Co-Creating with the Millennials: Some First Steps

Yesterday, I was sitting at brunch with someone from church, who said, "I really like the way you've incorporated yourself into the church. So many young people just want so much from the church but won't give anything, they need to meet us half way."

The next words out of my mouth were not, "I am a single, straight white male, lifelong Episcopalian with a well-paying, if not particularly stable job. If I can't fit into this church, you should close your doors now."

This leads us to Crusty Old Dean's latest essay on the future of The Episcopal Church as my generation, the Millennials, eventually succeeds into leadership. Crusty Old Dean helpfully argues that this succession process should begin yesterday and be more cooperative than presently envisioned by the powers that be, so that TEC and other mainline denominations do not fail as miserably with the Millennials as they have with Generation X.

Reading essays about Millennials and Christianity always makes me feel inadequate. I feel, as a more or less intensely practicing Episcopalian of a certain age, that I should have brilliant insights about how to incorporate my generation into the church. I should feel constantly empowered by the Holy Spirit to win my generation for Christ. Or perhaps I have been reading too many eHarmony profiles (more on that later).

Unfortunately, I don't have any such brilliant insights, because I can't speak from my own experience. The way that Anglican Christianity and I are one is a type of the unity of the Godhead (in the least blasphemous and most inferior way possible). My faith and practice are inexplicable mysteries to me. I'm a cradle Episcopalian, who's never been off the figurative membership rolls of a parish since baptism, and whose longest period away from worshipping in an Episcopal church was ten happy weeks with an ELCA parish in suburban Houston (I didn't have a car). I've never been in the ordination process. I've never taken off a year to do domestic or foreign missionary activity, though I've taken a couple of weeks every once in a while. And I've been a member of three parishes of which neither parent was a member. I'm not bragging. I'm just pointing out that the number of people I know with background and experience like mine is smaller than the fingers on one hand.

Crusty Old Dean, in the essay I linked to and in other places, recounts being in meetings where he is the only generational representative in the room (in his case, X). And the others then have the politeness to ask him for his thoughts. I've had those moments, too. The realization I've had is to think about those of one's generation who are not here but might like to be, or even not know they want to be.

So now that I have professed my ignorance on the subject, let me now pontificate upon it. Crusty Old Dean proposes co-creation of a new Episcopal Church with Millennials. In other places, he thinks about creating a broader mainline body. I've seen what co-creation between Boomers and Millennials looks like. It is or was called the Occupy Movement.

Away from Wall Street, Occupy was a marriage of college-aged activists and Boomer/GenX-led activist groups. The latter groups often were closely associated with partisan politics, like MoveOn.org, or connected to partisan groups with little or slightly more influence in American electoral politics, such as the Democratic Socialists of America or the perpetual Presidential campaign of Ron Paul. In other cases, the groups were more local, grassroots organizations with limited partisan affiliation. Let's draw the analogy between the partisan/electoral groups and denominational structures or national ecumenical groups. Let's also draw the analogy between the local, non-partisan groups and parishes, individual ministries of parishes, and local parachurch/ecumenical organizations.

One Lesson from Occupy: Democratically-Joined Activities vs. Top-Down Institutional Efforts

So what happened with Occupy? Well, there was conflict. The most important conflict centered around Millennial concern that Occupy was being co-opted by the Boomer/GenX-led organizations. In one reading, Occupy was a brand. Occupiers were cautious about the brand being associated with one party or another. In another reading, Occupiers were concerned that their time and effort were being stolen by organizations who they could not influence.

This conflict was resolved cruise director style. You choose the activities in which you want to participate. The stuff more people want to do generally is more fun. Whatever MoveOn.org wanted to do would not be endorsed by Occupy but non-partisan political efforts by another organization could be announced in General Assembly meetings. Non-institutional efforts outside of Occupy could receive somewhat more formal endorsement from Occupy. For example, Bank Transfer Day is not an institution. Someone posts an idea on a calendar. If the idea goes viral, people do it. Bank Transfer Day could be sponsored by the NCUA or someone, but it's a clear, purposeful, and defined activity that doesn't attempt any kind of national institutional organization.

The lesson we can take from this conflict and its partial solution is that doing church in the future may look like a series of hastily planned, low-budget experiments. The future urban parson or lay reader may walk from park to park tweeting that they're sitting on a bench somewhere or in a coffee shop. Larger, in-person events especially may be very unpredictable. Even GenX seems not to understand the purpose of RSVPing sometimes.

The advantage we have as a church is access to space, knowledge, and a living tradition of prayer and ascesis. If we structure our experiments right, those who spend time with us will serve and be renewed.

At the moment, another Millennial and I are running a fairly random discussion group in the local pub one night a month. We're doing it mostly through a Facebook group. I don't have much hope for it, honestly. But if you asked me what I needed, I would say that I'd love access to the church bulletins of every parish within twenty miles (Presbyterians and Methodists, too). There's probably one to three people in every parish who'd be up for this, but I have of no way of knowing who they are, and I want it to be a soft sell. Second, I need access to my church on that night for Compline. Note that these ideas probably wouldn't cost much money but require an investment in trust and communication. I don't want to hear concerns about the content of our discussions or worries about competition with this or that. I just want to forum to bring 20-40 year old mainliners together to talk about the things that matter to us.

