International Journal of

Public Theology 9 (2015) 131–155

brill.com/ijpt

Belonging without Believing

Church as Community in an Age of Digital Media

Esther McIntosh
York St John University, UK
e.mcintosh@yorksj.ac.uk

Abstract

This article flips on its head Grace Davie’s notion of ‘believing without belonging’. From
a consideration of the internet and social networking media as a public space and a
new ‘public’ or fifth estate, the article proceeds through a discussion of religious activ-
ity online to investigate the concept of community, the function of communication
theology and the place of morality in online activity. Finally, the article considers the
popularity of Sunday Assembly and concludes that there is a significant move towards
belonging without believing both on- and offline.

Keywords

belonging – believing – community – church – digital media – digital theology

Introduction

According to Grace Davie’s well-worn argument the decline in traditional

church attendance is not fully accounted for by secularization and loss of the-
istic belief; rather, she claims that while religious practice is in decline, reli-
gious belief is alive and well. Hence, she asserts that Britain has entered an

* This article began as a shorter presentation for the Global Network of Public Theology
consultation ‘The Word and the World’, University of Chester, 2–6 September 2013; it was
then developed for an invited presentation at King’s College London’s Research Institute for
Systematic Theology before being further developed into this article. I am grateful for the
feedback I have received from audiences and referees.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���5 | doi 10.1163/15697320-12341389

132 mcintosh

era of ‘believing without belonging’.1 Turning Davie’s oft-cited statement on

its head, through an exploration of the concepts of community and church,
I will argue that, with the advent of social networking media, Twitter and
virtual churches, we have entered an era of ‘belonging without believing’.
In previous work I have focused on the concept of community in face-to-
face relations.2 In particular, I have borrowed the notion of community from
the work of John Macmurray, who argues for a distinction between society
and community.3 That is, groups of people related for a specific purpose or
to achieve a common goal—such as work colleagues, sports clubs or activ-
ist networks—are societies, at least at first; they may become communities if
relationships among the members deepen and go beyond their roles and func-
tions, so that they relate to one another for the sake of the relationship itself.
Communities, then, are to be found in families and among friends, where care
and concern for others are the bedrock of the relationships. We may also find
communities among religious groups, where there is genuine concern for the
well-being of fellow worshippers, who are, then, treated as ends in themselves
and not as a means to an end. Historically, functional relationships have devel-
oped into friendships over time, through the communication of our inner
selves during face-to-face contact. While pen pals have maintained long dis-
tance relationships, it is generally true that close relationships are harder to
sustain over distance, both because communication is out-of-date by the time
it is shared and because the possibilities for practical acts of kindness—such
as sharing childcare, or cooking a meal—are limited. This concept of com-
munity fits with the African notion of ubuntu: I am because we are. However,
this notion of community is deeply challenged by digital media, where geo-
graphical distance is no longer a barrier, updates are instant and friendships
are maintained without (or with infrequent) face-to-face contact.
At the heart of our friendships, our communities and our religion we find the
human desire to communicate. Religions rely on the ability to communicate,
especially over space and time, in order to maintain continuity and a sense

1 Grace Davie, Religion in Britain Since 1945: Believing without Belonging (Oxford: Blackwell,
1994), p. 94; rewritten as Religion in Britain: A Persistent Paradox (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell,
2015), still using the phrase ‘believing without belonging’, while also introducing the notion
of ‘vicarious religion’.
2 See, for example, Esther McIntosh, ‘Community and Society: Macmurray and New Labour’,
in S. C. H. Kim and P. Kollontai, eds, Community Identity: Dynamics of Religion in Context
(London: T. & T. Clark, 2007), pp. 69–88.
3 Esther McIntosh, John Macmurray’s Religious Philosophy: What It Means to be a Person
(Farnham and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2011), esp. ch. 5.

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of identity, and to transmit meaning. Historically, religions communicated to

self-selecting members through the human voice and the written word. More
recently, advances in technology enabled the dissemination of religious ideas
to wider and less committed groups through radio and television, and now
religion is grappling with social media. The growth in e-churches is challeng-
ing the notion of ‘church’ as a physical gathering of persons, in a particular
physical space, that is both the focus of and the means by which community
is sustained.
This burgeoning field of digital media has been assessed mostly within North
American communication studies and sociology of religion (in particular by
Heidi Campbell, Gordon Lynch, Stewart Hoover and Pauline Cheong who look
at how religious groups view and use such media); there has also been some
similar work done that is more focused on Europe and UK, by CODEC Research
Centre for Digital Theology at the University of Durham and Tim Hutchings in
particular.4 Work in digital theology tends to survey current use of digital tech-
nology, focus optimistically on the perceived need to engage with social media
in order to be culturally relevant and to evangelize and/or warn against idola-
try of technology and the dangers of isolation and addiction, while attempting
to address what it means to be a person of faith in a digital age.5 While such
works represent significant developments in the field, there is more to be done
from the perspectives of philosophical and public theology.
Public theology frequently draws on the three publics as put forward
by David Tracy—academy, church, society—and is concerned with the

4 For more information on CODEC, go to <http://www.dur.ac.uk/codec> [accessed 21 October

2014].
5 See, for example, Barry Taylor, Entertainment Theology: Exploring Spirituality in a Digital
Democracy (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008); Justin Wise, The Social Church: A
Theology of Digital Communication, new edn (Chicago: Moody Publishers, 2014); Brandon
Vogt, The Church and New Media: Blogging Converts, Online Activists and Bishops Who Tweet
(Huntington: Our Sunday Visitor, 2011); Elmer Towns and Todd Mullins, Online Churches:
An Extensive Analysis and Application (Lynchburg: Liberty University Press, 2014); Kimberly
Young and Patrice Klausing, Breaking Free of the Web: Catholics and Internet Addiction
(Cincinnati: Franciscan Media, 2007); Derek C. Schuurman, Shaping a Digital World: Faith,
Culture and Computer Technology (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2013); Douglas Estes,
SimChurch: Being the Church in the Virtual World (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2009); Jesse
Rice, The Church of Facebook: How the Hyperconnected are Redefining Community (Colorado
Springs: David C. Cook, 2009); Jonah Lynch, The Scent of Lemons (London: Darton, Longman
and Todd, 2012); Dwight J. Friesen, Thy Kingdom Connected (Grand Rapids: Baker Books,
2009); Jana Marguerite Bennett, Aquinas on the Web? Doing Theology in an Internet Age
(London and New York: T. & T. Clark, 2012).

