Free pancakes

An American public university environment isn’t exactly the stereotypical setting for those looking to express and practice their religious faith. Western culture doesn’t treat college as a period for metaphysical introspection—rather, more often it would seem that students are expected to eschew religious devotion during this period of their lives, focusing instead on success in their studies, hanging out with their friends, or making the most of whatever fraternity life they’ve chosen. With all these social opportunities at their disposal, it’s surprising—or, at the very least, unexpected—to see legions of young people abstaining from classic collegiate activities and spending their precious spare time reading a millennia-old religious text rather than business textbooks, professing their faith in God rather than in alcohol. What could motivate perfectly normal university students to engage in something both as sobering and sober as Bible study? As it turns out, members of Miami University’s Bridge Church choose to participate in the Christian campus organization not in the interest of expressing their faith or building their spirituality—although these are both major components—but instead because the group functions as a social and familial support group and allows them to socialize with their peers in a non-alcoholic environment.

It’s not that members of the organization are ignorant of the possibilities of being a college student in a college town—they surround themselves with them on a weekly basis. On Thursday nights during the first half of the semester, members of the Bridge Church organize a free pancake station at the Phi Delta Theta Gates near uptown Oxford. Here they hand out free servings of chocolate chip and buttermilk pancakes or water bottles branded with their logo to eager passersby, many of whom are stumbling home after a long night visiting bars and fraternity parties. This is the college experience that has come to be expected of American students: seeking oblivion at the bottoms of inconspicuous red Solo cups, forging hazy memories of rowdy nocturnal adventures with compatriots. And yet, in the face of all the hedonism and sinful abandon rests a band of neon-clad angels disseminating breakfast fare into the wee hours of morning, cheerfully shouting “Free pancakes!” and exchanging niceties with complete strangers. Behind the maple syrup lies the truth that these social interactions represent what I believe to be the fundamental element of what makes the Bridge Church so popular among students who take their Christianity seriously.

In this context they are still technically participants in the riotous mayhem so common on weekend nights in college towns like Oxford, but they’ve assumed a role—or, rather, invented one—within the culture which allows them to remain true to their Christian ideals. To be frank, after a certain age it’s near impossible to find avenues to social interaction with much of the student body which don’t involve consuming alcohol. Rather than engaging in the drinking and partying directly, those members of the Bridge can instead become charitable short-order cooks when their fellow students need them most, sharing in some of the fun of the uptown experience but none of the sin. They can meet interesting people, crack jokes with old and new friends, and provide a valuable service to a hungry populace all in an environment they feel comfortable with, an environment they crafted for themselves wherein they won’t be pressured to drink alcohol or dance inappropriately at Oxford’s bars. Honestly, some part of me envies them—they’ve found a weekend activity they enjoy alternative to the mainstream Miami student’s agenda. I wish more people went against the current and chose interesting events which suited their actual interests and functioned within their ideals like these pancake handouts, rather than the standard drunken romps with brief and expensive trips to uptown bars serving as keystone to their evening come midnight.

Of course, this pancake arrangement serves a dual purpose. While interacting with classmates uptown and culinary generosity might seem reason enough for the occasion, the implicit goal is to generate awareness about the group’s main event—that is, their weekly Bible study sessions. Once students have met their desired pancake quota, they oftentimes mull around the Bridge’s table, conversing amongst themselves or with various members of the organization. These customers are usually presented with an informational flyer detailing many of the group’s activities, including services on Sundays and Bible studies on Tuesdays organized by regions of campus. On September 21, I attended the North Quad faction’s Bible study session in the basement of Flower Hall, field notebook in tow.

The discussion was colorful and memorable, reminiscent of the several retreats more than a decade of Catholic schooling had exposed me to. A dozen of us arranged the generic sofas and recliners into a circle and the members each readied their Bible. The discussion touched on a number of theological ideas, rationalizations and interpretations of Gospel text, and each member seemed to value various aspects of the discussion differently. When more philosophical content was brought to the table, two members in particular chimed in with informed definitions of terms, highlighting differences between “heathenism” and “paganism” or explaining “nihilism” to others who seemed less versed in the concepts. The proponents of differing interpretations were cordial and helpful, talking through opposing ideas in a genuine attempt to better understand the sacred text at hand and contribute to the communal knowledge base. While creating a dialogue on scripture was doubtless the official purpose of this meeting, the conversation gradually morphed into a more general group conversation concerning various members’ personal spiritual issues.

During my visits to Bible study meetings, a common refrain among students’ spiritual struggles was a difficulty establishing or maintaining a strong relationship with Jesus. Some were optimistic even in their doubts, attributing good fortune and happy memories to divine providence, while others were more fatalistic about their explanations for the role Jesus played in their lives. “Without Jesus,” one member said, “what would there be to live for?” Another mentions his belief that, “Either Jesus was the son of God, or this whole world is nothing.” The night these comments were uttered I remember being shaken, genuinely worried for their happiness should they ever encounter something that shook their religious faith to the core. As someone who has personally experienced a loss of faith, I know how dangerous this sort of Christian nihilism can become. These were among the individual personal issues brought forward to the group setting, and the response was strikingly more positive. Other members, particularly the leadership, helped to guide members’ thoughts in the right directions. They counseled fellow students struggling with their religious faith and also comforted those going through trying times. The “Bible study” aspect of this group’s weekly meetings, it would seem, was only part of the story, a partial façade shading the group’s true function as a support network amongst like-minded Christian collegiate scholars. Members made prayer requests, requesting of the others spiritual positivity and prayers of petition for issues ranging from midterm exams to an ailing grandfather.

An interview with group leader Ricky Cotton illustrated the key component of what made the Bridge Church’s Bible study sessions more than a simple examining of an ancient text. “[It’s] the family aspect of the group [that] makes it more than just a Bible study,” he said, “Our activities outside of the meetings […] make it so much more than just a group to me and to the other members.” The members of the Bridge Church form a sort of supportive, familial community of faith-centric college-age individuals. It provides in some instances a surrogate social experience for students unwilling to engage in weekend bouts of hedonism and a way for them to still carve their niche in the patchwork social culture of their university. Weekly meetings allow them an avenue to voice personal and spiritual problems, receive advice from a network of friends in a faith-based community environment. It would seem that for the members of the Bridge Church, this kind of familial support system makes it easier to be both a Christian and a college student, simpler to find opportunities for social interaction which don’t necessitate compromising their religious faith, painless to make friends who share your spiritual ideals. Not to mention pancakes—that’s something I think everybody can get behind.