First Baptist Church of Haddonfield, built in the 1800s, has a marvelous interior – high white ceilings with pale blue beams, pews arranged in a half-circle around the central pulpit and altar area, lovely stained glass. It is spacious, airy, and altogether welcoming. A large gold cross is affixed to the wall behind the pulpit, and the impressively large pipe organ sits off to the side, as do the choir stalls.
A woman welcomes me and shakes my hand as I enter, and two other people shake my hand when I enter the sanctuary. I estimate the church could seat about 400-500, and there seem to be about a hundred or so people (plus a choir of 17) here for the 11:00 service, which is the only Sunday morning service today.
The pastor is not here. (I realize suddenly that I’ve now been to six churches, but I’ve seen the senior pastor at only two of them.) I learn later that the senior pastor at Haddonfield Baptist is picking up a child from college, and his wife is touring the Galapagos Islands (there must be a Darwin joke here somewhere, but I can’t think of it).
The guest preacher today is Rev. Terrence S. Keeling, the Pastor of Evangelism and Social Concerns at Calvary Baptist Church in Paterson, and he is black (most of the churchgoers here are white). When the service officiants progress, I am surprised to see that the guest pastor is wearing a long white robe and a black stole with gold edging– I had for some reason assumed that Baptist preachers don’t wear robes. Before taking his seat on the dais he kneels in prayer for a minute or two.
The Minister of Christian Education, Erin (I recognize her from the website), is a young women sporting a fairly prominent tattoo above her ankle. (Maybe people at Oral Roberts and Liberty University are not as conservative as I had assumed.) She greets everyone with “Good morning,” and begins the announcements. She asks visitors to fill out the visitors’ card, which I do. Then everyone greets each other. I shake hands with several friendly people.
Some people are dressed extremely casually, and others, mostly people who seem to be above the age of seventy, are dressed rather formally -- suit and tie for the men, suits, nylons, and heels for the women. I notice again, as I often do in churches, how terrific older women with white hair look in those pretty pastel suits – pink, blue, yellow. They are gorgeous! I might mention here that very few people have been “dressed up” in any of the churches I’ve visited so far. Casual dress seems to be the custom in most churches these days, and I don’t mean business casual. I mean you would find folks wearing blue jeans and tee shirts in most churches these days.
The children’s choir (three girls and two boys) does a song, accompanied by adults on piano and guitar. They have the soft, feathery voices of most children’s choirs. The choir does a nice job, accompanying the congregation with a descant on the last verse of the first hymn, “Holy, Holy, Holy.”
The sermon text is Genesis 3, the story of the fall from Eden, and the title of the sermon is “Finding Your Way Back to Eden.” Rev. Keeling opens by explaining to everyone that he comes from a church with a call-and-response tradition: if he makes a point you think is really good, call out “Amen!” (We practice.)
If he makes a point you think someone else in the congregation needs to sit up and pay attention to (his exact words are, “If I’m getting into someone else’s kitchen”), call out “Welllllll . . . . ." (We practice.)
If he makes a point that makes you uncomfortable, that seems to be stepping on your own toes rather than your neighbors’, call out a warning: “Wait a minute, preacher.” He encourages us to practice this one, but gets a pretty lukewarm response. Not surprising - it’s pretty hard to get white congregations to shout out anything in church, especially anything longer than one word.
The sermon is about the two mistakes Adam makes: he is self-indulgent and self-reliant. We can return to Eden by reversing these mistakes -- curbing our self-indulgence and relying upon Jesus rather than upon ourselves. The sermon is about 30 minutes long, and builds to an impassioned exhortation to give your life to Jesus, and an altar call (although no one comes forward). Rev. Keeling is a very good preacher, and the sermon is excellent in structure, message, and delivery. The congregation tries rather gamely to go along with the call-and-response scheme, although we are plainly not comfortable with it.
Communion is celebrated. This church uses ordinary white bread, cut up into little cubes, and grape juice. Communion is served to us at our seats in the pews. I like this style of taking communion, passing the elements to your neighbors in the pews. One aspect of the theology behind it is that all believers are ministers to each other, and another aspect is that this way of taking the Lord’s supper emphasizes its origin in an actual meal, where people pass food and drink to their companions.
After the service I walk in the direction most everyone else seem to be heading, which turns out to be a large, handsome parlor. A woman introduces herself, and quickly ascertains that I am a first-time visitor. She attempts to find some visitors’ packets, but cannot locate them. She pours me a cup of juice and asks how long I’ve lived in the area. The cookies and other treats on the table look pretty good, but she steers me away from the calories before I can get my hands on anything. She asks the Minister of Christian Education, Erin, if she can find a visitors’ packet, and Erin goes off in search of the missing materials. At this point I notice that someone I know from work is here! Hey, Linda! We chat for a while. Erin returns to report that she can’t locate a visitors’ packet, and I assure everyone that this is fine with me, which is quite true.
When I try to retrace my steps back to the street, I discover that the front doors have been locked. I try another set of doors, and they are locked also. I ask someone how to get out of the building, and she points me to a rear exit, which leads to the parking lot behind the building. It seems church members park behind the church, and do not often use the front doors, especially after the service. This is the third time this has happened to me so far – having trouble either getting into or out of a church building.
A couple weeks after my visit, the woman I had spoken with called me to let me know that summer hours would be starting soon. Then, on July 3, she called again to ask if she could bring over some cake. Since I was at work, that was impossible, but certainly a friendly gesture.
A few weeks later I received the church newsletter in the mail. I continued to receive the newsletters every month, so I was able to follow news at First Baptist throughout the next year.
I was interested to see that on the front page of the newsletter for March of 2008 the pastor called for a day of repentance for the actions of the United States in Iraq. He stated, “We are mired in a failed strategy that opens the bloody scenario of sectarian warfare with no end in sight.” He ends the letter with, “I understand that Christians of good conscience will have many different opinions on this matter. In all cases I ask that we may pray for a just peace in Iraq.”
Reading this, I wonder again if I will hear much about politics in the year that lies ahead. My understanding of the separation of church and state doctrine is that it’s all right for pastors and churches to take a stand on issues, but not to endorse particular candidates or political parties. However, it’s often pretty easy to deduce from a person’s stand on issues which candidate he or she supports -- so the line of separation here is not as bright or clear as some people might hope. For example, in taking his stand on the war in Iraq, the pastor at First Baptist is clearly being quite critical of President Bush, whether he mentions him by name or not. So some people would probably prefer that he not take a stand. And yet how can a pastor, called to proclaim positions on issues of morality and truth and justice, not take a stand on something as big as a war?
Wait a minute, preacher. I need to think on this.
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