Talking against Religion is unchaining a Tyger; the Beast let loose may worry his Deliverer. —Benjamin Franklin on Philosophy and Religion

             When Benjamin Franklin was carried to his grave “his casket was accompanied by all the clergymen of the city [of Philadelphia], every one of them, of every faith.”[1]  Franklin recognized early on that religious groups, now commonly defined as faith-based organizations (FBOs) serve as vital town-hall forums—key connections with united collectives of people who share common beliefs.
                    “There were Lutherans and Moravians and Quakers and even Jews, as well as Calvinists, living side by side in what became known as the City of Brotherly Love. Franklin helped formulate the creed that they would all be better off, personally and economically, if they embraced an attitude of tolerance. Franklin believed in God and in the social usefulness of religion, but he did not subscribe to any particular sectarian doctrine. This led him to help raise money to build a new hall in Philadelphia that was, as he put it, ‘expressly for the use of any preacher of any religious persuasion who might desire to say something.’ He added, ‘Even if the Mufti of Constantinople were to send a missionary to preach Mohammedanism to us, he would find a pulpit at his service.’”[2]            In looking to the rebuilding of New Orleans, religious institutions are a resource that should not be ignored. Religion, after all, played a large role in the development of the city in the first place. The city was originally settled by the French and Spanish, with the help of the Ursuline nuns who offered medical and other aid to early settlers, with the result that the city was shaped by Catholicism from the onset. Even the physical design of the city was effected by the Church; St. Louis Cathedral, the seat of the New Orleans archdiocese, anchors Jackson Square, the middle of the French Quarter, the original city itself and still the heart of the place today. Later influxes of Irish and Italian immigrants only solidified the cultural leaning, bringing in their own annual St. Patrick and St. Joseph’s Day traditions. The significance of religion to the city today is rarely considered, thanks to its global identification as a center for decadence, but one need not look any further than the flashpoint of said decadence, Mardi Gras, to see the influence. The last day before the commencement of Lent, Mardi Gras, or “Fat Tuesday,” is celebrated by “carnival,” which roughly translates as “farewell to the flesh.” It’s the last blow out before the season of Lenten deprivation and piety. Mardi Gras’ current image of a giant frat party/spring break extension fails to include Ash Wednesday, when a notably large segment of the city’s population bears ashes on their (probably hungover) foreheads.

            One of the most historic and notable active Catholic churches is St. Augustine’s in the Treme, a living community of integrated worship. In the 1830’s permission was given to free people of color to build the church and the church was dedicated in 1842[3]. The web site for the church states,

          A few months before the October 9, 1842 dedication of St. Augustine Church, the people of color began to purchase pews for their families to sit. Upon hearing of this, white people in the area started a campaign to buy more pews than the colored folks. Thus, The War of the Pews began and was ultimately won by the free people of color who bought three pews to every one purchased by the whites. In an unprecedented social, political and religious move, the colored members also bought all the pews of both side aisles. They gave those pews to the slaves as their exclusive place of worship, a first in the history of slavery in the United States.
         This mix of the pews resulted in the most integrated congregation in the entire country: one large row of free people of color, one large row of whites with a smattering of ethnics, and two outer aisles of slaves. Except for a brief six-month period when its sanctuary was enlarged and blessed in time for Christmas 1925, St. Augustine Church has been in continuous use as a place of worship until the present time[4].

            Under the direction of long-time pastor Fr. Jerome LeDoux, in recent decades St. Augustine’s incorporated the traditions of its community into services: jazz masses (appropriate since this is the home church of musicians ranging from the venerable—Sydney Bechet—to the up and coming—Troy and James Andrews), African kente cloth used in liturgical garments, Mardi Gras Indian chants worked into the liturgy, gospel choirs and more. St. Augustine’s also dedicated a shrine, “The Tomb of the Unknown Slave,” as a way to honor the sad roots of the neighborhood.

            Black Baptist churches are also a small but important part of the religious landscape in Catholic-dominated New Orleans. The city’s rich musical heritage has intimate links with its protestant churches, their large gospel choirs, and acceptance of instruments—horns, drums, pianos, guitars—traditionally associated with secular music. Mahalia Jackson, whose headstone in a Metairie cemetery reads “World’s Greatest Gospel Singer,” first sang publicly at The Plymouth Rock Baptist Church.[5] In the early part of the twentieth century, Buddy Bolden, one of New Orleans’ first jazz stars, played a regular gig at a venue that doubled as a Baptist church on Sundays[6]. In his acclaimed series Jazz, the documentary filmmaker Ken Burns claims that the roots of jazz lay in the music of the Baptist church and its “profane twin,” the blues, that came to New Orleans with black refugees from the Mississippi Delta.[7]

But the significance of religion in New Orleans is not limited to official, organized religions, even allowing for the city’s unique cultural spin on same, most significantly the misunderstood phenomena of voudou (as it is properly spelled). Lost among the kitsch of voodoo dolls and gawking tourists is a very real religion with a serious past and considerable cultural importance. Voudou’s roots can be traced in part back to the African Yoruba religion, which incorporates the worship of several different spiritual forces that include a supreme being, deities, and the spirits of ancestors. When Africans were kidnapped, enslaved, and brought to Brazil—and, ultimately, Haiti—beginning in the 1500s, they brought their religion with them.

By the 1700s, 30,000 slaves a year were brought to Haiti. Voudou began to emerge at this time as different African religions met and melded. Slaves were forced to convert to Catholicism, but they found it easy to practice both religions. Voudou gods were given saints’ names, and voudou worship more or less continued, appropriating certain Catholic rituals and beliefs.

