Cultural expedition exploration and anthropological significance

¶ … person account of attending an African-American church service as a white male. The writer explores the differences between the African-American service and the service that he is used to attending. He examines music differences, preaching differences and the differences in the reactions of those in the audience.

Again, this is a personal reaction paper and can include "I" statements.

As a counselor for the Department of Mental Health in my geographic area many of my clients are African-American. My office is in the inner city in a predominately Black area therefore most of the clients that I see are African-American mixed white/black. For a long time I resisted getting involved with the area and its events and local color. I felt that my professional position prohibited me from interacting with the neighborhood lest I run into one or more of my clients and create an uncomfortable situation. This belief lasted until I built a regular clientele and realized how important it is that I come to understand their spiritual strengths and beliefs. I am a white male who works with almost all African-Americans. In addition to the obvious demographic difference in our skin color there is a fundamental difference in our spiritual upbringing as well. Many of my clients are deeply religious and spiritual and when they are in session the subject of their church or beliefs comes up again and again. After several months of this occurring I realized that I could be better equipped to help my clients if I attended one of their church services and had a first person understanding about what they do at church and what they believe.

While most of my clients invited me to church on a regular basis I believed it was important for me to locate a church that was a fair distance away from the area that most of my mental health clients reside in. This was to prevent any future conflict of interest. It was also so that none of my clients would feel uncomfortable or embarrassed by having their counselor show up at one of their intimate places, their house of worship. What I did instead was choose an African-American church that was about 20 miles outside of the my office area and I was quite confident that I would not encounter any of my clients or co-workers at the service.

When Sunday morning came I will freely admit I felt apprehensive. I have never been to an African-American church and I had no idea what to expect. I was also concerned about what the congregation would think when they saw me walking to the pews.

A quickly noticed there was only one service offered, unlike the Baptist church I was used to attending which offered three each Sunday morning and also an evening service. This church offered one service but it was to last two and a half hours as opposed to the 60 minute services I have grown up with. I will admit this almost caused me to change my mind because I could not imagine sitting through almost three hours of a service or sermon but I decided it was for the good of my profession to attend and see what my clients embraced so I went.

As I entered the church I again felt apprehensive because from what I can tell I was the only white person in the entire church. Out of maybe, 400 parishioners there was one white male and it was me. I now realize how my clients must feel when circumstances take them into predominately white situations and they are the only blacks.

A sat in the front row. I figured I was there to learn and should get the best seat in the house.

A arrived early so I could look around and many of those who came after me shook my hand and welcomed me to their church. It felt good to be greeted in such a warm and friendly manner by strangers.

When the service started my nervousness was replaced by surprise. The music was amazing. The music that I had grown up with consisted of slow, low, somewhat boring hymns that have ben used since the beginning of the faith it seems.

While I stood with the other parishioners at this church everyone began to clap, snap and rock back and forth to the best church music I have ever heard. Through my African-American studies in college I knew that the music was a combination of hymns and slave songs that have carried over in the faith for more than 200 years., closed my eyes and imagined being a slave and singing those songs outloud and proud 200 years ago while my masters looked on in amazement at the fact I would not bow down. It sent chills up my arms and for a minute was overcome with emotion.

The music was loud and long and it created a mindset that God is all powerful and the light of life. While the church I attended regularly also believed this it did not send the message out in loud screaming songs of praise and happiness. When the music was done and I looked around everyone was shining and smiling and ready for church.

The pastor stepped to the podium and addressed us with a shout and a challenge. He screamed "How many of you sinned this week?"

Everyone around me shouted out I did...yes I did!

It was hard not to get caught up in their enthusiasm and start shouting myself, but my Baptist modest roots kept me quiet at that moment.

I was impressed with the enthusiasm the parishioners showed though not ready to join in their participation of the service. In a traditional white Baptist church the pastor stands up front and lectures and talks while the people in the congregation sit quietly and take notes or nod in agreement.

This church was different than anything I had experienced and I was pleasantly surprised at the feelings that came over me as I listened to my first interactive church service.

The preacher would walk up and down the aisle shouting out the sermon. He would stop periodically and shout out a challenge or a bible verse and the person who answered the most quickly got a piece of candy from the pastor and a hand shake.

When I first decided to go to the church I had the attitude it was for research so that I can better serve the clients in my mental health practice. By the time the service was half over I found myself participating as if I had been a member of that church for years.

People around me patted me on the back when I finally got an answer right and before the others and the pastor shook my hand and handed me a jolly rancher.