Kenneth Briggs
wrote "Double Crossed: Uncovering the Catholic Church's Betrayal of American Nuns"
On the prayer front, the bulk of the pre-inaugural hoopla focused on the choice of conservative pastor Rick Warren for the invocation. But in the end, it was the prayer of the far less publicized preacher on the platform that sent spirits soaring, awakening what Lincoln called the "better angels of our nature."
The Rev. Joseph Lowery, a giant of the civil-rights era, provided the stirring finish to the ceremony with a plea for justice in his benediction.
In the arcane practice of public praying - usually an awkward ritual at best - benedictions are tougher than invocations. Praying when crowds are fresh is generally preferable to holding them up when they're itching to leave.
Warren, therefore, had an advantage going in. But an uproar over his stance on gay marriage had raised expectations.
Barack Obama's selection of Warren was widely seen as an effort to open his tent to diverse voices. It drew fire from the start, mostly from those objecting to Warren's active role in California's ban on gay marriage.
Lowery, one of the surviving patriarchs of the Martin Luther King Jr. days, had a somewhat secondary role. But once he had spoken his final words, his prayer had carried the day.
Warren's blessing, which came in the last minutes of the Bush presidency, fell as flat as the outgoing administration. It contained nothing memorable and, despite some huffing and puffing, showed no signs of life.
Then came Aretha Franklin, the John Williams composition, the oath, the address. When Lowery's turn came like a caboose at the end of a long train, the elderly, stately minister lumbered to the podium and offered a ringing, lyrical appeal for renewed devotion to equality and compassion.
His words were the most challenging, inspiring and powerful of the day. Taking a page from the prophet Isaiah, he yearned for a peaceful time when the world would "beat tanks into tractors." He prayed for the day when "black will not be asked to give back, when brown can stick around, when yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead, man, and when white will embrace what is right."
The Baptist preacher's voice resounded in the cadences of African American church life, steeped in Scripture, and the result evoked laughter, tears and cheers from the throng. The new president beamed; his head swayed. It was an elevated moment unlike any other during the event; Lowery's words had moved the masses as none other had.
Lowery's passion flowed from the fires of the Old Testament - the testimony honored by Jews, Muslims and Christians - and paid special recognition to Muslims. Warren, by contrast, put a more distinctly Christian stamp on his invocation.
Lowery's shining moment might dim Warren's luster as the new evangelical darling of the media. Warren's celebrity stemmed not only from his having built a mega-church and written a mega-selling book. He also took positions on global warming and other issues that clashed with others in the religious right. So ascendant was his reputation that both Obama and John McCain agreed to appear at his church for a nationally televised campaign forum.
Warren's runner-up inaugural prayer isn't likely to stop the protests or slow his wider pursuits. But it may put a hold on recent attempts to install him as the "next Billy Graham." Though he did say a prayer at the inauguration, it wasn't
the
prayer.