William Owens says he feels as though he has survived one culture war only to be thrust onto the front lines of another. The 65-year-old African-American minister from Memphis, Tenn., still likes to reminisce about his glory days as a college student—when he walked in civil-rights marches led by Martin Luther King Jr. and participated in sit-ins at whites-only lunch counters.

It was a passionate yet "terrible time," he said. "Many people died, black and white, [but] we were willing to die. … At the core of it was our religious faith. Dr. King followed the theology that God had called him to do what he was doing, and that God would protect him until he had done it."

But nowadays, when Owens hears gay-rights activists equating the battle he and his heroes fought with the quest for same-sex marriage, he doesn't feel honored, he says; he feels insulted.

That's because he doesn't see homosexuals dying for the right to sit at the front of the bus. "They know nothing about what we went through," he said. "We were fighting just to be able to live a decent life, but they are fighting for what they want on an agenda. How can they even compare that?

"They've hijacked the civil-rights movement."

He's not alone in that sentiment. Nationwide polls from the Pew Research Center show that at least 64 percent of African-Americans oppose gay marriage. That percentage has held steady, wavering only one or two points over the last few years. By contrast, opposition to gay marriage among the overall population has dipped at least 12 points (from 65 to 53 percent) since 1996.

There's another reason, besides resentment over the pirating of their civil-rights struggle, that so many African-Americans oppose gay marriage: Their community is still largely centered on churches led by pastors like Owens, who preach that homosexuality is a sin.

"The church was involved in helping blacks survive after emancipation … so a pastor historically has a lot more influence in our culture than in the white community," said Wellington Boone, a frequent Promise Keepers speaker and the senior bishop of The Father's House, a church in Norcross, Ga.

Indeed, The Associated Press reported last fall that "nearly three-quarters of African-American Protestants say homosexual behavior is sinful." Add to that number the some 8 million parishioners represented by the Church of God in Christ—one of the nation's largest black denominations—which declared in April 2004 that same-sex unions are in "direct violation of the law of God." The African Methodist Episcopal Church, consisting of about 2.5 million members, followed suit in July, with a formal statement that same-sex unions are "contrary to the will of God."

"A lot of blacks across America are for the Federal Marriage Amendment [which would add language to the U.S. Constitution defining marriage as only between a man and a woman]," said Owens, who leads the Metropolitan Institutional Church of God in Christ in Memphis. "But we are in loose-knit groups. So we need to join together … if for not any other reason than to fight this idea that the gay-rights movement is a civil-rights movement."

Otherwise, courts might force pastors like himself to marry same-sex couples. Unlike blacks in the 1950s, he said, homosexuals currently "have the legal right to do anything they want to do, but not to turn our society upside down."

In fact, the grandfather of 12 feels so passionately about that threat that he's dedicated himself to defeating gay marriage. To that end, he founded the Coalition of African-American Pastors, which at presstime included 260 churches nationwide. "Our goal is to have 1,000 by the end of August," he said. "The most important thing for me to do now is get in as many pastors' faces as I can.

"Like Dr. King, I think this is my calling."

'Afraid Of God'

Gay-marriage advocates' use of civil-rights language is viewed by many black pastors as a manipulative ploy because it focuses the debate on so-called discrimination rather than on what gay marriage really is: licensing sexual deviancy.

"They use that to put Americans on a guilt trip," Owens said. But the strategy appears to be backfiring; because the more homosexuals use civil-rights analogies, the more they alienate black leaders on both sides of the political aisle. The notoriously liberal Rev. Jesse Jackson, for instance—while speaking at Harvard Law School this February—chastised gay-marriage proponents for piggy-backing off the civil-rights era. "The comparison with slavery is a stretch," he said, pointing out that "gays were never called three-fifths human in the Constitution."

"For Jesse Jackson and I to agree on something, it has to be a really bad issue," said Ken Hutcherson, a conservative African-American preacher who organized a defense-of-marriage rally in Seattle that attracted some 20,000 attendees.

"The bottom line," said Hutcherson, also a former NFL Seattle Seahawk, "is a moral deviancy is trying to line up with one of the greatest fights in the history of America. … For the homosexual community to say this is a civil-rights issue is a slap in the face of every African-American."

In short, it's a mix of civic pride and moral outrage that's really turning the majority of blacks against gay marriage. Interestingly, The New York Times reported in August 2003 that African-American identification with the Democratic Party had dropped 11 percentage points—from 74 to 63 percent—since 2000. While several factors probably contributed to that plunge, gay marriage could turn it into a free-fall.

