Friday, November 19, 2010

Boisterous black priest inspires Catholic congregation in a romp of praise, prayer and song

It was clear from the moment the priest danced down the aisle, clapping and side-stepping to the beat, that this was to be no ordinary Catholic service.

The Rev. Maurice J. Nutt was dancing, pacing, hollering or praying - "Hallelujah! Thank the Holy Spirit!" - for the duration of a two-hour revival at Christ the King Church, 2777 E. Livingston Ave. on the East Side. 

The event was sponsored by the Black Catholic Ministries of the Diocese of Columbus.

Nutt combined Scriptural teaching with down-to-earth language - "don't get it twisted" - and implored the 180 or so in the pews to use the gifts God has already given them, rather than wanting more.

"I dare you to slap somebody and say, 'Use what you already have!'" he shouted, playfully flicking a towel at three worshippers, a towel he would later use to wipe his brow as he sped around the church.

Last night was the first of three revival nights under the theme "Your condition is NOT your conclusion." Nutt, a priest in Memphis, Tenn., is the headlining evangelist.

The Black Catholic Ministries office hoped to draw black Catholics into the church with the upbeat, boisterous style of worship often associated with black Protestant churches.

Like the Catholic Church nationwide, just a small fraction of the population within the Columbus Diocese is black, though the exact minority population here isn't known. The diocese has two predominantly black churches, one black priest and two black deacons, one of whom is retired.

Nationally, blacks are just 3.5 million of the estimated 73 million members of the church.

Black Catholics tend to worship differently than other Catholics, said Darren Davis, a political-science professor at the University of Notre Dame. Masses tend to include gospel music and expressive worship, similar to services of the Southern Baptist tradition.

Nutt teased the crowd, saying they probably didn't believe a larger-than-life preacher such as himself was really a Catholic.

"I want everyone to know, I'm Catholic born, I'm Catholic bred, and when I die, I'll be Catholic dead. Hallelujah!"

A choir of black and white people in African shawls led the congregation through gospel songs, arms raised to the heavens as heads, shoulders and hips dipped in unison. An organist provided an undercurrent for Nutt's rhythmic preaching.

The crowd contained a range of enthusiasm, from people who sat in their seats and read song lyrics silently to those whose energetic clapping and arm-waving nearly rivaled Nutt's.

Somewhere in the middle were Sheila Austin and her daughter, Elizabeth Scott. They came for a new experience, they said.

"Being from Chillicothe, the only Catholics I knew that were black were my cousins," Scott said.

"You're always looking for answers from God. This might be a way to bring it to us in another way."

Nutt did not disappoint.

Illustrating the story of Jesus healing the blind Bartimaeus in the Gospel of Mark, Nutt pulled a blue blanket from underneath the altar and wrapped himself in it, saying it represented "spiritual burden."

In the Bible passage, Bartimaeus throws off his cloak and goes to Jesus.

Nutt spun rapidly, bellowing the words of the blind man: "Son of David, have mercy on me!"

He called all the worshippers to get up and bend forward, moving their arms in a rapid motion as if revving up to throw off their invisible cloaks.

"There's some things, there's some things, there's some things I need to get rid of in my life!" Nutt proclaimed, eyes squeezed shut.

At the count of three, he flung off his makeshift cloak, and the church erupted in cheers. 

A drumroll preceded an organ flourish.

SIC: CD/COM