Larry Jack's Second Shot

Those most in need of repentance are nowhere to be found.
"A lot of people are out of the neighborhood right now," says Jack. "It ain't all died down yet. They thinking. Eventually they be back. Who knows what they'll do?"

Last Saturday night, not 100 yards from 24th Street and Broadway, Larry Jack raises his hands to Jesus.

Inside Faith Tabernacle Church of God in Christ, where Jack rocks upon the balls of his feet, Jesus is open for business.

"It's been two dead bodies sitting right here," screams the minister, reminding the faithful of the recent funerals.

"It could have been you! God deserves just a little bit of praise."
As the organ swells to a pitch and then sustains the passion, a young woman in a smart hound's-tooth suit, a tear upon her cheek, shuffles rapidly, back and forth, the length of the pew like a typewriter carriage.

Larry Jack, handsome in his church grays, hair pulled back into a small ponytail, dances in the aisle, his elbows high behind his back.

Outside, as the shadows deepen toward midnight, it's difficult to make out the shapes on 24th Street and Broadway. Rainbow Market is shuttered. But next door, the shack with the Chinese food to go is open. Light from the liquor store reflects onto the crowd clotted upon the sidewalk, and this congregation, no smaller than the one inside the church, is shouting, too.

They want you to know they've got it, if you want it.

Contact Michael Lacey at his online address:mlacey@newtimes.com