From the pulpit to the spotlight

"Al Gore's Pastor" faces a tough decision - as well as the media - after the Southern Baptist Convention says women can't preach.

By TWILA DECKER, Times Staff Writer

© St. Petersburg Times, published June 23, 2000

[Photo: James A. Parcell] “Be prepared,” the Rev. Martha Phillips said during her sermon Sunday, “for God may thrust an opportunity upon you at any moment. A nobody like me or you could become a somebody in an instant for God.” Vice President Al Gore and his family are members of Mount Vernon Baptist Church in Arlington, Va., where Phillips is the interim preacher.

ARLINGTON, Va. -- The Rev. Martha Phillips steps into the pulpit on Father's Day at Mount Vernon Baptist Church, just days after her denomination decreed that the pulpit is a place women should not be.

Still new to preaching and a bit subdued, Phillips preaches about Samuel and David -- telling members to appreciate their fathers, even their flaws.

"Are you a man after God's own heart?" she asks. "As you can see with David, God knows that we are not perfect. All he is asking of you is that you love him and obey him. . . ."

It is not the highly polished church service, or sermon, one might expect to attract the vice president of the United States. But Al and Tipper Gore are in the pews today, lending Phillips their support.

There is no choir, just an organist trying to lead the mostly elderly church members in Baptist hymns, and a solo by a girl who drapes a shirt across her lap and strums a few chords of Amazing Grace on a guitar. Another parishioner reads a poem about fathers he found on the Internet.

A few days ago, Phillips was just another anonymous preacher at this tiny stone church that, even on Father's Day, with the Gores in attendance, draws only about 30 worshipers, plus a couple of men from the Secret Service.

Now she's being quoted by the Washington Post, chased down by producers of morning shows and hounded by radio stations: Overnight, she has become the face of female Southern Baptist preachers.

It's all true, but not really.

Yes, she's a female preacher, and yes, the Gores belong to this church. But she's only filling in, trying out for the top job while she finishes seminary. And the Gores attend only a handful of times a year. This is only the third time they've heard her preach.

But in the wake of the Southern Baptist Convention decreeing that woman should not preach, "Al Gore's female pastor" makes good copy.

"It's been quite a week," Phillips says. "I've been on CBS, MSNBC, FOX, Newsweek. The vice president called."

It's minutes before the 11 a.m. service begins, and the pastor, who people around here simply call "Martha," is hardly the picture of calm.

"The Secret Service are here. They're outside," Phillips whispers. "I think the vice president is coming."

The rare visit caps a wild week that began when the Southern Baptist Convention meeting in Orlando changed its faith and mission statement to say women should not be preachers. The news media went looking for just such a woman, but it wasn't easy. There are reportedly fewer than 100 women pastors in the entire convention of 40,000 churches.

Of those women, few are the pastor of a church. Most are associate pastors. Even Phillips, who is 50, is just an interim pastor. She's still angling with the search committee for the top job.

The church she works for was formed 80 years ago and sits in a residential neighborhood of quaint red brick houses, a 30-minute Metro ride from the nation's capital.

The Gores, the only famous members other than the newly-famous Phillips, joined in 1985, when Al Gore was a senator. The church is just around the corner from a home that belongs to Tipper Gore's family. They use the home as a refuge from Washington, D.C.

Though the Gores are members of Mount Vernon, they are not regulars. "They come maybe five times a year," Phillips says.

They came more frequently after their then-9-year-old son, Al III, was hit by a car in 1989 outside Memorial Stadium in Baltimore. "The son is particularly attached to the church," Phillips says.

The family has come today, Father's Day, in part to show their support for Phillips.

From the pulpit, she gives no inkling of any controversy about women and Southern Baptists. Instead, she reads, hesitantly, in a monotone, from her scripted sermon about fathers and talks about how God chooses people to serve him.

"Be prepared," she says, "for God may thrust an opportunity upon you at any moment. A nobody like me or you could become a somebody in an instant for God."

After the service, the Gores shake hands with other congregants and catch up as they make their way downstairs to coffee. They chat about how Al III has grown. Tipper Gore complains that she is exhausted.

Gore offers his thoughts on Phillips. "She's doing a great job," he says. "Tipper and I will vote for her if the offer is made to her."

He has belonged to the Southern Baptist denomination for most of his life. What will he do if Mount Vernon decides to drop out of the convention over the female pastor controversy?

He says he's not sure. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

As he chats, Tipper Gore, an avid photographer, grabs a camera from one of the deacons, Kathy Katcher, and tells Katcher to get close to Al.

"Let's take a nice one," Tipper tells her.

Phillips hangs back, not wanting to intrude on the vice president. Finally, she gathers the nerve to move forward and greet him and his wife.

In her office the next day, Phillips muses about the sudden attention that has come her way this week.

She chats on the phone with her brother, telling him that the Washington Post story ran just about everywhere. Her brother tells her he also saw it while sitting in a cafe in his home town of Schenectady, N.Y.

"When he saw my name," she laughs later, "he nearly spilled his coffee."

She says she would like the church to drop its affiliation with the Southern Baptist Convention, though she's not sure all members want to.

Mount Vernon Baptist Church has never been particularly loyal to the convention. It stopped sending delegates a few years ago, and some members didn't even know they are affiliated with the Southern Baptist Convention.

"Basically, the only thing we do is send them money," Phillips says. "That's why I would like to see us pull out."

Her father was a pastor, part of the small Independent Baptist denomination.

She says she always wanted to follow him to the pulpit but, as a child, was told that was not an option. "I was told women don't do that," says Phillips, who has 12 brothers and sisters.

Instead, she raised her two sons, earned a degree in psychology and counseled the mentally ill. A few years ago, she decided to follow her dream of going to a seminary. She enrolled at the John Leland Center for Theological Studies and now has a little more than a year of study left.

She got a job as associate pastor at Mount Vernon in September. In December, after the church's pastor retired, she became interim pastor. A search committee is expected to recommend a permanent pastor next month. Then the entire church -- including the Gores -- will vote.

Deacon Chris Loesch, a 35-year member of the church, says he is still making up his mind about Phillips. He says his concern is not her gender, but her experience. "I just wish she had more of it," he says.

What does he think of "Al Gore's female pastor" suddenly appearing on TV sets around the country? "I just hope she can handle it," he says.

Phillips says she wants to be the pastor, not associate pastor. If the church doesn't choose her, she'll move on -- probably to another denomination that is more accepting of women.

"I can't see staying here if I don't get it," she says. "I like to be my own boss."

But despite desire to be in control, she's says she stays grounded. "When we have a church dinner," she explains, "I cook it myself."

And no matter what the rest of the country's perception of her is, people around here don't refer to her as "Al Gore's pastor."

They call her Martha.

- Times researcher Caryn Baird contributed to this report.

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