Faces of faith in the VI

Faith sounds louder here on the weekends. It starts with the roll of the Seventh-day Adventist Church drums by the Festival Grounds that can be seen by cruise ships coming into the harbour. It’s in the Christian rock tunes of an electric guitar played by a government spokeswoman at the Church of the Islands, or in the voice of that church’s leader who felt a calling in South Africa and moved here. Or in the call to prayer at the BVI Islamic Centre and the kneeling of the former attorney general on a rug every Friday facing the direction of the holy city of Mecca. You’ll hear the same procession of faith in songs and hymns that bounce off the walls of the St. George’s Episcopal Church, the New Life Baptist Church or the Hindi temple in Sea Cows Bay on Sunday.

Faith moves young Mormon volunteers to travel long distances to share their words with only a Bible in hand, and Rastafarians to grow out their hair and keep a strict diet and a way of life.

There are few places where faith is so evident as in the Virgin Islands. In 24 square miles, there are so many churches, temples, and other houses of worship that it’s hard to keep track of them. According to 2007 Department Planning Unit statistics, 92 percent of the VI population is affiliated with a religion or a denomination.

It would take us years to cover all the churches and beliefs here. But through this special series, which begins today, we attempt to cover a representative sample. Sometimes we made our choice based on the large size of a particular congregation. Other times we selected a temple or church because it seemed less conventional and of interest to our readers. Through several weeks of prayer, as well as text, photography and video, The Beacon recorded a journey of faith in the VI.

See the full text of this introduction in the Jan. 24 issue of The BVI Beacon.

Erminie George, one of three women who will be ordained deacon in June, administers the chalice to choir members. (Photo: Luis Andres Henao)

An Episcopal Easter

Easter is the holiest day of the year for Christians, who commemorated the death of Jesus Christ on Good Friday recently and celebrated his resurrection. At St. George’s Episcopal Church in Road Town, more than 400 parishioners and visitors fill the pews. Fr. Ronald Branche, St. George’s parish priest, reads the Gospel and other scripture, and preaches about the importance of the day in Christian history. “The core of Easter is that Jesus has overcome death and this guarantees that we shall also overcome the grave,” Fr. Branche tells the congregation. “When we talk about Easter, we talk about new hope, new life. … As we go forward, let us remove the stones of our lives.

Fr. Branche arrived from Trinidad and Tobago nearly six years ago. The parish priest before him, Canon Julian Maurice Clarke, was someone who spent his first Easter service at this church.

Growing up, Canon Clarke wanted to become a carpenter but the church was always close to him. At the age of five, he was enrolled in the St. George’s School on Road Town’s Main Street, and attended services at the then-St. George’s Anglican Church next to it. There, he served in every post from acolyte, starting while in Sunday School, to lay reader and member of the vestry.

By then a civil servant, Fr. Clarke’s career focus eventually moved from carpentry to law, and he served as clerk of the High Court and in several government jobs. But the priestly calling grew. In 1969, after studying three years in seminary in Carolina, Puerto Rico, Fr. Clarke came back for his ordination as deacon at the same church, now St. George’s Episcopal Church, where he attended and was spiritually nurtured as a young boy.

“I became the pastor of the church where I grew up,” Fr. Clarke says. It was my spiritual home. … I have been serving the [Episcopal] church as an ordained clergyman since 1969, but I have been involved with the church in one way or another since I knew myself,” he says, adding with a smile that he retired in 1999 but is still working.

Read the full story in the April 3, 2008 issue.

The East End Methodist Church is the oldest Methodist church in the territory. Members of the church’s Men’s Ministry sing a hymn during a Sunday service. (Photos: Luis Andres Henao)

VI’s Methodist roots reach deep

All doors and windows are wide open at the oldest Methodist church in the Virgin Islands. Since its construction in 1810, the building has withstood hurricanes and earthquakes; its 16-inch brick walls have hosted countless harvest festivals, confirmations, school classes, and baptisms. During Wednesday weddings on the old site of the Willard Wheatley School, students would be dismissed from classes to watch the nuptials.

