Ryan Burge

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These stark numbers are headline worthy: Death of the Episcopal Church is approaching

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These stark numbers are headline worthy: Death of the Episcopal Church is approaching

Last November, I wrote a post for Religion in Public with the title, “The Data is Clear — Episcopalians are in Trouble.” In it, I used survey data to paint a portrait of a denomination that was on the brink of collapse.

One of the most troubling things about the future of the Episcopal Church is that the average member is incredibly old. The median age of an Episcopalian in 2019 was sixty-nine years old. With life expectancy around 80, we can easily expect at least a third of the current membership of the denomination to be gone in the next fifteen or twenty years. That’s problematic when membership has already been plummeting for decades.

But, I came across some data in the last few weeks that I just had to look at in more depth.

Before I get into the graphs I have to give some serious kudos to the data team that works for the denomination. I have looked at the websites of all kinds of Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian and Catholic traditions over the last few years. The Episcopalians blow them all out of the water in terms of accessibility and ease of use.

Don’t believe me? Well, they have an interactive dashboard of all their churches in the United States. You can sort based on a map, church size, or amount of offering. It’s incredible and can be accessed at this link.

Let’s get down to it, though. How many people actually attend an Episcopal church on an average Sunday? I grabbed a PDF of their membership reports from here and did some quick analysis of the national trends.

In 2009, 725,000 people attended an Episcopal church on an average weekend. According to their own data, the Episcopal Church has about 1.8 million baptized members. (The denomination’s membership peaked at 3.4 million in the 1960s.) Thus, about 40% of current members attend on a regular basis. That’s been declining steadily over the last decade. A typical year sees attendance dip by 25,000-35,000 people. That represents a 2-3% year-over-year decline.

By 2019, the weekly attendance was 547,000. In percentage terms, the Episcopalians have seen their attendance drop by a quarter in just the last decade.

But, that doesn’t tell the whole story about the future of the Episcopalians.


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Nashville 2021 revisited: For Southern Baptists, sermons are part of how their work gets done

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Nashville 2021 revisited: For Southern Baptists, sermons are part of how their work gets done

Whenever the Southern Baptist Convention gathers in times of trials and turmoil, one thing is certain -- someone will preach a sermon that makes a difference.

That's how Southern Baptists do what they do. These sermons may not produce as many headlines as SBC elections or fiery debates about hot-button social issues. But the sermons matter.

The big sermon during the 2021 convention in Nashville came at a logical moment -- when SBC President J.D. Greear gave his farewell address, just before tense voting to elect his successor.

In this "defining moment" address, the leader of the Summit Church in Raleigh-Durham, N.C., offered a stinging quote about an elephant that has camped in the SBC fellowship hall.

"We have to decide," Greear said, "if we want our convention primarily to be a political voting bloc or if we want it to be a Great Commission people. … Whenever the church gets in bed with politics, the church gets pregnant, and the offspring does not look like our Father in heaven."

America is important, he stressed. But America is not the whole picture for believers striving to build churches around the world. "God has not called us primarily to save America politically. He has called us to make the Gospel known to all," said Greear.

Southern Baptists can agree that "no compromise should be tolerated" on crucial social issues, he said. And no one wants to stop defending the inerrant truth of the Bible.


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New podcast: Is SBC President Ed Litton 'woke'? What is a 'conservative' stance on CRT?

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New podcast: Is SBC President Ed Litton 'woke'? What is a 'conservative' stance on CRT?

It certainly was an interesting way to start a podcast (click here to tune that in) about press coverage of the 2021 national meeting of the Southern Baptist Convention.

Here’s the gist of what “Crossroads” host Todd Wilken wanted to know: If journalists were going to write that the Rev. Mike Stone — who lost his bid to become SBC president — was “right-wing” and “ultraconservative,” then why didn’t they pin “left-wing” and “ultraliberal” labels on Bishop-elect Megan Rohrer, the first trans/queer/gender fluid bishop in the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America?

Think about it this way: Stone and the new Conservative Baptist Network — many flew pirate flags — set out to attack the already conservative (theologically speaking) leadership of the Southern Baptist Convention, saying that it was not conservative ENOUGH on several issues. In other words, the goal was to move the SBC further right and away from recent pronouncements by the convention.