Napoleonic law forced slave owners to give their slaves Sundays off and to provide them with a gathering place. Congo Square on Rampart Street, part of what is now Louis Armstrong Park, became the place for slaves to gather for voudou or drumming rituals. Voudou then was a way for slaves to have their own community and a certain amount of freedom. The religion emphasized knowledge of family and gave power to ancestors. Further, women were usually the powerful forces in voudou—priestesses ran matters more often than priests—and this appealed to women in a time when women simply didn’t have that kind of authority and power. The Congo Square gatherings ultimately became more like performance pieces, emphasizing drumming and music rather than religious rituals. Because of the square’s proximity to what became Storyville, legend has it that madams from the houses would come down to the Sunday gatherings and hire some of the performers to entertain at their houses, thus laying the groundwork for jazz. It is estimated that today as much as 15% of the population of New Orleans practices voudou.

            New Orleans' Spiritual churches are a unique combination of Roman Catholicism, Spiritualism, Pentecostalism, and voudou. The Spiritual churches honor God the Father, Jesus, and an array of saints, ancestors, and spirit guides--particularly the Native American chief Black Hawk--by whom worshipers become possessed and through whose power they heal and prophesy. Though the movement officially dates back to 1920, the components of the belief system were long in place in the rich demographics of New Orleans, from the Catholic downtown Creoles of color, to the downtown working class “American” blacks. The prevalence of voudou created an openness towards such magical workings, plus the Spiritual tradition, shared by voudou, of congregations led by female ministers and bishops.[8]

 

The Post-Katrina Role of Churches in New Orleans

 

Like most institutions in New Orleans, churches have suffered an immense loss of members and places to worship. Regardless of denomination, churches in the most flooded neighborhoods lie in shambles, abandoned, parishioners scattered across the country. In the weeks after Katrina, Fred Luter, pastor of one of the largest black Baptist congregations in the Upper Ninth Ward had heard from only 200 of his 8000 members.[9] A year later things are not much better numbers-wise. The tiny Spiritual churches will probably never recover—their congregations were so small to begin with—and so an entire original spiritual movement could die as a result of the disaster. St. Augustine’s, already in jeopardy thanks to diminishing church membership, was officially shut down some months after Katrina by the archdiocese, only to get an eighteen month reprieve after international press prompted a letter-writing campaign urging the Church to reconsider.

This is precisely the kind of lack of foresight that needs to be addressed. Given the role of St. Augustine has played throughout its history, but in particular in its last two decades, in its local community as a place of not only cultural preservation but vitalization, it can be a model for the possibilities offered by religious organizations, whether affiliated with a proper church structure or not. In a letter to St. Augustine supporters, the church’s pastoral council states, “Prior to Katrina, St. Augustine served as a vibrant community center. However, since Katrina, St. Augustine has blossomed into a critical community center, which includes a free food pantry, clothing and toy distribution center, and an information center”[10]. In another letter from the council dated February 17, 2006 it is stated, “With the help of international and national organizations and numerous volunteers, St. Augustine feeds approximately 100 families a day. In addition, people come there seeking medical supplies, grief support, and housing assistance”[11]. 

Given the history of outreach and aid associated with spiritual communities, this is a valuable resource for the rebuilding of New Orleans, one that symbiotically helps promote the recovery of the city while continuing and reviving its own traditions. Churches can be used for Town halls meetings without any violation of the separation of church and state; as the rebuilding process moves forward, it is vital to hold as many local forums as possible to allow for an exchange of views by all citizens.  Indeed, considering that faith communities remain the primary news source for so many, ensuring that a large portion of neighborhood meetings be hosted at places of worship is perhaps the only way to communicate vital news and decisions to a considerable segment of the population.

It’s especially pertinent now that, in some cases, a new spirit of camaraderie has emerged. Hopeview Baptist Church in St. Bernard Parish, a historically black church, has combined with Suburban Baptist Church in New Orleans East, a historically white church. “Before the storm, it was all chiefs looking out for individual entities;” said Jeffery Friend, pastor of Hopeview, “Now it's about Kingdom building rather than building our own individual kingdom.”[12]

Outside of New Orleans, many predominately African-American Baptist churches have decided to lend their support to rebuilding the churches hit hardest by Katrina. C.T. Vivian, an Atlanta pastor and one-time friend of Martin Luther King Jr., and New Orleans pastor Dwight Webster formed Churches Supporting Churches, which aims to assist 36 churches in New Orleans. CSC hopes to have ten individual churches across the nation lending “spiritual, financial, and technical assistance” to each one of the 36 New Orleans churches. Webster sees the revitalization of African-American churches as central to revitalizing neighborhoods. “We need to bring neighborhoods back, not just one church here and there,” Webster says. “We can do that if we get these 36 churches up.”[13]

Further, religious organizations are in a privileged position to seek often elusive funding. The Charitable Choice law, passed as part of the 1996 Welfare Reform Act, allowed overtly religious groups to compete for government grants to help welfare recipients. Until then, religious groups had to form secular affiliates, such as Catholic Charities or Lutheran Social Services, to apply for money.  The National Congregations Study, a 1998 report by University of Arizona sociologist Mark Chaves, found that 57% of congregations operate social service projects--but only 24% are aware of the charitable choice legislation.

Although faith-based charities are now eligible for funding, the field is fraught with controversy. Analysts, on both the left and the right, argue passionately about the benefits and problems of allowing faith-based charities to apply for funding and administer social service programs.[14]  There are concerns about tax-exemptions, proselytizing, hiring practices, and religious requirements as a condition of receiving services. The current administration states that they are committed to using faith-based organizations (FBOs) as a conduit to get funding to those in need, including New Orleans residents affected by Katrina.  The website of the White House Office of Faith-based and Community Initiatives (http://www.whitehouse.gov/government/fbci/grants.html) links viewers to the Federal Grants Process, with 200 grant-making programs in all areas of health and social services. Some New Orleans faith-based charities, such as Catholic Charities, have been providing services since long before the 1996 law and have established policies to address the thorny issues of separation of religious and community service programs.  The Archdiocese of New Orleans’ Catholic Charities helps victims of Hurricane Katrina through more than 35 programs.

