TORPY: Hate leads the shouting hour outside progressive churches

It was 10 minutes before Sunday’s service at St. Paul United Methodist Church when the amplified hell-and-brimstone squad arrived at its steps.

St. Paul’s is a 118-year-old church built by Confederate sympathizers in Atlanta’s Grant Park, now a tight-knit, well-to-do, progressive neighborhood. It’s the kind of place where “No Place For Hate” signs are planted in well-kept lawns. And the church, which touts itself as LGBT-inclusive, fits in well.

That’s why the protesters came. A small biracial crowd of about five has for the past year made the rounds to numerous intown churches to loudly let them know, with a microphone and signs, that they are an abomination.

Rev. Cassie Rapko, St. Paul’s friendly pastor, went out to greet her tormentors, even offering coffee. “I introduced myself, but it did not last long,” she said. “As soon as they realized I was the pastor, that was the stopping point. They don’t believe in women being ministers.”

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Rapko and others who have witnessed the protesters said they do not want to talk with you. They talk at you. Loudly.

“They were yelling at everyone coming out our doors, including the youth, which really riled up some of the members,” she told me.

One of the faithful who admitted getting riled was Megan Noble, a church trustee who tried to engage and even connect with the group.

Credit: Bill Torpy

Credit: Bill Torpy

“I said, ‘We all believe in Jesus,’ but they said, ‘You don’t believe your Bible. You’re going to hell,’” Noble said.

She noticed a gay man in the congregation teared up and muttered a word not to be heard around church.

A protester with a GoPro camera came to capture the interactions.

“During the service, you could hear chants outside that we’re going to hell,” Noble said.

It was about this time when a neighbor arrived to counter the amplified animosity with an ingenious solution: his leaf blower. John McVay also tried to engage with them but found it useless. “So I tried to create a consistent high-pitched din to drown out their sounds,” he said.

It may be the only time the sound of a leaf blower was welcomed.

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Rev. Rapko’s husband, Chris, is a minister at Atlanta First United Methodist Church on Peachtree Street downtown. That church has had the same visitors.

“It seems they are adjacent to Westboro,” he said, referring to the Topeka, Kansas-based Westboro Baptist Church, a nasty bunch that picket outside funerals and other events for pure shock value.

“My guess is they are looking at Atlanta churches that are openly inclusive,” Chris Rapko said. “It’s specifically about gay rights. I just wish they knew the same kind, loving God I know.”

Credit: Courtesy of Cassie Rapko

Chris Rapko was the pastor of another United Methodist in metro Atlanta when it disaffiliated in 2023. More than 6,000 of United Methodist’s 30,000 congregations have broken away in recent years after the church allowed same-sex marriages and gay pastors.

But those currently protesting Atlanta’s churches? Nobody seems to know who they are. I spoke with four preachers who have engaged with them. They’re sure they’re the same people each time. None have learned who they are. Police have been called several times, but there seem to be no reports.

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Rev. Anjie Rivers has seen the same protesters at two churches she has served, most recently last month at Eastside United Methodist in South Atlanta, where she is the pastor.

“They know the laws concerning what they can and cannot do, and they’ll argue with the police all day long,” she said. “This is what they do on Sunday morning. I think they genuinely believe we’re going to hell for doing bad things. I think in their soul, they believe they’re trying to save us from eternal damnation.”

Like the confrontation at St. Paul’s, people get flustered. She said a neighbor living near her church nearly came to blows with them.

No doubt, they’d feel happy to take a punch in the nose for the Lord. And it would make their targets look bad, which is why they record their encounters.

While the fire-and-brimstone shouters have set up outside ballgames and MARTA stations for decades, Rivers believes the culture wars and politics of the time feed the current lot. “I’m sure they’re feeling emboldened,” she said.

Rev. Matt Laney, pastor at Virginia-Highland Church, the one known for having a piano on its front porch, has endured them twice, most recently last Easter. This would seem to be a spectacle in that world only trumped by a Christmas visit.

“It was hateful and ugly and as far from the spirit of Jesus as you can get,” said Laney, who tried to give them snacks.

Credit: Courtesy of Cassie Rapko

His church is the United Church of Christ, so it’s not just the Methodists getting visits. I counted at least nine Atlanta churches. He echoed Rev. Rivers’ sentiments, saying, “I think we’re seeing a new level of hate being emboldened in this country.”

I see gay-friendly churches in Orlando recently have received the same treatment. Laney said his church also had its rainbow banner torn down a couple of times.

Back to St. Paul’s in Grant Park.

After failed discussions, offers of coffee and the leaf-blowing counteroffensive, the congregation finally came up with another strategy. At the end of the service, they processed out from the church and sang to the protesters: “Jesus Loves Me.”

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