At Obama's Former Church, Hurt Lingers

"It is a particular tension around him and his church and his pastor that was very public," the Rev. Jesse Jackson said. "That does not affect how he deals with the entire black church. . . . He met with a group of ministers last week. He has met with labor leaders. He has gone to college campuses. He has done my radio show."

But political and religious experts said Obama's departure from Trinity has become a symbol of the further marginalization of black churches.

"If a politician wants to move up in government, he can come to church and jump and shout," said the Rev. Barbara Reynolds, a lecturer at Howard University's School of Divinity. "But it is not okay to go to a church where they are speaking truth to power and talking about racism, sexism and capitalism."

Ron Walters, a University of Maryland political science professor, said: "Barack Obama is running for president in a country where 70 percent of the people are white. They demand that he align himself to their dominant view."

When Obama announced his candidacy for president, Trinity expected the world to celebrate a church founded on the model of community activism that nurtured black church icons such as the Revs. Martin Luther King Jr., Ralph Abernathy and Jackson. Church leadership referred to Obama as their "chosen son."

Trinity sold his books in its bookstore and painted a stained-glass window that read: VOTE. Members talked about the possibility of sharing their pews with the first black president. On the rare occasions that Obama attended church, he sometimes received a standing ovation.

"There was a lot of pride having him there, for all of us," said Tony Johnson, a Trinity member since the early 1980s. "You could tell anyone in Chicago that you went to Trinity, and they knew about it because of him. Like, 'Oh, that's Barack's church.' . . . I don't think any of us really saw a downside to it. We had a great member in a great church doing great things. What couldn't you like?"

As Johnson monitored news of his church during the past three months, though, he found a lot not to like. Wright, the author of more than 4,000 sermons, became a public caricature through inflammatory, 30-second sound bites. He reiterated his most divisive opinions during an appearance at the National Press Club in late April. In a last-ditch attempt at damage control on May 25, Trinity invited a white Roman Catholic clergyman to take part in a "sacred dialogue on race."

The result? During his sermon, the Rev. Michael L. Pfleger mocked Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, saying she cried about Obama's candidacy because she thought: "I'm white. I'm entitled. There's a black man stealing my show."

Johnson said: "It's so frustrating to feel like all that gets talked about is these few bad things. We have so many great programs happening here, and they're ignored. It's like there are two different Trinitys: the one we know and love, and the one everybody hates and makes fun of on TV."

Said Renee Carter, another Trinity member: "Our church has received bomb threats, our members have been harassed, and our pastors have received threats on their lives."

It's a scenario Wright never imagined when he took over a dying church of 80 members in 1972 and built it into a seven-day-a-week community center with child care, couples counseling and service trips to Africa.

Trinity has drawn an economically diverse membership that includes Oprah Winfrey, rap stars and stockbrokers -- but the church never moved away from the South Side train tracks. Wright preached fiery sermons about racial inequality and the scars of slavery -- but he invited white youth groups to sit up front and listen.

Trinity's only method for recovery in Obama's absence, members said, is a renewed devotion to those same principles. But that might be complicated. Wright had planned to retire June 1 and install Moss, his hand-picked successor. However, on last weekend's service program, Wright remained listed as the senior pastor even as Moss delivered the sermon. Some church members said Wright might be interested in returning to the pulpit, and they remain unsure as to who's in charge.

During the past several months, Moss has relied on advice from his father, the Rev. Otis Moss Jr., a former pastor at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta and a friend of King.

"The black church will be fine," the elder Moss said. "But we are facing one of the most significant, one of the most challenging and one of the most opportune moments in our history. That also means we are facing one of the most dangerous moments."

Said the Rev. Al Sharpton: "Historically, the black church is the only place that we could have our voices heard. It's been the social, political and religious center of our community, and that can't change for anybody. . . . I think Barack did what he had to do, but we still cannot compromise."

Obama has come up with his own plan for moving forward: He doesn't plan to join another church, he said, until at least after the election.