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134 mcintosh

c­ ommunication of theological ideas across these publics.6 Further, Sebastian

Kim suggests that there are ‘six main players in the public sphere in contem-
porary society: the state, the market, the media, the academy, civil society and
religious communities’.7 Of particular interest to public theology, then, is the
discussion concerning whether social media is properly referred to as another
‘public’, a public sphere or a public space. Theological conversation can and
does happen online, and, in this sense, even if it lacks the depth of more formal
academic theology, the internet definitely represents a space for God-talk, but
this is not sufficient to constitute a public sphere. Borrowing from Habermas,
Jodi Dean states: ‘the public sphere is the site and subject of liberal democratic
practice. It is that space within which people deliberate over matters of com-
mon concern, matters that are contested and about which it seems necessary
to reach a consensus’.8 While Habermas’ notion of a public sphere in which
social status is eradicated and citizens reach rational agreement has been
widely criticized as an ideal, since many groups find themselves excluded from
having their voices heard, the internet revives this idea of the public sphere
(only now citizens are operating as ‘netizens’). In theory, the internet prom-
ises greater opportunities for inclusion and participation in political democ-
racy, and in practice it has been the site of some political activism through,
for example, change.org and the hacking and ‘bombing’ of corporation web-
sites. Nevertheless, it is also the case that access to the internet is limited to a
small fraction of the world’s population and much of the discussion that takes
place online is inane and/or not democratic but racist, sexist and engaged in
the expression of vitriolic rage (known as ‘flaming’) rather than rational dis-
course aimed at reaching agreement. We are currently seeing the internet
being used as a tool in the radicalization of young persons by IS (ISIS/ISIL),
who then find the reality in Syria to be vastly more terrifying than they had
imagined. In practice, the Net is subject to the same power play and commer-
cial influence as the rest of capitalist culture; its focus is entertainment and
advertising revenue, with those who have the financial backing able to pay for

6 David Tracy, The Analogical Imagination: Christian Theology and the Culture of Pluralism
(London: SCM, 1981), p. 5; see also, for example, John W. de Gruchy, ‘Public Theology as
Christian Witness: Exploring the Genre’, International Journal of Public Theology, 1:1 (2007),
26–41.
7 Sebastian Kim, ‘Editorial’, International Journal of Public Theology, 6:2 (2012), 131–6 at 132.
8 Jodi Dean, ‘Why is the Net not a Public Sphere’, Constellations, 10:1 (2003), 95–112 at 95; see
also Jürgen Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into
a Category of Bourgeois Society, trans. Thomas Burger (Cambridge: Polity, 1989 [original in
German, 1962]).

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websites and airtime to promote their own agendas. Hence, Dean states that
the Net is the ‘ideology of publicity in service of communicative capitalism’;9
as such, it is a public space, but not a public sphere.
Alternatively, in terms of the classical estates of the realm, networked indi-
viduals (especially bloggers and online journalists) may be seen as constitut-
ing a fifth estate in addition to the four estates of clergy, nobility, commoners
and media (in the form of print journalism). As the fifth estate, netizens exist
outside of mainstream power structures and institutions, whether as terrorists,
campaigners for justice or politically indifferent citizens, and in this sense may
constitute another ‘public’. Indeed, it is this ability to exist outside of mainline
religious institutions that is significant for public theology.
While Davie suggests that Britons believe without belonging, Callum Brown’s
research identifies a ‘steady growth’ in the UK of those who regard themselves
as having no religion ‘from 1983 (when it stood at 31.6% of adult population)’
to over fifty per cent in 2009.10 Thus, by drawing on the work of Campbell and
others, in this article, I focus on the notion of community in relation to online
religious activity in order to discover the sense in which this new public space
represents a significant challenge to Christianity (and other religions) in the
form of communication and mediation, the realities and possibilities of virtual
church, issues of moral behaviour online, and religious practices and activities
that take place outside of a singular religious belief system. In fact, while reli-
gious extremism constitutes a minority off- and online, religious activity on the
Net is engaged in by those who have no fixed religious beliefs and those who
borrow from a multiplicity of belief systems, because it increases the possibili-
ties of belonging without believing (rather than believing without belonging).
In what follows, I will use the phrase ‘traditional church’ to refer to main-
stream Christian practice, characterized by weekly services in a designated
(church) building, involving singing, praying, a sermon from an ordained
leader, as well as the regular (but not necessarily weekly) sacramental rituals of
communion/Eucharist and baptism (whether of adults or infants). Admittedly,
the Roman Catholic Church has a greater number of sacraments, Quaker prac-
tice is less ritualistic and house churches are less focused on a designated
building, but the aforementioned description will suffice for the majority of
mainstream Christian practice. Furthermore, I am using the basic definition
of ‘church’ derived from the Greek ekklēsia, namely a public gathering of
believers whose aim is friendship and social action. While this definition of

9 Dean, ‘Why is the Net not a Public Sphere’, 98.

10 Callum G. Brown, ‘The People of “No Religion”: The Demographics of Secularisation in the
English-Speaking World Since c. 1900’, Archiv für Sozialgeschichte, 51 (2011), 37–61 at 56.

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136 mcintosh

church has a well-established provenance in Christianity, at various periods

the focus on individual spirituality has been more prominent than action for
social justice; thus, at the 2013 meeting in Rome of the current Archbishop of
Canterbury, Justin Welby, and Pope Francis, the emphasis on friendship and
social justice was revived.11

Communication and Mediation

With the decline in traditional church attendance, Christian churches are

increasingly seeking to communicate their message over the internet. In this
respect, there is a distinction to be made between online religion and religion
online. Religion online, Rachel Wagner explains, is the passive communication
of information about beliefs, services and so on, whereas online religion goes
further than this and includes active participation in virtual religious activities
such as discussion, prayer and other forms of worship.12 In many cases, reli-
gious groups that use the internet not only blur the distinction between online
and offline religion by having an online and an offline presence, they also blur
the distinction between online religion and religion online by engaging in
both. Particularly among the more evangelical Protestant churches, there is an
assumption that they should and must use digital media, as Wilson and Moore
insist: ‘[t]he more digital, participatory, and immersive, the better’.13
However, the drive to get online is not matched by a corresponding analysis
of the effects of so doing; neither the effect of mediating the Christian message
through digital technology, nor the possible distortions of that message that
media and especially digital media make possible are analysed fully. This lack of
analysis, Peter Horsfield suggests, is due to an historical understanding (or mis-
understanding) of media as ‘instruments for carrying ideas after theologians

11 The meeting took place at Vatican City on 14 June 2013; their addresses to each other can
be read at ‘Archbishop Justin Meets Pope Francis in Rome’ (14 June 2013), Justin Welby The
Archbishop of Canterbury, <http://www.archbishopofcanterbury.org/articles.php/5076/
archbishop-justin-meets-pope-francis-in-rome> [accessed 22 October 2014].
12 Rachel Wagner, Godwired: Religion, Ritual and Virtual Reality (Abingdon and New York:
Routledge, 2012), p. 133.
13 L. Wilson and J. Moore, The Wired Church 2.0, illustrated edn (Nashville: Abingdon Press,
2008), as cited by Stefan Gelfgren, ‘“Let There be Digital Networks and God Will Provide
Growth?” Comparing Aims and Hopes of 19th-Century and Post-Millennial Christianity’,
in Pauline Hope Cheong, Peter Fischer-Nielsen, Stefan Gelfgren and Charles Ess, eds,
Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture: Perspectives, Practices and Futures (New York:
Peter Lang, 2012), pp. 228–42 at p. 235.

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have constructed them’.14 On the contrary, theology is shaped by its mediation.

