University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER 11
Quo Vadis:
Whither Liberal Protestantism?

We want now to consider what we think we have learned from this study and reflect on some possible policy implications. Others will have different interpretations and see different implications. If this book simply stimulates serious discussion about the future of liberal Protestantism, then the support and effort it embodies will be recompensed. The members of the Congregation will have opened their lives to public scrutiny in an extension of their ministry of reconciliation. If, on the other hand, this book serves only as a rally focus for those in agreement with us and an annoyance for those in disagreement, little will have been gained. We do not fear nor hide from the conflict this book may generate. We can see from this study, and in a broader sense from the turmoil of our society during the past decade, that conflict can be absolutely devastating to everyone involved or it can be an opportunity, a door to reconciliation, a challenge to move beyond the present to a future yet unknown but most certainly a little more human.

The Imperative of Planning

The first lesson of this study is the necessity of learning how to plan. The motives, as we understand them, of those responsible for creating the Congregation for Reconciliation were impeccable. Racism, poverty, and injustice are woven tightly into the fabric of our society. It is not enough to utter pious platitudes which acknowledge responsibility while doing nothing. Reconciliation

will come only when the price is paid. As individuals whose relationship to institutional faith is precarious, one foot in and one foot out, we echo the editorial writer of the Dayton Daily News, "Where, in God's name, are the churches?"

The churches of America are deeply implicated in the tragedies of our society, past and present. The time has passed, if ever there were an appropriate time, for self-flagellation. The hour is late to be seeking comfort in intentional morality. Where is the evidence that our good intentions are manifest in concrete programs which, by objective criteria, make a difference?

The Miami Presbytery moved, in a moment of great crisis, in a manner they believed responsible and responsive to the racial turmoil straining the seams of our nation. Possibly some on the planning committee now feel the Congregation met their intentions. But, unquestionably, none really foresaw what was to emerge from the experiment. If the product had indeed been anticipated, it is not likely that the necessary votes for authorization of the project would have been tallied. Once the creation began to take shape, however, it was too late to abort. So the National Missions Committee, the Presbytery, and local congregations learned to adjust. Indeed, most people even believed the experiment was creative and useful, if occasionally painful and embarrassing. That we share this conclusion does not alter the fact of unanticipated consequences, and hence the need for more careful planning.

Several conclusions seem inescapable. The opportunity to minister and educate creatively in member churches of the Miami Presbytery was missed. This is partially explained by a lack of consensus that this was the primary goal. But more importantly, the leaders failed to think through the hard questions of how to bring their creation to fruition in the desired manner. They ignored structural prerequisites. They probably hired the wrong man as pastor, if they desired to produce leadership for educating and interpreting racism to other churches. They designed a structure with almost no opportunity for recruiting active Presbyterian lay persons. They planned no channels for the constructive utilization of the potential resources of the experimental group by local pastors and congregations. And finally, they failed to foresee the inevitability of conflict, basically negative in consequence,

between the action-oriented experimental congregation and the local congregations footing the bill.

If we assume the formal list of goals drawn up by the National Missions Committee of the Miami Presbytery (see chapter 4) did not reflect the majority sentiment of its membership-that is, that these were consciously concocted to make the experiment palatable to Presbytery-then we must ask the question, Why were the leaders oblivious to the need for precisely the type of experiment they proposed? Why did they not see that the large majority of white Americans, including those in the pews of Presbyterian churches in Dayton, categorically repudiated the indictment of racism and their complicity in the perpetuation of the suffering of Blacks? Why did they not hear the voices of angry black leaders telling us to go home to our lily-white suburbs and churches?

These questions echo far beyond the membership of the Miami Presbytery's National Missions Committee; they haunt all of us who profess to care and yet do so little. These people, after all, did something. Indeed, they had quite an impact on the city of Dayton. But the mission committee deserves no laurels for serendipitous behavior. We must insist that doing something is not enough. This results in far more wasted time, energy, and resources, and even in occasional disasters, than we as a society can long afford. Leaders must understand what they are doing. They must come to appreciate the necessity of planning for desired results.