At a recent Sunday service dozens of followers sit on long wooden benches to listen to the words of Reverend Arlene Bruce, one of three ordained female ministers in the territory. Among the crowd is Aurie Lettsome, a senior public library assistant who was christened just a few feet from where she is sitting. Ms. Lettsome has been attending the East End Methodist Church since birth.

Methodism started in the territory in Feb. 17, 1789, when missionaries “Dr. Thomas Coke and William Hammet arrived in Tortola and started bringing the End End/Long Look community and communities of other islands to a small wooden building that later became the East End Methodist Church, on a gift of land donated by Miriam Vanterpool of Beef Island,” according to a booklet commemorating the Church’s 175th anniversary. “At one point it was the only religion in the BVI,” Rev. Bruce says. “We’ve lost some followers with the start of other denominations.”

It is still the largest denomination in the territory, with 6,283 followers worshipping in 13 congregations throughout the territory wide, according to the Development Planning Unit. One of the oldest followers is Cecil Georges of Road Town, who at 101, still plays Methodist hymns on his piano, and receives a Methodist minister at his home once a month.

Read the full story in the March 20, 2008 issue.

Members of the Seventh-day Adventist choir sing during a service. (Photos: Luis Andres Henao)

Seventh-day Adventists stress service

The church is divided into two floors for a reason. Outside the pink wooden doors of the Seventh-day Adventist Church in Road Town, more than 70 children in small white dresses with ribbons and pressed shirts and ties line up for the start of the Sabbath school. Their parents walk upstairs and fill the rows of pews inside the church in preparation for the Saturday service.

“We preach the Gospel in many ways. We cater from the cradle roll to the grave,” William Rudder, the First Elder of the Road Town church for the last 14 years, says.

With 2316 followers locally, the Seventh day-Adventist Church is the fifth largest religious denomination in the territory. The name comes from the observance of the Biblical Sabbath on Saturday, the seventh day of the week, and the day that, according to the Bible, God rested after completing creation.

The ministry is also based on a hands-on approach to the Gospel through community service. “It is about reaching the needy, feeding the hungry, and visiting the sick,” Elder Rudder says, adding that the church has a hospital visitation team that goes to Peebles after the Saturday service. “We go out on a daily basis, taking the literature of the Bible to households. We have a radio show. We are Seventh-day Adventists because we believe in the whole Ten Commandments.”

The Road Town church is one of nine Seventh-day Adventist churches in the territory: Seven are on Tortola, and Virgin Gorda and Jost Van Dyke each have another. A handful of followers live on Anegada.

Read the full story in the March 13, 2008 issue.

Bishop Ishmael Charles leads the Church of God congregation. (Photo: Luis Andres Henao)

A ‘common bond’

It’s called the International Worship Centre and at any time more than 20 flags will wave outside its parking lot. “Every one of those flags represents a nationality in our congregation,” says Casilda “Girlette” Glasgow, who is originally from St. Kitts and who worshipped at the New Testament Church of God tabernacle started in Purcell Estate in 1970 and that moved to Baughers Bay in 2003 and became the New Testament Church of God.

On a recent Sunday, Ms. Glasgow was joined by hundreds of followers wearing dark business suits, wide hats and colourful African robes.

“What draws them in?” Bishop Ishmael Charles, who leads this congregation, asks, thinking for a moment before answering: “The common bond of fellowship. People feel: ‘I’m accepted and loved and I can come to a place where I’m not pushed aside.’ … Because we’re so diverse — we have the coming together of the Caribbean and international Diaspora — the coming together of our cultures with one cause: To honour God.”

Some of the members of this Diaspora have been attending services at the Church of God for more than 30 years.

Joyce Rhymer remembers the first day she stepped into the church at Purcell Estate. “Wednesday, Feb 16, 1966. I’ll never forget that day because it was the best day of my life,” Ms. Rhymer said after last Sunday’s service at Baughers Bay. “ I’m 71 and every time I come it’s still the best day of my life.”

