Sassy discovers the ame.., p.1
Sassy Discovers the AME Church, page 1
Sassy Discovers the AME Church
Copyright © 2021
by B. A. Johnson
All rights reserved
Fresh Ink Group
An Imprint of:
The Fresh Ink Group, LLC
1021 Blount Avenue #931
Guntersville, AL 35976
Email: info@FreshInkGroup.com
FreshInkGroup.com
Edition 1.0 2021
Edited by Stephen Geez / FIG
Art by Anik / FIG
Author Photo by MW Photography
Book design by Amit Dey / FIG
Cover design by Stephen Geez / FIG
Associate publisher Lauren A. Smith / FIG
Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976 and except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, no portion of this book’s content may be stored in any medium, transmitted in any form, used in whole or part, or sourced for derivative works such as videos, television, and motion pictures, without prior written permission from the publisher.
Cataloging-in-Publication Recommendations:
JUV011010 JUVENILE FICTION / People & Places / United States / African American & Black
REL091000 RELIGION / Christian Education / Children & Youth
JUV033240 JUVENILE FICTION / Religious / Christian / Values & Virtues
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021903933
ISBN-13: 978-1-947893-17-7 Papercover
ISBN-13: 978-1-947893-18-4 Hardcover
ISBN-13: 978-1-947893-19-1 Ebooks
Sassy Discovers the AME Church is dedicated to all children seeking a better understanding of the history of their own church.
Acknowledgments
It is with a grateful heart that I acknowledge all those persons who pushed me across the finish line. It was always in my head, but with the support of so many, the words finally became a book. I appreciate the encouragement from my published friends—Barbara Bradford Mostella, Dr. Janice Draper Toney, and Dr. Arthur Walker—who urged me on and gave me invaluable tips and suggestions. Thanks also to the Reverend Maurice Wright II of St. John African Methodist Episcopal Church and his sweet daughter, Joy McKenzie Wright, who generously gave their time as beta-readers of the manuscript. Reverend Wright and Joy, your feedback and input inspired the completion of the book.
I would especially like to acknowledge the late Mrs. Valerie Gary Bell, former Connectional Lay President of the African Methodist Episcopal Church, who encouraged me early in my planning. We met only once in 2019 after the Founder’s Day worship service at St. John. During that service, Sassy was introduced to the congregation in a short skit: “Tell me, Big Momma, about the AME Church.” I spoke of my desire to provide Sassy with a platform to tell her full AME story. Mrs. Bell encouraged me to get it done. Sadly, Mrs. Bell passed in 2020, never having heard the full story, but her influence will endure as long as Sassy speaks to the world.
And then lastly, this adventure could not have been completed without the perseverance of a dynamic editor and publisher, Mr. Stephen Geez of Fresh Ink Group, and the very gifted artistry of FIG’s Anik. Thanks, Anik, for bringing Sassy, her friends, and Big Momma to life. Thank you, Geez for believing in Sassy and motivating me to introduce Sassy to generations of young people.
Preface
On the back of the pew, in most every African American church, you will find a church fan. Fans were necessary long ago when most churches were not-air conditioned and the congregation had to bear the burden of the hot, humid atmosphere during the grueling summer months. Most hand fans almost always had the picture of what appeared to be a very devout Christian family: a father, mother, son, and daughter. These hand fans were more than likely promotional apparatuses for some local business or neighborhood funeral home. My nine-year-old self often wondered, Who is this family? What is their name and where do they live? They surely are not members of my church, or rather I have never seen them before, and I am always at church.
Since their names were not listed under the picture, I decided to create a world for them. I gave them a name and an identity. They became the Fansons—Brock, Gloria, son Franklin, and daughter Mary Margaret—known affectionately as “Sassy.” They lived in the pew-storage unit with the Holy Bible and the AME Hymnal.
This story is about Sassy and how she discovers the rituals, traditions, and culture of the African Methodist Episcopal Church.
Part 1
Tell Me, Big Momma, about the AME Church
Chapter 1
My name is Mary Margaret Fanson. My grandmother, Big Momma, calls me “Sassy” because she says I’m “precocious.” You know, more mature than a nine-year-old should be, wiser than most little kids, an old soul, nine going on nineteen. I spend a lot of time with Big Momma because she lives with us. She moved in when her husband of 56 years died. Mommy and Daddy didn’t want her to be alone. And besides, I needed someone to be with me during the day because Mommy and Daddy work long hours.
Big Momma is not your typical grandmother. We call her Big Momma, not because of her size, but because she’s just older than my mother. Big Momma’s just the opposite. She’s small and petite. She’s a real fashionista—no thick black stockings for her. No long flowery-print ruffle dresses for my Big Momma. She’s trendy. She goes to yoga classes and wears leggings. She wears her hair in a low-cut natural and has it colored kinda light brown. On any given Sunday, you’ll find Big Momma in a stylish jacket dress with the most beautiful, thin, flowing organza chapeau you could imagine. Organza is like that, thin, flowy, whispery fabric, like the dress Glenda the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz was wearing. That’s the kind of hat Big Momma likes to wear—and they’re quite fashionable, if I might say so myself. Chapeau is French for hat. I learned that word from watching the shopping channel with Big Momma.
