Before I start, a brief disclaimer: I am very aware that alcohol abuse is a serious issue and I in no way endorse reckless drunkenness.

There. Now that that's out of the way...

Hi, my name is Derrick. I'm a pastor and I love beer. I don’t just love beer, I’m a beer snob. If it has a commercial, I probably won’t drink it.

I suppose growing up I thought those things would be mutually exclusive. As I've gotten older, I find that not only do these truths go together, they sometimes seemed to be intrinsically linked. I am not, by a long shot, the only beer-loving pastor out there. And the ones that don't drink beer, probably drink wine, or whiskey. I've come across very few tea-totaling ministers.

The relationship that Christians seem to have with alcohol is weird. It's like the family member of which we are ashamed and so we keep them out of sight. Quick story - I recently started getting together with a couple of ministers in the area. In the midst of one conversation, one of the pastors mentioned that her husband brewed beer. My installation ceremony, where I officially became the pastor of my particular congregation, was coming up and I jokingly mentioned that a few bottles of homebrew might make for a nice installation gift. Maybe I was half joking, but in any event, the pastor showed up to the installation with four bottles of homemade beer. The funny part for me was the cloak and dagger involved in getting the beer, discretely stashed in a plain brown paper bag, from my friend's car to my car. It was all very secretive and hush-hush. Real spy stuff.

This is the real problem with the way we have demonized alcohol. We haven't stopped people from drinking, instead we've made people be secretive about it and that's typically where abuse comes in. I think this becomes especially true for clergy. Instead of alcohol being a part of our celebration and relaxation, it becomes our hidden crutch, particularly in times of stress.

The recent Relevant Magazine podcast includes a conversation with author Stephen Mansfield who wrote the book The Search for God and Guinness: A Biography of the Beer that Changed the World. In addition to talking about the Christian values that inspired the creation of the Guinness brewery, he discusses developing a healthier theology around alcohol where we see it as a gift from God and something to be enjoyed in moderation. I really enjoyed hearing his take on this. In my own life, the best experiences I have had around alcohol are those where I have been gathered with friends, relaxing, enjoying each other's company and having meaningful conversations. This is true for many people. Why should this be any different for clergy? In fact, some of the best conversations I've ever had around faith, life, death, and God have been over drinks.

One more quick story, one I love to tell (stop me if you've heard this one): I spent a summer in Portland a few summers back doing an internship for seven small urban churches in the city. The night before my first Sunday morning service, I was awakened by the sound of people clearly enjoying themselves. At first, I tried to ignore it, but as they showed no signs of slowing down, I figured I had to do something. My first instinct was to call the cops, but then I thought that might not be the best way of endearing myself to my new neighbors. So, I said a quick "God help me" prayer, threw on my clothes, and went outside. As I stepped on the back porch, a motion sensor light was activated and the small crowd of people turned toward me. Now I'm under the spotlight and I have to do something. One of the people asked, "were we being too loud?" Before I had a chance to answer "of course!" someone else asked, "want a beer?" I answered the second question first. I joined the group and had a beer. They asked what brought me to Portland. I told them I was a seminarian doing an internship. After a moment or two of stunned silence, they began asking me questions about my faith, including whether or not it was okay for me to be drinking with them, and shared some of their spiritual views with me. That night began a conversation that continued throughout the summer about God, faith, justice, and why I chose to do what I do with my life. I didn't make "converts", but I made friends and had some meaningful conversations. All over beer.

The church shouldn't be in the business of enabling people's bad habits, but we should be in the business of having meaningful conversations with people about the things that matter most to them. Sometimes the place that happens isn't in church. It's in bars. If we can get over our puritanical attitudes and embrace openly the good gift we have been given by God, we're going to find more opportunities to have these meaningful conversations and we won't have to run to our local ministerial speakeasy to relax. We can just let ourselves be human.

Rev. Derrick L. Weston
Oakland Presbyterian Church, Springfield, OH