Nevertheless, theology has always been mediated. Traditional church services
rely on the church leader and the sacraments to mediate the Christian mes-
sage; hence, the church is always engaged in mediation. Moreover, technology
has played a large part in that mediation—from the written word to radio and
television—the digital is just the latest form of technological mediation. Thus,
Clint Schnekloth argues that we should view ‘digital media as ministry, rather
than as tools to communicate about ministry’.15
Such communication, however, needs to be well constructed and shared.
Admittedly, as institutional affiliation has dwindled, churches have had rea-
sonable grounds for assuming that digital media is essential for connecting
with people, but the internet does not necessarily make it easier to reach
them. While the use of new media can give religious leaders access to a wide
audience, and in this sense, an increased opportunity to speak with authority,
overall, digital mediation reduces the authority of traditional texts and leaders.
Religious plurality on the World Wide Web and the lack of any one monopoly
offers the consumer a great deal of choice. Hence, the religious consumer has
access to searchable texts and commentaries and is bombarded with multi-
ple voices. At the same time, the ease with which web content can be created
and uploaded often means that the searcher is overwhelmed by poor quality,
unhelpful material. Given these factors, the user may be more interested in
the relevance and usefulness of material than in its authority or consistency;
consequently, when choosing where and when to grant authority, the user may
be drawn in by a leader’s personality rather than by his or her formal qualifica-
tions. Thus, while an online presence can give a religious group a certain brand
value (which is especially useful for megachurches and emerging churches),
it will be lost if it does not stand out from the crowd. Indeed, as Musa and
Ahmadu state: ‘If others cannot distinguish between the spirituality of the
Christian faith and that of other faiths, it is a failure of how the churches’ story
is being told in the new environment of multiple voices and sources’.16

14 Peter Horsfield, ‘“A Moderate Diversity of Books?” The Challenge of New Media to the
Practice of Christian Theology’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital
Religion, Social Media and Culture, pp. 243–58 at p. 246.
15 Clint Schnekloth, ‘Virtual Church’, Word and World, 32:3 (2012), 245–51 at 249 (original
italics).
16 Bala A. Musa and Ibrahim M. Ahmadu, ‘New Media, Wikifaith and Church Brandversation:
A Media Ecology Perspective’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital
Religion, Social Media and Culture, pp. 63–80 at p. 75.

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138 mcintosh

Whether we resist or embrace new media, it is here and religion is changed

by it. Since the development of interactive Web 2.0 technology (around 2005),
the user has been able to be a participant and co-creator of web content; this
has led to the hybrid terms ‘produser’17 and ‘prosumer’18 to express the com-
bined notion of being both a producer and a consumer. In religious circles
then, this means that faith has become ‘wikifaith’ and religion has become
‘religion 2.0’,19 collaboratively constructed and edited online by multiple users.
One striking example of digital mediation is found among Colorado Bible
College students who celebrate online communion and have engaged in an
online discussion with the college staff about whether this is an appropriate
enactment of a central Christian ritual.20 In part, an answer to their discus-
sion would have to consider the purpose of offline communion—namely to
remember Jesus’ death and the promise of salvation—and whether this can be
achieved online. While there are additional benefits to be found in offline cele-
bration of the communion, there is no tangible reason why remembrance can-
not take place online, and, hence, there is no indisputable reason for opposing
the practice. Indeed, online communion is not so different from the commu-
nion services that are broadcast over the radio in both Catholic and Protestant
traditions. In addition, there may be very little difference between taking com-
munion collectively but individually in a church building and taking it alone
but simultaneously in separate living rooms and bedrooms.
Moreover, as Jeffrey Mahan explains: ‘lay and folk movements have long
created mediations that contested with religious authorities to shape practice
and doctrine’.21 Thus, while a religion that adapts to changing media finds it
is changed in form and content, it will also find that it gains social power.22
Besides, Christianity has already been changed by media, in ways that were
contested at the time but do not seem so threatening now. With the advent
of the printing press, sacred texts became accessible for educated lay people,
which also led to greater individual freedom in the interpretation of those

17 A. Bruns, Blogs, Wikipedia, Second Life, and Beyond: From Production to Produsage (New
York: Peter Lang, 2008).
18 Musa and Ahmadu, ‘New Media, Wikifaith and Church Brandversation’, in Cheong,
Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, pp.
63–80 at p. 70.
19 See Pauline Hope Cheong and Charles Ess, ‘Introduction: Religion 2.0? Relational and
Hybridizing Pathways in Religion, Social Media, and Culture’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen,
Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, pp. 1–21 at p. 2.
20 See Jeffrey H. Mahan, ‘Religion and Media’, Religion Compass, 6:1 (2012), 14–25 at 14.
21 Ibid., 17.
22 Ibid., 18.

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texts. Clement of Alexandria describes the objection to replacing oral trans-

mission with the written word as follows:

The living voice was the best medium for the communication of Christian
truth. Writings were public and it was wrong to cast pearls before swine.
To write implied that one was inspired by the Holy Spirit and this was a
presumptuous claim. If one must write, it were better that one should
write badly. The heretics had shown that a clever style could mislead and
corrupt.23

Clement’s response to the objection is that it is better to be in control of

what is being written than to leave the writing to those who might misuse it.
Admittedly, written text gives a certain stability to beliefs, but over time its
cultural references are obscured and it needs reinterpreting.
With further advances in technology, Christianity entered the era of radio
and television evangelism, which produced another dramatic change. Since
radio and television have listeners and viewers rather than participants, and
they are more concerned with entertainment than with interaction, they
rendered religion more passive than active. Similarly, the development of
confession and prayer ‘apps’ for smartphones may do more to appease the
user than to encourage engagement with a religious community or genuine
repentance and a change of lifestyle. Yet, with the advent of the internet and
social networking media, it is possible for religiously interested individuals
to be actively involved in religious activities and discussions. Thus, we have
entered a dynamic era in which the individual is free to construct her or his
religious identity online. In fact, in constructing an online religious-self, the
user is able to pick and choose aspects of different religions and denomina-
tions, as opposed to having to be a confirmed member of just one religion or
denomination. As Linda Woodhead’s recent research confirms, we are in a
‘new era of post-traditional religious identity’ in which the popularity of hold-
ing multiple religious affiliations is growing.24 In this sense, then, the user is

23 Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis, first ch, as cited by Peter Horsfield, ‘Electronic

Media and the Past-Future of Christianity’, in Jolyon Mitchell and Sophia Marriage, eds,
Mediating Religion: Conversations in Media, Religion and Culture (London and New York:
T.&T. Clark/Continuum, 2003), pp. 271–82 at pp. 276–7.
24 Linda Woodhead’s keynote presentation at ‘Practical Theology and Public Life’ con­
sultation, University of Birmingham, 28 February 2013, drawing on information published
in L. Woodhead and R. Catto, eds, Religion and Change in Modern Britain (Abingdon and
New York: Routledge, 2012).

