Part One
Cultural Dynamics of Nurturing Faith
Mark grew up in Peoria, Illinois, a blue-collar, middle-class city splashed with midwestern values in the bread basket of the United States, where folks were hospitable and most people—at least as it seemed to him as a child in the 1960s—went to church and believed in the same God he did. In his comfortable suburban setting, the neighbors on one side were Methodist; on the other side, Roman Catholic; and across the street, some brand of Baptist. At public school, he prayed and pledged allegiance “under God.” In the family living room, there were Bibles, Halley’s Bible Handbook, and a 1940s Warner Sallman’s mass-produced painting: “Christ at Heart’s Door.”1 It is possible at his tender age that he didn’t know very many who were not—or at least did not appear to be—related to some church or variety of Christianity. The world of Mark’s formative years was small and sheltered and happy and simple, and he is grateful for his narrow childhood socialization.2
For centuries, and across much of the Western world, many could have recounted roughly similar homogeneous stories of their childhoods. In fact, as late as 1900, over 80 percent of the world Christian population was Caucasian, and over 70 percent resided in Europe.3 But while the World Christian Encyclopedia assesses the percentage of Christians worldwide to have been 33 to 34 percent for the last several generations, and projects the same proportion in the coming half-century,4 the European-Caucasian majority is definitely not the case at the start of the twenty-first century. Nevertheless, it is possible that half of all the Christians who have ever lived are living now—perhaps two billion. This is a remarkable, unprecedented opportunity for nurturing faith. With a (self-reported) Christian population of over 250 million, there are more Christians in the United States than in any other country in the history of the world.5 But what can be said about the world condition in which these Anglican, Protestant, Orthodox, and Roman Catholic adherents are being educated in faith?
As is quite clear, this is not twentieth-century religious-leaning Peoria anymore, and instead broad socializing undercurrents dominate the twenty-first-century global village. “Enchanted world” is a phrase used by social philosopher Charles Taylor in A Secular Age to describe these conditions of culture that favored religious belief.6
Three macrofactors have a role to play in nurturing faith on the world Christian scene today:
First, the teaching of the church is related to the social condition of the people it serves. Certainly, the heuristic circumstances of a given culture and the experiences of Christians within it are bound to interact with the content of what is taught in faith communities—acting as a sort of countermeasure in dealing with hostile or dangerous or distracting or theologically charged life situations. For example, the apostle John had a vision behind the scenes of world history and into the supernatural realm, as recorded in the apocalyptic book of Revelation. The message of persistence in the face of long odds to those who were in the minority and experiencing unjust persecution was of great encouragement to those believers.
One can imagine that the most urgent and most culturally pressing teachings in the parts of Asia where the church today exists in a rather hostile and repressive environment may be markedly different from churches, say, in England where Christianity still claims a comfortable share of the historical voice from its Church of England heritage and is not subjected to harsh persecution or despotic governmental forces. In sum, the most salient themes of Christian teaching are likely to be influenced by the social circumstances of the people.
Second, the relationship of church and state affects Christian education. While it may seem obvious, the governmental authorities of a given country may have varying relational degrees ranging from congenial to totalitarian. Detrimental conditions for Christianity exist in some countries—for example, North African countries are overwhelmingly Islamic; in contrast, some countries have adopted religious postures that, at least on the surface, are decidedly convivial and virtually inseparable from their political philosophies—for example, several nations in southern Europe possess deep Roman Catholic ties.7
One of the debilitating consequences with unusually close associations between state and Christianity can be witnessed in some Scandinavian countries, where some 90 percent claim Lutheranism yet a minimal number actually practice the Christian faith. In any situation, the government plays a role in how faith communities exist, practice, and teach Christianity.
Third, when a society experiences rapid change, its teaching of faith is also likely to be adapting. The pace of Western cultural change is frenetic and driven largely by media—including movies, music, social media, and popular culture—and unlikely to reduce its velocity any time soon. With such change, society is confronted with an array of new, often avant-garde topics, and the teachings of the church must respond by assisting believers in the task of theological reflection upon this rapid change, rather than naively capitulating to cultural drift.
What are those social conditions in the current time that are prevalent and in need of explicit understanding from a faith perspective? Numerous points could be listed. In our Western culture, Christians need to continually and critically engage in cultural assessment, especially as Christians face ethical issues about economic and justice issues, medical and technological advances, political and media influences, and sexual and educational agendas. Societal change understandably affects the topics and even the means of Christian education.
Perhaps we lack proper historical perspective, but this first-third of the twenty-first century may be the most challenging time in the history of the Christian centuries to nurture faith. What rationale supports such a bold claim? Well, in the Western world, culture looks askance at old-time, faith-based metanarratives; and globally, the fight continues to be inflamed by fierce battles between Christianity and other worldviews. Such political oppression and cultural allurements are powerful and detrimental. But nurturing faith is the educational mission of the global church, its destiny and calling. The gates of hell will not prevail against it (Matt. 16:18) and increasing faith is what God intends for followers (2 Cor. 3:18; Gal. 4:19; 5:22–23; Col. 1:9–14).
