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Opinion | The Haitian Pulse | July 9, 2025
The Haitian Pulse delivers fearless, diasporic perspectives that challenge corruption, expose opportunism, and amplify voices too often silenced.

When Influence Demands Responsibility

There is a timeless principle embedded in spiritual teaching and humane wisdom: To whom much has been given, much is required. This axiom carries weight for individuals, institutions, and nations alike. It’s especially relevant for a man like Pastor Gregory Toussaint—who received global attention, massive financial backing, and devoted congregations—yet seems to have neglected the very community he claimed to uplift.

Born in Haiti, later rising to prominence in Miami, Toussaint amassed tremendous resources. Today, his $60 million Tabernacle of Glory stands as a testament to his success—an estate of spiritual and material affluence constructed in a community riddled with vulnerability. But with that success came moral obligation. To praise without purpose is a hollow echo. And here is where Toussaint’s leadership seems to have fallen short.

Opportunity Amid Crisis, Silence in the Storm

During the height of the CHNV program, as Haiti suffered one of the most devastating brain drains in its history, Toussaint’s silence spoke volumes. Doctors, nurses, educators, and police officers—the very backbone of the nation’s fragile institutions—were fleeing en masse, lured by Biden’s policies and the promise of stability abroad. This mass exodus gutted Haiti’s capacity to care for its own people, leaving communities even more vulnerable to violence and collapse. At that pivotal moment, Pastor Gregory Toussaint could have used his platform, resources, and influence to mobilize a counter-effort: to rally the diaspora for Haiti’s renewal, to encourage retention of critical talent, or even to provide incentives for professionals to remain. Instead, he did nothing. Worse, he seemed to benefit from the crisis. With tens of thousands of Haitians resettling in Florida—many of them new arrivals desperate for spiritual and community anchors—his newly inaugurated $60 million mega-church swelled in attendance. While Haiti bled its best and brightest, Toussaint’s empire in Miami grew stronger.

A March That Moved Millions—Where Did They Go?

The 2023 “Souf pou Ayiti” march momentarily galvanized the Haitian world. Millions took to the streets in solidarity across major U.S. cities, promising fate-altering change for Haiti. Funds poured in from Haitians and sympathizers worldwide. Yet, despite the fanfare, there remains no visible trail of that money impacting Haiti today—no clinics built, no scholarships awarded on a meaningful scale, no tangible solutions in sight.

For a man with access to global donors, political capital, and top-tier media platforms, this lack of transparency is glaring. When power is acquired cheaply and wealth accumulates unhindered, moral accountability must follow. Yet over the past few weeks, Haitian social media has been flooded with posters celebrating Pastor Gregory Toussaint’s $50,000 “investment in education”—an initiative that aims to assist around 12 graduates in the diaspora. How sad. How inadequate. For someone who raised millions under the banner of saving Haiti, such a modest gesture feels more like public relations than true change. It underscores a troubling pattern: Toussaint has succeeded more in fundraising than in fund delivery—more in building an image than building a nation.

A Temple of Wealth, Not of Purpose

Money itself isn’t a sin. What matters is how it’s directed. The Tabernacle of Glory stands as a monument to ambition—but not necessarily service. Congregants are required to give not just their tithes (10%) but also mandatory offrandes—an additional financial burden that tilts the church from a spiritual refuge into a revenue generator.

We must ask: if millions were streamed into Toussaint’s church and campaigns, why didn’t infrastructure in Haiti—roads, hospitals, schools—move? Why didn’t the church intervene during mass violent episodes, forcibly displaced communities, or shutdown street violence? The answer isn’t unclear: Toussaint built wealth and empire, not relief or legacy.

When Fear Replaces Faith

At a time when Haitian immigrants were grappling with existential fear—especially under rising U.S. deportation policies—Toussaint preached caution. He spoke of protecting assets and distancing himself from “those going after immigrants with criminal records.” He kept focus away from solidarity.

Pastor Toussaint had both a moral platform and spiritual authority to stand up for the disenfranchised. But he clung to neutrality, blaming larger forces and opting out of public advocacy until it threatened his bottom line. If he had helped organize legal defense funds, or pressured U.S. politicians to protect vulnerable families, things could’ve been different. Instead, his silence spoke more than any sermon.

Community, Not Empire

Here lies the core of the argument: leadership isn’t measured by how high you build your temple, but by how many you lift up. Inside Toussaint’s halls, a congregation thrives—but outside, in Haiti and the diaspora, despair spreads untouched by his influence.

It’s one thing to preach salvation within gilded walls. It’s another to take salvation to the streets of Haiti—delivering safe water, supporting displaced families, funding school supplies, rescuing victims of violence, and provoking diplomatic intervention. He had the know-how, the capital, and the access. He chose empire over empathy.

The Silence That Echoes Loudest

The Haitian church must ask: Is faith simply a mechanism of extraction? Or is it a force for equitable transformation?

Toussaint’s stewardship seemed to echo his mantra: Do well so I can do even better. Meanwhile, Haiti continued to bleed, and those he taught to *“love thy neighbor”—from his Miami pulpit—never saw that love materialize.

Even today, with anxiety over immigrant rights in the U.S., Pastor Toussaint has shied away from unifying action—preferring to caution his congregation into caution and financial safety. He refused to lead a Haitian collective with legal teams or political lobbying. He didn’t call for immigration relief, refugee status petitions, or joint diaspora efforts. He remained apolitical and, in the eyes of many, complicit in that neutrality.

A Community Calls for Accountability

Leadership should be tested, not worshiped. Pastor Toussaint’s legacy depends on whether he stands by his investments and uses them to build rather than bank.

We challenge him:

• Open your books on “Souf pou Ayiti” revenues and expenses.

• Launch a diaspora-driven infrastructure campaign in Haiti—water, roads, safety nets.

• Mobilize legal protection funds as U.S. policy threatens immigrants.

• Stand publicly with Haitian advocacy groups in political lobbying.

To whom much is given, much is required. We demand action, not rhetoric.

Turning Wealth Into Welfare

Our diaspora wants leaders who sacrifice—who risk worldly comfort for national salvation. We don’t need more mega-churches; we need micro-community projects that save lives. We don’t need international clout; we need local impact.

Pastor Toussaint stands at a crossroad: will he reallocate his influence for grassroots empowerment, or retreat into empire preservation? Haiti’s hope, dignity, and future depend on his next move.

The Haitian Pulse Perspective

This editorial is a call to action. We do not despise Pastor Toussaint’s success—we challenge his priorities. We do not deny his influence—we question its application. Haiti needs not just growth, but governance of conscience.

The Haitian Pulse delivers fearless, diasporic perspectives that challenge corruption, expose opportunism, and amplify voices too often silenced. Our reporting bridges the gap between Haiti and its global diaspora, connecting local struggles to universal calls for justice, equity, and progress. Every story we publish is rooted in integrity and an unwavering commitment to a better future for Haiti and its people.

Tags: Haiti Leadership Accountability, Gregory Toussaint, Diaspora Stewardship, Faith & Finance, Haitian Community, Social Justice