Despite the widespread belief that FBOs were the most efficient and immediate respondents after the storm, there is still confusion about how funds can be channeled to those in need and the organizations that serve them.  A recent panel convened to analyze the role of FBOs in disaster relief pointed out the need for better coordination between government and faith-based groups in the future. Panelists described the field of disaster recovery as a competitive one, and that religious groups often find themselves pitted against FEMA for things like available hotel space. Fragmentation of disaster response services also leads to frustration in case management as different agencies use different case management software. [15]

Many small churches and FBOs have tried to get reimbursement for the cost of providing food, shelter, and services to Katrina victims, but have been lost in the maze of bureaucratic requirements that surround the funding.  A March 28, 2006, article reported that “Seven months after the Gulf Coast experienced a series of devastating hurricanes, faith-based and community organizations are beginning to receive federal help following delays in administrative processing and paperwork.  But for some faith leaders, the help is too little, too late. In recent weeks, many have called for more federal assistance, saying New Orleans still lies in ruin, and that faith-based organizations are being expected to carry a disproportionate burden of the relief services that are needed.  In Texas, Louisiana and Alabama government officials reported the program was fraught with snags as faith-based organizations struggled with complicated paperwork. In other cases, there were legal tangles over how federal money could be funneled to the local level.” [16]

FBOs are mostly small, grassroots groups of people, linked by a belief that they should put their spiritual beliefs into practice by helping those in need.  Together, these groups can play a major role in the recovery process for the city, but their efforts are diluted if each tries to work alone.  An effective, local coordinating council could significantly increase the return on their efforts by providing an infrastructure of support.

Many coordinating programs exist, but they are usually limited by denomination or other factors; for example, the above-mentioned Churches Supporting Churches (CSC) plans to assist 36 Baptist churches in the 12 hardest-hit areas. The National Council of Churches is acting as the group's fiduciary agent; and several denominations and ecumenical groups (including Mennonites, Church of the Brethren, the Baptist Peace Fellowship) have signed on.[17]

Another example of coordinated religious disaster response is provided by Church World Service, the relief, development, and refugee assistance ministry of 35 Protestant, Orthodox, and Anglican denominations in the United States.[18]  By July 28th, 2006, this agency has provided $2.6 million in grants, resources, and other assistance to people of the Gulf Coast, including ethnic communities like African American, Latino, Native American, and Vietnamese.

In order to coordinate all of the faith-based efforts in New Orleans, there needs to be a central site for gathering information, monitoring and assessing effectiveness of efforts already underway, and the creation of links between resources and those in need. 

The Archdiocese of New Orleans might seem to be a candidate to take on that role but PBS reported in April 2006 that it is financially ill-equipped to do so, operating at a monthly $1 million deficit, in addition to the $86 million gap between the cost of hurricane damage and what insurance will pay.[19]  This deficit has caused the Archdiocese to close many churches and combine the resulting small, homeless congregations into larger ones, often placing residents from heavily damaged neighborhoods at yet another disadvantage, depriving them of their familiar, neighborhood parish and requiring them to travel some distance (difficult if you have to rely on public transportation) to a new church. Many may choose not to attend at all, thus continuing to disenfranchise the disadvantaged and separate them from their traditional community and the aid that may now be possible.

 But pressure should be held on the Archdiocese of New Orleans not to withdraw support for St. Augustine’s (where seven months of its eighteen month reprieve have already elapsed), and which can be a model for community outreach and historical and cultural preservation. However, no bias should be shown to any particular denomination, nor against any spiritual movement based on lack of size and strength of following. It is important that help be available on an ecumenical basis, one that has an understanding of the rich and varied religious tradition in New Orleans, and the important cultural roles it has played in the city’s history. While some traditions may die out naturally (it may be too late to rescue the Spiritual movement), others may increase in strength; either way, these traditions developed organically and so should their next phase, without combating prejudice against forms that could be seen as less legitimate than others.

Reimbursement from the Federal government comes in many forms—spiritual, educational, cultural—and any faith-based organization is eligible to apply. All should have equal access to the information and help learning what is available. An overseeing body can help an interested group through the red tape to find the funding best suited for their needs. Such a group should be knowledgeable of the history of New Orleans and its culture, and be able to recognize a viable movement or church, and recognize its importance culturally, spiritually or in a community effort. This process will act as a natural filtering device, weeding out those who lack historical legitimacy or present-day commitment.

Perhaps the central coordinating role can best be undertaken by a non-religious organization, such as the Greater New Orleans Foundation, whose efforts would not be complicated by conflicting doctrinal priorities.  The Greater New Orleans Foundation has established the Rebuild New Orleans Fund, designated for the relief, recovery and betterment of the city.  This fund will focus on three principles:  creating an infrastructure of a community that works for everyone, rebuilding a New Orleans better than before Katrina, and honoring the social contract to involve the Greater New Orleans community in the process.  These philanthropic dollars will enable a broader voice to be heard during the restructuring process and will provide the best practices during the researching, planning and rebuilding progression. 

