JOHN FERNANDEZ, Palm Beach Post Staff Writer

Ernesto Pichardo has a modest dream. He wants to practice his religion in a church.

He figures that opening the Church of Lukumi Babalu Aye in a storefront next to a Masonic lodge will give it respectability it lacks now, when services take place in living rooms and garages.

To get an idea of his chances for success, consider the name his two-year struggle to conduct services in the church has inherited in this working-class city: "the Chicken War."
Pichardo is a priest in the much-maligned Santeria religion, which uses sacrifices of chickens and other animals in its rites. His church is going to court July 31 seeking to overturn three city ordinances that ban the ritual killings of animals. His attorneys say the ordinances, passed by the Hialeah City Council in September 1987, infringe on Pichardo's constitutional right to freedom of religion.

If the Church of Lukumi Babalu Aye-- Lukumi is an African word for Santeria, and Babalu Aye is one of its most revered saints-- succeeds, the centuries-old Afro-Cuban religion practiced in secrecy by an estimated 50,000 to 70,000 South Florida Hispanics will move into the open for the first time. Pichardo can't wait.

"I am tired of being discriminated upon and of practicing my faith in a home as if I was some kind of criminal element," he says.

Santeria traces its roots to African slaves who brought their religion to Cuba, where it blended with Catholic dogma. The slaves identified orichas, or African gods, by the names of Catholic saints and sacrificed animals to summon those gods. Santeros, people who practice Santeria, derive many of their traditions from the Yorubas, a tribe in what is Nigeria.

Believers channel their prayers by offering their gods pots full of herbs and fruits and the blood of certain animals. Santeros dressed in white chant African prayers at living room altars or in converted garages.

Attorneys for Pichardo say a court victory will result in the U.S. "institutionalization" of Santeria, similiar to what occurred long ago in several Latin American and African countries.

"If there is a constitutional right to religion in this country, it is now going to be tested," Pichardo says. "I am convinced that institutionalization will achieve social acceptance for us."

`THIS SO-CALLED CHURCH'

City officials claim the ordinances were not designed to restrict Santeria or other religions. The laws only mirror a Florida statute prohibiting "cruelty to animals," they say.

"We have laws in this state that have to be followed," said Hialeah Mayor Raul Martinez. "The people in this so-called church want to violate these laws and look the other way. In no way are we trying to limit people's religious rights, but even churches have to conform to society's mores and laws."

Pichardo's Miami attorney, Jorge Duarte, compares Santeria rites with dietary laws observed by some Jews. Provisions in state law and the federal Humane Slaughter Act-- referred to as the Kosher Exemption-- similarly protect practioners of Santeria and other religions from prosecution, Duarte said.

Both sides in the court battle are well armed.

The American Civil Liberties Union is assisting Duarte and underwriting the church's legal costs -- about $7,000 so far.

Joining city attorneys on the other side is the prominent Bickell Avenue law firm of Greenberg, Traurig, Hoffman, Lipoff, Rosen & Quentel at a cost exceeding $200,000.

Moreover, animal-rights activists and the Ecclesiastical Board of Hialeah, a group of ministers of various Christian denominations, are echoing the City Council's denouncement of Santeria rituals.

"We oppose anything . . . to do with the suffering of animals," said board member Rev. Edwin Diaz. "It is repugnant to go out and kill living animals and let them bleed to death in front of an altar. Biblical teachings prohibit doing anything related to voodoo or black magic."

The city ordinances-- enacted during an election year by a City Council sensitive to voters' disdain of Santeria-- carry a fine of $500 or 60 days in jail. They ban the ritual "sacrifice or slaughter" of any "living and dumb creature," said Melissa Volker, Hialeah assistant city attorney.

"We're more concerned with cruelty to animals, not the religion itself," she said.

The city says it outlawed the sacrifice of animals for reasons of safety, health and morals. But Duarte said city officials have failed to produce evidence connecting Santeros to any health or safety violations.

