My Dying Church

AT CHURCH YESTERDAY, we had nine people in the building, including the pianist-organist, the minister, and the "liturgist", who sits sideways on stage and helps the minister with the routine stuff. There were six of us in the congregation. We didn't even reach double digits, which is our first goal nowadays. I'm sixty nine, and was the second youngest person in the building. the wife of the keyboard man is about sixty. We all sit in the same place every Sunday, which I suspect most people do in most churches. Sitting nearest to me are four people over the age of ninety. Soon, all too soon, our congregation will be halved by the inexorable attritition of life. A group of three teen aged boys evidently has quit coming for good. They used to ring the bell before the service; now, I do it. Too bad. Our loss. And, maybe, theirs too. The minister gave another good, reasonably short sermon, mixing together scripture bits and pieces with personal anecdotes. At the end of it he apologized for having failed to pray for rain, and promised to so so on his way home. I would have been happy to do it right there on the spot. None of us is perfect, but if we trust Jesus, we are forgiven. I would respectfully add mention of the importance of forgiving yourself. He reminded us that our church is only four years short of reaching its two hundreth birthday, having been founded in 1828 just donw the road. The current building was built in 1890, and is a true treasure of antiques architecture and building materials. Its nineteenth century brick, wood, and stained glass loveliness helps draw me to it on Sunday mornings. A quaint, lovely chapel in the midle of the woods, the middle of nowhere. He, the minister, mentioned that church membership is declining all over the United States, and has declined drastically in Europe, where religion seems to be almost extinct. A hundred years ago our little Presbyterian church had a congregation of about one hundred; only twenty five years ago thirty or forty people would show up most Sundays. Reverend Bruce says he doesn't know whether our church will live to see its two hundreth birthday, but that he hopes that it does. He seemed to imply that its chances, our chances, would be better if the members conributed more to it, "more", presumably, meaning money. I beg to differ; what our church needs is not so much money, but people. The money will come with the people. I don't put much cash into the collection plate; I live on Social Security, after all, and have several cats to feed. And, actually, as much as I Like this church and the few people who go there, I cannot consider myself an actual "member", since I am definitely not a "Christian". I don't meet the requirements. I can honestly say that I personally don't have the faintest idea whether "my" church will exist four years from now, sadly. Bruce indicated that he hopes the Christian religion continues to exist in the world, notwithstanding its currently stagnant and shrinking numbers. Im not so sure I agree with that. In fact, I know I don't. Cultural evolution is as fundamental to human existence as physical evolution, and that means change. People invented religion, religion did not invent people. Organized religion has definitely served a purpose in human historical evolution, but will there come a time when it no longer has a purpose, having completed it? To me, the answer to that question seems obvious, Yes, there will. And in fact, it seems to me that this process is beginning now, and is actually well underway, the process of religion evolving out of existence as human civilization has no further need of it. Still, I tend to hope that my little church lives a little while longer.