The Provision of Health Insurance by Religious Employers

I'm a big advocate of the separation of church and state. Knowing this, the other day someone asked me how I felt about the controvery surrounding health care, contraception, and religious employers. Here's my line of thought:

  1. The government has an interest in guaranteeing non-discriminatory access to health care coverage.
  2. Medical contraception is part of health care, not only for legitimate pregnancy prevention purposes, but also for a range of medical reasons related to the regulation of hormones. "The pill" is not used only for contraceptive purposes, but for other legitimate medical reasons, as well.
  3. Medical contraception is used only for women. Denying such coverage affects only women. Thus, denying access to medical contraception violates the government's interests in ensuring non-discriminatory access to health care.
  4. In this country we have an odd, informal but long-held, "grand bargain" between employers and the government that employers provide health insurance to their employees. It is a benefit that employers offer, but is not required by law. 
  5. Employers could opt not to offer health insurance, especially if they find regulations too burdensome (morally, financially, etc.), and instead offer other benefits – such as increased salary – to attract employees. Such employees could then purchase health insurance on the open market.
  6. The Hosanna-Tabor case recently decided by the Supreme Court distinguishes between the staff of religious institutions hired for "ministerial" roles and those hired for non-ministerial roles. In that case, it was ruled that the government could not protect an employee hired for a "ministerial" role who accused her employer of unlawful termination. The government, simply put, does not interfere with how religious organizations employ or terminate employment of people serving in ministerial roles. However, the government continues to have an interest and role in protecting the rights of employees of religious institutions who serve in non-ministerial roles.
  7. If the government has an interest in ensuring equal, non-discriminatory access to health insurance (#1, above) and has a role in protecting the rights of staff serving in non-ministerial roles of religious institutions, it has a role and duty to ensure that such staff receive equal, non-discriminatory access to health insurance.
  8. The government has granted that organizations whose primary purpose is the propogation of the faith, and whose staff overwhelmingly comes from the faith, and whose organizations primarily serve people of that faith (ie, houses of worship) may offer health insurance to their employees that does not cover medical contraception, so as to adhere to religious teaching.
  9. Other church-sponsored organizations, whose employees and whose clientele do not necessarily come from the faith (social service organizations, colleges, etc.) and whose mission has a broad social reach, are treated just like other employers when it comes to the provision of health insurance. 

Short-term commitment to church? I can relate.

The other day I wrote about my struggle to keep running after completing my first marathon, an effort that was itself a capstone to an amazing year of running after 17 years of inactivity and poor eating habits. You see, for a year – and particularly for the few months leading up to the marathon – I somehow got up the gumption to change my life, to commit to running, and to run a race I never thought I would be able to run. But I did it. And I felt great. 

And then I stopped. Goal achieved. Box checked. Motivation, it seems, left somewhere out on 26.2 miles of asphalt in the District of Columbia.

My experience with running is not unlike many people's experience with church.

I've seen people get really involved in church for a while, as if to complete a project – a very tangible "project" such as the Confirmation of their teenager, or a more "spiritual" project of healing following a personal trauma. But once the project is complete, they drift away, having "achieved" what they first came to church seeking, but not having made the patterns of church or faith routine enough to be part of everyday life.

I can relate.

My project was to run a marathon. Since the physically and emotionally rewarding experience of running the marathon, however, my commitment to running has dropped off. Likewise, many people experience a period of intensive involvement in church, but then later drop off.

I don't begrudge folks who slip into the church for a time and then find themselves away, and not only because I can relate with this experience within the realm of running. Rather, part of what we're called to do in the church is to walk with people where they're at, and in that moment strive to be a welcoming community of Christ for them. Our doors are open.

Some come and sit for years on end. Others just wander through and take a look. Others hang out for a while but then move on. That's OK with me. Life-long membership is not the goal. Meeting people in their spiritual need and awakening them to the saving presence of the Triune God in their life – through shared practices of faith, including worship & praise, Bible study, prayer, service, fellowship, and giving – is what we're about, it seems to me.

In my own struggle to make running a daily and on-going routine rather than a time-limited project, perhaps I'm learning a little about those who come to church for a good, long stretch, and then who are absent for an even longer stretch.

As I try yet again to re-re-commit myself to running, I am grateful for friends who know the joy of running and who make running a part of their everyday life. They share their joy with me, and they encourage me despite my inconsistent commitment to running.