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140 mcintosh

empowered to find alternative beliefs and practices that make sense for him
or her, as opposed to accepting the beliefs handed down by parents and peers.
Nevertheless, as Mahan reveals, many adult believers are seeking out beliefs
and practices that confirm views they already hold, rather than engaging with
beliefs and practices that contest those views.25
Teenagers, however, while sharing more than ever before on social network-
ing media—such as relationship status, likes and dislikes, menus and moods—
do not engage equally in such a public and open discussion of religion and
religious issues. A US study in 2011 revealed that, while 62 per cent of users
self-identify as religious on social media, only 30 per cent engage in online dia-
logue on religious topics. In addition, the researchers found that 15–30 per cent
of users self-identify as ‘spiritual’ rather than religious, while among members
of Protestant denominations there was a trend for choosing ‘Christian-other’
(58 per cent of those self-identifying as religious) from a drop down menu,
rather than ‘Protestant’.26 By comparing the information on social media with
that given on paper questionnaires, the researchers confirmed that those who
identified as ‘spiritual’ online, expressed negative views towards organized reli-
gion offline and/or viewed religion as something private rather than public. By
not being involved in discussions around religious topics, though, those who
view religion as private are also not involved in the shaping of religious iden-
tity in the public sphere. As we may expect, discussion of religious views and
activities online occurs most among those who are part of a large network of
evangelical Protestants and who believe that proselytizing is a tenet of their
faith; yet, despite their open engagement with public discourse on religion, the
preference for ‘Christian-other’ over ‘Protestant’ gives rise to questions about
religious literacy.
Furthermore, Mark Johns reveals that religious groups attracting large num-
bers of persons prepared to make a religious declaration on social network-
ing media are not actually facilitating dialogue or increasing religious activity.27
Hence, church leaders who justify their online presence by claiming that it is a

25 Mahan, ‘Religion and Media’, at 22.

26 See Piotr S. Bobkowski and Lisa D. Pearce, ‘Baring their Souls in Online Profiles or Not?
Religious Self-Disclosure in Social Media’, Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 50:4
(2011), 744–62 (they are primarily referring to MySpace, which was more popular than
Facebook at the time of their research).
27 Mark D. Johns, ‘Voting “Present”: Religious Organizational Groups on Facebook’, in
Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture,
pp. 151–68 at pp. 153–63.

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belonging without believing 141

means of staying relevant should consider whether collecting Facebook ‘likes’

really has any value.

Communication Theology

Nevertheless, church leaders do need to understand the significance and pos-

sibilities inherent in new media. For centuries, theology has been in the hands
of a small group of authoritative voices, a literate elite, who have focussed on
producing consistent statements of faith and on disseminating their theology
through commercially published books. At the moment, the availability of
digital media is challenging this method of knowledge transfer; digital text is
more fluid and easily altered than printed matter and can be manipulated by
the user. Thus, Bailey and Storch state:

There is a new passion for authentic communication. People want to be

part of an open and honest conversation . . . One-way communication
is no longer enough . . . [People] are looking for those who are willing
to open the door and let others inside. Blogging is a revolution in com-
munication, community, and authentic conversation; a revolution that
churches cannot afford to ignore.28

Clearly, online communication has interactive value, but Bailey and Storch
do not pause to discuss whether this is really an indication of ‘authentic
communication’. Since online identity is deliberately constructed so as to pres-
ent the self in a certain way, it is much easier to present pseudo-beliefs and a
pseudo-persona online than it would be in face-to-face contact. Rather than
‘open and honest conversation’ then, digital media may mean having to deal
with aggressive posts and dishonest blogs.
We need, therefore, a ‘communication theology’.29 As Avery Dulles insists:
‘theology is at every point concerned with the realities of communication’.30
He bases this claim on the Trinitarian conception of a self-communicating,

28 B. Bailey and T. Storch, The Blogging Church (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2007), as cited
by Gelfgren, ‘“Let There be Digital Networks and God Will Provide Growth?”’, in Cheong,
Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, at p. 237.
29 Frances Forde-Plude is a pioneer in this field, see <http://www.francesplude.org>
[accessed 26 August 2014].
30 Avery Dulles, The Craft of Theology: From Symbol to System (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan,
1992), p. 22.

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relational God, stating: ‘Because Christianity is the religion of the triune God,
it is pre-eminently a religion of communication’.31 Evidently, today’s society is
information and technology based with several reports claiming that couples
spend more time on their smartphones than in personal conversation.32 Thus,
if the church is to be effective in communicating its message, it must engage
with the contemporary culture by using new media. Nevertheless, it is not
sufficient to appoint a technologically-skilled individual; the different forms
of offline and online communication employed by the church need to come
together to form a common vision and to avoid unnecessary duplication and
inconsistency.
Social networking media sites, such as Facebook—which took only nine
months to reach 100 million users,33 and has been the largest social network-
ing site since 200834—do have a role in contemporary communication, but
their primary focus is relationship management. Alternatively, blogs and
microblogs, such as Twitter—‘the ninth most popular site in the world’35—are
better at capturing shared interests. On Twitter religious communication can
spread with previously unimaginable rapidity through retweets and the use of
hashtags to flag and group themed posts. For example, when ordinand Adam
Walker Cleaveland set his followers (tweeps) the task of composing a state-
ment of faith in less than 140 characters, using the hashtag #TOF (Twitter of
Faith) the thread went viral within days.36 Similarly, #pray4 enables instant
communication of prayer requests and, for the tweeter, an imagined (in the
sense that it cannot be seen) community of people praying.
Rick Warren, founder of conservative megachurch (Saddleback Church)
in California is a prolific tweeter and has amassed over 300,000 Twitter

31 Ibid.
32 See, for example, Jonathan Freedland, ‘Are Smartphones Causing a Bonking Crisis?’, The
Guardian, 26 November 2013; Carolyn Gregoire, ‘Too Much Texting Could be Harming
Your Love Life, Study Finds’, Huffington Post, 11 January 2014; Richard Alleyne, ‘Mobile
Phone Addiction Ruining Relationships’, The Telegraph, 30 November 2012.
33 See Gelfgren, ‘“Let There be Digital Networks and God Will Provide Growth?”’, in Cheong,
Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, at p. 234.
34 See Johns, ‘Voting “Present”’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital
Religion, Social Media and Culture, at p. 152.
35 Pauline Hope Cheong, ‘Twitter of Faith: Understanding Social Media New Working and
Microblogging Rituals as Religious Practices’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and
Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, pp. 191–206 at p. 191.
36 See ibid., p. 194.

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followers.37 His success as a microblogger is based on his ability to write pro-

vocative sound-bites (such as: ‘Have you noticed that everyone who favours
abortion is alive?’)38 that are speedily and repeatedly retweeted. Other inno-
vative uses of Twitter for faith-oriented communication include the Passion
Play of Wall Street’s Trinity Church in New York: over several hours on Good
Friday followers received tweets from Jesus, Peter, Pontius Pilate, Mary, Joseph
and so on.39
At its best, therefore, it seems that new media enables fast, creative and
far-reaching communication that may revitalize shared religious views; at its
worst, though, it encourages narcissism and is used to spread militant and
fundamentalist opinions. Abusive posts have forced many churches to shut
down open ‘walls’ and to exert tighter controls over the interactive features of
Web 2.0 technology.40 During the unusually lengthy period of wintry weather
in the first few months of 2013, several media reports circulated sharing the
news that Reverend Isaac Poobalan of St John’s Episcopal Church in Aberdeen,
Scotland had invited Muslims to come into the church building for their
prayers. Reverend Poobalan had seen the Muslims praying barefoot in the frost,
because the Crown Street Mosque around the corner from the church was too
small to hold them all. Yet, almost as soon as the news was shared, Reverend
Poobalan revealed that he was being abused on the church’s Facebook page, by
Christians who disapproved of his actions.41
Hence, digital communication is not enough in itself; communication that
takes Trinitarian relational theology seriously needs to focus on building and
sustaining community, not merely on sharing information.

