Mainline in the Heartland: Presbyterians in Wyoming
Richard R. Crocker
I am sitting in the basement of the Presbyterian Church in the tiny town
of Burns, Wyoming (population 304) where all seven of the church elders have
gathered around a table laden with simple refreshments to talk with me about
their church. Good humor and genuine
hospitality prevail as they take my measure – a visitor from “the East” who is
making a tour of Presbyterian churches in the state. One of the elders, sitting
next to me, laughs as he turns his head toward me and says, ”We had a Democrat
here once, but we killed him.” I laugh with them, but I get the message.
I went Wyoming to study the American culture wars. I wanted to see at
close hand how recent controversial decisions in one of America’s Mainline
Protestant denominations, the Presbyterian Church (USA), were being received in
the heartland.
I had spent much of the morning at the First Presbyterian Church of
Cheyenne and much of the afternoon at the First Presbyterian
Church of Burns. The Cheyenne Church is the epitome of establishment. It
occupies a large beautiful stone edifice a block away from the Wyoming capitol,
and adjoins the Wyoming Supreme Court. It has a gorgeous sanctuary, 500
members, and an extensive staff. It is one of the oldest churches in the
capital, and one of the wealthiest. As was usual across the state, my welcome
there was extremely warm. The pastor and elder with whom I met provided
accounts of the rich history of the church. The theological tone is quite
moderate. They have had a few disgruntled members over the years, some leaving
because of personal issues, and some theological. A few have left for more
liberal milieus, and a few have left for more conservative ones. The
controversial decisions of the PCUSA are rarely discussed. The pastors have not
yet had a request to perform a gay marriage. They will cross that bridge when
they come to it. This is the church where people have a deeper commitment to
civility than to being right. I felt very comfortable there.
The First Presbyterian Church of Burns is 30 miles east of Cheyenne in a
very small, rural community. The streets are not paved. There is a regional
high school there that draws students from a wide area. The church is in an
attractive, well-maintained facility, with a new multi-media audio-visual
system. It has a membership of 27 and an average attendance of about 20. The elders
I spoke with were warm-hearted and welcoming, and we laughed at their
good-natured jokes about liberals. This church is, they say, composed of
like-minded people who are all "conservative Christians." They are
deeply saddened about the secular direction of American culture and the
accommodation of the PCUSA to that culture. They believe that the church should
lead the nation/community toward righteousness, rather than accommodating to
its worldliness. They are deeply opposed to church sanctioning of homosexual
relationships, because it goes against what the Bible says "in black and
white." One person fears that the Bibles sold in the future will omit
certain passages and change certain words to make it more palatable to a
degenerate culture. Similarly, they were deeply distressed about the PCUSA
General Assembly's decision to divest from several companies that are deemed
complicit with the destruction of Palestinian communities. They see the church
as becoming anti-Semitic. The Bible says, they say, that those who bless Israel
will be blessed, and those who curse Israel will be cursed. They see America as
now being cursed because of its supposed abandonment of Israel. Interestingly,
one person said that, to be consistent, if we insist that Israel should return
land to the Palestinians, then the US should give back all the land it took
from the Indian nations. But these people, who could probably tell that I was
not in agreement with their position, were personally very warm to me, and they
insisted that, in any written report, I should make it plain that they love
everyone.
These two churches represent the great conflict and divide, not only in
Wyoming Presbyterianism, but in American Protestantism – indeed - in American Christianity. They spring from very
different ways of interpreting the Bible, and the opposing positions are held
by good and earnest people. But their beliefs and opinions seem irreconcilable.
I chose to visit and study PCUSA congregations because I am a minister
in that denomination, and because I feel partially responsible for some of the
decisions it has made. As a Commissioner from the Presbytery of Northern New
England to the General Assembly of the PCUSA held in June 2014 in Detroit, I
voted on many difficult issues – not only on the redefinition of marriage, but
also on the very controversial decision to divest church funds from certain
companies that the Israeli government has relied upon to maintain its occupation
of Palestinian lands, and also on the resolution to advocate greater
restriction on gun availability. All of these decisions, we were told, would
result in individuals and congregations leaving the denomination – a prediction
that has proven accurate. Recent statistics from the Pew Research Institute
confirm the fact that almost all American Christian churches are losing
members, but the loss among Mainline Protestant churches over the last seven
years – from 18.1 percent to 14.7 percent of the population – and losses in the
PCUSA are among the largest. In the last
five years for which data are available, the PCUSA has lost 15% of its
membership - (from 2,077,138 to 1,760,300) and 6% of it congregations (from
10,657 to 10,038). At its height, in
1965, the denomination had 4.25 million members. Other smaller and more conservative
denominations (The Orthodox Presbyterian Church, The Presbyterian Church in
America, and the Evangelical Presbyterian Church, in particular) have absorbed
some of these congregations and individual members.
