Don’t Take Me to Church- How The Decline of American Religion Has Harmed Community Engagement and What We All Can Do About It

St. Bonaventure Catholic Church- Decades of scandal, secularization, and cultural shifts have seen organized religion relegated to the rear of culture, leading to a poorer civil society and a more polarized populace. (Image courtesy of Abandoned America and Matthew Christopher)

As American life has continued to change and evolve, one of the most dramatic, if underreported, shifts in its culture has been the decline of both religious belief as a whole and organized religion in particular. In the past decade, the number of Americans who claim that religion is an important part of their life has declined by 17 points, and rates of church attendance have similarly declined from 42 to 30 percent between 2000 and the present. 

While many social scientists and researchers have proposed theories and hypotheses to explain this decline, the fact that it has been occurring is beyond dispute. Similarly, believers and nonbelievers alike have argued over the moral conclusions of this decline, with some Christians claiming that decreasing rates of belief have left us morally impoverished and left to suffer in our sins. In contrast, atheists and skeptics have argued that the church's waning role in secular life represents a triumph of rationality and the modern, enlightened society of the 21st century.

Yet rather than debating the truth of religion, or the moral clarity that a life of god and church may or may not give you, there is another side to the decline in Americans’ religiosity, and that is how the emptying of churches has left our local communities less connected, less involved, and more politically polarized. 

Historically, one of the most important roles the church played was as a third place and a center for community life and activity. By third place, I mean spaces that serve a purpose beyond just living and working; places where people can congregate, and, as the University of Chicago put it, where “no one is obligated to be there and cost should not prevent people from attending. It is a place where we can interact with members of our community and even turn strangers into friends.” Through a church, individuals and families can meet their neighbors, make new friends, and pool their resources for common or community goals. And although churches are far from the only organizations that serve this function in common life (fraternities, unions, and social clubs do the same), for most Americans, throughout most of American history, churches were the primary vehicles of these community third places. 

Crucially, however, this decline in religiosity, as well as the decline in community membership and engagement that has accompanied it, has not coincided with any other system or third place rising in popularity to make up for the gap. Studies have shown that more than half of US adults feel that they are alone, left out, or lacking companionship, and the American Time Use Survey, conducted by the Bureau of Labor Statistics, has reported that only 30% of Americans leave time just to socialize on an average day, down nearly 10 percentage points over the past decade. Although other factors, such as increasing social media usage or more time spent at work, do contribute a great deal to these statistics, the simultaneous decline in church-going has certainly played its part. 

And beyond these personal effects on the feelings of isolation that an increasing number of Americans are experiencing, the effects on the communities they live in are just as severe. Church organizations long served as nuclei for local charity, giving, and mutual support networks. If a family’s house burned down, or if an elderly neighbor was sick, the church provided a means of coverage, almost like insurance, facilitating locals to come together and aid one another in times of need. From a more political perspective, churches also allowed local communities to organize and demand change from politicians. For example, much of the southern Civil Rights movement was driven by Black Baptist churches and church leaders, and famously, even Martin Luther King Jr. himself was a practicing minister. Although the political weight of the church has not always been used for good, it’s impossible to deny the church’s potential to drive change and do good.

Churches like the Clayborn Temple, in Memphis (pictured), were driving forces of organizing for positive change during the civil rights movement, acting as centers of community. (Image courtesy of the AFSCME and Ernest Withers)

Simply, the decline of the church has left local communities and neighborhoods fractured, isolated, and less capable than ever before of advocating for themselves both against outside pressure and for positive change. At the same time, other forms of civil society, such as the unions or social clubs mentioned earlier, but also neighborhood associations, hobby clubs, and activist groups, have, for the most part, failed to pick up the slack. If anything, these other organizations have seen similar, if less steep, declines in participation and membership. Trust in all institutions and organizations has declined, leaving Americans simply less engaged.

The most catastrophic effect of declining church-going in America is on our political culture. One of the most commonly cited reasons for Americans’ turn away from religion is the rightward shift in church ideology, exemplified by the increasingly outspoken role churches of all denominations have played in the culture war issues of the past 50 years, such as trans rights, gay marriage, and, most famously, access to abortion. But rather than acting as a cause of political polarization- and one that has led to decreasing attendance- the increasingly politicized nature of the church is instead the biggest symptom of declining churchgoing. 

The reason for this is that declines in church attendance simply predate the radicalization of churches. Liberals and college-educated Americans, accounting for all other factors, were both the first and the most prominent groups to abandon religion, leaving the average political leanings of congregations to shift further to the right. It should be no surprise, then, that the most historically liberal denominations, particularly mainline protestants like Episcopalians, have seen the most dramatic falls in attendance. However, once attendance began to decline and the remaining churchgoing population became more conservative, a vicious cycle was created, as increasingly conservative rhetoric pushed more moderates away from churches, leaving remaining congregations more conservative and, in turn, resulting in more extreme right-wing rhetoric. Over the past 50 years, this feedback loop, more than anything else, could be blamed for both declines in church attendance and increasing polarization in American politics.

The vicious cycle: A feedback loop within church communities has continued to push generations of moderate or liberal churchgoers away, while also making churches both more conservative and more politically active. (Owen Saunders)

Unfortunately, there is no clear path for stopping or reversing these trends. As mentioned earlier, many competing reasons and theories have attempted to explain the root causes of this decline, and, most likely, they’re all at least partially true. On a broader scale, declining religiosity has been a trend across the entire West for centuries, and no country or region has so far seen a reversal. Although some advocates of religion may insist that steps can and should be taken to reclaim and rebuild faith in America, the likely truth is that sources of community and civil organization will need to arise elsewhere.

The internet and its online communities are commonly looked upon as creating the third places of the future, but the reality of these environments is far from ideal. Even before examining the quantifiable effects of modern social media usage, it should be clear that most online spaces don’t even meet the requirements of being a third place, certainly not in the way churches and community organizations once did. This is due to the inherently segmented nature of online communities. Although the internet has a place for everyone, with every interest or hobby represented somewhere, the nature of algorithms and users self-selecting for communities that match them exactly has resulted in echo chambers of like-minded individuals, existing in entirely separate bubbles from one another. And although real-world third spaces can be far from perfect in creating mixtures of identity, they are still ideally capable of representing the mixtures of identity, opinion, and perspective inherent within a physical community. Furthermore, the sort of mutual aid and support that churches and other physical communities offer is yet to be replicated in digital spaces; while the work of platforms like GoFundMe is laudable, their charity efforts have also been far from the efforts that local, focused communities can provide.

There should be no question, then, that the types of third places and communities that churches offer are essential, and that the real, physical world is the only environment that can provide this. So the question remains, how can we create these spaces, ones that offer us community, connection, and a sense of belonging, if the old means of achieving them are rapidly receding, with no clear path back? 

The answer to that question isn’t simple, but it is local. No one says that they want less community, and no one wants to feel more alone, so if we want to find these places, it’s up to all of us to create them. The evidence shows that the state of our community spaces isn’t all doom and gloom, due to people coming together and working to build them. So create a book club with your friends, attend more events or workshops, learn a new hobby, and don’t be afraid to put yourself into spaces where you may not know everything or everyone. It may seem scary, it may seem useless, but all communities are built locally, by individuals, so choose to participate and choose to be a member of something that brings you together.