Voodoo Flag art work by Ednord

Hollywood often stereotypes religion, of course, but when it comes to Haitian vodou (often Americanized as ''voodoo,'' which actually is an African-American offshoot), even everyday language can be dismissive. ''Voodoo economics,'' was not a tribute to Ronald Reagan's math skills.

To Erol Josue, an ''oungan'' (vodou priest), this popular perception is unfair.

''Magic exists in vodou,'' he says in French translated by his friend Anna Wexler, a Brookline writer and student of vodou. But the 15,000 people he estimates practice vodou in the Boston area don't run around choking dolls, Josue says.

Quite the opposite: In her new book ''Rara! Vodou, Power, and Performance in Haiti and Its Diaspora,'' Wesleyan scholar Elizabeth McAlister says vodou historically has been a force for good in Haiti, intimately woven with the struggle for civil rights and against poverty.

Yet the one-two punch of popular misperceptions and a relatively small Haitian community in Boston means vodou in this area is practiced in the privacy of homes and basements, unlike in New York or Miami, which have larger vodou populations and occasional public festivals.

''Most Americans ... think it's black magic,'' says McAlister. ''It's probably particularly secret, or let's say particularly protected, in Boston, but everywhere in the United States, practitioners are conscious the religion is demonized by the media.''

Wexler attributes local prejudice to the influence of some Protestant churches, which ''have brought a lot of Haitians, gotten them out of Haiti and gotten them visas,'' she says. ''The Protestant churches very often judge vodou very negatively.''

Many people probably aren't aware that vodou is a cousin of Catholicism, formed by the marriage of African traditions brought by slaves to Haiti and the faith of Rome forced on them by their French Catholic masters.

To be initiated into vodou, a person must first be baptized in a Catholic church, says McAlister.

Vodouists believe in a God who works through numerous spirits. In Lynn, where Josue lives in the home of his cousin, a health aide who is a ''manbo'' (priestess), his cousin stores a small altar in a cramped room in her basement. Josue says more than 100 people have squeezed into the basement for ceremonies before the altar, which was recently arrayed for a cermony to the spirit Ezili Danto.

Covered in a red cloth, the altar bore a solitary burning candle surrounded by bottles of alcohol and fronted by two cups of coffee. (Ezili Danto is an earthy spirit, partial to strong liquor and bitter coffee.) A plate of cookies stood for the children for whom this motherly spirit watches out. A bouquet of roses - thanks from a congregant for help received from the spirit - added a touch of nature. (Oungans and manbos counsel their congregants. They also use medicines made from plants to treat certain illneses, particularly diabetes, says Wexler.)

Color paintings of Catholic saints hung on the walls - Patrick expelling the snakes from Ireland among them - in silent witness to how Catholicism became ''a living part of the religion,'' says Wexler. Some vodouists attend Catholic churches, including Josue's cousin, who keeps a cross and figurine of Joseph holding the baby Jesus on an adjacent altar.

The calling to the priesthood comes when a ''lwa'' (spirit) chooses a person, says Josue. Preparation for priesthood includes a week or more of seclusion, during which the budding priest or priestess learns rituals and contemplates his or her spiritual identity. Priests and priestesses have equal power to lead ceremonies.

The ancestral aspect of vodou is as critical as the religious one. Josue visits Haiti at least once a year, to divest himself of the material trappings of the West and surround himself with the environment of his ancestors. The pilgrimage has not always been possible. During the temporary overthrow of President Jean-Bertand Aristide, Josue lived in exile because he could not speak freely against the military dictatorship that replaced Aristide's government.

There's another part of Haitian heritage to which vodou speaks: slavery, which existed until Haitians revolted and liberated themselves from the French in 1804. ''There's a lot of elements that remind us of the history of slavery in vodou,'' says Wexler, a descendant of New England clipper shipbuilders who benefitted from the slave trade.

Translating for Josue, she adds, ''It's also a religion of resistance, unlike how Karl Marx describes religion, as the opium of the people. People want their paradise here on earth; it's not a resignation to a better life after you die. ... It really infuses Haitians' ability to survive.''