Meanwhile, Bishop-elect Rohrer is an open advocate of the CURRENT teachings of the ELCA. In the context of this denomination and its doctrines, Rohrer is part of the ruling class.

Now, is Rohrer “ultraliberal” in the context of American culture? How about liberal mainline Protestantism? How about other Lutheran bodies? Was Stone “ultraconservative” in the context of today’s SBC?

You can see the struggle here. Are journalists supposed to label religious leaders in the context of the wider culture or of their own flocks? I have argued that this depends: I go with the “flock” framing when discussing news events that are taking place inside a given “flock.”

As I argued the other day (#SBC21: Press wrestles with Twitter-niche labels as Southern Baptists choose a new leader), most of the religion-beat pros who gathered in Nashville tried to be very cautious when describing the various groups under the conservative SBC umbrella. The exception was the New York Times, which offered a kind of acid-flashback return to the SBC civil wars of the early 1980s.

The key was the labeling in this early headline — “Southern Baptists Narrowly Head Off Conservative Takeover” — and then this overture:


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Thinking with Ryan Burge: Concerning young Latter-day Saints, third parties and life post-Trump

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Thinking with Ryan Burge: Concerning young Latter-day Saints, third parties and life post-Trump

There are times, when you are reading Ryan Burge on Twitter (which journalists should, of course, be doing) and you see signs that he has read some religion-news related item somewhere that has caused him to do that thing that he does — sift through lots of poll numbers looking for a new angle.

What we have here is a pair of tweets linked to a Christian Sagers think piece at The Deseret News that I had missed. The headline: “Are Latter-day Saint voters turning blue?”

That’s blue as in learning toward the Democratic Party, not feeling sad or depressed. That would be a huge news story hinting at other possible changes among centrists on moral and cultural issues.

Burge send me this comment containing what he thinks is the key question about this possible news twist.

The big question is: have younger LDS really abandoned the Republican Party? I don't think that we will ever know for sure until Trump is off the ballot completely.

So where to begin? Here is the overture in Sager’s piece, noting that a recent:

… Cook Political Report concludes that all four of Utah’s congressional districts are among the most Democratic-trending in the country. Latter-day Saint voters in Arizona doubled their Democratic turnout from 2016.

Meanwhile, a Democratic activist group with whom I spoke recently is optimistic about converting Latter-day Saint women, traditionally Republican, who it believes to be rejecting the GOP in greater percentages than other religious demographics.

That candidate Donald Trump fared so poorly among members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 2016 was met with astonishment in national media coverage and a flurry of conjectures that Latter-day Saints were up for grabs.

And yet, the political status of the Latter-day Saint voting bloc doesn’t fit into a tidy narrative. Yes, there are signs that some Latter-day Saints are reconsidering the modern GOP, but at the same time there are suggestions that Latter-day Saints remain reliably Republican.

Sure enough, there are other complications that need to be considered when looking at conservatives in this Donald Trump-warped political age.


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Thinking about evangelicals and COVID-19 vaccines: Wait! The numbers show WHAT?!?!

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Thinking about evangelicals and COVID-19 vaccines: Wait! The numbers show WHAT?!?!

The last 14 months have given the world a series of public health challenges that it has never had to grapple with before.

Will people willingly disrupt their lives in order to contain the spread of a potentially lethal virus? Can drug manufacturers develop and test a vaccine in a very short period of time that is effective against COVID-19? Will those same pharmaceutical companies be able to ramp up manufacturing capabilities quickly enough to satisfy the demand for those vaccines?

In terms of vaccine creation and distribution, there’s no doubt that it’s been an unqualified success. Every estimate indicates that the United States will be awash in vaccines by May. However, the question that is looming on the very near horizon is the most important and difficult to answer: will the United States be able to vaccinate enough of the population to get to a state of herd immunity and finally put an end to this year long nightmare?

It’s not the hard sciences that are under the microscope, it’s the social sciences. To reach herd immunity, most experts believe that a country needs to get at least 75% of the population fully vaccinated as a minimum threshold. Will that even be possible? Are societal factors like religion actually making the goal of herd immunity even more difficult?