The lesson here reaches beyond church leaders engaged in programming to promote social justice. A much more fundamental issue is at stake. Churches, universities, governments, and even businesses too often assume an unobstructed path between the creation of a structure and the solution of a problem. Departments, committees, bureaus and the like, do not inherently produce desired goals. Structures demand structuring to achieve the results for which they are intended. Their goals must be clear. Their resources must be adequate. And there must be an infusion of the will and purpose of those responsible for their creation. With less than these preconditions, the results or consequences of new structures are likely to differ from their creators' intentions. In short, leadership needs always to ask, What are we trying to do? Are our resources adequate? Is the leadership right for the

task? What else is occurring in relevant cultural systems which might impede the accomplishment of our goals? How can we plan to meet the contingencies of unanticipated consequences to our programming?

Few new programs and organizations in our society take root in such careful planning. Thus, we are deluged with ineffective and encumbering government bureaucracies, irrelevant educational systems, alienating labor conditions, intransigent church groups, and so on. Charles Silberman, in his best-selling critique of American education, speaks powerfully to our problems:

Certainly, religious leaders could fit as neatly as educators in Silberman's statement. He then goes on to place these reflections in a broader cultural context:

It seems to us Silberman is saying we don't plan for the achievement of our objectives. Indeed, we don't even pause to recall our objectives. Peter Berger et al. would see this as a consequence of modernization and an increasingly complex technological social order. [3]

As a society we have failed to recognize and adjust to the reality of our complexity. We decry and fear our bigness. We perpetuate myths about the inevitable dehumanizing consequences of bureaucracy, technology, and planning. And in so doing, we become captives of our myths. But this is not inevitable human destiny.

We fashioned the myths. We can undo them and fashion new ones to serve rather than enslave us. And the churches can play an important role in planning this reconstruction of reality.

Footnotes

Opportunities Lost

A second critical lesson from the Dayton study pivots around the theme of opportunities lost. These do not lend themselves to ready questions of culpability. Rather, they involve many persons at many points missing opportunities which could have resulted in creative utilization of the experimental congregation's presence. Since it is obvious that different policy decisions at the onset would have resulted in a very different experiment, our discussion will consider only actions possible without radical alteration in the nature and membership composition of the Congregation.

When Richard Righter moved to Dayton, he personally visited all the Presbyterian pastors in the metropolitan area. He deliberately did not ask for referrals from their congregations. Thus, this contact was not threatening; he didn't attempt to raid their membership rolls. He sought only to establish his presence in the city, become acquainted, and indicate his openness to cooperative ventures at some later date.

Early in 1969, only a few months after the first organizational meetings, participants in the experimental group established a list of priority issues for study and action. Righter then wrote all the Presbyterian pastors in the city to inform them of the newly formed study groups and invite them and their lay people to join the Congregation for Reconciliation in this endeavor. (Recall that, at this point, study groups and action groups were clearly differentiated.) Righter failed to receive even a single acknowledgment of his letter, much less an inquiry about participation. The evidence from our interviews would suggest that few congregations were even informed of the study projects.

Within six months of arriving in Dayton, Righter had twice contacted every Presbyterian pastor in the city. His willingness, indeed desire, to establish working relationships with other pastors and congregations should have been clear. The interest was not mutual, however. Apparently, conservative pastors wanted nothing to do with the Congregation for Reconciliation,

and liberal pastors feared losing members from their own congregations. Thus, except for the congregation which initially provided space to the experimental group for secretarial work, no ties developed. And this congregation later asked the mission to leave because of opposition to their social-action tactics.

The only contact initiated by other pastors or congregations has been a few invitations for Righter to preach or speak to some church group. During his first year, Righter received three invitations to preach and half a dozen opportunities to address couples' or women's groups. The former provided no context to interpret the Congregation's activities, and the latter were typically small audiences. This level of contact remained fairly constant for the first three years but has declined somewhat since, even though it now includes both Presbyterian and United Church of Christ congregations.

