Today, global conflicts, rooted in economics, oftentimes assume sharp religious overtones. Inter-religious conflicts stem from real or perceived discrimination of one sect by another. Freedom of religious expression, which many now take for granted, is sometimes only attainable after plodding through legal minefields, and worse. That many have been tortured or died because of their faith remains a stain on the collective conscience.
How fortuitous that our nation stands as a harbinger of wholesome possibilities. The repeal of the 1917 Spiritual Baptist Prohibition Ordinance in 1951 and the subsequent recognition of the Spiritual Baptist movement in the form of a national holiday is an exemplary development. But this is a chapter well explored by sociologists and histo- rians, and there is little compulsion here to elaborate.
There is an area, though, worthy of mention, if only to understand the constitution of a group, once maligned, ridiculed, and shunned, yet capable of reinventing itself not only in the place of its origins but in a distant land. Faith and the mechanics of prayer is that area.
On the eve of Spiritual Baptist Liberation Day, I am moved to recall my year-long study of the Baptist faithful in New York. Faith can take on unswerving importance for immigrants. A distant land presents untold challenges that demand flexibility and adaptation. Challenges are manifold, creating "Job-like" scenarios.
For sure, in times of adversity, one's purported faith is ever on the line. Unemployment, shrinking cheques, housing and health problems, compounded by a questionable immigration standing, can rattle the patience of the steadfast. But, as a people steeped in faith, West Indians carry their religious beliefs in their bosom, well tucked away. It is their rope, their very lifeline. Especially the Spiritual Baptists. There is an interesting saying that there are more Jews in New York than in Israel. Borrowing from this quip, I can judiciously state that there are more Spiritual Baptists in New York than in Trinidad. Hyperbole or not, the "Baptist" presence is overwhelming.
It is in these dire times that West Indians of every ethnicity, race, religion and class solicit the counsel of spiritual mothers. Spiritual supply and herbal stores owned by the Baptist faithful, churches (many functioning in basements of houses) and healers comprise a unique mosaic of spiritual life in Brooklyn. Not many religions can boast of such resourcefulness, blending the secular and the sacred with uncanny ease.
It is poignantly clear that faith, an unshakable belief in the efficacy of prayer, explains the spirito-cultural mindset of the unique group. When we start (praying), for whatever reason, we don't give up. You know how we are." This is how a faithful so aptly described this tena-city. It is this unabashed and assertive prayerfulness-exhilarating and seemingly unending-that distinguishes the Spiritual Baptist.
But the prayerful character of the Spiritual Baptist is only understandable with some insight into its hallmark and signature act of mourning. Unfortunately, there is still too much misinformation about the practice. Mourning is characterised by the austerity and self-abnegation of the spiritual aspirant.
It is during this seven-day period that wondrous "gifts" can be bestowed. Many "graduate" with titles such as captain, pointer, teacher, bishop, moth-er, stargazer etc, which are no more than particular faculties "activated" on the so-called mourning ground.
As an institutionalised practice, mourning removes the "spiritual patent" from the sacerdotal class, allowing everyone to be a potential "leader" if only they would knock on that proverbial door. This is a notable and revolutionary practice absent in most religions, and ensures the perpetuity of this movement.
Interestingly, this practice-mirrored by North American convulsionaries, Opus Dei, and monastics of other faiths-is respected, but in the case of Spiritual Baptists, "dreaded." Here, I am reminded of Ralph Waldo Emerson's famous quote: "Fear always springs from ignorance."
Throughout my work, I heard cautionary tales of the mourning ground. As a young man in Trini-dad, such stories took on near Harry Potter-like dimensions. This is hardly surprising. There is always an audience for the fantastical mind bent on pedalling corrugated truths.
At the end of my journey through Brooklyn, mourning was demystified, and not to be feared or avoided, but embraced. Notably, mourning takes on special meaning in New York, with many alluding to the "seclusion" and "depth" of basements (where the practice takes place), as "enhancing the overall experience." They are convinced that mourning has eased, if not conquered, the unique problems facing many immigrants.
That one's experience on the mourning ground is unique and personal is irrefutable. That said, the benefits are immeasurable. Overall, many are able to discern situations through a new set of lenses. But these so-called "supernatural" occurrences are easily explainable.
Withdrawal from the incessant babble and preoccupation with life's demands provides that quietude-that stillness that opens new vistas hitherto experienced. The axioms "Silence is golden," the "Kingdom of God is within," and "Know thyself" assume existential properties when spiritually applied. According to history's most impressive figure, Helen Keller, "We discover in ourselves many undevel- oped resources of will and thought."
The Spiritual Baptists I met all contended that mourning requires maturity, intention, and abstinence from negative and self-serving thoughts. Now, in this age of mass stimuli, many are more disconnected from the subconscious-that reservoir of limitless knowledge.
Mourning facilitates this connection, stripping away the indulgences that enslave the ego, as it brings the aspirant closer to self-mastery. Well applied, it empowers, engendering a sense of certitude and impregnable resolve that will weather life's unforgiving twists and turns.
This is the enduring philosophy of the thousands of New Yorkers who proudly call themselves Spiritual Baptists. The Spiritual Baptist faith has not only survived and flourished under political brutality and allegations of unconscionable deeds aimed at sullying its image. Religious cross-pollination or syncretisation has also blurred its religious identity. The term "Shango Baptist" reflects that much.
But it has persevered, attracting second and third generation Trini-dadians and Tobagonians in New York. I can only marvel at its durability, indefatigable resilience, and inexhaustible resourcefulness, ever mindful of these often cited words of the faithful: "Therefore also now saith the Lord, turn ye even to me with all your heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, and with mourning: And rend your heart, and not your garments" (Joel 2- 12:13).
• Dr Glenville Ashby is the New York correspondent for the Guardian and author of the new book The Believers: The Hidden World of West Indian Spiritualism in New York