G. Jeffrey MacDonald

Author, Thieves in the Temple: The Christian Church and the Selling of the American Soul

(May 2010)

Interview by Adam McKibbin

For some, the rise of megachurches in recent years has been proof positive that the Christian faith is alive and well in America. But while the sheer number of active worshippers may be boosted dramatically by tricked-out suburban megachurches where you can sip Starbucks (brewed in-house) while listening to a hip young pastor tell you that Jesus wants to put more money in your bank account, G. Jeffrey MacDonald argues that the consumerist shift within the Church has warped its mission - and may be threatening its future.

In his challenging and at times fiery new book Thieves in the Temple, MacDonald - a veteran reporter for TIME and Christian Science Monitor, among others - makes the case that churches need to return to a mission of improving the character of their congregations, even at the risk of alienating members who are seeking an easy path to a clean slate (or a quick way to make a buck, or just a cool place to hang out).

Surely we're all guilty of occasionally seeking out books and press that tell us what we already think. While my own views on religion and morality are partially summed up by Patton Oswalt's "Sky Cake" bit (NSFW), Thieves in the Temple should be of interest not just to religious people but also to atheists with an interest in religion and its recent evolution in America.

MacDonald recently took the time to answer questions about consumer culture within the Church, the intersection of faith and politics, the prosperity gospel, the Catholic Church scandal, and much more.

Among the parts of Thieves in the Temple that I found most compelling were your personal anecdotes of struggling to find a congregation that connected with your vision for the Church.  How much did your own professional experience as an ordained minister spark your thesis – and convince you that this was an issue someone needed to address?

As a newly ordained pastor, I was surprised and dismayed by the ego-centric, consumerist approach to religion that I found to be rife in my congregation. When fellow pastors confided similar concerns about their own congregations, I began to wonder whether this “please me” approach to faith was in fact taking hold in churches across the country. What I found in my news reporting suggested that it was. I then asked the deeper question: can churches, including my own, shape people for the better if they’re constantly pressured to affirm and please people just as they are? I hypothesized no: churches fail to shape character when they serve up, in ordinary business fashion, the entertainment and therapy that churchgoers increasingly demand. My research, sadly and unequivocally, confirmed my hypothesis. This phenomenon has huge implications for American society, but no one else is telling the story. That’s why I wrote the book.

When do you feel this consumerist shift began within the Church? 

While America has had a dynamic religious marketplace for centuries, this consumerist shift began after World War II and became pronounced in the 1960s. At that time, Americans in significant numbers began dabbling in Eastern religions and otherwise individualizing their spiritual paths according to personal preferences. Within two decades, this sensibility had become so prevalent that it was common even among conservative evangelicals, who demanded that their churches affirm their lifestyles and politics – or else they’d go worship elsewhere.

You acknowledge some of the times in the past when the Church in America has not exactly been a moral giant, but yet there’s clearly a sense that there used to be a clearer and more unified sense of purpose.  When do you think the Church in America was at its best?

The Church has never fully lived up to its calling, and there was no perfect golden age. But the Church’s finest hour in America was arguably during the first half of the 19th century. Believing that Christ’s return was imminent, American Christians acted with urgency to compel one another to live well in moral terms.  From this milieu came temperance societies, orphanages, schools on the frontier and abolitionist movements. To be sure, churchgoers and church leaders defended lesser causes, too, as debate simmered about what was moral and what was not. But Americans made great strides in this age in which many availed themselves to the moral suasion of their neighbors.

You clearly don’t subscribe to the prosperity gospel, which is antithetical to essentially everything you promote in Thieves.  And yet I have to imagine you recoil a little from cover stories like The Atlantic’s “Did Christianity Cause The Crash?” – in which Hanna Rosin makes the case that the prosperity gospel “pumped air into the housing bubble.”   Do you think it’s a fair case?

Yes, Ms. Rosin’s report resonated with what I’ve observed. Churches are doing their people a disservice when they pander to lowest desires, including hunger to live a lifestyle far beyond one’s means. Scripture encourages people of faith to learn habits of contentment so that restlessness and greed don’t take root in their souls and give rise to various types of evil. But the ‘prosperity gospel’ churches too often pander to these low desires for material excess. They end up blessing unsustainable lifestyles that lead ironically to despair. 

I don’t think the average reader (myself included) really understands the pressure that ministers are under to boost membership and raise money.  Am I correct in saying that seems to be a constant in the churches you visited, whether mega-church or tiny church?  Can you explain a little about where this pressure originates?

Yes, these are constant pressures. Sometimes churches cloak them in the theological rationale of Matthew 28, which says the faithful should go unto all nations baptizing and making disciples. Churches too often wrongly equate progress on these fronts with mere institutional growth. In these instances, churches aren’t making true disciples, but are instead just growing their institutions according to the same shallow benchmarks used by theaters and professional sports franchises. Another contributing factor is the inherent need for churches in America to be self-supporting, since they can’t rely - as many European churches do - on public financing to sustain their institutions. Thus churches are constantly trying to raise funds from those who gather on Sunday mornings. In an age of fickle religious consumerism, this means churches must deliver a pleasing show each week or prepare to go out of business.

