Bruce Reyes-Chow, the moderator of the last PC(USA) General Assembly asks on his blog: “Why are you Presbyterian?” He’s just written a church wide letter on the topic, and is asking members far and near to chime in as well.  I bit.  Here it goes:

Why am I in the PC(USA)?

Because am was born into it.

The real question, then, is “why do I stay PC(USA)?”

Back in the day, denominational ties were clear and tended to stay. Presbyterians grew up Presbyterians and stayed Presbyterian. When they moved — which they did less often — they landed in another Presbyterian church.

Now, though, denominations are less distinct from one another, and folks don’t have such strong ties to each denominational brand. When they move, they join the church that fits them best or offers a certain program, regardless of its denominational ties. Or, they just don’t join another church at all.

I was born into a Presbyterian family, was baptized at a Presbyterian congregation, and confirmed in a Presbyterian church. But, now, I consciously choose to live out my faith in the PC(USA).

I do so not because the PC(USA) is perfect, but because Presbyterians have power within the denomination to make it better.

I do so not because I wouldn’t love to be Lutheran or Episcopal, but because other denominations have plenty of their own challenges.

I do so not because I love every aspect of Presbyterian history, or believe everything those writers of the Scots Confession believed, but because as a Presbyterian I am both relatively bound and relatively free to the beliefs of those who went before me.

Back in 2003, I filled-out the first of many a form concerning my preparation for ordained ministry in the PC(USA). Now six years later and in the midst of making plans for my ordination service, I have 76 files on my laptop in the folder “Ordination Stuff” and over 150 emails in my “First Call Possibilities” folder. So I have learned firsthand that the Presbyterian church is neither speedy nor scared of paperwork. And through that preparation for ordination process I saw many a flaw in the denomination’s system.

But back in 2003, on that first form, I answered the question: What does it mean to you to be Presbyterian? In many and various ways, my answer today would be largely the same.

What does it mean to you to be Presbyterian?

Representation. Majority rule with minority rights. Reformed tradition. Open to the Spirit. Connectional. Socially active. Liturgy. Good music. Biblical. Confessional. Constitutional. Those words come to mind when I think “Presbyterian.” The most prominent aspect of the Presbyterian Church to me is that we are a connectional church. Connection is going to Montreat and meeting a friend you went to Presbytery Camp with. Connection is seeing that same friend at General Assembly. Connection is about going to any Presbyterian Church in the nation and following the lectionary, using the same basic ways to worship, responding with familiar liturgy, singing from the “blue hymnal,” and communing with elders. Connection is embodied in the responsibilities of the General Assembly, Synods, Presbyteries, Churches, elders, deacons, and members. Presbyterians do the best they can to be God’s Church. We’re not perfect, but we are the Church to which I hope to be called.

This post is the second in a two part series exploring the implications of Brafman and Beckstrom’s The Spider and the Starfish: The Unstoppable Power of Leaderless Organizations for the Prebyterian Church (USA).  For part I, an overview of the book, go here.

Which pointy-limbed creature is the PC(USA)? Starfish or Spider?

First and foremost, a distinction between the church universal and individual denominations seems necessary.

The church universal does not have a center; it does not have a spider’s head. It perhaps has “centers”–Rome, Colorado, South Africa, Seoul–but the church universal is a decentralized faith. Or, speaking theologically, the claim that Christ is head of the church leads to a decentralized starfish like faith. This is great in terms of Christianity’s survival. There’s no one person in charge. There are no headquarters. If you take out a denomination–or even an entire stream (say, Lutherans) the faith still survives. Knowledge and power is distributed all over the world. Units are self-funding. You cannot accurately count the participants. Thinking of the church universal is thinking of a starfish organization.

Denominations, on the other hand, can function in much more spider-like ways. I’ll consign the rest of my denominational comments to the Presbyterian Church (USA), my tribe, which I know well.

