Little-known benefits of going to church

Most folks could tell you what the well-known benefits are, or are supposed to be. Salvation would be pretty high on the list – not that most Christians think that they are saved by attending church. No, most everyone would say that we are saved through Christ alone, no matter what the denomination or the cut of their theological jib. But regular fellowship with believers strengthens and upholds and increases our faith, and is a very great benefit to our lives as redeemed and saved people.

Cynical people think that church membership bestows some sort of career or financial benefit, by putting people in touch with others who are able to advance them. It’s networking, with a halo. I think this might happen once in a while, but the heyday of that sort of thing seems long past. Nowadays you might be more in danger of putting your job at risk by revealing that you attend church regularly, seeming to be an oddball or perhaps the type of person who tries to convert colleagues on lunch break.

Many churches tout themselves as cures for whatever ails you in the loneliness department. This seems to me a half-truth at best. Yes, if you join a church and take advantage of their programs you will be able to fill quite a few empty spots on your social calendar. Depending on the church and your own taste for getting out of the house, you might be able to get together with groups of other people two, three, or more times per week. These are groups that will not turn you down, so if you want to join the choir, join a Bible study or prayer group, join some sort of committee, take care of children one or more times per week, go on bus trips, and eat potluck suppers, you will have plenty of opportunities to do that sort of thing. Making friends, though, is another matter. That really depends on how good you are at making friends, and whether or not “friend chemistry” happens. I’ve known many people who have been actively involved in their churches for years, but haven’t made friends so much as long-term acquaintances. So I would say that churches definitely offer opportunities for being with people, which is no small thing. But friendship is by no means a certainty.

Now, here are a few benefits you don’t hear about so often:

The opportunity to sing with others in public. Human beings have sung together in public, often and regularly, for as long as we can remember. Not just in church, or during religious rituals, although those are a huge part of the history of public singing. We have work songs, drinking songs, camping songs, patriotic songs. All meant to be sung in groups. Until just the last generation or so, families and friends often sang together for their evening entertainment. I don’t think it’s good for people to suddenly give up something so powerful and mood-altering. Corporate singing (especially if you can do it loudly) makes people feel good -- real good.

Chaste and semi-chaste courtship opportunities. Folks have lots of opportunities to look for romantic partners today – the workplace, school, bars, classified ads, matchmaking ventures online and off-line. The problem is that, except for the workplace, these venues do not allow people even the pretense of wanting to get to know the other person in a safe, friendly way before jumping right to the sexual chase. I put even schools in the category of forcing potential lovers into a too-early sexualized relationship, because schools today are drenched in hormonal intensity. The clothing, the slang, the cultural references – it’s a supercharged atmosphere. This puts lots of shy or socially awkward people at a huge and uncomfortable disadvantage.

Churches are, of course, only semi-chaste, as anyone who has ever had anything to do with a youth group will recognize. But most of them do offer opportunities for people to meet and do things together in a much less sexualized atmosphere, and sometimes romantic sparks are kindled in these circumstances. So, shy people who do not have any opportunities to make romantic connections at work MAY have a chance if they are part of a large, active church. MAY HAVE – romance is no more a given than guaranteed friendship, but at least it’s a possibility.

Special holidays. Everyone, religious or not, celebrates some kind of Christmas (or Hanukah, or Eid) holiday, even if it’s cast as a simple winter vacation, and all religious observance has been stripped away. But only churchgoers get to celebrate Trinity Sunday, Pentecost, Rally Day, the last day of Vacation Bible School, Choir Appreciation Sunday, the first Sunday in Ordinary Time, Women’s Circle Annual Luncheon, Ascension Sunday, and St. Blaise’s Day. Not every churchgoer celebrates every one, but all churchgoers get a much bigger choice of special days and rituals to mark the passing of the years and to provide reasons for reflection, celebration, and special food than non-churchgoers. We like to make fun of these special days, but I’ll bet every one of them has a place in the heart of someone somewhere, and adds a little extra zest to life. Holidays are good, especially the odd ones. Frankly, I’m always looking for more of them.

There are probably quite a few more little-known benefits of going to church.

Photo courtesy Flickeruser Hamed Saber

Joys and concerns, part two

Old South Church is only a few blocks away. Neil drops Leslie and me off in front of the church, and drives down the street to find a coffee shop where he can wait for us. Old South is a Congregational church affiliated with the United Church of Christ. Although I was confirmed in a Congregational Church, this is another one of the denominations about which I know very little, and I know I will need to look this up later.

The church bulletin, though, is quite informative. Old South Church was founded in 1768, and was the home to the first legislature of the newly formed State of Vermont in 1768. The original building must have been destroyed at some point, because the building in which we are now meeting was erected in 1798. This building is the “oldest church on its original site in continuous use as a house of worship in Vermont,” according to the bulletin.

It’s a lovely edifice, with white walls and a blue ceiling, nice old woodwork, and unusual and very beautiful stained glass windows. What makes them unusual is that the stained glass is built into shutter-like panels, so that they can be opened, as they are on this morning. Behind the stained glass windows are clear glass panes. So we have both the clear glass windows letting in the light of God, and the lovely stained glass turning our hearts to heaven – a sweet combination of the two main theories about church windows!

There is a central pulpit, and an interesting old pipe organ behind it. I wonder if it actually works, it looks so old. The church can comfortably seat about 200 people, and there are probably a little over 100 in attendance. They have a great bulletin -- very clear, informative, and easy to follow.

