THE CHURCH OF THE FAT LAND THE FIRST ARTICLE IN A SERIES ON THE COUNTRY CHURCH BY MARTHA BENSLEY BRUÈRE AND ROBERT W. BRUÈRE The series of articles, the first of which follows, is the result of several months of travel and observation by the authors in many sections of the United States. The articles answer in the negative the assertion that the country church is dying out. They show that, on the contrary, it is adapting itself to new social conditions and human wants. Incidentally the articles recount personal experiences of unusual interest-sometimes amusing, often illuminating. Articles to follow will be entitled "The Church of the Lean Land," "The Church of the Other Six Days," and "Pew versus Pulpit," and there will be a final article drawing conclusions, with illustrative incidents. Mrs. Bruère will be remembered by all readers of The Outlook as the author of a striking series of articles on "Home Efficiency" which appeared in The Outlook in 1912. Mr. Bruère is well known as a writer on social topics in New York, as an officer of the Rand School of Social Science, and in connection with other sociological work.-THE EDITORS. T RUSTING people who live in the cities and who read denominational reports are quite convinced that religion is dying out of the rural districts. They take it for granted that the power of the country church is measured by the strength of the responses from the "Amen corner," by bearded deacons and frock-coated elders, and the willingness of the congregation to sit through the long prayer on uncushioned benches; and there are plenty of official statements to confirm them in their illusions. In 1911 the Rev. H. G. Beeman said: In the States of Minnesota, Nebraska, and Iowa in twenty-five years 281 Baptist churches have been dropped from the lists and 82 are on the point of being abandoned. In Ohio there are 150 pastorless Baptist churches, and 100 would be classed as decadent. The Presbyterian Board reports that out of 232 rural churches in Indiana 37.6 per cent are standing still and 47.8 per cent are losing ground; that of 225 churches in Illinois covering twenty denominations, including the Roman Catholic, 45 are at a standstill, 56 have lost membership, and 47 have been abandoned in the last ten years; and that in three counties in Missouri where a survey was made 8 per cent are stationary, 24 per cent losing ground, 19 per cent dying, and 11 per cent are dead. Practically every denomination makes similar statements. Led on by such statistics, we went out early in 1913 to see for ourselves the passing of religion in the country. The first abandoned church we found was in the richest agricultural section of the United States-the southern Iowa section of the corn belt. It was a poor, decrepit old thing, stumbling down on its forequarters like a lamed horse, but impressive because of the virtue that had gone out of it in the days when Iowa was new and the struggling settlers crowded in to hear about the Promised Land as the nearest place where there was plenty to eat and a chance to rest. The stiff hinges yielded to us reluctantly; a startled bird fluttered up from its nest on the inner arch; everything was in disorder except the dust, which had not been disturbed since the last funeral. Lying on the pulpit was a report containing eight letters from the churches in the district: From the church at Caldwell-" One conver sion, but no additions to the church." From the church at Freewill-"Some interest, but no additions to the church. We report five members excluded for non-fellowship." From the church at New Sodom-"We have been strengthened by the addition of six members, four of whom were young sisters from the ranks of our Sunday-school." From the church at Paleton-"Was sorry to lose two by letter and one dismissed by request. One confessed Christ with great joy and praising God." From the church at Pleasant Rose-" Our AN ABANDONED CHURCH AND A NEW CHURCH THAT IS TO TAKE THE PLACE OF AN ABANDONED ONE The building at the left is not altogether abandoned, for it was sold to the township for use as a township hall. The building at the right is an example of the kind of church that some congregations in the West are moving into when they "abandon" the old church home church is in a languishing condition; still we have a faithful few who are trying to hold up the cross of Christ." From the church at Riverside-" Five conversions and two renewals." From the church at Turner-" On the part of members of our church there has been very little done." From the church at Leath-" We feel as if we have not done as much for the cause as we would like to have done, and as a church we feel very weak." With these is published a circular letter containing this church counsel : Jesus never came to this world simply to show it how to live. . . . He came to die. . . . The mission of Jesus Christ to this world was definite and distinct, and so is the mission of his Church and of every man and woman in his Church. .. What is this mission of the Church?... To answer this we go back to our question, What brought Jesus to this world? We say again, to die. These obedient churches show an aggregate decrease in membership of seventy-five; a falling off of $691.85 in contributions; a loss of $495.38 in financial resources, and of $400 in the value of property; and an increase of $50 in their debt since the previous year. After visiting five of these eight, we took an automobile and wandered up and down the fat land to see if there were more like them. Everywhere we came upon abandoned church buildings into which the people had crowded fifty years ago-rotting refuges for tramps, targets for the rifles of small boys, and rookeries for wild birds. In Iowa, the very richest State of all, they so encumber the land that the Legislature has passed a law for their disposal. Whenever we reached the just-alive ones on Sunday we were sure to hear the minister take the text in his teeth and start for the goal of eternity with it, incidentally scattering reproaches on his sparse congregation because it wasn't larger, as a rocket scatters sparks from its tail. And the people who listened to him were invariably the very old who had contracted the habit in early youth and the very young who couldn't help themselves. Now, so long as we ran rapidly and tried to read while in action these things seemed sufficient reason for saying that religion in the rural districts was in a bad way, and that something strenuous and sudden had got to be done about it if we were not to have an unchurched farming community. But as soon as we began to go loiteringly and look at something besides decaying wood and dropping plaster we found that the land was fairly cumbered with visible manifestations of the grace of God-"dry" towns everywhere, consolidated schools, thrift, and prosperity, with crime and pauperism reduced to a minimum. Were these people abandoned in wickedness? The first inkling of the truth came to us one Sunday when we drove eight miles to find a certain meeting-house, discovered it boarded up and abandoned, photographed it as a sad example of decaying religious life, and, driving on down the road just because the warm sun was pleasant and the wind from the clover fields was sweet, found the new meeting-place of that congregation with twenty automobiles at its gate, crowded carriage-sheds, and a great gathering praising God till the hills rang. And we had thought the abandoned cocoon of that church was evidence that it was dead! Charlotte Perkins Gilman pictures a butterfly as most dissatisfied with its metamorphosis: "I do not want to fly,' said he, I hate to be a butterfly, I want to be a worm."" |