The contact with United Church of Christ congregations has been somewhat less than with Presbyterian ones. Early publicity about the Congregation identified it as a Presbyterian group; some UCC pastors, at least, are quite content with that image. One of our questions to pastors was whether they had received any flak from laity because of the Congregation for Reconciliation's activities. One pastor responded bluntly, "Oh, no. My people don't even know they are affiliated with the United Church of Christ. And if I have anything to do with it, they won't find out." Several other pastors also expressed the view that most of their members were unaware of the union status of the Congregation.

At no point has a governing body of a congregation of either denomination invited Righter or a member of his group to engage in dialogue or interpretation of their life-style. The limited contacts with governing bodies have been precipitated by the Congregation for Reconciliation.

We emphasize here that opportunities for interaction and interpretation of the Congregation's life-style were exploited far less effectively than might have been. Many pastors seem quite consciously to have avoided the opportunity. Furthermore, in this context, the kind of presentation of self and impression Righter makes in talking to groups merits recalling. Lay persons and pastors alike told us they were both surprised and impressed. They came prepared for a confrontation with a belligerent radical,

not a personally demure, soft-spoken, carefully reasoned pastor articulating a well-grounded theological rationale.

Why, then, did Righter receive so few opportunities to interpret his ministry to other groups? This, of course, necessitates conjecture on our part. Many pastors probably hesitated out of timidity and fear of opposition from conservative lay persons. But also, many probably never even considered that this might be an effective means of broaching issues they themselves had difficulty raising with their congregations.

None of these speaking engagements led to any kind of systematic follow-up, such as an invitation for Righter to return to lead a series of group discussions on a particular topic, an exploration of how interested lay persons in other congregations could develop "less radical" supportive actions, or the formation of study groups. In short, these were one-shot exposures. The opportunity to stimulate discussion and study groups was ignored.

Similarly, our interviews with Dayton pastors revealed that few ever attempted to interpret the controversial activities of the Congregation for Reconciliation. This would have required no direct contact with the Congregation. But ignoring them, pretending they didn't exist, although they were an obvious source of irritation to many Presbyterians in the community, meant missing many opportunities for constructive dialogue. Numerous approaches might have been taken. For example, pastors might have encouraged examination of the issues without considering the tactics of the Congregation. Are their concerns legitimate concerns for people who call themselves Christians? If so, how can Christians make their influence felt? What is the proper stance of the corporate body of the church on social issues? How might we deal reasonably and creatively with the undeniable reality that Christians don't agree on the issue of corporate responsibility? Or pastors might have encouraged careful study of the Congregation for Reconciliation. Are they misguided idealists? Are there theological rationales for their actions? What are the official policies of our denomination on these issues? Such explorations would have generated some tension, but, if skillfully handled, the results could have been positive and creative nonetheless. The very presence of the vigorously active Congregation in the city

would have made such essentially educational ministries far more palatable.

The failure of Dayton pastors to utilize the presence of the Congregation for Reconciliation to explore social issues reflects both timidity and the neglect of an opportunity. But our interviews also indicate it suggests the absence of skills to deal with the issues. A great proportion of clergy lack at least two important skills. The first is the ability to deal with any kind of controversial issue. Many pastors simply don't know how to talk about touchy topics. Hence, they tend to confine their views to private conversations among lay persons with whom they sense agreement. Second, many pastors are unable to deal authoritatively with social issues in a group discussion; they lack sufficient information to be a resource person, to present substantive materials on an issue, to defend their own views, or to challenge viewpoints not grounded in fact. Bluntly" stated, many are barnyard liberals with neither the skill nor the knowledge to be effective educators.

Many readily acknowledge and decry this. Why, then, do they structure their lives to perpetuate these deficiencies in skill and knowledge which they would like to have and which they believe would bolster their effectiveness in dealing with social issues? In this light, the Congregation for Reconciliation could have served at least two functions. On the one hand, it could have provided a resource in the development of skills in researching social problems and, on the other, it could have been a ready stimulus for underscoring the need for self-study and mutual support in expanding the talents of local clergy.

