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To Zion goes I
There are some places in this world that never seem to change. The church I went to when I was growing up seems to be one of them. I went with my mother to the Christmas eve service and from there got recruited into the choir (I was in it all through high school and on an occasional basis ever since) for today.
Do note, it's almost 10 years since I graduated from high school, which is to say since I've been a regular member of the choir. Nonetheless, it seemed as though nothing had changed. There was still a rehearsal and performance folder with my name on it; "my" choir robe was still on a hanger with my name on it. The church itself was very little different--tree set up in the same corner, same holiday banners on the walls (same ones that have been hanging on the walls every year of my life!). Same minister as when I left (though she just started my last year of high school, when I was on the search committee that brought her in). Mostly the same people--at least generally the same families--in the pews. All the same people in the choir, just one of them used to be the director and another of them used not to be. Even the changes sort of reaffirm the sameness of the church: the main one being new stained-glass windows in one of the lounges and stairwells. These windows were all donated in memory of church-members who have died (i.e. change, but not growth).
So what to make of this? It's rather nice for me, in its way. It's nice to feel like you're coming home to a place, it's nice to have a sense of familiarity. But I doubt it's good for the church itself. I have to wonder how long they can hang on--because that's what they seem to be doing, hanging on. It can survive in the short term, but long-term survival has to involve change and growth, of one sort or another--renewal at the very least, and I don't see that happening. It's partially an issue of location--this is a rural church in a small-town area. The area isn't growing--population levels are either shrinking or just barely staying the same. A church like this relies heavily on its continuity. It relies on each new generation taking its place and doing the work that needs to be done, but that doesn't happen, and it's not wholly the church's fault. A lot of my generation, those just before us, and those coming after, are getting out of the area. Very true of my own high school class, particularly with the best and brightest. We went to college and we moved on from there and we didn't look back. The region can live with this, because there are enough people staying and enough new people coming in, but the church can't.
Why, you may wonder, am I putting so much thought into this? Beats me. Maybe I feel a certain responsibility shirked. My own father grew up in the church. He worked to rebuild it when it burnt down, he was a trustee and deacon, he (and our whole family, by extension) saw to the maintainence of the church, doing unpaid work to keep the shrubs trimmed, or bulletin boards updated, or whatever things needed to be done. He gave the talents he had to the church. And I won't be. I won't be because of geography: I don't live there and don't intend to. And I won't because of belief: as much as I like this church and its people, as much as I can see something valuable in a church community, there are just too many reasons why the idea of God--and the Christian conception of he/she/it--just don't ring true to me. And yet there's enough invested there, and still enough ties to it, that I give what I can to it: a bit of space in my blog. Zion U.C.C. in Fireside, Ohio, it's all I can offer you.