Do You have a Favorite Pew Spot?

My daughter asked me last Sunday: “Where do you sit in church and why did you select that spot?” I thought readers might like to hear my response, even though they may not have reflected on where and why they situate themselves in a particular spot in the auditorium/sanctuary for religious services. My daughter was curious because she sits toward the back.

I am not sure there is anything significant about where one sits in church. There may be about why they sit there, so we may learn something about ourselves by asking the question. I am relatively certain that position in religious acts has little significance to God (if God there be),¹ although I think it is probable that church goers sit where they do for a variety of reasons, both conscious and unconscious reasons.

The Baptist church I attend is a three aisled church with two rows of pews. I regularly sit in the fourth pew from the rear of the church next to the outer aisle on the left facing the pulpit. I tell myself I sit there for utilitarian reasons, since it is under the loudspeaker, which aids in my fading hearing. But there are loudspeakers evenly spaced throughout the auditorium, which raises questions about the utility aspect of where I sit.

I like to sit towards the back of the auditorium because I can easily see most of the people attending the service that morning. And I also like to sit on the aisle because I can easily and more quickly get out of the pew when the service is done and not get caught in the crowd exiting after the service. Because of my balance problems, I have difficulty walking in a crowd, even with a cane.

I find this pew position to be quite comfortable. I have learned the names of those who generally sit around me, who, like I, usually also sit in the same place each Sunday. I have grown accustomed to viewing the service from where I sit, and there is something to say for the comfort of familiar surroundings. Besides, sometimes you like to be around people you know before the service begins. In fact, now that I think of it, everyone I know, attending the service, seems to sit generally in the same place each week.

There is, however, another possibility: that I sit where I do in church for reasons I may have repressed in my unconscious. Unlike the tax collector in Jesus’ story about two men, a Pharisee and a tax collector praying in the temple (Luke 18:10–14), I may have repressed the real reasons I sit where I do. The tax collector in the story seems fully conscious why he stands some distance away to offer his prayer to God (18:13). His distant location in the room corresponds to his sense of alienation from God and perhaps from others as well (18:13).

Sigmund Freud is usually given credit for discovering the unconscious, which he defined “as a reservoir of primitive motives and threatening memories hidden from awareness” in the mind. It is “[i]n classic Freudian theory, a part of the mind that houses emotional memories, desires, and feelings that would be threatening if brought to consciousness.”²

It is possible that I have subconsciously repressed my reasons for sitting where I do. For example, I am not formally a member of the church I have been attending for about four years. They consider me a “regular attender,”³ a classification the church formally recognizes. Thus, I may unconsciously take up a position toward the back of the auditorium because it is a position commensurate with my formal level of participation in church activities. That is to say, I sit where I do to reflect my status as a nonmember who is not fully involved in church activities. Hence, I may unconsciously think I ought to sit in the back some distance away from the center of activities at the front. I hasten to add that my conscious reason for sitting where I do is that I find it a comfortable spot, but who knows what is really going on in their repressed unconscious?

Why do you think you sit where you do in religious services?

Charles W. Hedrick
Professor Emeritus
Missouri State University

¹For example, there is no prescribed “position” for prayer, for example: see Hedrick, “Representing Prayer in Mark and Chariton’s Chaereas and Callirhoe,” Perspectives in Religious Studies 22.3 (Fall 1995), 254.

²P. G. Zimbardo, R. L. Johnson., and V. McCann, Psychology. Core Concepts (6th ed.; Boston: Pearson, 2000), 342.

³A category of relationship to the church. For example, the “Church Roll” is titled: “Members and Regular Attendees.”

What's Good About the Church?