For five years the Congregation for Reconciliation has manifested religious concern for a wide range of social issues. For five years it has stood as a challenge to other Dayton pastors and congregations to explore possibilities for relating to and becoming involved in the problems of Dayton and our society. The range of potential responses has been limited only by the imagination and the will to act. But in Dayton, not unlike many other communities in America, both imagination and will have lain dormant`. Local pastors have either not seen the opportunities offered by the Congregation for Reconciliation or they have lacked the will to take any initiative. They never attempted structures to bring

clergy together for discussing specific ways of utilizing either the presence or the resources of the Congregation to educate their lay people or themselves.

There were, of course, other possibilities. But there were also other problems. Presbyterian executives faced structural impediments to their assuming initiative. The Synod mission staff resided in another city. This did not preclude their taking initial action, but it did present organizational difficulties. Again, with the Stated Clerk (executive officer) of the Presbytery, we encounter structural difficulties. From the moment the image of the Congregation took shape, his was a delicate position. Some pastors and lay persons would have opted to squelch the Congregation early in its life, had the Stated Clerk not skillfully provided a protective shield and insulation from hostile criticism in the ecclesiastical environment and thus aided the chances of the Congregation's survival. Had he played a vigorous role in promoting the Congregation and encouraging Congregation related activities, his credibility as a sober and responsible church executive might have been seriously threatened. Not that his structural position denied promotion of any Congregation-related activities, but the role was risky and he chose not to gamble. Had other pastors contacted him and requested assistance in promoting some program, his position to take initiatives would have been much more secure.

Further initiative might also have come from Righter and the Congregation. Righter made some effort, but the Congregation members themselves, it must be remembered, were largely persons who felt indifference or alienation regarding other churches. They didn't want to spend their energies on white middle-class congregations or pastors and weren't going to encourage Righter in that direction, either. In their defense, though, it might be said that the Presbytery members initiated the experiment and thus probably carried a larger responsibility to watch over their brainchild than vice versa. The newsletter-bulletin circulated by the Cincinnati congregation proved an effective means of communication and interpretation there. Righter certainly knew of the Cincinnati newsletter, but the Dayton group, though it has continuously sent its monthly mailing to all UCC and UPUSA congregations in the Dayton area, made no special

effort to tailor this contact as a reconciling force. Had Dayton pastors encouraged any interaction and dialogue, this might have become a viable form of communication.

To consider what might have been is to engage in fantasy. Exploring lost opportunities, we are like Alice roaming the great hall but finding all the doors locked. There is a garden full of surprises beyond the locked doors; Dayton clergy and laity, however, couldn't swallow their timidity and rationalizations long enough to squeeze through the little door and bring their churches into the daylight beyond.

Models and Strategies for Social Action:
Pondering the Future

In examining the congregation for Reconciliation, it seems clear that their activities could not have been easily carried out as a social-action committee within a larger congregation. The role of the pastor as researcher, strategist, and promoter of commitment and group solidarity has been critical. It has been a full-time job. An assistant pastor in a large congregation would almost certainly have found himself under fire. Even the most sympathetic and skillful senior pastor would have had difficulty sheltering this type of group from the wrath of conservative lay people.

On a lesser scale, however, educational and facilitating ministries could be organized within other congregations. The model, of course, would vary depending on the size of the congregation and the cadre of concerned lay people. In larger congregations, a model might resemble the Cincinnati experiment. There is no easy blueprint for this, but certain imperatives do seem evident. First is a sympathetic and skillful senior pastor who will encourage and facilitate, while running interpretive interference with conservative laity. Second is an assistant pastor knowledgeable and political enough to defend the legitimacy and credibility of the group, while heading off abrasive activities and statements by the members. Precarious business, to be sure, but a worthy challenge.

Such ecclesiola en ecclesia approaches might eventually develop into action congregations. Governing bodies, not unlike the Miami Presbytery, would have difficulty denying official congregational status. At the same time, efforts toward independence need

be charted cautiously. Without first achieving sufficient size and commitment for self-sustenance, autonomy would spell early death.

