'Reach the Nones wherever they are': How religious leaders are trying to stem the tide

It's a Sunday afternoon in Fort Worth, Texas, and a flock of young people wander into a bar to kick back a few beers, sway to live music and mingle.

And then, they recite the Lord's Prayer.

It's quite a departure from traditional services, which have driven so many away from church in recent years. There's no confession, no fire and brimstone, and nobody's wearing their Sunday best.

"It's casual and non-threatening," said the Rev. Kristin Klade, the 33-year-old pastor of the Kyrie Pub Church. The Lutheran congregation has met weekly in various bars for the past 12 years, most recently at Shaw's Patio Bar & Grill.

The out-of-the-box style aims to engage a generation that doesn't subscribe to the same religious conventions as their parents, many of whom spent their weekend mornings on wooden pews.

"We like the idea that a person walking down Magnolia Avenue might hear the music and walk into our service. Even the bar owner and some of the bartenders listen in and take Communion," Klade said.

As a growing number of Americans leave organized religion, clergy are trying an assortment of tricks and tactics to lure them back, even mixing booze and the Bible.

The Nones — demographer-speak for those who describe their religious identification as "nothing" or "none" — are among the fastest-growing elements in America's religious firmament. Nearly one in four identified as Nones (pronounced "nuns") in a landmark study published this summer by the nonprofit Public Religion Research Institute.

That matches the findings of numerous other public opinion surveys over the years, including a Gallup poll in March that found that fewer than half of American adults belonged to a house of worship, compared with 70% in 1999.

Leaders across regions and faiths are searching for a counter-strategy. In many ways, the future of American religion, set amid a secular culture that tends to marginalize worship, depends on their success.

Studies show the greatest erosion has been among younger generations, so clergy are increasingly seeking to connect with potential parishioners through unconventional means.

They're offering a worship more casual, more inclusive and less doctrinaire. They're seeking to tend to the more mundane needs of followers, offering job fairs, happy hours and volunteer opportunities designed to engage in a new way.

BRINGING BACK THE NONES

Experts say many young people who leave organized worship aren't necessarily anti-religion; they still seek spirituality. But they find traditional churches, mosques and temples stuffy and unwelcoming. They want environments that seem more relevant to their lives.

"Pastors need to think about the social aspect of religion just as much as the theological aspect," said Ryan Burge, a Baptist pastor who's also a political science professor at Eastern Illinois University. "They should invite the community to just come hang out and enjoy fellowship with people without worrying about being religious. They can have barbecues and potlucks. Over time, people will start to realize that they want to be a part of a community like this."

Across America, clergy are listening. They're setting up shop in coffeehouses, bars and parks, going online or offering in-person prayers with a nightclub vibe.

Today's young people want to "pick and choose what's meaningful to them, cafeteria-style," said Rabbi Stewart Vogel of Woodland Hills, California.

"We're looking at new ways for people to connect Jewishly," said Vogel, who leads the Rabbinical Assembly, an international association of Conservative rabbis. The goal is to reach those "who are otherwise disconnected from Jewish institutions but crave a sense of purpose and belonging."

One of those new ways is an app, OneTable, that matches Jewish hosts and guests looking to share the traditional Friday night Shabbat dinner — it's like Airbnb with a side of challah and potato kugel. The service so far has arranged more than a half-million dinners and makes the Sabbath more accessible to Jews looking for a tradition "that feels authentic," said Eva Laporte, OneTable's director of marketing and communications.

Muslim leaders are ramping up outreach as well: In New York, the Islamic Center of Long Island holds paint parties and basketball tournaments; in Teaneck, New Jersey, the local mosque offers taekwondo; the Islamic Center of Maine sponsors programs at schools, colleges and hospitals.

With surveys showing the Nones lean left politically, some are seeking to revive faith by taking more vocal stances on political and worldly issues.

"We need to reach the Nones wherever they are at — with a focus on social justice and climate," said Rabbi Joshua Hammerman of Temple Beth El in Stamford, Connecticut. He focuses "not on prayer alone but on prayer that leads to repair — of the world and of the soul."

