While I stood with the other parishioners at this church everyone began to clap, snap and rock back and forth to the best church music I have ever heard. Through my African-American studies in college I knew that the music was a combination of hymns and slave songs that have carried over in the faith for more than 200 years., closed my eyes and imagined being a slave and singing those songs outloud and proud 200 years ago while my masters looked on in amazement at the fact I would not bow down. It sent chills up my arms and for a minute was overcome with emotion.
The music was loud and long and it created a mindset that God is all powerful and the light of life. While the church I attended regularly also believed this it did not send the message out in loud screaming songs of praise and happiness. When the music was done and I looked around everyone was shining and smiling and ready for church.
The pastor stepped to the podium and addressed us with a shout and a challenge. He screamed "How many of you sinned this week?"
Everyone around me shouted out I did...yes I did!
It was hard not to get caught up in their enthusiasm and start shouting myself, but my Baptist modest roots kept me quiet at that moment.
I was impressed with the enthusiasm the parishioners showed though not ready to join in their participation of the service. In a traditional white Baptist church the pastor stands up front and lectures and talks while the people in the congregation sit quietly and take notes or nod in agreement.
This church was different than anything I had experienced and I was pleasantly surprised at the feelings that came over me as I listened to my first interactive church service.
The preacher would walk up and down the aisle shouting out the sermon. He would stop periodically and shout out a challenge or a bible verse and the person who...
By the time the service was half over I found myself participating as if I had been a member of that church for years.
People around me patted me on the back when I finally got an answer right and before the others and the pastor shook my hand and handed me a jolly rancher.
After the service was over, which was finished with more music and the passing of the plate people did not rush to leave as is the custom in my Baptist church. Instead they stood around outside, in the church, on the steps and in the parking lot talking. Children were running and playing tag with each other and teens were off in the corner trying to look like they were not having a good time but I could tell they were still on fire from the sermon we had just witnessed and taken part in.
Several people asked me about my work and my studies and I told them truthfully why I had come to their church that morning. Several of them smiled and one family invited me to follow them to their home to take part in a traditional African-American Sunday dinner. I went and it was a wonderful and filling experience.
The reason I went to the service was to help my clients. Once I got there, as happens in many life situations, I found that I was the student, not the teacher. I enjoyed the service and found several new friends that I still call and get together with frequently.
A still attend the Baptist church but once every few months I skip my traditional upbringing and run off to attend the most lively service I have ever experienced. The African-American church provides love, excitement, fire and history all in one and I enjoy seeing it come alive every few months.
