New life for denominationalism

Christian Century, March 15, 2000 by Nancy T. Ammerman

ON THE CUSP of the 21st century, a strange thing is happening. Congregations--not all, but a noticeable number--are choosing to highlight their denominational particularities. While for some this might not seem so strange, for much of the 20th century highlighting denominational differences has been considered by many to be somewhat suspect. Early in the century, H. Richard Niebuhr wrote, "Denominationalism thus represents the moral failure of Christianity.... Before the church can hope to overcome its fatal division it must learn to recognize and to acknowledge the secular character of its denominationalism." Despite whatever good sectarian revivals may do at renewing the church, he condemned divisions based on denomination because the denominations were laden with ethnic, racial and class-based divisions.

Perhaps out of repentance, and perhaps out of ecumenical idealism, many 20th-century Protestants were moved to join Niebuhr in portraying denominationalism as an evil to be overcome. Ironically, at the same time that formidable denominational bureaucracies were being constructed, the theological, ritual and social practices that sustain a distinct religious tradition were being eroded.

That erosion was coming both from within and from without. Not only were theologians and preachers often apologetic about their tradition's peculiarities, but larger cultural forces were making it difficult for those traditions to sustain themselves. Whether we point to "secularization" or "modernization" or merely mobility and rising levels of education, the cultural and social base on which the once-dominant denominations built their fiefdoms has all but disappeared--the lingering reality of racial division being the glaring exception. Isolated European ethnic enclaves and insulated enclaves of privilege, however, have seen their boundaries opened. And without those intact cultures, the assumption was that the denominational divisions would disappear as well.

The erosion of denominational culture was not, of course, always celebrated. Many express real regret at the world that has been lost. No one has described that old denominational world better than Garrison Keillor. Responding to last summer's concordat between Episcopal and Lutheran churches, he treated his radio audience to an extended ballad on Lutheran culture.

   I was raised in Iowa, went to Concordia,
   Swedish, I'm proud to say.
   Got a job at Lutheran Brotherhood,
   And I never was sick one day.

   We sit in the pew where we always sit,
   And we do not shout Amen.
   And if anyone yells or waves their
   hands,
   They're not invited back again.

   We've got chow mein noodles on tuna
   hotdish
   And Jello with cottage cheese,
   And chocolate bars and banana cream
   pie,
   No wonder we're on our knees.
   This is the church where we sing Amen
   At the end of every song.
   The coffee pot is always on
   Cause the meetings are three hours
   long.

   I'm a Lutheran, a Lutheran, it is my belief,
   I am a Lutheran guy.
   We may have merged with another church
   But I'm a Lutheran til I die.

Do Lake Wobegon Lutherans still exist? Or are they the nostalgic figment of a storyteller's imagination? Have denominational identities eroded beyond recognition? And if some congregations are choosing denominationalism, who and where are they?

To take a measure of just such questions, the Hartford Institute for Religion Research, with funding from the Lilly Endowment, sent a team of researchers into the field in 1997 and 1998. We conducted interviews in 549 congregations, did more extensive observations and interviews (including a survey of congregants) in 35 of them, and took note of related research in eight denominations. Those national groups range from the Episcopal Church and the United Church of Christ to Assemblies of God and Vineyard churches. But our local interviewing encompassed the entire range of religious bodies found at the seven sites where we interviewed (Seattle, Albuquerque, Chicago, Nashville, Hartford, and clusters of rural counties in central Missouri and central Alabama). Included are 91 different denominational and other religious groups, including 51 congregations that are nondenominational or interdenominational and another 22 that are part of more informal networks.

WE FOUND THAT taken-for-granted denominational culture does still exist. It is strongest in precisely the sorts of places one might expect--rural locations more than urban; southern and midwestern regions more than in the rest of the country; and among Catholics and very sectarian groups (such as Jehovah's Witnesses) more than in any sector of Protestantism. Among all the Protestant congregations in which we interviewed, 32 percent of those in the Northeast reported a strong denominational identity, while 70 percent of those in the South did. Eighty-four percent of the rural congregations were strongly denominational, while just under half (49 percent) of the urban ones were.

But more important than any of those contextual factors, a congregation's sense of identification with a particular denominational tradition is closely tied to how many of its members grew up in the tradition. Belatedly, individuals who themselves have "switched" are less likely to say that denomination is important to them. Which is the chicken and which the egg is hard to say. But congregations full of "switchers" are much less likely to report that denomination is an important part of the way they "do church" (49 percent versus 69 percent of congregations with few switchers).