The Greater New Orleans Foundation contributed $1million to help establish the New Orleans Community Support Foundation (NOCSF) formed in June 2006 to create a comprehensive citywide infrastructure plan for the citizens of New Orleans. The plan, to be completed by year’s end, is endorsed by the Mayor of New Orleans, City Council, City Planning Commission, Regional Planning Commission, Louisiana Recovery Authority and U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development. The final citywide plan, encompassing all neighborhoods and planning districts, will be presented to the New Orleans City Planning Commission. It will then be submitted to the City Council and Mayor Nagin for approval. Ultimately, the plan will be submitted to the Louisiana Recovery Authority (LRA) as a guide to LRA’s investment of federal funds toward the strategic rebuilding of communities in Orleans Parish. Full information about the Greater New Orleans Foundation, the New Orleans Community Support Foundation, and the Rebuild New Orleans Fund can be found at http://www.gnof.org

The Greater New Orleans Foundation is a key player in the recovery efforts already underway.   This positions the institution to become a knowledgeable, trusted, local, and unbiased coordinating agency for the faith community in New Orleans’ renewal.  Without the oversight of such a central institution, faith based organizations may not be able to fulfill their potentially critical role in the city’s recovery.

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Religion: Cost/Benefit Analysis and Ethical Considerations

Rebuilding Projects:
1.    Concerted effort by all major decision-making bodies and political figures to hold a large portion of Town Halls and Community Forums in faith communities.
2.    Campaign to pressure the Archdiocese not to shut down St. Augustine’s church.
3.    Assignment to Greater New Orleans Foundation of responsibility for facilitating Faith Based Organizations’ (FBO’s) access to various pools of reconstruction resources.

Assumptions
•    The continuing, if not enhanced, role of faith communities as primary news outlets and settings for debate of local issues.
•    Archdiocese’s openness to ideas, emanating from outside the Church, about the importance of maintaining one of its own places of worship
•    Greater New Orleans Foundation’s willingness and capacity to accept the role of coordinator and mediator of the Crescent City’s numerous faith communities.

Constraints
•    I really can’t think of any constraint for Project #1 – it seems like there’s no drawback.  Do we absolutely have to come up with a constraint for every subproject?
•    The First Amendment: it is highly debatable whether it would be at all appropriate for any official rebuilding authority to meddle in the Archdiocese’s internal decisions about which churches to close and which to keep open.  Moreover, any attempt to do so might only result in an undesirable alienation between city leadership and the Church. Second, while the role of religious organization’s in New Orleans’ eventual rebirth is indisputable, a centrally coordinated effort to harness and encourage FBOs’ capacities for community organizing would perhaps inevitably violate the separation of Church and State.

Feasible Alternatives
•    Because the coordination of FBOs’ access to reconstruction funds can only be undertaken by a non-governmental organization, the delegation of such a responsibility to the Greater New Orleans Foundation (GNOF) would create a degree of separation between faith communities and any eventual master plan for rebuilding.  At the same time, the GNOF’s financial largess guarantees that it will be a major interlocutor with official rebuilding authorities, and will thus provide a real, but informal, channel of communication between the municipal government and FBOs.
•    Help me out with an alternative for dealing with the archdiocese…

Cost-Benefit Analysis

Costs:
Due to the separation of Church and State, any rebuilding authority would be allowed only the most informal – and non-monetary – coordination with Faith Based Communities.  Therefore, there would be no expenditures to mention, other than those involved with planning and producing Town Hall meetings in local faith communities.


Tangible Benefits
•    Regular opportunities for interaction between civic leaders and members of religious communities.
•    A maintained St. Augustine’s Church
•    Maximal financial support for faith communities’ many local initiatives

Intangible Benefits
•    Preservation of the many local religious traditions virtually unique to New Orleans
•    Increased understanding and solidarity between New Orleans faith communities

Comparison of cost and benefits:
•    Done wrong, any attempt to harness religious communities’ unique capacities for enhancing the social fabric could result in government overreach, or, conversely, in an unconstitutional treading by FBOs in public policy.  Irreparable rifts could emerge between the city and major religious institutions like the Church.
•    Done properly, however, delicate and wise efforts by rebuilding authorities to build bridges and work with faith communities could result in a respectful and productive working relationship between the city and New Orleans’ religious communities.
Ethical Considerations
The First Amendment was written to keep government and religious organizations from interfering in each others’ affairs, but not to drive a wedge between the people’s elected organs and its spiritual communities.  In a city as traumatized as New Orleans, it would be ludicrous, if not downright immoral, to attempt to use religion’s unifying potential to the advantage of rebuilding efforts.  However, fears of muddling the traditional high wall between Church and State are not irrational, and cannot be dismissed.  In a way, post-Katrina New Orleans offers the best laboratory in memory in which to experiment with the Founders’ vision of a society in which neither Church nor State dictates policy to the other, but in which informal and healthy partnerships can thrive for the good of all.

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Talking against Religion is unchaining a Tyger; the Beast let loose may worry his Deliverer. —Benjamin Franklin on Philosophy and Religion

             When Benjamin Franklin was carried to his grave “his casket was accompanied by all the clergymen of the city [of Philadelphia], every one of them, of every faith.”[1]  Franklin recognized early on that religious groups, now commonly defined as faith-based organizations (FBOs) serve as vital town-hall forums—key connections with united collectives of people who share common beliefs.
                    “There were Lutherans and Moravians and Quakers and even Jews, as well as Calvinists, living side by side in what became known as the City of Brotherly Love. Franklin helped formulate the creed that they would all be better off, personally and economically, if they embraced an attitude of tolerance. Franklin believed in God and in the social usefulness of religion, but he did not subscribe to any particular sectarian doctrine. This led him to help raise money to build a new hall in Philadelphia that was, as he put it, ‘expressly for the use of any preacher of any religious persuasion who might desire to say something.’ He added, ‘Even if the Mufti of Constantinople were to send a missionary to preach Mohammedanism to us, he would find a pulpit at his service.’”[2]            In looking to the rebuilding of New Orleans, religious institutions are a resource that should not be ignored. Religion, after all, played a large role in the development of the city in the first place. The city was originally settled by the French and Spanish, with the help of the Ursuline nuns who offered medical and other aid to early settlers, with the result that the city was shaped by Catholicism from the onset. Even the physical design of the city was effected by the Church; St. Louis Cathedral, the seat of the New Orleans archdiocese, anchors Jackson Square, the middle of the French Quarter, the original city itself and still the heart of the place today. Later influxes of Irish and Italian immigrants only solidified the cultural leaning, bringing in their own annual St. Patrick and St. Joseph’s Day traditions. The significance of religion to the city today is rarely considered, thanks to its global identification as a center for decadence, but one need not look any further than the flashpoint of said decadence, Mardi Gras, to see the influence. The last day before the commencement of Lent, Mardi Gras, or “Fat Tuesday,” is celebrated by “carnival,” which roughly translates as “farewell to the flesh.” It’s the last blow out before the season of Lenten deprivation and piety. Mardi Gras’ current image of a giant frat party/spring break extension fails to include Ash Wednesday, when a notably large segment of the city’s population bears ashes on their (probably hungover) foreheads.