Big Momma and I spend a lot of time together. She fixes my breakfast, helps me get dressed in the morning, and gets me off to school. When I return home in the evenings, Big Momma is the first person I see. She always has a snack for me, like popcorn or a peanut-butter sandwich. When I have homework, she sits with me and listens to me read or watches me do my math.
When Mom and Dad get home from work, dinner is already prepared. We can tell when Big Momma has been in the kitchen. The aroma of home cooking flows through the house. Hot fried chicken, creamy mashed potatoes, buttery Parker House Rolls, and green beans—and it’s not even Sunday! And she always surprises us with a dessert like peach cobbler or apple pie.
We sit at the table together and prepare to eat our meal. Daddy always says the blessing while we hold hands. Franklin is beside me, so we hold hands and squeeze each other’s fingers. Franklin and I snicker because when Dad lowers his head we can see his bald spot. He blesses the food and the hands that prepared it. Then we eat. We talk, laugh, and share what has happened during the day. Everyone has a chance to be part of the conversation, even Franklin when he’s not shoving food in his mouth.
This is the best part of my day.
Chapter 2
It’s Sunday and time for church. We go to church every Sunday. We get up early, dress, eat breakfast, and drive to Big Morning Star African Methodist Episcopal Church. We just call it Morning Star. Morning Star is not a big church like those big mega-churches, but it’s not a small church, either. I would say it’s a large church made up of lots of families. Everyone seems to know each other. All my friends are there. Some kids, I remember being with in kindergarten.
Big Momma is with us. She loves her church and the people. When we arrive, everyone comes to greet her. They hug her and tell her how nice she looks and how they have missed her since seeing her last—which was just last Sunday, but they go on and on. We sit in the same pew every Sunday. Of course, I sit next to Big Momma. I’m on one side of her and my brother, Franklin, sits on the other side. I have been going to this church all my life. I know the pastor and his wife. We call her The First Lady out of respect. They have four kids, and I know the two youngest ones. I don’t know the older kids.
It’s a typical worship service. Someone says a prayer, reads the scripture and the Decalogue, which is the reading of the Ten Commandments during worship service. The choir sings some great songs that get everyone standing, clapping, and singing along. The Minister of Music, Brother Bailey, can really get the choir going, singing and clapping and swaying. Sometimes, he even gets “happy.” That means he feels the spirit and gets emotional. Some other people do, too. The pastor says, “It’s just part of the worship experience.” Whatever that means.
The announcements are read, and the visitors are welcomed. Just before the pastor comes up to preach, all the children—me included—are excused to attend Children’s Church.
Children’s Church is on a separate hall of its own. When we enter the hallway, we use tablets to check in so each teacher knows who’s there. The hallway is decorated with beautiful murals of scenes from the Bible. One mural shows a scene from Noah’s Ark. Another mural shows Jesus sitting in the garden with children. There’s one mural that I really like because it shows children of all ages and races playing and working together. There are balloon structures to look like Roman columns and slate-looking tiles over each door identifying the age group. White puffy clouds are painted on the sky-blue ceiling. Silver- and gold-foiled stars are hanging from the ceiling on thin fishing line. Every room is filled with bright colors and all kinds of books and pictures. It is a real magical place. And we love it!
&n
Chapter 3
All those things about the AME Church are still weighing on me, and it’s Tuesday! I have to find out some answers before Sunday. I’m home from school now. Big Momma and I are sitting at the table, eating some fruit and talking. I think to myself, This is just as good a time as any to ask her about that AME stuff from Children’s Church.
“Big Momma, the teacher told us in Children’s Church that we should be proud to be AME’s. I didn’t understand what she meant by that.”
Big Momma says, “Yes, Sassy, you should be proud to be AME. I’ve been AME all my life. I’m very proud to tell anyone that I’m AME.”
“But why, Big Momma?” I have to find out before next Sunday. The teacher might call on me.”
“Well, baby,” Big Momma says, “I have to start at the beginning, so you’ll know the whole truth and nothing but the truth. The African Methodist Episcopal Church was founded by a man named Richard Allen. He and his brother were born slaves a long time ago. When he got up in age, he worked hard and saved his money. He bought both his freedom and his brother’s freedom for $2,000. That was a lot of money back in those days. He and his brother had to attend St. George’s Methodist Episcopal Church in Philadelphia. St. George’s was a huge church and was mainly for white people. They allowed the African-American people to attend, but they had to sit in the balcony. One Sunday when Richard and some other African-Americans were in church, praying at the altar, they were pulled from their knees and told to leave.”
“Oh no!” I say. “I can’t believe someone would treat them like that when they were just praying!”
“Richard and the others could not believe it, either. But they left St. George’s Church and never returned.”
“But where did they go to church after that, Big Momma?”
“I’m glad you asked. Richard Allen and his friend Absalom Jones decided to start their own church where they could worship freely and not be hindered from praising God. Guess what they named it.”