Part | Theme |
1 | Cultural Dynamics for Nurturing Faith |
| Leaving the Faith (chapter 1) |
| Modernism/Postmodernism (chapter 2) |
| Religious Nominalism (chapter 3) |
| Keeping the Faith (chapter 4) |
2 | Criteria for Nurturing Faith |
3 | Colleagues in Nurturing Faith |
4 | Contexts for Nurturing Faith |
5 | Conversations in Nurturing Faith |
So, what holds part 1 together? These four chapters provide “the lay of the land” and name key contextual realities (for good and for ill) that must be taken into account when considering the task of nurturing faith. Part 1 chronicles various “cultural dynamics in nurturing faith”—contrasting the factors and tendencies of how and why Christians leave and keep their faith. Individual, cultural, educational, and religious factors play roles in each case. Some themes under consideration include the shift from premodern to modern to postmodern social imaginaries; the church’s interaction with increasingly hostile or indifferent cultures (pressure from the outside) plus the church’s own internal failings and struggles (pressure from the inside); and finally, we will turn to specifically Christian educational considerations, including the need to push beyond the paradigm of the school and to develop a more holistic anthropology/epistemology.
Specifically, chapter 1 explores the challenges faith communities confront in educating believers and seeks insight from other faith traditions to learn how better to nurture our own. Chapter 2 tells two stories—one of modernism/postmodernism and the other of faith. We will voice the message each contributes to the mission of God. Chapter 3 speaks of time-worn religious traditionalism and addresses the scourge of nominalism and nationalism and their place in the (mis)education of Christians. Finally, chapter 4 advances our main theses, propelled by practical theology and social science research, for fostering the life-sustaining educative experiences in the Christian way and for sustaining vital growth in faith.
CHAPTER ONE
Leaving the Faith: Eulogies of Disenchantment, Lethargy, and Irrelevance
O to grace how great a debtor, Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter, Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it, Seal it for Thy courts above.
—ROBERT ROBINSON
Why was it virtually impossible not to believe in God in, say 1500, in our Western society, while in 2000 many of us find this not only easy but even inescapable?
—CHARLES TAYLOR
We suppose this chapter could just as easily been called “Confessions of a Humbled Church.” In chapter 1 we somberly rehearse the church’s failure to nurture faith effectively and divest itself of counterproductive educational strategies. While we ought not to hide the church’s failures, we also need to take the words above of Charles Taylor (in the epigraph) seriously—for cultural forces have indeed conspired against even the possibility of transcendence. Therefore, here we explore the dismal statistics and mounting social and cultural obstacles that tell a narrative of decline within the Christian fold. While we face the growing embrace of other narratives beyond the Christian story, we confess a million ways the church has been either feckless or evil and failed to prioritize or execute faith formation. For this, on behalf of the church, we repent, seek forgiveness, and ask for wisdom to reverse what has so gravely injured Christians and non-Christians alike. But do not be dismayed: in these beginning pages, we concede there may be a good bit of hand-wringing and even shouting in the name of righteous indignation. Our strategy is a balancing act in being honest in our lament over what seems like Christian decline in the West while yet holding on to love, hope, and faith.
Introduction
Roughly half of those who grow up in Christian families (regardless of denomination) leave the faith, at least at some point in their lives.1 Up to 10 percent (more than thirty million) of all Americans are former Catholics.2 The same trend is well-documented in Europe, where belief in God has decreased in Britain, the Netherlands, Germany, and France.3 Many crestfallen parents and aggrieved faith communities are then left to wonder why attempts to pass along their faith have been ineffectual—a condition that would not have surprised Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, who thought Christian education was the main obstacle to Christian belief.4 So, spurred along with the goal of growing more successful in transmitting the Christian religion, the church must make more concerted efforts at better teaching practices.
This chapter is about the concern for loss in far too many who have called Christianity their home base—loss of faith and loss of communion with the community of faith. The upshot of this loss is manifest in disenchantment, lethargy, and irrelevance: disenchantment, in that a faith once embraced now tastes bitter; lethargic, in that a faith once vibrant now drifts to a listless and ineffectual shadow of itself; and irrelevant, in that a faith meant to invoke hope for the day slides to an extraneous façade.5 These eulogies signify that the ache driving this chapter is for the lamentable state of affairs in which Christians lose faith.6 But what are the reasons people lose faith, and what can be done to enhance teaching ministries in the church to diminish such loss?
John Westerhoff somewhat counterintuitively warns: “Teaching religion is not very important”; at best, it only produces “educated atheists.”7 Consider the unfortunate experience of Sergei Bulgakov. He was born into a family of Russian Orthodox priests and went to seminary to train for the same profession, and this is where he experie...