This Friday, July 25, is your last day to start or renew - - - - |
"HOW MANY OF YOU WOKE UP THIS MORNING AND SAID, 'GOOD MORNING, LORD!'?" BY SARAH GARB - - - - Bishop Fred Caldwell opened his sermon from behind a clear, dove-etched Plexiglas podium that stood in front of a beautifully painted nature scene. A crystal chandelier dangled overhead. "And who just woke up and said, 'Good Lord, it's morning!'? I'm 'on preach to y'all this morning—y'all need some preachin' to!" Two women in the second row stretched their arms forward, kinesthetically seconding the preacher's words, while a pair of young boys nearby, one dressed in camouflage, drew intently in a notebook. During the month of August, Bishop Caldwell paid white people five dollars to attend the Sunday services at Greenwood Acres Full Gospel Baptist Church, aiming to end eleven o'clock Sunday mornings as being "the most segregated hour in Shreveport." Thursday evenings were valued at ten dollars a pop. My roommate, Megan, and I were the only takers on the last Sunday of this unique incentive. First came "the dedication of a child back to the Lord." A wiggly six-year-old with white beads terminating her cornrows did her best to repeat after Caldwell the words of her allegiance. "I accept you as my Lord, Jesus," Caldwell modeled. "I don't know how to say that!" the little girl replied. She made an admirable attempt with the rest, and was officially the Lord's child once the church members raised their arms to close the deal. As we held our arms extended, my skin struck me as outrageously white. When the call came for all visitors to stand, we stood to receive our due share of scrutiny, turned from side to side, and smiled broadly enough to send our unspoken sentiments to the far corners of the sanctuary. Thank you for welcoming us into your sacred place of worship. We come bearing good will, we wanted to shout. Another group of visitors from New Orleans was also standing, though they were not as conspicuously standing out. We then took our seats once again, but were not off the hook. Caldwell spoke to us directly in front of the entire congregation. "Are you with the media?" Caldwell asked. As we heard the sound of 500 heads swiveling in our direction, I fumbled out, "No, we're from Baton Rouge." "And how did you get here this morning?" "Oh, well, speeding a little, I'm afraid." "Actually, we're teachers in a small town north of Baton Rouge," Megan chimed in. "We sometimes attend church with our students, and when we heard about what you were doing, we wanted to come see for ourselves." I mentally stockpiled acceptable responses to the further inquiries I feared would follow. "Please summarize your relationship with God in twelve words or less," I was sure Caldwell would ask next. Thankfully, though, the dropping of the golden "we're teachers" line seemed to satisfy the preacher and allow us to shuffle out of the spotlight and resume our posts as observers. Caldwell then warned the congregation that the next item of business had "some teeth to it" and stepped forward to walk among the pews and "show I ain't afraid of ya." Caldwell announced that for the next service, he wanted everyone to bring his or her entire week's paycheck as an offering to the church. He told members not to think about it at all. Caldwell invoked Nike's name and quoted their slogan: "Just do it." A ripple went through the crowd as people considered his request. One young woman would come forward at the end of the service to encourage all to accept this challenge. "When you said that I was like, 'First he wants to pay white people to come here, now he wants us to give our whole paycheck?!' But it's taken me eight years to believe in you, and I'm gonna do it. Next week, I'm bringing my whole paycheck." "I'm just trying to getcha blessed," Caldwell clarified. "Tryin' to getcha blessed," the pews echoed. The band struck up an up-tempo, "give-us-your-money-and-be-buoyant-about-it" jazz number and ushers led church members row by row to go place their offering envelopes in the collection bucket. Once the two casino-style cash-counters had bundled several hundred bills, Caldwell plunged into the heart of his message for the week. "Prejudice is ugly!" Caldwell declared. "Amen!" seconded the pews. "God is tired of racism." "Ok?" agreed the audience. "God is tired of bigotry." "C'mon, now!" "God is tired of segregation." "Amen!" Caldwell enlightened the congregation about the many different sources contributing to this "racist situation in America," including the "liberal media [that] loves keepin' the races divided." "Some whites have a superior attitude. And some Negroes are more prejudiced than some white folk!" "Tell it like it is!" "Some are also quite intelligent," Caldwell continued. "And all of us don't like fried chicken and not all of us play basketball. All white folk didn't do nothin' to you. All black folk didn't do nothin' to you. Can I cut it straight?" "Tell it, Bishop!" "Say that!" "The month of August is not about the five dollars," explained Caldwell, but about integration. "Sunday morning, Shreveport is at its blackest and whitest," and inviting whites to his church was Caldwell's way of starting to bridge the gap. "Can I get a witness up here, then?" "Praise the Lord!" "Hallelujah!" Throughout the sermon, Caldwell maintained a dynamic pace and presence. He cracked jokes, cited pop culture, danced on stage. Toward the end of the sermon, he even told the churchgoers: "You gotta remember, I didn't have my medicine today!" When asked if he minded being quoted, he replied, "Get the tape and quote all of it!" After the service, a few church members approached us and chatted for a little while, thanking us for coming, before two different news stations intercepted us. "Well you see," I adroitly informed my interviewer, "we're teachers in a small town north of Baton Rouge. We sometimes attend church with our students, and when we heard about what Bishop Caldwell was doing, we wanted to come see for ourselves." It was not until we were driving home that we realized we had been in church for four hours.
OTHER McSWEENEY'S FEATURES:
Realize Your Destiny in Twelve Easy Steps By Sean Carman Words and Expressions Commonly Misused by Insipid Brothers-in-law By Dennis DiClaudio The Dick and Jane Reader for Advanced Students By Matthew Kennedy Early Bird Report Card By Pasha Malla About the Meet the Teacher Night, By Ken Krimstein |
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