His Conservative temple began a dialogue with a local African-American church in the wake of George Floyd's killing last year. The two congregations held several programs exploring the roots of racism.

The Rev. Robert Stagg, pastor of the Church of the Presentation, a Catholic congregation in Upper Saddle River, New Jersey, says his church regularly brings non-affiliated people through its doors. It held a huge "inclusion Mass" for LGBTQ parishioners and their families.

"We were overwhelmed by the number of people who showed up — probably around 500," he said. "The feeling in the room was electric. People felt comfortable that they were part of the church community."

The hope is that "it will carry over to them coming to Mass on a regular basis," he said. "I've already seen evidence of that."

SEARCHING FOR 'MORE MEANING'

Stagg, who has had to preside over dozens of COVID funerals in the past year, said he's seen a brush with mortality or family trauma trigger a change among the nonreligious.

"A lot of Nones, once their mom has cancer, once their dad loses his job, once they have a scare or a death threat, you'd be surprised how they turn and say `what's it all about?' And they search for more meaning in life than a jog in the park on Sunday morning."

His message to them: "We have a very temporary life, with a beginning, middle and end. But at the end of the day, we're all just here for a cup of coffee, and then where do we go? I think we're all going home to the Everlasting Life. ... I often ask people: Is it just the life that I can see or is there more?"

Other efforts target the more tangible needs of parishioners.

"I've been having conversations with my young people to see what their needs are," said the Rev. Preston Thompson Jr. of Ebenezer Baptist Church in Englewood, New Jersey. "I want to know what it's like to be 20-something years old in 2021."

The church runs programs to help local youth find jobs and gain financial independence. Thompson said young adults want to see a church involved in the broader community, "fighting for their civil rights, for their right to vote," and "against police brutality."

Rabbi Yosef Wilhelm and his wife, Devora, organized Holy Hour-Happy Hour at their Chabad center on the Upper East Side of Manhattan to attract millennials to Friday night services. The weekly event includes a soulful prayer service with a singalong, followed by a short Torah class and Kiddush, or blessing over the wine.

There are cocktails, hors d'oeuvres and an open bar.

Since Holy Hour-Happy Hour debuted in 2010, the Wilhelms have drawn 15,000 first-timers to their center. Many have returned for other religious events, said Rabbi Wilhelm, who co-directs Chabad's young professionals program with his wife.

Roberta Rosenthal Kwall, a DePaul University law professor and author of "Remix Judaism: Preserving Tradition in a Diverse World," argues that "gimmicks" like worshipping in a bar are not a sustainable answer to refilling the pews.

Religious leaders instead need to focus on celebrating their traditions "with consistency and emphasizing the joys of observance rather than the prohibitions," she said. "They need to show them that religion can provide a path and direction for life that people find meaningful."

BLESSINGS IN A BAR

Still, the concept of "blessings in a bar" is going strong at the Kyrie Pub Church, whose congregation has grown in recent years.

On a Sunday in mid-July, Klade offered her homily. "Reciting prayers is not what faith is about — faith is something to be lived here and now," she said.

Then the congregants lined up at the makeshift altar at the center of an outdoor patio and took Communion.

Worshipers, who seemed to come from all walks of life, nursed cocktails and beers throughout the one-hour service. No collection plate was passed around — donations are a turnoff for young people, the church has found — but tips for the musician were encouraged.

"We don't have a lot of rules, and it's low pressure," said Klade. "People who have been hurt by the church or were given a scary version of the church come here and feel accepted."

She hopes to "challenge the assumptions of what church is about. We need to reach out to folks who say `this is not for me,' " she said.

"We need to take church outside of the church walls if we are ever to reach people outside of church."

Deena Yellin covers religion for NorthJersey.com. For unlimited access to her work covering how the spiritual intersects with our daily lives, please subscribe or activate your digital account today.

Email: yellin@northjersey.com

Twitter: @deenayellin

This article originally appeared on NorthJersey.com: Blessings in a bar: How religious leaders are reaching out to Nones