A silent revival The rise of Pentecostalism among English Gypsies

From the Economist

“MY PEOPLE were in spiritual darkness,” says Davey Jones, leader of the Life and Light church in Britain. “Now many of them are experiencing a personal relationship with God for the first time.” Sitting in his immaculate caravan, Mr Jones ticks off the Life and Light churches that have opened in the past few years, bringing the total to more than 30. At the end of next month the church will hold a meeting in a field near Doncaster. It is planning for 1,000 caravans and 5,000 people, although that could be an underestimate. The past few meetings of Pentecostal Gypsies have attracted many more people than either the church or local residents had bargained for.

Gypsies have been evangelised before. Victorian pastors tried to save them from a nomadic lifestyle that they considered depraved. Several Gypsy preachers emerged, including “Gipsy Smith”, a member of the Salvation Army. But the current revival began in continental Europe. Life and Light was founded in Brittany by Clement le Cossec, who converted Mr Jones. Although the church has more members in France, it is quickly gaining converts among the much smaller population of English Gypsies and, to a lesser extent, among Irish Travellers. According to an official count, there are fewer than 19,000 Gypsy and Traveller caravans in England.
In this section

Pentecostal religion is having a profound effect on Gypsy culture. Believers practise baptism by full immersion, speaking in tongues and divine healing. Mr Jones’s wife Nora comes from a family of fortune-tellers, but she no longer practises: the church frowns on such superstitions. Life and Light also scorns teenage marriage (common among Gypsies and Travellers) and stimulants such as alcohol. It emphasises Bible study, which means learning to read. “Proper Romanies just want to do business, so they have had no need for education,” explains Mr Jones.

Some fear a culture is being eroded. Ian Hancock, an expert on Europe’s Gypsies at the University of Texas, admires the way the church gives a voice to downtrodden folk. But he describes its prohibitions as a “gross cultural imposition”. Even Mr Jones moves gingerly at times. Earlier this month he was at Appleby Horse Fair in Cumbria—Europe’s largest Gypsy gathering—but quietly. He wanted to establish a Christian presence at the fair, but avoid the appearance of fanaticism. “We must draw our people to us,” says the pastor.