Only two years into his big city pastorate at First Baptist Church of Richmond, Jeremiah Bell Jeter at age 36 engineered a major change. It was a threatening change not only to members of his congregation but also to fellow citizens in Virginia's capital city. It was a daunting challenge to the existing social order.
When he came to the Richmond pastorate in 1836, he found that it had 400 white members and “about 2,000” black members. Although it was a bi-racial congregation, in the customs of the times, it really was two congregations under one roof. The social order dictated separate seating, although the space for blacks was “utterly insufficient”; and besides, Jeter felt that “the style of preaching demanded by the white congregation was not well adapted to the instruction of the colored people.” It was as if he had to preach to two different congregations at the same time.
Jeremiah Jeter
He envisioned separate churches. There were difficulties in executing such an idea. First, the blacks were unable to financially afford a separate building. But the second challenge was that it simply was not done. There were few separate independent churches for blacks in the antebellum South. The Southampton insurrection of Nat Turner in 1831 had led to laws regarding the assembling of blacks. It was required that a white person supervise even religious gatherings. In addition, abolitionists had stirred so much controversy that anything which smacked of improvements for blacks—slaves and freemen—were met with opposition. It was an anathema to be labeled as someone who might possess liberal views in regards to slavery.
Jeter soon discovered that “public sentiment was opposed” to the formation of a separate, free and independent church for the black members of the Baptist church. The opposition came from a large segment of the community. Jeter recalled: “Many pious people looked with distrust, if not with hostility, on all new measures for the religious instruction of the Negroes.” And as far as the “irreligious persons—gamblers, barkeepers and the like”—they were “bitter and fierce in their opposition to the proposed organization.”
Jeter further explained: “[The irreligious] were hostile, indeed, to all religion, but as the white churches were too well fortified by public sentiment to be safely attacked, they concentrated their opposition against the proposed African church and appealed to fears ….”
The controversy rumbled within the church. There must have been some weak-kneed brethren who questioned and quaked. What was this young new preacher visiting upon us? What will happen if we go along with this plan? What will our neighbors think?
A plan had been proposed by which the church would vacate its building, build another further down the street and sell the old home to the new black church. Benefactors would be cultivated to enable the blacks to purchase the old building. But once the plan began to develop, the opposition mounted within and especially beyond the congregation.
Jeter faced the supreme test of his ministerial career. Nothing in his early experiences as Virginia Baptists' first state missionary or in his rural pastorates had prepared him for the turmoil. He had to feel his way through each day's crisis and situation. At any point he could have lost the church, the larger public's confidence and a promising career.
He deliberately sought the support of some of the leading citizens of the community. He consulted with some pastors and proposed a meeting of all the clergy in the city. William S. Plumer, pastor of First Presbyterian Church, advised against such a meeting. “Don't do it! The clergy may decide against your plan; but it is right—the law is in your favor—go forward in the work; and if you have trouble, I will stand by you.”
Jeter found a ready ally in James Thomas, a young businessman who only a short time before had joined the Baptist church. The businessman knew the right contacts to cut the red tape and to secure the funds needed so that the blacks could acquire the building. Another ally was found in Robert Ryland, the brilliant young president of the Baptist school, Richmond College. Ryland would satisfy the requirement that a white minister preside over meetings of blacks. He became the beloved first pastor of the First African Baptist Church of Richmond.
Jeremiah Bell Jeter faced the challenge by securing a plan, seeking a coalition and showing raw courage. There were plenty of other challenges waiting for the minister; but the crisis over the black congregation proved that he was adequate for whatever might come. Jeremiah Bell Jeter's vision and courage set his church and community on a new course.
Down through the ages, the First Baptist Church and the First African Baptist Church have been forces for good in Richmond. In recent decades there have been joint ventures conducted by the two churches, which are bound together by historic ties and contemporary concerns for the city they share.
Read more about Jeter and the development of First Baptist and First African churches in a new book entitled The Open Door, a history of First Baptist Church. To order a book contact the church at (804) 355-8637.