Organizing Unorganized Religion

There is apparently now an organization for the one-fifth
or so of Americans who always check “none” on forms asking for their religious
preference. Folks in this self-described category are called “nones”
(pronounced the same as “nuns,” though something entirely different).

Nones as a whole don’t go to worship, except for maybe
Christmas, Easter, weddings, and funerals. That’s if they are Christian nones.
I don’t have experience with nones from other faiths, but I suspect they would
follow the same pattern, dropping by on their traditional high holy days while
ignoring anything more regular.

That is about as organized as they like their religion.
When I hear someone say they dislike organized religion I always invite them to
a North American Lutheran Church service, since it’s hardly organized at all.
It’s turned out to be a strange selling point.

Anyway, as every parish pastor knows, nones rarely hesitate
to claim the church for
their wedding
or whatnot. To get what they want they may even be willing to jump through a
few hoops: pre-Cana, baptismal instruction, a contribution or two. But
otherwise they are not inclined to bother with much. It is just all so, you
know, organized.

Turns out the nones won’t mind getting organized, after
all—a little, anyway. Nones are an untapped market on the anti-organized religion
scene and, sure enough, someone is marketing un-religion.

At least I think that is the premise behind
Sunday Assembly. The outfit was started by
a couple English comedians. Pippa Evans is a sketch comedian while Sanderson Jones
did and maybe still does what is characterized as “fringe” stand-up, although
among critics “edgy,” “offensive,” and “tasteless” are also tossed around. His
routine has included flashing the Garry Cross photograph of the then ten-year-old
Brook Shields posing nude, asking his audience if anyone wants to see a naked
little girl. Everyone does. There is an announcement at the beginning of the
routine that a possibly offensive photograph may appear, but reports say very
few leave on account of it.

Sunday Assembly has
been billed as a church for atheists.
They may get a little pushback from
the Unitarian/Universalist (UU) groups who appear just as eager to welcome unbelievers.
With the UU, “you can bring your whole self: your full identity, your
questioning mind, your expansive heart.”

I don’t want to start a doctrinal fight between the two,
but Sunday Assembly says more or less the same thing. The Sunday Assembly “has
no deity. We don’t do supernatural but we also won’t tell you you’re wrong
if you do.” That’s all part of the openness to diversity thing for which they
are noted.

The only outward difference I can really pin down is that
Sunday Assembly regularly features praise bands and the UU doesn’t. There may be something in the differing
generational demographic both are trying to reach. Sunday Assembly appears very
“with it” on their web site. The UU is, well, stodgy, stuffy and, maybe here’s
the heart of it, too organized. The UU has a page on youth ministry. Sunday
Assembly is youth.

The Sunday Assembly speaks, finally, to whom?

We are here for everyone who wants to:

• Live
  Better. We aim to provide inspiring, thought-provoking and practical ideas that
  help people to live the lives they want to lead and be the people they want to
  be 
• Help
  Often. Assemblies are communities of action building lives of purpose,
  encouraging us all to help anyone who needs it to support each other 
• Wonder
  More. Hearing talks, singing as one, listening to readings and even playing
  games helps us to connect with each other and the awesome world we live in.

As laudable as that may be, there is little here that
really distinguishes the Assembly from, say, the average ambitions of any
average go-getter denomination anywhere. Perhaps that is some of the problem
accounting for the decline of American Protestantism.

There should be distinctions, starting with Jesus and
moving on from there. Yet I see a fretful Protestant mainline church, trying to
live inoffensively in America. I don’t think it can be done, not anymore.

As for Sunday Assembly and groups like it, religious
language even without the supernatural patina always hints at religion. As soon
as one says “I am not religious,” a religion has been defined.

But once defined, well, let’s get it organized.

Russell E. Saltzman is a dean in the North American Lutheran Church, assistant pastor of St. Matthew’s Church in Riverside, Missouri, and an online homilist for the University of Mary Christian Leadership Center. His latest book, Speaking of the Dead, is being published this year by ALPB Books. His previous articles can be found here.

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