What is perhaps surprising is that the Presbytery of Wyoming has lost
only two congregations, reducing the number from 30 to 28. The membership,
however, has fallen greatly in the last five years – from 4535 to 3418 – a loss
of almost 25%. While the controversies have not ended, and while other
congregations yet may secede, it is notable that Wyoming Presbytery has
maintained the majority of its members and churches.
With a population of just over a half million, scattered over an area as
big as all New England, Wyoming is the least densely populated state in the
nation, with the exception of Alaska. The Presbyterian Church USA (PCUSA) is
represented there by 28 congregations. Despite its small numbers, both of
Wyoming’s (Republican) US Senators are active Presbyterians. Wyoming is known
for its political conservatism, having, in recent years, always elected
Republican national senators and representatives, and in 2012, having given a
larger percentage of its votes to the Republican presidential candidate than
any state except Utah. Former Vice President Dick Cheney is probably the
state’s best known politician. But, at
the same time, the conservatism of Wyoming is distinct from that of some other
western states. Rather than harboring active militia groups, the state is known
for its “live and let live” libertarian traditions. It was the first state in the
nation to acknowledge women’s right to vote, and it elected some of the
nation’s first female public officials. These facts made Wyoming a valuable
place to explore how the congregations of an increasingly liberal Protestant
denomination were expressing their Christian faith.
The Presbyterians in Burns, like many others I met in Wyoming, felt that
the church had abandoned it both its history and its roots. While this attitude
was not shared by all the Presbyterians I met in Wyoming, it was a common theme.
The desire to uphold tradition is understandable. The Presbyterian
tradition has been spiritually and culturally important in American history. Drawing
mainly during colonial days from Scots,
northern English, and Scots-Irish
immigrants, Presbyterians spread from Long Island and New Jersey to
South Carolina, and, later, from Western Pennsylvania along the Appalachian
mountains to northern Georgia. Embodying a strongly Calvinistic theology which
had asserted itself during the English civil wars, Presbyterians were
enthusiastic proponents of American independence. John Witherspoon, a
Presbyterian minister and president of Princeton, was the only clergyman to
sign the Declaration of Independence.
Unlike the Episcopal Church, where prayers for the British king were part
of the prescribed liturgy, Presbyterians and some of their Calvinistic
Congregationalists cousins in New England were fiercely independent. As
Presbyterian missionaries such as Marcus and Narcissa Whitman often accompanied
and even led the westward expansion
along the Oregon trail, they brought
along not only the sense of fierce independence that made them eager
revolutionaries, but also the
fractiousness that has plagued them ever since. Whether the issue was psalm-singing
versus hymn-singing, using instruments in worship, the propriety of
evangelistic preaching, the issues surrounding slavery and the civil war, the
rise of fundamentalism, or the proper role of women in worship, Presbyterians
have debated passionately the proper interpretation of the Bible, often
resulting in each side often forming its own denomination. Reunions have taken
place – the most notable being the reunion of the Northern and Southern Presbyterians
in 1983. But contentiousness has never disappeared. Indeed, contentiousness
and, some would say, stubbornness, have been hallmarks of Presbyterians, along
with an intense loyalty to their interpretations of the Bible, an insistence
on properly educated ministers, and the
desire to influence social policy in a way that is seen as godly. These factors
have been both the strength and the weakness of the Presbyterian tradition.
While Presbyterians have never dominated any state, they have been present in all
of them, and, in Wyoming, they established themselves in many towns – sometimes
as the only Protestant, non-Mormon church.
