An inner city church, located in an area of the downtown where there were few residents, was forced to a decision. A large corporation was offering them a great deal of money for their site, on which the corporation wanted to put a parking lot. The money would enable the church to move to another part of the inner city where they would find many more people to serve. Even though this was exciting to some of the congregation, other members were resistant to the idea. They pointed out that the church was the guardian of a building whose history and architecture reached back into the early part of the nineteenth century. Denominational history had been made in that building, and some of the grand figures of the church had passed its portals.

Eventually the congregation decided to sell the site and make the move to a new building in a teeming inner-city neighborhood. The pastor who was with this congregation through all this upheaval said, "We had to decide whether we wanted to be in a museum or in mission." They couldn’t have it both ways. It meant either staying on their site, glorying in their past history and serving a few people, or giving up their past and gearing themselves to a significant ministry among the city’s people. They opted for mission status over museum status.

Something of this same struggle is indicated in this scripture passage. The Pharisees and scribes came down on the side of museum religion. They wanted attention given to those who were stable, pious and not a liability if invited to the country club. Their’s was a "let’s have our synagogue programs be for us dependable, like-minded types," as some present-day church-growth advocates. Jesus disappointed them by insisting that the issue was one of mission: to reach out to those who needed great mercy, lessons in etiquette, social graces, and perhaps a bath. Paying attention to these "lost" persons would change the comfortable fellowship the scribes and Pharisees enjoyed at the synagogue, to say nothing of putting a dent into its budget.

I

The tendency of the church to choose museum over mission has often been noted by those inside and outside the church. George MacLeod, in his Only One Way Left, imagines Karl Marx reading the address given by Thomas Chalmers at the cornerstone laying at the Divinity Hall, New College, Edinburgh: "Nothing will ever be taught, I trust, in any of our Halls, which will have the remotest tendency to disturb the existing order of things ..." MacLeod suggests that at this point Marx says to himself, "We must proceed to the emancipation of man without benefit of clergy."

Too often does the church choose museum over mission. We commit money, leadership and prayer toward keeping things as they are - at the local level and in our denominational traditions. During the 1960s, when an exciting idea of a united church, embracing ten or more American Protestant denominations structured itself into the Consultation on Church Union, we all became noticeably hesitant as the process moved toward a decision point. Suddenly, we discovered all sorts of denominational heritage and history that seemed threatened, wondered how our particular styles of polity might fare in a united church, and generally lost nerve in the face of growing resistance toward mission over museum at the grass-roots level.

In the same city where can be found the church, with whose story we began, there is another church that made the opposite choice. It didn’t have a long history, as did the first congregation; but it was a prestigious church with a fine building and a loyal, resident WASP-ish membership. In short, it was strong and prosperous - until the neighborhood began to change. Instead of reaching out to the new residents and welcoming them into the church, the congregation and pastor deliberately chose to keep things as they were. But that couldn’t last and, as members died or moved away, the strength and life of that congregation dwindled to almost nothing. Today that congregation is struggling to be in mission, desperately trying to erase the negative image the church projected to the neighborhood in its museum years. The issue for any congregation is always museum or mission. The tendency is to choose what seems to be the safe, but deadly way - that of becoming a museum.

II

So now we’re down to mission: that’s all that’s left if we want to survive. Mission means concentrating on persons and structures that have not been touched by the gospel. Jesus called them "the lost sheep" or "the lost coins." The church and its "good news" exist primarily for the sake of these lost persons or lost structures. We are not to neglect the needs of those who have already received the gospel, or take lightly the church as the instrument through which that gospel has made its way into our lives. It is simply that the church’s agenda always puts "Where are we going?" before "Where have we been?" and "Who’s not here?" before "Who is here?"

Every local church can decide for mission in terms of reaching out to people in need. One urban church, long a large, family-centered congregation and known for its preaching ministry, discovered that an increasing number of its immediate residents were single young adults. It was obvious that the program of that church would not attract these persons. So the church decided to shift a large segment of its program toward meeting the interests and needs of single young adults. The result is that this congregation is the focal point for mission to single young adults in that section of the city. In addition, it has found that new life and vitality and numbers have come to this church because of its decision for mission.

