Church helped city’s newcomers
When Canada’s immigration flood gates opened to the Caribbean, a fledgling congregation of a tiny religion was ideally suited to give the newcomers a soft landing.
The Toronto West Seventh-day Adventist Church (SDA) was to become a bulwark for many Black newcomers and a model for similar congregations (of all nationalities) across Canada. But “Black Church” is not how Adventists would have self-described in the 1960s.
The classic Black church in majority white societies is often the first wall of autonomy for authentic, unbridled self-expression and cultural retention. Adventist roots are distinctly more evangelistically focused on “spreading the gospel.”
But circumstances and calling were to define this Toronto group and sweep it along on a mission few could have preconceived, much less planned.
The Original 8 pioneers who said, in 1961, “Let’s start our own church,” would see 38 charter members sign the registry as they officially became a church in 1963. By 1970, membership had jumped 1,000 per cent at the 10 Harvie Ave. location, forcing a second congregation on nearby Perth Ave. Today there are more than 70 SDA congregations (of several nationalities) across the GTA, and Toronto West is the largest Adventist church in the province, with about 1,400 members.
What’s the secret? Some call it the Adventist Advantage.
One of the originals, Urich Ferdinand, sits on the Immigration and Refugee Board of Canada and, for 14 years, was second in command in the office of Ontario premier Bill Davis.
Wintley Phipps, who as a teenager would enthrall the west-end church with his basso profundo voice, went on to sing for six U.S. presidents from Reagan to Obama — not to mention global giants such as Mother Teresa, Nelson Mandela, Oprah and Diana Ross.
The Adventist Advantage is a potent recipe for young immigrants balancing the heavy marginalization of race, class, culture and religion
Rising star Daniel Caesar sings from the other end of the octave, but church members were his first audience.
Adventist theology promotes strictures and a nonindulgent lifestyle that breeds healthy living. For starters: no alcohol or drugs, limits on caffeine and adherence to Levitical dietary laws, including no pork or shell fish.
Devotion to God is the only thing that trumps fealty to family, service to community, stewardship of the poor and underclass, fastidious allegiance to youth and the most underrated dictum: education, education, education.
As such, studies show Adventists live longer and healthier than the general population. And members harbour a relentless drive toward bettering themselves.
To that ethic, add the essential striving of the churchgoer, which is to inherit a heaven that is the antithesis of the cruelties on earth. Throw in a kinship with a Jesus who was whipped and crucified. The combination is a potent recipe for young immigrants balancing the heavy marginalization of race, class, culture and religion.
My stepmother, Rose, arrived alone in 1963 as a live-in maid in Forest Hill. She had only about 30 hours of non-work time per week, sundown Friday to late Saturday night. In a strange land, with a grade-school education, Aunt Rose had an advantage over other domestics. She had church support.
She would take the bus to Euclid Ave. and bunk down with a church sister, Ivy Casey. They would be at the rented British Methodist Episcopal Church on Shaw St. bright and early Saturday mornings to participate in group Bible study and vigorous discussion bordering on polemics.
The 11 a.m. worship service is laced with boisterous singing, dramatic spoken word, creative liturgy and a total experience best described as a celebration. For the first time all week, the worshippers are immersed on familiar ground, with familiar faces.
Their souls satisfied, one of several communal lunches beckoned. The weekly feast lacked nothing in culinary creativity and expression. As long as one lives, one does not forget the gastronomic delights of the Sabbath lunch.
As the digestive juices flowed, the informal schooling of a people transpired. They dissected immigration challenges, shared employment leads, circumvented and challenged racist practices, comforted the lonely, filled the basket of the poor and tackled educational obstacles in the way of the children.
Every Saturday afternoon, a couple of hours before sunset, youth leaders took control and directed their fellows and their parents in an intergenerational and multi-dimensional exercise.
The message, drummed into every young person is: you are a child of God. You are meant to be great. You can do anything — through Jesus Christ who gives you the strength. No matter how a racist society may view you, God has a higher purpose for your life.
And the most dynamic part of the day was still to come — one that ended in the famous Saturday night church social, spiced with fantastic food and clean, vigorous family fun stretching late into the night.
That’s what I stepped into when I arrived in 1969. I get chills writing about this. That’s because I now know that very few of my Black peers in the neighbourhood had access to this life-transforming food. By age 10, I had received more posi- tive, inspiring messages from more Black role models at church than most Blacks will get in a lifetime. Talk about a village. And surrogates. How could I possibly fail?
The Original 8 led by example. Roy and Lurline Sulker were health professionals. Neville and Sheila Smith both earned PhDs in education, with Neville blazing a trail in vocational education in the U.S.
Iva Saunders became a registered nurse, working at Mount Sinai for 25 years. Her husband, Milton, served as second chef at Wellesley Hospital for 30 years. The Saunders’ son, Bryan, represented Canada at three Summer Olympic Games.
Doctors, lawyers, engineers, accountants, playwrights and authors, health professionals, a bevy of educators and, of course, preachers can trace their path back to the footprints made by the pioneers of that Toronto West SDA. When Donald McLeod and his sister, Sharon, wanted a place to nurture their teenage spirit, the youth choir at 10 Harvie Ave. provided the space. He is now Justice McLeod, and she a successful social worker.
The kids I ran around with, kicking a soccer ball and catching a football in the summertime among the saplings at Alexandra Park — Earle ( judge), Claudette (lawyer), Dave (college dean), Geraldo and the late Juliet (PhDs) spring to mind.
Then, the innumerable band of “incognegroes” — the mass of Black folks who are successful, contributing members of Canadian society — who help make this city and country tick, without fanfare, unknown to anyone, police included.
They and their forebears came to Canada, found their feet in a niche carved out by a west-end church and now live the Canadian Dream. All because Canada opened the door, first to some domestics, and then to immigrants from the Caribbean.
The message, drummed into every young person is: you are a child of God. You are meant to be great. You can do anything