The building may be new, but the congregation is steeped in history. Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta is known as the pastoral home of Martin Luther King Jr. On a random Sunday in March, those packed into the pews of its sun-filled, cavernous space included matriarchs in all their finery, restless children sitting astride their parents, and a handful of members of the 133-year-old congregation who have long, proud ties to the King family.
King never stepped foot inside the modern structure, but he still casts a shadow. The red-brick sanctuary was built in 1999 for the now 6,000-strong congregation and stands opposite the historic Ebenezer Baptist Church, whose architecture it echoes. That’s where the civil rights icon was co-pastor with his father, the Rev. Martin Luther King Sr., from 1960 until his assassination in 1968. The precinct, dedicated as a national historic site in 1980, is the spiritual anchor of the surrounding Sweet Auburn neighborhood, a once-vibrant black community undergoing gentrification, where trendy coffee shops, grungy dive bars, and street art line its tram track.
The service, led by Ebenezer’s Crew Youth Ministry for the church’s Youth Day celebrations, featured singer Zebulon Ellis, wearing a chef’s jacket and stonewashed jeans, and a spoken word presentation by high school students that broached the topic of police-involved shootings. King was still omnipresent, despite the massive projection screens and professional production crew filming the proceedings so they could be broadcast online to a global audience, Steve Harris, 58, said afterward. The postal worker, originally from Birmingham, Ala., but who’s worshipped at Ebenezer for about 30 years, pointed to Albert Brinson as an example.
Brinson, 81, said he was born down the road and baptized by “surrogate father” King Sr. The retiree once led student sit-ins and other civil rights demonstrations in Atlanta as a senior at Morehouse College, a historically black institution. He later became Ebenezer’s assistant pastor in 1963 until just before King Jr.’s death and frequently shares Sunday afternoon dinners with Christine King Farris, King Jr.’s 91-year-old sister. But for someone raised in an era “where church was everything,” Brinson said he sometimes worried about the congregation’s future. “King Sr. used to say, ‘It’s never about you, it’s always about others.’ Now it’s a new age, it’s the ‘selfie’ age,” he said.
However, it’s difficult not to feel optimistic that King’s legacy is in safe hands when you speak to younger Ebenezer churchgoers. Maximus Freightman, Tafari Cooke, and Christian Patterson, all Atlanta-area high school seniors who participated in the spoken word portion of the service, said it was important for them to talk about their experiences because they’re often “overlooked” by older worshippers. When asked what it’s like to be part of King’s congregation, they described it as being “pretty cool.” It’s hard to disagree with that.
