I had an amber Speakeasy Prohibition Ale. One of my companions had an Abita Purple Haze cherry beer. The Very Rev. Gary Hall, dean of the Washington National Cathedral, had a diet Coke. Most of the 16 or so gathered around a table in the cellar of the Bier Baron Tavern were drinking beer and eating burgers and fries. The dress code? Well, never mind. Although Hall debated, he finally decided to wear his clerical collar.
It was, after all, Pub Theology night at Bier Baron on 22nd Street NW in D.C. Monday is Church of the Pilgrims Theology on Tap night, Tuesday is the open discussion Pub Theology and an event one Wednesday a month draws about 60 to 70 young people thirsting for answers.
Forget church, say a lot of the millennial SBNR (spiritual but not religious) crowd. Sitting around a table with a couple of pints with interesting people, discussing things that really matter, is a lot more fulfilling and edifying than the liturgy and the stuffy hymns. Hall, who is totally intrigued, is there to observe and learn and participate. He understands the problem. How to “bring ’em into the tent.”
The group leader distributed a list of six ideas “Trending for Tonight.” No. 5 brought out some interesting conversations (“The most important part of my religion is to play guitar” — Lou Reed. Can you relate?”). The ground rules were that regular participants cannot be quoted by name.
Hall responded to question No. 1 (“Name three things that will be obsolete in 10 years?”) by saying about the church, “institutions will be defined in another way. The issues that defined institutions are no longer issues.” He went on to say that the “nones” — those who say they have no religious affiliation — “have the same spiritual religious questions. I don’t think this is about believers or nonbelievers. People want to explore God in their lives but they look at the churches and synagogues and say, ‘This is not where I want to explore these issues.’ ”
Burns Strider, one of our companions, talked about sharing Shabbat dinner (the Jewish Friday night Sabbath dinner, and “how beautiful it was to see such a strong sense of family tradition. It’s what we can do collectively.”
“Without a community, my faith could go away,” said one young man. “I have a hard time separating the two.” He also attends church and enjoys the community there.
Why attend Pub Theology if you’re a regular churchgoer?
“Beer,” he said to knowing laughter around the table.
Another young man (Hall’s wife, Kathy, and I were the only women, but I was assured women regularly attend) talked about the difference between church and Pub Theology.
“In the coffee hour,” he said, “you don’t get into, ‘What’s going on with you?’ Because we can share so many things here, we can share our hearts. What’s great about a more relaxed setting is that you are comfortable being honest.”
Someone chimed in: “Young people in church are not being able to say ‘I’m struggling with my belief now.’ To have something like this you can kind of think and struggle. The younger generation has lost the ability in church to say I’m struggling with anything. They feel like they have to have the perfect persona in church.”
What’s the difference between Pub Theology and recovery programs, such as Alcoholics Anonymous?
“This is a lot more stimulating spiritually,” said one. “I needed to be excited about it again. This is not a new thing. People have been gathering in pubs for a long time.”
Though all of the participants were Christian except for one atheist this night, they say people from many faiths come as well. “You begin to see the humanity,” said one. “You find more community.”
“The early church was probably something more like this,” said Hall. “The question is, is it possible to have a transcendental experience and have different modes of spiritual practice? How can we make Sunday morning more like this?”
As for faith online, one person said he couldn’t deal with it. “You don’t have somebody insulting you here like they do online. Like Facebook with ‘likes’ and ‘don’t likes.’ ”
One person had recently been to a Buddhist retreat. “We spent most of the time walking and breathing and paying attention,” he said. “At the end of the day, I was going crazy. At the end of the week, I felt I had gotten my life back. If we don’t do things like that, we’re missing out on the human experience. It’s not a luxury item.”
The talk turns inevitably to human suffering. “This is where we get into theology,” says Hall. “Does God want a car crash?”
He says the God in the Bible is “a different character” than the God that Western civilization has constructed. “I believe God is personal but not necessarily omnipotent. Like, did he cause the Holocaust? Once during an earthquake in San Francisco, someone said, ‘God saved me’ and I said, ‘You mean God killed the other guys?’ ” He says non-omnipotence “makes it more relevant.”
Prayer comes up naturally. For Hall, “it’s a dialogue, a relationship. I try to empty myself. I hear what I get back.”
The story is told of one Jesuit saying to another, “I pray for an hour.”
“I wouldn’t know what to say for an hour,” says the other.
“I listen,” says the first.
“Meditation is really hard,” says Hall. “I have a monkey mind.”
Though he believes the monkey mind can be calmed with persistence, “the night before my wedding I tried to meditate and it just didn’t work for me.”
Pub Theology, for most of the participants, intentionally opens your spirit. “Whatever floats your boat,” says one. “Whatever connects you to the divine.”
“Over a beer and a list of questions,” says another, “it does inspire. And I’m not normally inspired.”
Don’t be surprised if Washington National Cathedral opens a pub in the near future.
