Two contemporary prophets (admittedly fallible) ask, “What’s ahead for the Church in our generation?” With an eye on trends of the day they offer some disconcerting possibilities.—ED.
“Preachin’ sure has changed durin’ the past 60 years,” lamented Rev. Doeful. Members of the Middletown Ministerial Association listened indulgently as the aged preacher continued to decry the waywardness of the modem ministry.
If we look askance at those who long for “the good ol’ days,” remember that religious rhetoric seems to be continually changing. How will we react to the rhetorical practices of our ministry by 1981?
Let those who can endure the rigors of the journey join the religious group at our home church on a Sunday morning in November, 1981. If we attend a religious group meeting it must be on Sunday morning; Sunday evening meetings were discontinued by all religious groups 15 years ago.
We enter the auditorium, which is flooded with soothing recorded music, and an affable usher greets and seats us. The director of group music, smiling good-naturedly, walks on stage and announces a song. We recognize the selection as one that will foster healthful inter-personal relationships and promote a creative interchange of ideas.
Dr. Dudley, the religious leader, appears with notebook in hand. For a moment we are starded; it seems that he has forgotten the amenities of clerical dress. No clerical collar? No suit or tie? Then we notice that the other male members of the group are also wearing well-tailored slacks and sports shirts.
Religious Rhetoric, 1981
The religious leader opens his notebook and announces that the topic for the discussion will be “Interplanetary Communication.” After terms are defined, rooms for the various age groups are designated. The group leaders we are told, are highly-competent people. They have prepared themselves by taking discussion course at Dynamic University.
With great pride Dr. Dudley announces that Miss Sweetly has received her diploma in Kindergarten-dynamics. She will now promote permissive interaction among the younger children.
The music leader lifts a rousing verse of “When We All Work Together.”
Then we join the people as they hurry toward their group rooms.
A sign over a doorway reads “Nursery Group I” and demands our attention. Miss Dullight, a member of our group, offers to show us about the nursery. In amazement we behold the babies feeding, sleeping, and playing without the aid of an adult attendant. The mothers have gone to join their groups in confidence that an electronic bed will detect and perform the needed functions for the little ones. The bed, with kinesthetic qualities of the mother’s body, feeds and burps the baby very efficiently. It even plays a recording of the mother singing and talking. But the most marvelous feature of the bed is the automatic diaper changer which, utilizing disposable diapers, performs as deftly as any mother.
We now wander in wonderment to our group room whereupon we are greeted by the group leader, Mr. Goodwill, who introduces us to the group.
As the discussion proceeds we notice that the contribution of one young man indicates that he is well informed. When this is pointed out by a group member, the young man confesses that he has been using sub-liminal sleep tapes in order to amass more data concerning the subject. In fact, he points out, the old-fashioned classroom lecture is being replaced by the sub-liminal tape. The tape is more efficient, the data is well organized, it takes less time than the lecture, and the cost is minimal. At this point we feel embarrassed because our education was acquired the hard way.
When the discussion period is over the groups again convene in the auditorium. Group leaders are seated on the stage. Dr. Dudley then collects a tabulation of the data presented and the conclusions reached in the several groups. We watch in amazement as this material is fed into an electronic computer which Dr. Dudley affectionately calls “The Religious Prophet.” The computer indicates that in regard to the available data, and the conclusions reached, Beta Group has reasoned more cogently and is the winner. As a reward the winning group is presented with free tickets for a space flight around the earth.
Dr. Dudley reminds us that the electronic cafeteria in the church serves delicious foods and that the profits are used by the religious group. After we are dismissed, Dr. Dudley invites us to lunch and soon we are delighted listeners as he describes religious work in 1981.
Religious training has changed. Instead of receiving instruction in homiletics, the young clerics of the theological seminaries now become experts of group dynamics, cybernetics, and of electronics. The pulpit pounder belongs to history.
As the conversation progresses the good religious leader points to the importance of religious calls. By now we are not surprised to learn that his calls are made from his climatically-controlled office via visa-phone. Through this medium he can visit more families each day. To establish rapport, he confides, background music corresponding to the socio-economic status of the family is played during visits.
