What is the connection between any given town and the churches inside its city limits? It’s not a question many people think about, I imagine, but it’s one that’s been on my plate a long time.
When the first studies began on the
connection between the size of farms, the degree of local farm ownership, and
the kinds of towns that grew in their midst, the numbers of churches in those
towns were one of the measures of community health. For example, in the two-town study I know
best, which compared small-farm Dinuba to large-farm Arvin in Kern County, the
number of churches in Dinuba were twice what they were in Arvin, even though
the two towns were the same size in population and their surrounding farms
produced equivalent gross dollars of ag production. This difference was seen as just one of the
ways Dinuba was a healthier, more viable place to live than Arvin.
The first Arvin-Dinuba study was
conducted in the early 1940’s, just before the U.S. entered World War II. I updated the study in the early 1980’s, and
Dinuba still had twice as many churches as Arvin. These churches were seen as an indicator of
Community, of the populations’ abilities to invest in their communities and
build social relations with each other that would have positive effects on
other areas of life in these towns.
Since the 1980’s, the crash of
churches nationwide has become its own phenomenon, its own dilemma. I believe it started first in the large
cities, as church-going populations evacuated urban cores for the more-pleasant
suburbs, where community life became more secular and disconnected from the
whole notion of Place. I believe the
crash of churches in rural areas was slower, though I haven’t investigated it
thoroughly. But when I hear it discussed
in religious circles, the connection to our nation’s burgeoning placelessness
is never mentioned.
The question for me now is this: as
the farms get bigger and the owners more absent, is there any possible role for
the churches to become active participants, a voice and a set of hands, in
keeping the community values of a town available to the residents, whoever they
may be?
We have seen churches step up to the
plate in emergencies, like the 1990 Freeze, where churches responded with aid
in food and clothing, setting up job centers and utility bill funds, supporting
aid agencies. We saw the same in other
freeze events, as well as the recent drought.
Some churches have annual non-emergency programs, such as the backpack project
at Lindsay’s United Methodist Church, which provides backpacks loaded with
school supplies in September to kids without, which was joined by other
churches in town.
But the voice of the church is
largely silent, especially here, about the loss of the farms and the farm
families who lived on them, who put their earnings into the collection plates
and their children in the Sunday schools, who came faithfully every week to
worship. It is silent on the question of
immigration and the policies of this administration that are terrorizing our
new neighbors living in the houses vacated by the white folks who left for
better digs elsewhere. It is blinking at
the whole prospect of development of prime ag land into massive subdivisions to
house more placeless people. It is
blind, deaf and dumb to what is going on all around us.
What is the connection between
church and town? I’m sorry, but I’m
beginning to think it’s been lost.
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Trudy
Wischemann is a small-town resident who writes, regardless. You can send her your thoughts c/o P.O. Box
1374, Lindsay CA 93247 or leave a
comment below.
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