A Sunday for hallelujahs

RALEIGH, N.C. – Jubilation, pride and relief permeated pews and pulpits at predominantly black churches across the country on the first Sunday after Barack Obama’s election, with congregrants blowing horns, waving American flags and raising their hands from Raleigh to Los Angeles to the Atlanta church where the dream was born.

“God has vindicated the black folk,” the Rev. Shirley Caesar-Williams said as a member of her Raleigh congregation, Mount Calvary Word of Faith Church, brandished a flag and another marched among the pews blowing a ram’s horn.

“Too long we’ve been at the bottom of the totem pole, but he has vindicated us, hallelujah,” the Grammy-winning gospel singer cried.

In Harlem, Obama buttons and T-shirts were as prevalent in the pews as colorful plumed hats, while in a church in the former capital of the Confederacy, a young girl handled a newspaper with a photo of Obama and the headline “Mr. President.”

At Los Angeles’ oldest black church, ushers circulated through the aisles with boxes of tissues as men and women, young and old, wept openly and unabashedly at the fall of the nation’s last great racial barrier.

And on the day that the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. famously called “the most segregated day of the week,” black and white Christian clergy asked God to give Obama the wisdom and strength to lead the country out of what many consider a wilderness of despair and gloom.

At Hungary Road Baptist Church in a working-class suburb of Richmond, Va., the service was part celebration, part history lesson, led by a pastor who had felt the sting of the Jim Crow South. The Rev. J. Rayfield Vines Jr., pastor of the predominantly African-American congregation, paused briefly as he recalled the indignities he endured but did not bow to while growing up Suffolk, in southeastern Virginia.

“I was there when you had to ride in the back of the bus,” Vines said under a simple cross illuminated by eight light bulbs. “I was there when you went to the department store and you couldn’t try on the clothes. I was there when they had a colored toilet and a white toilet.”

The pastor said he shared his humiliations Sunday to help give those “who had not tasted the bitterness of segregation … an idea why we all shouted.”

At Harlem’s Abyssinian Baptist Church, member Sheila Chestnut, 61, wore a rhinestone Obama pin on her lapel.

“I am so happy,” she said. “I cried so much. I never thought that in this lifetime I would live to see an African-American become president.”

When the Rev. Calvin Butts invited the congregation to stand up “and give God praise for the election,” several hundred churchgoers rose as one, lifted their hands and gave a sustained cheer, then chanted, “Yes we can! Yes we can!”

At a white church in Mississippi, however, where roughly nine in 10 whites voted for Republican John McCain, the scene was more muted.

The neighborhood around the Alta Woods United Methodist Church in Jackson has seen its demographics shift from white to black in recent decades, and most of the parishioners have moved to the suburbs. While the Rev. David W. Carroll recognized Obama’s election as a “historic shift,” he spent just as much time praising McCain’s patriotism in defeat.

Perhaps nowhere was the weight of history more palpable Sunday than at Atlanta’s Ebenezer Baptist Church, from whose pulpit King spread his message of inclusion and across from which he lies entombed.

When the Rev. Raphael G. Warnock tried to put into words what it meant for Obama to win Virginia, where the first American slaves landed nearly 400 years ago, his words were drowned out by applause and cheers from a capacity crowd whose faces captured the spectrum of the human rainbow.

“Barack Obama stood against the fierce tide of history and achieved the unimaginable,” he said. “But he did not get here by himself. Give God some credit. He is the Lord.”

But while he told the congregation that it was a time for celebration, he also reminded them it was a serious time.

“We still have a whole lot of work to do,” he said. “You have two little girls who will grow up in the White House. Around the corner, you have two little girls who will grow up in a crack house.”

Among those in attendance was the slain civil rights leader’s sister, Christine King Farris. She was reminded of her brother’s prescience.

“As he predicted the night before he left us, ‘I may not be with you, but as a people we will reach the promised land,’ ” she said stoically. “That promised land was realized Tuesday. Yes, it is our promised land.”