I enjoy occasionally taking my children to various churches to expose them to diverse religious experiences. Recently, our interfaith journey led us to two Episcopalian services that were both markedly similar yet clearly different: the service at a large, stately church in our area, the headquarters of one of the most prominent mainline Protestant denominations in the United States, and a lively gathering across the river at a more conservative group that splintered off from the mainline Protestant denomination.
At the former, known for its grand architecture and progressive stance on contemporary social issues, the congregation was dignified yet notably older. At the second location, a congregation buzzed with energy. Young families filled the pews, cutting-edge media accompanied a crisp, not missing-a-beat homily from a relatively young preacher.
If not obvious on the surface of these two services, hiding underneath are the scars from a painful ecclesiastical civil war that rent the denomination in two. As the larger denomination became more liberal on social and theological issues, the more conservative elements became nervous, and eventually split off to form a more conservative variation.
This scenario has played itself out a number of times: two denominations with the same historical roots start moving in different directions and drifting apart. For example, the United Methodist Church is currently undergoing a painful divorce over sexual and gender minority issues.
When a schism like this happens, the differing fates of the two denominations provide an interesting compare and contrast. Conventional wisdom would hold that the branch that is more self-consciously socially progressive would attract younger parishioners, while the more conservative group clinging to tradition would be more moribund. Yet matching our family’s experience of these two worship services, in many cases this is not what the available statistics suggest at all.
For example, the first year for which we have reliable data from the conservative-leaning Anglican Church of North America is 2013, which showed a Sunday attendance of about 64,000. The Episcopalian Church at this time had an attendance of 624,000, so at that point in time over a decade ago the more conservative splinter group was about one-tenth the size of the main church.
By 2022, the Anglican Church of North America’s Sunday attendance had risen to 71,000, which isn’t explosive growth, but is still in positive territory. By contrast, in 2022, Episcopalians’ attendance was 349,000, having cratered by nearly half during this time. Consequently, in the span of about a decade, the North American Anglican Church went from 10% to 20% of the size of the Episcopalian Church.
This divergence presents a curious irony: While the Episcopal Church has made significant strides to align with liberal sensibilities, it appears that more conservative splinter groups like the North American Anglican Church are attracting more people.
Nor is this pattern restricted to the Episcopalians. For example, other Mainline Protestant groups are experiencing drastic amounts of hemorrhaging even relative to other faith groups (even if they too are also experiencing declines). About 1.7 liberal mainline Protestants leave the faith for every one that joins it, while conversely, 1.2 Evangelical Protestants join the faith for every one that leaves it. If liberalization and changing doctrines to more closely align with faddish social sentiment make a religion more popular, we would expect to see these trends reversed.
We see this pattern in Catholicism too. The Traditional Latin Mass is an older form of the Catholic Mass that is conducted exclusively in Latin and has fewer accommodations to modern sensibilities. The ranks of the Catholic priests who are permitted to celebrate the Traditional Latin Mass is rapidly growing. A survey I helped conduct is showing that newly ordained Catholic priests are overwhelmingly conservative relative to their older, much more liberal counterparts, and in another recent survey of 3,500 priests, not a single one ordained since 2010 identifies as “very progressive.”
This same dynamic is even seen outside of Christianity. While Jewish children are currently 22% Orthodox, because Orthodox families have more children they will probably be a majority in the next 50 years.
Of course, growth is not everything, and growth rates should not be taken on their own as an indicator of who is “right.” There are many examples throughout sacred history of believers suffering scorn and isolation for moving in an inspired direction.
Despite theological differences, there are also bridges of generosity that span the divide across social perspectives. While enjoying the gorgeous landscaping and gardens surrounding the Episcopalian Church’s National Cathedral, I noticed that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to which I belong, contributed monetarily to a fountain area at the National Cathedral, a testament to the idea that the desire to worship and create sacred spaces transcends denominational boundaries — and that faithfulness and communion with the divine is something that should be encouraged, whether they have a rainbow flag in their window or not.
While I might see liberal Christianity’s decline as a natural outgrowth of various decisions they have made, I don’t relish these struggles — instead feeling a pang that something as beautiful as the Episcopalian faith is rapidly shrinking.
As I have pointed out previously, I have lived for years on the East Coast, where there are many churches (especially mainline ones) shuttered and converted to other uses (or sometimes just abandoned and rotting like an open sore). I always feel a sharp pang of morose depression when I pass by them.
However great it may be that the private school now using that location has super neat architecture, the fact is these earlier people sacrificed to build these structures as monuments to God, not monuments to Montessori. These used to be thriving communities full of life and vivacity, with thousands of personal memories and stories; where children once played, people spoke to God, young lovers flirted, and lifelong marriages were solemnized. And now their windows are shattered and their dusty halls are silent.
While almost all faiths are struggling in the increasingly secular 21st century, it seems clear that the “liberal” faiths are struggling more than others. The reasons why are complex, and it is impossible to fully address the debate here, but while some might think that making a religion popular with the cultural A-listers is the sure path to success, it is likely that churches that exhibit some tension with the background environment, that are distinctive enough for people to see something different in them, are the ones that thrive.
Some also argue that “strict churches are strong” — that churches that demand more from their adherents are stronger since it prevents free-riding. This also calls to mind the words from early Latter-day Saint Lectures on Faith that “a religion that does not require the sacrifice of all things never has power sufficient to produce the faith necessary unto life and salvation.”