It looked innocuous enough. As dawn broke over the lonely expanse in
the deep American south the rustic church stood in the distance -
beautiful yet foreboding.
It had stood there since the mid-1800s and if you ignored the few improvements to the pews and the flooring, entering it you would be transported back to an era in which people only traveled by horse and wagon and there were nothing but plantations for miles around. One didn't have to have too much of an imagination to picture horses being hitched to the wooden bar that was still anchored to the ground behind the church and parishioners in their Sunday best gathering there to worship.
It was also witness and testament to the ugly, racist past of the region. This had been a church exclusively for white plantation owners and their kin. Now, in twenty first century America, where segregation did not exist, at least according to the law, anyone could worship here.
There was, however, a caveat.
While racism may not be as overt as before it does rear its ugly head in some places, in different forms from time to time. A sign on the inside of the church read as follows:
'Original worshipers: Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, Sunday 9:00 a.m. - 11:00 a.m. Others: Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday 11:30 a.m. - 1:30 p.m.
'Original worshipers', also a misnomer of sorts, referred to the white folk and 'Others' to the black population. While it was a shared place of worship, the two groups did not meet at the same time. The half hour gap between the end of one service and the start of the next on Sundays highlighted the deep rooted racial divide. The two groups wanted to avoid even passing each other if they could manage that.
A week from Sunday this same church will be the scene of some of the worst racial violence that the U.S. has seen in decades. The trigger will be a black service that goes on too long and interferes with the planned communion celebration of the local sheriff's son. The all seeing all knowing God under whose roof the killings and violence will take place will look on, impassive, and not interfere as in countless other instances throughout human history.
For now, though, to a tourist like me, clicking away on my digital camera, this innocuous church with the rolling hills behind it and dawn breaking over it, certainly makes a pretty picture.
It had stood there since the mid-1800s and if you ignored the few improvements to the pews and the flooring, entering it you would be transported back to an era in which people only traveled by horse and wagon and there were nothing but plantations for miles around. One didn't have to have too much of an imagination to picture horses being hitched to the wooden bar that was still anchored to the ground behind the church and parishioners in their Sunday best gathering there to worship.
It was also witness and testament to the ugly, racist past of the region. This had been a church exclusively for white plantation owners and their kin. Now, in twenty first century America, where segregation did not exist, at least according to the law, anyone could worship here.
There was, however, a caveat.
While racism may not be as overt as before it does rear its ugly head in some places, in different forms from time to time. A sign on the inside of the church read as follows:
'Original worshipers: Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, Sunday 9:00 a.m. - 11:00 a.m. Others: Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday 11:30 a.m. - 1:30 p.m.
'Original worshipers', also a misnomer of sorts, referred to the white folk and 'Others' to the black population. While it was a shared place of worship, the two groups did not meet at the same time. The half hour gap between the end of one service and the start of the next on Sundays highlighted the deep rooted racial divide. The two groups wanted to avoid even passing each other if they could manage that.
A week from Sunday this same church will be the scene of some of the worst racial violence that the U.S. has seen in decades. The trigger will be a black service that goes on too long and interferes with the planned communion celebration of the local sheriff's son. The all seeing all knowing God under whose roof the killings and violence will take place will look on, impassive, and not interfere as in countless other instances throughout human history.
For now, though, to a tourist like me, clicking away on my digital camera, this innocuous church with the rolling hills behind it and dawn breaking over it, certainly makes a pretty picture.
