Obama’s Other Pastor

In the early summer of 2000, the Houston megachurch pastor Kirbyjon Caldwell got a phone call that would change his life. The George W. Bush campaign was on the line, wanting to know if Caldwell would introduce his friend the governor of Texas at the Republican National Convention. "I was shocked. I did not expect the call," Caldwell recently said over lunch in Houston. "And I told the guy, I've got to pray on this. This is big."

It was big. George W. Bush was—to state the obvious—a Republican, and in Texas, as elsewhere, relations between African-Americans and the GOP were strained. Caldwell himself was a registered Democrat, though he had voted for Bush for governor. The last Republican president to garner more than 30 percent of the African-American vote was Richard Nixon in 1960. As the pastor of a huge congregation, Caldwell knew that 11,000 mostly working- and middle-class blacks—schoolteachers and mail carriers—looked to him as an example. He knew that his support of Bush, while historic, would be seen by some as a betrayal.

On the other hand, Caldwell genuinely liked Bush. In politics people use the word "friend" promiscuously, but in this case the conventional meaning applies. Bush and Caldwell had been close for about three years. After they met at a party, Caldwell began working as an informal adviser to the governor, giving him what he calls the "man on the street" perspective on local issues. Both Houston natives, the men shared an appreciation for what Caldwell calls "Christian ethics and American values." They were devoted to their families, they prospered, they endeavored to do good in the world, they confessed to Jesus Christ. Over the years, Caldwell saw how the twins Jenna and Barbara "adored" their father; he got to know former president George H.W. Bush and the former First Lady, whom Caldwell describes as "a hoot." The Bushes were good people.

He called the campaign and said yes. In a six-minute speech on Aug. 3, he promoted the would-be president's plan to fund faith-based organizations. "The governor's plan will ignite a social and economic revival among the working poor of this country," he said. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the revival begin!"

In this fraught and divisive election season, it is hard to remember the excitement religious conservatives felt about Bush in 2000. His plain-spoken evangelical faith and his commitment to supporting religious groups through government funding motivated even many African-Americans and Hispanics to vote the Republican ticket for the first time in their lives. (In 2004, religious African-Americans were credited with winning Ohio for Bush.) Caldwell voted for Bush for president not once, but twice. Twice he gave the invocation at Bush's Inauguration. He spent the night in the Lincoln Bedroom; he dined with Prince Charles and Camilla, the Duchess of Cornwall; and this past May, standing before a Texas limestone cross festooned with white blossoms, Caldwell presided over the marriage of First Daughter Jenna Bush and Henry Hager.

But after Bush's two terms in office, Caldwell, who is 55, has seen little evidence of the revival he promised that night in 2000. Last summer he aligned himself with a man who he believes better represents the Christian ethics and American values he preaches: Barack Obama. Over the past year, Caldwell has given himself heart and soul to the Democratic nominee. He's donated time and money to the Obama campaign (he says his contributions come out of his personal bank account); he's built a pro-Obama Web site; he's appeared in a television ad on behalf of Obama with his wife, Suzette; he's arranged meetings between Obama and other prominent clergymen; he talks to the campaign several times a week; and he's met and prayed with the candidate and the candidate's wife a handful of times. Over and over, in public and in private, he praises what he calls Obama's "heart," a quality that can still move him to tears. Obama's race, though appealing, is by itself "insufficient for my support," Caldwell says.