When he is away, Dr. Dudley explains, the religious group member may receive desired guidance by recorded message via the visa-phone. The member may also take advantage of inspirational symposiums and group discussions beamed from the religious satellites to his own life-like, three-dimensional, television receiver.
The competitive techniques which were used by religious groups of past years have been superseded by attitudes and methods of co-operation. It is much better to stress similarities than differences among religious groups, observes Dr. Dudley. In fact, the Catholics and Protestants learned that it was far better to launch a satellite together than to orbit them separately and shoot them down. They now employ inter-faith commercials.
One inter-faith advertisement begins with a zoom-in on a husband and wife engaged in a heated argument. The announcer booms, “What do religious leaders say?” The scene shifts. The husband and wife are seated in the office of a religious leader. Leaning forward and reeking sincerity and authority, the religious leader says, “Religion will relieve anxieties and will not upset your marriage.
Another inter-faith co-operative shows a shapely young lady emerging from the cockpit of a space plane. She removes her space helmet revealing silken, wavy, blond hair.
“Oh Miss!” says the announcer, “Would you step over here a moment?”
“Of course!” she exclaims smiling dramatically.
“Isn’t flying a space plane a risky business for a young lady?”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” says the charming creature.
“My!” the announcer bubbles with admiration, “I can see you’re a girl who thinks for herself. Tell me. Why did you land here this Sunday morning?” “Because,” she says, “I always attend a religious group on Sunday morning. I enjoy the healthful inter-personal relationships one can find there.”
After a fadeout the announcer, the very epitome of sincerity, pleads, “Friends wherever you are this morning, don’t forget to attend the religious group of your choice.”
Another religious commercial dollys in on a burly fellow tinkering with his new auto—the Orbital Eight.
“Say!” says the announcer, “That’s quite a car! Yours?”
“Yep!” replies the car-tinkerer.
“Is it true that the Orbital eight is not as maneuverable as the Atomic Six?” “Yep,” says he, “but I like power and speed. The Orbital gives me that.”
“Oh,” the announcer oozes with admiration, “you are the kind of man who knows what he wants.”
“Yep!” he replies patting the Orbital affectionately.
“Since this is Sunday, what religious group do you plan to attend?” “Protestant,” replies the man.
“Would you recommend that everyone attend a Protestant group?”
“Heavens no! Let them go where they want to. It really doesn’t make much difference,” observes the man.
After a fade-out the announcer gushes, “Friends, attend the religious group of your choice today.”
We all have a healthy chuckle; then Dr. Dudley points out that only three religious bodies exist in 1981. We hasten to state that 257 recognized religious groups existed in 1961. Dr. Dudley tells us that the smaller religious groups, along with those that refused federal aid, were forced to disband for lack of money. This happened about 10 years ago.
The mention of money leads us to a query concerning the relationship of the salaries of religious leaders in 1981 to the salaries of old-time pastors. We learn that the salary of a religious leader is now determined by the average of the salaries of the members of his group. Most religious leaders now receive approximately $20,000 per year.
I think that I shall remain in 1981. What did you say, Brother Doeful?
BERYL F. MCCLERREN
Lecturer
Department of Speech
Southern Illinois University
Carbondale, Illinois
Kurkburo, 1985
A thin, slightly-stooped man wearing a threadbare greyish herringbone topcoat and evidently apprehensive, seemed to cast his eye about in a final search for a friendly face or that of an old acquaintance in the closing seconds before the elevator shot down from its 60-story height in response to his call.
He had just scanned the long bulletin board on the corridor wall for “Personnel and Placement” in the towering National Kurkburo Building in upper Manhattan and found to his relief that it was on the 55th floor, which would give him a longer ride and consequently a few seconds more in which to spruce up his courage and compose once again his lines now half erased by anxiety.
As the door slid open with the slightest click three men, well dressed, with confident bearing, entered. Something amusing had just been said, for the laughter they brought with them from the street continued as they walked quickly into the elevator with its lone passenger. One, the tallest, broke the gaiety:
“Ed, could you be in my office tomorrow afternoon at two? We’re trying to wind up this Common Curriculum outline of Beliefs and Aims. The heads of the Indian and Japanese committees are coming in. It’s due at the printer’s in every country just one month from now and we’re late already.”