37 See ibid., p. 199.

38 @RickWarren 4:06pm, 6 December 2010, as cited by Cheong, ‘Twitter of Faith’, in Cheong,
Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, at p. 200.
39 See Cheong, ‘Twitter of Faith’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital
Religion, Social Media and Culture, at p. 200.
40 For example, the Roman Catholic Church removed the comment feature from the Vatican
YouTube channel and the coordinator of ‘The Bible’ Facebook page closed its open wall
after a ‘vicious and sustained’ attack (see Gelfgren, ‘“Let There be Digital Networks and
God Will Provide Growth?”’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital
Religion, Social Media and Culture, at pp. 236–7).
41 See Julian Bond, ‘Facebook teaches us many things, but not necessarily how to be loving
towards each other’ (22 March 2013), <http://www.christianmuslimforum.org/index.php/
news/175-facebook-teaches-us-many-things> [accessed 26 January 2014]. Rev Poobalan’s
actions were also reported on the BBC and in the Guardian, and the trolls were also
reported on Huffington Post.

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Community—Online and Offline

We might wonder, then, how we are to define ‘community’ in the digital age,
since it is not confined to face-to-face interaction and the notion of ubuntu.
Wagner states that online social networking ‘is a pervasive form of connection,
at least potentially capable of nurturing relationships and creating a sense of
community’.42 She goes on to claim that the move from merely networking to
achieving a sense of community is to be found in the users’ levels of ‘emotional
investment and commitment’.43 On the one hand, a user may well experience
a greater sense of connectedness sitting alone at their computer screen and
logging in to discussions and groups to which they feel a deep attachment than
sitting in a church full of people with whom they feel little connection. On
the other hand, the user may be communicating with sophisticated ‘chat-bots’
without realizing that there are no real persons behind the profiles and avatars.
Consequently, it is not surprising that, for Graham Ward, for example, the
possibility of virtual community represents a lamentable shift towards a less
embodied Christian community.44 Alternatively, though, in a somewhat con-
tentious article published in 2012, Nicholas Healy argues that even in an offline
context there is no Christian community. He claims that, since Christians could
pass each other on the street and not know that they shared a faith, it does
not make sense to speak of Christian community.45 Furthermore, citing David
Martin, he claims that the Christian ‘emphasis on “community” corresponds to
a shrinkage in the constituency of persons influenced by the church’ and ‘owes
a great deal to a middle-class nostalgia about lost community’.46
As we have already noted, the influence of mainstream churches has been
in steady decline, but Healy seems to be throwing the baby out with the bath
water; after all language is fluid and perhaps we need to reassess the mean-
ing of community in light of the geographical spread and, at times, the ano-
nymity of Christian belief. Further, while some of those who claim that digital
media leads to a loss of community may be driven by ‘middle-class nostalgia’,
there is plenty of sociological evidence that local social cohesion is being

42 Wagner, Godwired, p. 127.

43 Ibid., p. 134.
44 Graham Ward, Cultural Transformation and Religious Practice (Cambridge and New York:
Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 110; Graham Ward, ‘Between Virtue and Virtuality’,
Theology Today, 59:1 (2002), 55–70.
45 Nicholas M. Healy, ‘Why There is No Christian Community’, Christian Century (16 May
2012), 26–31 at 28.
46 Ibid., 27.

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belonging without believing 145

eroded, as Hogan and Wellman state: ‘Communities—both in the flesh and

in the ether—are far-flung, loosely bounded, sparsely knit, and fragmentary.
Most people operate in multiple partial communities as they deal with shift-
ing, amorphous networks of kin, neighbors, friends, workmates, and organiza-
tional ties’.47 Nevertheless, online activity can enhance a sense of community
by reinvigorating dated religious practice, promoting religious activities and
rendering religious faith more credible today.48 We should not abandon the
term community then, but, as Hutchings suggests, we need a new understand-
ing of authentic community that incorporates self-constructed networks.49
Part of the debate surrounding online community is bound up with the
notion of friendship. It is easy to claim, on the one hand, that Facebook has
rendered the term ‘friend’ devoid of meaning, because Facebook users can
collect ‘friends’ at the click of a button, ‘friends’ who may be mere acquain-
tances or may even be people they have never met. According to the US-based
Pew Research Center’s project on ‘Teens and Technology’, the average number
of ‘friends’ on a teenager’s Facebook account as reported in May last year is
around three hundred.50
On the other hand, social networking media has made it much easier to
rekindle and maintain deep friendships with historical friends, with whom we
may have lost touch, due to geographical distance and the passage of time,
and with whom we may have very little face-to-face contact. Similarly, for large
or emerging churches, Facebook can connect ordained leaders with their
church members and thus assist in maintaining a sense of community. As one
Danish Pastor explains: ‘Meeting more than one hundred church attendants
in church every Sunday, it is impossible to talk to everyone in person, but the
Facebook interaction during the week can compensate for this’.51

47 Bernie Hogan and Barry Wellman, ‘The Immanent Internet Redux’, in Cheong, Fischer-
Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, pp. 43–62 at pp.
55–6.
48 See Heidi A. Campbell, When Religion Meets New Media (Abingdon and New York:
Routledge, 2010), p. 38.
49 Tim Hutchings, ‘Creating Church Online: Networks and Collectives in Contemporary
Christianity’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social
Media and Culture, pp. 207–23 at p. 221.
50 Pew Internet and American Life Project, ‘Teens: Median Number of Facebook Friends’
(21 May 2013), Pew Research Center, <http://www.pewinternet.org/Infographics/2013/
Teens-Median-number-of-Facebook-friends.aspx> [accessed 23 August 2013].
51 Stine Lomborg and Charles Ess, ‘ “Keeping the Line Open and Warm”: An Activist Danish
Church and Its Presence on Facebook’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds,
Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, pp. 169–90 at p. 178.

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146 mcintosh

Hence, the ability to share our lives over the internet makes it possible to
know more about each other even when we do not see one another, so that
when/if we do meet in person, we do not meet as strangers. Nevertheless,
I believe there is still a distinction to be made between knowing about someone
and actually knowing them, the latter of which only comes from spending
time together.

