility. Less doctrine and more connection. Less exclusion and more inclusion. Less focus on creeds and more focus on compassion. Less time meeting in church buildings and more time serving in the community.

In short, a lot of 21st-century believers are seeking a post-institutionalized (or at least a less institutionalized) version of Christianity.

Outside of members of sects such as the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) church movement, who love to call themselves “old-fashioned” — meaning “we worship just like the first-century church did” — most Christians know that the Christianity of the twenty-first century bears little to no resemblance to that practiced in the first century. (Please see What Independent Baptists Mean When They Use the Phrase “Old-Fashioned.”) If Jesus and his disciples showed up for worship on a Sunday at your average Evangelical church, they likely wouldn’t recognize anything remotely similar to worship and practice in 50 CE.

Thielen continues:

In the first two centuries CE, we do not see anything resembling contemporary “Christianity” or, for that matter, “Christianity” as it was in the later ancient world, in the Middle Ages, or across human history. In the first two centuries, what we think of as “Christianity” did not exist.

For example, during the first 200 years after Jesus — and before institutional Christianity became the norm — there were:

âž±No set doctrinal beliefs

âž±No set structure or organization

âž±No set order of church leadership

âž±No set authoritative Christian writings

âž±No set traditions, liturgies or sacraments

âž±No set Christology

âž±No set name for the movement

According to “After Jesus Before Christianity” [by Erin Vearncombe, Brandon Scott and Hal Taussig], the early Jesus movement was open-ended, fluid, noncentralized and diverse. It had no settled theological orthodoxy, no “New Testament,” no formal clergy and no established ecclesiastical structure. In short, it was not yet institutionalized.

Growth, change, and maturity are typical for human institutions. My partner and I have been married for almost forty-six years. Our relationship is very different today from what it was in 1978. The U.S. Supreme Court settles constitutional issues on behalf of the American people (at least some of them). There are two approaches to interpreting the Constitution. One approach reads and interprets the Constitution as it was originally written. The other approach reads and interprets the Constitution as a living, breathing, evolving document. Just today, the Court agreed to settle the issue of whether disgraced ex-president Donald Trump, can appear on the Colorado ballot. How the nine Court justices view the Constitution will certainly come into play and likely decide this issue.

Thielen thinks Christianity needs to return to its “original intent.” However, thanks to 2,000 years of complicated history, Christianity is far removed from its original intent. Christianity, much like the U.S. Constitution, is a “living, breathing, evolving” institution. I will be sixty-seven on my next birthday. Historically, I can see how much Christianity has changed and evolved over its twenty-one-century history. I can also see how Christianity has changed in my own lifetime. I spent fifty years in the Evangelical church. While some things remain the same as when I was coming of age in the 60s and 70s, other things have dramatically changed. Even IFB churches have changed, albeit much slower than the rest of Evangelicalism. Whatever Christian churches have become today, they look nothing like those planted by Paul and others in the early days of Christianity.

Can Christianity be deinstitutionalized? The short answer is no. I suspect Thielen knows this, and what he really desires is a less institutionalized church. However, I question if even this is possible. Once humans gather together in groups, institutionalism is sure to follow. In the 1980s, I started a youth fellowship in southeast Ohio. At its height, fifteen churches participated in the fellowship. The fellowship was organic, without officers and structure. However, over time, some pastors began clamoring for organization — complete with officers, offerings, and doctrinal/social standards. Things went south quickly when an argument broke out over Calvinism — mainly my Calvinism. It was not long after that the fellowship disintegrated and everyone went their separate ways. Why couldn’t some of these pastors leave well enough alone? In their minds, progress required organization. I, of course, disagreed.

In the 2000s, I became disenchanted with organized Christianity and started to rethink my approach to ministry. For a time, I was enamored with the house church movement. I thought, at the time, that house churches reflected the simple nature and practice of the first-century church — albeit imperfectly. However, as time went along, I noticed that the house church movement had its own institutional structures and controls. Supposedly, everyone was equal before the Lord, but it quickly became clear that some people — mainly men — were more important than others. The same cult of personality that I saw in institutional Christianity was present in a nascent form in the house church movement. (Please see The Evangelical Cult of Personality.)

I concluded that Christianity could not be rescued; that whatever first-century Christianity might have been, it no longer existed. In its place, we have countless Christianities, complete with Jesuses molded and shaped into our image. Take the average Evangelical megachurch — which is little more than a social club where likeminded people gather for entertainment from an AWESOME band and a dope, hip, designer clothes-wearing felt needs dispenser named Pastor Smooth. Do you see anything that remotely resembles the early church? Would Jesus put his stamp of approval on these multi-million-dollar monuments to “coolness” and corporate Christianity? I doubt it.

