DC's 'Church Row' reflects diversity

DC's 'Church Row' reflects diversity
Dallas Morning News (subscription), TX –

WASHINGTON – Sundays, the S2 bus up the capital's 16th Street carries all manner of urban dwellers to worship: Solemn black men carry the Good Book, diminutive nuns in blue and white habits confer in Spanish, graceful Ethiopian women wrap themselves in gauzy white and gold shawls.

Though this historic north-south artery has long been viewed as a racial and ethnic dividing line, today its more than 40 houses of worship connect the capital's diverse pockets – Latin American and Asian, gay and straight, old-line and newly arrived – like no other street in the city.

16th Street retains much of the sweeping, tree-lined majesty that architect Pierre L'Enfant envisioned when he contrived to create a world-class capital out of a malarial swamp in 1791. The 7.5-mile thoroughfare is graced with grand hotels, embassies, Beaux Arts mansions and apartment buildings, and a beautifully restored Italianate park.

But its lifeblood courses in the pews that populate just about every block, living up to its century-old nickname, "Church Row."

Why so many churches? According to Erica Ginsberg, a local filmmaker producing a documentary on the street's history, the 1815 arrival of St. John's Episcopal Church, just across Lafayette Square from the White House, probably established the street as a status address for religious worship, a stamp that lingers today.

Indeed, the 11 a.m. Sunday service at canary-yellow St. John's, with its creaky floorboards and centuries-old stained glass windows, provides visitors with a glimpse of establishment Washington. The hymns are traditional, the congregation well-coiffed, the sermons pleasant if bland ("no pain, no gain" was a recent message).

A well-timed visit might net a sighting of the president and his family, known to worship here in Pew 54 on special occasions.

The buttoned-down church has an alter ego, and at 1 p.m. it dons the mantle of Iglesia San Juan, opening its doors to the Latino community. The afternoon service feels like a family gathering, with cantos sung to guitar and tambourine. Kids show up in soccer jerseys, and congregants wish one another "la paz" with kisses and hugs rather than handshakes.

A couple of miles north, where 16th Street bisects immigrant-rich Mount Pleasant and Columbia Heights, the iron-gated Shrine of the Sacred Heart says it serves faithful from 60 nations. Sunday mornings, vendors set up under striped umbrellas to create a town square that calls to mind more southerly capitals such as San Salvador or Quito. Churchgoers and passers-by have their pick of fried plantains and black beaded bracelets stamped Real Madrid, all for under a dollar.

Sunday Mass at Sacred Heart is offered in English, Spanish, Vietnamese and French-Creole, each a world unto itself. The noontime Spanish service is packed with Central American immigrants in polo shirts and jeans, while the 4:15 Haitian service draws a small but fervent crowd, a six-person choir swaying to the up-tempo beat of bongo drums.

At the Vietnamese Mass, women appear in traditional high-necked tunics over flowing pants and snap hand-painted fans back and forth, glinting silver in the smoky light. The sing-song language has a soporific effect, broken only when bells ring as the priest raises a chalice to the frescoed dome. He bows deeply, from the waist, to pay respects to the congregants; even the youngest among them returns the gesture.

The mood is less subdued across the street, where it takes Pastor Calvin E. Cage only minutes to work the black congregation at Meridian Hill Baptist Church into a crescendo of "Amens!" and "Yes, sirs!" during a sermon.

He's a master performer in a three-piece suit, loosening his tie and swiping a handkerchief across his face to let the crowd know he's just getting started. He feints, he pauses, he bellows. When he finally breaks into song and the organist kicks in, two rows of gray-haired female ushers, dressed head to toe in white, can't restrain themselves. They jump to their feet, waving fans stamped "Mayor Williams" and dance in the aisles.

A lower-key but no less interesting experience awaits a few blocks south at the unadorned All Souls Unitarian Church. There, the Rev. Rob Hardies quotes E.E. Cummings and rails against the religious right from a pulpit high above an upbeat crowd. Washingtonians of all faiths mix here on Sundays, and you'll find yourself wishing peace upon the tank-topped and tattooed, earnest public servants and gay couples toting babies.

All Souls sermons, available in MP3 format on the church's Web site, are light on Scripture and take pains to address issues that resonate with urban professionals, such as "Deliver Us from E-Mail."

But what really livens things up is the church's in-house theater troupe, the Kuumba Players, who present 10-minute morality tales with an ethereal flair. On a recent Sunday, the group performed "A Sufi Tale" with actors in the roles of wind, water and desert wafting down the aisles under gossamer scarves and emoting to the balcony. Looking down from his high-backed chair, even Mr. Hardies couldn't help but chuckle.

Julia Ross is a freelance writer in Washington.

When you go

St. John's Episcopal Church, 1525 H St. NW; 202-347-8766; www.stjohns-dc.org

Meridian Hill Baptist Church, 3146 16th St. NW; 202-387-4181

Shrine of the Sacred Heart, 3211 Sacred Heart Way NW; 202-234-8000; www.parishes.org/sacredheartdc.html

All Souls Church, Unitarian, 1500 Harvard St. NW; 202-332-5266.