Episcopal Churches' Breakaway in Va. Evolved Over 30 Years

Prichard contends that charismatic worship is vital to understanding these congregations because it paved the way for them to join the broader evangelical movement, which emphasizes being "born again," having a personal relationship with Jesus and reading the Bible as the wholly true word of God.

Unlike many Episcopal churches nationally, neither Truro nor The Falls Church was active in supporting the civil rights movement or in protesting the Vietnam War.

"I don't remember any political sermons at all," said Al Long, 80, who has been a member of The Falls Church since 1959. "We go there to find out what the Bible says and how we're supposed to live and relate to each other and the Lord. . . . And that's it."

Beginning in the 1970s, though, Truro embraced the antiabortion movement. It also started a program to help those who wanted to leave what it calls the "homosexual lifestyle."

"These emphases have never been mainstream within the Episcopal Church," said Joan Gunderson, a Pittsburgh scholar who is writing a history of the Virginia Diocese. "But there is a movement they are tapping into that is larger than just the Episcopal Church."

As Truro and The Falls Church adopted a conservative approach, dissenting members retreated to more liberal Episcopal churches in the area, such as Christ Church Alexandria. New worshipers, many of them born-again Christians who had grown disillusioned with their denominations, streamed in.

At Truro, "we don't have to water down the Gospel," said Mary Springmann, a member of the vestry and a born-again Christian who was raised Catholic.

These days, Truro is a magnet for conservatives across the Washington area, and the percentage of "cradle" Episcopalians among its 2,000 regular worshipers has dropped steadily. In the 1980s, more than two-thirds of its members had been raised Episcopalian, according to church surveys. Today, fewer than 40 percent grew up in the church.

Truro's red brick campus sprawls over four leafy acres at the intersection of two of Fairfax City's busiest arteries. In the vaulted main sanctuary, the church embodies the centuries-old traditions of its Anglican heritage -- stately rows of candles, organ pipes set into the wall behind an ornate crucifix and wooden pews equipped with fold-down kneelers.

In the labyrinthine hallways, shelves of books reflect the church's conservative bent: advice on evangelizing to "unbelievers" and "liberal secularists," how to "engage the culture with absolute Biblical truth" and tracts against the "occultism" of the New Age movement.

The Falls Church, whose historic sanctuary dates from 1769, draws almost 2,500 worshipers to its services on an average weekend.

Goss has attended with his family for years. He said he draws spiritual sustenance from the church's strong emphasis on the teachings of Jesus. "It's a congregation that really exhibits the love of Christ," he said last week. He declined to comment on the current controversy.

At least two-thirds of the worshipers are Methodists, Presbyterians or Baptists, and there is no pressure on them to be confirmed as Episcopalians, said the Rev. Rick Wright, associate rector.

Wright said the diverse membership of both congregations illustrates one of the great changes in American religion of the past half-century: The divisions between denominations are far less important today than the divisions within denominations.

"I tend to feel very comfortable rubbing shoulders with folks at McLean Bible or Columbia Baptist . . . that are real orthodox, evangelical, biblical churches," said Truro's chief warden, or lay leader, Jim Oakes, referring to two Northern Virginia megachurches. "We share core beliefs. I think I would be more comfortable with them than with anyone I might run into at an Episcopal Diocesan Council meeting."

In some popular services, Truro and The Falls Church blend the traditional liturgy of the Book of Common Prayer with such megachurch touches as huge choirs, bass guitars and drums. Neither offers "smells and bells," the incense and chimes favored by "high church" Episcopal congregations. But some parishioners affectionately describe Truro as "McLean Bible with candles."

Attitudes toward homosexuality are one of the brightest lines between the liberal and conservative camps. But few members of Truro or The Falls Church say the division is, fundamentally, about whether to bless sex-same couples or whether to ordain gay ministers -- the issues that have strained relations between the Episcopal Church and the rest of the 75 million-member Anglican Communion, the worldwide family of churches descended from the Church of England.

Many say the rift involves something deeper -- whether the Bible is the word of God, Jesus is the only way to heaven and tolerance is more important than truth. When he was a newly ordained priest almost 20 years ago, Wright said, he talked with several other priests about how to respond to a teenager who asked, "Do you really believe in the Resurrection of Jesus?"

"The rest of the priests agreed that it was a sticky question, and they felt that way because they didn't believe in it, but they didn't want to say so," he said. "That's where the Episcopal Church has been for the last 20 years. It's not where we are."