Thunderbolts and Lightning
A couple of evenings ago, somebody I know quite well published a post on Facebook that caused perhaps the most entertaining argument I have seen in quite some time. The argument was happening in public, so I saw no shame in watching the drama unfold from my usual perch, high atop the fence I like to sit on.
Apparently the Church he attends had held an event specifically to attract young people – and a head count of the congregation provoked the facebook post. The numbers were pretty damning really – a third of the audience were under 60 years old, two thirds were over 60 years old, and only one person under 18 had turned up.
The argument was really a sideshow to the subject of the post – with somebody taking offence at the content of a comment, and spiralling into a full-on wasp chewing flame fest, full of the entirely disconnected subjects that people like to spout when challenged about anything at all on the internet, regardless of how old and sensible they are supposed to be.
The real question posed by the post was more interesting to me – what were they going to do about the falling numbers? How were they going to engage young people in their church?
It got me thinking – although not along the lines you might imagine.
I began to wonder why any fault was being prescribed to anybody at all. It's a common mistake made by people when they have chosen to involve themselves in an activity a significant number of other people are also involved in. It doesn't have to be religion – it can be anything – choosing a particular video game machine, liking a particular musician, reading this book rather than that book.
Of course we are talking about religion though – and after reading a number of articles by people involved in various churches about similar declines in congregation size around the world, something occurred to both me, and a friend I was discussing it with. Nobody was daring to suggest that people might not be attending because they don't believe in any of it. It struck me that those who believe are so assured in their belief, there is an almost arrogant presumption that everybody else must believe too – therefore the reason for the falling numbers in their congregation must be something they are doing wrong.
It's difficult for me to remain objective, because I have no religious faith or belief at all, but perhaps that lends a little more perspective sometimes. I have always presumed that anybody with sufficient education would naturally lack faith or belief in any god or gods. Of course the real world doesn't reflect that presumption – I know lots of intelligent people, and lots of them follow a religious faith. Here's the thing though – people tend to be very selective in choosing the elements of a faith to follow – invariably selecting the elements that are of advantage to them. Conversely, they quickly distort, or entirely drop their faith when circumstances suit – medical science comes to mind.
It all seems terribly “convenient” to me – the use of faith as a stick, as a plaster, and as a crutch. The willingness of people to use their faith as an explanation for questions with difficult answers seems like an escape. Some questions have no answers. Some situations leave us with nowhere to hide. Realising that – for me – has been a huge part of growing up.