by Herb Frazier
Malcolm Graham’s concerns are repeated again and again at events in Charleston and in editorials and articles published nationally. Pastor Joseph Darby questions the ability of politicians to change policy, and he describes the aftermath of the shooting as an “opportunity for something else to happen. You’ve got this vast store of good will, a bunch of folks who want to do something. Some of it is sincere, some of it is guilt driven—people who say, ‘I’m not Dylann Roof. He doesn’t represent me,’ but you have all that, and the time is right to put together some serious conversation that leads, hopefully, to new relationships that open the door to new solutions, hopefully, stuff that influences public policy.”21 So people, such as Darby and Graham, continue to write editorials and show up at events, such as the Public Broadcasting Service’s taping of “America After Charleston” or the town hall—subsequently broadcast on the A&E network—hosted by Mother Emanuel Church and moderated by singer Pharrell Williams and journalist Soledad O’Brien, called “Shining a Light, Conversations on Race in America.” During the taping, emotions ran high; many had stories to share about run-ins with law enforcement and the ways African Americans are perceived no matter who they are or what they’ve accomplished.
A&E and PBS were not the only media outlets focused on the aftermath of the church shootings. Numerous feature articles have appeared in the New Yorker magazine and the New York Times; around Thanksgiving Time magazine featured a lengthy cover story headlined “Murder, Race, and Mercy.” Almost daily a story appears about the church or the pending trial of the accused murderer, Dylann Roof. Noted documentary filmmaker Ken Burns and historian Henry Louis Gates Jr. traveled to Charleston in December for an evening called “American Fault Line: Race and the American Ideal.” Proceeds from it benefited the International African American Museum planned for Charleston. In October, Glamour magazine named two shooting survivors, Polly Sheppard and Felicia Sanders, and three relatives of the victims, Nadine Collier, Alana Simmons, and Bethane Middleton-Brown, in its Women of the Year awards.
In Charleston, groups such as Gun Sense South Carolina have been organized around the need for gun safety laws. In January 2016, more than twelve hundred congregations throughout the state joined in a Stand Up Sunday event to honor victims of gun violence and work to reduce the numbers. Myra Thompson’s husband, Anthony Thompson, released nine doves in front of Emanuel Church at the group’s press conference in early December. State Senator Marlon Kimpson of Charleston, a close friend of Senator Pinckney’s, proposed comprehensive gun-control legislation. One of its goals is to close a three-day waiting period that allows some people to purchase a gun before a background check has been completed. Since the tragedy, that waiting period has come to be known as “the Charleston loophole.” That rule and mistakes in the background-check system at the federal level allowed Dylann Roof to purchase a gun. Senator Kimpson also called for an assault weapon ban and a permit requirement for all guns.22 Both Polly Sheppard and Felicia Sanders also made public statements regarding gun control.
The Black Lives Matter organization in Charleston has been active on many fronts. They helped pull together Charleston’s Days of Grace march, rally, and conference during the 2015 Labor Day weekend. Hundreds participated, including some of the Emanuel Nine relatives. Many fund-raisers and events have filled Charleston’s vibrant arts community with numerous art shows, jazz and classical concerts, and poetry readings. A portrait of Pinckney, commissioned for the Charleston history wall in the hotel lobby at Charleston Place, was unveiled October 12, 2015. The pastor’s family and Mayor Riley were present.
Creative input came from around the country. Singers Peter Mulvey, Patty Larkin, Jeff Daniels, Vince Gilbert, and Paula Cole collaborated on a song titled “Take Down Your Flag.” A Presbyterian minister from Delaware wrote a hymn, “They Met to Read the Bible,” which Presbyterian congregations sang throughout the United States. And the band Coldplay has included a sample of President Obama’s rendition of “Amazing Grace” on their album, “A Head Full of Dreams.” Chris Martin, Coldplay’s lead singer, decided to include it and received permission from the White House “because of the historical significance of what he did and also that song being about, ‘I’m lost but now I’m found.’ ”23
The role of history and how it is perceived has come under intense scrutiny. A conference, “Remembering Charleston: Using Historic Sites to Facilitate Dialogue & Racial Healing,” was held November 4 and 5, 2015, in Charleston. Since it was widely known that the alleged killer visited many local historic sites—such as Fort Moultrie on Sullivan’s Island and Fort Sumter National Monument in Charleston Harbor—the conference was designed to provide knowledge, tools, and resources to facilitate dialogues around race and racism, heritage, and healing, both at the workplace and with visitors. National Park Service employees, local historic sites staff, and members of Emanuel Church were invited. Speakers included noted historian and coauthor Dr. Bernard Powers Jr., National Book Award–winner Edward Ball, and Michael Allen of the National Park Service, among others.