First, I’ll turn to the starfish/spider characteristics as applying to the PC(USA). Is there someone in charge? Yes, two some ones, in fact (or maybe three). We have the moderator of the last General Assembly. The stated clerk, elected to serve a term of several years. And the chair of the General Assembly Council. These folks do the work of the church, the work assigned them by PC(USA) members and they wouldn’t want to be thought of as the head of the church (right Bruce?, right Gradye?), but they do function in many ways as “in charge,” perhaps leaning towards a spider-like structure.

Next, the PC(USA) does have a headquarters called “The Presbyterian Center” in fact: spider. But, on the other hand, if one took out the center (sorry Louisville), the denomination would still function. It’d be severely impaired, but our polity has enough framework in place for the denomination to survive: starfish. Does the PC(USA) have a clear division of roles? Depends who you ask, and what you’re speaking of. Thinking of worship, for instance, we are clear that only ministers of Word and Sacrament may perform the sacraments. But, any person may preach, teach in church, or say the benediction. Muddying the waters even more are the specific instructions as to whom arranges worship: the minister chooses the scripture lessons, but the session decides what time worship is held. The minister presides at communion, but the session authorizes how many times it is celebrated. The minister is responsible for “the music to be sung” in worship, but the session is responsible for “the overall program of music and other arts in the church.” And that’s just worship! Brafman and Beckstrom ask to distinguish spiders from starfish, “is there ‘a clear division of roles’ or ‘an amorphous division?’” Might us in the PC(USA) say “both?”

Similarly, the PC(USA) is both remarkable rigid (spider) and flexible (starfish). We are rigid, for instance, in our ordination process. Pages of the constitution are dedicated to describing the appropriate steps to take before becoming ordained to the office of Minister of the Word and Sacrament. But, that said, I have heard of persons ordained to the office of elder who are not even members of a PC(USA) congregation. The constitution, by some, is not treated in a particularly rigid manner. In my experience, different congregations can be remarkably rigid or flexible themselves. I’ve seen congregations gather hundreds of people with just a few hour’s warning to serve in an emergency. I’ve also seen session meetings last three hours and accomplish precious little. Overall, the PC(USA)’s history of having teaching elders (minister) and ruling elders (elders who “measured out” fidelity to the gospel) is an exercise in flexible rigity. Or, perhaps, rigid flexibility. So, perhaps, neither a spider nor a starfish.

The PC(USA) does keep careful statistics and we can count our members: spider (unlike Alcoholics Anonymous, for instance, which does not even know how many AA chapters exist). But, working groups (or congregations) can and do communicate with one another directly: starfish. Also, though, they communicate with one another through the presbytery, so that’s another someone hybrid characteristic.

Finally, a characteristic that distinguishes starfish and spiders is their funding sources. Again, the PC(USA) is somewhat hybrid. It’s starfish-like in that congregations are self-funding (unlike, say, our brothers and sisters in the Church of Scotland). That said, individual congregations are required to pay a per capita allowance to the national church. Fascinating, though, is the trend for churches unhappy with the actions of the General Assembly to withhold per capita. Withholding per capita, it seems to me, is an attempt to injure the spider’s head; it’s an attack at centralization. Interestingly, however, the churches withholding funds often do so out of anger regarding moves toward the changing of ordination standards to allow more people to be ordained–a starfish characteristic–and the churches who withhold tend to function with a slightly more hierarchical ecclesiology (spider).

Also, consider the founding of new PC(USA) churches, or New Church Developments (NCDs). The funding for NCDs usually comes, in large part, from the presbytery or perhaps another multi-congregational body. So even our new churches are funded by a centralized (and spider) system.

In my estimation, the PC(USA) is neither a starfish or a spider but a hybrid organization. In the book, a business expert explains of Toyota, “I taught them that top management is a function and a responsibility rather than a rank and a privilege” (185). This car management philosophy echoes precisely our Presbyterian theology of ordination–officers are ordained not to a higher or lower calling, but to a responsibility.

The challenge of the PC(USA) is to find “enough decentralization for creativity, but sufficient structure and controls to ensure” faithfulness (191). We also do this with an added challenge Brafman and Beckstrom do not address–honoring our tradition, being led by the word, and always seeking to follow the new movements of Holy Spirit.