Presbyterian Christians are notable not only for their Calvinistic doctrines,
but also for their form of government. Unlike the congregational tradition,
where each congregation is autonomous, or the episcopal traditions, where
authority is invested solely or partially in bishops, Presbyterians are a
connectional church governed by Elders (from the Greek: presbuteros). Each congregation
elects ruling elders, who, along with the pastors – who are called teaching
elders - constitute the church session, or ruling body. Presbyteries consist of
all the teaching elders, as well as at least one ruling elder from each
congregation, in a given area. Presbyteries have authority over particular
congregations. Larger representatives bodies, the synod, and, ultimately, the General
Assembly, have authority over Presbyteries. The Confessions of Faith and the Book
of Order – which together constitute the church’s constitution - govern all bodies
of the church, and these documents can be amended only by actions of the
General Assembly that are confirmed by a majority, or in important decisions, a
supermajority of the presbyteries. It is a rather awkward and time-consuming
form of government, but there are those who love it.
After years of contentious debate, discussions about sexuality and other
issues came to a point of decision in the 2014 General Assembly. By a vote of
429 to 179, marriage was redefined, and this decision was then affirmed by a
vote in the presbyteries, 121 voting in favor and 48 opposed. It is not
surprising that dissident congregations and individuals would assert their disagreement,
and that some would secede from the denomination. Some presbyteries have lost half
of their congregations.
It was in this context that, with funding provided through a pastoral
study grant from the Louisville Institute, I went to Wyoming, with the
intention of visiting all its Presbyterian churches, talking with pastors and
elders and church members, to discover how they were interpreting their
Christian faith and their denominational allegiance amid the conflicts that are
both cultural and ecclesiastical. I spent six weeks visiting Presbyterian
churches in Wyoming’s cities, towns, and villages. Three of the 28 congregations
are union or federated or cooperative parishes, which maintain joint
affiliation with either the United Methodist Church or the Evangelical Lutheran
Church in America. One of the congregations is Korean. Having asked permission
of the Presbytery Council to visit, and having contacted the churches ahead of
time, I was warmly welcomed almost everywhere.
During my six-week visit to Wyoming, where I met with 26 of the 28
churches (two pastors declined to meet with me), I noticed things that, while obvious
and familiar to its citizens, struck me as notable and significant. The first
was the economic climate. Wyoming, the cowboy state, is more accurately the
mining state. Coal, oil, and gas – along with the railroads that transport
their products – dominate the state. Ranches and cattle are plentiful, and the
tourist industry is very important, but the mining interests provide the lion’s
share of employment in the state and pay most of its taxes. The result is that
any federal measures imposing stricter standards on carbon emissions are met
with almost universal fear and resistance, and President Obama is widely
distained as waging “a war on coal.” Having been through many boom and bust
times, Wyomingites are acquainted with the fragility of prosperity, and they
are understandably skeptical of any measures that threaten it. This factor,
along with others, produces a strong sense of distinctiveness in Wyoming, and a
distrust of federal initiatives. This distrust of centralized authority extends
not only to civil government, but also to any centralized ecclesial government.
One irony about this fact is that almost half the land in Wyoming is owned by
the federal government, and much of the mining occurs on land that is leased
from the government. Wyoming is a wealthy state with many poor people. The
discrepancy between rich and poor is notable, simply by looking at the
disparate housing patterns. The Wind River Indian Reservation, the only
reservation in the state and the home to both Shoshone and Arapaho tribes, is
one of the poorest in the nation.
Same gender marriage, I discovered, is less
controversial in the state than federal emission standards. While surveys
indicate that a slowly shrinking majority of its citizens oppose gay marriage,
there is also a pervasive sense of not wanting to interfere with the personal
and private rights of other citizens or church members. Thus it was significant
that the 2014 General Assembly’s redefinition of marriage, when considered by
the Presbytery of Wyoming, was rejected by only one vote (21-20). More
controversial were the decisions of the General Assembly (which did not affect
the Constitution of the church, and therefore did not require ratification by
the presbyteries) to divest church funds
in Motorola, Hewlitt-Packard, and Caterpillar – companies that were
identified as undergirding Israeli
occupation of Palestinian land. Opposition to the General Assembly’s
resolutions supporting greater gun control were uniformly opposed. Indeed, the
acceptance of guns as ubiquitous in Wyoming seems unquestioned. Licenses are
not required to own or carry guns. As the resident of a state where opinions
about gun control are more varied, I was surprised by the many signs on the doors
of stores and restaurants saying “Your guns are welcome here.” One sign in a
restaurant, while amusing, was also emphatic. It read “Due to the price of
ammunition, you will not be given a warning shot.” While churches are free to
prohibit weapons, pastors told me that they assumed that many members of their
congregations would be armed during worship.
