How culture wars divided one small progressive church in Philadelphia

In its heyday, Philadelphia's Circle of Hope church presented a radical vision of Christianity. Founded in 1996 as a reaction against the religious right, the church, which eventually grew to 700 members, was committed to living out Jesus' teachings and addressing social ills.

Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Eliza Griswold, who embedded with the congregation for four years, beginning in 2019, says church members planted community gardens, avoided buying anything new and shared their paychecks with neighbors living in poverty. "They really lived in ways that that inspired me, that I admired," she says.

But despite their shared egalitarian vision, the congregation disagreed over some of the same issues that have divided the country — including the COVID-19 pandemic and the racial reckoning after George Floyd was murdered by a police officer. In her new book, Circle of Hope: A Reckoning with Love, Power, and Justice in an American Church, Griswold explores how complaints about homophobia, white privilege and a lack of racial diversity eventually led the congregation to dissolve in January 2024.

"I was watching the culture wars come for Christianity in the 21st century, and I think I kind of had an early seat to that," Griswold says. "Circle of Hope is a lot about what happens when faith and culture come into conflict."

But Griswold adds that her book, which is a finalist for a National Book Award, is about more than religion — it's also about the ways that progressive organizations at large are splintering over culture issues.

"This didn't just happen to a zany group of Christians hanging out in Philadelphia," she says. "And a lot of my friends who do not want anything to do with religion have ... come back to me and been like, 'My goodness, this happened within my Audubon Society group.'"

Interview highlights

On the lack of diversity in the church

The question that the church begins to ask after George Floyd is why, in a city that's 50/50, white and Black, are we at least 85% white? And we have been doing this anti-racism work for a long time. We can draw in people of color, but why don't they stay? And ... the church uncovered a history, especially with Black women, who had come and attempted to lead or influence the culture and been dismissed for different reasons. And the same was true with Black pastors that they had not been really welcome to stay. And for everyone who had come — and there were several because they'd really tried to do this — there was some personal excuse for which they had to go. The culture was different. It didn't work.

On losing their diversity, equity and inclusion counselor

This all happened on a Zoom call that they had let me sit in on. And the diversity counselor says on the call, "I'm going to draw your attention to our contract. … You'll notice that there is a clause that says if I think things aren't going well, either one of us has the right to leave this procedure, and I'm leaving." And the shock was pretty inscriptional to listen to that unfold.

His reason for leaving, as he said to them and later to me in an interview, is there just wasn't enough trust there. I mean, there wasn't enough trust in these sessions. ... There wasn't enough trust between the people of color and the white people to even come together as one group. They really split into two different groups because they couldn't come to what they called a shared analysis. They couldn't come to a common story of how race functioned in the church.

On conflicts over having LGBTQ members

One of the churches was located in what Philadelphia calls the "Gayborhorhood." So it drew in a lot of people, a lot of queer folk who were like, "What's this church? Clearly, if they're meeting on the second floor in this raw space and they don't shower and they're casting off purity, culture and other aspects of evangelicalism, surely I'm welcome here."

The church had a complicated understanding of that, which I write about in the book, I call it "Don't ask, Don't tell." Because it's like, sure, you can come be who you are, but don't talk about who you are and don't try to advocate for who you are or that we should change our ways. Because with that, we're going to tell you that's worldly and we are not going to want you around anymore.

It wasn't that the church so much held on to them themselves, it was that they belonged to a denomination in Pennsylvania of Anabaptists called Brethren in Christ. ... Circle had signed documents and deeds for their buildings with these folks. And if they were going to embrace homosexuality, they were going to have to hand their buildings and a lot of their money back to the Brethren in Christ.

And that's ultimately what dissolved the church. The congregations ultimately decided they didn't want their money and buildings if it meant they had to remain in this weird stance against gay people. And so they embraced gay people and queer pastors, all of it. And they handed their money and buildings back to their denomination.

On coming to the conclusion that sometimes things end because they should

The whole premise of Christianity is rebirth, right? Jesus dies and then he comes back. That's the cycle. But at the same time, that's actually nature, right? ... Look at the seasons, look at the cycle of nature. ... Churches are messy places because life is a messy place. And I think if the book reflects that messiness and it's more authentic, I just have to trust the basic goodness of the intention, because that's definitely where we all began.

Sam Briger and Anna Bauman produced and edited this interview for broadcast. Bridget Bentz, Molly Seavy-Nesper and Beth Novey adapted it for the web.