Occupy presents the church with other lessons, but I'm going to make the transition to another important subject:

What Do Millennials Want to Know About the Christian Life?

The problem with 21st century adulthood is that it doesn't have a manual, it has a Library of Babel filled with them. Between the Internet and the unprecedented democratization of the printing press in the digital era, there is no shortage of advice in the form of the written word. If you're a mainline Protestant, though, you're in a bit of a bind. Episcopalians take some fairly clear sides in the culture wars in General Convention, but relating what we say there to everyday life is complex.

Recently, B.P. Zahl (just to distinguish from her husband and many distinguished in-laws) and Gibson published a study on young adults' relationship with God . Their sample, which included me, represented a group of Millennials deeply engaged with the Christian faith. The conclusion (probably an overly strident reading): young adult Christians experienced God as far less loving and more judgmental than they had been taught in church. For many people my age, there is a disconnect between life and doctrine.

For reasons that should be obvious by the very mention of it, I've been reading a lot of eHarmony profiles. And because my level of religious engagement is out of the ordinary, the computer matching wizards of Pasadena have been matching me with women who want "a leader," "a man after God's own heart," "Godly head of a household," who is "interested in homeschooling," so they may live "pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen ;)" Some expressions recur over and over again to the point that I recognized them as scripts. Evangelical Christian publishing (and some Roman Catholic), preaching, and formation sets forth a coherent vision of "Biblical womanhood." I disagree with that vision, but I admire it for its coherence. No one is telling me how to be a godly Episcopal man in my personal and professional life, though I'll thank Derek for referring me to Martin Thornton as a start.

Some of this advice, of course, will be relevant to dating and mating. Surely, the third date is not "the sex date," but when and how a romantic relationship should become physical is a dubium . So is how to date someone who is not a Christian or from a much different Christian tradition. How do you articulate your faith within the marriage or in childrearing? Or perhaps we can even add, how do you know you're called to marriage at all?

But much of this advice will go into areas of vocation and work/life balance, a key Millennial concern in employment.

Ultimately, Millennials want to be told what to do and why they're doing it, but they also want to know what to do when they can't do what they're supposed to be doing or when circumstances spin beyond their control. Seriously engaging with popular culture may help. Mockingbird is doing some good things. I'd love to see something on April Kepner of Grey's Anatomy or Pastor Casey on the Mindy Project.

What Should Millennials Give the Church?

Although I made a little fun of his sentiment, I agree with my Boomer friend about the need for Millennials to give as much as they get in the course of the necessary leadership transition. To other Millennials, I'd give three pieces of advice.

1. If you don't like the place, trust your instincts and find somewhere else.

I've been very lucky with my last three parishes. I haven't needed to church shop. The church down the street (more or less) has been the one for me. But I've visited some parishes that would scare me off. Trust that instinct. As Crusty Old Dean points out, being a young person of faith can be tough, especially an Episcopalian. You often sense that other Christians as well as the secular people you work with think of you like the Church at Laodicea. The last thing you need is for your parish church to feel hostile or merely isolating.

2. Find mentors

Joining a new parish is very much like starting a new job. You need to know the parish's history, the state of its finances, learn about ministries that will suit or develop your gifts, and just make friends. Sometimes, your mentors will be your grandparents' age, but enjoy it. You have a lot to learn from them. They have a lot to learn from you.

3. Pledge

Most Millennials I know stick two bucks in the collection plate, the "loose plate." Loose plate is a useful revenue source for the church. The Canons require that some of it goes to some special purposes, but if you're regularly attending a parish, make a pledge. It doesn't have to be much. The average American Christian tithes every four to five years. If you're a college graduate and employed outside academia, that's $15 a week or so. But the impact on incorporation is huge. The people who count the offerings will see your name somewhere on the line connected with the money. They'll have a record that you regularly show up to church. And the compensation for this financially burdensome breach of privacy is that they will start treating you like a fellow member of Christ's Body and not like some weird alien to be feared, ignored, or appeased. Besides, at some point, you're going to have pay for this anyway. You better start getting used to the idea. Trust me. The more you like where you are, the more you will give. And the more good you will see your gifts doing.

De Iuventute in Ecclesia

Recently, my fellow parishioner, Hugo Schwyzer, provided a review of Youth Sunday at ILEOS.

This passage particularly struck me:

“She spoke of how she’d gone through our Seekers confirmation program (which I co-led from 2001 until this year) as an agnostic who flirted with atheism. As she put it, she got confirmed at the end of her frosh year in order to honor the eight-month process of Seekers, not out of any newfound certainty in her faith. Interestingly, she reported from the pulpit on Sunday that she has — at last — begun to experience a sudden openness to God. After years and years of living by the [ILEOS] creed of the “gospel of social justice”, the creed that suggests that “Jesus was a heckuva nice guy and an important advocate for change”, she’s begun to find a more evangelical faith. She found it through her school’s gospel choir, and in the rhythm and emotion of gospel, she’s opened herself up to the possibility that Jesus was and is more than a human role model.”