The pastor, Rev. Amanda Lape-Freeberg, walks around and speaks to people before the service. She greets Leslie and me, and thanks us for coming. When the service begins, with a welcome and announcements, I am surprised to see a man walking around the sanctuary handing everyone who has something to say a cordless microphone to speak into – the sanctuary isn’t very large, and this doesn’t seem to be a particularly high-tech service –why the mike? Later I learned that the services are recorded for shut-ins, and everyone who talks speaks into the microphone so that the shut-ins won’t miss anything. I came to think of this (the desire to capture everyone’s comments) as one of the truly representative aspects of this church, as will become more apparent later.

The Introit is done as a round – the congregation is divided into two groups for singing “Be Still and Know That I Am God.” It goes off amazingly well, considering that we seem to be your average group of not particularly gifted singers.

The service continues with prayers, a hymn, the confession, moment of silence, and assurance of forgiveness, the Gloria Patri, and special music (a vocalist accompanied by a pianist). Then the pastor calls the children up for the children’s sermon, which they call, in the bulletin, Simply Speaking.

There are seven or eight children, and they sit in the first pew with their backs to the congregation. Rev. Lape-Freeberg asks them to imagine how God might have created the world. She uses three props – a lamp, a water pistol, and a CD player – to illustrate things coming into being. She says “Let there be light,” and someone plugs in the lamp. She says, “Let there be water,” and a confederate sitting in the pew directly behind the children squirts them with the water pistol (amazingly, this does not cause any screaming, just some giggling). She says “Let there be music,” and someone turns on the CD player.

It goes off very well – the pastor is natural and enthusiastic, no one is frightened by the water pistol (which seems to me like the most obvious place for this to fall apart), and the children are attentive and interested. The whole thing takes about five minutes.

Children’s sermons are popular with many churchgoers, but not often with pastors. They are difficult to do well. You have to keep them short, so they must be very well planned. If you get a group of kids who all want to talk, they can go on endlessly (and unintelligibly).

But the more common problem is that children freeze in front of all those staring eyes, and refuse to respond to any of the pastor’s increasingly desperate questions – “So, can anyone think of something God gives us? Anything? Anything at all? . . . . How about food? . . . . How about parents? . . . . . Do you think God gives us friends? . . . . Can you think of anything God has given you? I’ll give you a hint . . . . . . .”

To add to the pastor’s discomfort, children’s sermons are the prop comedy of homiletics. Many adults in the congregation seem to expect the equivalent of Kids Say the Darndest Things, and eagerly look forward to amusing or heartwarming bloopers.

So, someone giving a children’s sermon has to speak and manipulate objects, while simultaneously interacting with a group of children in front of a group of adults. Plus the whole performance has to convey some sort of actual gospel message. It’s no wonder that some pastors dread them.

The sermon is titled “God the Creator.” Rev. Lape-Freeberg lets us know that she will be referring to God using masculine words and pronouns, and apologizes if that offends anyone. Her point is that most of us believe that God is neither male nor female, but we have to use language to speak about God, and sometimes it is just very awkward to do so without using gendered pronouns, and gendered terms such as “Father.”

I know plenty of good Christians are angry and/or dismissive of attempts to deal with the issue of gendered language in any way whatsoever. Some of them, of course, do believe that God is male, so any attempts to conceal His maleness through language seem to be outright efforts to emasculate Him. He is our Father, they argue, so what’s the deal with gender-neutral language?
Some people think that God is not a sexual being in any sense we can imagine, and therefore neither male nor female, but still would prefer we just stick to the traditional language, because it is customary, beautiful, and inspired. I thought the pastor’s response was reasonable – I’m sorry if my language offends you, but it’s too hard to use any other language in the context of the first chapter of Genesis. Of course, there are people who would be offended by her apology – one of the sorry lessons of pastoring is that you’re almost always bound to offend someone whenever you open your mouth.

The point of the sermon is that we should have a sense of wonder when contemplating God’s power of being able to call the world into being from nothingness.

During the offering there is a musical production – “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” performed by three men (clarinet, saxophone, vocalist) and the Director of Music on the piano. They have what jazz musicians call a train wreck near the beginning of their number, so they simply stop and begin again.

I admire their willingness to perform in front of friends and neighbors, and I truly admire and enjoy the music. You know, we are incredibly fortunate in regard to music. If we lived in any other era except for the recent present, the opportunity to hear a wide variety of great music performed by great musicians would be something quite rare – even for the wealthy and powerful. But now, because we happen to live in this amazing age, we can hear the greatest and most accomplished musicians in any genre whenever we want, wherever we happen to be, just by popping a CD into a player, or turning on a computer or MP3 player. This is a staggering thing.

However, what we can’t hear, most of the time, is ordinary people making music. To me this seems like a bit of a loss. I like hearing amateur musicians. I like it when they perform well, and I sympathize and still enjoy it when they don’t do so well. In this particular case, these men stumbled during the first few bars, recovered with grace and dignity, and played and sang for us – a gift from them to us.

The service is obviously winding down – the only part left before the benediction and final hymn, according to the bulletin, is the Joys and Concerns, which is in many churches a quick listing of good or bad events occurring to the congregation during the week. At Old South, though, as I soon realized, Joys and Concerns are in some ways the heart of the service.
The man with the microphone comes out again, so that everyone can be clearly heard and recorded. People share for at least fifteen minutes, and more than one person speaks with tears – tears of both joy and sorrow. The kinds of things they mention are the stuff of ordinary life – children going away or coming home, sickness and recovery, jobs lost or found, people going on mission trips, etc. It somehow doesn’t strike me as soppy, in spite of the occasional tears – people are just talking about their lives, and they are setting before the congregation their hopes and needs. This would be a hard thing to accomplish in a large church, but it’s one of the strengths of a small church.

The pastor asks Leslie and me where we are from when we shake hands going out the door. This church is accustomed to the occasional summer tourist.

Photo courtesy Flickr user bobw235