Allen has been revising interpretations at a number of historical sites in the Charleston area for decades, particularly those that exclude the critical role African Americans have played in the development of Lowcountry culture. He had just started a project coordinating the public’s understanding of the Reconstruction period after the Civil War when the church shootings occurred. Now those deaths have amplified the importance of his work.
Fellow Charlestonian Joseph McGill, a descendant of slaves and now a tour guide of restored slave cabins at Magnolia Plantation and Gardens, received national attention for the slave-dwelling project he launched in 2010. The goal of the project is filling what he calls “ ‘a void in preservation’ at Southern plantations and beyond.”24 As of late 2015, McGill had slept in more than seventy slave dwellings throughout the country to bring attention to the need to preserve the structures.
Joe Riley, who left office as Charleston’s mayor in January after forty years at city hall, remains committed to raising funds to build an International African American Museum in Charleston. His focus on education and historical accuracy is passionate.
What has happened at Mother Emanuel AME Church, a place that is now a pilgrimage site visited by people from all over the world? It has changed in many ways, from the police officer at the door every Wednesday night for Bible study and the dozens of people in attendance, to the white faces in the pews on Sundays. What do these kind of changes mean for a congregation still traumatized by the June 17 shooting? According to Darby, “some of the congregation haven’t come back. They’re going elsewhere. They say it doesn’t feel like home. There’s diversity etc., but it’s like when you have a death in the family you get visitors; then when the visitors go you get that one-on-one time to heal. They haven’t had time to heal; somebody’s been hovering over whatever goes on.”25
The numbers in attendance diminished by autumn 2015, but the church was still a different place in multiple ways. Emanuel has always been a traditional church, and before June 17 they were down to one service on Sunday, often with fewer than one hundred people in attendance. Many members had joined some of the new megachurches in town that have a less traditional approach to worship. According to Emanuel congregant Evelyn Sinkler, “The church has always been a family church—the Rose family, Jacksons, Bennetts—people whose parents and grandparents have been members of the church for as long as they can remember.” Sinkler says despite all the new faces in the crowd, few new members have actually joined the church, and in mid-October the crowds had diminished to the point where she could finally sit in her family’s pew again.26 There was some comfort in that ritual though, in general, church leaders and congregants have tried to celebrate the strangers in their midst. Evelyn’s brother, Thomas Rose, described it as a blessing. Interim pastor Norvel Goff saw a “cross-generational, cross-racial future for a church that is no longer restricted to its former self.”27
Goff is known f
or his inner strength, eloquence, and ability to step in and lead at a time of great need. In June 2015, he was presiding elder with the responsibility of managing thirty different churches in Charleston and areas south of the city. The additional responsibility for the pastoral care of Mother Emanuel was suddenly thrust on his shoulders. Given the circumstances, it was a daunting task. Despite the unprecedented challenges he faced, there were critics.