Today the service commemorates the 60th anniversary of the University of the West Indies. Bishop Charles sits in chair near Premier Ralph O’Neal, Opposition Leader Dr. Orlando Smith, other government ministers and UWI Vice Chancellor Nigel E. Harris.

The church is a member of an alliance of churches based in the US state of Tennessee that places strong emphasis on education. Lee University in Cleveland, TN, — the Church of God's oldest and largest educational institution — has more than 3,500 students. And the church also has educational centres in nations including South Korea, Canada and Germany.

Read the full story in the March 6, 2008 issue.

Father Larry Finnegan of the St. Ursula Roman Catholic Church in Virgin Gorda said mass and sang with followers during a mass and spiritual retreat at St. William’s. Fr. Finnegan, has also served as a missionary in Kenya and several Caribbean islands. (Photos: Luis Andres Henao)

‘Take off your sandals’

Followers cross the threshold into the St. Williams’ Roman Catholic Church, dipping their right hand in a stone tub of Holy Water. Sitting there with the rest of the group are two ordained men. Father Larry Finnegan, the priest of Virgin Gorda’s St. Ursula Catholic Church kneels down on one leg, stands up and crosses himself, eyes fixed on a wooden cross on the altar. From the last wooden bench, Father Nihal Abeyasingha, a retired Sri Lankan University professor of Christian culture, listens to the start of his service.

It’s Wednesday, and today Fr. Finnegan will lead the service and a spiritual retreat of music and prayer. After listening to some announcements enters a door next to the altar and returns clad in priestly vestments. His message is clear: Respect for others despite their differences, forgiveness, and redemption through service. Fa-miliar words to this Irish priest, who was ordained more than 40 years ago, and learnt Swahili to communicate with tribesmen and teach them how to build mud houses and pit latrines in Kenya.

Words that also ring true for Fr. Nihal, the priest of this congregation, who says mass in Spanish on Sunday nights to facilitate Latin American construction workers, lawyers, and teachers, among others who want to worship in their native tongue.

One of them is Sandro Contreras, a Dominican construction worker who first came to St. William’s to pray for a colleague injured during the construction of the new Peebles Hospital in Road Town.  “We came one by one, and today we are 15,” he said pointing to other Dominican workers who were starting to leave the church talking in Spanish after the Sunday service. “Being Catholic is something that we carry deep inside ourselves. It’s in our blood. We believe in God very much. It’s infinite faith,” said Mr. Contreras.

Read the full story in the Feb. 28, 2008 issue.

Members of the Tortola Rastafarian community frequently meet to share a vegetarian meal at the Mellow Moods Cafe in Road Town, (l-r) Haslam Lima, Ras Amdi and son Ayende, Imo Thomas and Bertrand Lettsome. (Photos: Luis Andres Henao)

Rasta — a ‘way of life’

For 23 years it was illegal to enter the territory if you were a Rastafarian. In 1980, legislation introduced by now Premier Ralph O’Neal ordered immigration authorities to refuse entry to any Rastas or hippies who wore dreadlocks.

The so-called "Rasta Law" was enacted as a response to a spike in crime in the territory. But the law was strongly criticised by many — including this newspaper — who saw it  as a discriminatory measure that needed to be repealed.

"We fought against it to have it removed," Halstead Lima said last week, sporting his uncut beard and dark grey locks dyed by the sun. "It was a difficult time. It contributed to a lot of misconceptions that we have in this country now. We [Rastas] weren’t able to develop like places like Jamaica in an organised way. We were cut off in terms of information and ideas. But it turned out to be a good thing because we had to develop on our own. As a result, you have something rooted more deeply." During his eight years as Chief Minister Ralph O’Neal — who first introduced the law as a legislator —refused to repeal it. Then, in 2003, after years of unanswered protests and petitions by Rasta organisations like the Rasta Turtle Dove Deliverance, and much regional and international ridicule, the law was repealed after the NDP took office.

