We want to be welcoming, but we only have so much space

Last night we went to something called "Pub Theology" at a local watering hole and about three dozen St. Luke's members talked about the connection between personal faith and social faith. Well, I think that was the prompt, and there was a John Wesley quote in there somewhere.

Our District Superintendent was present to lead things, and she was fine... in fact, like a different person compared to how I remember her when she was a co-pastor six or seven years ago. And our current senior pastor, who ended up being one of the youngest in the room, was there. He is unmarried and seems to basically devote his entire life to church stuff. 

What most people talked about was that we just need to be good people. That was the key. A few people wondered aloud about inviting people to such occasions as pub theology or just to a church service. If only people could "see us in action," so to speak. One person specifically said, "If each person here invited one other person to the next pub theology..."

I sometimes joke that my classes only have three rules: Know where you're supposed to be. Get there on time. Act right while you're there. It sounds like a joke, but actually the world would be a better place if everyone could just follow those three simple requirements. But that's for another post.

As usual, most of what I heard was that mainstream religion (as in Methodists) had a lot going for it in responding to our difficult times. What we have is a communication and marketing problem. No one is listening. 

Of course, St. Luke's itself is doing quite well... lots of outreach and innovative programs and a welcoming attitude. Most of us in our section of the long table did not really know each other's names, despite most of us being long-time members, so you would be justified in wondering just how welcoming we are. But a group like this tends to feature a lot of self-congratulations. And I know a handful of people a tiny bit better. Not the worst outcome.

I made an impromptu point that our tendency is to say that organized religion is not doing well, but our local church? Not too bad.

It's the same for public education. Schools across the country? In crisis. The school our kid attends? Not too bad. Maybe even amazing.

It was only after we got home that I thought about the repercussions of, just as an example, each of the nearly 40 in attendance bringing one additional person to the next monthly gathering. It would be chaos, of course. The bar had a separate room for larger parties, and we basically filled it. Doubling our numbers? Impossible in the space.

The bar only had, as far as I could tell, four people working. There was a female bartender who doubled as a server and a cook who also brought out food, and the harried guy who took all the orders... and (maybe) a cook frantically prepping all the orders. But maybe that first cook was it, so three working. Who knows?

Bottom line: if over 75 people showed up, there would be a system meltdown. 

And THAT led me to wonder what our hopes really should be about these sorts of "get outside the church and welcome people" efforts. Unless we would require pre-registration, which would exclude some people and therefore send the opposite message intended, maybe we should just be happy that the loyal three dozen showed to talk about church and community and (at least in our group) provide quick anecdotes about growing up Catholic or Presbyterian or Southern Baptist... with a couple "cradle" Methodists to add some flavor. 

The original idea behind Pub Theology, I was told by a minister, was to attract younger people with the promise of a beer or two and some casual talk. There might have been two unmarried 20-somethings in the group, and they were with parents. What actually happens is that the "usuals" -- mostly longtime members in their 60s, 70s and 80s, get together with people who have become their friends. Communities are tough to come by, after all. Attending a church for decades together is as good a "tie that binds" as any and better than most.

When we get to be over-60, the need for community doesn't diminish, it turns out. But hanging with the old-timers? Not all that enticing to the young adults the event planners once imagined.

In the end, what is needed is a lot more such gatherings, in sizes that can be handled by local watering holes, and that positively affect the zeitgeist. Just in smaller "bits."