Hugo goes on to say that this was a daring thing to say at the pulpit of ILEOS. In retrospect, I guess it was. At the time, I was thinking: “This parish puts more resources into children and youth work than any parish I’ve ever seen, but there is clearly something deeply lacking with our catechesis.” Hugo is the nice stolid ILEOS Low Churchman, and I am the nice stolid ILEOS High Churchman, but Hugo knows the facts on the ground better than I.

But to be fair, this is a general problem. I saw it in my much more moderate parish back East. In my third confirmation class (don’t ask), Providence had thrown together a variety of upper middle class teenagers with one thing in common: they didn’t want to be there. It’s a common rite of passage in the Episcopal Church. Confirmation becomes a get out of church free card, unless there are special circumstances (clergy children). So, of course, you are going to have a few atheists. One of my classmates was quite open about it. I was horrified.

It wasn’t until about two years later when I was put in charge of preparing the parents of infants and young children for their children’s baptisms that I understood why it was difficult to instill solid Christian belief of some kind in Episcopal youth. It wasn’t MTV, materialism, or simple adolescent rebellion, because the upper middle class children of the Baby Boomers aren’t rebellious. Most of us buy into the idea that if we get into the right college, we’ll sign the same social contract that brought our parents prosperity and never worry again. Thus, we spend a tremendous amount of effort and anxiety on the process of getting into a good college. Past generations spent some of this time hoping for conversion experiences, looking for signs of election, agonizing over their salvation, considering religious vocations, or becoming involved in pietistic practices.

And it wasn’t just so much of our existential angst did not turn to the things of God. Looking at the new parents of our congregation, it was fairly clear that most of them wanted their children baptized for perfunctory reasons or else to give them a values system of some sort. I shocked these sorts deeply without even intending it. I’ll never forget one poor woman who was undoubtedly shocked when I suggested that Satan could be something more than a metaphor. The look she gave me is what I expect to receive at an accidental first contact with an alien species, “You’re not from this planet, are you? Have I even heard of your planet?” There were exceptions. I still remember one couple in particular who I think were quite happy that someone was taking baptism seriously. A couple of years later, I was sorting a batch of clothes at a local thrift store when I kept coming across fine designer labels. Those were appreciated, since they could be sold at a premium and the fashionably thrifty ladies of the neighborhood still would consider them a bargain. They were hand-me-downs but in good shape. A couple of stray nametags in the clothes revealed that I knew the donors quite well.

We very much follow the faith of our fathers and mothers. I trace my affinity with gay and lesbian Christians to my parents taking me to have dinner with one of our fellow parishioners and his partner back in the mid 1980s. I don’t remember much, but I do remember that the partner was the first person I knew to die of AIDS. Of course, it’s not foolproof, my mother will give me the accidental first contact look every once in a while for a variety of reasons. But this is the same mother who read me The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and hinted at the allegory. My father likes to think himself as a weaker brother, but I sometimes am amazed at some of the things his faith has led him to do (and my mother has supported him despite her complete vexation with the facere of the Church.). But if you see your parents not taking these things seriously, living hypocritically, clearly ridiculing deep faith, expressing constant doubts at the Creeds of the Church, constantly embracing the latest liberal program for doctrinal reform, or just going to church for some sort of social reason, you’re not likely to see anything worthwhile about the Christian faith or long for relationship with God.

Clergy and other important adults at church also can be a liability in this regard. I wonder seriously if we are not presently undermining the meaning of the Eucharist for many, not by our CWOB practices, but with some of the clergy’s constant and somewhat vague attacks on “substitutionary atonement,” by which they seem to cover almost every explication of the Cross as a means of Grace. We speak of the bread and wine made holy and use the ancient words of Institution but yet shy away from singing ever again in English, “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain and hath redeemed us to God, to God by his blood, to receive honor and riches and wisdom and strength and glory and blessing…” How does the Eucharist have meaning outside the saving work of the Cross? I’m not even talking about ILEOS’ stripped down baptismal liturgy, where I think we stumble at the threshold by not shocking the adults’ systems enough with the commitment they are undertaking.

I don’t know about some of these things. But I do know that the catechesis we give children is not just what we tell them in formal settings. Even in a less doctrinally innovative church than ILEOS, our best hope of raising youth to a mature faith is showing forth with our lives what we profess with our lips on Sunday mornings. I don’t need to tell this to the parents who read this blog. From what I hear of your parenting, you will be inspirations for my own. But I think it’s something some of you might need to consider as clergy or prominent adults in the congregation. How do the youth in the parish see you? How do they see their parents? Don’t always ask what you are doing for youth. Ask instead what the youth see you doing.