Let us turn now to the question of the prospects for creating congregations modeled after the Dayton experiment. Our admiration for their accomplishments is tempered by the realization of the conservative tide sweeping through liberal Protestant denominations. We see little hope for a rapid ebb, and thus church leaders face severe restraints in experimenting. To deliberately maneuver to create congregations modeled after the Dayton experiment with denominational funds is to invite discord and reprisal, not reconciliation. Some church governing units might birth and support experimental congregations of this nature without suffering serious retaliation, but their number is few.

Abandonment of the Dayton model would be an equally foolish move. Rather, church leaders need to open ways outside normal denominational funding structures to offer such groups life. We do not suggest clandestine laundering of monies through the National Council of Churches, but rather seeking new sources of support. Some few foundations and philanthropists in America are dedicated to promoting progressive social change. Similarly, there is the possibility of tapping private contributions from progressive well-to-do lay persons. Contributions of $5,000 to $7,000 per year for three or four years from two or three lay persons could launch a Dayton-type venture. Further, a potential pastor's professionally trained wife might subsidize a social-action congregation by assuming the task of family financial support. Outside the church, at least, our society is witnessing some families with women in this role.

The reluctance of the Miami Presbytery to either sanction the Congregation for Reconciliation or deny it permanent status probably forecasts the prospects of other governing bodies' accepting social-action congregations. That this type of group maintain independence from denomination monies becomes critical. We base this analysis on three assumptions. First, the dominant mood among lay people is vehement opposition to social action, especially confrontation-type action, by the churches. Second, church resources expended in opposition to this mood

will bring even more serious reprisals than in the late 1960s. And third, such dissension will contribute nothing to the cause.

We believe our assumptions are sound. They are, nonetheless, assumptions and, as such, open to challenge. While we would place our bets on the validity of the first two conjectures, data to support or refute are simply not available. We believe, however, that most of the data available do point to these conclusions. How to assemble adequate data for definite answers ought to be a high priority of church leaders interested in promoting active church participation in social action.

Our third assumption is a conservative sociological bias. We see institutions as terribly precarious structures men create to accomplish goals and transmit and sustain ideologies. While we decry the personalists who would tailor religion into a purely private or group affair sans corporate responsibilities, we also shudder at the prospects of unwitting activists unraveling liberal Protestantism. Our "middle-of-the-road" posture thus expresses not only a conclusion as to how Protestant leaders ought to maximize their effectiveness but also our theoretical understanding of the social order. Groups like the Congregation for Reconciliation can stimulate change in their communities. They can also be much more effective than the Dayton group in stimulating change within the churches. But the challenge is still one of planning and structuring to limit repercussions.

We will return to this in a moment. Let us first consider further the possibility that our first two assumptions are either wrong or out of focus, and thus our vision clouded. We see conservatism widespread throughout liberal Protestant congregations. Assume, though, that any denomination embodies a sizable number of congregations with a majority of members concerned more with social change, the quality of human life, and a just social order than with personal financial gain and comfort. If this should be the case and it is possible to identify these congregations, then very different strategy options might emerge. Alone they are too small to fight the conservative tide of the denomination. Together they could explore ways of asserting their will. One prospect might parallel the present struggle within the conservative Lutheran Church, Missouri Synod. As we write, moderates, with their backs pushed to the wall by arch-fundamentalist President

Jacob A. O. Preus, are exploring means of splitting into a separate denomination. This conceivably could be a viable option for action-oriented Christians in liberal Protestantism. It is an idea far more sensible than trying to push a denomination further than its members prefer to go. Even assuming the possibility of activists permanently gaining the upper hand in a liberal denomination, the loss of membership coupled with outstanding property mortgages would be likely to leave them either bankrupt or so preoccupied for years with fiscal matters and litigations that they wouldn't have time, money, or staff to concern themselves with social issues.

To repeat, we view developments along this line as problematic. They fall outside the parameters of our own value presuppositions. Those who must shape the future of liberal Protestantism, however, are not bound by our presuppositions. They are bound by what is structurally and ideologically true. And our central argument is that to change structures and ideologies requires maximum utilization of factual knowledge, theory, imagination, and will. To expect the pieces to fit together with anything less is to leave too much to providence.

