Theological meetings address more than angels dancing on the head of a pin

Nowadays, church attendance is down but interest in religion is up, especially among young adults. Did you see the movie "Dogma"? It asks if indeed there are any spiritual and cosmic cause-and-effect relationships at work in the universe, and if there are, are they all bizarre? It asks if God is indeed a woman, and if so, is she playful? There is a definite search for meaning going on.

How often do we see religious language and references in rock songs other than Christian rock songs? How about titles like: "Falling into Grace," "G.O.D. (Good Old Days )," or "Shallow be thy Game"? How about the lines: "Lead us not into temptation/We are pure divine creation ..." "I saw God and I saw the fountains ..." "I know you said you don't believe in God ..." "In heaven unseen and hell unknown ..."?

How often do you see bumper stickers talking about religious stuff? Have you seen "My karma ran over your dogma"? Or "Jesus Loves You But I'm His Favorite"?

Everybody's trying to make sense of it all, including my neighbor John who, at age 5, ran screaming from the church when they started to sing "Eat his body, drink his blood ...."

This contemporary, you might even call it secular, longing for transcendental truth finds expression in an offbeat, organic, spiraling Theological Discussion Group that convenes twice a month at Edgewater Emmanuel United Methodist Church ( 5144 13th Ave. S.). "Andrew the Heretic," as he jovially calls himself, is the informal moderator, along with Edgewater's pastor, Max "The Diplomat" Richter.

Over the 18 months of its existence, the group has covered topics ranging from winter holidays and the origins of celebrations, which they discussed at their first meeting, to such inevitable themes as marriage and sexuality, family values, death and dying, the afterlife, the divinity of Jesus, sin and redemption, heaven and hell, scriptural faux pas, symbols, angels, images of God, and justice. Recently they watched Joseph Campbell's "The Power of Myth," visited a religious art show, and now are planning to view and discuss Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ," coupled with the general topic of "FEAR."

In its search for truth the group accesses ancient sacred texts and symbols, tribal stories, popular media wisdom, historical scholarship ... wherever collective consciousness has come to some kind of conclusion. Since human beings live entirely according to the images that live in their minds, it is worthwhile to work on molding these images. For example, if somebody says, "The opposite of divinity is nothingness," that's a thought that is introduced into your mind and changes you. It gives you a slightly different image of reality.

People from many Christian denominations are represented, as well as people from other religions. Common to all of them is an interest in the Higher Power, the spirit, whoever God might be. Clearly the meeting is not a Bible study group, or a Christian studies group. Lenora Olson, a frequent attender, says it's not at all like Sunday School.

Some participants prepare for the meetings. They research a theme that has come up, gather new information, consider it and come up with their own conclusions or develop questions they would like to ask whoever might be there.

As the unstructured conversation floats from theme to theme, compatibility is ensured by a pre-agreement that no one will try to convert anyone else to their way of thinking. Based on past experience with "open" forums that fell apart, Pastor Richter says the key piece is that you can't tell people they're going to hell if they don't believe the right things. The group has established a "non-conversion rule" which is reviewed at almost every meeting. Although there is a core cluster of members, new people come and go fluidly so it is important to keep explaining that requirement. Co-founders (and moderators) Max Richter and Andrew Venjohn are intent on keeping the dialogue open, a true sharing of ideas.

So far the group has attracted the rare combination of the very old and the very young; the absence of baby boomers is notable. In this group, just because you're a Gen-X-er doesn't mean you reject the wisdom of the past and just because you're an octogenarian doesn't mean you're set in your ways. Wilda Gustafson, an elder and author of two published novels who has attended regularly since the beginning, loves the exchange of ideas. "It does something for me ... I can't describe how enthusiastic I am." She adds, "There's more to religion than what you get in church."

Venjohn is moved by hearing the voices of the 80-year-olds. "[I get a] glimpse of [their] exposure to something I'll never see." He describes his generation as postmodern, "to use the overused term," who've deconstructed everything and don't know what to do next. They "don't trust the structures that have existed for over hundreds of years." Gen-X-ers have a strong distrust of institutions. "What can we count on? We can count on each other." However, the age gap, and thus the distance between worldviews, doesn't keep conversations from becoming personal. Richter says there is a high level of trust, and people often share in a very personal way.

Because of the absence of baby boomers and the recent absence of men, in contrast to the original 50/50 gender representation, there is talk of actively recruiting middle-aged men. Also, noticeably lacking is a variety of races; everyone, so far, has been Caucasian. Still, the three people who spoke to me about their experience with the group were all impressed with the group's diversity, meaning the range of ideas brought forth. It is obvious that anyone of any race would be welcome ... as long as they agreed to refrain from proselytizing.

Lenora Olson, a member at Edgewater Emmanuel who just came back to the Christian church last year after a 20-year break, believes the open discussion "probably strengthens faith if you already have it and, if not, opens the door for you to have faith." Finding similarities with other religions is affirming, not threatening, she says.