Hunting, of course, is a major recreational and economic activity in Wyoming,
and, in addition to signs saying “Hunters and guns are welcome here”, there are
prayers in worship for hunters, and the sight of men and women in camouflage, carrying
rifle cases during hunting season is absolutely normal. Any governmental
(whether civil or ecclesial) actions to restrict gun ownership and access are
seen as an infringement on a very sacred right.
In the climate that I have described, one might well ask why – and how –
the PCUSA maintains any Wyoming constituency at all. Why are the congregations
loyal to a denomination that takes stands with which they may passionately
disagree?
First, one must acknowledge that there has been conflict. Two congregations,
the historic First Presbyterian Church of Casper and the small rural congregation
in Yoder, have withdrawn from the denomination. There has been considerable
conflict in several other congregations, leading to the departure of many
members. In fact, every single congregation I visited, with the exception of
one, reported that they had lost members as a result of the General Assembly
decisions. Two other congregations, in Lingle and Torrington, remain in the
denomination after votes to secede failed to reach the two-thirds majority
required. There may still be other
congregations that withdraw.
Yet most have stayed. Why? The answers to this question of continued
unity emerged from my conversations with pastors and elders, and they are relatively
simple.
The primary answer springs from a deeply conservative kind of loyalty.
In congregations of all sizes, I heard appreciation for a Presbyterian heritage
that is anchored in the work of fabled missionaries like Marcus Whitman and
Sheldon Jackson. There is a sense of connection to the past, and an
appreciation of it, that makes many people reluctant to abandon their long-established
affiliation. “This church,” one member in Greybull told me, “has endured
through many controversies; it will endure through this one if we just hang on.”
In addition to loyalty, there is also, ironically,
a sense of independence. Many ruling and teaching elders told me: “What the national
church does doesn’t affect us. We are who we are. And we will stay that way.
These decisions have no effect on us.” Because of the resolutions on gun
control and divestment, some members have elected to withhold their annual per capita
contribution (tax) from the national church. Many also see the marriage
decision as one that, because it simply gives ministers and sessions the
permission to conduct same sex marriage ceremonies but does not require that
they do so, has no impact on them. They are confident that their pastor, and
their session, will not approve such marriages. The Korean pastor in Cheyenne
showed me a statement by the National Council of Korean Presbyterian Churches
(there are 400 of them) saying that they unanimously agreed not to perform same
sex weddings. “Other than this,” he said, “we are Presbyterian.” The session of
the church in Gillette adopted a policy that same gender weddings could not be
conducted in their church building. Another pastor in a rural church told me “I
would not conduct a same-gender marriage, and I doubt that any pastor in the
presbytery would.” He was wrong.
Highlands Presbyterian Church, the smaller of
two Presbyterian churches in Cheyenne, has welcomed and embraced the
possibility of gay marriage – and has in fact already celebrated the marriage
of two of its long-time members. Ironically, its long time part-time interim
pastor, Roger McDaniel, widely known throughout the state for his Democratic
politics and liberal views that he advocates in a weekly newspaper column, is a
minister in the Disciples of Christ Church, rather than the Presbyterian. Gay
marriage is a reality, not only in Wyoming, but in a Presbyterian church in
Wyoming. And, since several pastors told me that they have openly gay members,
I expect that the issue will arise in other congregations as well.
Thirdly, what protects these congregations
from division at the moment is an almost universally determined commitment “not
to talk about it.” As I was told almost everywhere, ”We just don’t talk about
it.” Sometimes there was an explanation: “We would rather not know if we disagree
with someone. We are a small group, and it is more important just to get along,
so we don’t talk about things that we might disagree about.” Such a strategy
may lead to the belief that there is a consensus when in fact there is not. But
it allows cohesion.