In many ways, today we appear to be headed toward a post-Christian era. One indicator of this turn of affairs is the large number of people who have joined the “Church Alumni Association” (CAA). People who are part of the CAA have either quit the church or their participation in regular formal religious activities has taken a far backseat in their lives. They might claim to be spiritual, but are not formally religious. This is not something new. Even at the dawn of the Christian era there were those who, for one reason or another, abandoned what we know traditionally as the Christian community.¹ Church leaders labeled such people apostates (Heb 6:4-6), but we do not know how they thought of themselves. Were they apostates or heretics?² A few of them are named in early Christian texts. For example, a certain Demas is mentioned positively as a companion of Paul (Col 4:14; Philemon 24), but he is also remembered negatively as having “forsaken” Paul and the Pauline church (2 Tim 4:16).³

The situation of the CAA raises the question: how does one maintain a connection to the Christian tradition when one no longer considers oneself a traditional Christian in terms of the fourth century confessions and creeds of the church, which are still universally used to define post-reformation Christianity? Naturally, there is a prior question: why would one even want to stay connected to the traditional Christian community, when one acknowledges that one is no longer traditionally Christian in terms of the modern church’s confessions and creeds?

Pondering an answer to the “why” question leads me to three personal observations in defense of staying connected to the post-reformation church. In my case the church is my heritage. I grew up regularly attending church, and it has played a major part in my adult life. No one ever completely escapes their own history. I can no more shake the church out of my system, than I can shake off my southern accent and Mississippi upbringing. Church, southern accent, and the Mississippi Delta in part define who I have become. For good or ill I will always be a Baptist “Delta boy,” although I have been exposed to strange and novel ideas, traveled a bit in the Western world, and lived for a spell in some exotic places.⁴ Even “progressive Christians” who, in their more extreme forms have abandoned traditional Christology and theology, have remained traditional in terms of their ecclesiology—that is, they still hold to the idea of the church as a positive social institution for housing their activities; however, they reorient the significance and meaning of the ordinances (baptism and Eucharist). In a sense progressive Christians are still a part of the ecclesiastical scene in society as churches that compete with traditional Christian Christology and theology.

As a responsible citizen of these United States, I have an interest in seeing the traditional church succeed. For all its ills, imperfections, warts, and blemishes, it aims to be a positive force in human society. The Gospel of Matthew (5:13-14) cites Jesus as telling his followers “You are the salt of the earth and the light of the world” (Gospel of the Savior 1:4; compare Matt 5:13-14). Salt is a well-known preservative that enhances the flavors of the ingredients of food—it makes food tastier. And light is essentially necessary for life in a world that becomes dark about every 12 hours. This directive of Jesus is frequently interpreted as humanitarian service that is quite apart from their primary functions. Who would not want to be associated in some way with an institution that aims for the betterment of human life, society, and culture, even if it often misses the mark? A major focus of many progressive churches is “justice in the social order”—something progressive Christians learned from the traditional Christianity from which they have emerged.

As a retired educator, what I find best about the church, however, is that as an institution it sets aside one day a week for pondering, among other things, human values, ethics, and life’s eternal verities (if such there be).⁵ At its finest, it encourages church members to reflect on societal issues and on what one might consider life’s “enduring mysteries” (that is to say: things beyond the material aspects of life). There is no other institution in society that makes such focal points a weekly event. To be sure, one can also find a similar focus in university classes in philosophy and religious studies, but classes end every quarter or semester—and not everyone is able to go to the university. The church, however, is open every week. Because of the iconic role of the Bible in Western culture, weekly Bible study provides a focus for reflecting on such issues.

What, in your view, is good about the church that you can express in non-confessional “secular” language?⁶

Charles W. Hedrick
Distinguished Professor Emeritus
Missouri State University

¹By this I mean to indicate the communities of those authors whose writings have found their way into the New Testament. There were also nontraditional communities in the earliest period who claimed the term “Christian” for themselves as well, although they were very different in thought from those who called themselves the “Orthodox”—like the author of the Gospel of Philip, for example.

²http://blog.charleshedrick.com/search?q=apostates+or+heretics

³Three others are Hymenaus, Alexander, and Philetus (1 Tim 1:20; 2 Tim 4:16).

⁴The term “Delta boy” was coined (so far as I know) by the Rev. Dr. Buddy Shurden, another Mississippi Delta boy.

