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via notes and emails. Oh, and don't forget "wacko" from the Limbaugh Letter. Perhaps that's what happens when a Baptist minister asks if Jesus would shop at Walmart or com- pares today's corporate giants to Pharaoh of ancient Egypt, "the dominant corporation of his day," or takes on Albert Mohler, presi- dent of the Southern Baptist Teological Seminary. Or writes this about the South- ern Baptist Convention: "Its beliefs about the Bible, how to read it, how to frame it, the way it points, what it means to please God, on and on, are amazingly narrow and exclusive." (Asked for comment on Phelps, Mohler did not return a phone call or email by press time.) But Phelps knows what he's doing. He admits he's made mistakes. For one, he says, he should not have filmed his "Wake Up Walmart" ad in the church. It offended some members. Mostly, however, those who attend Highland know what they're doing, too, and understand what their pastor feels compelled to write. Says one parishioner, "For the most part we're supportive. I won't say we never disagree. But if Joe feels strong- ly, it's for a good reason." "Here's the thing," says Maples, High- land's associate pastor. "Te pastor is a per- son, but he represents a community. You can't take the title off when you want and go on your merry way. Te Walmart ad, the church had some trouble with that. Because we're a church that talks, we shared what we felt and moved on." To judge by his commentaries, there are times when Phelps must feel like the only active member of the Religious Left, if there is such a thing, and his church the exception to every denominational rule. A Friday ser- vice that attracts mostly recovering addicts? A Baptist church that openly welcomes gay and lesbian members? A pastor who'll mix it up on FOX News — the same network that offers a weekly show hosted by a conserva- tive Baptist preacher and former presidential candidate named Mike Huckabee? "I don't think we would look at ourselves as rebels," Maples says. "We try to be faith- ful to what Jesus would do. Maybe that looks radical to some people. I don't know. But we don't sit around over here thinking, 'Oh God, we're out there!' " In 2002, Highland, which began as an SBC church, ended its 100-plus-year rela- tionship with the SBC when, as Phelps says, "the parameters for which churches were in- cluded were severely tightened." "We've not been ostracized," Phelps says, "but we know we're not welcome in the Southern Baptist community. We don't want to fight. But there are some things we want to fight about." For this story, calls were placed to Ezell, Mohler and Bryant Wright, current presi- dent of the SBC and an old classmate of Phelps' at the seminary. None could be reached for comment, although representa- tives for Wright and Mohler returned calls, both curious as to the gist of this profile. T formality of it all. Te structure. Te liturgy. Communion. It could pass, but for Phelps' more scholarly approach to the Gospel reading (Matthew 2:1-12), as a Catholic mass. Once again, Phelps and his church aren't quite what they're expected to be. Afterward, as the rising sun almost blinds parishioners emptying onto Cherokee Road, Phelps stands at the door shaking hands and hugging his flock. It has almost doubled in size since he arrived 15 years ago. Te con- gregation now counts some 1,200 members, and the two Sunday services typically attract a total crowd of 500. Many of the Phelps era members are like David Hartley, 57, and Jerry Burske, 54, who joined Highland eight years ago. Tey've been life partners for twice that long. Tey had heard about the openness of the church and, of course, this wave-making pastor. (Of late, says Maples, who tracks the demographics, the church has attracted more young families, although a significant portion of the congregation is gay.) When Hartley and Burske first ap- proached Phelps about joining his church, the pastor took them to lunch at the Bristol and visited with them for hours. "Tat's how Joe is," Hartley says. "And that's how this congregation is. We discuss things. We don't let them simmer. We talk." And Joe Phelps writes. Whether others like it or not. After all, when he's preaching on Fridays he service is packed on this brisk Sunday morning in January. Standing room only. And what a first-time visitor is most struck by is the and Sundays, he can look to the back of the church and see 10 words inscribed in the stone above the door: "Be Ye Doers of the Word and Not Hearers Only." Q 2.12 LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE [63]