            One of the most historic and notable active Catholic churches is St. Augustine’s in the Treme, a living community of integrated worship. In the 1830’s permission was given to free people of color to build the church and the church was dedicated in 1842[3]. The web site for the church states,

          A few months before the October 9, 1842 dedication of St. Augustine Church, the people of color began to purchase pews for their families to sit. Upon hearing of this, white people in the area started a campaign to buy more pews than the colored folks. Thus, The War of the Pews began and was ultimately won by the free people of color who bought three pews to every one purchased by the whites. In an unprecedented social, political and religious move, the colored members also bought all the pews of both side aisles. They gave those pews to the slaves as their exclusive place of worship, a first in the history of slavery in the United States.
         This mix of the pews resulted in the most integrated congregation in the entire country: one large row of free people of color, one large row of whites with a smattering of ethnics, and two outer aisles of slaves. Except for a brief six-month period when its sanctuary was enlarged and blessed in time for Christmas 1925, St. Augustine Church has been in continuous use as a place of worship until the present time[4].

            Under the direction of long-time pastor Fr. Jerome LeDoux, in recent decades St. Augustine’s incorporated the traditions of its community into services: jazz masses (appropriate since this is the home church of musicians ranging from the venerable—Sydney Bechet—to the up and coming—Troy and James Andrews), African kente cloth used in liturgical garments, Mardi Gras Indian chants worked into the liturgy, gospel choirs and more. St. Augustine’s also dedicated a shrine, “The Tomb of the Unknown Slave,” as a way to honor the sad roots of the neighborhood.

            Black Baptist churches are also a small but important part of the religious landscape in Catholic-dominated New Orleans. The city’s rich musical heritage has intimate links with its protestant churches, their large gospel choirs, and acceptance of instruments—horns, drums, pianos, guitars—traditionally associated with secular music. Mahalia Jackson, whose headstone in a Metairie cemetery reads “World’s Greatest Gospel Singer,” first sang publicly at The Plymouth Rock Baptist Church.[5] In the early part of the twentieth century, Buddy Bolden, one of New Orleans’ first jazz stars, played a regular gig at a venue that doubled as a Baptist church on Sundays[6]. In his acclaimed series Jazz, the documentary filmmaker Ken Burns claims that the roots of jazz lay in the music of the Baptist church and its “profane twin,” the blues, that came to New Orleans with black refugees from the Mississippi Delta.[7]

But the significance of religion in New Orleans is not limited to official, organized religions, even allowing for the city’s unique cultural spin on same, most significantly the misunderstood phenomena of voudou (as it is properly spelled). Lost among the kitsch of voodoo dolls and gawking tourists is a very real religion with a serious past and considerable cultural importance. Voudou’s roots can be traced in part back to the African Yoruba religion, which incorporates the worship of several different spiritual forces that include a supreme being, deities, and the spirits of ancestors. When Africans were kidnapped, enslaved, and brought to Brazil—and, ultimately, Haiti—beginning in the 1500s, they brought their religion with them.

By the 1700s, 30,000 slaves a year were brought to Haiti. Voudou began to emerge at this time as different African religions met and melded. Slaves were forced to convert to Catholicism, but they found it easy to practice both religions. Voudou gods were given saints’ names, and voudou worship more or less continued, appropriating certain Catholic rituals and beliefs.

Napoleonic law forced slave owners to give their slaves Sundays off and to provide them with a gathering place. Congo Square on Rampart Street, part of what is now Louis Armstrong Park, became the place for slaves to gather for voudou or drumming rituals. Voudou then was a way for slaves to have their own community and a certain amount of freedom. The religion emphasized knowledge of family and gave power to ancestors. Further, women were usually the powerful forces in voudou—priestesses ran matters more often than priests—and this appealed to women in a time when women simply didn’t have that kind of authority and power. The Congo Square gatherings ultimately became more like performance pieces, emphasizing drumming and music rather than religious rituals. Because of the square’s proximity to what became Storyville, legend has it that madams from the houses would come down to the Sunday gatherings and hire some of the performers to entertain at their houses, thus laying the groundwork for jazz. It is estimated that today as much as 15% of the population of New Orleans practices voudou.

