To be fair, the leaders of the Fellowship would bristle at the characterization of it as a “denomination”, considering their desire for a flat leadership structure.

Their website explicates their story:

The Fellowship of Presbyterians began in January 2011 as a conversation between seven PC(USA) pastors who wanted to find new ways to encourage each other in common faith, ministry, and mission. These pastors were concerned about the health of the PC(USA) as a denomination, where membership has dropped steadily over 40 years and ongoing disputes over theology and bureaucracy create a culture of contention more than vitality. They talked of reclaiming a covenanted biblical community, where unity is derived from a shared mission to make disciples of Jesus Christ, not from structural affiliation, and where young leaders are nurtured to speak the gospel into a rapidly-changing world. The pastors issued a nationwide call to others of like mind who envisioned a new future for congregations to connect and grow while sharing a Presbyterian, Reformed, Evangelical heritage.

Initially, I had very little interest in the Fellowship, especially considering it’s name. I couldn’t help thinking about it outside of the right wing Christian political group, known also as “The Family”, as infiltrated by Jeff Sharlet.

Once I got over that, however, I simply thought of the Fellowship as a reaction to 10-A, a recent national vote which allows ordaining bodies (churchy lingo for churches and groups of church in a given locale) to ordain openly gay and lesbian pastors, elders and deacons.

And frankly, though I’m more or less in agreement with the Fellowship’s stance, I couldn’t get excited about the time, energy, effort and money to trade one institutional framework for another, simply to communicate something I’m against. Throughout history, churches have divided over cultural and theological issues over and over and over – and I had no interest in being a part of another split.

Luckily, however, a friend, mentor and former supervisor of mine has stayed on top of the inner workings of the Fellowship, and is now serving on the board. He’s kept me updated on the ways in which the Fellowship is actually moving the conversation on what it means to be church forward, by decreasing the space between clergy and laity, emphasizing church planting and rethinking levels of education for ordination (where were they five years ago?!). In short, the Fellowship isn’t just a reaction to what’s happened in the past, it’s a movement for the future.

All that to say, I’m heading out to Orlando on Tuesday, as a sort of representative of our pastoral staff and church board. While I’m still a bit cautious of the idea that we need to spend time, energy, effort and money to earn God’s blessing to move forward, I am thankful to be a part of the conversation.

Indeed, there are two sides to every story. Or, in this case, YouTube video.

Chances are you’re one of the 9,487,981 (and counting) who’s seen the spoken word video “Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus” by Jefferson Bethke (aka bball1989).

His YouTube Channel features videos of Mark Driscoll and Acts 29 buddy Matt Chandler as well as a video response to Rob Bell’s Love Wins promo (wherein he steals most of Bell’s material but inserts his own theological perspective here and there, ultimately making his response less than coherent).

I first saw “Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus” on Wednesday, I think, when a number of my friends and coworkers shared it on The Facebook, praising it for it’s deconstruction of institutional Christianity, that, as bball1989 states, would rather build churches than feed the hungry. From this perspective, I can agree. And I’m convinced that John Caputo would be proud. Really.

So, yes, in Bethke’s formulation:

Jesus > Religion

Jesus is better than institutional faith. Or, as I recall it from elementary school math, the alligator mouth likes Jesus more than religion, which is a little weird now that I write it down. But you know what I mean, right?

On the other hand, however, Bethke ends up undermining his anti-religion project by arguing for a life lived wholeheartedly after Jesus. To offer an oversimplified response: That is religion. It’s how life is lived. This is why there was no word for religion until the 13th century, when life began to be fragmented between different spheres and a word had to be created to refer to one’s beliefs and pattern of life.

In this sense (which Bethke seems to misunderstand):

Jesus > Religion

“Wait,” you’re thinking, “that’s the same as above.” Yes, but this time, the greater than symbol is not only that, it’s an arrow. Jesus points to a better religion. Recall Jesus’ response to the religious scholars of his day, when asked about the greatest commandment:

‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments. (Matthew 22.37-40 NIV)

Yes, the religious scholars of Jesus’ day had some things wrong. But that doesn’t make Jesus’ response anti-religious. Quite the opposite.

Tony Jones hits the nail on the head (albeit in a rather snarky manner – but hey, I guess he’s earned it with a PhD from Princeton):

Religion is simply the social and psychological framework by which human beings organize their experience of the Divine…

It’s naïve to think that billions of people will experience the Divine, but they won’t try to organize and categorize that experience. We do, and we find that our experience overlaps with the experience of others. We join with those others, and we find patterns of speech, symbols, and behavior that help us articulate our experiences.

And it’s not bad that we do this. It is, Mr. Bethke, inevitable.