The story of these sincere Anabaptist-type progressives has confirmed me, a Presbyterian, in my commitment to an Augustinian anthropology and belief in the importance of Scripture as normative for doctrine and life. Calvin once declared that doctrine without zeal is like a sword in the hand of a lunatic. One of the many lessons of ‘Circle of Hope’ is that the same applies to empathy when it is detached from Christian anthropology, Christian worship, and the moral imagination they cultivate.

Circle of Hope is a Philadelphia church that was founded by a pair of Southern Californian hippie church planters, Rod and Gwen White, in 1996. From the start the group dedicated itself to reaching parts of the community that were typically missed by many of the mainstream churches. Church members committed themselves to being part of the local community, to caring for the marginal and the dispossessed, and to being real presences in one another’s lives. Circle of Hope represented a less publicized stream of American evangelicalism: one that, in Eliza Griswold’s description, was committed to following “Jesus’s radical socialist teaching in literal ways.” It was not politically conservative, but neither was it the kind of liberal church that mostly serves leafy and affluent Democratic suburbs.

Griswold’s book follows the story from 1996 to the present day, through the lives and experiences of a handful of influential members of the community. Though at times it devolves into a tedious, almost day-by-day chronicle of meetings, conversations, phone calls, social media posts, and emails, the overall narrative is straightforward: What begins as a worthy cause espoused by sincere idealists degenerates over a quarter of a century into just one more church characterized by personal rivalries, power struggles, petty squabbles, egos, and recriminations. Circle of Hope is a microcosm of the divisions within American society, torn apart by the same rhetoric and dynamics that have caused turmoil in so many institutions and our public life.

In the early chapters, it is easy to admire the vision and commitment of the people involved. I do not share much of their theology, but the narrative makes clear their sincerity, their desire to reflect the character of Christ to the marginalized, and their ambition to do something great for the kingdom of God. These were not champagne socialists decrying the capitalist system while availing themselves of its choicest fruits. They lived their gospel, in a difficult neighborhood in a perennially troubled city. And yet the dream ended, and rather badly. Ultimately the original vision and culture proved unsustainable, for reasons that should be of interest to every church leader, progressive or conservative, today.

At first, the Anabaptist roots of the founding theology gave the community a healthy desire to avoid direct political engagement. Circle of Hope was a true community, one that welcomed outsiders to its worship services and sought to foster real connection during the week, without the partisanship that so often marks Christian churches.

But the church could not avoid politics indefinitely. We all now live in the world that the New Left built, wherein everything from the Boy Scouts to college math curricula has been politicized. A Christian ethic built upon empathy for fellow human beings certainly captures an important aspect of the truth. The Parable of the Good Samaritan encourages us to help those who are suffering, even when they belong to a hostile community. Once everything is politicized, however, empathy too must take on a political character.

The problem Circle of Hope faced was that the idea of “marginalization” is implicitly political. One key question concerned the inclusion of the various strands of LGBTQ+ ideology. If the only moral imperative is to give priority to the marginalized, and the only ethical guide is “empathy” as that term is popularly understood, then why not? This question became a major element in the clash between the founders and Jonny Rashid, the pastor who joined the church and eventually took it over.

In 2010, the year Jonny became a pastor, one church member tried to forge links between Circle of Hope and a local LGBTQ festival. Rod White told him to refrain: “We do not want to be divided up by gay political activism.” In 2018, Rod “begrudgingly” allowed Jonny to post a rainbow flag on the church’s Instagram account. By 2022, Jonny, while still at Circle of Hope, was denouncing the church for its past sins of “homophobia.”

The other main element was race: With the rise of Black Lives Matter, it was inevitable that the rebarbative jargon of “white fragility” and the rest would find a home in Circle of Hope. As Griswold puts it, during lockdown and the controversies over police brutality, “a struggle began over privilege and power.

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