Reclaiming Spirit in the Black Faith Tradition This Page Intentionally Left Blank Reclaiming Spirit in the Black Faith Tradition

Reclaiming Spirit in the Black Faith Tradition This page intentionally left blank Reclaiming Spirit in the Black Faith Tradition

First published in 2012 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN® in the United States— a division of St. Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

Where this book is distributed in the UK, Europe and the rest of the world, this is by Palgrave Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS.

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Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries. ISBN 978-1-349-44379-6 ISBN 978-1-137-26911-9 (eBook) DOI 10.1057/9781137269119 Library of Congress Cataloging- in- Publication Data

Hicks, Derek S. Reclaiming spirit in the Black faith tradition / Derek S. Hicks. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-349-44379-6 1. African Americans—Religion. 2. Black theology. I. Title.

BR563.N4H49 2012 230.089’96073— dc22 2012021461

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First edition: November 2012

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 For Sadie, Renae, Cheryl, Clarke, and Charli: my champions

In Memoriam Wilman Dean Sr., Albert Johnson, Wilman Dean Jr., and Lewis McGlothen: my fictive fathers This page intentionally left blank Contents

Acknowledgments ix Preface: On the Paradox of the Plantation Church xiii Introduction: Contemplating the Mechanics of Black Faith 1

I Wounding the Body 1 The Void 19 2 The Debasement Campaign 35 3 Politics and the Macabre Arena 63

II Reclaiming the Spirit 4 Self- Amending Notions of Black Faith 89 5 Toward a Hermeneutic of Reclamation in the Study of Black Faith 109 6 Curative Recalibration: The Function of Religion within Black Faith 135 7 Curative Recalibration in Action: Engaging Oppositional Language and Religion 149 Conclusion: Recalibrational Spirituality Cast on the Contemporary Scene 173 Notes 177 Bibliography 205 Index 221 This page intentionally left blank Acknowledgments

