Haitian Immigrants Revived a Church. Now the Pews Are Empty.

At St. Elizabeth’s Episcopal Church in Elizabeth, New Jersey, Haitian immigrants helped bring new life to an aging congregation. Now, with the Supreme Court set to rule on whether Haitians will lose Temporary Protected Status, fear is emptying church pews.

On a Sunday in March, the Rev. Canon Andy Moore looked out at the empty back-left pews that had once been filled with Haitian parishioners. Before breaking the Communion wafers, he prayed in a special way for the Haitians who were absent, describing them as stricken by fear.

Only months earlier, Haitian parishioners had helped revive St. Elizabeth’s. The choir had gone dormant, but nearly a dozen Haitians led the church in worship on Christmas Eve, singing “Mèsi Bondye,” thanking God in Haitian Creole. The church had helped many find housing, learn English, and secure jobs in the United States.

Fear Reaches the Sanctuary

That March morning, Haitian parishioners had reason to stay home. Word had spread that immigration enforcement agents were gathering outside a nearby Wendy’s, only two blocks from the church.

Last November, the Trump administration announced that it sought to terminate Temporary Protected Status for Haitians. As mass deportation efforts were underway, fear of arrest rose sharply among Haitian immigrants in New Jersey and across the country. The Supreme Court heard oral arguments in April and was expected to rule by late June on the fate of some 330,000 affected Haitians.

The fear has not been limited to St. Elizabeth’s. At Voice of the Gospel Tabernacle in Boston’s Mattapan neighborhood, parishioners have delivered groceries to Haitians afraid to leave their homes. Bishop Nicholas Homicil estimated that about 80% of the congregation now stays home. Across the Southern Baptist Conference’s National Haitian Fellowship, attendance has reportedly declined by an average of 30%.

Trying to Bring People Back

Moore’s efforts to bring Haitian parishioners back to St. Elizabeth’s have not succeeded. A donated minivan meant to shuttle Haitian immigrants to and from church needed more repairs than the congregation could afford. The two volunteer drivers, both Haitian immigrants, also began to feel unsafe.

A WhatsApp group called “Haitian ministry” offered rides, with a church member translating Moore’s messages from English to Creole. Few accepted. One church member, using the pseudonym Roseline out of fear of immigration enforcement, said even Zoom felt risky to some parishioners.

“Even with Zoom, they are afraid. They say they don’t want to be tracked.”

Then she corrected herself: “We are afraid, not ‘they.’ We are afraid.”

Why Haitians Received TPS

Haitians were first granted Temporary Protected Status in 2010 after an earthquake killed more than 220,000 people and displaced 1.5 million. Those protections have been repeatedly extended as Haiti has faced continuing crises.

The fear now spreading through Haitian communities in the United States is deeply connected to the conditions that forced many to leave Haiti in the first place.

One St. Elizabeth’s parishioner told Religion News Service that she had held leadership roles at a Pentecostal church in Cité Soleil, one of Port-au-Prince’s most violent neighborhoods. Gang violence later destroyed her husband’s trucking business, and a shootout burned down her childhood home in May 2023.

A few months later, she and her husband, with their 1-year-old child, crossed Nicaragua, Honduras, Guatemala, and Mexico before arriving in Texas and eventually making their way to New Jersey.

How St. Elizabeth’s Became Home

The family found St. Elizabeth’s in April 2024 through an English class offered by the church. Moore quickly realized they were practically homeless. The church placed them in a hotel until they secured housing and connected them with legal aid to apply for TPS.

They found ways to give back. She sang solos with the Haitian Creole choir, while her husband became one of the volunteer drivers.

Before the influx of Haitian refugees began arriving in Elizabeth in 2010, Moore said Sunday attendance was largely flat, in the low forties. Together, Haitian parishioners and new members who joined to support them quadrupled that number.

St. Elizabeth’s began collecting non-perishable foods and clothing for new arrivals. English classes soon outgrew a small room above the sanctuary and drew more than 300 Haitian students.

Church members also helped newcomers find stable work, often as home health aides or nursing assistants. St. Elizabeth’s organist, Sam Crawford, created résumés for more than 100 recent migrants. Though the Elizabeth Public Library invited Haitian students to join its English classes, many preferred the church because it felt more familiar and less public.

A Congregation Full of Life

Haitian parishioners became deeply woven into the life of St. Elizabeth’s. They served as acolytes and Eucharistic ministers. Scripture was read in French and Haitian Creole. After worship, people stayed for hours, cooking, talking, and singing.

On Haitian Independence Day, Moore invited Haitians and other Caribbeans to the parish hall for soup joumou, also known as freedom soup. The celebration lasted until two in the morning.

For Roseline, the meal carried deep meaning. She said it felt as though the church was saying, “We know you are here, and we see you, and you matter.”

The Biggest Blow

But fear gradually overtook fellowship. The woman from Cité Soleil stopped singing in the Haitian choir before Christmas after her husband became too afraid of detention to continue driving people to church. A week after the Haitian Independence Day celebration, even Roseline stayed home for more than two months.

When she returned cautiously, she was nearly always the only Haitian in the pews.

“I think it was the biggest blow to my whole ministry,” Moore said. “I’ve dealt with all kinds of setbacks, challenges, but this one really, really shook my faith.”

The possibility of St. Elizabeth’s closing is never far from Moore’s mind. On Good Friday, only 18 worshippers were present, including those behind the organ and altar. Nearby St. Agnes’ Episcopal Church in Little Falls, New Jersey, was preparing to hold its final service on Easter Sunday after 130 years.

Moore prayed and pleaded for life to return to the church. His thoughts turned to the Haitians behind locked doors, not unlike the disciples on the first Easter.

“Let this church be filled with voices, especially for those who are missed,” Moore said. “We sing for those who cannot sing.”

Why This Matters

This story is not only about church attendance. It is about how immigration policy, fear, and public uncertainty can reach directly into the spiritual lives of communities.

At St. Elizabeth’s, Haitian immigrants did more than fill pews. They helped restore song, service, fellowship, hospitality, and hope. Their absence reveals the cost of fear—not only for immigrant families, but for the congregations and cities that have been strengthened by their presence.

Featured Answer

How did Haitian immigrants revive St. Elizabeth’s Episcopal Church? Haitian immigrants helped revive St. Elizabeth’s Episcopal Church in Elizabeth, New Jersey, by joining worship, singing in the choir, attending English classes, serving as acolytes and Eucharistic ministers, preparing meals, volunteering, and helping rebuild the congregation’s sense of community.

Frequently Asked Questions

Why are Haitian parishioners staying home from church?

Many Haitian parishioners are staying home because they fear immigration enforcement and the possible loss of Temporary Protected Status.

What is Temporary Protected Status?

Temporary Protected Status, or TPS, is a federal immigration designation that allows people from certain countries facing crisis conditions to live and work temporarily in the United States.

Where is St. Elizabeth’s Episcopal Church located?

St. Elizabeth’s Episcopal Church is located in Elizabeth, New Jersey.

How did St. Elizabeth’s support Haitian immigrants?

The church offered English classes, housing support, legal aid connections, job search help, food, clothing, transportation efforts, and a worship community where Haitian parishioners could serve and belong.

Source

Noah LaBelle, Religion News Service. Source: Religion News Service.