Bells ring, throngs gather to show unity and love in aftermath of church killiings

Associated Press

Charleston, S.C.

For several minutes Sunday, the sweltering skies above this grieving city were alive with the sound of bells: high in steeples and in the hands of toddlers, all ringing and tinkling in unison to honor the nine people cut down during a Bible study at the historic Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church.

Churches of all denominations across Charleston agreed to ring their bells at 10 a.m. in a gesture they hoped would send a healing message of unity and love to the world.

Standing in the shadow of St. Matthew's Lutheran, less than a block from "Mother Emanuel," Kelly Nix said the event brought her immense comfort.

"It's about grace, hearing the bells and being part of a community that we love," she said, tears rolling down her cheeks as her twin girls, Lana and Margeaux, who will turn 2 on Friday, ran around in their matching white dresses. "And searching for grace and faith in a time when you think of unthinkable things."

Police say a white man named Dylann Storm Roof, 21, sat with the Bible study group for an hour Wednesday before pulling out a handgun and opening fire. Pastor Clementa Pinckney and eight others, ranging in age from 26 to 87, were killed.

Authorities have called the shooting a hate crime and are investigating whether a racist screed posted on the Internet was written by the suspect. But if Roof intended to strike a blow for segregation, Sunday's event was meant as a message that he failed.

Less than a block from Emanuel, several hundred people gathered in Marion Square Park, which is dominated by a statue of pro-slavery U.S. Rep. John C. Calhoun and flanked by the spires of St. Matthew's Lutheran and Citadel Square Baptist Church.

Under a blazing sun, the throng held an interdenominational service, sitting on blankets and folding chairs beneath umbrellas and tents. Some wore T-shirts bearing the faces of those who were slain at the church.

Behind the stage, hanging from the battlements of a castle-like hotel, hung a white banner with the words "Mother Emanuel, We Love You."

Shortly before 10 a.m., Pastor Mike Seaver of Sovereign Grace Church in nearby Summerville read a passage from the book of Psalms. When he had finished, Seaver asked the throng to come closer together and urged them to "honor the Lord and weep with those who weep."

Quincy Williams bent down and whispered to her 3-year-old sister, Michal, who was holding a purple plastic tambourine to match her purple dress.

"Are you going to shake it really loud?" the big sister asked. The shiny cymbals tinkled in response.

"Good job," Williams cooed.

Quincy Williams is white. Her sister is black. She said their presence was a reminder that "God doesn't see color."

"We're all his under the sun," Williams said as Michal shook her tambourine. "He created us individually, to be different. But those differences make us who we are."

Across town at First Baptist, the Rev. R. Marshall Blalock read the names of the dead as their photos appeared on a large screen. He then told the story of a congregant whose young son was taunted by some whites at a fast food restaurant the day after the killings.

"The white community needs to build a bridge to the black community," he said.