In the larger First Presbyterian Church in
Cheyenne, where the pastor had told me congregational opinions on such issues
spanned the spectrum, a long-time elder said that he had told a friend about
attending a same-gender wedding. His friend, another long-time member, was
offended and disbelieving. “How could you do that?” was the question. But the
elder told me, “I just said that we just disagreed on this matter. And we
haven’t spoken about it again.”
As Kathleen Norris acknowledges in her book Dakota:
A Spiritual Geography, which is a discussion of spiritual life in the
plains of South Dakota, small communities survive by not talking about controversy
– by papering over disagreement, or refusing to acknowledge its existence. This
is one of the reasons that PCUSA congregations, and probably many other
communities, continue to cohere. There is a cost to such a conspiracy of silence;
issues that might productively be discussed are not discussed. But the pain of
disagreement is avoided.
The study and interpretation of the Bible has
been at the heart of the Protestant Christian tradition, both its agreements
and controversies. As one pastor of a congregation in a small town told me,
speaking about how the other members of town’s ministerial alliance viewed her,
“It’s hard, because some of them refuse to recognize me as a pastor, because I
am a woman.” I heard this comment from several female pastors. Often they are
the only female pastors in the town. Many conservative denominations understand
that the Bible as prohibits female pastors. This was once an issue in the
Presbyterian tradition as well, but it was settled in the 1960s, when church congregations
that understood the Bible to prohibit female pastors withdrew, forming the
Presbyterian Church in America. Now, this same pastor told me, the Presbyterian
decision on gay marriage has led other ministerial colleagues in her town to
assert “The Presbyterians don’t believe the Bible.” This is a difficult
accusation to counter if one is speaking to someone whose method of Biblical
interpretation (hermeneutic) is simple and absolute. It is hard to explain that
another equally sincere and well-informed understanding of the Bible can lead
to embracing the possibility of same sex marriage. It is especially hard if
pastors promote, as absolute, a naïve reading of scripture.
Like many other mainline Protestant churches,
the PCUSA in Wyoming is trying to move forward, albeit slowly and deliberately,
against strong cultural headwinds. In such a storm, there is a tendency to
huddle together for protection. That is certainly one strategy for survival.
Another strategy, such as the one adopted by the Highlands Church, is to raise
a progressive flag and say “This is who we are.” In a city such as Cheyenne,
where there is a sufficient population, there are people who will be attracted
to such a stand - perhaps a small number,
but still a viable group. In small and dwindling towns, with very small and
dwindling congregations, such diversity of opinion is less likely to be
supported.
Several PCUSA congregations in Wyoming,
however, are apparently thriving. The Shepherd of the Hills in Casper, First
Presbyterian Church in Sheridan, the Federated Community Church of Thermopolis,
First Presbyterian Church in Laramie, the Presbyterian Church of Jackson Hole,
– while in no sense megachurches - are nonetheless apparently healthy and are
more than holding their own. Why? These churches are traditional in a different
sense. In urban or suburban settings, with exceptionally able pastors, they
have been able to establish and sustain traditional programs, particularly
youth programs that attract families. As is the case throughout the nation,
people increasingly attend churches based on factors other than denomination. Churches
that have a youth program (even though most report that their youth groups have
diminished) are likely to be more attractive to families. Denominational identity
and social stances tend to matter less than the perceived vitality of the
congregation. But while that strategy may work in population centers, it is less
successful in small towns and villages where aging congregations have no young
people at all. Yet, even those small churches, for the moment, at least, endure.
One of the questions I routinely asked interviewees is, “What words would you
use to describe your congregation?” One pastor of a very small congregation (about
twelve attendees) in a very small town choose the word “happy.” ”Happy?”, I
asked. “In what sense?” “Happy just to be here at all,’ he said. At that
church, after Sunday worship, the twelve of us gathered around a table and all
ate peach cobbler. We were happy.
Other smaller churches, which describe
themselves as “community centered”, are also relatively vital. Almost all of
these churches are extensively involved in community ministries such as food
pantries, stuffing backpacks with food for school children, many of whom depend
on a subsidized lunch program, to take home over the weekend, staffing thrift
stores, etc. Because the groups have
ministries that extend beyond themselves, their role in their community is
appreciated, and their influence in community is larger than their membership.
