My views about religious fundamentalism, frequently vented in newspaper columns, are locally well known. Growing up in those ranks and intimately familiar with the absolutist ethos, contentious disposition, mean-spirited legalism and anti-intellectualism characteristics of the genre, there lurks a deep distrust, dislike and disavowal of almost everything subsumed under the "F" word.
Newly built at the burgeoning eastern edge of our village is The Family Worship Center, a constituent member of the Church of God of Cleveland, Tenn., denomination. Two years of residence in that city gave me considerable personal knowledge of its beliefs, which clearly fit the definition of "fundamentalist."
Some months ago, our community was enlivened by the eruption of religious fervor onto the local political scene. A group of self-appointed, religiously motivated activists calling themselves "Men of God on Fire" worked successfully to promote the election to the town board of directors a plurality of men whose religious and political views were more to their liking than the ousted incumbents. It is no stretch to say that the three MoGoF, moving purposefully against the tepid apathy of the electorate, put in place those who would lead and control much of the civic life of our village.
The media burst of attention to these developments identified all the MoGoF as members of The Family Worship Center. This combination would make any religion journalist’s typing fingers twitch.
I attended a Sunday service there a few weeks ago.
I was a bit apprehensive about going in. Joining people at worship on their own turf for the purpose of journalizing the event is not the loftiest of motives, and my religious persuasions would make me as out of place as pork chop at a Jewish picnic.
Occupying a pew that Sunday morning at The Family Worship Center was a time-warp trip into Déjà Vu Land. Commodious and utilitarian, like many today, there’s not much "churchy" about the building, but my body gratefully approved the sinfully comfortable seats.
The music was a bit too happy-clappy for my Anglican tastes, but the congregation sang with a devotional gusto rarely heard in Episcopalian naves. Singing was accompanied by a band, which included a drummer who took to his task with great vigor. One wonders at what decibel level they would play "Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling." The preacher is skilled in his craft. The Rev. David Smith’s sermon was delivered with substance, a casual style, a positive tone and obvious sincerity. No ranting against sin, no claims to be the voice of God — he left no odor of sulfur in the air. He fed his flock, and did it well.
In a subsequent two-hour personal conversation, about 30 seconds into it he made sure I understood that the Men of God on Fire are individually valued members of the congregation but have no formal endorsement and do not represent the church.
Mr. Smith described himself as a "blue-collar fundamentalist," stating his beliefs firmly, with quiet conviction. And, surprise! He acknowledged he is not in possession of all truth and may not understand the divine word and will with infallible correctness.
Fundamentalism, the toxic kind, is as much an attitude as a set of beliefs or doctrinal declarations. It is mean-spirited, legalistic, self-righteous and confrontational. I found none of these in either the people or the pastor. Can it be that a new brand of fundamentalism has been born among us?
To distort Aristotle’s famous comment about swallows, "one visit doth not an understanding make." My visits at worship and with the pastor were a gracious blessing.
I will probably go back for another visit, unafraid of being taken for Typhoid Mary. I may even wear my God Squad suit with the black shirt and backwards collar. Maybe I can cautiously introduce some liturgical pizzazz into their procedures; Pastor Smith would look stunning in a cassock and surplice, and the auditorium is big enough that a whiff of incense would not asphyxiate the faithful.
Syndicated columnist Jack Wilson is an Episcopal priest. His email address is jackscolumn@jwco.us.