Producing this book was not a solo effort. A multitude of mentors, col- leagues, family, friends, funding organizations, and institutions offered me a safe space to see this work to publication. In a considerable way this work grew out of conversations shared with my grandmother, Sadie L. Dean, on our front porch in South-Central Los Angeles. In her position as a graceful and wise sage, my grandmother both exemplified and witnessed black faith at its best. Many an evening I would listen as she offered from her deep heart. Her steady encouragement invigorated me to complete this book. She continues to represent all that is good, pure, and possible in a world determined to wound or undermine. I salute and thank her for extending to me a love supreme. A celebrated group of scholars shepherded the earliest version of this project while I was a doctoral student in Rice University’s Religious Stud- ies Department. My advisor, Dr. Anthony B. Pinn, extended unmatched and uncommon generosity. I cannot fully express my appreciation for what he has sewn into my life. I will simply say, “Thank you, sir,” as I so often do. Dr. John B. Boles continues to offer generous support for my interdisciplinary approach to the study of American religious history. Dr. Michael Emerson has been a supportive sounding board for my approach to this study from a sociocultural standpoint. And Dr. Elias Bongmba has been both an invaluable resource and a calming force for me throughout this process. His insights on hermeneutics and the study of religion in general are unmatched. I would also like to thank others in Rice’s Reli- gious Studies Department. Drs. David Cook, April DeConick, Matthias Henze, Gregory Kaplan, William Parsons, John Stroup, and especially Jeffrey J. Kripal have been helpful in immeasurable ways. I would also like to thank Drs. Roland Smith, Alex Byrd, Edward Cox, Holly Heard, Jenifer Bratter, and Caroline Levander for their generous attention to my work. Thank you as well to my department mother, Mrs. Sylvia Louie, as well as to Minranda Robinson- Davis and Maya Reine. I have had the opportunity to engage an exceptional group of graduate students at Rice University. I first and foremost thank my “academic big brother,” Dr. Torin Alexander. Torin’s keen ability to show me my intellectual blind spots and his gift of wise counsel enhanced my graduate school experience. Thank you to Margarita Simon-Guillory for her x Acknowledgments genuine support and positivity. Thank you as well to Paul Easterling, Terri Laws, Jonathan Chism, and the brilliant current members of the African American religions cohort. I also extend gratitude to former and current Rice graduate students Andrea Jain, Ann Gleig, Matt Schunke, Bob Erlewine, Molly Robey, Barrye Brown, Rusty Hawkins, Jennifer Jamison, and Nessette Falu. Appreciation goes to Mark G. Little, who remains among my closest friends from Rice. I would like to acknowledge a great community of scholars who have in some way encouraged me during the fashioning of this project. Ter- rence Johnson, James Logan, Shayne Lee, Monica Coleman, Wallace Best, Josef Sorett, J. Kameron Carter, Jonathan Walton, Stephen Ray, Lerone Martin, Monica Miller, Ezekiel Dixon-Roman, Gregory C. Elli- son II, Pastor Ray Owens, France Brown, Gaye Theresa Johnson, Carl- ton “Chuck D” Douglas Ridenhour, Rhonda Gonzalez, Jason Shelton, Tamura Lomax, Keri Day, Neichelle Guidry-Jones, Phil Sinitiere, Israel Loken, Doug Anthony, Valerie Bridgeman, Jim Siburt, Bruce Epperly, Michael Pinn, David Kim, Ben Sanders III, Sylvester Johnson, Vin- cent Lloyd, Rudy Busto, Melanie Harris, Marla Frederick, Ronald Neal, Lerhonda Manigault-Bryant, E. L. Kornegay Jr., Veronice Miles, Pastor Angela Yarber, Michelle Voss-Roberts, John Senior, Clinton Moyer, Jer- rod Whitaker, Mary Foskett, Lynn Neal, and Simeon Ilesanmi have all shared insights, made helpful suggestions, or in some way motivated me along the way. A special thanks goes to Catherine Albanese for her helpful attention to this project and to Stephanie Vaccaro for her editing help on several chapters. I am extremely grateful to artist Vonn Sumner, whose painting graces the cover of this book. His ability to express my vision through his art was masterful. This book would not exist were it not for the support of Burke Gerstenschlager, editor at Palgrave Macmillan, who was able to see the value in this disciplinary mutt of a project. I have had the great fortune to work with supportive people at several institutions along this journey. Thank you to the Lancaster Theo- logical Seminary family, notably former president Riess Potterveld, who extended limitless support to my family and me, as well as to Dean Edwin Aponte for consistently pushing me toward greater heights. My ability to complete this book was made easier by a visiting appointment at the University of Pennsylvania. In particular I extend gratitude to Camille Zubrinsky Charles, director of the Center for African Studies. Thank you to John L. Jackson Jr. for close and sensitive reads of much of this work. Among the community of UPenn scholars and staff I also thank Anthea Butler, Deborah Thomas, Guthrey “Guy” Ramsey Jr., Tukufu Zuberi, Tanji Gilliam, Karlene Burrell McRae (now at Swarthmore College), and Acknowledgments xi

