Integration comes one church pew, and $5, at a time

The bishop's Bible-bucks idea has been simmering for years. He's been thinking about it for a decade now, though the $5-an-hour offer came to him as if from the voice of God during a sermon two Sundays back. "There are five and a half billion people on the planet, and God gave this idea to me," he tells his congregation.

Most whites who come to Caldwell's 4,000-member church have refused the money: Ms. Bradley, selling books and T-shirts in the lobby and standing by to help people fill out payment cards, says they usually donate instead. But the very idea of payment-for-pews has drawn critics. In a letter and press release, the Full Gospel Baptist Church Fellowship board - an organization Caldwell helped found - has worried that money might draw some to the pews "for wrong motives" or introduce the "root of all evil" into the church.

Caldwell addressed those fears last Sunday - and drew a round of "amens" when he raised his voice: "Money is not the root of all evil; the love of money is," he roared. Having paused for effect, he tried a James Brown impression, and drew laughs: Caldwell, a born orator, is not the best singer in the choir.

Shreveport's "race problem" came to a head most recently in 1998, when several hundred people organized a forum called "A Conversation About Race" - with what Caldwell describes as meager results. His frustration has resurfaced now, in part, because of the recent police shooting of an unarmed black man - and the subsequent police claim of mistaking the man's shiny metallic cellphone for a gun.

In the wake of protests by black leaders, which resulted in the police chief's resignation, a group of white citizens formed a group called "Back the Badge" to support police. Mayor Keith Hightower took criticism for attending a meeting of that group - and for not showing up to an opposition "march for justice."

Not everyone in town has heard the news about Caldwell. Some don't care to talk about it. But Ryan Krasik, a white Shreveport native with a career in the Army, came to see Caldwell for himself. He didn't do it for money, he insists, but he left impressed enough to come again. "It's a wonderful thing, just that he's willing to pay money out of his own pocket and to address this issue," Mr. Krasik says.

Caldwell has faith that even in the richest, whitest churches in town, there are plenty in Shreveport who yearn for racial change. But those preachers can't speak out, he says, "because they would be out of a job."

To force such a change in the face of church attendance - let alone in the larger power structure - would be monumental, says Rodney Grunes, head of the history and political science department at Louisiana's Centenary College. Just to integrate a Shreveport church, he says, is job enough. "It's certainly more than a gimmick, and clearly has possibilities," he says. "But the history of the community makes it a major challenge."

Page: 1 | 2