James Kilabarda, a longtime friend of Venjohn's who attends off and on, says the purpose of sharing ideas is not necessarily to come to an agreement but to "come to a conclusion in my own mind." He says the discussions are a "very good way [for people] to find out what their faith means to them." Also, he says it's a "release" to be able to "discuss things not discussed in church." Questioning his faith "makes it mine, not my father's."

Venjohn and Kilabarda were both raised Catholic in unquestioning environments. At the U of M Venjohn pursued cultural studies and comparative literature, with a focus on belief systems and a minor in women's studies. Kilabarda got a business degree at St. Thomas University where he also studied theology. Both men are ardent feminists. Although Kilabarda is active in the Catholic Church, he dislikes the fact that women can't be priests (but he appreciates the church's focus on social justice). Since the two men have so much in common, they often agree, and one thing Kilabarda likes about attending the group is that "it's exciting to have diverse opinions."

For years Andrew and James talked about starting some kind of philosophical/theological discussion group, maybe a coffee shop forum, but it didn't get off the ground until Venjohn met Richter at the Sunnyside Up restaurant where Venjohn waits tables. Pastor Richter had books and notes spread out on the table one weekday afternoon as he drank coffee and prepared a sermon. "Andrew the Heretic" couldn't help noticing the "Women's Bible Commentary"on the table, which started the conversation that continues at Edgewater Emmanuel today.

Venjohn is an extrovert with striking blue eyes and lean, Germanic good looks. He wears a wide silver ring with a copy of an East Indian symbol of growth and celebration etched into it. He reads constantly and gets into deep discussions with people all the time. Waiting tables is a good vocation for him. He feels that "customer service is the best way to pursue my educational background."

"Theology was always fascinating to me ... the symbolic, esoteric and historical aspects of theological and dogmatic constructs ..." He says a goddess makes more sense than a male god. He says our society is so male oriented that it is unnecessary to even have a "masculinist" section in the library because masculine-ness is already known; it is only necessary to have a feminist section.

Conversation with Venjohn is energizing and thought-provoking. I had just read "The Secret Life of Bees," about the fellowship of women, generosity, compassion, and a female deity. He, of course, had read it and had just discovered a connection with a bee symbol that appeared engraved into a jacobite chalice, representing the bloodline of Judah, a symbol of royal wisdom since before the time of Solomon.

Ruddy, robust and angelic, Richter is also a handsome extrovert with bright blue eyes. His college degree is in organizational communication—which has to do with communication systems within organizations, and is a degree "you can do everything or nothing with”—and Spanish. Before going to United Theological Seminary, where he got a Master of Divinity degree in 1999, he worked in youth and children ministry and also in long-term care. After seminary he was involved in a praxis ministry, meeting at Nye's Polonaise Room and at coffee shops in St. Paul and South Minneapolis, with the intention of reaching out to Generation X. Edgewater Emmanuel is his first church and he has found it an ideal place to establish the nontraditional theological discussion group.

I visited the group one evening last December. It was snowing when I got there and still snowing when the meeting ended. Arriving late (nobody held it against me) I followed the signs and arrows and then the sound of booming, resonant voices to a fluorescent lit room on the upper floor. Wilda Gustafson, who takes it upon herself to bring refreshments, offered me cookies and coffee.

They had already opened with the usual announcements, introductions, the explanation of the non-conversion rule and a Wesleyan check-in using the traditional Methodist check-in question: "How is it with your soul?"

New people visit almost every time, I understand, so my entrance was not a disruption. I felt like Max Richter was already a friend because in our various phone conversations we had discovered we had two friends in common. And I knew we had in common the emphasis of our respective religious backgrounds, Methodist and Mennonite, on service and social justice. While it was nice to have these connections, it seemed like the kind of group where I could have felt comfortable even without them. The discussion continued. Max says the themes meander from one place to another quite freely; there was no attempt to "stay on track."

Some of the information and ideas that floated by were: the marriage of Jesus and Mary Magdalen was reported in the Gospel of Phillip; the wedding where Jesus turned water into wine might have been his own wedding; Jesus' father, Joseph, was a master craftsman and the term "carpenter" was a mistranslation; the Book of Timothy tells of the life of Jesus at ages 4 and 5; the Western date for celebrating Christmas came from the Mithras culture; and it was a literary device of the time to have kings born to virgins.

The most interesting part of the discussion, for me, was the question about Jesus as a married man, not something I've heard considered in traditional settings. What kind of marriage? A partnership? A marriage in which the man is the head of the family? How would Jesus' image as divine or human change if we saw him as a married man? Did he have children? What kind of father could a person with his mission be?

The discussions can go in the direction of the esoteric, obscure and irrelevant, what the medieval theological question "How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" embodies—or they can lead to subject matter from which people can, as Max states it, "reflect on their practice in the world, how they live their lives."

The Theological Discussion Group meets the first and third Mondays of each month at 7 p.m. at Edgewater Emmanuel United Methodist Church, 5144 13th Ave. S.