⁵http://blog.charleshedrick.com/search?q=why+go+to+church

⁶This essay first appeared five years ago, Dec 20, 2019. It appears here edited, updated, and expanded.

What's Good about the Church?

In many ways the current age is tending toward a post-Christian era. One indicator of this turn of affairs is the large number of those who have joined the Church Alumni Association (CAA). People who are part of the CAA have either quit the church or their participation in formal religious activities has taken a far backseat in their lives. This is not something new. Even at the dawn of the Christian era there were those who, for one reason or another, abandoned what we know historically as the traditional Christian community.¹ Church leaders labeled such people apostates (Heb 6:4-6), but we do not know how these folk thought of themselves or what they thought of the traditional Christian communities they left behind, because they left no records. A few are even named; for example, Demas is mentioned positively as a companion of Paul (Col 4:14; Philemon 24), but he is also remembered negatively as having “forsaken” Paul and the Pauline church (2 Tim 4:16).²

            The situation of the CAA raises the question: how does one maintain a connection to the Christian tradition when one no longer considers oneself a traditional Christian in terms of the fourth century confessions and creeds of the church, which are still universally used to define mainstream Christianity? Naturally, there is a prior question: why would one even want to stay connected to the traditional Christian community, when one acknowledges that one is no longer traditionally Christian in terms of the church’s confessions and creeds?

            Pondering an answer to the “why” question leads me to three personal observations in defense of staying connected to the church. In my case the church is my heritage. I grew up in the church; it has played a major part in my adult life and forms the basis of who I am today. No one can completely escape their own history. I can no more shake the church out of my system than I can shake off my southern accent and Mississippi upbringing. Church, southern accent, and the Mississippi Delta in part define who I have become. For good or ill I will always be a Baptist “Delta boy,” although I have been exposed to strange and novel ideas, traveled a bit in the Western world, and lived for a spell in some exotic places.³ Even “progressive Christians” who, in their more extreme forms have abandoned traditional Christology and Theology, have remained traditional in terms of their ecclesiology—that is, they still hold on to the idea of the church as a positive social institution for housing their activities; however, they reorient the significance and meaning of the ordinances (baptism and Eucharist). In a sense progressive Christians are still a part of the ecclesiastical scene in society as churches that compete with traditional Christian forms of the church.

            As a responsible citizen of these United States, I have an interest in seeing the traditional church succeed. For all its ills and imperfections, warts and blemishes it aims to be a positive force in human society. The Gospel of Matthew (5:13-14) cites Jesus as telling his followers “You are the salt of the earth and the light of the world” (Gospel of the Savior 1:4; compare Matt 5:13-14). Salt is a well-known preservative that enhances the flavors of the ingredients of food—it helps food taste more like itself. And light is essentially necessary for life in a world that becomes dark every 12 hours. This directive of Jesus is frequently translated into humanitarian service that is quite apart from their primary religious function. Who would not want to be associated in some way with an institution that aims for the betterment of human life, society, and culture, even if it often misses the mark? A major focus of many progressive churches is “justice in the social order”—something progressive Christians learned from the traditional Christianity from which they have emerged.

            As an educator, what I find best about the church, however, is that as an institution it sets aside one day a week to ponder human values, ethics, and life’s eternal verities (if such there be).⁴ It encourages church members to reflect on societal issues and on what one might consider life’s “enduring mysteries” (that is to say: things beyond the material aspects of life). There is no other institution in society that makes such a focus a weekly event. To be sure, one can also find a similar focus in university classes in philosophy and religious studies but such classes end every quarter or semester—and not everyone is able to go to the university. The church, however, is open every week. Because of the iconic role of the Bible in Western culture, weekly Bible study provides the focus for reflecting on such issues.

What in your view is good about the church that you can express in non-confessional “secular” language?

Charles W. Hedrick

Professor Emeritus

Missouri State University

¹By this I mean to say the communities of those authors whose writings have found their way into the New Testament.  There were nontraditional communities in the earliest period who claimed the term “Christian” for themselves, although they were very different in thought from the traditional communities—like the author of the Gospel of Philip for example.