Conclusion: A Challenge

During the 1960s liberal church leaders marched gallantly but haphazardly into the political arena. They got caught in a lot of crossfire. For the most part, they have since retreated. Many, like Kelley, now believe the move was ill-conceived or inappropriate from the beginning. This we cannot affirm. But to return and be effective in the ongoing struggle for human justice, the churches must learn from their experiences of the sixties. To us, two points seem paramount.

First, there exist inexorable boundaries beyond which the leaders of voluntary organizations dare not move without the consent of their constituencies. Liberal Protestant leaders drew dangerously close to violating those limits. Second, in doing so, they discovered the next great frontier, the organized church itself. This territory looms even more difficult to tame, for Pogo is right. The challenge, as we see it, is not to make raving radicals of those who prefer to sit in comfortable pews. Rather, the task is to

communicate to them the structural and ideological bases of our continuing cultural turmoil, to convince them that intentional morality is not enough, and, beyond this, to help them develop the faith and courage to participate in the creation of a new social order. Even if the churches can do no more than break down the resistance to change, it will have done a great deal.

It is, of course, easier to suggest that church leaders ought to concentrate on the task of helping their constituencies to understand the social chaos in which we live than it is to face the job. How can we and others be shaped to meet these demands? Most of us lack the spiritual commitment, the psychic strength, and the intellectual competence to muster ourselves to the battles we know must be waged. Deep down inside, we all hear whispers of what our agenda ought really to be. In our soberest, most intimate moments with the self, we know. But mostly we don't dwell so deep in consciousness; how could it be otherwise? The gross discrepancies between our real and ideal selves would shatter the ablest personality were it not for the human dynamics for coping with tensions and conflict. Social psychologists have known this and have described well the mechanisms we employ to temper dissonance.

Often we deny the validity of our own feelings and convince ourselves that an overly vivid imagination is casting shadows larger than our real experience of awareness. Or else we deny the realities we had focused on and offer ourselves excuses of exaggeration or misinterpretation of data. Further, we may choose simply to avoid the "bad news" of information which would reinforce our inner perceptions, or even seek counter evidence as consolation. Sometimes we look to "authorities" to tell us everything is fine: I'm OK, you're OK, and the world's going to be all right too.

Then, of course, by minimizing our own capabilities and viewing problems from a guppy-in-the-ocean perspective, we can offer ourselves another escape. Or else we can rationalize our activities as somehow being relevant to the problem-solving we ought to be about and avoid our own indictments of stopgapping and wheel-spinning. Finally, naturally, in our world of busyness we can manage not to schedule the moments of intense reflection when we might hear an echo inside suggest another road, a

different map to lead us to what we really feel is important and worthy.

Now, certainly, all this is human, very human, very understandable-but not necessarily immutable. To take seriously the challenge of today's world is to engage in a most threatening enterprise. The awesomeness of the problems, the dangers of failure, the intensity of needed commitment; the time, the energy, the drudgery-frightening prospects.

The world needs the church and its moral leadership to push, pull, and shove us deep inside ourselves and then out to the front. But the church cannot serve the world in this way until it resolves to carry out its mission to mankind, sans rationalizations and procrastinations. To do this it must put its own house in order and realistically appraise its objective conditions. There are at least three interrelated priorities on which church leaders must focus their attention. First of all, the credibility of the church as a sober and wise spokesman on important moral issues badly needs strengthening. The past has simultaneously witnessed too much reticence from some and unrestrained vigor and rhetoric from others within main-line leadership concerning important moral questions. Contradictory claims to divine wisdom on moral issues will continue. But skill, restraint in selecting issues, and strategic planning to neutralize conflicting claims can revitalize the image of the church as a focal point of moral wisdom.

The second priority must be the reversal of the growing gap between clergy and laity before church leaders find themselves standing alone, an island between two masses of laity, rather than serving as a bridge uniting for a better world. To consider the problem inevitable and insoluble is dangerous nonsense. Both laity who hold tight to orthodoxy and see their pastor as an apocalyptic anti-Christ and those who feel all or most clergy are hopeless refugees from sixteenth-century molds, lost and helpless amid the sophisticated dilemmas of the modern world, must be reached.

