Last Sunday, I peeled myself out of bed and made it to Calvary Baptist Church by 11 a.m. I wish I could say that I did this on my own initiative, but no, I went for a class.
Sure, this was an assignment?but that is not to say that I wasn’t excited to go. It was a joyous feeling just to be awake and dressed in a clean outfit at that time on a Sunday morning.
I must admit that my excitement was mixed with a little anxiety. I usually go to church to nap, and I knew that this day in church would require a little more active involvement.
My professor, also the pastor at Calvary, informed us that singing and responding to his sermon were parts of the deal.
He also let my classmates and I know that we would be some of the only white people there. This would be something new, and even intimidating, for many of us. For once, we wouldn’t be the majority.
I pulled up to the church very aware of my whiteness. Maybe the congregation would find it strange that I was there?the color of my skin made me an obvious outsider. I could just see people saying to themselves, “Oh look, a sheltered-Utahn-white-chick trying to experience some culture.”
My assumptions could not have been further from the truth. Oh, I was definitely white, and I definitely stuck out, but that seemed to matter very little to everyone else there.
Relieved of my earlier trepidation, I took my seat with all the rest of my classmates?it wasn’t too difficult to spot our group.
I was lucky to even have a seat. The place was absolutely packed with people dressed to give the term “Sunday best” new meaning.
The older ladies wore ornate hats that matched their outfits to the last stitch. The children looked like they stepped right out of a catalogue?the girls with satin ribbons in their hair and even the youngest boys dressed in three-piece suits.
The same children actually led the first part of the service. This was seriously amazing. Some of these kids looked like they hadn’t learned to walk too long ago, yet they were standing up?singing and dancing with confidence?in front of the huge crowd.
They recited scripture, they sang solos, two of them even translated the sermon in sign language. One girl, no older than 6, stood up with the microphone and bolted, “Good morning, Calvary!”
When our response wasn’t loud enough, she said louder, “You can do better than that! Good morning Calvary.” Going to church seemed more like something fun to do than a chore for these kids.
Honestly, I think I had just as much of a good time. During one song in particular, we stood up, sang a verse, and then hugged a different person around us on the chorus. This was great. How often do you get to hug strangers randomly without being physically assaulted?
After that song, I felt completely comfortable to get into the whole Baptist thing. By the end of the service, I was singing instead of lip syncing, and I was clapping with less timidity.
Alright, maybe I didn’t totally fit it, but I couldn’t help but note how natural the presence of my classmates and I felt there. At one point in Calvary’s early history, the congregation split into the “Blue Vein Society.” Those with skin light enough to see the veins on their arm sat apart from the “colored” members who could not see their veins.
With that in mind, how great was it that I, in my blatant whiteness, could sit among a predominantly African American congregation relatively unnoticed?
Needless to say, I was all about the Baptist experience. Even as the white student who had to be there for class, I took a great deal away from there.
I thought on my way out how I wanted to go back and take more people with me?spoiled white people who feel just fine in Utah’s whitewashed cultural setting. We should be the minority at least once. You don’t realize how comfortable you can become while looking from a seemingly uncomfortable vantage point.
Jennifer welcomes feedback at: [email protected].