When I arrived at The Rocky Mountain News (RIP) in the fall of 1984, one of the first things I did was take a long walk in downtown Denver — taking notes about the religious sanctuaries that were nearby.
Most of the urban churches were, as you would expect in a Western city, linked to Mainline Protestant denominations and there were several Roman Catholic parishes, as well.
All of the mainline churches were in decline, with shrinking and aging congregations housed inside large buildings dating back to the glory days of previous decades. The one exception was a United Methodist congregation led by an evangelical pastor who was reaching out to families, single adults and all kinds of people in nearby neighborhoods — Blacks, Latinos, Asians, etc.
Meanwhile, conservative churches were growing in the suburbs, with a mixture of nondenominational, Baptist, Pentecostal and alternative Presbyterian flocks leading the way.
My point is that there were several stories going on in downtown Denver at the same time. But it was already clear — four decades ago — that lots of those old, big churches would eventually be empty or up for sale. It was also obvious that some of them would seek income from other sources to help keep their doors open, renting space to other flocks or social ministries.
Major news organizations keep bumping into stories linked to these trends, in part because big newsrooms tend to be in central urban zones and, in my experience, quite a few journalists (religion-beat pro included) have liberal Protestant or Catholic backgrounds or remain active in those traditions. Thus, here at GetReligion, it’s common to see posts with headlines such as these: “More news about old churches being sold and flipped: Does it matter why this is happening?”, “Churches for sale: New York Times visits a sexy former Catholic sanctuary in Quebec” and “Wait just a minute: Fading Lutherans (ELCA) in Waco sold their lovely building to Anglicans?” Or how about this one? “Why is a church shrinking or closing? Reporters: Brace for complex and heated debates.”
This brings me to a new Associated Press report about this old topic: “Historic city churches find new life as neighborhood centers.” Once again, there are glimpses of the trends behind this news hook, but very little information examining the larger issues looming in the background.
Here is the overture and summary paragraph:
MINNEAPOLIS (AP) — The pews were rocking at Holy Trinity on a recent Sunday as worshipers from the Minnesota Swahili Christian Congregation sang and danced beneath the lofty, dark-wood-trimmed ceilings and lively stained-glass windows.
Established in the 1920s, the magnificent house of worship once hosted one of the largest Lutheran congregations in the country but has dwindled to just 200 regular Sunday worshippers today. To remain vibrant, the founding congregation has increasingly opened its historic doors to serve a variety of community needs, from the Swahili-language services to functioning as a makeshift emergency medical center during protests after the 2020 police killing of George Floyd.
“In the last two years, it’s become even clearer to me that the Spirit has been guiding us in places where we never imagined going on our own,” said Ingrid Rasmussen, Holy Trinity’s lead pastor.
Well, it sounds like the Minnesota Swahili Christian Congregation is quite vibrant.
It appears that this flock is made up of mainline Lutherans, but there are clearly trends that are causing that flock to grow while the host congregation ages and fades away. What are the facts on the ground there? Also, how many members does the new flock have?
Let’s keep reading. Here’s another large block of background material:
Across the U.S., historic urban churches built decades ago to accommodate hundreds or thousands of worshippers and bulging Sunday school classes have struggled with shrinking flocks and rising preservation costs. Many are finding new ways to use their buildings that let them keep those sacred places viable while serving the neighborhoods they’ve anchored for decades.
In Minneapolis, landmark churches have hosted everything from food pantries and Finnish language classes to tai-chi practices and group discussions on reparations. Elsewhere in the country, they’ve rented space for events or programs like preschools, bringing in much-needed revenue, and also made their buildings available for free to community group gatherings as diverse as nutrition clinics and arts workshops.
Historic religious buildings are not just civic and cultural landmarks but crucial social centers, with non-congregants making up an estimated 90% of the people they serve, according to Bob Jaeger, president of Partners for Sacred Places. The nonprofit helps religious institutions nationwide make plans and raise money to repurpose their spaces for a different era, and Jaeger sees plenty of room for more to be done in that area.
Is this trend affecting all kinds of flocks? Readers never find out.
Are there churches that are surviving or even thriving in urban areas? Apparently, that isn’t a relevant question in this story.
The story does mention a large Spanish-speaking Catholic parish that appears to have a large base of members on which to build. Otherwise, this story describes trends in mainline Protestant life that are, as I mentioned earlier, decades old at this point.
This story seems to be implying that the future, for mainline flocks, is social work and community activism — alone. There is no discussion here of plans for new missions or evangelistic efforts that, especially in denominations with Methodist roots, used to blend quite well with social-justice projects.
There’s that question again: Why are some churches growing while others are in decline? The assumption in this story is that everyone is in decline — period.
Here is one more case study from this AP piece. There are some haunting details here that really needed to be fleshed out, if the editors were open to asking questions about doctrine and church tradition:
Neighborhood Church in Atlanta’s leafy Candler Park neighborhood was born in the mid-2010s out of the merger of two United Methodist congregations. Proceeds from the sale of the larger church building went to finance a renovation of the smaller one, a structure from the 1930s, redesigned to minimize Christian imagery so it would better serve the diverse neighborhood, co-pastors Andy and Anjie Woodworth said.
Today it hosts not only the congregation but two voting precincts and, when the pandemic permits, the activities of more than a dozen groups that share the church’s inclusive values, from scouting troops to advocates for the rights of transgender people of color.
What, precisely, does it mean to say that United Methodist leaders elected to “minimize Christian imagery so [the surviving church] would better serve the diverse neighborhood”? What Christian content was, well, edited out of this sanctuary?
The bottom line, once again: There are several stories looming in the background, surrounding the trend at the heart of this feature — declining congregations seeking funds to remain open by forming partner projects with secular and religious groups in the community.
Is this the bottom line? That Mainline Protestant churches can survive with dollars from government projects and secular foundations, as opposed to families and new converts? If that is the case, what happens to the doctrines and traditions that built these sanctuaries in the first place?
Just asking. Again.
Meanwhile, there are stories out in the suburbs as well, where some churches are thriving while others are stagnant or in decline. There are problems in rural areas, as well.
But not all religious groups are in decline, even if it is accurate to note that some parts of America are growing more secular faster than others. What forms of church life are growing (think Pentecostal flocks, many of them interracial) and what forms are in rapid decline?
What is going on? Journalists who ask the hard questions will find themselves involved in some very heated and emotional debates. In other words — news.