Virtual Church

In conjunction with social networking media, we also need to assess ‘commu-

nity’ among the varied instances of online church. At first glance, the increas-
ing number of online churches presents a particular challenge for parishes
that have previously been centred around a church building, and for religious
practitioners who have a real and a theological attachment to a physical build-
ing. As Richard Vosko states: ‘One of the most tangible expressions of faith is
religious architecture . . . diverse sacred places serve as avenues to the experi-
ence of the holy’.52 It does seem to be true that no matter how well a virtual
church is constructed, no matter how accurately it depicts, for example, an
actual cathedral, no matter how cleverly it employs the latest 3D technology,
the simple absence of scale that is necessary for the building to appear on a
smartphone or computer screen will result in a diminished encounter with the
architecture of that building, and in many cases that may mean the loss of awe
and wonder that is akin to an experience of the holy. (Although the technology
may be awe-inspiring in a different way.)53
Nevertheless, this is not a criticism that is solely applied to the virtual
church; it has also been levelled at modern church buildings. Likewise, a vari-
ety of modern worship styles, when compared with traditional liturgies and
hymns, have been accused of reducing the capacity for reverence; as has the
use of the vernacular instead of Latin, and reading from modern versions of
the Bible instead of from the Authorised King James version. Yet, with each of
these developments the argument in favour of change claimed that out of date
symbolism, rituals and language alienated the people it was meant to serve and

52 Richard S. Vosko, ‘Liturgical Technology, Social Media, and the Green Church’, Liturgical
Ministry, 20 (2011), 87–92 at 87.
53 While a sense of amazement may ensue from technologically created digital worlds, it is
a sense of awe at human ability rather than a sense of our smallness and insignificance in
relation to a bigger picture; although that too gives some an experience of the holy, it may
equally result in an overinflated view of human importance.

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obscured the meaning it had once conveyed. Thus, in response to the claim
that the increasing use of technology results in a ‘theologically light’ delivery
of the Christian message, Vosko suggests that it is, at least, better at capturing
the imagination of the contemporary audience, and ‘foster[ing] more partici-
pation by congregation members by engaging more of their senses’.54 With live
streaming, the ‘congregation is no longer confined to one meeting place; it now
exists virtually everywhere’,55 and the church leader has to imagine the audi-
ence s/he is addressing. Despite the possibilities, Vosko cautions, simulcasting
of a church service ‘does not seem appropriate in churches that promote inter-
personal relationships with God and other human beings’.56
With the aim of participation in mind, the Church of England has offi-
cially sanctioned an i-church, currently led by Priest Pam Smith, as part of
the Diocese of Oxford.57 Real names have to be used when joining i-church
to enhance the notion of getting to know the other members, in contrast with
the experience of the first 3D online church, Church of Fools, founded by
Methodists in the UK in 2004, which invited the use of avatars but was plagued
by trolls. While i-church employs a traditional understanding of community,
namely one that limits the size of its membership and maintains local interac-
tion, it has experienced pressure to accept global participants.58 Alternatively,
LifeChurch.tv’s Church Online has a much looser definition of community
and favours the broadest reach; in fact, it has invested in Google AdWords so
that typing pornographic terms into a web browser’s search engine will cause
the church’s advertisements to pop-up.59 Moreover, the free 3D virtual world
‘Second Life’ includes an Anglican Cathedral, where, since 2007, avatars can
take part in religious services, and for which Mark Brown, known in Second
Life as Arkin Ariantho, was ordained. He was ordained specifically for carrying
out virtual ministry before he was ordained in the real world in New Zealand
and could conduct a service in a physical church building.60 Despite this ordi-
nation discrepancy, the seeking of Church of England approval for Anglican
services in Second Life denotes the seriousness with which services in Second
Life are regarded by their ministerial team: they hold that this is real ministry

54 Vosko, ‘Liturgical Technology, Social Media, and the Green Church’, at 89.
55 Ibid., 91.
56 Ibid., 90.
57 Campbell, When Religion Meets New Media, p. 141 and p. 124.
58 See Hutchings, ‘Creating Church Online’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess,
eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, at p. 211.
59 Ibid., p. 212.
60 Campbell, When Religion Meets New Media, p. 126.

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and real church.61 (Mark/Arkin retired from leadership of Anglicans in Second

Life in 2009, but is still involved in the ministry team in an advisory capacity).
Interestingly, Jørgen Straarup suggests that avatar religion, while avant-
garde, should be viewed positively as a ‘turn towards community’.62 That is,
while the agent who sends his/her avatar on a religious journey may be moti-
vated by real world loneliness and/or disappointment with real world religion,
in embarking on a virtual religious quest, s/he ‘may identify a road or path
back to community’.63 Furthermore, if we feel uncomfortable with the notion
of worshipping as avatars, Schnekloth forces us to consider whether we have
justifiable grounds for feeling so.64 He questions whether the activities that
take place in an online prayer chapel are any less significant than prayers in a
physical building, and he implies that the activities are not even diminished
if the online gathering is conducted by avatars in Second Life.65 Since, as we
have mentioned, all church services rely on a mediated message—mediated
through the church leader and the sacraments—there is a sense in which the
Christian message is always virtual. Similarly, Ellen Charry argues that the
notion of salvation is like a virtual identity, and one that allows the bearer to
escape the social confines and the pervasiveness of consumerism that domi-
nate everyday life.66 Considered in this way, the dichotomy between the virtual
church and the real church is reduced: the church is always engaged in mediat-
ing a virtual message, but with web-based mediation both the mediator and
the message are virtual.

The Moral Imperative of Digital Media

Positively, online churches allow for greater social inclusion, emotional sup-
port and accessibility for those who are housebound or who have not been
welcomed in a physical church but wish to engage in religious activities and be

61 See, for example, Helene Milena, ‘Proposed Constitution of AoSL’, The Anglican Cathedral
of Second Life, <http://slangcath.wordpress.com/2010/07/13/proposed-constitution-
of-aosl/> [accessed 21 October 2014]. Mark Brown’s virtual services can be accessed at
<http://slangcath.wordpress.com/author/bsnzceo/> [accessed 21 October 2014].
62 Jørgen Straarup, ‘When Pinocchio Goes to Church: Exploring an Avatar Religion’, in
Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture,
pp. 97–111 at p. 97.
63 Ibid., at p. 106.
64 Schnekloth, ‘Virtual Church’, at 245.
65 Ibid., 246.
66 Ellen Charry, ‘Virtual Salvation’, Theology Today, 61:3 (2004), 334–46.

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part of a religious community. In its favour, logging in from home gives users
the ability to apply individual settings for their comfort and ease of use; it also
allows users to join a variety of religious networks and construct a multifaceted
religious identity. In addition, freedom from physical buildings reduces costs
and enables diasporic communities to stay connected.
Clearly members of online churches do have a sense of community, but we
need to ask whether a sense of community is sufficient to constitute commu-
nity. While religion in the virtual world has the opportunity to interact with
the secular, to be more open and less hierarchical than traditional church and
to capture a sense of being a global community, it runs the risk of being poorly
represented by participants posting on open forums and blogs. Pseudonymous
posts may have a liberating effect for those who are otherwise stigmatized
or silenced, but such posts may be incoherent, unhelpful or insulting. When
church leaders are seen to control posts, however, dialogue decreases and par-
ticipation is undermined. Similarly, while virtual worship is less demanding
than traditional church, since it does not require regular commitment or even
explicit beliefs, it may fail to challenge problematic views or to make connec-
tions between online activity and offline action. In short, online religion has
many benefits, but these come with significant drawbacks also. Mark Brown
may have been fulfilling a need by performing religious rituals in Second Life,
just as blogging may fulfil a human need to communicate, but the possibility
of anonymity and false identities, such as meeting as avatars, begs the question
as to whether genuine community can be found this way. Indeed, Hutchings’
research reveals that: ‘Successful long-term, high-commitment fellowship
groups . . . created online . . . remain rare’.67
More positively, Horsfield argues that virtual worlds are a safe place in which
to explore alternative realities and express hope.68 In fact, in keeping with
Schnekloth and Charry’s arguments on the virtuality of the Christian message,
Horsfield notes that Martin Luther King’s ‘I have a dream’ speech is an expres-
sion of a virtual reality, a vision of a transformed society in which there is
racial equality.69 On this basis, Horsfield suggests that assessment of the virtual
should be asking whether it is mere escapism or whether it is transforming the
actual world in positive ways.70 From the perspective of Trinitarian theology,

