EDITOR’S NOTE
STATEN ISLAND, N.Y. —
At Rossville African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Zion Church, a small but enduring congregation rooted in the historic Sandy Ground community, belonging is not defined by ancestry alone.
For decades, people with no familial connection to one of the nation’s oldest free Black settlements have found their way into the church — and stayed.
Their reasons vary, but their stories often land in the same place: a feeling of being seen, welcomed and sustained.
“The way they sang — it had soul, it had spirit,” said Ada Hollerman, 79.
The sermons, she added, did more than preach. “While they were doing the sermon, they would teach,” breaking down scripture in ways that connected to everyday life.
That difference kept her coming back. Over time, it became home.
The oldest continuously inhabited free Black community, Sandy Ground was founded in 1828 by free Black gardeners. It later became home to Black oystermen and their families from Snow Hill, Maryland, drawn by the rich oyster beds of Raritan Bay. Despite widespread segregation, the community thrived through Black landownership and is believed to have served as a stop on the Underground Railroad.
But that rich history wasn’t what initially enticed Hollerman to become a member of Rossville AME Zion Church.
She arrived more than 30 years ago after accepting an invitation to a church concert from a friend’s daughter. What began as a single visit grew into a lifelong commitment.
She had grown up in another church, one she still calls meaningful and rooted in family tradition. But something felt different in Rossville.
Now living off Staten Island for health reasons, Hollerman still logs in each Sunday to attend services virtually and remains active as a class leader. The connection, she said, has never faded.
“I found that they were very loving, open and welcoming,” she said. “We work together as one.”
A similar sense of discovery brought Deborah Santulli Barone through the church doors about 25 years ago, though her introduction came through her young son. After learning about Sandy Ground in school, he urged her to visit the historic church just blocks from their home.
Raised Roman Catholic but not deeply tied to any one denomination, Santulli Barone had explored different faiths before. None felt quite right. That changed the moment she walked into AME Zion.
“I walked through the doors and I felt spirituality — something I never felt in any church,” she said. “You could immediately feel the love and the presence of God.”
What struck her most was not doctrine but atmosphere — a warmth that felt immediate and genuine.
In a small congregation where people quickly learn each other’s names, she found something she hadn’t experienced before: the ability to simply be herself.
“I felt that it was the type of place where I can let down my guard. I could be me,” she said.
Over the years, that sense of acceptance has carried her through serious health challenges, including cancer, leukemia and a series of strokes.
“When I fall, these people are here to pick me up,” she said. “They checked on me, they prayed for me, they cooked me meals. You can’t find that anywhere else.”
Though she believes she may be the only white member of the congregation, Santulli Barone said that distinction has never mattered inside the church. What matters is how people show up for one another, she said.
A ‘true community’
For Tahita Briggs, 34, the church has shaped her life since adolescence — not just as a place of worship, but as a space where she grew up, formed relationships and developed her faith.
She first encountered AME Zion at age 14 while working at a daycare run by a Sandy Ground descendant who brought children to Sunday services.
“What attracted me was just being in the presence of everybody under the same faith of God— a true community,” Briggs said.
At first, she was simply accompanying the children. But the experience stayed with her — especially the energy of the choir and the sense of togetherness she had only seen before on television.
More importantly, she said, the church helped her understand faith in a personal way.
“They taught me how to know God for myself,” she said.
In her early 20s, Briggs left during a difficult period and attended another church. But the separation didn’t last.
“I came right back to where it started,” she said. “Everyone helped me in the most challenging times of my life.”
Now, two decades after first walking through the doors, she describes the congregation in deeply personal terms.
“We’re all like a family,” Briggs said. “Even though I’m not a descendant, I still feel like one.”
Like other “non-descendants,” learning about Sandy Ground’s history through sermons and church events came later for Tahita Briggs. “The ancestors were strong and resilient, and that strengthens me,” she said. “I take inspiration from that.”
The history of Sandy Ground has shaped how she sees the church’s future, inspiring her to stay engaged and encourage others to come.
Tahita’s mother, Priscilla Briggs, also found her path into the church through her children nearly 20 years ago.
At the time, Priscilla Briggs’ children attended a daycare run by a Sandy Ground community member who brought them to church each Sunday, repeatedly inviting her as she searched for a congregation while grieving her mother and trying to find a place that “felt right.” When she finally accepted, she said the response was immediate:
“It was the welcome, the feeling of home… They treated me like I was already family,” said Priscilla Briggs.
That sense of belonging proved crucial during later hardships, including the recent loss of a close family member.
“They just stepped up,” she said. “They made sure everything was good for me. They kept calling me, asking if I needed anything. That’s family.”
Facing challenges
At the same time, members acknowledge the challenges facing the church today. The congregation is smaller than it once was, with a core group of a few dozen in-person and online attendees.
Like many houses of worship, it has struggled to attract and retain younger members.
Still, those who remain describe a community that is tight-knit and resilient.
“Even though we’re few, we’re still strong,” Tahita Briggs said.
She hopes to see that change — more people, especially younger generations, coming through the doors, learning the history and building connections of their own.
Priscilla Briggs shares that hope. “My wish is to have more members, for the church to grow,” she said.
For Hollerman and Santulli Barone, the measure of the church’s success is more personal — found in decades of relationships, moments of unwavering support during hardship, and the quiet consistency through good times and bad.
“I love this church,” Hollerman said. “We are blessed to be a part of it.”
At Rossville AME Zion Church, members are working to replace unsafe rear steps, repair the building’s crumbling facade, and upgrade aging features inside the sanctuary, including seating, carpeting, and the sound system. Accessibility improvements, such as installing an elevator, are also a priority to better serve the congregation.
Beyond the church, overgrown vegetation and hazardous trees near the Baymen’s Cottages — historic homes owned by the congregation — must be cleared, while the cemetery requires ongoing maintenance to remain safe for visiting families.
To donate, visit: rossvilleamezionny.org/giving, select “other” and write in “preservation and restoration” efforts. To volunteer, call: (718) 356-0200.
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