Bertrand Lettsome, a former member of the organisation who has grown his locks for 20 years straight this August, said the attitude towards Rastas had improved since the Rasta Law was repealed. "We showed that it was a violation of human rights," Mr. Lettsome said. "Right now you have Rastas everywhere: You have heads of department, technical administrators, you see Rastas on the electricity corporation, on the radio and in the banks."

The group does not have a hierarchy or a leader. Their services are informal and their doctrine is spread by word of mouth, Mr. Lima said. Sometimes they will meet at Mr. Lettsome’s Paraquita Bay farm, and during a recent retreat they met a Sage Mountain.

See full story in the Feb. 21, 2008 issue.

Elder Jacob Jorgensen and Elder Joshua Roberts greet a follower of the Mormon church on the road. (Photo: Luis Andres Henao)

The Word on the street

At 19, Elder Jacob Jorgensen and Elder Joshua Roberts look their age, but they insist on being called elders. The title in the Mormon priesthood, gives them authority to preach the Gospel like the 50,000 other volunteer missionaries who walk the world’s streets in pairs teaching about the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints.

The Elders’ decision was made long before they reached adolescence. It could have been Russia or Australia, but by chance or destiny, today they walk the streets of Road Town carrying the Book of Mormon in hand.

Their day begins at 6:30 a.m. with prayer followed by three hours to study the message of the church and plan out their “street contact” teachings. They follow a strict schedule determined by the missionary handbook.

Among the rules: They can’t watch TV, drink alcohol, go to the beach, listen to the radio, or use the Internet, except to communicate with their families.

But to them, it’s not about what they are forbidden to do during their missionary work.

“We’re not supposed to be worried about the things of the world,” Elder Roberts says, taking a copy of the missionary handbook out of his shirt pocket. “We give these two years to God and we can’t be distracted. … You just know, it’s not ‘I believe,’ it’s ‘I know.’”

The Elders, in white pressed shirts with black nametags and neat red ties, approach two young women across the street. “Hello, we’re members of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints. Have you read this book before?” Elder Roberts asks them, holding out a blue copy of The Book of Mormon. “To be honest, we live in Virgin Gorda,” Anna Hyppolite, a humanities student at the H. Lavity Stoutt Community College, says, smiling. Elder Jorgensen quickly cuts in: “They have a church in Virgin Gorda, by the police station. The service is at 2:30 p.m. Sunday.”

Read the full story in the Feb. 14, 2008 issue.

More than 500 members of the New Life Baptist Church pray during a at Sunday service. (Photos: Luis Andres Henao)

Making a ‘joyful noise’

At 10:45 on a Sunday, hundreds of people stream from their cars through the wide wooden doors of the New Life Baptist Church for the morning service. At the entrance, an usher shakes men’s hands and hugs ladies, many in wide hats. But, the “joyful noise” greets you as soon as you walk through the wide doors.

Inside, it looks like a modern concert hall, with 500 seats that fill up so quickly, that by 11:15, ushers start bringing in extra chairs. Television cameras set up on every corner record the service that will be aired on a local channel. The lyrics of the songs, and the Biblical verses, appear simultaneously on a large video screen above a white stage.

On a recent Sunday, one read like this:

“O come, let us sing unto the LORD: let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation. PSALM 95:1”

That morning, the rock of salvation, the joyful noise, came from dozens of voices of a recording choir that has performed throughout the Caribbean and the United States. The NLB Choir has become so popular that it sells its CD on the Internet and has its own Myspace page. Next to them, sharing the stage, the band, organ and drums lead the congregations in songs of praise like: “Everlasting Portion,” and “Blow the Trumpet.”

Bishop John I. Cline, the NLB church leader, walks out holding a microphone to cheers from the congregation. Bishop Cline's sermons are based on practical, everyday lessons on how to lead a better life that often sound more like advice from Oprah Winfrey or Dr. Phil McGraw than from a Baptist preacher. His medium of delivery is also different. He calls it “the Ipod delivery.”