May I be as good a pastor, and our church as welcoming a community of faith, as these running friends are to this on-again, off-again, on-again wannabe runner.

Our Church’s Life, Death, and Resurrection

As I prepare to attend next week's synod assembly, I find myself thinking about the church and how it is organized for its God-given mission of proclaiming the Gospel.

The church has been around for nearly 2000 years. The church has taken on a variety of forms and said a variety of prayers, engaged in a variety of efforts for war and for peace, and has adapted itself to a variety of cultures. This should give us great comfort and great hope.

In 20th century North America, the church became an increasingly professional institution. Accredited seminaries provided professional three year degrees to candidates for the ministry. Congregations lining major corridors along rapidly sprawling suburbs built vast education wings complete with school bells and libraries, miniature religious versions of the public schools being built across the country at the time. These growing congregations welcomed the post-war generation with religious education for all ages, Luther Leagues for the youth, women's and men's groups, fellowship opportunities and dignified worship services. Their bells rang throughout the community, and a growing number of citizens heeded their call.

Congregations hired paid staff, not only paid clergy but also professional office, maintenance, and education staff as well. As there were buildings and funds and personnel to manage, structures of congregational governance took on a more significant role. Roberts Rules of Order became one of three books named in the constitutions of Lutheran congregations, alongside the Bible and Book of Concord. Managing the institutional and programmatic affairs of the congregation became a massive undertaking.

Denominations organized their ministries with national structures governing domestic and foreign missions, with boards and regional presidents and untold vast numbers of committees and commissions. Such institutional growth mirrored efforts to organize civil society with national labor unions and service organizations, and global society with the United Nations. Denominational organizations for women's ministry and youth ministry also flourished, with national boards, regional boards, and congregational boards overseeing and organizing their ongoing work and annual or biannual national conventions.

Denominational leaders were featured on the cover of Time magazine, and congregations were a cornerstone of neighborhood life. Clergy gave the invocation at town council meetings, and school systems deferred to the churches for scheduling of extracurricular activities. Prayer kicked off public school football games and high school graduations. 

This is not how the church had always been structured in its 2000 year history. As I wrote above, over its long history the church has taken on a variety of forms and has adapted to a variety of cultures. This description, above, is simply how the mainline church was structured in many parts of mid-20th century North America. The church looked somewhat different a hundred years prior, and it will look different a hundred years hence. 

We cannot keep trying to maintain a mid-20th century model of church in the rapidly-changing 21st century. The early-mid 20th century cultural factors that supported the massive institutionalization of the church are simply not part of our culture and society today. A new model of church has to be formed. 

The Good News is that God's Word will thrive, and the Holy Spirit will continue to gather the gather the church when and where it pleases, just as it has for 2000 years. Let us give thanks for what the church did in the last century, for the ways that God worked through the church and its institutions. And let us look forward in faith to how the Spirit will move through the church, empowering it to carry out a mission of proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus Christ in Word and Sacrament in this next century. 

I think that as people of faith who also love our church, our challenge is to believe the Easter message that out of death comes life, and that everything – even the church we love – dies and rises to new life with Christ.

And more, I think that many of us in the church find ourselves in a Holy Saturday posture of not being sure of whether resurrection will really happen. Or, perhaps we find ourselves in an Easter Sunday posture, bewildered and not sure of what to make of the resurrection that's staring us in the face.

More thoughts to come. Later. 

“Joining God in the Neighborhood”

I was very excited to see Missional: Joining God in the Neighborhood by Alan J. Roxburgh arrive from Amazon. Please know that I didn't order the book and wasn't anticipating its arrival. My wife, a seminary professor, ordered it. However, upon reading the second paragraph on the back of the book, I knew I had to read it:

Missional calls you to reenter your neighborhood and community to discover what the Spirit is doing there – to start with God's mission – and join in, shaping your local church around that mission. With inspiring true stories and a solid biblical base, this is a book that will change lives and communities as its message is lived out.

It was a few years ago, when I worked for Augsburg Fortress Publishers, that I first began to think of God having a mission in the world. Up until that point, I had always associated mission with the church – that the church is on a mission. I had never really thought of God having a mission. But Kelly Fryer wrote an excellent Bible study series called No Experience Necessary – which I, as an Augsburg Fortress sales representative, was charged with selling. One of the themes of No Experience Necessary was, "God is on a mission to love and save the world." I asked myself, "What does it mean for God to be on a mission in the world … and what does it mean for us to join in that mission?"

