doctrine

, , , , ,

Latest empty tomb, inc., numbers: Do churches still have funds for charity and missions?

, , , , ,
Latest empty tomb, inc., numbers: Do churches still have funds for charity and missions?

Back in the heady church-growth days of the 1980s and 1990s, researchers John and Sylvia Ronsvalle began hearing caution creep into their interviews with church leaders.

Denominational leaders were especially uncomfortable when asked about declines in giving to overseas missions and projects to help the poor.

Sylvia Ronsvalle said the leader of one large congregation gave this blunt response: "Ah! No! We can't promote missions because there won't be enough for our seminaries." She responded: "Well, I think people would be more interested in your seminaries if you were actually impacting global needs in Jesus' name."

That encounter, and many others, ended up in "Behind the Stained Glass Windows: Money Dynamics in the Church," one of many publications the Ronsvalles have produced while leading empty tomb, inc. Their center also serves as a hub for missions in Champaign, Illinois, their home for 50 years.

Danger signs began decades ago. Giving to religious groups -- defined in terms of potential donations based on after-tax incomes -- peaked in 1960 and then began to decline, even as church membership numbers and budgets kept rising.

This trend "pre-dated many of the controversial issues that were to emerge by the end of the 1960s," noted the 31st annual empty tomb report, based on 2019 numbers. In mainline and evangelical denominations "per member giving in current dollars, as well as in inflation-adjusted dollars and as a portion of income" was lower in 2019 than the year before.

Then COVID-19 hit. But the pandemic's impact in pews only made an ongoing charity funding crisis more obvious, said Sylvia Ronsvalle, in a telephone interview.

Membership and worship attendance numbers plummeted in recent decades in mainline churches and are now declining or plateaued in many evangelical groups. Meanwhile, marriage and birth rates keep falling, while the number of religiously unaffiliated Americans -- the so-called "Nones" -- keeps rising.

The result is a survival mindset in which religious leaders focus on the "bottom line," leading to fewer efforts to support mission work of all kinds.

, , , , , ,

2022 update: Catholic doctrines on sin, hell, repentance, grace and heaven have changed?

, , , , , ,
2022 update: Catholic doctrines on sin, hell, repentance, grace and heaven have changed?

For centuries, Irish Catholics heard priests deliver sermons about sin, hell, repentance, grace and heaven.

Times have changed and an 80-year-old priest in County Kerry didn't get the memo.

"How will people know that God wants to forgive them if we don't tell them?", said Father Sean Sheehy, preaching as a substitute priest at St. Mary's Church, Listowel. "How will people who are lost, be found, if we -- as God's people -- don't call them and say, 'Look, God loves you. He has come to call sinners. But he wants you to have life, and to have it to the full'? …That's what he wants. He wants you to live life to the fullest."

The problem was that Sheehy's October 30 sermon stressed ancient Catholic doctrines on behaviors many modern Catholics refuse to call "sins."

This caused a media storm, including this Irish Times headline: "Fr Sheen Sheehy's Listowel sermon was an uncomfortable reminder of who we really were." Also, Kerry Bishop Ray Browne apologized, after 20-plus parishioners walked out of the rite, and barred Sheehy from saying Mass until the parish priest returns to the altar.

During his sermon, Sheehy fiercely condemned core doctrines of the Sexual Revolution, while defending Catholic teachings on marriage and sex.

"What is so sad today is you rarely hear about sin but it's rampant. It's rampant," he said. "We see it, for example, in the legislation of our governments. We see it in the promotion of abortion. We see it in the example of this lunatic approach of transgenderism. We see it, for example, in the promotion of sex between two men and two women.

"That is sinful, that is mortal sin and people don't seem to realize it. … And we need to listen to God about it -- because if we don't, then there is no hope for those people."

, , , , , , ,

Do American believers really want to sit in pews surrounded by their political clones?

, , , , , , ,
Do American believers really want to sit in pews surrounded by their political clones?

Just over half of churchgoing American Protestants went into the tense midterm elections believing that the people in the pews around them would vote the same way they did.

A Lifeway Research online survey in September found that 50% of those in its national panel agreed with the statement, "I prefer to attend a church where people share my political beliefs, while 55% agreed that "My political views match those of most people at my church." At the same time, 10% were not sure about the first question and 22% the second.