© Copyright 2002 Globe Newspaper Company.

To Erol Josue, an ''oungan'' (vodou priest), this popular perception is unfair.

''Magic exists in vodou,'' he says in French translated by his friend Anna Wexler, a Brookline writer and student of vodou. But the 15,000 people he estimates practice vodou in the Boston area don't run around choking dolls, Josue says.

Quite the opposite: In her new book ''Rara! Vodou, Power, and Performance in Haiti and Its Diaspora,'' Wesleyan scholar Elizabeth McAlister says vodou historically has been a force for good in Haiti, intimately woven with the struggle for civil rights and against poverty.

Yet the one-two punch of popular misperceptions and a relatively small Haitian community in Boston means vodou in this area is practiced in the privacy of homes and basements, unlike in New York or Miami, which have larger vodou populations and occasional public festivals.

''Most Americans ... think it's black magic,'' says McAlister. ''It's probably particularly secret, or let's say particularly protected, in Boston, but everywhere in the United States, practitioners are conscious the religion is demonized by the media.''

Wexler attributes local prejudice to the influence of some Protestant churches, which ''have brought a lot of Haitians, gotten them out of Haiti and gotten them visas,'' she says. ''The Protestant churches very often judge vodou very negatively.''

Many people probably aren't aware that vodou is a cousin of Catholicism, formed by the marriage of African traditions brought by slaves to Haiti and the faith of Rome forced on them by their French Catholic masters.

To be initiated into vodou, a person must first be baptized in a Catholic church, says McAlister.

Vodouists believe in a God who works through numerous spirits. In Lynn, where Josue lives in the home of his cousin, a health aide who is a ''manbo'' (priestess), his cousin stores a small altar in a cramped room in her basement. Josue says more than 100 people have squeezed into the basement for ceremonies before the altar, which was recently arrayed for a cermony to the spirit Ezili Danto.

Covered in a red cloth, the altar bore a solitary burning candle surrounded by bottles of alcohol and fronted by two cups of coffee. (Ezili Danto is an earthy spirit, partial to strong liquor and bitter coffee.) A plate of cookies stood for the children for whom this motherly spirit watches out. A bouquet of roses - thanks from a congregant for help received from the spirit - added a touch of nature. (Oungans and manbos counsel their congregants. They also use medicines made from plants to treat certain illneses, particularly diabetes, says Wexler.)

Color paintings of Catholic saints hung on the walls - Patrick expelling the snakes from Ireland among them - in silent witness to how Catholicism became ''a living part of the religion,'' says Wexler. Some vodouists attend Catholic churches, including Josue's cousin, who keeps a cross and figurine of Joseph holding the baby Jesus on an adjacent altar.

The calling to the priesthood comes when a ''lwa'' (spirit) chooses a person, says Josue. Preparation for priesthood includes a week or more of seclusion, during which the budding priest or priestess learns rituals and contemplates his or her spiritual identity. Priests and priestesses have equal power to lead ceremonies.

The ancestral aspect of vodou is as critical as the religious one. Josue visits Haiti at least once a year, to divest himself of the material trappings of the West and surround himself with the environment of his ancestors. The pilgrimage has not always been possible. During the temporary overthrow of President Jean-Bertand Aristide, Josue lived in exile because he could not speak freely against the military dictatorship that replaced Aristide's government.

There's another part of Haitian heritage to which vodou speaks: slavery, which existed until Haitians revolted and liberated themselves from the French in 1804. ''There's a lot of elements that remind us of the history of slavery in vodou,'' says Wexler, a descendant of New England clipper shipbuilders who benefitted from the slave trade.

Translating for Josue, she adds, ''It's also a religion of resistance, unlike how Karl Marx describes religion, as the opium of the people. People want their paradise here on earth; it's not a resignation to a better life after you die. ... It really infuses Haitians' ability to survive.''

© Copyright 2002 Globe Newspaper Company.