By Michelle Boorstein
Washington Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
The president of the Missionary Baptist Ministers Conference of Washington decided this summer for the first time in the century-old group's history to take a partisan political stand, announcing his endorsement of a mayoral candidate.
The city's largest interfaith group says it has more volunteers registering people to vote than it has had in 15 years.
In June, religious leaders held a conference to pull together a common agenda for the city's future.
Such preelection organizing has been ratcheted up in the city's religious community in an effort to regain something it once had in abundance: political clout.
After years of feeling ignored on issues including parking near churches, the closing of D.C. General Hospital and the construction of a new baseball stadium, faith leaders say they want their voices back.
But even as religion becomes a bigger player in national politics, D.C. ministers, former city officials and religious activists say the opposite has been true in the nation's capital, where the majority of houses of worship are black churches. The trend is striking in a city that during the 1970s picked a minister to be its first representative to Congress and elected two ministers to its first city council.
But today, mayoral candidates skip key church-organized rallies. Ministers say it's easier to get a building permit for a bar than for a church. And a mayoral candidate recently told the Rev. Anthony Motley, president of the Council of Churches of Greater Washington, that same-sex marriage "isn't a church issue."
Explanations for the trend vary: Houses of worship and their voting congregations are moving to the suburbs, advocacy groups are maturing and there is a perceived cultural clash between clergy and Mayor Anthony A. Williams (D).
"What it boils down to is when the budgets are being considered for the city, when the big decisions are being made, the faith community, for the most part, isn't part of that discussion," Motley said.
The Ministers Conference, led by the Rev. Louis B. Jones II, was one of the few groups that stayed out of partisan politics -- until this summer, when Jones put his name behind mayoral candidate Linda W. Cropp, chairman of the D.C. Council.
Historically, D.C. politics were shaped by towering religious figures, including the Rev. Walter Fauntroy, 10-time D.C. representative in Congress; the Rev. Jerry Moore, city council member from 1969 to 1984; and Bishop Walter "Sweet Daddy" McCollough, whose political blessing was coveted into the 1980s. Around election time, politicians and thousands of McCollough's followers would wait until the middle of the night at his Pentecostal United House of Prayer for All People to hear him read his endorsement list.
Candidates sought the endorsements of prominent clergy -- particularly Baptist leaders -- and looked to be on an informal but important survey called the Clergy 100 list, organized by city ministers.
"There was a heavy concentration of influence in the faith community. Pastors were the main leaders," said Sterling Tucker, former head of the city's Urban League and a city council member in the 1970s.
Without elected leadership until the 1970s, Washington had a unique political narrative, Tucker said; civil rights activists -- many from churches -- segued directly from being community leaders to political leaders.
Clergy openly endorsed candidates, and a reciprocal relationship developed, particularly when it came to city grant money, faith leaders say.
"I think under the [Marion] Barry administrations, the clergy were so tied into the administration and had received so many favors from it, that when it came time for the religious community to speak prophetically against Barry's antics, it could not," said A. Knighton Stanley, retiring senior minister at Peoples Congregational United Church of Christ.
Some faith leaders were courted because they had large congregations whose votes they could deliver. Then, the culture changed. Churchgoing voters fled the city in search of cheaper real estate. Advocacy groups -- including those for gays and lesbians and for developers -- grew in influence, and the city's racial and religious mix became more diverse. And the role of the black church changed.
"African American churches were the one institution that was fully owned by the African American community. But that has been changing; there are many other places where there is leadership, not just the church," said the Rev. Clark Lobenstine, executive director of the InterFaith Conference of Metropolitan Washington.
Since the 1950s, federal tax code has barred nonprofit organizations from participating in political campaigns. IRS literature says clergy members may publicly support candidates, as long as they make clear they are not speaking on behalf of their institution and don't use institutional assets -- such as a church publication or a church function.
In the meantime, however, congregants became less likely to want political advice from the pulpit, ministers say.
"I don't think there are many churches left where people would follow the clergy," said Stanley, who has led Peoples Congregational since 1968. "Most of those people who might have done what I told them to do, they are citizens of heaven now."
Today, some say that, through advocacy work, the faith community is more involved than it used to be but that it has removed itself from politics. To some, this is a sign of progress. Others think the city's poor have lost out because faith leaders were silent in development battles.
Certainly, candidates still visit churches, mosques and synagogues. And influential church leaders remain, including the Rev. H. Beecher Hicks Jr., of the 6,000-member Metropolitan Baptist Church, and the Rev. Wallace Charles Smith, of the 4,000-member Shiloh Baptist Church. The Washington Interfaith Network, a group focused on political organizing, says its volunteers have visited 4,000 homes this summer to register voters.
On a recent Sunday, D.C. Council member Adrian M. Fenty (D-Ward 4) took his mayoral campaign to the Holy Christian Missionary Baptist Church for All People, where he received an unusually public display of support from the pulpit. The Rev. Stephen E. Young Sr., in a booming voice, told about 100 congregants that he wanted to see Fenty win in "a landslide!" Fenty received a few "amens," and Young, shouting into the microphone, said, "Let's pray that once [Fenty] gets in that office, he doesn't forget us."
In an interview, Young said he thought that certain clergy members -- including himself -- could still deliver their congregation's votes. But generally, he said, clergy have removed themselves from politics because they weren't getting what had been promised in return.
In the church parking lot after the Sunday service, another reason was evident: Almost every car had a Maryland license plate.
Candidates say they consider the faith community indispensable. "They are the opinion-shapers. They are the leaders. They are an integral part of the community," mayoral candidate Marie C. Johns said.
But no one denies that the relationship between religion and politics in the city has changed dramatically in the past few decades. Many religious leaders note that only two of the five mayoral candidates appeared at a rally in April to support churches whose members -- now mostly Maryland residents who attend church in Washington -- park illegally on Sundays. The rally was called by faith leaders who were angry at Williams's plan to crack down without consulting more with them.
Many clergy say Williams has delegated his relations with much of the faith community to his staff and isn't comfortable socializing in the pews.
"One thing Marion Barry was able to do was connect with people in churches and ministers on a whole different level," said the Rev. Cheryl Sanders of Third Street of Church of God, a former member of Williams's Interfaith Council. "Williams just didn't seem to be at ease in the way that Barry was."
On a recent Thursday night, Amin Muslim went to hear mayoral candidate Michael Brown speak at the United House of Prayer. Muslim said he longs for a return to the day when religious leaders openly endorsed candidates.
"The faith community today is afraid to buck the political system," said Muslim, 50, who volunteers for Brown. "Religious institutions should be a hub for social change. Today in Washington, you can't even point to a single real activist out of the faith community."
The view looked different from across the room, where retired D.C. principal and church activist Princess Whitfield said that the absence of endorsements from faith leaders has created a healthier climate.
"It's not so much 'You scratch me, I'll scratch you,' " she said. "Nowadays, people are more independent."
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