By now, just about everyone knows about the Rev. Jeremiah Wright and the fiery sermons that have clouded the political prospects of Barack Obama, long a member of the now retired pastor's Trinity United Church of Christ. But all the controversy is also provoking curiosity about the Protestant denomination to which that predominantly black South Side Chicago church belongs—and about how Wright's brand of black liberation theology fits within the traditions of a largely white denomination with roots extending to America's colonial past.
To the Rev. John Thomas, general minister and president of the United Church of Christ, Wright's preaching over the years has been in step with what he and others proudly describe as the UCC's progressive, diverse, and prophetically bold character. "I continue to support his ministry and his prophetic stance," says Thomas, though he adds that some of Wright's recent remarks "did not represent the style and theological depth that I've associated with him in the past."
Until Wright became the object of ubiquitous media chatter, the United Church of Christ was probably best known for its self-depiction as the church without a bouncer at the door. That reputation came out of a successful national branding effort launched four years ago by the still relatively young church that emerged in 1957 out of the union of two Protestant denominations, the Evangelical and Reformed Church and the Congregational Christian Churches, themselves products of earlier mergers of even older churches. Accentuating the UCC's progressive theology and its ethos of tolerance, the campaign kicked off with a TV ad that showed bouncers in front of a church admitting a white husband and wife but turning away a gay couple, a black woman, and person in a wheelchair. "Jesus didn't turn people away," the ad declared. "Neither do we."
Distinctive brand. Whether or not viewers liked the message, they now knew where the UCC stood. And the leadership of the church was pleased that the UCC—which had sometimes been confused with the more conservative Churches of Christ—now had a distinctive brand. "The campaign increased a sense of identity and pride within the denomination," says the Rev. J. Bennett Guess, the church's director of communications.
But not all UCC members shared that pride. To many pastors and laypeople, the campaign merely affirmed the church's drift away from orthodox Christianity and toward theological chaos and overly liberal political and social positions— typified, such dissenters now say, by Wright's inflammatory sermonizing. And that direction, they add, is the main reason that the now 1.2 million-member church has lost around 800,000 members since its founding and gone from 8,283 congregations in 1957 to 5,518 in 2007.
To some degree, the UCC's problems with dissension and defections can be found in most mainline Protestant churches today. But the UCC, by dint of its history, its system of governance, and its leadership, has become an even more intense arena of theological controversy. That history embraces several denominational histories, including that of the Congregational church planted by dissenting Pilgrims and Puritans who came to America in the early 17th century. Congregationalism arose out of dissatisfaction with Presbyterianism's hierarchical governance, and the tradition of local autonomy remains strong in the UCC to this day. That structure, says Robert Wuthnow, director of the Center for the Study of Religion at Princeton University, "has given [the UCC] freedom to maneuver, allowing it to go in some wildly different directions."
The first mainline Protestant church to ordain an African-American pastor (Lemuel Haynes, in 1785), it became the first to accept a woman and an openly gay person into the clergy. Wuthnow says that during the 1960s, "partly because they were smaller, partly because they had a strong Northeast membership, and partly because they were so involved in the civil rights movement, they carved out a niche that was more progressive than those of other mainline churches."