Another congregation in another city has been reduced by urban flight to a small fraction of its former membership. One night a devastating fire destroyed the impressive building of that church. Many remarked on what a sad thing this was to have happened to this congregation. Its structure had long been a landmark of the downtown area, and many in suburban congregations claimed that their spiritual home was in that place.

But wise lay and pastoral leadership saw an opportunity for mission that had not existed before fire destroyed their building. From the fire they received an insurance settlement of several million dollars. This money became the opportunity to decide for mission. The congregation opted not to rebuild their church. Instead, they meet for worship and church school in another nearby church that has ample space for them. With thoughtful investing the congregation is able to use their new financial means to underwrite a number of outreach ministries, from campus ministry to a shelter for the city’s street people. They could have chosen to be museum, concentrating on rebuilding their building. Instead, they chose the path of mission.

This is not to suggest that moving from museum to mission is a guarantee of survival, nor of numerical and financial success. Not all congregations in our changing society will survive, not even those that seriously choose the way of mission. Some churches may dare to leave their museum status, perhaps dying even sooner than if they had not risked to be in mission. Yet Robert Payne has written of the early church of the near east in The Holy Fire. He says that when the Turks overwhelmed that region, destroying the church, there was a strange power in dying: "The Eastern Church was never so strong as when its worshipers and priests were in full flight and its churches were no more than stableyards of Turkish horses." Cross and resurrection have churchly meaning that ought to be noticed as we contemplate museum or mission.

III

Let’s move on to another museum-or-mission juncture. It is the area of ideology. Now among pragmatic, practical-minded Americans, there is a certain distaste and fear of ideology; it seems something reserved for those on the extremes of the right or the left. Nor are Ideologists credited with having everyday usefulness. Perhaps not. My guess is that neither Michael Harrington nor William Buckley, Jr., could tune up my car.

But I would define ideology as an inescapable outlook from which we view ourselves and the world. It comes as standard human equipment, and none of us is without some sort of ideology. It gives order to the way we understand life and it weights our interpretation of facts and experiences. Like the chap who discovered, to his surprise, that he had been speaking prose all his life, we are condemned to having an ideology - and to being ideologues. There is no escape from it.

All of this means that the church has the possibility of helping shape and nurture the ideology of people - inside and outside the church. British pastor and former missionary to Africa, Colin Morris, says that the pulpit is about the only place left in our society where serious issues are discussed. He may be exaggerating a bit with that comment; but he does realize that the church is in an envious position of contributing to the nurture and growth of ideology in its members and surrounding communities.

Apparently, the American Roman Catholic bishops recognize this, too. They have spoken to two major issues in American life during the past several years. First, they made an impressive statement on the arms race and, more recently, have issued another detailed statement on the American economy in relation to Christian teachings. Those who resist and complain about what the bishops have done underscore the point: the bishops are challenging Christians and others of good will to possess what Paul called, "the mind of Christ."

To help people begin to think about the way they perceive the world and what the facts really mean is an important mission of the church. Christians must be confronted with their own presently-held ideologies, convictions that tend to uncritically support defense spending, to exempt conglomerates and corporations from the demands of social justice, and to affirm the insidious assumption that America’s prosperity is somehow linked to our moral and spiritual excellence. Issues of race and minority rights will also become themes for Christian ideological mission.

Of course this is a dangerous path - as all vital mission really is. Vulnerable is the pastor who finds this his special calling in particular circumstances. Clergy in areas where corporate ruthlessness has moved to break unions, close plants and depress a whole community, know the frustration of this role. When they challenge corporate greed and destruction through sermons and conversation, they are often told that it is none of the church’s business; sometimes they are told it by the very persons being hurt the most.

Yet real mission by the church will mean to reach out for ideas and judgments that initially are disturbing. In a sense, these are "the lost" thoughts and perceptions that must be brought into our Christian outlook. Peace, corporate justice, national humility, and the integrated society are among the issues that challenge our comfortable mental museums. The question is: will there be mission or not? There is no guarantee of earthly success, even though it may become the source of real excitement and fulfillment. But if as Jesus said, "there is joy before the angels of God" when we so do his work, then this should be enough for any of us.