Fire in the Belly

Fire-Side Chat

“Like any other map, mine had both a center and an edge. At the center stood the church, where good women baked communion bread, ironed altar linens, and polished silver that had been in the church family for generations... some never picked up a prayer book on Sunday morning because they knew the communion service by heart...These people at the center kept the map from blowing away.”

Barbara Brown Taylor (Leaving Church)

        I don't know whether you attend church or not, but I do—every Sunday unless I am sick or out-of-town. Are you one of the people at the center who serve on church boards, who volunteers to teach Sunday school or watch children in the nursery? I make church banners and sometimes wash the dirty table cloths after a dinner. Our church is small and needs every member doing what they can to keep it going.

        Barbara Brown Taylor describes the people on the fringes as those who step outside the church long enough to hear the howling of the world, where there are no protective roofs, stained glass windows, or well-lit bathrooms. At the edge you find folks who are either seeking an encounter with the living God, or recovering from one, or more often, recovering from the battering of the patriarchy itself. People on the fringes sometimes have fire in the belly, and can keep the church from becoming stale and repetitive. Brother David Steindl-Rast calls such churches “old volcanoes;” saying they once had a lot of fire and ash spewing out of their center, and molten lava running down the sides, but are now quiescent, and solidified into stone. Churches often become rigid and zombie-like, walking through the same old steps, so predictable that members could do it in their sleep. They’ve lost their spirit.

        I love my church because it helps me to work on my own consciousness. It feels like an ethical community even though it is full of flawed people like me. And it strives to hold aloft the poor and the outcast whom Jesus sought to serve. It offers hope. But I understand, too, why people leave the church. They can no longer say the dusty old creeds nor claim fealty to the tenets that require willing suspension of disbelief. Such people deeply want something real to believe in; not what they see as superstition. They also want a network rather than a hierarchy in church polity.

        The center and the fringes are not that far apart. Many of the people who have walked away from organized religion are finding God in the activities that mean most to them—in nature, in volunteerism, in serving their fellow humans. Most of them still love the music of the church and participate in humanitarian efforts to make our world a better place. They would come back if they found a living, breathing community.

          Where are you? Are you at the center, or on the fringes? Are you searching for something to hold onto when the going gets tough? If so, you're in good company. The encampment at the fringes welcomes pilgrims and wayfarers. Come—sit by the fire.

                                In the spirit,

                                   Jane