²Three others are Hymenaus, Alexander, and Philetus (1 Tim 1:20; 2 Tim 4:16).

³The term “Delta boy” was coined (so far as I know) by the Rev. Dr. Buddy Shurden, another Delta boy.

⁴http://blog.charleshedrick.com/search?q=why+go+to+church

Helpers—an overlooked “Church Office.”

The Reformation period churches of the sixteenth century that settled this country during the period of the Renaissance (14th -17th centuries) were very different in organization, spirit, and theological ideas from those loosely organized Christ gatherings (ekklēsiai; incorrectly translated "church") of the middle first century. We have detailed information about only one of those early gatherings—the gathering around Christ at Corinth (1 and 2 Corinthians), but the light cast on the character of nascent Christianity in those letters is enough to produce a jarring recognition of a graphic difference from the Reformation era churches. The gathering at Corinth under Paul's ministry (Rom 15:14-16) was a free-wheeling spirit-led group. By the sixteenth century what in the early period was an informal gathering became an organized creedal institution, for which the designation "church" is entirely appropriate.

 

            One example of the difference is reflected in 1 Cor 12:4-11. Paul discusses varieties of "gifts," which are given by the Spirit of God "for the common good." Hence these charismatic abilities bestowed by God's Spirit are aimed at ennobling and enabling the entire gathering. At the end of the chapter Paul lists a few specific "offices" or recognized functions of leadership (1 Cor12:27-28). These offices consist of apostles, prophets, teachers, [workers of] miracles, gifts of healings, helps, administrations, and [speakers in various¹] kinds of tongues. The people who are gifted with these abilities are not chosen by the gathering to perform services in these areas, rather God has appointed them through the Spirit (1 Cor 12:28). Oddly we find no mention in this passage of deacons (1 Tim 3:8), pastors (Eph 4:11), bishops (1 Tim 3:1), evangelists (Eph 4:11), elders (Tit 1:5), or preachers (1 Tim 2:7). These functions came along later, once the charismatic-spirit of the earliest groups dimmed. Later the churches established qualifications for certain offices and began to select their leaders on the basis of secular qualifications (1 Tim 3:1-13). A cursory glance over the list reveals several official functionaries that are lacking in many churches of the modern era, such as an official who works miracles or [speaks in various] tongues or one who utters prophecy (compare 1 Cor 14:1-25).

 

            One of the early positions, whom God appointed through the Spirit, was that of someone gifted to give "helps," or as it is usually translated "helper" (1 Cor 12:28). The word antilēmpseis translated "helper" appears only here in the New Testament. As to its function, it is listed ahead of administrators and [speakers in various] kinds of tongues and follows immediately after healers. In other words a Spirit-gifted Helper was not regarded as a minor "volunteer" functionary, but such a person was selected specifically to play a significant role in the community—to judge by its association with the other spiritual gifts. For example, the first converts of Achaia (the household of Stephanus) are singled out as "devoting themselves to the service of the saints" (1 Cor 16:15-18) and they deserved to be recognized for their service.

 

            What exactly might the function of Helpers have been? "Perhaps it is similar to the final three items in the list of Rom 12:8 (service, giving to the needs of others, doing acts of mercy)."² Hence some in the Christ gathering at Corinth ministered to the physical and spiritual needs of others in the community,³ and those who possessed this gift had a seat at the table right up there with apostles and prophets or those who performed miracles.

 

            We read of the appointment of elders (Acts 14:23), apostles (Acts 1:21-26), deacons (1 Tim 3:8-13), and preachers (1 Tim 2:7); why shouldn't "helpers" also be recognized as an official function in the church, particularly since Paul insisted that God had appointed them to an official position in the Corinthian gathering?

 

            This analysis subtly raises another question: if the Spirit ever actually charismatically gifted Helpers or [workers of] miracles, why did it stop? Lord knows, we could use a few scientifically confirmable miracles today!

