Church in the Streets

The Good Book says, “Wisdom cries out in the streets” — in our streets: near 14th and Washington. Rev. Reginald Walton walked out to greet those of us who’d gathered on two sidewalks, under trees, in between parked cars — maybe 100 at first, then 200 — because we couldn’t fit in the church. It was sweltering in the sun: August at 4:30pm in Phoenix. He was cool in a suit. Standing between the cars, he preached: “THIS is what America is!” He rises. “ THIS is what peace is!” His voice rolls. “THIS is what love is!” He carried the momentum. “You all showing up today, you’re saying, ‘THIS will not happen on my watch.’” “This,” of course, was Charlottesville. Is Charlottesville. He moved from the political to the eschatological, “In the end, love wins.” And we chanted his words back to him. Christians and kids and White folks and Jews and atheists and Latinos and old folks and Muslims and weirdos and Black folks, we chanted on the sidewalks. Because when we’d gotten to the church, a big White guy — some kind of prophet, apparently — stood at the door and sighed, “I think we’re gonna need a bigger church.” And we got one, near the corner of 14th and Washington.