Swaying in a tribal-inspired crimson robe as her voice crested a wave of gospel music, Nekisha Rhodes looked as if she might levitate in spiritual ecstasy. Celebrity gospel singer Gladys Knight stood in front of the gospel choir leading a soaring rendition of Kirk Franklin’s anthem “More Than I Can Bear.” Rhodes, a St Louis native, felt right at home in the multi-racial choir singing the music that has strengthened her soul since she was a little girl reading the Bible on her own in a corner of her St. Louis home.
But on the evening of June 1, Rhodes was more than a thousand miles from home, in the LDS Conference Center in Salt Lake City, Utah. Behind the brightly colored choir rose the iconic pipes of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s organ. Rhodes, a Mormon since 2007, had made the flight from St. Louis to Salt Lake City to join with Gladys Knight, Alex Boyé, and other high-profile African-American Mormons for an historic celebration at the LDS Church headquarters.
The event, a gala evening known as “Be One,” thrilled its sold-out audience with scintillating music and dramatic performances celebrating the history and contributions of Mormons of African descent during the church’s 188 years of existence. June 1 marked the fortieth anniversary of the LDS Church’s policy change in 1978, which extended the full range of church blessings – including ordination to the lay priesthood for men, and initiation in the temple rites for men and women – to Mormons of African descent around the world.
And tonight, for the first time, the central gathering space of the Mormon religion rang with the sounds of African and African-American music and drumming, art, dance, imagery, and language. It was historic indeed.
But for Rhodes, it was far more than a history lesson. “It was unity,” she said. “It was just unity. We were one. We really were one. I just wept. The girls next to me just grabbed my hands as we sang and we just cried. It was just beautiful.”
Rhodes’s journey to Salt Lake City encompassed more than a three-hour Southwest flight.
Growing up, Rhodes didn’t attend church with her family. Her home was often chaotic, and young Nekisha would find solace reading the Bible on her own. When her mother remarked that she was always reading scripture, Nekisha proclaimed, “I wanna be a gospel singer!” Her spiritual attraction to the Christian gospel was a constant in her life. “It was always in my heart,” she said. “It was placed there by God.”
But life was messy. After giving birth to a daughter, Rhodes, now a single mother, knew she needed to search for God in earnest. She joined a friendly Baptist church, where she sang gospel as she had always dreamed. She credits that church with her first spiritual awakening. One Sunday, she said, “the pastor was talking about new wine in old wineskins. From the bottom of my feet to the top of my head, I knew from that moment my heart was open. I woke up, I was another person. I knew I was different.”
Several years later, intrigued by a television ad promising that “families can be forever,” Rhodes sought more information. When she found that the ad came from the Mormon church, she was surprised – but something inside pushed her to learn more.
“God, I don’t want to push this off just because it’s different. I’ll visit,” she prayed. One Sunday morning she hesitantly visited the mostly white Mormon congregation on McPherson Avenue. Feeling out of place, she sat down in an empty pew. “I felt as if I had a million Peppermint Patties through my entire body,” she said. “I knew that it was the Holy Spirit. I knew it was God.”
Despite questioning from her pastor, Rhodes pursued her spiritual investigation. She learned of the Mormon church’s complicated history of race relations. Though church founder Joseph Smith ordained black men to the young church’s priesthood in its first decades, subsequent leaders stopped the practice, citing racist Bible interpretations common in America around the Civil War. For most of the twentieth century, blacks were baptized into the Mormon church and worshiped on Sundays with white members, but could not be ordained to the priesthood or pursue the higher religious rites available in the church’s temples. Forty years ago, in 1978, that practice stopped, and blacks and Africans around the world could once again participate fully in LDS religious rites.
While this history left Rhodes confused, she couldn’t deny the feeling that she should join the LDS congregation she had visited. She questioned God. “You call me, Lord,” she said she heard in her heart. “You’re going to go back whether you understand or not.”
In the years since her baptism into the Mormon church, Rhodes has developed deep friendships in the racially diverse congregation she attends. She has served in many different capacities, working with teen girls and adults, teaching and organizing and leading.
And singing. Always singing. She has been invited to sing at Mormon events around the region, bringing her gospel style with her to meetinghouses that have long been accustomed to the staid traditional hymnal rather than the rousing energy of gospel music. For many Mormons, black and white, this is a welcome change. The hunger for diversity and energy in Mormon worship services is growing, and black members like Rhodes are breaking new cultural ground in Mormon meetinghouses like hers in St Louis.
