I grew up in Olive Branch, Mississippi. My life, until I went to college, revolved around church. I went to Sunday school, vacation Bible school, children’s church, Bible study, after church service and revival. I lived and breathed church. When I finally got tickets to Kanye West’s Sunday Service at the Forum in Inglewood, California, this past November, my excitement was palpable. Kanye’s recently released, “Jesus is King,” had whet my appetite.
For me, entering into a church service is like a dance. Everyone has their position and routine. The ushers try to get people to sit at the front. The choir is in its designated area near the pulpit, preparing to bring people to their feet to worship the Lord. The rest of the congregation is either chatting with fellow church members or trying to gather their children and let them know the church rules.
But the experience I remember from my youth is not what you get at Kanye’s Sunday Service, where people buy items and merch from concession stands, including official Sunday Service clothing, while waiting for Kanye to start. Prices for these items range from $60 to $240. For $240 you get a burnt yellow hoodie with a blue and black circle parallel to each other. Quotes run along the arms saying “If Ye Can, We Can.” Another quote on the back declares, “That’s On God!”
Once inside the Forum’s main space — its heart, where Sunday Service is held — you see a colorful circulare array of plants and flowers reminiscent of a lush meadow. Above this field a blacked-out projector in the shape of an oval hovers.
This is not a church.
The dark oval shape slowly fills with light and a sonic wall of voices surges toward your ears, making hairs on your arms stand up. The once blackened oval brightens, aglow! Like the gates of heaven opening to the world below. “Jesus is King, the Lord of Lords,” the choir proclaims, this is (more like) church. Everyone on stage is dressed in beige, which seems to be Kanye’s favorite color. Visually everyone is equal. No one stands out, not even Kanye himself. Everyone is one, singing praises to the Lord. Is this church?
The choir’s songs gave me flashbacks to St. Luke Church of God in Christ, and how as a kid I would dance along to its harmonies. The music is the music of the Black church of my childhood. Donald Lawrence & the Tri-City Singers’ “Encourage Yourself” was the song that lifted me through preparing to take the LSAT and then finding out I was not accepted into law school. I recently heard the song, “In the Sanctuary,” and immediately got teary eyed. It made me homesick. It brought me back. Gospel music has been the soundtrack of my life. It’s the words my mom would use when she did not know another way of helping me. This was the music that helped mold me into the woman I am today.
But, inside the Forum, these memories vanished, and even seemed tarnished, compromised. My body in a battle, pushing and pulling, tried to figure out where I was. I was not in a sanctuary. I was in a concert arena for Kanye. I was surrounded by strangers.
This is not church.
Even though this is Kanye’s Sunday Service you hardly see him at all. The choir director, who stands in the middle of the stage —on top of what appears to be a piano —while conducting, is most prevalent. When Kanye is finally visible during “Ultralight Beam,” the crowd roars. It has been waiting for him.
To a certain extent, I knew what I was getting myself into by attending a Sunday Service. I knew the conversations happening around Kanye and his monetization of the Black church experience. On the other hand, I was hoping Kanye’s vision would be wrapped into the spirit of the Lord; I wanted to experience what he said Sunday Service would be.
But, it is something completely foreign. Tickets are as much as $100 for a church service where the “featured” pastor only speaks for ten minutes. It is choreographed and artificial. I have never bought a ticket on Ticketmaster to attend a church service before. That’s something usually reserved for concerts, not church.
This is not church.
Looking around, I wondered if others felt as conflicted as I did. One guy, who had previously been on his phone recording for Instagram, had his hands stretched out, seemingly to the Lord.
Watching Kanye, you can tell he believes everything he is doing.
“(This is) the celebration of the peace that Christ can bring on your spirit, the peace that Christ has brought on mine,” he said, during Sunday Service. “It started in a rehearsal space the first Sunday of this year, and it was put on my heart to start a church”
This is not church. This is Kanye’s church.
Kanye, through his music, attempts to connect us to God. Maybe it touches people in the crowd, maybe it doesn’t. The show has its flaws like Kanye does and it is confusing like Kanye is.
This is not church. This is Kanye’s church.