Evangelical high church - Column

Christian Century, Dec 8, 1993 by Nancy T. Ammerman

CRESCENT HILL Baptist Church in Louisville, Kentucky, demonstrates immediately that in the South, Baptists are no sectarian outsiders. The church dominates the hill near the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, dwarfing the Episcopal church next door. Inside, the rich wood, stained glass, two pipe organs (a small one up front and a large one in the balcony), marble columns flanking the baptistry and ornate domed ceiling over the choir left all bespeak establishment status. Worshiping here are doctors and lawyers, up-and-coming business people and--of course-- seminary people. It is both a "town" church and a "gown" church. It's the "gown" part that's been under stress of late.

Being at Crescent Hill on a cold Sunday last January was hardly a first-time visit for me. Crescent Hill was the first church my husband and I joined after we were married. On the Sunday we joined, over 20 years ago, there must have been 15 other seminary-related people in the new-member line. It was the same each of the five Septembers we were there. Seminarians have always found a niche here. It was a place that let us experiment and dream, a place where we could freely ask questions, where we could east off old moorings while new harbors were being constructed. The invocation given this Sunday reminded me of that, made me suspect that some of that identity was still in place. The young woman who is the congregation's minister to youth and students prayed that God would help us weave our lives together loosely so that there would be room for new threads, room to grow.

But Crescent Hill was also a place that kept seminarians' feet firmly planted in a real congregation of people who would still be there when we left. And they were. Although I could hardly remember names after so long an absence, many of the people were familiar--some faces a bit more lined with age, some grown up with children of their own, but still familiar.

On this particular Sunday morning the choir was doing some last-minute rehearsing with their guest trumpeter when I entered the sanctuary. People began filing in from all directions-- some from an obviously thriving Sunday school and some just arriving. By the time the service started, nearly 500 people made the place comfortably full. A contingent of youth filled one section of the balcony, accompanied by lots of families and the choir. The main part of the sanctuary was dominated by the over-60 crowd, but they were joined by young couples and singles I guessed to be the current crop of seminarians--fewer than I remembered, but still distinctively present. Roy Honeycutt, soon to retire from the presidency of Southern Seminary, took his usual seat near the front, with his wife, June. His departure marked the transition of that institution's administration from "moderate" to "fundamentalist," but this is his church, and here he is surrounded by fellow parishioners, not trustees, employees and students.

Among the first items presented during the gathering that preceded the prelude and call to worship was an update from the pastor search committee. The committee had surveyed the congregation and was meeting with church leaders to discuss the results and develop a church profile. (I wondered if they would accept women candidates; they have had women deacons and women on the ministerial staff for many years.) They were accepting recommendations and seeking the advice of the placement office at the Kentucky Baptist Convention. I noted in that combination both established denominational channels (at least those they assume are not compromised by fundamentalist domination) and the informal networks of their well-connected membership.

I was reminded of those connections as I greeted people after the service. Some I knew from the crossing of academic paths over the years. Some knew me from the new Cooperative Baptist Fellowship and the Alliance of Baptists. And some were just longtime friends. I found myself thinking about how the channels of friendship and interaction are shifting in these changing denominational times. In the old days I would have seen these people regularly at the annual Southern Baptist Convention meeting, alumni gatherings and the like. But no more; now we must develop new ways to meet.

But I am getting ahead of the story. I was, after all, there to worship. At Crescent Hill, worship has always had a "high-church" flavor by Baptist standards. This week the congregation was celebrating Epiphany (it regularly observes the seasons of the church year). They have "voluntaries" rather than "special music" and "lessons" rather than "scripture readings." The music performed by choir, organ and trumpet was composed by Bach, Telemann and Handel. The order of service contained a litany written especially for the day. Two extended moments of silence punctuated the service, and all the prayers focused on faith, the theme for the day. During the designated time of "gathering" worshipers greeted each other with "The Lord be with you" and the response "And also with you." People who worship here could easily be comfortable with the liturgy of many mainline churches.