By Don Valentine
Guest Column
Witness the final insult that birthed the AME Church: “You must leave this section now.” “Wait until the prayer is over and I will go,” softly replied the Black man, kneeling in prayer. “No, you must go now or I will call for aid and force you away,” warned the trustee.
the commotion, Black Methodist preacher Richard Allen, a former slave, opened his eyes to see his friend, Absalom Jones, being forced from his knees. For Richard Allen, this was the last straw. He could no longer serve in a church that did not welcome his people as equals.”
pivotal moment, as described on the website Christianity.com, cemented the necessity for a church where Black congregants were truly seen as equals. An additional insult was that the Black members agreed to build the church balcony where they were relegated to worship. Not exactly in keeping with the Gospel teachings!
Born in 1760 Philadelphia, Bishop Allen grew up during the American Revolution, an era of rising individual rights and antislavery sentiment. The National Archives record Bishop Allen diligently raised $2,000 (equivalent to $84,000 today) to buy his freedom. He sought religious independence, a pursuit challenged by White abolitionists and ministers who, despite opposing slavery, still aimed for oversight.
An adroit broker, Allen skillfully managed relations with White benefactors, notably the Philadelphia Abolitionist Society. In 1787, Bishop Allen and Absalom Jones established the Free African Society (FAS). It drew freemen, freedom seekers, and Haitian refugees. The FAS helped them find work and homes, providing literacy and financial education, and organizing community projects.
After the walkout protest, Bishop Allen established Bethel Church on property purchased in 1791. Refusing White Methodist oversight, he named his congregation the African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church, gaining Pennsylvania’s legal recognition by 1796. Allen thus founded the AME Church as the first Black denomination in the U.S. and served as its first bishop.
He spent his remaining life tending his Underground Railroad station. He also collaborated with community leaders to open schools for Black people. His work forged pathways for Black individuals—freed and enslaved—to organize, learn, and help one another, inspiring others to lead nationwide. These efforts set the wheels in motion for others to lead across the country. Indeed, his work didn’t just start a movement; it cemented his affectionate, and entirely deserved, legacy as the “Grand Daddy of the Civil Rights Movement.”