“Sure, Jim. Will it take long? I’m leaving for Capetown on the five o’clock rocket for the African church session Wednesday. We’re trying to iron out the final differences on the World Creed, you know.”
“Shouldn’t take very long. I just want your reactions to a few phrases on the Trinity and the Reformation. I’ll send the copy down to you this afternoon.
Your presence tomorrow would help sew it up and this is the last time I can give it before the printer’s deadline.”
“Be there at two and be sure to send me the copy, Jim.”
This speaker got off with the third man at floor 40. The tall one, Jim, left the elevator at 52.
Quickly the ominous-lighted figures indicated 55. Joseph Brewster walked out as slowly as its automatic door would allow. To his relief Personnel and Placement was far down the hall. He entered and gave his name.
Like a good Manhattan receptionist the girl inside was cordial and efficient. “Mr. Brewster? Oh, yes. Mr. Carson is expecting you. He’s busy right now but should be through in a few moments. Won’t you sit down, please?”
Absentmindedly he picked up and thumbed through some back copies of United Church Togetherness Magazine. A hum of two men’s voices penetrated the substantial door marked A. Floyd Carson, Director, Personnel and Placement. A few seconds later two men emerged, one much the same age as Brewster himself, perhaps just past 60, carrying a topcoat. The other man was around 40, evidently Mr. Carson.
This was confirmed when he said to the secretary, “Miss Chapman, would you prepare for Mr. Bradford a transfer approval from the Midwest area, diocese six to Northeastern two. Send the usual copies to personnel in each diocese and area, with covering letters. Mr. Butterfield will give you the rest of the information you need.”
He turned to the other man whose face was a mixture of humiliation, gratitude, and relief. “I hope you like your new assignment, Mr. Butterfield, and let me know how you get along. Come in, anytime.”
Turning to Brewster, he said: “Mr. Brewster? Come right on in.”
Brewster sat uneasily in the chair across a large desk from Carson. Around the walls shelves full of books announced a fairly complete array of works on Personnel, Management, Tests, Measures, and Human Relations. Immediately facing him on the desk itself was the current issue of Aptitude Tests for Mature People.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Brewster. I have a committee meeting in a half hour and I’ll have to be briefer than I should. I’ll get to the point. You want to transfer from Connecticut to Arizona for reasons of your wife’s health. Right?”
“Yes, she’s had an asthmatic condition a long time and lately …”
Carson interrupted, “Yes, we have the statements here in the file from your family physician and also from the specialist. You’ve got a clear case all right, from that angle. Also, there are parish openings right now in Arizona. But, and let me assure you that what I’m going to say now is in no way personal. This is committee feeling. What I say now represents the broadest possible interest of the United Church. I am responsible not only to individual pastors like yourself, but in a greater sense I must consider the health and interests of the whole body of Christ—the entire church, its bishops, its laity, its wholeness.”
Brewster felt his mouth and throat growing chalk dry. He wondered if his face was as pale as it felt.
Carson continued: “This office was established not only as a central file and reference on all United Church clergy and lay persons employed in the 51 states but to give assistance to the busy bishops when faced with such transfer requests as your own. Actually, even when a bishop asks for a man in another diocese this office must give approval, though it seldom withholds it. However, a petition from a pastor is another thing.”
He recited this as if he had done it many times, Brewster thought.
“Here is your record, from the date of your ordination, until now. You were originally Congregational, weren’t your Or was it Baptist, or Disciple?”
“Congregational,” Brewster replied weakly.
“Oh, yes, I remember. And fortunately, too. For in averaging up and arriving at your Co-operation Quotient, or CQ, we give five extra points for men of your background. They find it harder to fit in than men from Methodist or Episcopal traditions. It’s only fair. The old so-called “free church” men are given this advantage. Otherwise your CQ would be 59 instead of 64. And as you know from your United Church Manual of Procedures and Practices it requires a CQ of at least 70 for automatic transfer approval without appeal.”
“Yes, I know. That’s why I’m here today.”
