Ryan Burge, a professor at Washington University's Danforth Center on Religion and Politics, examines American religious life through the lens of social science surveys and statistics. But his new book—crammed with charts and graphs—goes beyond the trend lines and takes a turn toward advocacy.
The Vanishing Church: How the Hollowing Out of Moderate Congregations is Hurting Democracy, Faith, and Us. (Brazos, Jan.) is not a come-to-Jesus altar call that a pastor might make for the sake of someone's soul. Rather, i's a call to join in saving civil society from toxic polarization by reviving churches that are "moderate, pragmatic, and unifying."
You write that moderate churches are places that are "welcoming doubters, inviting newcomers, and always questioning." But many people today pick their church by their politics and won't sit beside anyone who disagrees. Why is this happening?
There are a few reasons. Only angry views get retweeted. Moderate voices aren't amplified. I think we almost fear difference, and we fear political difference the most. But while people are strident online, in person, they're much more magnanimous, much kinder and warmer. I went to church with this guy named Bob. We didn't agree on anything politically. But I thought Bob was a great dude, because Bob loved his family, and loved his church, and served the community. Humanizing the other side is an unbelievably good thing. That's what churches used to do. It's hard to hate someone you take communion with every Sunday.
In addition to being an academic, you pastored American Baptist congregations for 18 years. Don't theological distinctions matter?
I don't go too far into theology. My wife's Catholic. I'm Protestant. I believe in soul liberty. It's not on me to tell you what to believe. It's on you to figure out your own theology, and I can help you with that. Obviously, you don't need me to pray to God for you. You don't need me to tell you what to believe, and you don't need to tell me if you can take communion or not.
You talk about "doubting believers" who can't get comfortable in a church where everyone is strident and certain in their views.
I think everyone should have a strain of doubt in their belief system, to question what they believe. I say this for two reasons. One, certain people are fundamentalist and cannot abide difference. And two, a survey done by Ligonier Ministries finds that even among evangelicals, if you ask them, "Is Jesus the only way to heaven?" a huge number say "No." So, the idea that there's this huge number of 100% certain people in America who would sign up for Christian nationalism is just demonstrably false. My job is to point out what are actually fringe beliefs, statistically speaking.
You write in your book, "Instead of churches being engines of social capital generation and catalysts for building trust and tolerance, the growing polarization of American religion has left us lonelier, angrier, sicker, and more divided (economically and politically) than ever." Yet you conclude by urging people to join a worship community. What difference could it make?
I am deeply concerned that we are heading down a path of tribalism, division, and strife that imperils the future of the American experiment. Religion is no panacea, but the American church can be part of the solution. Religion, at its very best, can tamp down feelings of distrust, disenchantment, and disconnection when you are sharing worship, a potluck, a service project, or the softball team with people who look different and think differently than you do. Moderate churches are a way to build a more diverse and vibrant religious landscape. That is what tens of millions of Americans really want.