While Christianity can’t deinstitutionalize, it can try to trim the fat and excess and embrace the teachings of Jesus as found in the Sermon on the Mount. Imagine if churches committed to following the two great commands: loving God, loving your neighbor as yourself? (Please see What is TRUE Christianity?) Imagine if churches fired their pastors and told them to get real jobs, using the money spent on salaries and benefits to minister to the least of these? Imagine if churches took seriously Christ’s teachings about ministering to widows, orphans, and the poor? Imagine if church buildings became community centers, open to all? Imagine if leaders stopped writing books and traveling the conference speaking circuit, choosing to invest their time and money in laying treasure up in Heaven? The church can be better, so much so that even an atheist might look at it and say, “I see Jesus in you!” I have no confidence that this will happen any time soon — if ever. More likely, Christianity will continue to morph and change, moving farther and farther away from the early church.

Note: I am not suggesting that Christianity is “true.” As an atheist, I reject the central claims of Christianity. However, I am suggesting that as a social institution, modern Christianity is far removed from its roots, so much so that it is unrecognizable from the first century church. Christianity ain’t going away, but it sure as Hell can do better.

Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

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Christian Clichés: The Church is WHO We Are, Not WHERE We Go

church-is-who-we-are

As I was driving to my grandson’s baseball game several years ago, a message on an Evangelical church’s sign caught my attention. It said, The Church is WHO We Are, Not WHERE We Go. I chuckled as I read the sign, saying to myself, and I bet everyone who attends this church really believes this message is true. Evangelicals love their clichĂ©s. This one, in particular, presents a worthy, thoughtful sentiment, but does it represent how things really are in most Evangelical churches? This clichĂ© suggests that the “church” is the people, and not the steeple. Is this really true? I think not.

I am an old, crusty curmudgeon these days. I have seen a lot of “church” in my lifetime, and, even now, I continue to pay attention to what churches say and what they actually do. Rarely do their words match their works. Christians may want to believe that the “church” is the people, but their actions suggest that buildings, steeples, and land are the church, and they are willing to fight to the death to hang on to their material possessions.

We are two thousand years removed from when Jesus walked the streets of Jerusalem and later died on a Roman cross. His early followers met in the outer court of the Temple, in homes, and anywhere two or three of them were gathered together. The early church didn’t own buildings or land, nor did they have bands, programs, colleges, seminaries, or paid pastors. The Apostle Paul, the ministerial gold standard, was bivocational. He didn’t have a 401(k), medical and dental insurance, paid vacation, or a church-provided automobile. I roll with laughter when a pastor says his church is just like the church of the first century. Really? In what way?

Clergymen are religious professionals who are paid to preach sermons, visit the sick, bury the dead, and wed the clueless. Much like their counterparts in the “world,” clergymen have insurance, vacation benefits, and retirement plans. These humble men of God are also given special Federal and state tax breaks that are available to no one but them. These tax breaks save ministers hundreds and thousands of dollars a year. And because the churches they pastor are considered by default to be tax-exempt, pastors can also buy automobiles, books, computers, and anything else related to the “work” of the ministry and not pay sales tax on their purchases. But wait, there’s more! as TV pitchman Billy Mays would say. Clergymen also receive the same tax benefits as business owners/self-employed people, and, if they so choose, they can opt out of paying Social Security taxes. There is nothing pastors do — not even their preaching and teaching — that remotely resembles what is recorded in the gospels or the book of Acts. Whatever the early church might have been, it died centuries ago and no longer exists. In its place is what is called the ”institutional church” or ”organized Christianity.”  Evangelicalism, both at the church and denominational level, is a hungry machine that requires people and their money to fuel its work.

So, the church is certainly the people, but is also buildings, lands, and material goods. I live in an area that has a static, aging population. Dreamers speak of the days coming when our downtown areas will be bustling once again with people and commerce and churches are filled with people worshiping the Lord. These wearers of rose-colored glasses believe rural Ohio communities will return to the glory years of the 1950s. Millions of dollars are spent revitalizing local communities, yet nothing changes. Old people die, young people move away, and some dumb-ass business guru thinks we need one more pizza place. These eternal optimists never seem to see things as they are. I love listening to their magnificent plans, but I am a pessimist — also known as a realist — and I know that our glory days are behind us and all we can do is maintain what we have. One local politician suggested building a multi-million-dollar tri-bridge across the confluence of the Maumee and Auglaize rivers. Throw in some bike trails and dog-walking parks, and young professionals will want to stay or move into the area because of our wonderful amenities. I ask, and exactly where are they going to work? And does anyone seriously believe that someone is going to relocate here just because we have a fancy bridge? Stop with the nonsense, and see things as they are, and not as you wish-upon-a-star hope they will be.

