
DATE: Tuesday, September 16, 1997           TAG: 9709160042

SECTION: DAILY BREAK             PAGE: E1   EDITION: FINAL 

SOURCE: BY LIZ SZABO, STAFF WRITER 

                                            LENGTH:  129 lines

IN GOD'S HANDS: LOCAL DEAF CHURCHES SHARE THE WORD IN SIGN LANGUAGE

JANNIE CUFFY sings with the grace of a dancer.

Standing squarely in place at her church's altar, she sings with her hands, her smile, her eyes, her entire body. She sings with the Holy Spirit, with words that speak volumes.

And she sings without her voice.

Forming the sign for ``change,'' Cuffy's arms describe an arc high over her head, a fluid, sweeping movement, showing that the change of which she sings is no ordinary transformation.

No organ music accompanies her gospel hymn. But across the pews, rows of hands echo Cuffy's movements, a rhythmically rolling wave signing in time to a silent beat.

It is Sunday morning at Norfolk's Deaf Baptist Chapel.

Like other churchgoers, the men and women who flock there are called by their need for God. Yet the members of the area's deaf churches are also drawn by their need for each other, they say, and the unique community and culture of the deaf.

At the chapel, the deaf find a place where they can worship in their own language - one filled with visual poetry, with sights if not sounds. It is a place where they participate in the service - rather than stand apart and follow along with an interpreter.

``I go to another hearing church, and I feel alone,'' signed Virginia Beach's David Hansel, who attends the Deaf Missionary Church Norview. ``The first time I came here, I was so happy.''

Differences in national sign languages, religion and culture seem small compared to a common need for Christian fellowship and communal worship found at the missionary church, signed Icilda Small, wife of assistant pastor Egerton Small. Both are deaf.

``We're all mixed in together - Jamaica, Bolivia, the Philippines, the Virgin Islands,'' she signed. The Smalls moved to Norfolk from Kingston, Jamaica, four years ago. Although they were raised using Jamaican Sign Language, they have also learned American Sign Language. ``We have a little bit different sign languages, but the message is the same,'' signed Icilda Small.

Services are held in voice and sign, with hymns signed as music is played at high volume on loudspeakers.

The church's pastor, Dan Dowdy, is hearing but signs fluently. While Small preaches in ASL, Dowdy uses ``pidgeon sign,'' a combination of ASL and English used by many hearing people accustomed to English grammar.

The 60-year-old missionary church, a nondenominational congregation, turns no one away. It even includes many deaf with Catholic upbringings.

``We're a real melting pot,'' said Dowdy, who is in his fifth year as pastor. ``We voice and sign everything, because some hearing people have deaf children, but they want to bring them to church to expose them to deaf culture.

``One reason it's good not to have a denomination is that you'd limit yourself to who you could reach. Denominations are something that man has created. We don't want to see barriers.''

Still, it takes work, said Icilda Small.

``There are different religions, and some want to stay with their own denominations,'' she signed. ``But most people are flexible and will bend a bit.''

What unites them is their deaf culture, signed the Rev. R. Allen Justice, who has been pastor of the 31-year-old Deaf Baptist Chapel for 11 years. He and his wife drive to Norfolk from Richmond each Sunday. Some church members drive from as far away as Manteo.

``The deaf way of life is not the same as the way of life of a hearing person,'' Justice signed. ``The only way you'll understand is to be deaf yourself. Their backgrounds are very different. It's a silent world, based on the visual. You listen with your ears. We listen with our eyes.''

Justice points out that his church has no sound system. Its piano sits in a corner, unused.

Children are treated differently in deaf churches, as well.

An older deaf woman, for example, did not reprimand her hearing granddaughter when the little girl began to hum ``America the Beautiful'' during Justice's sermon. The little girl began softly, scanning quickly from side to side for possible scowls of disapproval from the other adults, then hummed more loudly as her attention waned.

Humming would never be allowed at a hearing church. On the other hand, the impatient fidgeting permitted at most churches would be frowned upon here; it would create too much distracting visual noise for adults trying to watch Justice preach.

Justice's gospel talks are energetic, exhausting performances - not because he's preaching fire and brimstone but because he's acting out Bible stories to make them come alive.

It's that kind of drama that helps bridge the language gap between natives of so many countries.

Blanca Golden, from Peru, said it was a challenge to learn ASL. She still rolls her R's with a rich South American accent as she voices along with her signs. But the effort was well worth it.

``I'm among my own here,'' Golden signed. ``Before, I felt like I wasn't really meeting other deaf. Here, I really feel at home.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photos

NHAT MEYER/The Virginian-Pilot

Deaf Baptist Church: Jannie Cuffy practices her singing...

Allen Justice, a preacher...

Deaf Missionary Church: pastor Dan Dowdy...

Cliff and Blanca Golden after Sunday service...

Photos

NHAT MEYER/The Virginian-Pilot

Members chat at Deaf Baptist Chapel in Norfolk. Some church members

drive to services from as far away as Manteo.

The sign for love is reflected in a mirror while the Rev. Allen

Justice begins to preach at Deaf Baptist Chapel in Norfolk.

Graphic