Is the Church a Social Club?
WHEN the strains of Thomas' orchestra had died away in one church, to be succeeded by Shakspearean readings; and when in another church, after a glee club had rejoiced the audience, and portions of Julius Caesar had been recited, the pastor arose, in the place where he ordinarily preaches the gospel of Christ and administers the sacraments, and delivered a "ludicrous" and "inimitably funny" address, on "Shall he wear a silk hat?"—when we remark, these exercises were concluded it did seem a not unfitting time to ask thinking Christian people: Is the church a social club, or a divine foundation? In the name of God, whom we serve, which is it? Or is it both? Or, if neither, what is it? And we ask these questions now, not in a jesting mood; not wholly in a critical mood; we ask them in a sad and anxious spirit, believing that the true idea of the church is fast fading out in this country, and that unless something occurs to awaken the hearts of God's people to this truth, the very honor and good name of the institution which our Saviour founded will be brought into disrepute and degradation in many places. Departure from a standard cannot be fully realized till the standard itself is cited. Therefore, to ascertain where the church is to-day, let us cite the standard of the divine ideal of the church. In the Old Testament, we see God gathering his people together, a spiritual household, within the inclosure of the tabernacle; there whilst priests in stainless robes perform the rites of sacrifice, the Presence comes in clouds of glory, and Israel bows beneath the overwhelming consciousness of a God revealed—a law proclaimed. In the New Testament where do we find the divine ideal of the church more clearly drawn than in the epistle to the Ephesians, in these words: "Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it; that he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water, by the word, that he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish." Citing this standard of the church, we affirm our belief that the church in America is losing in many places even the outward semblance of a divine foundation, established by the death of the Son of God, and existing for the help and comfort of souls struggling through a sinful and difficult world toward a vast eternity. The idea of the church, as Christ gave us that idea, is fading out here. We will not be general. We will be explicit, and state that it is fading out in these directions: 1. In growing irreverence for the house of God. 2. In growing misapprehensions about Christian fellowship. 3. In a conventionalism that starves the soul. Take these in detail:— 1. There is a growing irreverence for the house of God. Children are finding out that the place can be demeaned for all sorts of uses without rebuke from any quarter. Young people's associations are growing bolder in their claim upon the church buildings in the interests of a jollity that passes for religious activity. Adults are now in two classes: those who encourage such things—on the ground that "the church must be made attractive"—and those who in silence and with aching heart feel that the noble sanctity of God's earthly house (a sanctity that is so far from superstition!) is fast departing. 2. There is a growing misapprehension about Christian fellowship: the deplorable idea that the church must furnish what the world calls "society." The modern "communion of saints" is freely believed to involve salad and ices; that your church will not be "successful" unless you "get the people together for social intercourse." No one would admit more freely than the writer that there must be "social intercourse" in church life. The truth is, you could not prevent it if you would; but the fellowship of the ideal church is on a basis of Christian work, and prayer, and benevolence, and the friendly visit to the stranger, and the sympathetic call upon the sick and sad, the natural intermingling of friend with friend; and not on a basis of social pleasure. It is the fellowship that springs up naturally between hearts that are alike earnest to follow Christ, to work for him, to bring the world to him; or that fellowship, different but equally noble, between one who yearns to do good and one who, though not243a Christian, feels the power of Christian interest and sympathy. 3. There is a prevalent conventionalism that starves the soul. We do not mean what is called "stiffness;" in other words, the reserve common among people of good breeding; we mean the reverse, expressed by the conventional religious phrase, that "Everybody must be made to feel at home:" which practically means, that before or after divine service everybody must chat with and nod to his neighbor, and gaily discuss current topics, in order to dispel the feeling of "stiffness." We affirm that this has starved the soul of many and many an attendant at church by driving away all thought of seeking Christ in his own means of grace; by utterly dispelling the solemn impressions that may have been registered by the service upon the soul. Along these three lines the Christly ideal of