The Theologies of Black Folk in North America: Presidential Address to the American Theological Society,March,2012

The Invisible Theology of Enslaved Africans

Now, the black churches had been invisible to white America for almost a century following emancipation. Born in the cauldron of slavery their founders considered it necessary to conceal their religious practices from their oppressors as they had done in an earlier period with the religious beliefs and practices they had brought with them from Africa and were forbidden to practice. At this time, they had an even greater need to conceal their practice because they were developing in those secret spaces an understanding of God and of humanity that radically differed from that of their owners. In other words, they had begun to construct an alternative understanding of their slave owners’ Christianity. Needless to say, perhaps, this activity was an altogether radical and dangerous undertaking.

In the early days of the trans-Atlantic slave trade most of the traders and the owners believed that Africans were subhumans and had no souls. Thus, there was no need to try to convert them to Christianity. Long after that anthropology was modified, however, most slave owners continued to deny white evangelists permission to preach to their slaves less they think that a common baptism implied equality of civil status or be motivated to demand such. Thus, it was not until those fears had been minimized by legal enactments that some owners permitted their slaves to hear the Gospel proclaimed either by their hired preachers or sometimes by a trusted slave who would preach in the presence of the owner or his appointed representative.

Since the enslaved Africans were never able to muster any reasonable amount of respect for the Christianity promulgated by their slave owners’ preachers, it took them a very long while to develop any desire for Christian conversion. Since Africans probably caught their first glimpse of the name “Jesus” in 1562 when they saw the words “The Good Ship Jesus” emblazoned on the hull of a British slave ship bringing its first cargo of enslaved Africans from Sierra Leone to the Dominican Republic, that fact alone should make it obvious why they would have no interest in converting to Christianity.

While undergoing the brutal experiences of chattel slavery the only source of hope that the Africans had lay in their familial and tribal ancestors whom they believed interceded with their God to effect freedom and the restoration of personal dignity and communal belonging. Those who had the privilege to attend their slave owners’ churches sometimes caught a glimpse of such a vision in the teaching and personality of Jesus of Nazareth as they heard their owners’ preachers proclaim him the savior of the world. Since the only savior for them would be one who could set them free from their bondage, they saw no such salvation in the preaching of anyone who viewed God’s will as synonymous with that of their slave owners. Unwilling, therefore, to accept any word from their slave owners’ preachers as truth, some began rethinking the stories about Jesus in their own secret meeting places.

In due course, these enslaved Africans discovered an immense difference between the religion of their slave owners and many of the biblical stories about God and God’s son Jesus. After discerning that the God who brought Jesus into the world was the same God who had called Moses to challenge the Pharaoh in Egypt to set his people free from slavery, the basis for a new hope began to take root in their minds and souls. Gradually, they discovered many other things about Jesus with which they could easily identify, including the following: that Jesus had been born into a working-class family and while he was still an infant his parents were forced to seek refuge in a minority immigrant community in Egypt; that Jesus began his ministry by accepting for himself the vocation of the prophet Isaiah to preach good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and to set at liberty those who were oppressed (Isa 60:1; Luke 4:18); and that he was betrayed by his own people, captured, accused of sedition, tortured, and sentenced to death by the colonial ruler by crucifixion, the most tortuous method of the day.

Thus, they soon identified with Jesus completely, empathized with his suffering, rejoiced over his rising from the dead, and viewed him as their divine friend who would always protect them. As they began viewing the Bible through these lenses they gradually embraced Jesus as their savior and placed their hope in the heavenly vision he proclaimed: the vision of an alternative world where God’s love would be all pervasive and everybody would be delivered from their sufferings and treated with dignity, respect, and fairness. While their slave owners viewed heaven as a reward to be earned after death, enslaved Africans soon added to that understanding a view of heaven as a symbol of social criticism on the immoral practices of slavery.

Like the Israelites, many blacks soon came to view themselves as God’s chosen people called to be God’s special representatives of love and justice to God’s wayward people, including their oppressors.