67 Hutchings, ‘Creating Church Online’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds,
Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, at p. 214.
68 Peter Horsfield, ‘Theology as a Virtualising Enterprise’, Colloquium, 37:2 (2005), 131–42
at 137.
69 Ibid., 137–8.
70 Ibid., 140.

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then, such transformation would mean that relationships are nurtured and
communication is enriched. Yet, digital media encourages objectification and
voyeurism; it makes it easy to seek and store information about others with-
out interacting with them personally. Further, as Lynne Baab notes, from the
perspective of Trinitarian theology, ‘sin’ is that which damages relationships,
which, in the context of the internet includes activity that disregards the dig-
nity and worth of the self or of others, either by posting self-absorbed and dis-
paraging comments or by posting threatening and offensive comments.71
Indeed, given the recent examples of woman-hating Twitter ‘trolls’ mak-
ing rape threats using fake ‘handles’ (names) and teenage suicides linked to
anonymous cyberbullying (even though there is insufficient evidence to prove
that cyberbullying is worse than playground bullying), any use religious com-
munities make of social media needs both to emphasize responsible use and
to challenge dehumanizing behaviour.72 As well as Twitter trolls, digital media
has enabled the promotion of stereotypical and distorted images of Islam and
the publication of invasive and personal photographs on the internet. We need
to ask, as Mary Hess does: ‘How might we reshape our practices . . . so that we
can enjoy the ways in which we can learn and grow with these media but also
challenge the more problematic or even destructive elements of “life lived with
a screen”?’73 In brief, we need an ethics of communication that incorporates
cyber ethics and seeks to uphold the moral claims of self and others.
We cannot simply retreat from digital media: the virtual world is here
to stay. Indeed, for those who have access to the technology (which in 2011
was 29% of the world’s population or 2 billion people),74 especially mobile
access through smartphones and portable computers, a strict division of real
and virtual worlds is no longer possible. Rather, life online is an extension of
life offline; human experience is being mediated through Facebook, Twitter,

71 Lynne M. Baab, ‘Toward a Theology of the Internet: Place, Relationship, and Sin’, in
Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture,
pp. 277–91 at pp. 286–8.
72 See, for example, Sam Jones, ‘Labour MP Stella Creasy Receives Twitter Rape Threats’, The
Guardian, 29 July 2013, <http://www.theguardian.com/technology/2013/jul/29/labour-
mp-stella-creasy-twitter-rape-threats> [accessed 23 August 2013]; Amanda Lenhardt,
‘British Teen’s Suicide Puts Cyber-Bullying Back in the Spotlight’ (21 August 2013), Pew
Research Center, <http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2013/08/21/british-teens-
suicide-puts-cyber-bullying-back-in-spotlight/> [accessed 23 August 2013].
73 Mary Hess, ‘Life On Screen and Other Musings on Faith, Food, and Media’, Word and
World, 32:3 (2012), 252–8 at 253.
74 See Cheong and Ess, ‘Introduction’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds,
Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, at p. 8.

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belonging without believing 151

Tumblr, Instagram and so on. As Knut Lundby asserts, the internet is ‘interwo-
ven into the fabric of everyday life’.75
It makes sense, therefore, for the church, as a social movement, to perform
its rituals where the people are, namely, on the internet. Drawing on Harald
Hegstad’s assertion that ‘the “real church” is not the one defined by theologi-
cal dogma but rather the empirical church, the community people experience
when they gather in the name of Jesus, with its hopes and faults’,76 Lundby
claims that ‘the virtual experience is part of the empirical “real” church’,
and, thus: ‘[t]he quality of church in virtual space and on the internet depends
on the relevance and credibility of its ongoing day-to-day interactions in
that realm’.77
I would argue, though, that the church’s online credibility depends at least
as much upon its interactions in the real world and on whether its virtual activ-
ity adds to those actions. A cyberchurch is, at most, a superficial community;
if we are to value others as ends in themselves rather than as means to our
ends, we need to offer practical help as well as emotional support, and to do
that we need face-to-face community. An ethical approach to internet activ-
ity, then, would prioritize flesh and blood relationships over cyber-relations.
Such a prioritizing would not only oppose the objectification of self and others
on the internet, it would also oppose the addictive and compulsive behaviour
that devotes more time to checking for updates and accumulating ‘likes’ and
retweets than it gives to personal conversation with family and friends. Our
online connectivity should exhibit the same respect for persons and relation-
ships that we aim towards in our offline interactions with others.

Belonging without Believing—Online and Offline

At its best, then, the virtual world allows churches to be less institutional
and hierarchical, resulting in greater democracy and dialogue. On the con-
trary, though, Fischer-Nielsen and Gelfgren’s research concludes that Web 2.0

75 Knut Lundby, ‘Dreams of Church in Cyberspace’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren

and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, pp. 25–41 at p. 32.
76 H. Hegstad, Den virkelige kirke. Bidrag til ekklesiologien (Trondheim: Tapir Akademiske
Forlag, 2009), p. 197), as cited by Lundby, ‘Dreams of Church in Cyberspace’, in Cheong,
Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, at p. 37
(original italics).
77 Lundby, ‘Dreams of Church in Cyberspace’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess,
eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, p. 37.

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technology has increased fragmentation and narrow-mindedness instead

of cultivating diversity and interreligious fellowship.78 Users are encouraged
to seek out websites that reinforce the views they hold already rather than
those that will challenge, critique and develop their beliefs. Christian groups
promote websites that are managed by like-minded Christians for other like-
minded Christians. Thus, by asserting an exclusively defined shared identity,
sectarianism is strengthened. In essence, doctrinal distinction is divisive and
inhibits community in both offline and online contexts.
On the one hand, then, with the relative ease of creating and broadcasting
posts, podcasts, discussions and streaming, digital media can be used to sup-
port self-obsession and to promote xenophobia and terrorism.79 Yet, on the
other hand, if a person’s real church is a megachurch with more than two thou-
sand members, social networking media may do more to integrate members
into the community than gatherings in the physical building. According to
Asamoah-Gyadu: ‘This [megachurch] perception of community goes against
the grain of conventional thinking that communities must be kept to man-
ageable sizes for people to have a sense of belonging . . . belonging to a large
“family” is what is important; being personally known is usually secondary’.80
He may well be right that some people find satisfaction in belonging to an
exceptionally large group, but we have to question what is meant by ‘belonging’
here and whether it is not also the case that members are hoping for personal
connection with at least some of the other members.
Moreover, while church Facebook pages and blogs may allow for a greater
number of connections and relationships to be made than is possible in face-
to-face contact, where this is the case, the bonds are fairly weak. Access to the
internet makes it easy to seek out alternative groups in a global arena, so that
without fostering local, real time relationships, loyalty to the group remains
minimal. Nevertheless, most churches (except for a few e-churches that have
no offline building) recognize the looseness of virtual connections and fre-
quently emphasize the need for face-to-face engagement. Hence, as Hutchings