Then a few years later, while planning for a mission trip to El Salvador, a North American missionary with extensive work in Central America described the work that God was doing through the church in El Salvador. Our job as North American mission partners, he said, was to join in the mission that God was already accomplishing through the Salvadoran church. Too many North American church groups travel to Latin America to "do mission" in Latin America, assuming that there isn't any mission going on unless they bring it. But the truth is that God has been at work in Latin America, through the local churches, long before we even thought about traveling there for our "mission trip." Thus, our calling is to recognize and participate in what God is already doing, to accompany the Latin American church on its mission.

This idea that God is already at work in the world has been an ongoing theme in my preaching, too. I'm convinced that God is at work within the church walls, yes, but also beyond the church walls. God-things are happening at the altar and font, but also at the corner store, the barber shop, the shelter, the county government offices, the public schools, social service organizations, ten mile runs, and more. The church's mission is to carry out its God-given call to proclaim the Gospel in word and deed, to baptize and to teach, yes. But its mission must also include seeing where God is at work in the world and to joining in that blessed work.

If this book, Missional: Joining God in the Neighborhood, examines and extends these themes, I'm sure it will be a worthy read.

Questioning My Commitments to “The System”

I'll admit that this post is driven more by emotion than by careful thought … you've been warned!

I spent this past weekend immersed in worship and fellowship and games and Bible study and fun with about 250 Lutheran youth and adults from around the DC area. About halfway through worship on Sunday morning, in a room filled with adolescents singing and praying and listening in to the preacher, I leaned over to a pastor friend of mine and whispered,

"It's events such as this that make me question my commitment to traditional forms of worship and ministry."

In church it's as if we have this system that regulates and/or structures and/or guides our relationship with God and our experience of faith. It's a good system. I buy into the system. But at what point does the system take over? At what point does the church become an exercise of fitting people into a system rather than of being a place of holy encounter with God? And moreover, how do we define this system?

Sidebar: Yes, I recognize that I'm setting up a dichotomy that, in theory, is false. Surely "the system," well-executed, creates a place holy encounter. But I don't live or work or conduct ministry in theory. In practice, "the system" can and often does become a stumbling block to faith for many individuals and communities.

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Tomorrow’s Sermon, Today

Though I often finish the first draft of my sermons on Fridays, I usually work on the sermons through Saturday evening and even into Sunday morning.  But this week I'm done earlier than usual. Tomorrow's sermon is available today, over at my sermons blog, The Lutheran Zephyr: Sermons (which, if you're interested, has its own RSS feed and email subscription). 

In this sermon I continue a theme from my previous sermon, looking at the new things that God is doing in our Bible texts, and wondering about the new things that God is doing in our lives.

Advent: Blue or Purple?

Reposted from my congregation's December newsletter, The Steeple Light

What is the “proper” color of Advent – blue or purple?  Purple was the long-standing color used by Lutheran congregations, as well as other liturgical churches, through most of the 20th century.  The purple of Advent and of Lent served two purposes – emphasizing the royalty of Christ, as kings in western culture over the centuries were often adorned with purple garments.  Furthermore, purple has a penitential nature to it, inviting introspection and repentance on behalf of the believer.

Indeed, the connection of Lent – with its pilgrimage to the suffering of the cross – with penitential acts is pretty easy to make.  As we reflect on the sin of the world that nailed our Lord to the cross, we also confess our own sin and seek to live more faithful lives. 

But penitence in Advent, in preparation for Christ’s birth?  Absolutely.  For as we prepare to see Christ face to face, in the Christmas incarnation and in his promised return to earth, we anticipate both joy and judgment.  Joy, for in coming to us God is bridging the gap that separates humanity from its Creator.  But judgment, too, for in coming to us God will confront our sin and brokenness, and pass judgment on the degree to which humanity has been unfaithful to God’s commands and vision for human community.

That’s a pretty good case for a purple Advent, don’t you think?

Well, blue has a pretty good case to make, too.  In the late 20th century, some churches began to use blue for Advent, while retaining purple for Lent.  Why?

I can’t give you the historical details – what great church councils or scholars or congregations first began the shift.  But I can tell you that blue offers us a different shade, so to speak, of Advent.  If the purple of earlier years resonates with the penitential nature of the season and draws certain parallels to Lent, the deep blue of Advent highlights the expectant nature of the season, and of our faith.