"What we are seeing is a pretty complex situation," said Scott McConnell, executive director at Lifeway Research. While churchgoers are divided on the need for political uniformity in their pews, there are enough believers who take that stance to prove that "this is not one or two people that pastors need to talk to and try to understand. This is a GROUP of people in most of our churches and that's something pastors have to deal with now."

This new survey began with questions used in 2017, he noted, and while the results are similar some new trends are clear. In the earlier survey, 51% of the respondents felt their church was politically homogenous, with only 11% "strongly" agreeing. Now, 21% strongly agree. Also, a rising number of believers assume they can predict the politics of others in their churches. In 2017, 30% were unsure if they shared the views of others in their congregations, but that number dropped to 22% this time.

In a survey result clashing with a popular stereotype, those with evangelical beliefs (44%) were less likely than non-evangelicals (54%) to say they wanted a church in which believers shared their political views. The survey defined "evangelical" in doctrinal terms, stressing beliefs such as, "The Bible is the highest authority for what I believe" and "Only those who trust in Jesus Christ alone as their Savior receive God's free gift of eternal salvation." Other significant results included:

* Methodists (88%) and those attending Restorationist movement congregations, such as the Churches of Christ, were more likely (80%) to seek political unity in the pews. Among other flocks, Baptists (47%), Presbyterians (47%), Lutherans (38%) and nondenominational believers (38%) were less likely to do so.

, , , , , , , , ,

LGBTQ Catholic voices rising as Vatican's Synod on Synodality gains momentum

, , , , , , , , ,
LGBTQ Catholic voices rising as Vatican's Synod on Synodality gains momentum

The "Chain of Discipleship" image showed five Catholics celebrating at a church, including a woman in priest's vestments and a person in a rainbow-letters "pride" shirt who is shouting, "We are the young people of the future and the future is now."

This art from the Philadelphia Catholic Higher Education Synod rocked Catholic social media -- especially when it appeared on the Synod of Bishops Facebook page, linked to the ongoing Synod on Synodality that began in 2021.

Catholics at the local, regional and national levels are sending the Vatican input about the church's future. A North Carolina parish submitted testimony from "Matthew (not his real name)," who had been recognized as his Catholic high school's most popular teacher. While "hiding his homosexuality," he married "his partner elsewhere."

"They decide to foster, love and adopt young children internationally," said this report. "Matthew's greatest sadness is that he has to hide his sexuality in order to keep his job in a church institution and that he does not feel welcome in the Catholic Church precisely because of his sexuality which he considers God-given, and this despite his attempt to love the poor and destitute through his pro-life decision to adopt."

Case studies of this kind recently led Belgian bishops to approve a document -- "On Pastoral Closeness to Homosexual People" (.pdf here) -- containing a rite for priests blessing same-sex couples. The bishops appointed a gay layman as inter-diocesan coordinator for LGBTQ care in a land in which 3.6% of baptized Catholics attend Mass on an average Sunday.

Meanwhile, it's important that a Vatican working document includes the term LGBTQ and even LGBTQIA in discussions of topics once considered forbidden, said Francis DeBernardo of New Ways Ministry, a Catholic gay-rights network pushed aside during the Pope St. John Paul II era.

, , , , , ,

Why fairy stories still matter, in an age of secular myths and marvels

, , , , , ,
Why fairy stories still matter, in an age of secular myths and marvels

Demons appear on movie screens all the time, but poet Richard Rohlin is convinced he has actually seen them at work when counseling young people whose search for meaning has driven them deep into experiments with sex, drugs and the occult.

"The stories that I can't tell would curl your toenails," he said, speaking at the Eighth Day Institute in Wichita, Kansas. "If you think that these spiritual realities are not still with us, you are deluding yourself. ... The magic is coming back into the world. Something is happening and it is not an unqualified good."

The young people he works with in Dallas are not interested in sermons and detailed descriptions of why their lives are broken. But they are open to fantasies, myths and tales -- ancient and modern -- about unseen, spiritual realities that interact with their lives.

Millions of Americans know where to find stories about angels, demons, warriors, seers, giants, demigods and heroic kings and queens. They head straight to movie theaters and cable television, where they find entire universes of content offering visions of fantastic worlds. The last place they would seek inspiration of this kind is in churches.

