By Jeffrey Collins
The Associated Press
CHARLESTON, S.C. (AP) — People of faith gathered again at Mother Emanuel AME on June 17 just like they did 10 years ago, searching for God’s truth and His love in the church fellowship hall.
On that horrible night in 2015, nine Black church members were gunned down by a White man who hated them just for the color of their skin. He sat with them through their Bible study, then as they closed their eyes and bowed their heads, he started firing.
As survivors gathered in 2025, they invited another congregation that knows the pain of murderous hatred to join them. When a gunman killed 11 people at the Tree of Life synagogue in 2018, Mother Emanuel’s pastor, the Rev. Eric Manning, flew to Pittsburgh to comfort another flock.
A lament about a world unchanged
It was up to Rabbi Jeff Myers to lament June 17 that the world hasn’t changed as much as was hoped by the congregation of the South’s oldest African American church, which was founded by enslaved people, torn down after they rebelled and then rebuilt following the Civil War.
“Both of us were assaulted by Americans who did not want us to exist, who thought violence would solve their problems,” Myers said.
Then he read the portion of the U.S. Declaration of Independence that starts with “we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”
“Except for the Jews and the Blacks. That’s how I feel in America right now,” Myers said.
A call to action and justice
Democratic U.S. Sen. Mark Kelly said American society combines hate and guns in a stew that threatens the country’s existence.
“We know that hate is dangerous. But hate with a gun in its hand is deadly,” said Kelly, who was joined at the Mother Emanuel pulpit by his wife, former U.S. House member Gabby Giffords, who was gravely wounded in a January 2011 mass shooting in Arizona.
The Charleston church massacre did change the world in some ways.
The shooter, now on death row just like the killer at Tree of Life, posted selfie photos with a Confederate flag to hammer home his racist reasons for shooting Black parishioners. For many, this act made it impossible to keep defending the rebel banner as a symbol of southern heritage. South Carolina then took the flag down from the Statehouse grounds where it was installed as a rebuttal to federal desegregation orders.
A struggle with our racist past
But some things are the same. Mother Emanuel’s sanctuary still has the same deep red carpet. The church continues its mission of empathy, empowerment, encouragement and equipping.
And the nation still struggles with the legacy of enslaving Black people for hundreds of years.
South Carolina remains one of only two states in the U.S. without a hate crime law even though survivors keep pushing for it. Months before the massacre at Mother Emanuel, a White North Charleston police officer shot and killed an unarmed Black man in the back about 10 miles (16 kilometers) away. Six years later, a White officer knelt on a Black man’s neck in Minnesota for nine minutes, killing him.
“On paper, the concept of the United States is a wonderful one. In reality, it is not successful right now,” Rabbi Myers said.
A reminder of forgiveness
Mother Emanuel member Marvin Stewart has tried to emulate the love he saw in his nine friends killed that night.
“Unfortunately, the present time is very demoralizing and very challenging with the political divide. As I sat in church today, and I keep hearing the word forgiveness, I said, ‘Am I in that space?’ I would use the word acceptance as the space I’m in,” Stewart said after the service.
One hymn was sung June 17. It was “Amazing Grace” — the spiritual that Barack Obama, the nation’s first Black president, began singing at the memorial service for the nine victims, held just blocks from Gadsden’s Wharf, where an estimated 40 percent of enslaved Africans first touched U.S. soil.
Rapturous applause rained down when survivors of the shooting and relatives of the people killed were asked to stand and be seen.
And moments of joy
Chris Singleton, whose mother Sharonda Coleman-Singleton was killed, asked everyone to “hug somebody who looks different than you,” and for several minutes the packed sanctuary was abuzz with smiling people, arms reaching over pews and hugs spilling into aisles.
Large photos of those killed were on display in the sanctuary — pillars of the community who included the church’s pastor who was a state senator, a high school track coach, the church sexton, a librarian and an aspiring poet. The shooter sprayed more than 70 bullets to kill them — and told Polly Sheppard he was leaving her alive so that the world would know his motive: “You’re taking over our country. And you have to go.”
He failed, the Rev. Manning said: People of faith are still here, working together for good through God.
“Let the memory of the Emanuel Nine be a light that guides us not only to remembrance, but also to renewal and change,” he said.