“Tell me, tell me!” I say, all excited.
“They named it the African Methodist Episcopal Church,” Big Momma answers as proud as can be. “So that, dawling, is why you should always be proud to be an AME: Your church was started by a Black man for Black people. Nowadays, the church is open to everyone, no matter their color or their race. The main point is that we always want to demonstrate a spirit of inclusion, just like Jesus. Do you understand, Sassy?”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand that anyone and everyone should be welcomed at Morning Star or any AME Church.”
Chapter 4
Now I know why everyone is so proud to be AME! I can’t wait to get back to Children’s Church on Sunday. I will be the first one to raise my hand ’cause Big Momma told me why I should be proud to be AME. I cannot wait to share this good news with Patrice, my best friend in the whole wide world. I call her “Patty Cake” ’cause we love to play Patty Cake and all those other hand-clapping games. We especially like to go real, real fast. But back to the story. Today is only Wednesday. Sunday cannot get here soon enough.
Saturday comes, and it is chore day. I have to get my room cleaned and help Big Momma with the laundry. After I finish with the laundry, I have to dust the tables in the living room and fluff the pillows on the sofa. “Never know when company might come by.” Big Momma always says. By evening, I am so anxious I can hardly sit and watch TV.
I get out the clothes I am going to wear to church. I lay out my blue pants and a nice blue-and-white striped shirt with a red sweater. We can wear pants to our church; we’re modern. Even the grown ladies sometimes wear pantsuits. But not my Big Momma. She says ladies should still wear nice dresses to church, and she doesn’t care who says different.
Sunday morning finally arrives. We go through our regular routine: get up, dress, eat, go.
It’s time! It’s time! The pastor finally announces that it is time for the children to go to Children’s Church. I am walking on air. The teacher gathers us all around for our usual meet, greet, and share. She reads the lesson for the day; asks questions and we respond with correct answers.
Then comes the moment I have been waiting for, longing for, preparing for! The teacher says, “Tell me one reason why we should be proud to be AME.”
My hand shoots up as if it has a missile attached to it. “I know! I know!”
Then she calls on me!
Chapter 5
That’s right! I am about to tell the whole class why I am a proud AME. Just as the words are about to come up my throat, across my tongue, through my teeth, and between my lips, Gerald blurts out, “Because our church was started by a Black man!”
What? Wait just a minute. My hand was up. The teacher had called my name, had called on me. It was not his turn. I was so outdone! How could he ruin this moment for me?
I shout out, “I know something else!”
The teacher gives me permission to add another reason.
I say proudly, “Richard Allen was his name. He and his friend Absalom Jones started the church after they were kicked out of St. George’s Methodist Church in Philadelphia.” Now! There! I think to myself. I know a thing or two about a thing or two, too.
The teacher is pleased that I know so much. She praises both Gerald and me for knowing the correct answers. “That’s great that you know about Richard Allen and his friend, Absalom Jones, but there is so much more for you to learn.”
More to learn? I thought. Oh boy. That means I’m really going to have to get Big Momma to tell me more about the AME Church. I can’t let Gerald answer all the questions next Sunday.
As soon as I hit the door back at home, I quickly change clothes and run down the stairs for dinner. Big Momma and my mommy always cook big for Sunday dinner. Franklin and I set the table with our good china and silverware. Then we sit down. Daddy blesses the food and we eat. Today’s dinner is like most Sundays’: pot roast with gravy, mashed potatoes, candied yams, greens, rolls, and sweet tea. Nothing like ending the meal with a big slice of Big Momma’s 7-Up pound cake with vanilla ice cream.
After the table is cleaned off and the dishes are washed, Big Momma says, “Sassy, how did it go in Children’s Church today?”
Chapter 6
With a smile from ear to ear, I say, “I’m so glad you asked.” I had been dying to share what happened in Children’s Church since we got into the car to come home. I thought I would just burst during dinner. I am so excited to tell Big Momma everything that happened, blow by blow.
I start to recount events from the time we entered Children’s Church until the teacher asked the first question. I tell Big Momma how Gerald blurted out the answer. She asks me how I handled that, and if I got angry with Gerald.
I tell her, “No, I didn’t get mad with Gerald. I just took my time and told what I learned about Richard Allen and Absalom Jones.” I can tell Big Momma is proud of me because she is smiling.
I tell Big Momma she is going to have to tell me more stuff ’cause the teacher is going to ask more questions next Sunday.
Big Momma promises that she will tell me as much as I want to know about the AME Church, but not tonight because she is tired. Besides, it’s time for me to go to bed…
I have school in the morning!
Chapter 7
Sunday has come and gone. Children’s Church is now history until next Sunday. It’s like preparing for a marathon. I have to begin prepping on Monday, stretching and flexing my mind’s muscles for the challenge of AME knowledge. As I think about Sunday, I can hear Beyonce’s song in my head, “Run the World,” and the chorus, “Who run the world? Girls! Who run the world, Girls! Who run the world? Girls!” The chorus just keeps playing over and over in my head ever since Patty Cake and I heard it on the radio. I love Beyonce.