Deep blue is the color of the clear, predawn sky, the color that covers the earth in the hours before the sun rises in the east.  Most of us are not looking at the sky at that hour – perhaps we’re still asleep, or too weary to notice it as we get onto the Metro or hop into our car for a long commute.  Nonetheless, a deep, dark blue is the color that covers us in the dark, cold hours before the sun dawns.

Thus we use deep blue for Advent to shade the season with a hint of expectation and anticipation of the dawn of Christ.  Surely penitence and spiritual discipline is part of the traditional Advent observance, and this is why so many of you are using Advent wreaths and our congregation’s Advent devotional to mark the days of Advent.  Advent is a time to recommit to our faith and to our God – no matter the color!  But Advent involves more than penitence, and by using deep blue we err on the side of emphasizing the church’s hope-filled and faithful watch for Christ.  The deep blue of Advent is meant to inspire in us the hope of faith, and to encourage us to keep watch for the promised light of Christ to break over the horizon, changing night into day, darkness into light, and filling our lives and our world with a holy and righteous splendor.

No matter your color preference, I hope and pray that you will find this season to be shaded by both the purple and the blue, by the reflective self-examination suggested by the penitential purple, and by the hopeful anticipation suggested by the predawn blue … for both colors call us to lives of faithfulness in this time before the coming of our Lord.

Making Meaning on a Sunday Morning

I skipped church on Sunday morning.  It felt strange, for sure.  I'm a pastor, after all.  I usually work on Sundays, preaching a sermon, presiding at the altar, teaching a class, leading children in prayer.  I'm someone who finds great meaning and power in the Word and Sacraments and the fellowship of the Christian community.

But my Sunday apart from my routine of spiritual fellowship and leadership was not devoid of 09ArmyTenMilerStart meaning.  Quite the contrary.  I took off this Sunday to run in the Army Ten Miler, the largest ten mile race in the country (30,000 registrants; 21K+ finishers).  When I first committed to running this race, it was meant to be a capstone to a six-month return to fitness.  Yet, after an injury that kept me from training for two months, the race became less a capstone to my return to fitness than it was a gut-check as I struggled to stick to one of my exercise goals despite the set-back.

Truth be told, I had no business running the race. I hadn't run more than five miles over the past month, and when I tried for six miles on a recent training run, I crashed and burned with just under a mile to go.  But I ran the race anyway.  It had enough meaning to me that I ran.

And indeed, many among the gathered collection of humanity at the Army Ten Miler were running with meaning.  Sure, there were many people like me who made completing the Army Ten Miler a fitness goal, and many others who had goals of finishing in a certain amount of time.  Particularly in an age of rising health care costs and ever-increasing indicators telling us that we're unhealthy, such goals can be very powerful and motivating.

But people were also running as members of teams.  Over 700 teams competed in the race, from teams comprised of members of military units, to teams of staffers from military contractors, to at least one church team that I saw, to college teams, and so forth.  Their team camaraderie and dedication was fun to watch.

Most significantly, however, were those who were running in honor of soldiers serving overseas, and those running in memory of soldiers killed in action in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Where my wife and I were running – in the back 1/3 of the pack – perhaps as many as 1 in 10 of the runners wore shirts revealing a deep and personal connection to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan: shirts printed with the picture of a soldier killed in action; shirts printed with the picture of a friend or spouse serving overseas; shirts showing that the runner had served in a certain unit at a certain base overseas.  And then, of course, there were the soldiers in wheelchairs, having lost a leg or two in battle.  This race was for many a memorial event, honoring and remembering those who have served and those who continue to serve.

The Army Ten Miler was an amazing, meaningful experience.  Quite different, to be sure, than my usual routine of Sunday morning worship and fellowship.  It's like comparing apples and oranges – both fruit, both good for you, but nonetheless quite different.

It has become clear that fewer and fewer people are making meaning on Sunday mornings by gathering for worship and fellowship, or are making meaning during the week by meeting for Bible study or prayer groups.  But just because the church no longer has the lion's share of the meaning-making market doesn't mean that people are not making meaning.  It is soooooo easy for us in the church to suggest that folks who are outside of the church are leading hapless lives devoid of meaning and purpose (a sentiment I've heard stated more than once).  On the contrary!  Beyond the hallowed walls and stained glass windows of the church large throngs of people are deeply involved in groups and communities and activities which shape their identity and give them meaning.