Local churches are also in numeric and financial decline. More than a few local churches are on life support, managing financially from bequests from the estates of dead members. There are a hundred or so Christian churches within a thirty-minute drive from my home. Many of these churches are struggling congregations that would be better off if they closed their doors or merged with other churches. Why do they continue to hang on? Simple. The church may, to some degree, be the people, but it most certainly is buildings, lands, and stuff.  When faced with closure, churches will go to great lengths to hang on to their buildings. In their minds, they cease to be the church if they don’t have a building.

There are a lot of Methodist churches in rural Northwest Ohio. Most of these churches have small attendances, and are often pastored by men or women who pastor two or three churches at a time. Some of these churches are just a few miles away from one another. If, as the aforementioned clichĂ© says, the church is the people and not their buildings, why don’t these small, struggling, near-death churches merge? Why? you ask. They would have to give up their buildings. Additionally, some of these churches are sitting on thousands of dollars. This money is used to keep the church afloat. If they merged with another church, that church would get all their money! No, we will not merge, churches say. Our communities NEED us! I thought the church is the people, and not buildings and lands. Jesus and his disciples did not concern themselves with this world’s goods. Shouldn’t twenty-first-century Christians follow in their steps?

I have witnessed and been part of countless church fights over material things. Several churches I pastored were sitting on large sums of cash, saving it for . . .? Well, no one could ever tell me what they were saving it for. In their minds, the value of their churches was reflected by buildings and bank account balances. These followers of Jesus would love to see attendance increases, but if that doesn’t happen, at least they have a beautiful near-empty building and lots of cash on deposit at the local bank. First Baptist Church — Making Jesus Proud for 200 Hundred Years! The pews are empty, the baptismal is dry, but, hey, did you see our fancy state-of-the-art kitchen and air-conditioned dining hall? Praise God!

Evangelicals love to present themselves as people who are above the fray; people who are devoted followers of Jesus; people who walk in the steps of the early church; people who are, thanks to the saving grace of God, morally and ethically superior. However, when the façade is ripped away, what we find is that Christians love this world every bit as much as atheists, agnostics, humanists, and other non-Christians. Their love of this world is reflected in the churches they attend; churches with expensive, ornate buildings; churches with overpriced, incestuous (helping fat sheep get fatter) ministry costs; churches with paid staffs, complete with all the benefits white-collar workers enjoy in the business world. These churches are often sitting on thousands and thousands of dollars. One banker told me, Bruce, if I told you their names, you be shocked by which churches in town have hundreds of thousands of dollars on deposit at our bank. He knew the church I pastored didn’t have two nickels to rub together. We literally lived from offering plate to hand. In the eleven years I pastored the church, I never received a regular weekly salary. For a while, the church took up a weekly offering for me and my family. This was great on the weeks people loved my sermon, not so much when they didn’t. This is not to say that we weren’t “worldly” too. We were, spending thousands of dollars and man-hours on our buildings and property. We may — in my opinion — have done “church” better than the Methodists and Presbyterians, but we loved the here-and-now too.

The clichĂ©, The Church is WHO We Are, Not WHERE We Go, might be credible if it were lived out day by day by Christian people. But, it’s not. A nearby mainline church with an attendance of twenty-five or so people recently dropped $250,000 on repairs and upgrades to their building. Why? Wouldn’t it be better if churches merged? More people, more money, more outreach, right? Instead, dozens and dozens of local churches are hanging on until the last person with a key dies or Jesus returns to earth. Granted, churches — which are private clubs — are free to do whatever it is they want to do. Most Christians derive psychological benefits from belonging to a church. Being part of a Christian club gives them a sense of purpose and meaning. Who am I, then, to criticize what they do or don’t do?

I would agree with this sentiment if it wasn’t for the fact that many churches believe that they are making a difference in their communities; that they are indispensable; that if their church buildings were no longer there, local communities would suffer. It’s this bigger-than-life attitude of churches with which I have a problem. There are seven churches within five miles of my home: three Church of God, one Methodist, one Catholic, and two generic Evangelical churches. If all of these churches closed their doors tomorrow, community life would go on without a hitch. Members of these churches would certainly feel loss, but the rest of us? Ho hum, off to work we go. I see no meaningful imprint on the community from these churches. None. And that’s fine as long as these churches are just places for weekly social gatherings and fellowships. It’s when they take on in their minds a larger-than-life view of themselves that I begin to take a closer look at what they actually do compared to what they own and spend their money on. From my seat in the atheist pew, it sure seems to me that, yes, the church is the people, but those people sure are focused on buildings, bank accounts, padded pews, and all the creature comforts life can afford. It seems — dare I say it? — that most churches are in no hurry to pack their bags and leave this world of earthly sorrow; that having the next church BBQ, bake sale, rummage sale, ice cream social, and fried chicken dinner is far more important than caring for the sick, feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, and caring for widows and orphans.

Bruce Gerencser, 67, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 46 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Connect with me on social media:

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.