            New Orleans' Spiritual churches are a unique combination of Roman Catholicism, Spiritualism, Pentecostalism, and voudou. The Spiritual churches honor God the Father, Jesus, and an array of saints, ancestors, and spirit guides--particularly the Native American chief Black Hawk--by whom worshipers become possessed and through whose power they heal and prophesy. Though the movement officially dates back to 1920, the components of the belief system were long in place in the rich demographics of New Orleans, from the Catholic downtown Creoles of color, to the downtown working class “American” blacks. The prevalence of voudou created an openness towards such magical workings, plus the Spiritual tradition, shared by voudou, of congregations led by female ministers and bishops.[8]

 

The Post-Katrina Role of Churches in New Orleans

 

Like most institutions in New Orleans, churches have suffered an immense loss of members and places to worship. Regardless of denomination, churches in the most flooded neighborhoods lie in shambles, abandoned, parishioners scattered across the country. In the weeks after Katrina, Fred Luter, pastor of one of the largest black Baptist congregations in the Upper Ninth Ward had heard from only 200 of his 8000 members.[9] A year later things are not much better numbers-wise. The tiny Spiritual churches will probably never recover—their congregations were so small to begin with—and so an entire original spiritual movement could die as a result of the disaster. St. Augustine’s, already in jeopardy thanks to diminishing church membership, was officially shut down some months after Katrina by the archdiocese, only to get an eighteen month reprieve after international press prompted a letter-writing campaign urging the Church to reconsider.

This is precisely the kind of lack of foresight that needs to be addressed. Given the role of St. Augustine has played throughout its history, but in particular in its last two decades, in its local community as a place of not only cultural preservation but vitalization, it can be a model for the possibilities offered by religious organizations, whether affiliated with a proper church structure or not. In a letter to St. Augustine supporters, the church’s pastoral council states, “Prior to Katrina, St. Augustine served as a vibrant community center. However, since Katrina, St. Augustine has blossomed into a critical community center, which includes a free food pantry, clothing and toy distribution center, and an information center”[10]. In another letter from the council dated February 17, 2006 it is stated, “With the help of international and national organizations and numerous volunteers, St. Augustine feeds approximately 100 families a day. In addition, people come there seeking medical supplies, grief support, and housing assistance”[11]. 

Given the history of outreach and aid associated with spiritual communities, this is a valuable resource for the rebuilding of New Orleans, one that symbiotically helps promote the recovery of the city while continuing and reviving its own traditions. Churches can be used for Town halls meetings without any violation of the separation of church and state; as the rebuilding process moves forward, it is vital to hold as many local forums as possible to allow for an exchange of views by all citizens.  Indeed, considering that faith communities remain the primary news source for so many, ensuring that a large portion of neighborhood meetings be hosted at places of worship is perhaps the only way to communicate vital news and decisions to a considerable segment of the population.

It’s especially pertinent now that, in some cases, a new spirit of camaraderie has emerged. Hopeview Baptist Church in St. Bernard Parish, a historically black church, has combined with Suburban Baptist Church in New Orleans East, a historically white church. “Before the storm, it was all chiefs looking out for individual entities;” said Jeffery Friend, pastor of Hopeview, “Now it's about Kingdom building rather than building our own individual kingdom.”[12]

Outside of New Orleans, many predominately African-American Baptist churches have decided to lend their support to rebuilding the churches hit hardest by Katrina. C.T. Vivian, an Atlanta pastor and one-time friend of Martin Luther King Jr., and New Orleans pastor Dwight Webster formed Churches Supporting Churches, which aims to assist 36 churches in New Orleans. CSC hopes to have ten individual churches across the nation lending “spiritual, financial, and technical assistance” to each one of the 36 New Orleans churches. Webster sees the revitalization of African-American churches as central to revitalizing neighborhoods. “We need to bring neighborhoods back, not just one church here and there,” Webster says. “We can do that if we get these 36 churches up.”[13]

Further, religious organizations are in a privileged position to seek often elusive funding. The Charitable Choice law, passed as part of the 1996 Welfare Reform Act, allowed overtly religious groups to compete for government grants to help welfare recipients. Until then, religious groups had to form secular affiliates, such as Catholic Charities or Lutheran Social Services, to apply for money.  The National Congregations Study, a 1998 report by University of Arizona sociologist Mark Chaves, found that 57% of congregations operate social service projects--but only 24% are aware of the charitable choice legislation.

Although faith-based charities are now eligible for funding, the field is fraught with controversy. Analysts, on both the left and the right, argue passionately about the benefits and problems of allowing faith-based charities to apply for funding and administer social service programs.[14]  There are concerns about tax-exemptions, proselytizing, hiring practices, and religious requirements as a condition of receiving services. The current administration states that they are committed to using faith-based organizations (FBOs) as a conduit to get funding to those in need, including New Orleans residents affected by Katrina.  The website of the White House Office of Faith-based and Community Initiatives (http://www.whitehouse.gov/government/fbci/grants.html) links viewers to the Federal Grants Process, with 200 grant-making programs in all areas of health and social services. Some New Orleans faith-based charities, such as Catholic Charities, have been providing services since long before the 1996 law and have established policies to address the thorny issues of separation of religious and community service programs.  The Archdiocese of New Orleans’ Catholic Charities helps victims of Hurricane Katrina through more than 35 programs.

Despite the widespread belief that FBOs were the most efficient and immediate respondents after the storm, there is still confusion about how funds can be channeled to those in need and the organizations that serve them.  A recent panel convened to analyze the role of FBOs in disaster relief pointed out the need for better coordination between government and faith-based groups in the future. Panelists described the field of disaster recovery as a competitive one, and that religious groups often find themselves pitted against FEMA for things like available hotel space. Fragmentation of disaster response services also leads to frustration in case management as different agencies use different case management software. [15]

Many small churches and FBOs have tried to get reimbursement for the cost of providing food, shelter, and services to Katrina victims, but have been lost in the maze of bureaucratic requirements that surround the funding.  A March 28, 2006, article reported that “Seven months after the Gulf Coast experienced a series of devastating hurricanes, faith-based and community organizations are beginning to receive federal help following delays in administrative processing and paperwork.  But for some faith leaders, the help is too little, too late. In recent weeks, many have called for more federal assistance, saying New Orleans still lies in ruin, and that faith-based organizations are being expected to carry a disproportionate burden of the relief services that are needed.  In Texas, Louisiana and Alabama government officials reported the program was fraught with snags as faith-based organizations struggled with complicated paperwork. In other cases, there were legal tangles over how federal money could be funneled to the local level.” [16]

FBOs are mostly small, grassroots groups of people, linked by a belief that they should put their spiritual beliefs into practice by helping those in need.  Together, these groups can play a major role in the recovery process for the city, but their efforts are diluted if each tries to work alone.  An effective, local coordinating council could significantly increase the return on their efforts by providing an infrastructure of support.