The organization Data for Progress has been putting a poll into the field since the very beginning of the pandemic in March of 2020 as a way to get a sense of what percentage of the public is engaging in risky behaviors and how they feel the government is handling the crisis. Since January they have begun to ask respondents questions about their receptiveness to the vaccine. What these results indicate is that there are some reasons for hope, but there is also ample evidence that getting shots into arms may prove to be a lot more difficult in the very near future.

The survey asked respondents if they had received at least one dose of the COVID-19 vaccine. As can be quickly inferred, those shots were in short supply in January. Just about 6% of the entire sample indicated that they had gotten the vaccine at that point. However, things improved rapidly from there and the share of Americans who had been inoculated essentially doubled every month from January through early April, when 44% of the population had gotten a dose of the vaccine.

However, when the sample is broken down into the three of the largest religious groups: White evangelicals, White Catholics and the religiously unaffiliated, some disparities begin to emerge.


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'Nothing in particular' is the growing American religion niche few are studying

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'Nothing in particular' is the growing American religion niche few are studying

While working on the 1985 book "Habits of the Heart," the late sociologist Robert N. Bellah met "Sheila," who described her faith in words that researchers have quoted ever since.

"I can't remember the last time I went to church," she said. "My faith has carried me a long way. It's Sheilaism. Just my own little voice." The goal was to "love yourself and be gentle with yourself. … I think God would want us to take care of each other."

A decade later, during the so-called "New Age" era, researchers described a similar faith approach with this mantra -- "spiritual but not religious."

Then in the 21st Century's first decade, the Pew Research Center began charting a surge of religiously unaffiliated Americans, describing this cohort in a 2012 report with this newsy label -- "nones."

Do the math. "Nones" were 10% of America's population in 1996, 15% in 2006, 20% in 2014 and 26% in 2019. This stunning trend linked many stories that I have covered for decades, since this past week marked my 33rd anniversary writing this national "On Religion" column.

Obviously, these evolving labels described a growing phenomenon in public and private life, said political scientist Ryan Burge of Eastern Illinois University, author of the new book, "The Nones: Where They Came From, Who They Are, and Where They Are Going."

But hidden under that "nones" umbrella are divisions that deserve attention. For example, the 2018 Cooperative Congressional Election Study found that 5.7% of the American population is atheist, 5.7% agnostic and 19.9% "nothing in particular."

"When you say 'nones' and all you think about is atheists and agnostics, then you're not seeing the big picture," said Burge, who is a contributor at the GetReligion.org website I have led since 2004. "Atheists have a community. Atheists have a belief system. They are highly active when it comes to politics and public institutions.

"But these 'nothing in particular' Americans don't have any of that. They're struggling. They're disconnected from American life in so many ways."


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This just in! Millions of folks are sort of religious, a key to church membership decline

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This just in! Millions of folks are sort of religious, a key to church membership decline

When it came to poll numbers about religion and American life, the late George Gallup, Jr., wasn’t all that interested in many of the most obvious questions.

As he told me in several telephone interviews, starting in the 1980s: The religion numbers just don’t add up. You could see the same sentiments in some of his public addresses.

Gallup — who died in 2011 — wasn’t impressed by the high numbers of Americans who told pollsters that they believe in God, attend worship services on a regular basis and say that faith is “very important” in their lives. That didn’t seem to fit with national patterns of divorce and family breakdown. He kept trying to find ways to ask questions that focused on the role of religious faith in daily life.

When push came to shove, Gallup was convinced that about 20% of Americans were seriously practicing some form of religious faith. The number might be lower than that.

Thus, that recent blitz of news about church membership trends. As the Washington Post headline stated: “Church membership in the U.S. has fallen below the majority for the first time in nearly a century.” Here’s some of the overture:

The proportion of Americans who consider themselves members of a church, synagogue or mosque has dropped below 50 percent, according to a poll from Gallup. … It is the first time that has happened since Gallup first asked the question in 1937, when church membership was 73 percent. …

In 2020, 47 percent of Americans said they belonged to a church, synagogue or mosque. The polling firm also found that the number of people who said religion was very important to them has fallen to 48 percent, a new low point in the polling since 2000.

