RALEIGH, NC: The evangelical Anglican
A dynamic preacher and a dissident congregation find a perfect match
by Yonat Shimron, Staff Writer
The News & Observer
2/15/2006
At a conference of alienated Episcopalians in Virginia last year, the Rev. Michael Green got up to get a pitcher of water for his table when someone grabbed him by the arm and told him about a new church just starting in Raleigh.
The congregation had been formed by local Episcopalians upset with the direction of their denomination, which recently ordained an openly gay bishop. They needed a rector for their fledgling church. Would he consider it?
A retired Anglican priest considered one of the most prominent evangelicals in the Church of England, Green had just finished a research fellowship at the University of Oxford. At 74, he wasn't sure what his next step would be, so he accepted a preaching invitation in Raleigh.
Once here, he was intrigued. This fledgling congregation presented an opportunity to build on the enthusiasm he found among lay members and to prove the vitality of the Anglican tradition in the United States.
Founders of the church, a well-off group of business leaders and professionals, worked hard to impress him. They treated him to lunch at the Carolina Country Club and emphasized the region's sunny climate and intellectual heritage. They persuaded Green and his wife, Rosemary, to make a two-year, part-time commitment to the church, known as Holy Trinity.
Some say getting Green was a stroke of luck; others call it divine intervention. In his native country, Green is a celebrity preacher. The church where he made his reputation in the 1970s and 1980s, St. Aldates in Oxford, is one of the most successful in England, drawing packed crowds of students and faculty each Sunday.
Since his arrival in Raleigh six months ago, he has generated some of the same excitement. Green, alongside David Drake, a deacon who works with him as co-rector, has started home fellowship groups, evening classes and casual services followed by pizza.
"We knew he was energetic," said Garland Tucker III, the church's senior warden, referring to Green. "But as far as we can see, that means 24 hours every day."
For Green, building up an army of Christians is a lifelong mission.
"I want to die in the trenches with my boots on," he joked. "I think I can postpone that for a short while."
Looking for leadership
Across the Triangle and the nation, disaffected Episcopalians are breaking off from the Episcopal Church USA to found new churches. Many left after the Episcopal Church voted in 2003 to ordain V. Gene Robinson as bishop of New Hampshire. Robinson is considered the first openly gay bishop elected to the 2.3-million member denomination.
But unhappiness with what some would describe as the liberal direction of the Episcopal Church is not new. For the past 30 years others have broken off over issues relating to women's ordination and changes in the prayerbook, called the Book of Common Prayer.
"The rumor was that this was an anti-gay lobby," Green said, referring to Holy Trinity. "That's not true at all. The main thing was [a desire for] orthodox Christian teachings."
Still, many of these breakaway congregations struggle to keep members and find qualified leaders.
"They tend to be little groups that bicker among themselves and go nowhere," said David Steinmetz, a professor of the history of Christianity at Duke Divinity School.
One of the problems the startups face is the issue of oversight. The Episcopal Church is a member of the Anglican Communion, a worldwide family of churches with 75 million members under the leadership of the Archbishop of Canterbury. Many splinter churches would like to remain a part of the Anglican Communion. But in the United States, the communion recognizes the Episcopal Church only.
Some breakaway groups have sidestepped the problem by aligning under Anglican bishops in other countries. The Church of the Holy Cross, also in Raleigh, has become a member of an Anglican diocese in Uganda, a theologically conservative diocese, especially on issues of sexuality.
Holy Trinity is still in oversight limbo, awaiting a bishop's supervision. In the meantime, it participates in the Anglican Communion Network, a voluntary organization of 1,000 U.S. churches alienated from the Episcopal Church for what it calls "doctrinal decay."
Things may become clearer in June, when the Episcopal Church meets in Ohio to try to prevent a formal split among its ranks. But few are willing to predict the outcome.
"It's going to be very painful for everyone," Steinmetz said. "No one is going to come out smiling."
At a Christian foundations class in the living room of his Raleigh home recently, Green slipped into his bedroom, donned a pair of old T-shirts and returned to tell a dozen newly minted Christians that the shirts represented their old lives. He then threw them off and slipped on a white clerical robe to illustrate their new lives.
"The New Testament says put on the Lord Jesus Christ," he said. "Put off the old rags."
Later, he handed each class member a piece of chocolate individually wrapped in gold foil and told them it symbolized the gift that Jesus brings in the life hereafter.
"He who has the Son has life," he said. "He who does not have the Son doesn't."
Group members said they liked his teaching style.
"His enthusiasm is contagious," said Margaret Wooten, who joined last year with her husband, Stephen. "He's endearing and engaging as a speaker."
Others say they like Green's emphasis on a personal relationship with Jesus and a commitment to the Bible and prayer.
"There's a wonderful focus on evangelism, which is exciting," said Anne Sherman, who attended St. Michael's Episcopal before switching over.
For some lifelong Episcopalians, the emphasis on evangelism may be different from what they're accustomed to. But here in the South, where Episcopalians and Baptists have lived side by side, it may not be so strange.
Katherine Fritter grew up in an Episcopal church. Her husband, Matt, grew up a Baptist. At Holy Trinity, they've found the perfect compromise.
"We searched for a place that would work for us -- a place that wasn't afraid to talk about Jesus, but still sang the old hymns," she said.
Green now wants to build on that. The church, which meets in borrowed space at St. David's School chapel, has a membership of 140 people, but draws 260 most Sundays. Those are modest figures by many church standards, but Green thinks the growing attendance holds promise of great things to come.
"God has a way of bringing something good out of things that are not very good," he said recently. "I've not come here to play politics. I came to pastor a growing church."
END