The two adults who survived the June 17 shooting, Felicia Sanders and Polly Sheppard, no longer attend Emanuel. It is extremely painful for either of them to be in the space where they experienced such horror. Sanders contacted Cress Darwin, pastor of neighboring Second Presbyterian Church, which had graciously broadcast the funeral for her son Tywanza and her aunt Susie Jackson on closed circuit television, since Mother Emanuel could not accommodate the huge crowds for their combined funerals in its sanctuary. Soon they were speaking on the phone daily and meeting once a week. Sanders joined the women’s Bible study, and she and her granddaughter attend on Wednesday nights and share a light supper. Sometimes one of her sisters joins her, and sometimes Sheppard comes too. According to Darwin, “This is what she looks forward to all week. It’s become a port.”28
Donations across the board have been extremely generous. The first fund to be established—within days of the shooting—was the City of Charleston’s Mother Emanuel Hope Fund, but there are many more, including scholarship and community funds. There is even a GoFundMe project that originated in New York to raise funds to deliver counseling to residents through art therapy. This kind of outpouring of attention and millions of dollars is not something any institution would be prepared for. According to attorney Wilbur Johnson, who represents the church, “It’s an unprecedented situation, and when it happens to a church like Emanuel, which doesn’t have a large staff, handling all of the mail that’s coming in every day can be overwhelming. The church is keenly interested in doing the right thing.”29
Cynthia Graham Hurd’s husband, Arthur Hurd, filed a lawsuit in early October 2015, requesting a complete accounting of all donations made to the church since June 17. On Thanksgiving Day, Emanuel announced plans to begin distribution of the monies that have poured in since the incident: of the $3.4 million donated to the church, $1.5 million would go to the families of the nine victims, as well as the five survivors. The church would keep $1.9 million. Funds will be released as soon as the lawsuit with Arthur Hurd is settled.
Feelings run high when it comes to the issue of these funds. Ethel Lance’s daughter, Nadine Collier, the first to offer forgiveness at Roof’s bond hearing, summed up the troubles brewing at Mother Emanuel best in an interview with the Post and Courier newspaper three months after her mother’s murder. She had returned to the church on August 30, 2015—the first time she had been there since her mother’s funeral. Inside the church, she said, “It wasn’t the same. Everything was different. I didn’t feel that warm welcome, that warm sensation, that happy-go-lucky sense I used to feel,” adding, “Emanuel AME Church has prospered from these nine victims. They don’t care about the families. That’s my opinion.”30
Others believe there is no wrongdoing on anyone’s part. Leon Alston, Emanuel steward pro tempore, said he had no problem with Rev. Goff. Alston has not missed a Bible study session since June 17, and Goff began leading those sessions June 25—as he led the church. Alston offers the following summary of the state of the church in the aftermath of the shootings: “The mission of the church is to become whole again, and in due time it will. Moving forward the church needs to address the issues of the survivors, and comfort and counsel, if possible, the families of the fallen nine members. The church needs a lot of restoration inside and outside. We have structural problems. The visitation is more diverse. People are coming out of curiosity, and they are coming for other reasons, to see where this horrific event happened on June 17. Is it healthy? It is human nature to be curious, to come to worship with the survivors. Because we all are survivors; the entire congregation are survivors.” Those who died “were our family,” he remembers. “We looked forward to seeing them every Sunday, and they took a Wednesday out of their lives to go and hear and learn about God. So whatever reason it brings [visitors] into the church is good because when they come they have to get something out of it because the same people are coming back.”31
The city of Charleston has taken steps to memorialize the fallen and remember the survivors. Emanuel trustee and Charleston city councilman William Dudley Gregorie introduced a resolution in late 2015, to name fifteen elm trees planted in a green space at the newly renovated Gailliard Center as a tribute to the Emanuel Nine, the five survivors, and the Emanuel congregation. A previous resolution introduced by Gregorie was approved—to rename a portion of Calhoun Street the “Mother Emanuel Way Memorial District” between Meeting Street and the Cooper River. “It will always be a visible reminder of the tragedy as long as the building stands,” Gregorie says. After the tragedy Gregorie suspended his effort to become Charleston’s next mayor to get personally involved in organizing nine funerals and select a site for Pinckney’s eulogistic service. Months later, Gregorie held back emotion when he reflected on Charleston’s and his church’s response to the massacre. It gave Charleston an opportunity to react “in a positive way; for the world to see how little old Mother Emanuel [was] not going to burn and pillage our city [but] protect the Holy City,” he says. Gregorie admits that black Charlestonians easily utter the words Holy City in the face of slavery’s legacy. “It was the Emanuel way that the city didn’t react violently,” he says.32