 

Charles W. Hedrick

Professor Emeritus

Missouri State University

 

¹For the superior ability of interpreting tongues over ecstatic speech, see Pau1's comments in 1 Cor 14:5-6, 13, 18-19, 26-28.

²Gordon Fee, First Epistle to the Corinthians, 621.

³Ibid.

Why do you go to Church?

If you do go to church, that is—most people do not regularly attend religious services of any sort.  That is particularly true in the UK and Europe.  This question crossed my mind as I was getting ready for church last Sunday morning.  I should admit, however, that I do not attend worship services.  In that sense I have joined what Robert Funk called "the church alumni association."  On the other hand, I regularly participate in a men's Bible Study group every Sunday at a Southern Baptist Church.  While tying my tie, I began wondering why I even do that.

            As regular readers of this blog will attest about my personal faith—whatever it may be, it is no longer traditional.  I affirm very little of the religious concepts I was taught in my youth, and yet I continue to be involved in Baptist Bible study.  My colleagues in the group, however, continue to hold traditional views.  Recently Bishop John Shelby Spong asked me in front of a small dinner party, "Why do you continue with that church; are you doing mission work?" (I suppose he meant: are you spreading the "gospel of critical thinking").  I have no memory of what I replied that evening, but here are several things that should have come to mind:

I go to Baptist Bible Study because of a sense of community.  Church is not really about theology for most people.  The major reasons most people "find a church home" are family, friends, a shared common experience, and familiarity with traditions—creeds and theology may attract those considering themselves "true believers," but comfortable sociability is a greater attraction.  In short, these are my people, stones off the rock from which I too was hewn.  I know them, their songs, and their unwritten traditions.  I know whence they came and how they got here.  In short, I am one of them—granted a bit odd perhaps, and as one former pastor admitted to a news reporter—"sometimes it is an uncomfortable fit"!  I am not sure that a creedal Episcopalian can appreciate the free–church Baptist mentality, but Baptists have no creeds or common theology—at least not formally!  In practice "The Baptist Faith and Mission Statement" is as close as it comes to a "creed."  This document, however, has changed over time and does not mandate what Baptists must believe, but rather it claims to document what a majority of them do believe.  Dissenting ideas and beliefs have always existed between Baptists; mine is one of those dissenting voices.

I go to the Sunday Bible Study for me—not for the church.  The reason for my regularity is not to enrich myself spiritually, or to "hear a word from the Lord," or any such maudlin conservative sentiments.  In spite of the authoritative claims that all churches make, their confessions and creeds, like the Bible itself, are only human opinions.  Christianity has always been a "big tent religion," and the Church as a collective with its various gospels through the centuries has yet to speak the last word on God and things religious.  There is still something to be said for the individual conscience and finding one's own way.  The issue is too important to be left to the professionals.

I have deliberately set aside one hour each week to reflect on biblical texts that I seldom get to (the Song of Solomon, for example) in order to ponder the human condition, consider my own practical religious behavior, and to ponder the eternal unknowns.  Such ideas seldom ever emerge in the course of my professional work in which I am always the critical scholar of religion.  In this one hour of the week, however, I try to think about my professional subject a little more personally.

I go to Bible study as opposed to church because I can ask questions and speak my mind freely—worship services do not give me that prerogative.  In discussing the texts I can serve as a resource on historical issues, comment on "what are they saying about that in biblical scholarship today?" raise questions, disagree or agree with a class consensus, and always receive polite consideration for what I have to say—not that I sway many minds, but I am not trying to do that.  Like I said, I do this for what I get out of it, rather than for what the class gets out of it.  Of course one does need a thick skin, but I must admit on the whole they are a tolerant bunch.

Whatever the faults of religious institutions in general and traditional Christianity in particular, as institutions they have at least maintained through the centuries a formal space in society where people may individually or collectively ponder the human condition and the eternal verities—if such there be.

Charles W. Hedrick

Professor Emeritus

Missouri State University