From Pulpit To Public Square

Rev. Calvin O. Butts III preaching at Howard University's Andrew Rankin Chapel​

Editor's Note: The following remarks are excerpted from the eulogy delivered at last week's funeral for Rev. Butts

It was fifty years ago when Calvin Butts and I began working together at Abyssinian Baptist Church in New York City. Adam Clayton Powell, Jr. had died in April of 1972. Samuel Proctor was called to be the new Senior Pastor a few months later in that same year. Dr. Proctor was serving as a Distinguished Professor in an endowed chair at Rutgers University, so he agreed to accept the pastoral assignment here under two conditions. The first condition was that he be allowed to remain at Rutgers, thus making him a half-time pastor. The second condition was that half of his salary would be used to hire three ministerial associates to whom he could entrust most of the day-to-day pastoral work of hospital calls, home visitations, weddings, funerals, and various Bible classes, as well as rotating once-a-month as Sunday morning preachers.

​The first person named to serve in one of those positions was The  Rev. William S. Epps. He had been on the staff under Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., and his presence was crucial as a link between this church’s past and its future. Bill Epps lived a great distance from the church, so he owned a car, and he would regularly pull up to the church in a late model Lincoln automobile. Butts and I lived on the campus at Union Theological Seminary on 122nd and Broadway, and we would pull up in late model Florsheim shoes. Neither one of us had a car. We could not afford a taxi every time we came to church. The subway was available, but it seemed just as easy to just walk from the school to the church and back again. Our route was standard. We would come down Broadway to 125th Street. We would go up 125th Street to Seventh Ave. We would walk on Seventh Ave from 125th to 138th Street. We would turn right and arrive at the church.

​One of the highlights of our walk was passing under the marquee, the lighted display at the Apollo Theatre where we saw the names of the biggest name in music that would be appearing on that stage week after week. The names included James Brown, Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, and so many more. One afternoon we stopped at the Apollo for a matinee performance that featured both James Brown and Aretha Franklin — billed as the king and queen of soul. The theatre was packed, and the place was rocking. At one point while James Brown was getting on the good foot, someone got so carried away in dancing he fell from the balcony onto the crowd below. In typical New York fashion, rather than stop the show to see if the man and the crowd were all right, someone in the balcony just threw the man’s hat down after him and the show went on.

​I tell you about the marquee of the Apollo because it never occurred to me that the day would come when one of our names would appear on that lighted sign. But there it was on the marquee of the Apollo Theatre on the day after his death was announced, Remembering Harlem’s Beloved Community Leader – Rev. Dr. Calvin O. Butts, III – 1949-2022. How many people do you know who are not world-renowned entertainers whose names appeared on the marquee of the Apollo?

​More importantly, how many people do you know who were relentless in speaking truth to power? That was what Calvin Butts did in New York City and across this country. Now that voice has been silenced by death.

This is a tough time to lose a prophet. We have enough prosperity preachers in the world. We need some prophets. We have enough pulpit puppets whose strings are being pulled by Donald Trump and his MAGA movement. We need some prophets. We have enough intellectual lightweights in the pulpit who fail to see the dangers that surround both the church and the country. We have people who call themselves Christian Nationalists who think that God has a love affair with this country alone, and who think that America is best served when only white people in general, and white males in particular are in charge. This is a tough time to lose a prophet.

In the 2003 movie, Head of State, Chris Rock is elected President of the United States and his brother, Bernie Mac becomes Vice President. Chris Rock’s opponent is an obvious clone of former Vice President Dick Cheney, and he ended every speech by saying, “God bless America and nobody else.” In their last debate, that candidate ended his remarks that same way, “God bless America and no one else.” Chris Rock’s character responded by saying, “How about God bless America and Cuba? How about God bless America and Jamaica? How about God bless America and Africa? How about God bless America and everybody else?”

Somebody tell this “America first” crowd that they can have their political rhetoric, but they cannot appropriate Jesus to reinforce and justify their bigotry and racism. Somebody tell these MAGA members that God’s favorite hymn is not “God Bless America.” God has no singular affinity to America. God has signed no special contract with America. There is no verse in the Bible that says, “In the beginning God created the United States. Somebody tell these wall-building, Muslim-hating, Hispanic-despising, white supremacist people that God’s favorite hymn says, “He’s got you and me brother, in His hand. He’s got you and me, sister, in His hand. He’s got everybody here in His hands. He’s got the whole world in His hands.”

This is a tough time to lose a prophet. This is a tough time to lose my friend, Calvin Butts who spent fifty-years speaking truth to power.

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The Rev. Dr. Marvin A. McMickle, pastor emeritus of Antioch Baptist Church in Cleveland, Ohio, is interim executive minister, Cleveland Baptist Association, American Baptist Churches, USA. He served as president of Colgate Rochester Crozer Divinity School, Rochester, New York, from 2011 to 2019. 

he views expressed are those of the author and not necessarily those of American Baptist Home Mission Societies.