Many coordinating programs exist, but they are usually limited by denomination or other factors; for example, the above-mentioned Churches Supporting Churches (CSC) plans to assist 36 Baptist churches in the 12 hardest-hit areas. The National Council of Churches is acting as the group's fiduciary agent; and several denominations and ecumenical groups (including Mennonites, Church of the Brethren, the Baptist Peace Fellowship) have signed on.[17]

Another example of coordinated religious disaster response is provided by Church World Service, the relief, development, and refugee assistance ministry of 35 Protestant, Orthodox, and Anglican denominations in the United States.[18]  By July 28th, 2006, this agency has provided $2.6 million in grants, resources, and other assistance to people of the Gulf Coast, including ethnic communities like African American, Latino, Native American, and Vietnamese.

In order to coordinate all of the faith-based efforts in New Orleans, there needs to be a central site for gathering information, monitoring and assessing effectiveness of efforts already underway, and the creation of links between resources and those in need. 

The Archdiocese of New Orleans might seem to be a candidate to take on that role but PBS reported in April 2006 that it is financially ill-equipped to do so, operating at a monthly $1 million deficit, in addition to the $86 million gap between the cost of hurricane damage and what insurance will pay.[19]  This deficit has caused the Archdiocese to close many churches and combine the resulting small, homeless congregations into larger ones, often placing residents from heavily damaged neighborhoods at yet another disadvantage, depriving them of their familiar, neighborhood parish and requiring them to travel some distance (difficult if you have to rely on public transportation) to a new church. Many may choose not to attend at all, thus continuing to disenfranchise the disadvantaged and separate them from their traditional community and the aid that may now be possible.

 But pressure should be held on the Archdiocese of New Orleans not to withdraw support for St. Augustine’s (where seven months of its eighteen month reprieve have already elapsed), and which can be a model for community outreach and historical and cultural preservation. However, no bias should be shown to any particular denomination, nor against any spiritual movement based on lack of size and strength of following. It is important that help be available on an ecumenical basis, one that has an understanding of the rich and varied religious tradition in New Orleans, and the important cultural roles it has played in the city’s history. While some traditions may die out naturally (it may be too late to rescue the Spiritual movement), others may increase in strength; either way, these traditions developed organically and so should their next phase, without combating prejudice against forms that could be seen as less legitimate than others.

Reimbursement from the Federal government comes in many forms—spiritual, educational, cultural—and any faith-based organization is eligible to apply. All should have equal access to the information and help learning what is available. An overseeing body can help an interested group through the red tape to find the funding best suited for their needs. Such a group should be knowledgeable of the history of New Orleans and its culture, and be able to recognize a viable movement or church, and recognize its importance culturally, spiritually or in a community effort. This process will act as a natural filtering device, weeding out those who lack historical legitimacy or present-day commitment.

Perhaps the central coordinating role can best be undertaken by a non-religious organization, such as the Greater New Orleans Foundation, whose efforts would not be complicated by conflicting doctrinal priorities.  The Greater New Orleans Foundation has established the Rebuild New Orleans Fund, designated for the relief, recovery and betterment of the city.  This fund will focus on three principles:  creating an infrastructure of a community that works for everyone, rebuilding a New Orleans better than before Katrina, and honoring the social contract to involve the Greater New Orleans community in the process.  These philanthropic dollars will enable a broader voice to be heard during the restructuring process and will provide the best practices during the researching, planning and rebuilding progression. 

The Greater New Orleans Foundation contributed $1million to help establish the New Orleans Community Support Foundation (NOCSF) formed in June 2006 to create a comprehensive citywide infrastructure plan for the citizens of New Orleans. The plan, to be completed by year’s end, is endorsed by the Mayor of New Orleans, City Council, City Planning Commission, Regional Planning Commission, Louisiana Recovery Authority and U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development. The final citywide plan, encompassing all neighborhoods and planning districts, will be presented to the New Orleans City Planning Commission. It will then be submitted to the City Council and Mayor Nagin for approval. Ultimately, the plan will be submitted to the Louisiana Recovery Authority (LRA) as a guide to LRA’s investment of federal funds toward the strategic rebuilding of communities in Orleans Parish. Full information about the Greater New Orleans Foundation, the New Orleans Community Support Foundation, and the Rebuiold New Orleans Fund can be found at http://www.gnof.org

The Greater New Orleans Foundation is a key player in the recovery efforts already underway.   This positions the institution to become a knowledgeable, trusted, local, and unbiased coordinating agency for the faith community in New Orleans’ renewal.  Without the oversight of such a central institution, faith based organizations may not be able to fulfill their potentially critical role in the city’s recovery.