“Even though the message is old, the medium of delivery is new,” Bishop Cline says, giving an example of a song played on a cassette and a song played on an Ipod. “It sounds so much better,” he says. So what is his church’s Ipod?

“I think the Ipod delivery is dance, it’s drama, it’s music. It’s a celebration,” he says. “People are visually driven these days and you have to use the images to your advantage.”

Read the full story in the Feb. 7, 2008 issue.

Worshippers at the Church of the Islands raise their hands following a hymn played on the electric guitar and drums. (Photo: Luis Andres Henao)

‘You got to have fun’

Jaco Maree led a church in every African nation “South of Sudan” before he felt a calling. “We just felt God called us to plant a church in the Caribbean,” Mr. Maree said about his 2001 revelation. He was unclear where it should be located, so he “prayed for 18 months.” One day it came to him: “We had never even heard about Tortola before,” he said about his decision to “pack four bags” and take a plane from his native South Africa to the Virgin Islands with his wife and two children.

At first, “It was a congregation of two,” Mr. Maree said referring to his first days living in the island with his wife. But before he even started speaking about religion, he focused on reaching out to the community. Instead, he went out fishing and using his knowledge of carpentry, he made furniture for others. “I didn’t speak religion to anybody; we became friends, and started speaking about God,” he said. “You don’t want to say: ‘Here, read this or you’ll go to hell.’”

The group grew. The first services were held in a Carrot Bay garage. It was “just a group of friends talking,” wanting to bond through a more “personal relationship with God.” Because “once people connect with God,” he said, snapping his fingers, “that’s it.”

Seven years later, The Church of the Islands has outgrown the garage to reach more than 100 members. And yet, the message remains the same: “It’s more of a relational church,” Mr. Maree said after a recent service inside an elegant two-storey building on Waterfront Drive that now houses the church. “In the Bible the church is called a body; not a building. It’s a group of friends. And you got to have fun. Especially with God.”

Read the full story in the Jan. 31, 2008 issue.

Members of the BVI Islamic Centre kneel down for the Jumu’ah, the Muslim Friday prayer. (Photo: Luis Andres Henao)

Islam through Ali

Ali Tarabay greets customers coming into his Waterfront Drive shop. A woman with two children hugs him; a young one comes in and kisses him on the cheek. Conversation draws on for several minutes. He then politely interrupts: “Excuse me my good people, I have to wash my face; my hands,” he says rubbing his palms together. It’s 11:45 a.m., and Ali gets ready for the Jumu'ah, the Muslim Friday prayer.  He comes back from the restroom looking fresh but focused on one thing only: Praising Allah.

Five times a day, Ali will excuse himself from any activity, conversation or sale to kneel down and pray to God in the direction of the holy city of Mecca.

On Friday, however, he joins others in the pilgrimage. When he steps out of his store, he looks at the sky, and paces himself in the short steps that make a one-block trip to the green, wooden structure behind his shop a journey. Ali opens a metal gate and men pass by him going up through a narrow staircase. One by one, they take off their shoes at the entrance. Ali takes his time and walks in last: “slowly, slowly,” he says in Spanish, with the cadence of an Arab speaker in one of the five languages he has taught himself in his 70 years of life.  He then explains the custom: “We take off our shoes because in the Bible God tells Abraham: ‘take off your sandals and kneel before me.’”

Inside, prayer beads hang from walls painted with Arabic calligraphy. At the end of the room, two children sit with their legs crossed on the back next to their father. Everyone waits for the cue that comes when Ali Asaid, the leader of the BVI Islamic Centre walks in wearing green robes and a burgundy skullcap and grabs a microphone. “Allah u Ahkbar!” he sings in the first words of the Muslim call to prayer, the one that starts every Sura, every chapter of the Qur'an, Islam’s holy book.

This time, Ali reacts on impulse and kneels down, pressing his forehead against the floor in a sign of total reverence to the Almighty.

Read the full story in the Jan. 24, 2008 issue.