The irony is that some of these works draw inspiration from the fantasy classics celebrated in the ecumenical Eighth Day Institute's annual fall celebration of The Inklings, a mid-20th Century circle of Christian writers in Oxford, England, that included C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien and others.

This year's lectures focused on Scottish writer George MacDonald, often called the "grandfather of the Inklings," who is best known for "Phantastes," "The Golden Key," "Lilith" and many other works. The festival included Celtic and folk musicians, along with workshops on topics such as "The Art of Making Mead" and "Publishing for the Moral Imagination."

The goal of MacDonald and The Inklings, noted Rohlin, was to reclaim an older vision of life in which physical realities corresponded to spiritual realities and nothing was considered purely material. The real divide was between "the seen and the unseen," not between the "spiritual and the material."

, , , , , ,

Apostasy? That word led Bishop FitzSimons Allison out of the Episcopal Church

, , , , , ,
Apostasy? That word led Bishop FitzSimons Allison out of the Episcopal Church

It has been three decades since the Rt. Rev. C. FitzSimons Allison took his first step away from his life as one of the Episcopal Church's strongest evangelical voices.

That tentative move took place in a small-group discussion during an Episcopal House of Bishops meeting in Kanuga, N.C., during his final year serving as the 12th bishop of the historic Diocese of South Carolina. The topic that day was, "Why are we dysfunctional?"

Allison attacked Episcopal priests and seminary professors who were openly proclaiming their faith in an ancient, erotic, divine spirit "older and greater" than the God of the Bible. There was, Allison said, a clear, ancient word for that -- "apostasy."

Other bishops said they had no problem accepting clergy who were testing the boundaries of ancient Christian doctrines.

After that clash, Allison remained in his pew and declined to share the consecrated bread and wine during a Holy Eucharist with the entire House of Bishops. He didn't publicly discuss this act of broken Communion for several years, but his silent protest was a poignant symbol of early cracks forming in the global Anglican Communion.

Now the 95-year-old bishop has officially resigned his status as an Episcopal bishop, making his departure official. Two weeks ago, he wrote U.S. Presiding Bishop Michael Curry to clarify that he had been received into the Anglican Church in North America -- a body recognized as valid by many Anglican bishops in Africa, Asia and the Global South, but not by the Archbishop of Canterbury or leaders in the U.S. Episcopal Church.

"Some people said that I didn't need to do this, because everyone knows where I stand," said Allison, reached by telephone. "But I felt, the way things have been going, that I still needed to make things official. That's just the way I am."

Allison was ordained as a priest in 1953 and then received a doctorate from Oxford University.

, , , ,

Queen Elizabeth II: A queen who always understood the need for Christians to kneel

, , , ,
Queen Elizabeth II: A queen who always understood the need for Christians to kneel

Before wearing the Imperial State Crown, Queen Elizabeth II knelt at the Westminster Abbey altar for a moment of silent, private prayer.

The three-hour coronation in 1953 contained myriad oaths and symbols, but the most ancient rite -- Archbishop of Canterbury Geoffrey Fisher anointing Elizabeth with holy oil -- sought the highest possible blessing on her life's work and eventually her death.

"Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God," he prayed, "who by his Father was anointed with the oil of gladness … that by the assistance of His heavenly grace you may govern and preserve the people committed to your charge in wealth, peace and godliness; and after a long and glorious course of ruling a temporal kingdom wisely, justly and religiously, you may at last be made partaker of an eternal kingdom."

Televised for the first time, 27 million BBC viewers watched what Oxford don C.S. Lewis called the "tragic splendour" of this drama.

“Over here people did not get that fairy-tale feeling about the coronation. What impressed most who saw it was the fact that the Queen herself appeared to be quite overwhelmed by the sacramental side of it," he noted, writing to an American friend.

It was "a feeling of (one hardly knows how to describe it) -- awe -- pity -- pathos -- mystery. The pressing of that huge, heavy crown on that small, young head becomes a sort of symbol of the situation of humanity itself: humanity called by God to be his vice-regent and high priest on earth, yet feeling so inadequate."

Few could have imagined that the woman many now call "Elizabeth the Great" would reign for 70 years, striving to lead by example after the suffering of World War II and into an age in which humanity would be united by the Internet, terrorism, pandemics and other challenges.

Throughout her life, Queen Elizabeth II understood the symbolic importance of kneeling, according to former Durham Bishop N.T. Wright.

