tenets of faith. The power elites and the great middle class of mainline churches joined on Sunday mornings to worship a God who created the world not in seven days, but through the rational process of evolution.
The 1950s, as it turned out, were the last halcyon days of this synthesis. The worldview that had prevailed since the Enlightenment was disintegrating. Modern physics had discovered two decades earlier that the search for timeless, objective truths was not possible. The very act of observation altered the course of subatomic particles. In the human sciences, theories that gave birth to the sociology of knowledge—for example, Karl Mannheim's Ideology and Utopia in 1929—revealed the extent to which human knowledge is socially conditioned. How could one hope to find the truth in a world where knowledge itself was contingent on the vantage point of the observer? Consequently, in the 1960s and 1970s the theological assertions of white, male, European and American theologians were critiqued and found inadequate by women, African Americans, and Latin Americans. If the God of white, Euro-American academic theologians was too distant to be involved in daily life—too high (Karl Barth) or too deep (Paul Tillich)—the God of the disenfranchised of the Third World was present and available in the joys and sorrows of daily life. This theological challenge provided by women and men from other churches and cultures shook the foundations that supported mainline beliefs in the reasonableness of God. If it had been reasonable to assume that God was too preoccupied to get involved in the nitty-gritty of personal relationships with believers, the collapse of the worldview that supported this belief reopened the possibility for developing a personal relationship with God. If groups as diverse as Roman Catholics, evangelicals, and African-Americans could affirm the experiential aspects of a relationship with the holy, many mainline Protestants were now willing to revisit this issue.
At the present time there is neither a theological consensus nor a worldview that binds people of various races, cultures, creeds, classes, and nations together. The absence of consensus produces chaos as well as excitement. Chaos often reigns as old truths are discarded and former authorities are questioned. Yet there is also excitement, for new possibilities can emerge when plurality and ambiguity are the order of the day. In the midst of this turmoil a seemingly intense spiritual yearning has resulted in an unquenchable thirst for reliable tools in the area of spirituality.
Titles at local bookstores across the country have proliferated exponentially. The emergence of this plethora of spiritual materials is both encouraging and frightening. Ten years ago, who would have guessed that Gregorian chant would become a “best seller” in the United States? Would anyone have dreamed that classics from the Middle Ages—for example, the Cloud of Unknowing or the works and music of Hildegard of Bingen—would be not only marketable but also profitable? How will these classics be understood by persons who know little of their context? Will uncritical readings of these works bring the meaning for which people are searching?
The consumer society that produces these literary works is also busy merchandising spiritual techniques for a fee. The symbols and signs of things spiritual—for example, the cross—are unabashedly exploited by savvy advertising entrepreneurs. Only three years ago, Vogue magazine reported that “spiritual equanimity…is only a credit card receipt away.”2
In the midst of this so-called postmodern time, people need guideposts and tools with which to work their way through the spiritual chaos to a more stable place. Such a place may not be terra firma; rather, it may be more like a lifeboat where shelter from the winds allows the testing and evaluating of the available spiritual alternatives.
There are numerous signs of hope today. Committed leaders remain in mainline Protestant churches even as some of their contemporaries leave. These leaders, both clergy and laity, are searching for spiritually enriching paths that will augment the nurture provided by their own congregations and denominations. During the last two decades, a number of these Protestant leaders have sought renewal and guidance by turning to Roman Catholic retreat houses for spiritual guidance. There they learned their spiritual practices and disciplines that focused on developing an experiential relationship with God. In many instances the religious leadership at these retreat houses provided spiritual direction. Protestants who were recipients of this ministry found that spiritual growth added a depth and richness to life that had been neglected by their churches.
Mainline Protestants have also discovered that they have a spirituality even though they have not recognized it as such. Traditionally, Protestant spirituality has focused on the social needs of the society, deliberately separating prayer from social action. Prayer is often described as a pious, self-absorbing activity and is contrasted with the outward ministry of social action. However, in many Roman Catholic retreat houses Protestants have encountered religious leaders who are committed to both prayer and justice. This stance has provided an infusion of spiritual growth and development that many mainline Protestant leaders have taken back to their congregations.
As these leaders have brought their renewed sense of God's presence to the experience of worship, wonderful things have begun to happen. Today, in a significant number of mainline churches a sense of God's presence in worship has been rediscovered. These churches are growing. According to Hadaway and Roozen in Rerouting the Protestant Mainstream,3 this growth is not dependent on congregational size, denominational heritage, or liturgical style. It is happening in large and small congregations, in services with formal liturgies and those with freer forms of worship, and in a variety of mainline denominations. Growth seems to depend on having leaders and worshipers who are persons of faith who believe that God is present when the community gathers to offer worship and praise. When leaders and worshipers believe that God's presence surrounds and infuses them, there is a compelling sense of the holy that touches the depths of their spiritual yearning. For those who have discovered that God is present in the midst of life, the search for a more meaningful and authentic spirituality has not been in vain.
Mainline Protestants are poised to make a contribution to the spiritual lives of individuals and communities of faith who take seriously the pluralistic context of the late twentieth century. Mainline Protestants may not know precisely where they are going, but their contribution comes in part from their knowledge of where they have been. Commitments to critical reflection, to hearing the voices of the dispossessed, to inclusiveness, and to racial equality position them well for evaluating the marketplace of contemporary expressions of faith. Mainline Protestants also tend to recognize the limitations of their knowledge. There is both a critical astuteness and a sense of humility that allows them to honor the spiritualities of others while at the same time recognizing that spiritualities must be subject to critical evaluation.
Yet with all that mainline Protestants can offer, they continue in significant numbers to lack an appreciation for the importance of spiritual nurture per se. If this lack is not addressed, the contribution of these Christians to debates in the public square will be irrelevant. If mainline Protestants do not acknowledge their past blindness in this area and work to understand more fully humankind's spiritual needs, their other contributions to the wider religious context may well be overlooked.
An examination of the Protestant heritage reveals that many of the spiritual practices that leaders and members felt they had to seek from outside sources were already present within Protestantism. Those who are the inheritors of the Reformation have within their own tradition spiritual practices that are life giving. These spiritual practices provide a number of alternatives for spiritual growth. They honor such Protestant principles as freedom of religious practice, the right to question authority, and the need to balance personal devotion with concern for God's world.
By turning to the Protestant heritage, especially the spiritual life of the early movements and leaders, we discover a spiritual legacy that affirms the Protestant tradition and provides spiritual practices that deepen our faith and our commitments to love and justice. The spiritual practices and disciplines used by the thinkers and doers of the various Protestant traditions fostered an experiential relationship with God (the holy). In many cases, the spiritual practices of Protestants owe much to Roman Catholic prayer practices. Before Martin Luther was a reformer, he was an Augustinian monk who knew intimately the prayer life of that religious community; John Wesley was an avid reader who studied the lives of the early church leaders. Protestants who fail to claim the pre-Reformation church as a significant part of their