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Not your parents' VBS: How vacation Bible schools are changing to meet new needs

Campers at Mt. Olive Lutheran Church in Santa Monica, Calif., paint crosses during craft time at vacation Bible school.
Jason DeRose
/
NPR
Campers at Mt. Olive Lutheran Church in Santa Monica, Calif., paint crosses during craft time at vacation Bible school.

At Mt. Olive Lutheran Church in Santa Monica, Calif., about 20 elementary school kids were in the thrall of Katie Nakata as she taught them a song:

"In the beginning, God made the seas," she sang.

"In the beginning, God made the seas," they echoed.

Nakata was one of four young adults leading Mt. Olive's vacation Bible school. As morning worship began, three ran toward each other and interlocked arms.

"In the name of the Father," they shouted. "And in the name of the Son. And in the name of the Holy Spirit. Three in one, we welcome you to worship!"

It looked like a vacation Bible school from any era: daily worship, singing, crafts, plenty of play — and, of course, Bible stories.

But there was one big difference: Some campers weren't members of this congregation — or any congregation — and may have never heard Bible stories before. Mt. Olive advertised online and put up signs inviting the whole community to attend.

It's not just the Bible stories that were unfamiliar.

For decades, churches have offered day camps for kids called vacation Bible schools — often known by their acronym, VBS. Now they're adapting to changing dynamics of family life and religious participation. Rather than recruiting volunteers from the congregation to run vacation Bible school, Mt. Olive hired Lutheran Retreats, Camps and Conferences to create and lead the program.

The VBS camps are a service for parents who can't easily take a week off from work to volunteer, said the Rev. Christie Webb, Mt. Olive's pastor.

"They would say, 'I'm looking for something to do this week for my kids, and this is an inexpensive way to care for my kids during the week.'"

At one time, most vacation Bible schools were free because the people running them were volunteers. But the need to hire staff means that some now charge a small fee.

One of the working moms whose son attended VBS at Mt. Olive is Christa Peters, who works in health care. She said religious education is important in her family, but it's not just about 8-year-old Rigby Peters learning specific songs or stories.

"He is building a community that is based on morals and values that we believe in as a family," she said.

Rigby said he was looking forward to spending time with old friends from the congregation and meeting new ones. He admitted, however, that he kind of wished he were at football camp instead.

But he had a plan for merging his interest in sports with his attendance at vacation Bible school. It involved craft time.

"Making probably football bracelets," he said.

Julia Chin, a concert pianist who lives in Shanghai but is visiting family and working in Los Angeles this summer, brought her child to VBS at Mt. Olive as well.

She found it online and is grateful that it doesn't end at noon like some other summer programs for children. The VBS camp opens at 8 in the morning, and staff provide child care until 5:30 p.m. to accommodate most job schedules.

Religious education is declining nationwide

With these innovations, you might think VBS is flourishing. But it turns out that fewer congregations are offering them. "And that's a little bit depressing," said Scott Thumma, a sociologist of religion and the director of the Hartford Institute for Religion Research.

Before 2020, a little more than one-third of congregations offered vacation Bible school. Now, it's less than a third.

Thumma said there's a similar drop-off in Sunday school. Prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, 88% of congregations offered it. That figure has dropped to 81%.

"We're talking [about] nearly 30,000 congregations that were offering children's religious education and not offering it now," Thumma said.

Reasons include a lack of interest in religion among younger people, compounded by competition from flashier camps. Think surfing or coding.

But for congregations still offering vacation Bible school, there's energy.

Welcome to "Messy Camp"

At First United Methodist Church in Santa Monica, youth minister Jamie Jones expected about 30 kids for what she's calling Messy Camp. It sounds more fun than "vacation Bible school," and "faith is messy in general," she explained.

"But also God's done some pretty cool things."

Cool things like create the universe. The recent University of California, Berkeley biochemistry grad plans to offer hands-on science-and-religion lessons. It's not your parents' vacation Bible school.

"The first day they'll be learning about light. So obviously the sun," she said.

Another day, kids will make volcanoes to explore God's creation of land. For their lesson about the creation of human beings, Jones will teach about the respiratory system and how God breathed life into humanity.

Tricia Guerrero, First United Methodist Church's pastoral associate, said all these activities fit with Messy Camp's ethos: "exploring the world around us and how we can make a difference."

It's a difference, she said, that helps the congregation see beyond itself and serve people in all the ways it can.

"We don't hold so tightly onto the idea that the goal is membership," Guerrero said. "The end goal is community and reaching out beyond our church doors to connect with our neighbors."

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Jason DeRose
Jason DeRose is the Western Bureau Chief for NPR News, based at NPR West in Culver City. He edits news coverage from Member station reporters and freelancers in California, Washington, Oregon, Nevada, Alaska and Hawaii. DeRose also edits coverage of religion and LGBTQ issues for the National Desk.