Daina Richie. My appointment as the Henry Luce Diversity Fellow at the Wake Forest University School of Divinity gave me the much needed space to finish this book. I am grateful to the dean, Gail O’Day, for pushing me to get this project finished. A special thanks goes to Bill Leonard and Barbee Oakes for their ever-positive presence. I would not have been able to complete this work without the generous support of several granting institutions. From the Ford Foundation I was awarded predoctoral and dissertation fellowships, both of which kept me afloat during the lean times of graduate student life. To the Fund for Theological Education I extend appreciation, especially to Matt Wil- liams, director of fellowship programs, for being a brother in the struggle. Thank you as well to Stephen Lewis, the fund’s president. Finally, I salute Dr. Sharon Watson Fluker for nurturing and finding money for so many of us during her time as director of fellowship programs. Most recently, the Louisville Institute First Book Grant gave me much needed space and time to revise, rewrite, and add new portions to this work. Sincere thanks goes to Jim Lewis and Suzanne Case for their stellar work. A multitude of friends outside of the academy have also shaped me. Accordingly, I acknowledge and thank Cardiaz McGlothen, my other mother Ida McGlothen, James and Lekesha Swindell, Robby Owens, Ricky Owens, Rodney Thomas, Kevin Walker, Percy McCreigh, Kathy Brown, Romey and Dominica Johnson, Demetris Reed, Pastor Charles Brooks, Al Germain, Marc Little, Kessa Keyes, and Uncle Ed and Aunty Iris and the family. Thank you to Emily Kemper for reading the earliest and roughest versions of this project. Unique love and support was extended to me from the Rayford, Titus, Lampkins, Willis, Loritts, Earl, Shields, Sumner, Beckham, Goodloe, Quick, and French families. Appre- ciation is also extended to Southampton Montessori in Houston for their assistance during the early days of this project. I am also encouraged by the support of several pastors and ministry leaders. Thank you to Pastor Bryan Loritts, Bishop Kenneth Ulmer, Pastor T. R. Williams, Rev. Kesha Barnett, Pastor Marcus Cosby, Pastor William A. Lawson, and Mrs. Audrey Lawson for their impactful ministries. A note of gratitude goes to several churches in Winston- Salem, NC: United Metropolitan Baptist Church, Emmanuel Baptist Church, St. Paul United Methodist Church, and First Baptist Highland. This task could not have been completed without the love and support of my family. My mother, Renae Dean, nurtured my inquisitive spirit and believes in me without question. I remain motivated by her unfettered love. Thanks also to Tracy, Mel, and the kids. Loving family members who have been there from the beginning include Louis James and Jaunita xii Acknowledgments

Wright. My in- laws, Mr. and Mrs. Charles and Alberta Rencher, have been exceptionally generous. Without their many sacrifices, we would not have made it. I thank and cherish them. Appreciation and affection goes to my sister- in-law Toni and her husband, Quinton Wallace. Early reflections on this project took place at the kitchen table of James and Sheila Griffin. I credit Sheila for lighting a spark that finally encouraged me to pursue PhD study through our conversations about politics, religion, culture, and Cornel West’s Race Matters. I reserve the deepest appreciation for my wonderful Hicks clan— Cheryl, Clarke, Charli, and Henderson. You all are the reason I am able to do what I do. To my big girl, Clarke, your ability to understand what daddy had to do and your willingness to sacrifice our time together without complaint stands as the quality of your character I will forever admire. You are my beautiful big girl! Charli, my baby girl, seems to know just how to make me laugh when I need it most. You encourage daddy’s work with a smile every day! To my son, Henderson: great joy and nervous anticipation mark each new day I get to know you. Your mere presence forces me to excavate a better version of myself to model for you. Finally, I salute my wife, Cheryl Jamila Hicks, for her endurance as I labored to finish this book. With every attempt at understanding why this book needed so much revision, Cheryl extended selfless support of it. At different times she has functioned as sounding board, consultant, and spirit reclaimer. Her equal portion of beauty, toughness, and patience kept me motivated to complete this book. I cherish her for seeing my needs and encouraging me to give my best. She is my stalwart champion and love! Preface

