The Rev. Carolyn Cavaness, Mother Bethel A.M.E.’s first female pastor, reflects on her first year
Cavaness previously was the first woman pastor at Bethel A.M.E. Church of Ardmore.
The Rev. Carolyn Cavaness is adjusting to her new life as a celebrity.
Any pastor of the historic Mother Bethel A.M.E. Church might get stopped and asked for a picture while walking down the street, as she sometimes does. The church is a national historic landmark, long celebrated for its role as a hub for Black activism and the oldest church property in the United States to be owned continuously by Black people.
But in November, Cavaness, 42, was appointed as the first female pastor in the church’s 238-year history. She is a fourth-generation A.M.E. preacher from Newark, N.J., and previously led the Bethel A.M.E. Church of Ardmore for 10 years, also serving as its first woman pastor. Cavaness took over for the Rev. Mark Kelly Tyler, who had left Mother Bethel after 16 years.
“Some days I have this moment where I say, ‘Wow, Carolyn, you are the pastor of Mother Bethel. You’re in the big chair. What if somebody else was in this spot? What would they be doing in this moment?’” she said.
While Cavaness brings a new perspective, she is also focused on honoring the legacy of the 52 pastors and their congregations who came before. She said that the church’s first members knew immediately that they were “a big deal” who would matter greatly to the Black community. Two centuries later, that is still the case.
“Here I am in this 21st century and having to be the caretaker, but also being called to action,” Cavaness said.
“So what becomes our contribution?”
Cavaness spoke with The Inquirer about her first year at Mother Bethel, what it has meant to take on her trailblazing role, and how the church’s tradition of resilience inspires her and the congregation.
This conversation has been edited for clarity.
Your first sermon at Mother Bethel was an emotional one, about your family’s deep Philly roots and great achievements born out of the Black struggle, even though you were only notified about your appointment just the day before. What do you remember about that day? What have you learned about what Mother Bethel means to people over the past year?
It was surreal. I mean I literally found out less than 24 hours before. But that is being an itinerant preacher [of] Methodist tradition. You’re here to serve.
I had very much the sentiment of “I wish my dad and my grandmothers were here to see this.”
I think about when I walked into the pulpit for the first time, how the congregation stood up. I think about the smiles, the hugs. I think about the flowers they gave me. And the sacred trust that I’ve been given.
It’s been an amazing first year, definitely life-transforming, being entrusted with this national, this international treasure. I have just been captivated by the testament and the hope that she bears.
There’s this connection, this affinity for her. We’ve gotta be intentional about being the light, about being a place of love, sanctuary, refuge, that people feel safe. That’s a real thing for me.
The people I’ve come to know, the smiles, their new sense of hope — it is possible, you know? People have a sense of joy, and you can feel that and see that. Sometimes when you’re a leader, you’re in a vacuum. And so to hear and to see people smiling more, that does something. As a pastor, that’s a gift. You feel that you’re making a difference.
You are the first woman pastor at Mother Bethel A.M.E. How has it felt to hold that distinction, and how have people received you?
People have been very supportive. It’s about building trust and relationships. All I knew, I could only be Carolyn. I can’t be anybody I’m not. I like to laugh, I like to joke. I think I have surprised people by being accessible.
Many people have reminded me, “You know, reverend, you’re a historical figure. Amongst the 53, there’s gonna be that picture of you." It’s very humbling.
I went to New Orleans and an older gentleman walked up and he said, “Hello, good to meet you. You’re pastor of Mother Bethel.” Fifty years ago, that would have been a different conversation.
I have two twin nephews. They had a women’s history project, and they wrote about me being the pastor of Mother Bethel. My 5-year-old nephews are esteeming me. That was special.
When you were appointed last year, Donald Trump had just won the election, and many of your congregation were fearful of what was to come. What is Mother Bethel’s role during this time?
We are resilient people. This is not the first time that we have had pharaohs and tyrants and dictators.
Here is an institution providing, a way in which government ought to, esteem and affirm and care for [people]. Democracy has ideals, but here, this place, Mother Bethel, is where it’s realized. Where you’re a safe haven and a sanctuary. The principles and the ideals of the Free African Society. We come from that legacy, from that line where we have always taken care. We have always filled a gap. We’ve always been out front.
Another has definitely been around how we honor our history and legacy. I was honored to give the eulogy for Ruby Boyd — she was the first African American librarian in the city of Philadelphia. She lived to be 105, and she’s one noted for putting into a book, On This Rock, of Mother Bethel, the history of many of the stained glass window collection, pictures and little vignettes about the pastors. And so in my eulogy, I talked about that we have a responsibility to tell the story and to make it accessible.
This regime of erasure has really amplified my efforts as the spiritual leader and also just how important Mother Bethel is.
What are you looking forward to in year two?
I’m looking forward to the [Semiquincentennial], the 250th. Definitely the larger preservation plan, there are some conversations that we as a congregation are gonna be having about her preservation and how accessible [it is]. And to continue to tell this story.
I think also around community engagement. Just seeing people becoming more strengthened in their sense of witness.