the church is fading out, and is being supplanted by the principles of action suitable in a social club. And this fading out of the Christly ideal has been accelerated by several influences which we can only mention as secondary to our main point. Among these we mention the practice of church sociables, conducted by an organized entertainment committee; the practice of arranging fairs, dramatic, literary, or musical exhibitions, for the filling of empty treasuries and the bolstering up of sickly enterprises; the yet grosser practice of "letting out" the church as a concert and lecture hall, or for such unmentionable degradation as may be included under the name of "wax works," enticing the public to help pay debts the people ought to pay, or not contract. These things seem to us to be just as surely as possible blotting out from our church life the image and superscription of the Son of God, and to be rendering less and less probable the continuance of the church as a saving, ennobling influence in modern society. And within the realm of worship there are similar destructive influences at work; which, also, we merely mention. The use of rollicking "revival" songs, that teach little worthy to be learned, that emasculate the gospel story, that involve trivial and worthless tunes; the irreverent and irresponsible work of choirs which disgrace the lofty service of the Divine Being; and, above all, the eccentric, Christless preaching, which wanders everywhere for material, and too seldom to him "in whom dwelleth all the fullness of the Godhead." The combined work of all these destructive influences has brought about the following conditions: It is a sine qua non that a church shall be sociable; it is often the first question asked, "Is your church a social one?" It is the unpardonable sin if you have been six times to church and no one has nodded to you. "Ah," you say, "no such church for me. It is too rich and too cold—it has too many diamond ear-rings in it." And the more active a church is socially, the more "live" it is believed to be. . . . But you say, "Man is a social being; he must find friends." So he must; and so he will unless he holds off. There is always a social life in a church, as I have said, by necessity; there never was a church without it, and you will by degrees work into friendships if you show yourself approachable. But the ideal church subordinates the social to the spiritual; does not try to organize the social element as such; lets it take care of itself, and seeks only to draw people into the work of Christ, and the work of Christ means brotherhood, the communion of saints! The disease fastened on our American church life is Yankeeism: the idea that you must be "chatty," and if everybody is "chatty," and church life buzzes along with little sociables, and tea parties, and suppers, and entertainments, and everybody has a jolly time, that church that has plenty of life in that church. That is the end of your "proud, stuck-up churches" (to use the actual words of others), "where nobody knows anyone and nobody speaks to you." If there is nothing but the service going on, they call this Yankeeism in church life; and before asking whether it represents a true or false principle, I only quote again the Christly ideal of the church, emphasizing certain words:—"Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it; that he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water, by the word, that he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish." What is the cause of this Yankeeism? People are looking at each other, and not at Christ, and they want the spice of worldly life introduced in the church. If we looked at him and worshiped him, the church would satisfy us, the worship would satisfy us and we would deplore as an intrusion any petty social amusement introduced in connection with our church life. We would say: Defile not my church life with the footprints of the world. Let there be one place where the world is not suggested. Let me have one Holy of Holies left in my life; a place where I can commune with my Saviour and lose all thought of smaller matters in the infinite greatness of Calvary and the heavenly Jerusalem! The conclusion of the whole matter is this: The churches of America, the Christians of America, need the baptism of the Holy Ghost:— To keep alive the aspiration for holiness. If we aspire to that, if we hunger and thirst for God, what do we want of a little paltry amusement in our church? It is irrelevant; it is a trial to us. "Take these things hence." To bring out Christ before us—on his cross. The Spirit of God must clear the air so that we shall see the cross more clearly, and know what it means, and glory in Christ and him crucified. To make us live in Christ, and thus seek the conversion of souls. Fault-finding one, complaining that the church is "unsocial," be ashamed! Bury thy petty spirit, and begin to care for the unsaved souls about thee. In work thou shalt be drawn to other workers, and find a noble, not a paltry fellowship, in doing good within Christ's glorious church! —Rev. Chas. C. Hall, in Christian Union.