Brandon Brown listens during a Jesus + Beer session at Bernie’s Tap Room in Waukesha. Credit: Gary Porter / For the Journal Sentinel

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The big screen at Bernie's Tap Room in Waukesha flickers with a baseball game between Texas Christian University and Dallas Baptist. The players are nearly life-size.

But the action on-screen is lost to the 15 people seated at two long tables in front of the game. They are deep in conversation about Jesus, church and life, stopping occasionally for a sip from the pint glass at hand.

Jesus + Beer is in session.

In and near Milwaukee, some people are getting a little faith with their froth. Assemblages like Jesus + Beer are part of a national trend of groups combining Bible study with elbow-bending. Sometimes, it's just easier to talk religion over a beer, one pastor said. It's also an idea that goes back to Martin Luther and the Protestant Reformation.

Brandon Brown, pastor at Collective MKE church, said he started Jesus + Beer because "people have left traditional church structures but still want to talk about Jesus."

And he liked the selection of brews at Bernie's, 351 W. Main St.

"That's the trajectory of my life," said Brown, whose Bay View version of the monthly Jesus + Beer sessions meets May 17 at Tonic Tavern, 2335 S. Kinnickinnic Ave. "Beer's actually a late addition. Jesus' love was there from the beginning."

Not that these kinds of groups are unique. Or new. Pub talks about religion have been going on since the Middle Ages.

J. Patrick Hornbeck, chair of the theology department at Fordham University in New York, says pubs represent a space of freedom that churches don't always offer.

"It gives people permission to say a little more," said Hornbeck, who says pubs offer something of a theological lubricant. "It's something more of an equalizing force."

Drinking beer and talking religion played a role in the Protestant Reformation, said Steve Jerbi, pastor at All Peoples Lutheran Church, 2600 N. 2nd St.

The Reformation was funded by brew that Martin Luther's wife made, said Jerbi, who hosts a monthly meeting at the Riverwest Public House, 815 E. Locust St., where people of all faiths — and, as often as not, no faith — drink beer and talk religion.

"This week, we had a Reconstructionist Jew, a secular Muslim, a candidate for the ministry in the Baptist church, a lesbian and a middle-aged mom," Jerbi said.

"Part of it is that I enjoy having a good conversation over a pint," he said. Jerbi's group has been meeting since the Public House opened five years ago.

Spiritual, both ways

Participants are asked to join in spirited debate but to never use violent words or actions. Sloppy drunkenness is not tolerated, according to the laminated cards that Jerbi hands out.

"Beer is God's way of saying he wants us to be happy," according to an adage credited to Martin Luther. More than one pub theology practitioner repeated it.

David Dault, head of the nonprofit Chicago Sunday Evening Club, said the relationship between religion and alcohol can be chronicled through the Reformation. Look for which countries had beer as their main alcoholic beverage as opposed to wine: Catholics and wine vs. Protestants and beer.

As in Luther's day, perhaps, "craft beer allows you to nerd out about the technicalities — about hops, about mash time. People that geek out about theology have a similar craft," Dault said.

"There's a certain technical pride in both creating something and playing with holy things, intoxicating substances. Things that are spiritual in both senses of the word."

Dault points to a current "theology hipster subculture" in which groups of men with beards and pipes host hard-core discussions of orthodox theology.

"It's a thing," said Dault. He offered as proof a podcast called Homebrewed Christianity, recorded by "guys that brew their own beer and like to smoke cigars."

Recent patrons at McBob's, 4919 W. North Ave., might have seen Dan Quakkelaar and friends sharing a few beers. They were identifiable by Bibles crowding the table.

"It does sometimes get looks — a bunch of guys with their Bibles out, drinking beer," Quakkelaar said.

"There's a perception in the church and in Milwaukee that you have to have this veneer of holiness that says don't drink, don't smoke, don't chew."

Quakkelaar is building a church called Friend of Sinners Church, part of the Presbyterian Church in America. Currently, they meet in a temporary location, but Quakkelaar said the program is Gospel-centered and evangelical, inviting people in from even a bar stool.

'Safe houses' for faith

Church can be a scary place to voice dissent or ask questions, theologians suggest.

"There is definitely a lack of church structure for debate," said Carter Turner, associate professor of religious studies at Radford University in Virginia. Bars might be "the closest thing we have to conversation safe houses," he said.

For Don Mingo of Big Bend, a "faith shift" attracted him away from church and toward Jesus + Beer. So did the promise of "really good beer."

The stay-at-home dad with eight children said he had been exploring why he believed what he did and found that others were, too.

"What I ended up discovering was that there were a lot of different backgrounds that would come to these events — artists, scientists, ex-pastors, Catholics, Lutherans, Baptists and atheists," Mingo said. "There was amicable conversation, but it was all passionate."

Christopher Boucher doesn't go to church. He doesn't read the Bible. But the 26-year-old global product manager is a regular at Jesus + Beer.

"In traditional religious settings, you need to be formal. You need to know all the sayings that go with all the different parts of the service," Boucher said. "You might feel obligated by the collection plate."

The night's discussion is never written in stone, and tangents are welcome, Boucher said. As a result, he said, "not only do people listen, they respond."

Caroline Moan, 53, sits at the same table as Boucher. She followed Brandon Brown from his former church, Elmbrook, to his Jesus + Beer group.

"Some people think Christians are not supposed to drink," Moan said. "Brandon is not afraid to go beyond what the establishment thinks in a very respectful way.

"He wants people to understand there is a role and that it's OK to bring alcohol into a Christian's life. I think that's part of it," she said. "The venue is purposeful."

Brown sets the evening's topic sheet, "The Anxiety Management Industry," in the center of each table. It asks about the expectation that religion will help with anxieties about death or guilt but won't always meet the goal. Included are talking points about triggers and a list of resources.

Then he heads to the bar. For a beer.