On the Paradox of the Plantation Church

From many a plantation they would come, strolling past poplar trees and sprawling cotton fields, with their heads held high. Whether beckoned or forced by their master, or simply out of Christian obligation, enslaved blacks would travel to a local plantation church for integrated Sunday worship with whites. Dressed in their Sunday best, one might find ladies in homespun dresses or, if it was all they had, pantaloons. Most often their heads were covered in turbans, but if they had a hat it would serve as a crown exhibiting their grandeur. Men would make the journey as gentlemen, their dusty topcoats, secondhand knickers, and handmade straw hats reframing bodies broken by hard labor. Enslaved blacks would negotiate the journey to the plantation church in style and elegance. With dignity they would pass by other plantations, some grandiose off in the distance, others smaller along the roadside, en route to a single place of worship. They planned to fellowship with friends and loved ones from other plantations. Children would kick up the dust of the journey; moth- ers would demand Sunday morning composure. Women reflected on a week of ups and downs, of weeping and crying out, of loving and caring, and of lamenting and finding ways to express and instill hope. Men physi- cally burdened by slavery’s demands fought through the pain of physical maltreatment to walk upright and straight- backed. For many of the men this weekly journey was done barefoot, as they would carry their newly shined shoes in hand rather than arrive at church with dusty shoes. What motivated enslaved blacks to attend the integrated plantation church cannot easily be explained in terms of duty, Christian obligation, or force. The commingling of slaves with masters and mistresses in the antebellum Christian church may in fact point to another reality altogether—that in some instances slaves desired to be a part of plantation church worship. Within a broader society that mandated subordi- nation of blacks to whites, these integrated churches often provided for slaves and masters temporary interludes of symbolic equality, which could be found in various aspects of congregational life.1 One may infer such xiv Preface an idea when reading the letter sent to Virginia planter and agriculturalist John H. Cocke by one of his slaves, Lucy Skipwith. In a rather endearing and expressive letter written in 1858, Lucy gives a report on the plantation to her master while he is away. On the subject of the integrated church housed at the plantation, she reports of the worship and the new plantation preacher: “The Chappel is in a much better state than it was . . . the people from all the plantations turns out most willingly to hear him and when he calls sinners to the Alter they comes in crowds. There has been several conversions since he took place.”2 In this brief exchange Lucy expresses with excitement the impact of the plantation church experience from the enslaved person’s perspective. That it impacted enslaved people positively at all may be up for debate. Often as members of white-led churches, slaves could expect to be welcomed in a courteous fashion. In fact, enslaved blacks, as long as they were members in good standing, were given the same benefits of church membership as white parishioners. As Southern religious historian John Boles explains, in these churches “black men and women found persua- sive reason to live as morally responsible adults, discovered arenas for the practice of black leadership, and experienced a far greater degree of equality with the surrounding whites than anywhere else in southern society.”3 Conversely, the fleeting social gains enslaved blacks enjoyed in white- led plantation churches did little to improve their lowly day-in, day-out social status. This lower- class status eventually set the tone for white- black exchanges within the plantation church.4 For instance, slaves could not be involved in the disciplining of whites for sinful indiscretions.5 Enslaved blacks were often the majority of the church in numbers, but were gener- ally relegated to segregated benches at the rear of the church, a front “gal- lery” section, or to the balcony What emerged were biblical perspectives that bolstered white claims of superiority and led many enslaved blacks to seek solace in their own “invisible” religious meetings. In truth, few historical arrangements better exemplify the paradoxical dichotomy of North American Christian history than these “integrated” antebellum plantation churches. Invariably, each side brought with them to the church an idea that God had their best interests at heart. Some plantation missionaries held that a common social starting point existed between the bondsman and the free in the eyes of God. The intense emphasis on conversion, which was the primary characteristic of evangeli- cal, revivalist Protestantism, tended to level all people before God simply as sinners in need of salvation.6 While this emphasis strengthened the interest of black enslaved converts, it spoke little to their inhumane treat- ment within the plantation system. Preface xv