What tips would you give those ministers who are forced into the position of being marketers, knowing that a message of “It’s going to be hard work” just isn’t going to cast a very wide net?  Is there a way to also work in the U2 videos and Halo parties, or does that undermine the message?

Ministers, myself included, need to trust that our people hunger for something more substantial than spiritually flavored entertainment and therapy. I would urge these ministers to market to people’s deeper, perhaps latent desires to know God through inspired acts of risk-taking and sacrifice.  Give people a chance to stretch their comfort zones and to be glad in hindsight that they did. Help people hear the stories of fellow congregants who’ve taken risks and grown proportionally. The authentic life of faith has an appeal all its own. It girds the faithful to be clad in virtue that helps them be impervious to the lies and temptations that ruin lives by the millions in America. It may not be such a hard sell in the end.

You write favorably of ministers who refuse to pander to political beliefs in order to boost attendance, but you also are clearly worried about a few topics that, rightly or wrongly (I would suggest the latter), have been politicized in this country:  torture, individual financial responsibility, the environment.  As a minister, how did/do you approach that controversial intersection?  Making a Biblical case against torture may strike one person as simply pro-Christian, but may strike another as anti-Cheney.

The Church needs to stay grounded in the midst of shifting political winds. Principled stands, whether they’re politicized or not, require people to stand firm and be prepared to endure personal consequences for the sake of what’s right. But too often Americans are presumed to be unwilling or incapable to suffer for a worthy cause. That’s why, I believe, civilians were urged to respond to the attacks of 9/11 by going shopping. It’s why we respond to global warming by hoping for technological fixes that will leave our lifestyles untouched. It’s why we have little tolerance for taxes even when we see our national deficits and national debt soar to unsustainable levels. My concern here is for character to be formed in such a way that Americans will rise to the challenges of our times.

You write about the Church needing to return to its role as an “elevating influence” – and despite my own beliefs, I do believe it can play that role for people.  But I don’t agree that it’s the only avenue.  If it’s “Church or Bust” for establishing the moral character of tomorrow’s children, what’s to account for the people of today – and there are lots of them – who were raised without religion and yet oppose torture or treat their neighbors well or volunteer in the inner city just like Ginny Schrenkler?

I don’t argue that the Church is the only elevating influence in America. I write: “If the Church becomes unable to do that job, there will be no large institution in American society capable of shaping good people from one generation to the next” (emphasis added). Of course, some atheist or agnostic families might teach their children to sacrifice for worthy principles. Others might not. That is beside the point. I’m flagging the fact that our society needs a large, visible, established institution that’s charged to elevate the things that people care about. No other large institution will take up this cause – not schools, not media, not government – because it’s not their mission. The Church is on its own in this most important of projects.

Your book focuses on American Protestantism.  How much does an ongoing scandal like the child abuse epidemic within the Catholic Church cross denominations and damage the moral standing of “The Church” as a whole?

Probably all churches are tainted somewhat by the tragic scandal unfolding in the Catholic Church, but it’s only one contributing factor. Onlookers are disappointed whenever they see Christians failing to stand firm in the sacrificial, loving way of Jesus, whether that involves public scandal or private failings.

Shifting gears:  We cover a ton of music on our site, and I took interest in your brief mention of how even music in the church has changed to, well, pander to a broader audience, basically.  You mention that hymns have taken a backseat to jazz performances in order to appease liberal audiences.  That was fascinating to me.  Liberals don’t generally seem to be averse to singing and lyrics – what’s with this odd trend?

It’s not that liberals are averse to singing. It’s that many people in liberal communities seem to like jazz, which has no natural singing role for the audience or congregation. Some churches in these communities are revamping certain of their services in order to accommodate that musical preference. It’s perhaps akin to the playing of country music in America’s 145 “Cowboy Churches,” which tend to lean politically conservative. The jazz trend is especially noteworthy because singing is an essential staple of worship when the faithful gather; it “softens the soul” for transformation. To drop the singing in a nod to musical preferences is to jettison one of the Church’s important, character-shaping tools.  

You talk about the transformative power of music, which would be another belief we share.  If I ask you about a musical experience that was pivotal to the formation of your own faith, is there a moment that jumps to mind?

On Sept. 14, 2001, I officiated a memorial service for a man who was killed in the attacks of Sept. 11. Hundreds turned out for the event, which was held in a park. After many moving remembrances, we closed the service by holding lit candles and singing the beloved hymn, “How Great Thou Art.” People drew from their guts to sing God’s praises with a fervency that I’d never heard before. They were shaken and scared by the events of that week, yet they let forth heartily with a tune that celebrates the ineffability and almightiness of their Creator. Since then, I’ve appreciated how my religious tradition can function as a vehicle for the deepest longings of humankind.