And that has liberals running scared, including Al Gore's former campaign manager, Donna Brazile. "This is almost the mother of all wedge issues," she lamented when an influential, black New Orleans minister—Bishop Paul Morton—broke ranks to oppose homosexual marriage. "[Morton] has been involved in every Democratic victory in Louisiana in the past 10 years, and he's sending signals that this is a deal breaker."

As a result, the Kerry campaign hasn't openly endorsed gay marriage and the Democratic Party's platform doesn't mention the issue at all.

Homosexuals, meanwhile—frightened that black clergy are weakening support for gay marriage within the political party that's most open to it—have begun using peer pressure to force preachers into compliance.

A gay-rights group called Operation Rebirth, for instance, mailed a letter this July to 38 African-American pastors who oppose gay marriage, including Hutcherson and Morton. "Your public support of this discrimination," said the letter, "sent the following messages to the black community. … We can still be divided … We can be used as a political wedge." Rebirth also posted the pastors' names online and called for people to stop "going to and giving your money" to their churches.

But those tactics haven't quelled Bible-believing ministers like Boone who, during a live simulcast to 500 churches and 1,500 radio stations this May, boldly proclaimed that, "We are not afraid of gays. We are afraid of God."

Boone told Citizen he believes the black church is facing a "such a time as this" moment (a reference to the book of Esther) to change the tide of the culture war. The black community has witnessed firsthand the havoc wreaked by the destruction of the family unit—first through slavery and then through welfare, he said—and so black people are poised to lead a rebellion against the further destruction gay marriage would cause.

"The greatest move of God that we are going to see is where the darkness has the most intensity," Boone said. "And which group of people, and families, have experienced the most darkness and been plundered more than any other? The highest rate of abortion, the highest rate of children conceived out of wedlock … that's the African-American people.

"So if you get more African-American pastors in front of the masses of black people, there's going to be a revolution."

'How Dare You'

That potential was dramatically demonstrated this spring in Georgia, where African-American ministers pushed a same-sex marriage ban through the nation's largest Black Caucus—and eventually through a Democratic-controlled statehouse.

Their battle began in February, when conservative legislators introduced an amendment to the state's constitution that would ban both same-sex marriage and Vermont-style "civil unions."

The amendment passed the Georgia senate on Feb. 16. But, to go before statewide voters on a ballot this November, it needed a two-thirds majority from the House. The homosexual lobby pulled out all stops to prevent that from happening.

Rep. Sharon Beasley-Teague—the Democratic vice chairman of the Georgia Legislative Black Caucus—told Citizen she received visits from 30 to 40 gay activists a day. "They kept the halls full," she said, adding that she also received "dirty messages" on her voicemail and repeated warnings that a vote for the amendment would "destroy the Democratic Party."

That pressure took its toll. On Feb. 26, 38 of the 39 black legislators in the House either opposed the amendment or abstained from voting on it, ensuring its demise. (Teague said she didn't vote because she was attending a funeral.)

It looked like all was lost. But then something unexpected happened: a spiritual awakening among local black clergy.

It began in part with Bishop Donn Thomas—pastor of Messiah's World Outreach Ministries—who told Citizen that he couldn't sleep at night after hearing news reports about gays getting married in California.

"It was really God interrupting my sleep and asking the question, 'What are you going to do about this?' " he said. "And after a few nights of not sleeping, I went to a meeting of pastors, and we began to talk about what we could do." On March 22, eight of those pastors held a "Yes Marriage Amendment" rally at the Abundant Life Church in Lithonia.

At the rally, clergy circulated an open letter to Georgia legislators. "We demand that you lay aside your political party lines and defend marriage as historically defined," it said. "How dare you make a matter of such grave magnitude an issue of Democrat or Republican?"

Garnering nationwide coverage from The Associated Press, the event forced the hand of black legislators—especially Rep. Calvin Smyre, a Black Caucus member who chairs the House scheduling committee. One week later, Smyre resurrected the amendment.

"The Caucus did not want a public fight with their biggest constituency, which was the black church," said Darryl Foster, an African-American pastor who spoke at the event. "You had very influential African-American pastors saying, 'We are not willing to a have backroom discussion. We are willing to have a very public fight.' "
In the days leading up to the vote, local pastors visited the State Capitol, reminding Caucus members that gay marriage "is against the Word of God," Thomas said. The odds still looked disheartening to him, though: "There were 400 to 500 of them [homosexual lobbyists] to three or four of us."

