New Life in Old Roxbury

A Mid-Atlantic Conference superintendent visits our congregation of African immigrants in the Boston area.

Anthony L. Blair

October 19, 2001

It is the clapping that did me in. Until now, I had been following along, catching the lyrics as best I could, even clumsily swaying with the music. But Sister Peace, the songleader, is now clapping in a rhythm that I can analyze but can't perform, much like an observer at a billiards game who can see exactly what shot needs to be made but hasn't mastered the stick well enough to make the shot himself.

One clap on the upbeat. Pause. One clap on the downbeat. Longer pause. Then repeat. I struggle futilely for a while and then give up, patting my hand against my leg in a rhythm all my own, concentrating on the lyrics, and hoping no one notices that I am bereft of manual coordination.

They notice. I am the only white person in a congregation of West Africans. More than that, I am the conference superintendent, here on an "official visit" to the New Life United African Church, a church planting project of the Mid-Atlantic Conference. We are in the Roxbury borough of Boston, Massachusetts, holding worship in the basement of a small, old, white clapboard building owned by the Unitarian Universalist Association.

The room is small. But so is the congregation. By my count, 32 people have come on this day, and that constitutes quite a large crowd for New Life. Ministry in Boston is difficult. Despite its Puritan heritage, it is one of the most secular cities in the world. It is also highly multicultural. Not too far from us are Quincy and Braintree, home of two presidents named Adams. Quincy, I am told, is now 70 percent Chinese.

Roxbury is populated by a multitude of ethnic groups, including West Indians, all manner of Hispanics, and quite a few Africans: Ethiopians, Zairians, Nigerians, Ivoirians (from Cote d'Ivoire, formerly the Ivory Coast), and, of course, Sierra Leoneans. These groups tend to be much more religious than the white community, but quite often that religion is Islam. There are two other predominantly Sierra Leonean congregations in the area, but they incorporate Muslim elements (including the al-fatya, the creed) in their worship ceremonies with an ease that makes our evangelical brethren uncomfortable.

New Life's role in this town, then, is to proclaim the clear and undiluted message of the Gospel. That's a challenge they are equipped to meet. Rev. Osman Mansaray, who is Sierra Leonean, is finishing his second masters degree at Gordon-Conwell and plans to begin a doctorate in systematic theology next year.

His wife, Bella, grew up a Muslim in Cote d'Ivoire in the household of the village iman. When she converted, he renounced her as his daughter. Bella knows the blessings and the cots of being a disciple. She has a Bible college degree and works nights as a mental health therapist. Michael, age 7, and Matthew, 5, are delightful, bouncy, energetic, smiling young men who complete this pious, thoughtful family. They receive no money for their ministry and, from all appearances, spend much of their own on it.

The music is over and, thank God, the clapping has ceased. Rev. Billy Simbo, Mid-Atlantic Conference District Elder and church planter, is the guest preacher today. "Pa" Simbo preaches with enthusiasm and power, usually in English but occasionally in Creole. He is very good. As he preaches, I reflect on the service simultaneously taking place in the "big church" next door.

We are on sacred ground, that of the First Church of Roxbury, one of the earliest congregations in America. In the early 1640s it was led by John Eliot, the "Apostle to the Indians" who here, on this ground, received his vision to share the gospel with the native inhabitants of Massachusetts. He is now celebrated by church historians as a tremendous servant of God. There's a portrait of him on the back wall of the big church, along with a plaque commemorating his accomplishments as missionary and Bible translator.

We are here now, 370 years later, preaching roughly the same message, worshipping the same God. And just yards away are the Unitarians, proclaiming a message that, if true, would mean that all of Eliot's efforts, all of Brother Mansaray's sacrifices, all of Rev. Simbo's preaching, all of what we are and do as United Brethren, are in vain.

They are not in vain. When the service is over, we meet with the leaders of the congregation. "How can you help us?" they ask. I feel awkward now. I remind them of Peter and John's encounter with a blind beggar outside of the temple in Jerusalem. "I don't have any money for you, but I'll give you what I have." We give them encouragement, ideas, affirmation, our blessing. They take those gifts gratefully and commit themselves afresh to their pastor and to this small ministry. Sister Mansaray leaves with tears in her eyes and a new smile on her face. God is good.

New Life United African is a small but powerful voice in a whirling maelstrom of ethnicities, ideas, and ways of life. They truly do offer new life in an old city that has forgotten the Way. They will need some help from time to time, but they will be okay. The Spirit of God is here.

As for me, I really must learn to clap.