Haynes touched so many people’s lives
It was like meeting a legend, someone you had always revered from afar, which is why there was anxiety here in reaching out to shake the hand of the Rev. Michael Haynes when we crossed paths at a banquet a few years back.
“You were a speaker at one of the saddest moments of my life,” he was told.
“Oh? Who died?”
“A church died. It was the final service of the Dudley Street Baptist Church in Roxbury before it was torn down to make room for a cinder block police station.”
Haynes was identified in that day’s printed program as the interim minister of the Twelfth Baptist Church on nearby Warren Street, as well being the Representativeelect of the Legislature’s 7th Suffolk District.
“I brought you a copy of that program,” he was told. “I thought you might like to see it. If my math is correct you were 37 that day.”
“Yes, I was,” he said, in a wistful tone that made 37 seem so long ago. “Here, sit down with me for a moment.”
We briefly talked about changing times, recalling how the schoolkids of this city were sent to local houses of worship on “religious education day.”
“I was sent to the Dudley Street Baptist Church every Monday afternoon,” Haynes was told.
“What years would have been?” he asked.
When he was told, his face lit up.
“I taught those classes every Monday afternoon,” he said, offering a hug. “I must have been your teacher!”
In years to come whenever we happened to meet he’d playfully ask, “How’s my student?”
He never knew how much that meant.
During the 40 years he graced the pulpit of Twelfth Baptist, establishing that venerable landmark as a rock in a weary land, Michael Haynes soared with eagles — Dr. King, Billy Graham — and yet maintained a pastor’s heart.
A couple years ago, nearing 90, he delivered a sermon at Tremont Temple that emphasized Scripture’s timeless theme of redemption, asserting it’s never too late to change directions and start over.
Anyone could see he was becoming frail, until he began to speak — then that oratorical brilliance made him seem 37 again.
“Three strikes and you’re out!” he thundered, allowing that thought to resonate around the sanctuary before lowering his voice to a whisper and asking, “Says who?”
It was beautiful. He was beautiful.
“Lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime,” Longfellow wrote, “and, departing, leave behind us footprints on the sands of time.”
Pastor Haynes, who died last week at 92, will be buried this Saturday.
He left footprints all over this city and, more importantly, left his fingerprints on the countless lives he touched, including this one.
Goodbye, teacher, and God bless.