The changing of the flock

By ERIN ANDERSSEN, The Globe and Mail
July 22, 2002

A six-part series

Saturday: The pope we never knew Monday: The changing of the flock Tuesday: Worldly travel aids spiritual journey Wednesday: A journey of faith for the youth of the world Thursday: 'This event, it's for the young people' Saturday: The many faces of John Paul II

Rev. Joe Muldoon blesses the host with all the gravity the rite demands. But during the announcements, he turns jolly, teasing a mom near the front that yes, the new church chairs will arrive in time for her son's wedding.

The surburban congregation of Good Shepherd -- about 900 families and counting -- began life in a school gymnasium, and until recently, they were still sitting on orange plastic chairs. But they gave up the gym four years ago, for a sprawling new church of cream walls and big windows that face the forest across the street.

"We're in an enviable position, because we're growing," Father Muldoon says after the service. "People are looking for a sense of community, maybe a place of rest. And," he chuckles, "the church is air-conditioned."

Meanwhile, at Our Lady of La Vang on the other side of the city, a few kilometres west of downtown, the fans are humming at full speed. This church building is showing all of its 80 years, starting with the ornate statute of Jesus on the cross above the altar. But there is a drum set and keyboard where the organ used to be, and the worn wooden pews are packed with about 250 members of Ottawa's Vietnamese community

Just a year ago, the congregation here was French-Canadian, and fading fast. Now services are in Vietnamese, and about 400 families are active parishoners. Standing on the steps after mass, Le Son, a 36-year-old member of the church council, says proudly, "Now we have our own church." On weeknights, Rev. Pham Thong coaches Ping-Pong in the church basement. This week, the church is sending close to 50 young people to Toronto's World Youth Day.

This is Christianity's version of niche marketing. Today's believers often shop around for a Sunday service the same way they buy a car, and they want all the options, from easy parking to contemporary music. Today's churchgoers want religion to be flexible, but familiar. For the most part, sociologists say, they do not want the values of their church diluted. "They don't want to be a part only of the ritual," says Father Vito Marziliano, whose Epiphany of Our Lord church in Scarborough, Ont., boasts 2,300 families. "They want the message to reach their hearts."

These churches, suggests John Stackhouse, Jr., a prominent religious-studies professor at Regent College in Vancouver, are the two kinds currently luring and keeping young families: the ethnic church of Our Lady, and the contemporary, guitar-playing Good Shepherd. They're the ones who've decided, Prof. Stackhouse says, that "our theology and ethics haven't changed, but we're happy to try whatever it takes to articulate our message and get people's attention."

Recent studies suggest that observers, often focusing on the grand old inner-city cathedrals, jumped too quickly to the conclusion that churches were dying. In his recent book, Fragmented Gods, Lethbridge University sociologist Reginald Bibby suggests that the national numbers -- which put about 20 per cent of us in the pews on a Sunday morning -- have bottomed out.

Organized religion, he says, is due for a renaissance.

While elderly congregations dwindle, places like Our Lady of La Vang and Good Shepherd are pulling in the young families to replace them. Ask their members what they value in their church, and almost without exception they give the same answer: an instant sense of common community.

In the suburbs, where commuters don't always know their neighbours, and within a scattered ethnic group seeking a place to savour the roots, these two churches answer a call. "It's been a spiritual base for us," says Mary Beth McGowan, one of the choir soloists at Good Shepherd. "And it helps give our children a strong foundation."

"I never had any Vietnamese friends before I went to university," says Nguyen Ha, 29, who leads the senior choir at Our Lady. "I pretty much have a Canadian way of thinking about things, but I was missing something. I didn't see how important it was to [spend time] with someone who looks like me, talks like me. People here know where I am coming from."

The service at Our Lady is a blend of North American and Vietnamese tradition; they shake hands to share the peace like Canadians, but still sing the creed as in Vietnam. The younger people joke about their parents dictating church attendance, but they are also there to give their children a sense of their culture, and as Ms. Ha says, to preserve it also for themselves.

There is a strong focus on the youth, developed largely around Rev. Thong's Friday night Ping-Pong ministry. Nguyen Ha met her boyfriend at the church. She hopes to tell her grandchildren someday about being present for its inaugural service last year: "You only get that once in a lifetime."

East of Ottawa, wedged cleverly into a park-like setting on a main road between two thriving suburban communities, the modern, shining structure of Good Shepherd falls into the line of sight of every driver who passes. The church founders did it on purpose, of course, says Father Muldoon. After much lamenting over the historic centretown sites, the Roman Catholics are following the path cleared by their evangelical cousins in both the United States and Canada: Build big in the suburbs, where the flock lives.

"If companies recognized the need to park outlets in the suburbs, why on earth wouldn't churches do the same?" Prof. Bibby asks. "The demand will be there. The critical thing is to be in place. If they're sharp and just wait, the people will resurface."

In the United States, as families deserted downtowns and flooded city outskirts, churches set up as full-service community centres, with softball teams and after-school programs. "On the one hand, it's clever marketing," says Nancy Eisland, who studies the U.S. suburban church. "On the other hands it's fulfilling the mission, offering cultural solidarity and religious education."

In Toronto, suburban churches such as Rev. Marzilliano's Epiphany of Our Lord, are filled to bursting. In the Ottawa archdiocese, they've struck a committee to study where to "plant" next.

When priests like Rev. Muldoon describe their church environment, one of the first things they mention is their vibrant youth ministry. This, Prof. Bibby says, reflects a significant priority shift, but a necessary one. As he puts it, "the onus here isn't on the sheep."

Prof. Bibby's numbers say it all. Among adults who identity themselves as Roman Catholic but don't attend church, 56 per cent said they'd fill a pew if convinced it was worthwhile. When asked what would make it worthwhile, they focused on youth-oriented programs, suggesting a promising future for churches like Good Shepherd, busy with youth groups, spaghetti dinners and puppet shows.

The new chairs arrived at Good Shepherd early one Thursday morning this month. About 25 people showed up to unload them, in time for the special World Youth Day service on Sunday. When they were finished, they applauded, already thinking, says May Chan, one of the helpers, of the next fund-raising project. "It was a happy thing to do," she says. "We're just like one family. This is the house of our God. This is our house."