, , , , , ,

Where is heaven? Ancient believers have answers for that modern Sam Harris question

, , , , , ,
Where is heaven? Ancient believers have answers for that modern Sam Harris question

When cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin returned to earth in 1961, after the first manned spaceflight, Soviet leaders claimed he said: "I went up to space, but I didn't encounter God."

Venturing into similar territory, superstar atheist Sam Harris rocked cyberspace during a recent Triggernometry YouTube appearance in which he discussed Donald Trump, faith elements in "wokeness" and the flocks of Americans who insist on believing in heaven.

Political Twitter screamed when he said there was "a left-wing conspiracy to deny the presidency to Donald Trump. … Absolutely, but I think it was warranted."

But comedians Konstantin Kisin and Francis Foster pushed back, asking if Harris was justifying moral relativism. Perhaps today's truth wars, the Triggernometry team suggested, were linked to a famous G.K. Chesterton quip: "When men choose not to believe in God, they do not thereafter believe in nothing, they then become capable of believing in anything."

During the ensuing discussion, Harris offered another viral soundbite: "Where is heaven, exactly, given that we have multiple telescopes up there beaming back tens of billions of years' worth of information?" Yet millions of Americans still embrace the supernatural claims of an ancient faith, including that Jesus will return to "raise the living and the dead."

"You'd be surprised by the number of percent of sober, non-Bible-thumping people who would say 'yes' to that question," he said. "They might be Christian, they might be, listen, 'I love the Bible. It gives me a great moral framework. It gives my kids a great moral framework. This is the tradition I'm identified with. This is all super important to me' -- but that's kind of as far as it goes. Right? Like, I'm not going to make magical claims about flying saviors who are literally going to come down from … heaven."

While the Twitter masses raged, the French-Canadian iconographer and writer Jonathan Pageau recorded a video essay on his "The Symbolic World" channel about why materialists and religious believers keep debating the meaning of terms such as "heaven" and "earth."

, , , , , , ,

Some Anglican Communion fights are beginning to look like Black vs. White issues

, , , , , , ,
Some Anglican Communion fights are beginning to look like Black vs. White issues

There was nothing unusual about Nigerian Archbishop Henry Ndukuba leading the 2021 dedication rites for Holy Trinity Cathedral Church, which was packed with Nigerian Anglicans and a dozen or so bishops.

But this historic service was held in Houston and the cathedral is not part of the Diocese of Texas or the U.S. Episcopal Church. Some clergy at this Church of Nigeria North American Mission event were recognized as Anglicans by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Some were not.

This puzzle became more complicated recently during Lambeth 2022, which Nigeria boycotted, along with the churches of Uganda and Rwanda. Other Global South bishops, during Lambeth standoffs with Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby over the status of doctrines on marriage and sex, declined to receive Holy Communion with openly gay and lesbian bishops.

"There is a profound asymmetric quality to the Anglican Communion, where the voice of the bulk of its membership is either absent or muted," said the Rev. David Goodhew of St. Barnabas Church in Middlesborough, England. He is the author of a series of articles about African Anglicanism for Covenant, the weblog of The Living Church, an independent Anglican publication founded in 1878.

"If one adds up the number of bishops who didn't share Holy Communion at Lambeth … that is a very large number," he said. "I have been startled by the number of descriptions that said this Lambeth was a success. I don't know how one makes that claim when it would appear the bulk of the Anglican Communion's bishops couldn't come together to receive Communion. That looks like a disaster."

Bottom line: Global South Anglicans are experiencing a "volcano of growth" and remain "at loggerheads" with the shrinking churches of the United Kingdom, North America and other western nations. While most Global South bishops serve growing flocks -- roughly 75% of active worshipers in the 77-million-member Anglican Communion -- many western bishops lead what Goodhew called "micro-dioceses" with under 1,000 active members or "mini-dioceses" with fewer than 5,000.

The Church of Nigeria, meanwhile, claims 17 million members and the Center for Global Christianity at Gordon-Conwell Seminary, near Boston, estimates active participants at 22 million. The other churches skipping Lambeth 2022 were Uganda, with 10 million members, and Rwanda, with 1 million members.

The Church of England remains Anglicanism's power hub. It has 26 million members, but 2019 weekly attendance was about 679,000 -- before the COVID-19 crisis.