Rev. Dr. Michael E. Haynes Was A National Treasure, A Civil Rights Balm For Boston
By Kevin C. Peterson
It was a mild autumnal Sabbath morning and brilliantly streaming bars of sun light filled the large square-box sanctuary which sat on the corners of Washington and Park Streets in Dorchester. The Rev. Michael Haynes at first sat inconspicuously among the parishioners, seemingly lost in a repose of revery and reminiscence. He had relaxed his body into a somewhat stoic posture, but he was clearly taking in all he was seeing and sensing of the sacred vitality, the propulsive power and the high octane hum that generally animates the liturgy of black pentecostal churches.
Haynes’ visage was spotted immediately by congregants recognizing his presence, which caused the church’s pastor to invite him onto the pulpit from where he would eventually speak with such sustained charismatic ambience that it silenced most parishioners with its simplicity and beauty — except for the few who let fall, almost inaudibly from their lips, affirming “Amens, Yeses, and preach it please!”
Haynes mesmerized church members that Sunday morning not only because of what he was saying, but also in the light of the life he lived and what he represented to generations of blacks who, in Boston, incessantly sought comfort and balm in a mostly unforgiving city where…
