This is the first of two posts on the meaning of "connectional" in the life of the church.
The Collapse of Vertical Connectionalism.
Connectionalism
is a word that we Presbyterians use to describe how we are all, well,
connected. I have heard it all my
life. I think at some point church
leaders were trying to discourage the scourge of “creeping congregationalism”
by extolling the manifold benefits of being in such a well-organized
denomination.
Unfortunately,
that connectedness has nearly always been understood in an exclusively vertical way. That is, we are connected up and down: members to churches
to presbyteries to synods to the General Assembly. It was yet another expression of the now defunct but
strangely persistent corporate model of the church. Local churches were kind of like retail
outlets of a national brand. The
actual “selling” mostly went on locally; much of the mission giving traveled
upward, the authority, coordination, regulation, leadership, and identity was
transmitted downward. The tone of
mission was set at the top, where the resources are published, to flow down to
the other mission agencies. The
corporate flow-chart would have had the little congregations at the bottom,
with lines going up to the presbytery indicating to whom they “report;” but no
lines connecting them to each other.
In
this model very little attention was given to any kind of horizontal connectedness.
Maybe this tendency goes back to where we had individual Christians,
sitting in linear pews and all facing the professional Leader/priest “up” front
rather than each other. This vertical
connectionalism always weakened any horizontal connections between people or
churches. I remember what a trauma
it was in some congregations even to introduce something as benign as passing
the peace. Acknowledging, even
(gasp!) physically touching another
person – andy horizontal connectionality – was too dangerous. It was much safer for Presbyterians to
be connected vertically through that one guy up front, with whom everyone individually
shook hands on the way out, than to be related directly to each other.
Indeed,
building on this neurotic fear of connecting horizontally, congregations became
like retail franchises, thinking of themselves in competition with each other.
For congregations even to talk directly to each other, let alone share
practices, leadership, and assistance, was a rarity. If one church had a problem with a neighboring church, the
complaint would go up to the presbytery, functioning as the corporate district
manager, not directly to the neighboring church. (We still act this way. As a Stated Clerk I occasionally receive calls from people
complaining about their Pastor or the sessionof their church. My first question is always, “Did you
talk to them about it?” And the
answer most of the time is “No”.)
After
a while, I grew tired of listening to talk of how great our “connectionalism”
was, when all it meant was sending money up the corporate ladder, or arguing
over the content of the Book of Order,
or disputes over the various pointless pronunciamentos of the General Assembly
on social and political issues.
Meanwhile, the idea that I should understand connectionalism as having a
direct relationship with the Presbyterian congregation in the next town
remained incomprehensible. We would
see some of those people at the presbytery meeting, or on presbytery
committees. But in real life they
were our adversaries in a dog-fight over market-share.
Small
churches might occasionally get together, pool their scant resources, and share
some programs out of necessity.
But to suggest that large churches might help smaller churches did not
make any more sense than that a big, Walmart should help one of the struggling
downtown mom-and-pop stores. (I
worked for Barnes and Noble in the 1980’s when they were systematically
ordering the closure of small stores, even profitable ones like mine, because
of a new strategy, directed from the top, to have only big-box stores.) Better to write off and close the
smaller, or drive them out of business, so the successful one could pick up
even more customers. Something
about economies of scale.
In
the church there was this veneer of mutual support and encouragement, over a
reality of “sheep-stealing” and larger, successful, multi-programmatic churches
picking off the dissatisfied or disgruntled members of smaller or troubled
ones. Frankly, in many communities
it was easier, safer, and more fruitful to make connections with churches of other denominations, than with fellow
Presbyterians.
What
we end up with is an ecclesiastical arrangement that mirrors the gross
inequalities in the larger economy.
The resources are locked up in a few large, wealthy churches, while
everyone else is struggling, cutting back, going to part-time ministry, yoking,
merging, etc., and sometimes eventually closing. When it is suggested that some horizontal sharing happen,
the retort is to ask why the obviously “successful” churches should waste their
money by dumping it into “failed” churches. They suggest we close
the unsuccessful, unprofitable churches and give their members to the successful ones? Makes perfect business sense.
This
arrangement is breaking down now, thank God. The vertical understanding of connectionalism doesn’t really
hold so well anymore, as indicated by the difficulty presbyteries have collecting the per capita assessment, and by the reduction in giving by
churches to undesignated General Mission.
But if the verticality is eroding, it has yet to be replaced by a
creative horizontal understanding of the church. This means that we are losing connections with each other
altogether. Connectionalism is
collapsing into a destructive reflection of the independent-individualism
pervasive in our culture. In
others words, it’s increasingly every congregation for itself. Nothing could be further from the gospel than this.
The second post will explore what a horizonal connectionality will look like in the church.
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