loved his family and he didn’t want to cause them harm. He showed them mercy, even when they didn’t deserve it.”
Deborah felt a chill run through her body. Could it be possible that Pastor Shattuck would take his message even further? She leaned forward in anticipation.
“So I offer to you a question this day: Do you suppose the Negro came willingly to this continent? Or were they stolen by their enemies for whatever evil reason and sold to be slaves to those who needed workers – just as the Indians did with Mr. Perkins’s family?”
The church went completely silent. There wasn’t so much as a squirm from anyone in the pews. Deborah all but held her breath. The looks on the faces of the congregation conveyed stunned disbelief. They had been led where they did not want to go.
“We are so very quick to suggest that the Indian be killed for having stolen and sold slaves, but when it comes to people of our own skin color doing likewise, we are less inclined to see the wrongdoing.”
He stepped down from the raised platform and gazed across the congregation. “We’ve witnessed many tragedies because of folks stealing other folks and selling them off. We’ve endured a war in this great nation because of such things. We’ve borne the agony of such injustice being done to people of our own skin color, and we stand up and cry out in anger at such wrongdoings. We raise a pleading hand to God to beg justice for our own, while pointing a finger of condemnation on the other hand at those whose skin is darker.”
The congregation remained silent and fixed on Pastor Shattuck’s every word. The man seemed to realize he had finally hit upon a chord they could all recognize. He tucked his hands in his pockets and stepped back to the pulpit and picked up his Bible. “I’ll now close in prayer.”
Deborah closed her eyes and felt a sense of elation. She had a new respect for Pastor Shattuck. He was much wiser than she’d given him credit for. He had found a way to get the people to listen to his heart and to the Word, even knowing they would never agree with what he had to share. He had addressed not the murders themselves, but the very origin of the problem.
Folks filed from the church in silence. Hardly a word was spoken as they departed. Pastor Shattuck extended his hand as he always did, and some folks took it while others passed by without even glancing up. A few, she was happy to see, thanked the preacher for his words. Her family was among those, as was Dr. Clayton.
But would the pastor’s words only serve to put up walls of silence between those who agreed and those who disagreed?
C HAPTER 6
Word quickly spread that the Vandermarks were adding on to their house, and on the last Saturday in February, nearly half the town turned out to help. A palpable tension was evident, however. The ladies seemed to choose their words with great care as they shared the latest news, while the men spoke even less than usual. Deborah overheard several ladies ask her mother about Sissy. They approached her cautiously, whispering their questions. It was unfortunate that a community should be divided by something as heinous as the murders that had taken place; Deborah would have thought everyone could agree at least on the fact that the killings had been unjust. But apparently even that was too much to expect. There appeared to be an unspoken agreement to pretend that all was well, in order to accomplish what needed to be done.
Watching from the porch, Deborah marveled at how her mother moved among the crowd, making each person feel welcome. Mother was the consummate Southern hostess. She easily engaged their friends and neighbors, sharing a comment or asking a question. The tensions began to visibly ease, and finally people conversed, if not comfortably, then at least amiably. When Mother had finally made the rounds, she stepped to the porch.
“Friends, we’re so glad to have ya’ll here today,” her mother told
Deborah felt a chill run through her body. Could it be possible that Pastor Shattuck would take his message even further? She leaned forward in anticipation.
“So I offer to you a question this day: Do you suppose the Negro came willingly to this continent? Or were they stolen by their enemies for whatever evil reason and sold to be slaves to those who needed workers – just as the Indians did with Mr. Perkins’s family?”
The church went completely silent. There wasn’t so much as a squirm from anyone in the pews. Deborah all but held her breath. The looks on the faces of the congregation conveyed stunned disbelief. They had been led where they did not want to go.
“We are so very quick to suggest that the Indian be killed for having stolen and sold slaves, but when it comes to people of our own skin color doing likewise, we are less inclined to see the wrongdoing.”
He stepped down from the raised platform and gazed across the congregation. “We’ve witnessed many tragedies because of folks stealing other folks and selling them off. We’ve endured a war in this great nation because of such things. We’ve borne the agony of such injustice being done to people of our own skin color, and we stand up and cry out in anger at such wrongdoings. We raise a pleading hand to God to beg justice for our own, while pointing a finger of condemnation on the other hand at those whose skin is darker.”
The congregation remained silent and fixed on Pastor Shattuck’s every word. The man seemed to realize he had finally hit upon a chord they could all recognize. He tucked his hands in his pockets and stepped back to the pulpit and picked up his Bible. “I’ll now close in prayer.”
Deborah closed her eyes and felt a sense of elation. She had a new respect for Pastor Shattuck. He was much wiser than she’d given him credit for. He had found a way to get the people to listen to his heart and to the Word, even knowing they would never agree with what he had to share. He had addressed not the murders themselves, but the very origin of the problem.
Folks filed from the church in silence. Hardly a word was spoken as they departed. Pastor Shattuck extended his hand as he always did, and some folks took it while others passed by without even glancing up. A few, she was happy to see, thanked the preacher for his words. Her family was among those, as was Dr. Clayton.
But would the pastor’s words only serve to put up walls of silence between those who agreed and those who disagreed?
C HAPTER 6
Word quickly spread that the Vandermarks were adding on to their house, and on the last Saturday in February, nearly half the town turned out to help. A palpable tension was evident, however. The ladies seemed to choose their words with great care as they shared the latest news, while the men spoke even less than usual. Deborah overheard several ladies ask her mother about Sissy. They approached her cautiously, whispering their questions. It was unfortunate that a community should be divided by something as heinous as the murders that had taken place; Deborah would have thought everyone could agree at least on the fact that the killings had been unjust. But apparently even that was too much to expect. There appeared to be an unspoken agreement to pretend that all was well, in order to accomplish what needed to be done.
Watching from the porch, Deborah marveled at how her mother moved among the crowd, making each person feel welcome. Mother was the consummate Southern hostess. She easily engaged their friends and neighbors, sharing a comment or asking a question. The tensions began to visibly ease, and finally people conversed, if not comfortably, then at least amiably. When Mother had finally made the rounds, she stepped to the porch.
“Friends, we’re so glad to have ya’ll here today,” her mother told