The war against segregation

I may not agree with every belief and practice of The Salvation Army, but I think they have gotten it right in their emphasis on reaching the poor with the Good News of Jesus Christ and meeting human needs in His name without discrimination. And I am especially impressed by their founder’s strong conviction for the inclusion of the poor and marginalised within the local church community. Here is an excerpt from a biography of the Booths written by Helen K. Hosier:

Booth was also convinced that the wealthiest in Nottingham should show God’s love to the neediest street person. One Sunday, the Reverend Samuel Dunn was sitting comfortably on his ornate red plush pulpit chair in the Broad Street Chapel and the congregation was singing when the chapel’s outer door suddenly swung open. In came a shuffling, shabby, almost ragged contingent of men and women, obviously nervous and uncomfortable in the presence of the chapel people who were made up mostly of mill managers, shopkeepers, and their well-dressed wives.

Behind the ragged group stood “Wilful Will,” blocking the efforts of those visitors who were fearful and wanting to leave the church. Then William began ushering his charges into the pews. The Reverend Dunn watched in dismay. It was totally unprecedented. In those days, the poor, if they even came to chapel, entered by another door and were segregated into benches with no backs or cushions, behind a partition that screened them from the eyes of the congregation, as well as the pulpit. The regular members of the congregation stared, glared, whispered, and snorted. Some changed seats to avoid any contact with the “riffraff.”

Following the service, young William Booth was confronted by angry deacons and the pastor. “Now, lad,” the Reverend Dunn began, “it’s a fine thing you are doing to help these poor souls, but you should have sat them in the reserved section. In the future, if you wish to bring in such people, they are to enter by the side door and sit on those benches.”

“I don’t see why,” young William said. “They came to worship God the same as the rest of us. Are they to be set apart for that?”

“No, no, lad, of course not. But – well, William, they may be crawling with lice and vermin, and they make our good women uneasy.”

“They did the best they could with what they have. They’ve cleaned themselves up for this occasion. I know their clothes are shabby and threadbare, but I’m not interested in their clothes. I’m interested in their souls.”

“Well, uh… that’s another thing… walking in the front door looking like that gives decent people the wrong impression about our congregation,” responded one church man. Glancing around for support from the others, he continued, “We must insist that if you bring this rabble here again, you bring them in through the back door and seat them in the poor section.”

“They’re not rabble,” Booth said. “They’re men and women seeking salvation – and it seems to me that in the house of God they should be free to sit where they please. Good day, gentlemen.”

It was his first brush with church society, but the memory of that event burned itself into his heart and mind and was to become a determining force in the years ahead. His actions made many people in his church indignant. Even his own mother and sisters believed that the salvation of these drunken outcasts was not possible. They may have been sincere in their beliefs, but they were wrong and the young man knew it.

… The longer he worked with the people in the East End, the more he appreciated how reluctant they were to attend traditional churches. And remembering some of the reactions he’d seen back when he had brought poor converts to church when he first moved to London while in his early twenties, William could sympathize. No one wanted to go where they were not welcome.

(From ‘William & Catherine Booth’, published by Barbour Publishing, Inc. Used by permission.)

I wonder how many evangelical churches today are guilty of what is written in James chapter 2…