Morning at the Ebenezer Baptist Church

Atlanta is renowned as a beautiful city, pride of the South and the fastest growing city on the whole continent. There is a lot to see and admire in this antebellum city. However, the most important place to visit on a Sunday morning, whatever your religious belief, is the historic Ebenezer Baptist church founded 120 years ago. Martin Luther King preached here in his younger days and prepared himself for the leadership of the Black movement for racial equality. We were in the city because Evelyn had been invited to make a presentation in a medical conference. She was very busy but had reluctantly accepted the invitation. I did not have much to do and tagged along to carry her suitcase and provide company when she was not attending the events related to the conference.

I spent Friday and Saturday roaming around the downtown, gaping at the skyscrapers, visiting the sundry museums, and tasting wonderful southern delicacies in cafes and restaurants while Evelyn basked in the admiration of her fans. On Sunday, after a leisurely breakfast of coffee and gorgeous pancakes with heaps of butter and Aunt Jemima syrup, we dressed formally as we would to go to a church at home and headed for the ten o’clock service at the famous church. We arrived there half an hour early expecting a big crowd at the door. We were not disappointed; the queue went around the whole block. People in the orderly crowd were visitors to Atlanta, largely black women and men worshippers with a sprinkling of white spectators. Members of the regular congregation, cheerful black men and women of all ages, men dressed in their best suits and heavily made up women dressed in beautiful dresses and decked in colourful hats, were allowed to enter the church as they arrived. Fifteen minutes before ten, the doors were opened to the visitors. Fortunately, every one could be accommodated in the cavernous hall although every seat was taken by the time pastor and his assistants entered the podium with appropriate ceremony from a side door.

After spirited singing of traditional spirituals by the church choir made up of at least a hundred excellent singers, the pastor welcomed the congregation, particularly the visitors and asked those present to hold the hands of persons on their either side and introduce themselves. This done he asked every one to join in singing Amazing Grace. Fortunately the building was exceptionally well built and the chorus of more than a thousand singers did not bring the roof down in spite of their best efforts. Then the announcements of church activities for the next week followed. I noticed that many of them related to what would generally be considered the domain of the schools.

Now was the time for the sermon. The pastor was a short frail looking man with thick curly hair on a large head with a big nose, full mouth and jutting out ears. He walked on the podium from one end to the other, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, to suit the subject matter of the sermon. He held a microphone with a very long cord in his right hand and punched the air with the left. His booming baritone voice was pleasant to the ear. I don’t remember him to have stood still for a moment except for the time he stared at his captivated audience and chastised the men among them for neglecting their families; abusing their wives and the children and abdicating the responsibilities they took upon themselves when they befriended the women and got them pregnant. He went on to talk about the unfortunate consequences of rampant alcohol and drug abuse and chastised the youths wasting their time in frivolity rather than using it to build the foundation of a fruitful life. It was at this juncture that he told the story that made his sermon so memorable.

“My friends, you all have enjoyed the fabulous amenities hotels provide these days. You arrive at your destination. You head for a hotel, by yourself or with your friends. You check in, collect the room keys, go to the room, inspect the bar. You take what you want from it, order the room service to bring food and more drinks, charge the restaurant bill to the room and enjoy every moment of your stay. Just before check out time on your last day you pack and head for the checkout desk. The clerk greets you with a smile and presents you the bill highlighting the amount you owe for all the fun you have had. You look at it, the shock waves go through your body and you stammer that there must be some mistake. The clerk goes inside the office and comes out with several pages of a computer printout. Every item that you have consumed is listed on it. You go through it with a fine tooth comb. Of course you don’t find any errors and grudgingly pay what she asked for.”

Now he stood facing the audience, raised himself to his full height, raised his voice to match that of the thousand member choir we had heard earlier, “Friends, when you go to meet your creator in the next world and challenge Him when faced with the consequences of sins you have committed, there will be a computer printout of everything you have done in this life, from the day you were born to the day you die. There will be no escape, none.” Now he bent forward almost horizontal from waist up, his voice softened to a whisper and added as if conspiratorially in each ear, “It is you, my friend, you alone who decides what goes in that printout.” He paused for a minute for it to sink in and straightened up. “And now, ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, let us pray.”

I was unusually down hearted on the way out. The thought of a printout listing every act in my life scares me to this day although it does not stop me from actions which I repent no sooner they are done.

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