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Talking against Religion is unchaining a Tyger; the Beast let loose may worry his Deliverer. —Benjamin Franklin on Philosophy and Religion

             When Benjamin Franklin was carried to his grave “his casket was accompanied by all the clergymen of the city [of Philadelphia], every one of them, of every faith.”[1]  Franklin recognized early on that religious groups, now commonly defined as faith-based organizations (FBOs) serve as vital town-hall forums—key connections with united collectives of people who share common beliefs.
                    “There were Lutherans and Moravians and Quakers and even Jews, as well as Calvinists, living side by side in what became known as the City of Brotherly Love. Franklin helped formulate the creed that they would all be better off, personally and economically, if they embraced an attitude of tolerance. Franklin believed in God and in the social usefulness of religion, but he did not subscribe to any particular sectarian doctrine. This led him to help raise money to build a new hall in Philadelphia that was, as he put it, ‘expressly for the use of any preacher of any religious persuasion who might desire to say something.’ He added, ‘Even if the Mufti of Constantinople were to send a missionary to preach Mohammedanism to us, he would find a pulpit at his service.’”[2]            In looking to the rebuilding of New Orleans, religious institutions are a resource that should not be ignored. Religion, after all, played a large role in the development of the city in the first place. The city was originally settled by the French and Spanish, with the help of the Ursuline nuns who offered medical and other aid to early settlers, with the result that the city was shaped by Catholicism from the onset. Even the physical design of the city was effected by the Church; St. Louis Cathedral, the seat of the New Orleans archdiocese, anchors Jackson Square, the middle of the French Quarter, the original city itself and still the heart of the place today. Later immigration influxes of Irish and Italians only solidified the cultural leaning, bringing in their own annual St. Patrick and St. Joseph’s Day traditions. The significance of religion to the city today is rarely considered, thanks to its global identification as a center for decadence, but one need not look any further than the flashpoint of said decadence, Mardi Gras, to see the influence. The last day before the commencement of Lent, Mardi Gras, or “Fat Tuesday,” is celebrated by “carnival,” which roughly translates as “farewell to the flesh.” It’s the last blow out before the season of Lenten deprivation and piety. Mardi Gras’ current image of a giant frat party/spring break extension fails to include Ash Wednesday, when a notably large segment of the city’s population bears ashes on their (probably hungover) foreheads.

            One of the most historic and notable active Catholic churches is St. Augustine’s in the Treme, a living community of integrated worship. In the 1830’s permission was given to free people of color to build the church and the church was dedicated in 1842[3]. The web site for the church states,

          A few months before the October 9, 1842 dedication of St. Augustine Church, the people of color began to purchase pews for their families to sit. Upon hearing of this, white people in the area started a campaign to buy more pews than the colored folks. Thus, The War of the Pews began and was ultimately won by the free people of color who bought three pews to every one purchased by the whites. In an unprecedented social, political and religious move, the colored members also bought all the pews of both side aisles. They gave those pews to the slaves as their exclusive place of worship, a first in the history of slavery in the United States.
         This mix of the pews resulted in the most integrated congregation in the entire country: one large row of free people of color, one large row of whites with a smattering of ethnics, and two outer aisles of slaves. Except for a brief six-month period when its sanctuary was enlarged and blessed in time for Christmas 1925, St. Augustine Church has been in continuous use as a place of worship until the present time[4].

            Under the direction of long-time pastor Fr. Jerome LeDoux, in recent decades St. Augustine’s incorporated the traditions of its community into services: jazz masses (appropriate since this is the home church of musicians ranging from the venerable—Sydney Bechet—to the up and coming—Troy and James Andrews), African kente cloth used in liturgical garments, Mardi Gras Indian chants worked into the liturgy, gospel choirs and more. St. Augustine’s also dedicated a shrine, “The Tomb of the Unknown Slave,” as a way to honor the sad roots of the neighborhood.

            Black Baptist churches are also a small but important part of the religious landscape in Catholic-dominated New Orleans. The city’s rich musical heritage has intimate links with its protestant churches, their large gospel choirs, and acceptance of instruments—horns, drums, pianos, guitars—traditionally associated with secular music. Mahalia Jackson, whose headstone in a Metairie cemetery reads “World’s Greatest Gospel Singer,” first sang publicly at The Plymouth Rock Baptist Church.[5] In the early part of the twentieth century, Buddy Bolden, one of New Orleans’ first jazz stars, played a regular gig at a venue that doubled as a Baptist church on Sundays[6]. In his acclaimed series Jazz, the documentary filmmaker Ken Burns claims that the roots of jazz lay in the music of the Baptist church and its “profane twin,” the blues, that came to New Orleans with black refugees from the Mississippi Delta.[7]

But the significance of religion in New Orleans is not limited to official, organized religions, even allowing for the city’s unique cultural spin on same, most significantly the misunderstood phenomena of voudou (as it is properly spelled). Lost among the kitsch of voodoo dolls and gawking tourists is a very real religion with a serious past and considerable cultural importance. Voudou’s roots can be traced in part back to the African Yoruba religion, which incorporates the worship of several different spiritual forces that include a supreme being, deities, and the spirits of ancestors. When Africans were kidnapped, enslaved, and brought to Brazil—and, ultimately, Haiti—beginning in the 1500s, they brought their religion with them.

By the 1700s, 30,000 slaves a year were brought to Haiti. Voudou began to emerge at this time as different African religions met and melded. Slaves were forced to convert to Catholicism, but they found it easy to practice both religions. Voudou gods were given saints’ names, and voudou worship more or less continued, appropriating certain Catholic rituals and beliefs.

Napoleonic law forced slave owners to give their slaves Sundays off and to provide them with a gathering place. Congo Square on Rampart Street, part of what is now Louis Armstrong Park, became the place for slaves to gather for voudou or drumming rituals. Voudou then was a way for slaves to have their own community and a certain amount of freedom. The religion emphasized knowledge of family and gave power to ancestors. Further, women were usually the powerful forces in voudou—priestesses ran matters more often than priests—and this appealed to women in a time when women simply didn’t have that kind of authority and power. The Congo Square gatherings ultimately became more like performance pieces, emphasizing drumming and music rather than religious rituals. Because of the square’s proximity to what became Storyville, legend has it that