Thus the contrast between the Christianity of their slave owners and that of the enslaved Africans is seen vividly in their respective understandings of God. On the one hand, these suffering Africans viewed Jesus as one who proclaimed a message concerning the God of truth, freedom, love, hope, and justice who had commissioned him to usher in what he called “the Kingdom of God” wherein all things would be restored to their original state of wholeness. On the other hand, the slave owners’ preachers proclaimed a God who had created whites as a superior race destined to own and control the inferior race of African peoples by treating them with impunity. We can readily see why the enslaved Africans would prefer the message of Jesus to that of their slave owners’ preachers. The former contained the good news of freedom: the substance of their hopes and dreams. The latter provided divine sanction for their oppression.

Now, it is important to emphasize that the enslaved Africans did not merely become Christians by embracing their owners’ religion. Rather, led by the Spirit of the Jesus whom they encountered in the Bible they refashioned an alternative to slave-owning Christianity by finding within the Bible salvific resources with which to address their needs. Accordingly, little by little they discovered many biblical principles, stories, events, icons, prayers, meditations, and symbols that enabled them to construct an understanding of Jesus Christ as their spiritual ancestor which, as implied above, is the highest honor that Africans can bestow on humans in gratitude and reverence for the goodness they had bequeathed to their people during their lifetime. Thus a covenant occurred. The people resolved to keep the memory of their ancestors alive with regular devotions in return for their intercessions with God on their behalf. This covenant with Jesus Christ as ancestor took precedence over all their other ancestral covenants and it was renewed each time the people ended their prayers with the words, “in the name of Jesus Christ, we pray. Amen.”

In short, this band of illiterate enslaved African Christians, meeting secretly in the hush harbors, gave birth to the “invisible enslaved African church” which remained a hidden reality for a very long while. It was in those meetings where they comforted one another by praying, testifying, preaching, and composing and singing their songs of faith that we now call the “spirituals.” Through the oral tradition they wrote this revised Christian Gospel on their hearts and passed it on through song to succeeding generations. They created their songs by adapting the various rhythmic patterns of African music to lyrics that expressed biblical messages of hope, trust, freedom, mercy, love, and fairness as contained in the Gospel of Jesus Christ which they viewed as deeply embedded in the deliverance of the Israelites from their bondage. This revised Gospel coincided with their hopes for freedom, which were reinforced whenever they sang about their God who they believed would do for them what God had done for the Israelites. Thus, they composed what has become one of the most beloved songs of the ages:

Go down Moses, way down in egypt’s land,

Tell’old Pharaoh, to let my people go.

When israel was in Egypt’s land, let my people go,

Oppressed so hard, they could not stand, let my people go.

Similarly, their faith in a God who would comfort them in their suffering was expressed in another song inspired by Jeremiah’s spiritually depressed cry, “Is there no balm in Gilead?” According to the theologian Howard Thurman, “The slave caught the mood of this spiritual dilemma, and with it did an amazing thing. He straightened the question mark in Jeremiah’s sentence into an exclamation point: ‘There Is a balm in Gilead!’ Here is a note of creative triumph.” ³

There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole.

There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul.

Clearly their songs of faith did not focus exclusively on the triumphal event of the afterlife but also on the relation between that finale and their present strivings for freedom. In other words, they also sang about the ethics implied by their theology. Since it was often necessary to conceal the ethics, some of the songs had double meanings: one for the ears of the slaves and the other for the ears of their owners. Thus, in somber tones they sang,

Steal away; steal away,

Steal away to Jesus.

Steal away, steal away home,

I ain’t got long to stay here.

Some might have thought that the slaves were singing only about their mortality. But, they may have been singing also about a plan to escape. Such double entendre helped to keep alive their spirit of resistance. In other words, the slaves discerned no disjunction between their religious strivings and their daily needs. Similarly, the song, “Wade in the water, wade in the water children, / Wade in the water, God’s gonna’ trouble the waters.” Once again the slave owners might have thought they were singing about baptism, a song that is still sung at many Baptist baptism ceremonies. But they may also have been singing about crossing the Ohio River or even crossing over into Canada via the underground railroad.

