For generations, New York’s faith communities have stood as first responders to the human spirit. In sanctuaries, fellowship halls, and basement meeting rooms, neighbors have found refuge. They have turned to clergy not only for prayer but for counsel, for comfort, for the kind of care that sees the whole person. This sacred work rests on trust, the trust that what is spoken in confidence will remain in confidence, and that dignity will be honored without judgment.
Privacy, let us be clear, is not merely a legal matter. It is a moral covenant. Every child of God deserves assurance that the tender places of their lives will be protected — whether they seek help from a physician, therapist, pastor, rabbi, imam or other spiritual adviser.
That is why I affirm the original intent behind S929. In the wake of the Supreme Court’s Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization decision in 2022 — which overturned Roe v. Wade and stripped away federal protections for reproductive rights — advocates rightly raised alarms about how digital data could be weaponized against people seeking care. S929 was introduced in the 2025–2026 legislative session to expand protections for health-related data collected outside HIPAA’s reach. Its goal was righteous: to stop tech platforms, retailers, and other non-medical entities from turning private struggles into public commodities. But good intentions, however noble, are not enough.
The legislative process was unusually swift. S929 was introduced and passed by both chambers on January 22, 2025, then delivered to Gov. Kathy Hochul without public hearings or extended stakeholder input. Unlike Washington State’s My Health My Data Act, which took months of testimony from privacy experts, reproductive justice advocates, and community organizations, New York’s bill advanced without a comparable deliberative process. That speed left clergy, nonprofits, and small providers without a voice.
My brothers and sisters, let us tell the truth plainly: S929, though clothed in good intention, carries a burden that falls heavy on the shoulders of faith leaders across New York State.
It stretches too wide. The bill defines “regulated health information” so broadly that even sacred conversations between pastor and parishioner, imam and congregant, rabbi and seeker could be swept into the net. What was once holy counsel risks being treated like corporate data.
It shields the powerful but exposes the humble. Hospitals and clinics, covered under HIPAA, are given special exemptions.
But the storefront church, the mosque on the corner, the synagogue basement — those places where the brokenhearted first turn — are left vulnerable.
It completely threatens the covenant of trust. Imagine a mother, weary from postpartum depression, emailing her pastor’s office. She speaks because she feels safe, unjudged, and embraced. If that pastor must now fear her words are a regulated disclosure, the sacred trust between shepherd and flock is fractured. It drains the lifeblood of small congregations.
Compliance costs, legal reviews, data systems are burdens small churches cannot bear. Resources meant for feeding the hungry, comforting the grieving, and guiding the lost would be siphoned into bureaucracy.
It silences the first responders of the soul. In immigrant communities, in low-income neighborhoods, among the marginalized, clergy are often the only lifeline. If fear of regulation muzzles their ministry, the most vulnerable lose their refuge.
These burdens are not theoretical. Industry analyses of S929 show compliance costs ranging from tens of thousands for small nonprofits to millions for large institutions. Retail chains and transit agencies may absorb such costs. But small congregations, already stretched thin, would be forced to divert scarce resources from ministry to compliance.
Hear me now: S929, as written, risks turning faith leaders into data clerks instead of spiritual caregivers. It risks breaking the sacred covenant of trust, burdening small congregations, and cutting off lifelines to those who need them most. Albany must not confuse the work of the Spirit with the work of data processors. Protect privacy, yes. But do not punish the very communities that cradle the brokenhearted.
That is why I call upon the governor to veto S929 in its current form. Only then can we honor the bill’s original vision — protecting New Yorkers from exploitation in the post-Dobbs era — while safeguarding the faith and community organizations that serve them.
New Yorkers deserve both privacy and community. They deserve protection for their sensitive information and access to trusted spaces where they can seek help without hesitation. Albany must take the time to get this right. Protect privacy. Protect community. Protect the dignity of every soul who walks through our doors seeking support.
Governor, do right by the people. Veto this bill. Stop regulating compassion.
Bishop Johnny Ray Youngblood is the executive pastor and spiritual engineer of Mt. Pisgah Baptist Church in Jamaica, NY, where he is known for visionary leadership, community-centered ministry, and an innovative approach to spiritual formation.