And the goodness that is brought each day to Emanuel AME Church far outweighs the troubles that have beset it. Volunteers have helped catalog the thousands of letters, cards, paintings, and prayer shawls. More than five hundred teddy bears have been received. “The correspondence alone is enough to fill thirty bankers boxes, and it’s growing every day,” notes the Post and Courier.33 An entire building on the church property is filled with materials that have been sent or dropped at the church’s door. It is a massive archiving project, but volunteers are getting help from the Smithsonian Institution; Charleston Archives, Libraries and Museums Council; and others. Deciding what to save was an issue only two months after the shooting. At that point only dying flowers were thrown away. It turns out sorting and storing artifacts is not unique to Emanuel Church, but the sheer magnitude is a new phenomenon. The Post and Courier reports, “While people have left flowers, stones and other personal mementos on graves for centuries, these sorts of public displays of mourning are relatively new. They appeared after the bombings at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City and at the Boston Marathon, after the massacre at Virginia Tech and the bonfire collapse at Texas A&M University. And some of the largest ones of all sprouted around lower Manhattan in the wake of 9/11.”34
The church itself has become a sort of tourist destination and a site of pilgrimage. Norvel Goff told the paper that visitors have “energized” the congregation, and that all who visit are welcome. “It’s become a touchstone for Charleston. People from around the world are coming to share how their communities have come together in their own way because of how this community came together.”35 Church historian and archivist Liz Alston (Leon Alston’s sister-in-law) is continually astounded by the generosity of complete strangers. Whether it’s Denzel Washington’s wife, members of the Democratic National Committee, or a visiting Egyptian family, the sheer good in people astounds her. Working from home one Saturday in December, organizing various visits to the church that weekend, Alston confessed, “My cynicism is at a standstill; my humility is growing.”36 Alston’s job is never ending, but she is unflappable. Years of serving on the contentious Charleston County School Board and, prior to that, as a high school principal prepared her for this role at this time.37 This is the church that Emanuel’s new pastor will lead.
On the fourth Sunday in January 2016, Mother Emanuel entered a new era of leadership when the Rev. Dr.
Betty Deas Clark was appointed pastor. The Awendaw, South Carolina, native is the first female pastor in Mother Emanuel’s history. She had been pastor of the historic Mount Pisgah AME Church in Sumter, South Carolina, founded in 1866.38 As she looks toward building upon the healing that has begun at Emanuel, Dr. Clark told the congregation, “It’s going to take me some time to sit with the people, cry with the people, talk to the people, then talk to God and ask him where do we go from here.”39 During the morning prayer, a female church member thanked God that he had sent a woman to heal the church and repair the brokenness.
In her sermon, “In Times Like These,” Dr. Clark admonished the congregation to embrace the changes that have occurred at Emanuel, and that although “the storms of life” will come, “you have to be very sure that you grip the rock” of God’s saving grace. The new pastor also encouraged church members to take advantage of Emanuel’s free grief counseling services as necessary steps toward healing.40 Emanuel is a busy place. The crowds at Bible study, however, have thinned, and fire marshals are no longer needed to block the doors on Sundays.
At Christmas 2015, the large basement room where nine beloved parishioners lost their lives was decorated with festive wreaths and garlands. A large, brightly lit tree filled a corner. On Saturday night the women’s ministry met for a Christmas dinner. Toward the front of the room was an arrangement of empty chairs covered in white cloth with a rose on each seat—one for each of the women who died there. This is still the church home of Emanuel’s congregational family—despite the new faces and the ones they will never see again—and they carry on and find strength in the faith that has brought them through all of life’s tribulations. They have witnessed the worst of human behavior, counteracted by the goodwill of thousands of strangers, in a small city by the sea, whose citizens have loved them fiercely and continually. Time has shifted here, and what happens next may be uncertain, but the long history of this church, the slave trade that built Charleston, and the continuing struggle to overcome the shackles of the past is the story of all of us. As President Obama reminded Americans on the day of Clementa Pinckney’s eulogistic service, “History can’t be a sword to justify injustice, or a shield against progress, but must be a roadway toward a better world.”41 A better world can come from this battered church in the heart of the Holy City.