78 Peter Fischer-Nielsen and Stefan Gelfgren, ‘Conclusion’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen,

Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social Media and Culture, pp. 293–305 at pp. 297–8.
79 For example, Tamil Tigers and Al Qaeda use Facebook and Twitter, see Liane Rothenberger,
‘Terrorist Groups: Using Internet and Social Media for Disseminating Ideas. New Tools for
Promoting Political Change’, Romanian Journal of Communication and Public Relations,
14:3 (2012), 7–23 and Robin L. Thompson, ‘Radicalization and the Use of Social Media’,
Journal of Strategic Security, 4:4 (2011), 167–90.
80 J. Kwabena Asamoah-Gyadu, ‘Community’, in David Morgan, ed, Key Words in Religion,
Media and Culture (New York and Abingdon; Routledge, 2008), pp. 56–68 at p. 62.

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reports, only a minority of online users have no connection with their local
offline congregation.81 Evidently, religious groups are increasingly using digital
media, and thus far this has largely supplemented rather than replaced their
offline activity.
Conversely, there is also a small but growing anti-technology backlash,
fuelled by Edward Snowden and the mass reports on the increasing use of GPS,
data tracking and face recognition that diminishes our privacy and forces a
reconsideration of the ethics of hacking.82 While social media has enabled
mass mobilization at the grass-roots, and thus contributed to the overthrow
of government, in Egypt for example, other power structures have remained
relatively unchallenged. While anyone who has the technology can set up a
Facebook or Twitter page with relative ease, it is still celebrities rather than
causes that amass the most followers. Given this continued reduction of self-
identity to mere commodity through the increased reporting of the personal
life in the public arena, online church leaders are faced with the difficulty of
balancing professionalism and accessibility. In addition, while social media
gives churches instant connectivity and a share in contemporary culture, such
new opportunities are accompanied by increasing competition, which means
that religion is also growing in commercialism, developing branding and sell-
ing strategies in an attempt to appeal to the individual consumer who has
access to a vast open market.
Further, since the decrease in traditional church attendance is being accom-
panied by a rise in online religion and an increase in those self-identifying as
having ‘no religion’, rather than Davie’s ‘believing without belonging’, it seems
that networked individuals prioritize belonging over believing. In as much as
the need to belong is an inherent part of human nature, the urge to engage
with new ways of belonging is not surprising, but it is vital religious groups rec-
ognize that online engagement is not synonymous with clearly defined beliefs
or exclusive and long-term commitment.
In my opinion, instead of simply rushing to amass online followers, religious
groups need to pause to consider that the widespread use of virtual networks is
more than an indication of technological advance, and is equally a clear state-
ment about the fragility of belonging. Whether or not an online community
is rightly referred to as such, the user’s search to find one is motivated more

81 Hutchings, ‘Creating Church Online: Networks and Collectives in Contemporary

Christianity’, in Cheong, Fischer-Nielsen, Gelfgren and Ess, eds, Digital Religion, Social
Media and Culture, at p. 221.
82 Perhaps we need to develop a theory of ‘just hacking’ to complement ‘just war’ theory;
I am indebted to John Clifton for this suggestion.

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by the very human need to belong than by shared religious belief. Part of the
appeal of belonging to a cyberchurch is that it makes it possible to engage
in religious activities without having to assent to particular religious beliefs.
In theory, the user can ‘do’ religion online, even partaking in a variety of reli-
gious practices from diverse traditions that would be considered incompatible
offline. Woodhead’s research confirms that ‘religious identity is now a complex
aspect of personal identity’.83 We are in an era in which informed choice has
overtaken previously inherited and largely unquestioned religious affiliation
and the wholesale acceptance of one religion or one denomination can no
longer be assumed. Membership of an online community, therefore, holds a
somewhat ambiguous status; the members may be flitting from one commu-
nity to another and the community’s leader cannot presume that members
share commitment or beliefs. Contemporary culture is driven more by a desire
to belong than by a drive to believe. Thus, despite the popularity of new digital
media and its networking potential, the desire to belong is being expressed in
new offline contexts too.
One especially intriguing example is Sunday Assembly, which was launched
in London in January 2013. When British comedians Sanderson Jones and Pippa
Evans started the London Sunday Assembly, their aim was to recreate the posi-
tive aspects of church without the negative ones: to recreate a free, inclusive,
multi-generational community while maintaining intellectual enquiry and
critique. At the outset, the founders had no idea that their vision would prove
so popular, but they quickly attracted four hundred participants, and in less
than a year, the movement had spread across the UK into Continental Europe,
the USA and Australia.84 Although Sunday Assembly is often referred to in the
Press as an ‘atheist church’ and it defines itself as a ‘godless congregation’, it
is not anti-religion and does not preach atheism; on the contrary, anyone can
join Sunday Assembly regardless of whether or not they hold religious beliefs.
Sunday Assembly’s motto is ‘live better, help often, wonder more’;85 it meets
monthly, often in former church buildings and often filled with those who miss
going to church but are not comfortable with all the traditional beliefs and
practices. A Sunday Assembly gathering involves communal singing, contem-
plation, inspirational talks and general community-building, facilitated by free
tea and cake and community action (such as painting accommodation for a

83 Woodhead, keynote presentation at ‘Practical Theology and Public Life’ consultation.

84 See, for example, Esther Addley, ‘Atheist Sunday Assembly Branches Out in First Wave of
Expansion’, The Guardian, 14 September 2013, <http://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/
sep/14/atheist-sunday-assembly-branches-out> [accessed 26 January 2014].
85 See <http://www.sundayassembly.com>

International Journal of Public Theology 9 (2015) 131–155

belonging without believing 155

housing project). While the Sunday Assembly makes use of social networking
media to share updates and connections, it is focused on meeting in the real
rather than the virtual world.
It is my contention, then, that the priority of a Christian commitment to
Trinitarian theology is to seek to extend rather than curtail human relation-
ality, and, in the contemporary context of religious plurality and diversity,
that means belonging comes before believing. Only time will tell if Sunday
Assembly’s growing popularity will last, but, in the interim, Christian churches
and public theology would do well to pay attention to the message that its
popularity reveals: there is a need for a physical, non-doctrinal community
(especially for some elderly persons and those without internet access) that
focuses on ‘belonging without believing’. Rise in online religious activity does
fill in some of the gaps where physical communities are lacking, but this new
‘public’ of netizens operating in the new public space of the Net will find that
digital community is an inadequate substitute for social action and face-to-
face relations.

International Journal of Public Theology 9 (2015) 131–155

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