"For 30 years, people have been practicing Santeria in this community, and there has never been a complaint filed with the Health Department concerning any health hazard due to animal sacrifices," Duarte said.

CEREMONY STARTED UPROAR

Since Pichardo opened his church in April 1988 in a former hardware store at 700 Palm Ave. one block from City Hall, he has been forced to leave it closed most days, and most of his 300 followers have stayed away, he says.

The controversy erupted in May 1987 after he and his brother, Fernando, bought a small building at another Hialeah site. On June 4 of that year, Pichardo conducted his first public ceremony before 50 Santeros in a parking lot adjacent to the building. The service, which did not include animal rituals, was interrupted by jeers and taunts from spectators outside a barbed- wire fence.

Pichardo never moved into his original site because city inspectors repeatedly found various minor building code violations, and he accused city officials of dragging their feet on a certificate of occupancy. Officials denied the allegation.

At a City Council meeting soon after the outdoor service, residents accused Santeros of everything from spreading AIDS to cannibalism and human sacrifice. Responding to the outcry, the council hurriedly passed an emergency ordinance that increased the penalty for violating state law prohibiting cruelty to animals.

`MODERN-DAY INQUISITION'

Throughout, Pichardo contended that his religion's ritual sacrifices are done humanely, and the carcasses are disposed of properly.

Soon after the council passed the three ordinances in September 1987, Pichardo filed suit and abandoned the original site to concentrate on the legal fight.

Despite people's opposition to his religion, Pichardo, 34, says he is confident of overcoming the "modern-day Inquisition" conducted by officials in this predominantly Hispanic and Catholic city of more than 160,000 residents.

He hopes to open a museum and library tracing the history of Santeria and hold lectures that will dispel misconceptions about his religion.

Six altar displays of African artifacts and statues of Catholic saints adorn the small church's interior. A sign over the front door reads: "The progress of this religion is our mission."

Pichardo considers himself a pioneer. He has taught the tenets of Santeria and related Afro-Caribbean religions at Miami-Dade Community College and the county's police academy.

But he wasn't quite prepared for the uproar over his church.

"We anticipated some culture shock and political pressures but not to this magnitude," he said.

Scholars who have studied the religion say Cuban immigrants have sought solace, confidence and guidance through Santeria in their struggle to succeed in America.

In April, public condemnation of the religion was rekindled after the ritual slayings in Matamoros, Mexico, were linked to a Miami man who practiced Santeria. Local Santeros, infuriated at being linked with the killings, adamantly denied any connection between Santeria and human sacrifices.

Pichardo believes holding services in a church open to the public will help dispel such reactions:

"All I want to do is take my religion out of the home and give it the respectability I think it deserves."

CHRONOLOGY

MAY 1987: Ernesto Pichardo announces plans to convert a building in Hialeah into a Santeria church. The proposal draws criticism from city officials.

JUNE 4, 1987: Unable to move into the building because of building code violations, Pichardo holds his first service in a parking lot next to the building.

JUNE 9, 1987: City Council passes an emergency ordinance increasing the penalty for violating a Florida statute prohibiting cruelty to animals.

JULY 1987: In an advisory opinion, Florida Attorney General Bob Butterworth rejects Pichardo's claims that the state's 86-year-old `Kosher Exemption' exempts the Santeria ritual of animal sacrifices from state health laws. One City Council member proposes banning the church's services altogether, but the proposal is later abandoned.

SEPTEMBER 1987: Council passes three ordinances prohibiting the ritual ' slaughter or sacrifice' of animals. Pichardo, backed by the American Civil Liberties Union, files suit in federal court to overturn the ordinances.

APRIL 1988: Abandoning his original site, Pichardo opens the first Santeria church in the United States in a converted hardware store one block from City Hall.

JULY 31: The suit is scheduled to go to trial before U.S. District Judge Eugene Spellman in Miami.