Even if the enslaved were spiritually fed by the content of the white preacher’s sermon, most often the down-putting teaching style failed to meet the spiritual needs of the black bond servant. Slaves also felt con- tempt for the self- serving motives of the white plantation preachers. More important to them was the remainder of the service, after the sermon, when they could fellowship with the other black congregants.7 Despite the strongly established social control within the plantation church set- ting, among themselves slaves were able to share a more complete (if rudimentary) picture of the gospel, which engendered hope for a degree of spiritual and social fulfillment. Still, to assume that spiritual fulfillment within these integrated spaces solely identified the atmosphere of the plantation church would be to miss the complete picture. Theological contradictions were plentiful within antebellum plantation churches. In one sense white plantation preachers touted an evangeli- cal concern for the well-being and the souls of enslaved blacks. Yet planters were faced with a dilemma: whether or not converting slaves to Christian- ity was worthwhile or advantageous. Emphasizing potential advantages of slave conversion was Bishop Francis Asbury, who in 1798 claimed to have a pained mind at the thought of slavery. Asbury himself felt “enslaved” by the institution although born white and free. Eleven years later, lamenting the lack of progress made by Methodists to evangelize slaves, and in part because of the Methodists’ supposed antislavery reputation, Asbury sought to reconcile his internal confliction by emphasizing the meritori- ous results of conversion on the enslaved. He stated, “Our tabernacle is crowded again; the minds of the people are strangely changed, and the indignation excited against us is overpast. The people see and confess that the slaves are made better by religion; and wonder to hear the poor Africans pray and exhort.”8 What may be drawn from Asbury’s refection is that many white evangelicals who initially disagreed with slavery as an institution found themselves defending conversion of the enslaved for the purpose of making them more serviceable to the plantation. This notion was easily transposed to making them “better slaves.”9 In 1834 Charles Colcock Jones explains why more plantation missions and churches needed to be established straightaway:

It is true they [slaves] have access to the house of God on the Sabbath; but it is also true that even where the privilege is within their reach, a minority only (and frequently a very small one) embrace it. There are multitudes of districts in the South and Southwest, in which the churches cannot contain one- tenth of the Negro population; besides others in which there are no churches at all. It must be remembered also that in many of those churches there is preaching only once a fortnight, or once a month, and xvi Preface

then perhaps only one sermon. To say that they fare as well as their masters does not settle the point; for great numbers of masters have very few to no religious privileges at all.10

Carrying the gospel to enslaved Africans and African Americans became a necessity for missionaries. They labored in partnership with planters who may normally have had a passive stance on the matter. The desire for an improved overall slave population influenced missionary efforts. Accord- ing to Jones, “[t]he direct preaching of ministers to the Negroes is well, and is a great benefit.”11 Connected to this claim were paternalistic notions about the value of biblical instruction to slaves who lacked the full ability to comprehend the sermon: “[T]he number [of slaves who benefit from white preaching] . . . is far smaller than it should be. The ordinary preaching to the whites makes little impression upon the blacks, being above their compre- hension and not made applicable to them. Hence their stupid looks, their indifferent staring, their profound sleeps, and their thin attendance.”12 Notwithstanding the fact that Jones seems to hastily conclude that the slaves’ general lack of intellectual capacity was the problem plaguing plantation church preaching, the more significant issue at play is the paternalistic governance Jones employed. In reality, planters and missionaries alike considered themselves ultimate authorities on matters of slave religious conversion. Many whites were unequivocally certain in their belief that God had created them superior to those of African origin.13 Simple matters of the employed methodology in slave conversion underscore this sense of an inherently bestowed superiority. This form of “white” self- consideration and esteem was pervasive. Former Georgia slave Benjamin Johnson offers the following perspective on this form of supremacist preaching and the potential for dire consequences for slave disobedience: “At church all de white folks would sit in de front an’ all de slaves would sit in de back. De preacher would preach an’ say: ‘Obey yo’ master an’ yo’ missus an’ you will always do right . . . If you don’t do dis she [the Missus] will needle you well or break bark over yo’ head an’ de bad man will git you.”14 Quite evident from this account is the fact that the punishment of the enslaved was tied to the autonomous control of whites over blacks. What is more, decisions on whether or even to what extent to punish slaves were arbi- trary. Without question, random and potentially unjustified punishment produced a sense of terror and dread in the slave. Within the plantation churches’ social dynamic, whites liberally exercised their ultimate power and authority. Antebellum Protestantism attempted to remake the African American subject into a reference point, wherein blackness Preface xvii was equated with evil and dirtiness and whereby whiteness could assume superior aesthetics—an angelic cleanliness conveying sacred substance.15 This type of social structure had a dynamic effect on slave and enslaver alike. Theologically reasoned, God created whites to have the privilege of defining and exercising the power of the final word over black people.16 The establishment of the central authority given by the Divine to whites became the most important tool for indoctrinating slaves and, as a result, getting the most out of them. Evidence of a whites-as- ultimate- authority identity is expressed in an account from former slave Isaac John- son as he reflected on a Sunday morning lecture given to him and his fellow slaves by his master:

You [slaves] must not think hard of me for telling you the truth about yourselves and the Whites. The great God above has made you for the benefit of the Whiteman, who is your law maker and law giver. Whenever you disobey his commands you must expect punishment . . . You must understand that you are just the same as the ox, horse, or mule, made for the use of the Whiteman and for no other purpose. You must do as the Whiteman tells you, if you do not he will punish you just the same as he would the mule when he breaks him . . . If you don’t do what is right by me, why, my duty is to kill you just as I tell you to kill the mule if he doesn’t do what is right. There is no more harm in me killing you than there is in you killing a mule . . . That is the law that you must go by.17

What this line of reasoning also reveals is the extent to which whites would subvert God, placing divine attributes upon themselves. In this sense, the word of the master on earth replaced the authority of the Mas- ter in heaven.18 Nonetheless, converted slaves in some ways experienced (albeit trun- cated) equality with their enslavers within the plantation church structure. Even if a benevolent God failed to manumit suffering black believers straightaway upon conversion, blacks found something of substance in the plantation church and the Christian faith in general. However, we should be cautious not to conclude a one- sided experience of power within plantation churches. If in fact the pronouncements of white plantation preachers were solely meant to maintain planter class authority, then it would logically follow that enslaved blacks would have found ways to remain absent from Sunday worship. In reality the Christianity of the Old South belonged equally to whites and blacks.19 Southern Christianity in antebellum America was a slaveholder’s religion, but also a slave’s religion. The plantation church, however unintentionally, became the place where these cultures comingled even among conflicting motivations. xviii Preface

The blending of the moral imperatives and socioreligious motivations becomes the nature of exchange within the plantation church and sets the tone for the investigation that follows. Consider, for instance, this former slave’s account of a white plantation preacher’s prayer: “He got down and in a powerful trembling voice called on God. The one thing he said that I never forget was, ‘Righteous God of all, remember the poor ignorant helpless slaves.’ I don’t know why this stayed with me unless it opened my eyes to my condition.”20 The resulting reflection on his lot in life caused this former slave to open his eyes and kindled a desire to question his status as a slave. His lower social status seemed to him inconsistent with God’s desire for his life. Another former slave resolved that “God works his wonders, not in one man— nor in any particular set of men— but in ALL, unobservant of clime and color.”21 If God does this for the least of these, then those who are oppressed are able to make claims about God’s sustaining love and care for them. As a microcosm of North American Christian culture and history, the plantation church is foundational to this study. From here Reclaiming Spirit exposes the complexities and messiness of the Christian tradition in the United States. While the reasons why slaves would of their own accord attend a plantation church remain unresolved, so too does the fact that they would convert to Christianity in the first place. In the pages that follow, we will evaluate black- white countering conceptions of God and how these dueling conceptions affect the nature and function of Chris- tianity among a people who faced many faith paradoxes. In so doing we appraise the transformational components of religion for those with little sociopolitical capital. Ultimately, we will consider what emboldened them to make definitive claims about the promises of God while navigat- ing the everyday absurdities of enslavement.