In an era of church decline our call, perhaps, ought to be to put our ear to the ground and listen to what it is that gives people meaning and purpose, and to believe that God is doing something beyond our walls.  This is not to suggest that churches should abandon the riches of our tradition and faith for ten mile runs, or that God is at work in every activity that gives someone meaning.  Not at all!  But it is a call to take seriously how people today are making meaning, and to consider the experiences of those who do not sit in our pews as worthy of our attention and respect.

Ministering to < 27.5%

Render.php A few weeks ago Dr. Roger Nishioka, professor of practical theology at Columbia Theological Seminary, spoke at our synod assembly's fall session on the topic of young adults in the church.  He had lots of wonderful, challenging, and insightful things to say, many of which were captured in a series of blogposts posted from the floor of the assembly.

But it was one simple fact, I'm ashamed to say, that just shocked me.  Only 27.5% of young adults have a college degree, yet we Lutherans often conduct our ministries in ways that assume that the people in the pews will have at least a college education, and an interest in the theological and Biblical scholarship of the church.  Lutherans, he said, easily appeal to the head with their approach to ministry, concerned with good theology and good liturgical practice.  (As a Presbyterian, he also included in this assesment his tradition, many of whose ministers use an academc style gown when preaching and presiding at worship.)  And not only are we concerned with such things, but we often lead with such things, preaching and teaching and holding conferences about the importance of theology and preaching and liturgy while, perhaps, giving less attention to the life-giving Lord himself, who is the sole purpose and foundation of any good theology or liturgical practice in the first place.  As I confessed in these pixels two weeks ago, I have often attempted to preach in a way that would appease the intellectual gods that I fancy seminary professors and Christian Century editors to be, at the expense of the people who are actually – or who potentially could be – in the pews.

And more.  As our Lutheran pietist sisters and brothers have often highlighted, to what extent does an emphasis on orthodoxy often fail to warm the heart in the way that our Lord's presence warmed the hearts of the disciples on the road to Emmaus?  Orthodoxy and heart-felt faith are not polar opposites – such an opposition would be a false dichotomy – but we who value good order and right doctrine must remember that human beings are whole bodied beings, able and yearning to experience God in all facets of our being, not just through intellectual assent.  For the Word became flesh, took on the entirety of human experience, and lived among us.

But back to the 27.5%.  According to data from the 2000 census, young adults have obtained college degrees at a higher rate than the rest of the population.  That is, the proportion of Americans who have college degrees drops when we factor in older Americans (and by "older," I mean people as young as their late 30s, and older).

For the sake of discussion, let's pretend that this 27.5% is stands for the whole population (which it doesn't).  If in the way we conduct our ministry we're appealing to 27.5% of the population (represented by the green area in the pie chart, above), what about the other 72.5% of the population (represented by the blue area in the chart)?  By the way we conduct our ministry, are we essentially narrowing our proclamation of the Lord of all peoples to only 27.5% of the people, excluding – intentionally or not – the other 72.5% of God's people?  Classism and educational elitism comes into view …

Though I'm suspicioius of Paul's claim to be all things to all people (1 Corinthians 9:19-23) – that's a pretty darned hard thing to do if we're honest with ourselves – I like what he says in these verses nonetheless.  "To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews," that is, in order to speak and teach and minister in ways that make sense to Jews.  Same thing "to those under the law," "to those outside the law," and "to the weak" – Paul became as one of them, "that I might by all means save some."  He knows that he cannot "win" any – that is, that he cannot proclaim the Gospel in ways that draw people to Christ – simply by staying within his own worldview.  He is willing to change the manner in which he conducts his ministry, "for the sake of the gospel."

Are we willing to try and follow Paul's lead?  Are we willing, for the sake of the gospel, to change the manner in which we conduct our ministry?  Are we able going to become weak for the weak, under the law for those under the law, outside the law for those outside the law?  Are we willing to view the world from the perspective of 72.5% of the population who does not have a college education, and conduct our ministry in a way that might speak to even some of them?  Are we willing to believe that God might care less about the framed degrees on our office walls than He does the people who never had the ability, opportunity, or luxury to accumulate such learning?  And if so, how does that belief shape the way we conduct our ministry?

