This book annoyed me. Maybe I'm just not the intended audience, but it rubbed me the wrong way all the way through. I read to about the halfway point, then skimmed to the end. It did get terribly repetitive, so I didn't appear to miss too much by skimming.
Butler Bass starts off by talking about how she dislikes "self-absorbed and isolating" spirituality. This got me all excited, because I feel similarly. However, I couldn't help but feel that many of the congregations she profiles who supposedly counter this tendency of mainline Protestant spirituality really were just more of the same, sometimes with a somewhat exotic twist, and as a rule more numerically successful than average. My feeling of alienation from the book and the people it profiles only grew as I read onward.
While the book is about "liberal and progressive" churches, it could have been so without outright declaring "evangelicals" as the enemy. Throughout the book "evangelical" is used as a synonym for "bad" or "backwards" or--an issue that should be discussed more openly in "classless" America--"uncouth." You can be anything you want, just don't be "evangelical"--we don't do such things in polite company. Throughout the book, class conflict was an unspoken backdrop, never addressed to its face. As a girl raised in an evangelical Quaker church where working class 'burbs meet rural fields, I'm sensitive to this issue, and don't have the luxury of simply ignoring it. The apologetic Anne Lamott NPR Christians aren't just afraid of being seen as "intolerant" like those evangelical bugbears (in fact they are openly intolerant in their own ways). They are afraid of being seen as cheez-whiz eating, TV watching, unironic Jesus kitsch-sporting "trailer trash."
The author of this book is fond of repeating, over and over again, lists of the kinds of people found in these liberal churches. "Black and white, straight and gay" in particular gets reiterated again and again. While diversity is certainly admirable, Butler Bass makes the usual "progressive" mistake and completely fetishizes it. It's almost like all an old Methodist or Lutheran church needs to revitalize itself is a token black family and a gay mascot.
Butler Bass mourns the loss of the old neighborhoods and moral certainty she grew up with, but neither does she nor the people she profiles seem willing to compromise to regain such a thing. The "enemy" (those low-class conservative evangelicals) must be warded off at all costs. You get the impression that Jesus loves everyone, especially gays and "the homeless," except those embarrassing country cousins. Unironically at one point she points out that "moral purity" is out and that people just want "community" and "don't care what their neighbor is doing." Presumably she means to say that we don't care what our neighbor is doing in his bedroom, but does she not realize that you can't have COMMUNITY without "busybodies" who "care what their neighbor is doing" at SOME level at least? Moral continuity and community require at least some level of "judgementalism" to uphold agreed upon community standards.
I also kept wondering as I read, where are the kids? Because it's great that you're winning converts, but most people eventually have kids. And if they don't feel comfortable there with their kids, the church will die, still, eventually, it will just take a little longer to get there. Many of these churches seemed either oblivious or downright hostile to the needs of children. There were lots of labyrinth walks and "Celtic harp music" (oh, rolling of my eyes) and "contemplative silence" and the word "genteel" was using approvingly quite frequently. But where are the kids supposed to go, in the midst of all this yuppy meditation time?
So anyhow. What makes a dying mainline church come back to life? I was interested to know, because I'm currently looking for a new church after my young family was coldly and unceremoniously squeezed out of an ELCA Lutheran congregation we had called home. I felt increasingly pushed away by the number of sermons that were the pastor railing about politics (from a far left POV) and the disinterest in ministering to families with young kids as compared to the "educated young urban professional" crowd. I loved the traditional worship style but it felt colder and hollower every week, and the pastor was personally offended when I didn't jump for joy at her increasingly flamboyant embrace of moral relativism. The church is dying, and I wonder what could bring it back. According to Butler Bass, my old church was doing everything right. They were a "RIC" church, welcoming sexual minorities. (Loudly and obnoxiously at times.) They were traditional. (Traditional is good, apparently, while "exclusivist" or "conservative" are bad.) They even have "the homeless" attending worship. But still, they're going down fast. Apparently Butler Bass' arithmatic doesn't work for every church.
There were all your stock NPR Christian characters in this book, the pastors getting arrested at protests, the Christian Reiki practitioners (REIKI? barf), the Episcopalian druid services (yes not making that up), the tepid equivocation that maybe moral relativism isn't good. The general tone of smug elitism. Woo! Now I go back to pondering whether to go Catholic or back to the evangelical "low church."