“Six points is close, yet a bit distant for a bishop out in Arizona to swallow without a good covering reason. Let’s look at your record and see how we can help. There is a chance, but cold print is cold indeed to a regional or diocesian personnel committee.”
Brewster closed his eyes while Carson scanned the papers.
“Mr. Brewster, I’ll start with just a few minor reasons for these 36 negative points. You don’t use the national weekly church bulletin service. You have never mailed in the required weekly bulletins to your bishop. Innocent enough, but it may cover up weak sermon titles or poor programming. Your attendance at diocesan meetings is spotty; your wife’s record here is almost nil.”
“But for many years she worked to send the children to college. She couldn’t go.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Brewster. These are minor points but they do add up. More serious, you have had three critical letters in the United Church Togetherness Magazine within the past 15 years, all questioning national Synod decisions. Also, five such letters, never published by our editors, are here in this file.” Brewster remembered those letters bitterly. His wife had suggested he write them and then burn them. Instead, he dropped them in the mailbox.
“But I was younger then.”
“No, you wouldn’t write them now. Many men say this. But we have found that personality traits find new ways of expression, ways more subtle but just as damaging to unity and harmony.”
Carson lowered his voice, but the tone of authority remained. “Perhaps vour most serious handicap, Mr. Brewster, is the continued failure of your last two churches to accept or measure up to the suggested annual Upstep Stewardship Quota. When, as a matter of record, both churches sent far more than their required quotas to mission causes of their own choosing, indicated that they and you knew better than the whole Church about mission needs. Last year, for example, your church sent only 5,000 through Church channels and over 20,000 to your own pet projects.”
“But they were all projects already approved by the Church.”
“That’s not the point, Mr. Brewster.
I think you know the policy—all mission funds through channels. For your own sake I do wish you had realized this years ago. A bishop finds this breach of policy most difficult to understand in a man seeking placement in his diocese.”
Brewster remained silent. Carson continued: “I’ve never been a pastor. I came straight to an area personnel staff right after my doctorate. But I cannot understand men who go off on tangents in such an important matter as this. We can cover up some things, but a black and white record like this of dollars and cents is hard to explain or gloss over.”
Brewster moistened his lips and forced his throat to obedience. “But our work with the young people, my service on community projects, our growth in a section that’s largely non-Protestant. Don’t these count?”
“Indeed they do. And considerable. All the positive indices are in your 64 per cent CQ. But it’s the 34 we’re dealing with now, Mr. Brewster. And your age. How old are you? Oh, yes, 63 I see here. Same age as my father.”
Carson seemed strangely silent for a moment. Then resumed.
“I’ll be frank, Mr. Brewster. We’ve somehow got to promise the Arizona people that the things back of these 34 points won’t happen again. If we could obtain a simple statement from you, in writing, that you hope and plan to take full part, complete participation, in diocesan, area, and Church program then our committee could affect this transfer. Without it … Well, I can’t promise.” Brewster continued silent, lost in thought. Carson went on: “What the Arizona bishop will do is something else. He needs men, so my guess is he’ll take you.”
Brewster still said nothing. His mind went back to his ordination in a Vermont village church 38 years before and the words of his conference minister, “Follow the light …” He had tried.
He remembered their happy first years in their first parsonage—just he and Anna, then Dawn, then Bob, then Louis, then Elaine. Nine years they had remained, with parish resources, church attendance, and respect and love between pastor and people increasing each year. These were the happy years. This village, this white church, the bell pealing its clear invitation each Sabbath. None of the larger churches or communities had really been home to them since.
“Mr. Brewster, is something wrong? Do you feel ill?”
Brewster shook his head to clear out the memories. “No, I was just thinking.”
“I tell you what … I am sure this can go through, but I simply must be at a committee meeting downstairs in three minutes. Could you wait in the building, say, in the library, and return at four?”
“I guess I could.”
“And while I think of it, one suggestion. Don’t try direct contact. Work through channels. It’s best for all concerned. You obtained the last two churches on your own. This, too, is a trait bishops find hard to forget. But I must run. See you at four?”
Brewster nodded woodenly.
GRAHAM R. HODGES
Pastor
Emmanuel Congregational Church
Watertown, New York