As this last paragraph attests, I have more questions than answers.  I'm more convicted of my own failure than I am convinced about what to do.  I'm humbled by Paul and all the saints who have gone before me in genuine service to all God's people.  I'm awed by the God who chooses weakness and foolishness as his way in the world.  I'm weighed down by the sin of my own pride, the storing up of academic treasures framed on my wall and stacking up on my bookshelf, and I ask God to change my heart and my ways, so that I might more faithfully serve all his people.

Choosing Church … or Vacation, or Soccer, or Work, or Family Time, or …

One of the most subtle yet significant learnings I picked up at the ELCA Youth Ministry Network's Extravaganza was a simple little law filled with love: Don't complain about parents who take their kids to (insert activity) instead of church. They are doing so out of love.  Indeed, the importance of this little law didn't strike me at the time, and didn't appear in the three blogposts I wrote during the Extravaganza (here, here and here).  But of all that I heard and learned at the Extravaganza, I've been reflecting more on that insight than any other, perhaps because it is so counter-intuitive to our attendance and event-driven models of youth ministry.

This month's newsletter article is, in part, a product of those reflections (together with some reflections on the scheduling of public school Spring Break during Holy Week, about which I wrote here).  More reflections to come …

Holy Week, Vacation, and the Secularization of Sundays
March 2010

Families and teachers alike have March 26 circled on their calendars.  Barring any more days canceled due to snow, Arlington Public Schools will close on Friday afternoon, March 26, and not reopen again until Monday, April 5.  It is the school's annual week-long Spring Break, a time for teachers and learners alike to get some much deserved rest in the middle of the long winter/spring school term. 

Spring Break is the only scheduled week-long break from January through June, and many families understandably use this time to travel for late-season ski trips, visits to Grandma's house, a vacation in Florida, or a chance to make a few college visits.  As a youth I traveled many times with my family to ski resorts in New England and Colorado during Spring Break.  The snow was a bit slushy at the bottom of the mountains, but up top it was great!  As a teenager I found these vacations to be wonderful breaks in my increasingly busy school schedule, and to this day I value my memories of time spent with family on those trips.

Yet Spring Break is scheduled to coincide with Holy Week, meaning that many families find themselves traveling during the most sacred observances of our church year.  I emailed Arlington Public Schools (APS) Superintendent Patrick Murphy asking why APS chooses to schedule Spring Break during Holy Week.  His response – "APS schedules its break to coincide with that of neighboring jurisdictions."  I haven't contacted other area school systems, but I can only assume that the scheduling of Spring Break during Holy Week began some time ago out of deference to the churches, granting churches a week when students and families wouldn't be occupied with schoolwork, sporting events, or other school-related activities.

However, what may have originated out of deference to the churches has become a challenge for their ministry.  Families wishing to make use of their only week of vacation between January and June struggle with how to balance families needs and religious observances.  Churches predictably see a lower attendance at Holy Week observances and events due to the number of families who are traveling.

Of course, it is not only during Holy Week that people face decisions about how best to use their family's time.  Sunday morning has become a popular time for youth sports, and weekends are for some families the only opportunity to share quality, sustained time together.  And of course, a significant proportion of the population works on Sunday mornings (how else would you get your coffee or donuts on the way to church?).

It is too easy for the church to wag its finger and tell people they should "make the right choice," insisting that kids attend Sunday School rather than soccer.  When we make that simplistic claim we fail to recognize that when Christian families make the difficult choice to spend Sunday mornings somewhere other than church, they are often doing so out of love.  In a world where families have less time together, who can blame them for making the decision in love to spend time together on Sundays rather than run off to church?  In a world where kids are worried about college applications even in middle school, it is love that propels a mother to send her child to soccer, hoping that this athletic skill might help her son compete in the cut throat, competitive world of high school and college.  In a world where jobs are hard to come by, who can blame someone for taking a job on Sunday mornings so that he can provide for himself and the family he loves?

What the church is called to do in these situations is to respond in love, support families in their God-given vocation of caring for each other, and explore ways to extend its ministry to people whose lives are governed by hectic and oppressive schedules.  And yes, there is a time and a place for discussing the choices that we Christians are called to make … but that place is not from the blunt end of a wagging finger.  Instead, it might be at the sideline of a soccer game, on a church-sponsored family retreat, or at the end of an eight hour shift on Sunday afternoons.  The church and its members can only benefit by going into the world and meeting people where they're at, following the example of our Lord who loved the world so much that he entered into it, walked with his people in love, and shared in the joys and sorrows of their humanity.