The former challenge religious leadership to creative endeavors to work with and bring them along in the creation of a new moral order. Preaching at them will solve nothing, and since they are theologically orthodox they are unlikely to drop out but likely instead to face and fight innovation. In the 1960s, they fought through closing their wallets, and the pain was indeed felt, since

this group tends to include a large proportion of the more affluent. Alternatives are few: they must be brought to new expectations of what precisely the church is all about. Though change-oriented clergy shun this task as not central to their endeavors, there can be little doubt that success here would ensure far greater effectiveness for the church in broader society.

Moreover, while church leaders ignore this problem, two very real dangers loom in the background. First, in what might be a rather simple coup, change-resisters might collectively use their resources to purge the church of innovative personnel. Second, and probably even more dangerous, lies the possibility of a massive defection from main-line religion smack into the waiting and welcoming tentacles of conservative religious groups with strong, right-wing, parapolitical leanings. This would deplete already scarce financial resources while swelling the ranks of a political alliance to neutralize, or perhaps overbalance, main-line Protestantism's efforts to effect social change. The forces of resistance would thus have won a major battle in defining the allegiance of God himself.

In addition to working with and winning over change-resisters, the churches need to pour energy into efforts to channel the talents of those who desire social change but lack the structure to make best use of their potential. In some instances this will mean reversing the churches' image for persons who have already abandoned their religious affiliation in frustration. They need new hope or, better, evidence that the church is addressing itself to today's world. America abounds in people willing to give and to work, people not yet convinced that the ideals they hold for humanity are unattainable. If the churches will, there is a natural resource waiting to be tapped, from sea to shining sea.

These tasks cannot be underestimated in either their difficulty or their importance. And the third priority is no simpler. The churches must develop a disciplined organization of highly skilled, change-oriented leaders. Although the decentralized organizational structure of the churches presents severe difficulties for controlling input once professional roles are assumed, numerous possibilities for improving recruitment, training, and socialization await exploration. Clearly, most seminaries will require extensive curriculum revisions to prepare students in solid social theory and

analysis of the political, economic, and social institutions of society. Practical politics of parish survival demand attention: the nitty-gritty how-to's for analyzing power, spotting change-seekers, tempering resistance, selecting personnel, augmenting ideas. If the churches are going to have the kind of leadership they need to effect change ten, twenty, or thirty years from now, courses in social theory and basic survival in the stained glass jungle must be given more than a token place in theological training programs.

Further, and equally urgent, is the demand for much stronger support mechanisms for clergy. Though Protestantism, as yet, faces less of a dropout crisis than does Catholicism, the problems of morale and mobility are obvious. As Edgar Mills and his associates have described it, there are too few good jobs, archaic mechanisms for placing men in the most suitable situations, conflicting role expectations, and a variety of other problems which erode commitment and breed sinking morale. [4] Mechanisms of ongoing education and psychic support are urgently needed. If clergy should be expected to avoid hopping on bandwagons and proclaiming jubilation in Jesus-freak and other movements deleterious to the liberal Protestant goals of justice and brotherhood, they need assistance.

When the road gets rough, ministers too need outlets for their frustrations and reinforcement of their commitment. They too need to have the reassurance of their peers trudging along beside them that it's all really worth it. Our own studies, however, indicate that little of this currently exists. Most denominations lack the resources and vision to create these mechanisms; most ministerial alliances, presbyteries, judicatories, and the like do not function in this way.

In all probability, if this need is to be met, it will have to come as a grass-roots movement. We know turned-on children are more effective in educating one another than highly trained professional teachers. We know people who have shared a common problem are more effective in helping one another than are outsiders. Why then shouldn't cadres of clergy join together in trust and commitment to help one another cope with the jobs to be done? For the present moment, at least, solutions are unlikely to come from on high. If, then, church bureaucracies cannot provide,

clergy must follow the design of our founding fathers, who never expected much from their government, and do it themselves. Organize. Divide labor. Create reciprocal expectations. Utilize community resources. Build psychic support. Develop the collective strength to purge defense mechanisms and rationalizations, and get on with the work.

Footnotes