As one pastor told me, “My people would rather do than talk.”
My observations in Wyoming confirm undeniable
and obvious facts: mainline Protestant denominations, and especially the PCUSA,
face challenges, both external and internal. They are not all dead or dying, but
many are wounded, casualties of the deep political, cultural, and theological
fragmentation in our nation, and in the world.
The major question to be asked is: What is at
stake here? Why do these observations about Presbyterians in Wyoming matter? For
Christians, what is at stake is not simply the demise of any particular denomination
or religious perspective; the issue is what it means to be a follower of Jesus
Christ in our time and place. This is
the question being asked, either explicitly or implicitly, by all of these
congregations in Wyoming, and by the Christian church at large. The continuing
discussion, or conflict, in answering this question is part of the conversation
that constitutes the Christian tradition. For non-Christians, the issue at
stake is a less theological and more cultural one: what role does religious
conflict play in the survival of a cohesive multicultural democracy?
The answers to these questions matter, and
the fact that thoughtful and caring people have different and sometimes incompatible
perspectives, concerns us all. We are all interested in the outcome of this
conversation, even if we are neither Wyomingites or Presbyterians.
My observations lead me to believe that, no
matter what denomination, the de facto church polity in America is
congregational. Most congregations (even
at times Roman Catholic parishes) feel that they are, or should be, autonomous,
making their own decisions and answering to no “federal” authority. Community trumps denomination. Even
congregations that have a core of denominationally loyal members report that
most members have little sense of denominational identity.
Pastoral leadership is key to providing a
healthy and constructive context for
conversation in congregations, and, perhaps, in the larger community as well. Congregations
almost always follow their pastors. The two churches in Wyoming that left the
PCUSA left at leaast in part because od their pastoral leadership. Congregations, even conservative
ones, have remained because their pastor provides a model of the ability to
tolerate and interpret ambiguity. Most Presbyterian and other mainline pastors
have been taught to interpret the Bible with the use of literary and historical
tools that are commonplace in the academy but sometimes foreign to many
church-goers. These pastors are trained to appreciate ambiguity. For many
congregations, however, and for and some pastors, their de facto theology
appears to be a kind of “latent fundamentalism”, which rests upon readings of the
Bible that eschew ambiguity. Congregations depend upon their pastors to help
them understand the Bible and to help them address the central questions of the
meaning of Christian discipleship. Many pastors, however, are either reluctant
or ill-equipped to pose questions that challenge beliefs of their church
members that may have been formed with a more absolutist hermeneutic. Providing competent, caring, effective pastoral
leadership is always a challenge; it requires, like the practice of medicine,
skill, intuition, and experience.
Nowhere is this challenge more apparent than
in the failure of almost all churches to maintain the allegiance of their
youth. The Pew Research Institute data document the massive alienation from any
religious that characterizes American youth (ages 18-30). Many have never been
exposed to a religious tradition; others have simply opted out. One can only
conclude from these facts that the church as a whole has been largely
unsuccessful in engaging its own young people, much less others, in addressing the intersection
of faith and culture. To meet these challenges, pastors who have been trained both
in the polity of their denomination and in the contemporary academic methods of
Biblical interpretation must strive for a clearer and more compelling
simplicity. Congregations rarely want to
hear academic lectures. But failure to make them aware of developments in
Biblical understanding constitutes a kind of pastoral malpractice. Pastors must
be able to assert, simply and convincingly, the deep convictions that emerge
from their tradition as it interacts with the inescapable cultural questions
that confront all of us – but particularly our youth. While one must expect that different answers
and perspectives may emerge in the discussion, as they have throughout
Christian history, and unanimity in a fractured church is unlikely, it is even
more certain that the questions cannot be avoided and that thoughtful people will
not be long satisfied with simplistic answers. Often, it appears, the church’s
proclamation is either not clear and therefore is misunderstood, or is
understood but is not compelling. The future, not only of the PCUSA, but of the
church as a whole, depends upon a spiritual renewal that is formed, not by
either nostalgia or the simplistic certainties of fundamentalism or secularism,
but upon engaging in strenuous and honest conversations that take seriously the
essential and complex tasks of rightly dividing the word of truth.