Click here for the Gallup report on these findings, old and new. Here is another summary from 2019. And here is some additional background from the new Gallup release:

Gallup asks Americans a battery of questions on their religious attitudes and practices twice each year. The following analysis of declines in church membership relies on three-year aggregates from 1998-2000 (when church membership averaged 69%), 2008-2010 (62%), and 2018-2020 (49%). …

The decline in church membership is primarily a function of the increasing number of Americans who express no religious preference.


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This is a religion question: How many kinds of 'nones' are there and what do they believe?

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This is a religion question: How many kinds of 'nones' are there and what do they believe?

THE QUESTION:

How do the three main categories differ among America’s rising non-religious “nones”?

THE RELIGION GUY’S ANSWER:

Political scientist Ryan Burge of Eastern Illinois University (a contributor here at GetReligion) has lately emerged as the most prolific analyst of the religion factor in U.S. politics, The Religion Guy contends. He’s now out with a book examining the biggest trend of our times within U.S. religion: “The Nones: Where Thy Came From, Who They Are, and Where They Are Going.”

“Nones” refers to Americans who say they have “none” when pollsters ask about their religious affiliation or religious identity. Since the turn of the century they’ve grown rapidly and make up around a fourth of the U.S. adult population, so this book is highly recommended for anyone interested in contemporary American religion.

Burge is an interesting figure. On the one hand, he’s a hard-nosed, objective observer of poll-driven facts, while on the other a religious practitioner as a long-serving, part-time pastor of a American Baptist congregation. His local flock typifies our era’s second major trend, the unprecedented membership decline in aging white “mainline” Protestant denominations that in former times dominated the national culture, as distinguished from conservative “evangelical” Protestantism.

The most revelatory material in this data-rich survey of all things “none” is the distinctions among the three subcategories of non-religious people carefully marked out by Pew Research Center surveys. Atheists are those who are certain God does not exist, and the same for all supernatural aspects. Agnostics say we do not or cannot know such things. By far the largest segment of nones, however, choose Pew’s third option of “nothing in particular” (NIP).

Burge thinks the NIPs “might be the most consequential religious group in the United States, and no one is talking about them the way they talk about atheists or agnostics.” NIPs are one-fifth of the population and “the fastest-growing religious group in the United States.” On point after point, they are notably different from both atheists and agnostics. Lumping all the non-religious together as the same “glosses over vast differences in the lifestyles, occupations and political worldviews.”


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Yo, Nashville Tennessean: What does 'people of faith' mean in a political argument?

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Yo, Nashville Tennessean: What does 'people of faith' mean in a political argument?

When I arrived at the Rocky Mountain News (RIP) long ago — think early ‘80s — I quickly learned that the city-desk team had an informal way of checking the Colorado pulse on religious issues.

Basically, they were interviewing clergy at the churches in downtown Denver. That was pretty much it. They would also call the Denver Catholic archdiocese (rather progressive at that time) and the “local seminary,” as in the already “woke” Iliff School of Theology, nationally known as an edgy United Methodist campus. It appeared no one knew about the larger Denver Seminary (evangelical) only a few blocks from Iliff.

What kind of churches were downtown? Almost all of them were mainline Protestant congregations and very few of them were showing any sign of life, in terms of attendance and growth. But they were nearby and most were progressive, so that was that. Why talk to folks at the region’s growing megachurches?

Hang in there with me. I am working toward a recent Nashville Tennessean article that ran with this headline: “Hundreds of people of faith call on Tennessee's Republican congressional delegation to repudiate lies about election fraud.” The key question: Define “people of faith”?

Back to Denver, for one more comment. Early on, I attended a press conference linked to the Colorado Council of Churches. Here is how I described what happened in a post back in 2013:

The key was that the organization … was claiming that it spoke for the vast majority of the state's churches. The problem was that, by the 1980s, the conversion of the Colorado Front Range into an evangelical hotbed (including evangelicals in many oldline Protestant bodies) was well on its way. Also, a more doctrinally conservative Catholic archbishop had arrived in town, one anxious to advocate for Catholic teachings on public issues on both sides of the political spectrum. …

Still, it was an important press conference that helped document one side of a religious debate in the state.

Near the end of the session, I asked what I thought was a logical question: Other than the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Denver, did any of the CCC leaders present represent a church that had more members at that moment than during any of the previous two or three decades?

Well, hey, I thought it was a fair question.


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