THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, February 1, 1996 TAG: 9602030294
SECTION: THE AFRICAN AMERICAN TODAYPAGE: 14 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Special section
SOURCE: BY DENISE WATSON, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 157 lines
The Rev. Sharon Holley becomes wistful when she talks about growing up in the church, days when the black church was simply THE CHURCH.
Times when the house of worship was the community center, the altar, the debate podium, the minister, the community activist. It's as if those days are of some long-lost era.
``Years ago, the church was the hub of the African-American community,'' said Holley, pastor of Christian Temple United Church of Christ in Norfolk.
``It not only provided spiritual help, it addressed the social needs as well as the physical needs and emotional needs. You don't have that anymore.''
Holley is molding her church to fit into that ``traditional'' role by offering everything from Sunday worship and parenting classes to voter registration and support for events like the Million Man March of a few months ago.
But she says more churches need to do the same.
``There are a lot of churches who are going back to that, but many are not,'' Holley said.
``Churches used to be lending institutions. . . The church had a role in politics, but now many don't want churches to come out and endorse people. . disconnectedness with the church and community.''
The church is one of the greatest historic strengths of black folk - one of the few places blacks could own and control.
During slavery, churches meant refuge, often the only place blacks could socialize with little outside interference.
After emancipation, churches meant support, helping freed men relocate and find work. Some churches financed homes and businesses when blacks couldn't get loans elsewhere.
The church meant school when there weren't any for blacks, and recreation when black children couldn't play in public playgrounds.
The church meant freedom and liberation: a place to safely sing to the Lord, ``Let My People Go!'' Church leaders often missed Sunday sermon sitting in jail in the name of civil disobedience.
But in an era of AIDS and a time when a disproportionate amount of African Americans are in jail and on welfare, the black church has been criticized as not meeting today's needs.
``I'd like to make a plea for churches to get more involved,'' said Chesapeake minister the Rev. Jake Manley .
``We don't need welfare, that's what the church is supposed to do. That's why we tithe. We need to be like we used to be. We've lost our zeal.''
But not all ministers think churches have lost the spirit.
There are some local churches that have kept pace with the changing challenges of society - providing housing, jobs, a sense of self and spirituality.
``The church simply still functions as it historically has,'' said the Rev. Geoffrey Guns, president of the Tidewater Metro Baptist Ministers' Conference.
``It is not lethargic or self-centered. It's more alive than it has ever been. While the church can't solve every problem, we are working to bring solutions to as many problems as we can.''
Black congregations were born in the mid-1700s as the religious revivals, known as the Great Awakening, spread through the colonies.
Small plantation congregations sprouted in the South with the popularity of Separatists, or New Light, Baptists who stressed the independence of congregations.
Many of the plantation groups were ``invisible'' churches, groups of slaves and freed blacks who worshipped in secret because some laws made it illegal for blacks to congregate. African Americans in the North and border states often formed churches as outgrowths of segregated white churches that limited blacks to a few pews to worship.
Many black churches gained their independence between 1800 and 1860 as blacks pooled their resources and bought their own land and buildings. The churches became forums for abolitionists, centers for debates on civil rights and shelters for slaves fleeing the South.
The church became the institution aimed at serving the varying needs of its people. Many still do.
Main Street Baptist Church in Smithfield was formed in 1881 and cultivated a strong reputation for community activism.
``When I became active in the church, we had a minister that was very youth-oriented,'' said Blount, the 69-year-old treasurer of the church.
``We had the Scouts and all sorts of activities. Always something going on.''
During the '60s and '70s, the church heard parishioners complain of a lack of affordable housing in the area. The church listened and built Church Manor apartments, a 50-unit complex for low-income families, in 1972.
Two years ago, the church completed a 40-unit housing complex for senior citizens.
Blount said the church was the first in the state to provide non-profit housing.
``We've always tried looking after our seniors,'' Blount said. ``And we've been able to spread out in other parts of the community. You can't help just one part of the community.''
Guns of Second Calvary Baptist church in Norfolk has also listened and identified what he considers a major obstacle in the social progress of African Americans.
``We fall short economically,'' Guns said. ``We're not really conversant with how the economic system works. We haven't practiced the collective power of the dollar.''
Thus, Guns began two investment clubs within the church to help members with personal finance.
The Black Heritage Investment club began in December 1991 and now has more than $45,000 in investments. The church also has a leadership institute that teaches management skills.
``Freedom. You can't be free without economic freedom,'' Guns said.
``And you can't talk about liberating a people when 10 percent are free and 90 are not. We need to build economic partnerships, economic alliances. Your economic future is tied to the well-being of other people.
``None of you are going to be free if your financial situation is messed up.''
The Rev. Manley believes some of the most prevalent problems in the community surround the ``forgotten people'' - drug addicts, former convicts, prostitutes.
``People that others don't want to deal with,'' Manley said.
His church has dealt with them by developing the Showers of Bless- ings Outreach Ministry.
In addition to more traditional offerings like day care and tutorial services, Manley's church has support groups for AIDS and HIV patients, counseling for men who abuse their wives, and rehabilitation and counseling for substance abusers and prostitutes.
On Thursday nights at 7:30, the church has the ``What To Do When You Don't Know What To Do'' session, which provides free legal and financial advice to help women who have been deserted by their husbands.
``I do what I do because I hear so many leaders talk about crime, black-on-black crime, the rising jail population, but no one fully addresses the needs of these boys and girls once they've served time,'' Manley said.
``When our boys have pulled their time, they're out of jail, they have no money, no job, they have to eat. If they don't have a job, they're going to steal. No one wants to address that.''
Until others do, Manley keeps his church doors open every day from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. and closes them briefly before opening them again until 10.
``This is the church,'' Manley said. ``The poor can come here, the bereaved can come here, the low in spirit can come here anytime.''
``That's what the church is about.'' ILLUSTRATION: Photo courtesy of Churchland Baptist Church history room
This 1905 baptism photo includes members of Portsmouth's Grove
Baptist Church, which was an outgrowth of the predominantly white
Churchland Baptist Church.
Photos
HUY NGUYEN/The Virginian-Pilot
Rev. Sharon Holley, center, gives a sermon at Christian Temple
United Church of Christ in Norfolk with help of Rev. J.M. Burwell,
left, and Rev. Linda Clark, right.
GARY C. KNAPP for The Virginian-Pilot
Members of Bethany Baptist Church in Chesapeake gather for Bible
study on Wednesday nights.
KEYWORDS: SPECIAL SECTION SUPPLEMENT AFRICAN-AMERICAN
HISTORY BLACK HISTORY by CNB