But in the end, just a little spiritual conviction outweighed tremendous political pressure: On March 31, four black legislators voted for the amendment, creating a two-thirds majority with just two votes to spare (for a total of 122). It marked the first time in about 24 years that the Caucus had split on an issue.

One of the four defectors was Teague, a 12-year Democratic legislator, whose pastor came to the statehouse to pray with her.

"My Christianity, to me, was on the line," she told Citizen. "I'd rather be condemned for doing what I believe is correct than be condemned for being in the biggest party of the century going straight to hell."

'On Judgment Day'

The tale of how a handful of ministers defeated hundreds of homosexuals has become a sort of legend of hope among gay-marriage opponents nationwide. But more important than celebrating the victory, is understanding how it was won:

Georgia pastors did something liberals never do—they talked about sin.

"I said, 'Bro, when you face God on Judgment Day … will Jesus side against His own Word by saying it's all right for a man to marry a man?' " Boone said, recounting a private conversation he had with a Caucus member. " 'Will He say to you on that great day, "I would have done the same thing?" ' "

"And his answer to me was, 'No.' "

One reason the fear of offending God resonates with black politicians—even some of the most liberal—is that "the civil-rights movement was founded on the Word of God," explained Alveda King, niece of Martin Luther King Jr. "But the gay-rights movement is not founded on the Word of God, nor is it founded in the church."

Dr. King and his followers, she and other civil-rights leaders told Citizen, believed their fight was based on eternal, biblical principles, like justice and the fact that all men are created equally in God's image. In many African-Americans' minds, to side with gay marriage is to betray the source of their own victory over segregation—God's blessing.

Thus, when pastors like Boone and Thomas cited "the Word of God" to black legislators, it wasn't just a passing phrase—it was a historical allusion that struck at the heart of everything they've fought for during the last century. "A lesson that Georgia demonstrates to the rest of the country," Foster said, "is that the black clergy have to be involved in this battle, and they have to be willing to publicly chastise any black legislator who will not stand for what their constituents have put them in office to do."

'Sin Is Sin'

In addition to refueling pro-family activists, the Georgia victory spotlighted something liberals would rather keep secret: a split within their own ranks.

"The major divide is [between] black legislators who are overwhelmingly Democrat … and the leaders of [their] constituency, which is the black clergy," Foster said. "We've seen battle after battle all over this country between black pastors and black legislators."

That divide was further dramatized in D.C. this March, when two civil-rights leaders sat on opposites sides of the table—literally—during the first Senate hearing on the Federal Marriage Amendment.

On one side was U.S. Rep. John Lewis, D-Ga., who spoke at the famous March on Washington in 1963, and who now endorses gay marriage. On the other side was the Rev. Richard Richardson, a 74-year-old assistant pastor of St. Paul African Methodist Episcopal Church in Cambridge, Mass.

Richardson has a powerful voice both as the CEO of a foster-care agency—the Children's Services of Roxbury—and as the political director of the Black Ministerial Alliance of Greater Boston, a 44-year-old organization representing about 77 churches and 50,000 parishioners.

By his own admission, he's a registered Democrat who's willing to vote against the Party on the issue of gay marriage. "Marriage was not created to oppress people. It was created for children," Richardson told Lewis and other senators at the hearing. "It boggles my mind that people would compare the traditional institution of marriage to slavery."

It was the first time he and Lewis had opposing opinions on a major, public policy issue. But Richardson doesn't regret his stance, he said, because his public testimony—as well as the formal declaration against gay marriage issued by his own denomination, the AME Church—obey the Biblical command to "point out to our brothers and sisters in Christ when sin is sin. And this clearly is an abomination to God."

'God Backs His Word'

And so—as the FMA headed to the U.S. Congress at presstime for a second try at a floor vote—the big question on everybody's minds was whether black legislators would heed the warnings of their brethren in the pulpit. And whether the Georgia victory could be replicated at the national level, where the 38-member Congressional Black Caucus has the power to swing a vote.

National civil-rights leaders like Owens and Boone think that it can—but only if more Christians, black and white, are willing to apply biblical convictions to the secular realm.

"If we will stand … and not compromise, it will prick the conscience of this nation," Boone said. "Logic is not going to change the convictions of people. That takes the backing of God, and God only backs His Word."