A Hard Look & Necessary Criticism Of Black Churches & How They Operate

A Call for Accountability: The Failure of Spiritual Beliefs in American Freedmen Communities

© Ogbonna Hagins for Philly Word Magazine 

Let’s begin with the countless Christian churches—particularly Baptist churches and other denominations—that occupy the heart of American Freedmen neighborhoods. These churches have long promised salvation, redemption, and a better future for their congregants. Yet, despite the fervent prayers and the hymns of hope, our communities remain largely unchanged. In fact, they’ve gotten worse.

Poverty, violence, and disenfranchisement plague the streets, and the same promises of deliverance echo every Sunday: “It’ll get better, but only after you die.” This “pie-in-the-sky” mentality, where we are taught to accept suffering and deprivation now because we’ll understand it all in the afterlife, has kept us stagnant for generations.

Let’s examine the wealth disparity. Ministers, many of whom live in large homes and drive expensive cars, enjoy luxuries their congregants can only dream of. The collective of the people—the very community these churches claim to serve—is not benefiting.

Instead, it’s the leadership that profits. These ministers, in essence, have become snake oil salesmen, promising a better life after death, but failing to deliver any real change in the here and now. Yes, they may have prayed for someone, or performed a ceremony, but where is the collective uplift? Where are the tangible results that should follow from a faith that claims to heal and prosper?

 

I recall attending a church in North Philadelphia at 19th and Master, where I served as a trustee. I saw all the ins and outs of church life. But when I look at that church today, it’s still in the same condition, on the same corner. Surrounding it, there’s construction—new businesses and developments—but none of it benefits the American Freedmen community. The church remains unchanged, while gentrification continues unabated.

This is not an isolated example. Look at Greater St. Matthew’s Church, which was once located on Grays Ferry Avenue. Forced to sell its property, that space is now condominiums. These are just a few of the many churches where the leadership has failed to address the pressing needs of the community.

 

Now, let’s turn to the Odunde Festival, an event rooted in the Yoruba tradition, which has long been a symbol of cultural pride and community unity for American Freedmen. Originally, the festival was held in an area that was home to a thriving Freedmen community. However, over the years, that very neighborhood has undergone a significant transformation, with gentrification taking hold.

What was once a vibrant community of American Freedmen is now primarily a white, immigrant-dominated area. So, where were the Orishas, the revered deities of the Yoruba tradition, to protect this space and preserve the community’s way of life? We have prayed, we have performed rituals, but the reality of gentrification marches on, undeterred.

 

But it’s not just the Yoruba belief system that has failed us. It’s a broader issue with the spiritual and religious systems we turn to for guidance. These systems, whether rooted in Christianity, Islam, or indigenous traditions, have not provided the material uplift we need. In fact, we see the same troubling patterns in our Muslim communities.

In Philadelphia, where there is a large and vibrant Muslim population, we witness spiritual events, including the celebration of Id festivals, that should represent moments of unity and divine blessing. Yet, in recent years, these very events have been disrupted by violence, shootings, and chaos. The question must be asked: Where is God? Where are the divine protections we are promised by these deities?

 

These are not isolated occurrences. We have been taught to believe that our faith, whether in Christianity, Islam, or other spiritual systems, would shield us and uplift our communities.

But when we continue to see these secular events unfold, when violence erupts at our sacred gatherings, we must confront the uncomfortable truth: something isn’t adding up. If our beliefs are truly meant to protect us and guide us, why is it that we’re still suffering, still seeing our neighborhoods fall into disrepair, still watching gentrification consume what was once ours?

 

It’s time to ask hard questions. If these belief systems are supposed to be the pillars of hope, where is the tangible progress? Where is the collective uplift? The truth is, we’ve been pacified by empty promises of divine intervention, and while we’ve prayed, believed, and hoped, the material conditions of our lives have only worsened. This is a failure, not just of faith, but of leadership.

 

Ministers, Imams, spiritual leaders—where are the results? You lead us in prayers, ceremonies, and rituals, but where is the collective change?

The problem is not in the faith itself but in the way we’ve allowed these systems to pacify us without demanding concrete results. We’ve been conditioned to wait for an afterlife to understand the purpose of our suffering, but this mentality has kept us in chains—mental chains—that prevent us from seeking real solutions in the present.

 

This is a dangerous cycle. We’ve been conditioned to believe that salvation will come in the afterlife, but what about here on earth? What about the suffering we endure now? If these belief systems were truly working, we would see tangible progress—stronger families, better schools, safer streets, thriving businesses.

But instead, we continue to see the American Freedmen community struggle, while those at the top—ministers, spiritual leaders, and other figures of authority—enjoy the fruits of our labor without contributing to our collective uplift.

 

It’s time for a reckoning. It’s time for radical honesty. The question is no longer about what the Orishas or God will do for us after we die—it’s about what we, as a community, can do for ourselves right now.

If our religious systems aren’t bringing tangible results, it’s time to question their validity. We must stop relying on these belief systems as crutches to avoid doing the hard, material work required to rebuild our communities. We need to stop letting these institutions pacify us with promises of better days in the afterlife, while our lives remain unchanged.

 

We must demand more from our spiritual leaders, from our political leaders, and from ourselves. Enough with the empty promises. Enough with the fatalism. It’s time for American Freedmen to take control of our present and our future. We have the power to create change, but only if we stop using belief systems as an excuse to avoid the necessary work of liberation.

Ogbonna Hagins

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