Churches: The Faith of Soul & Slavery

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For millions of white Americans, the televised services for the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. at Atlanta's Ebenezer Baptist Church marked their first opportunity to observe the soul and spirit of the black man's Christian faith. Compared with the austere and stately worship at most mainstream Protestant or Roman Catholic churches, the funeral service was almost unbearably emotional. The simple, old-fashioned hymns, sung with tearful intensity by the church choir, were pure "soul"; a succession of black-robed speakers praised the memory of Dr. King in fustian oratory rich with Biblical imagery. In effect, it was a crystalline demonstration of the fact that Negro churches, by and large, are fundamentalist in outlook and still bear the marks of their origin as the spiritual hope of a people who once were slaves.

The Negro churches began in the south as meetings in the plantation fields, where slaves bewailed their torment in song and preaching. Although barred from joining white churches, Negroes were visited by white evangelists, who instilled in them the fervor and faith of oldtime religion.* The Negro accepted the doctrines but brought to the spirit of worship an intensity arising from repression. Hymns reflected both the African origin of the Negro and the agony of his existence. Sermons emphasized the vision of beatitude in the promised land; the congregation—condemned to submission and silence elsewhere—was free here to give public vent to its yearnings in cries of "Amen." Says John Lewis of Atlanta, former chairman of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee: "The church was the only place where Negroes could come together. Their songs were for themselves alone."

Led by Reverends. Even after the abolition of slavery, the church was for decades the only place where the Negro could participate in any kind of real community life. The pastor—as the only Negro not dependent on the white man for his pay—also became the natural community leader. This is still true of the South. The vast majority of Southern Negroes are enrolled members of churches, and the civil rights movement has been led in great measure by men with "the Rev." before their names.

In urban areas, particularly in the North, Negro churches—like their white counterparts—have been suffering from a steady erosion of influence. One problem is that college-educated Negroes, as they gain in affluence, tend to abandon fundamentalist churches. Says Detroit N.A.A.C.P. Leader Robert Tindal, describing the Negro's Christian status ladder: "When you're poor, you're Baptist; when you advance slightly, you become a Methodist; when you arrive you're an Episcopalian." By comparison with King and other outspoken Southern pastors, the majority of Northern clergy have been much more passive in the struggle for equality—and have allowed the movement to fall into militant secular hands. Like many white churches, Negro congregations have found themselves alienated from skeptical youth—and teen-age looters in the recent riots were clearly not guided by obedience to the Ten Commandments. "They don't hear you when you say, Thou shalt not kill,'" admits the Rev. Clyde Williams of Atlanta. "They say, 'We've tried love and that didn't get us anything.' "