And as a not so subtle criticism of their slave owners’ beliefs that heaven was racially segregated, they sang,

I’ve got shoes, you got shoes,

All God’s chil’un got shoes,

When i get to heaven gonna put on my shoes,

And walk all ober God’s heaven.

And with a gentle nod to the slave owners they sang the refrain,

Heaben, heaben,

Everybody talkin’ about heaben ain’t a gonna there,

Heaben, heaben,

Gonna walk all ober God’s heaben.

And the stanzas that speak about having a robe and a crown when we get to heaven, clearly signify their human dignity as recognized by their creator God if not by their oppressors.

Since the depth and breadth of their suffering was so traumatic and expansive Jesus was their only source of comfort and trust. And so they sang,

I want Jesus to walk with me;

I want Jesus to walk with me;

All along my pilgrim journey,

I want Jesus to walk with me;

In my trials lord, walk with me.

In my trials lord, walk with me.

All along my pilgrim journey,

I want Jesus to walk with me.

Analyses of over 600 spirituals reveal an astounding diversity in content and form; rhythm and mood. There are songs of immense pathos like “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child” or “Nobody knows the trouble I see, / nobody knows my sorrow. / Nobody knows the trouble I see, / Glory Hallelujah.” Songs of joy like “Walk together Children” or “Git on Board Little chillen, There’s room for plenty a mo’.” Songs of excitement like “Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho, Jericho, Jericho, And the Walls Came Tumblin’ down.” Songs with a soft lull like, “Swing low Sweet Chariot, Coming for to carry me home.” Songs of sadness like, “My Lord What a Morning, My Lord What a morning, When the sun refused to shine.” Songs of spiritual confidence like, “I’m satisfied; I’m satisfied; King Jesus standin’ by my side, Lord I’m satisfied.”

Some of the most beloved of these spirituals spoke about Christ’s suffering and death, which were also very common experiences for enslaved Africans. The following has become a great Easter hymn that is sung today around the world:

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Were you there when they crucified my lord? …

Were you there when they hanged him on the tree?

Were you there when they hanged him on the tree? …

Were you there when the sun refused to shine?

Were you there when the sun refused to shine? …

Were you there when they laid him in the grave?

Were you there when they laid him in the grave? …

Were you there when he rose up from the grave?

Were you there when he rose up from the grave? …

And after each verse, the singers repeat the moving refrain of personal empathy:

Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble,

Where you there when they crucified my lord.

In their secret gatherings they also composed that great call to the Lord’s supper which is the central ritual of remembering Christ’s suffering, death, and resurrection.

Let us break bread together, on our knees,

Let us break bread together, on our knees.

When i fall on my knees,

With my eyes to the risin’ sun,

O lord, have mercy on me.

Let us drink wine together on our knees,

Let us drink wine together on our knees,

When i fall on my knees,

With my eyes to the risin’ sun,

O lord, have mercy on me.

Let us praise god together on our knees,

Let us praise god together on our knees,

When i fall on my knees,

With my eyes to the risin’ sun,

O lord, have mercy on me.

While the story of the Christ’s suffering, death, and resurrection occur often in the spirituals, very few deal with his birth for reasons that are unknown. Nonetheless, among the few are these:

Mary had a baby, yes Lord,

Mary had a baby, yes Lord,

What did she name him, my Lord?

What did she name him, my Lord?

She named him king Jesus, my Lord.

She named him king, Jesus, my Lord.

We can only imagine how empowering that song must have been for young women who also must have dreamed about giving birth one day to a savior whom they would name themselves as Mary had done with no patriarchal involvement whatsoever.

Another such song was this one:

Go tell it on the mountain,

Over the hills and every where,

Go tell it on the mountain,

That Jesus Christ is born.

There were also songs declaring the need for prayer:

It’s me, it’s me, it’s me, O Lord,

Standing in the need of prayer;

It’s me, it’s me O Lord,

Standing in the need of prayer;

Tain’t my mother or my father, but it’s me O Lord,

Standing in the need of prayer;

Tain’t the preacher or the deacon, but it’s me O Lord,

Standing in the need of prayer …

No spiritual represents the call to evangelism more than this one:

Somebody’s knockin’ at your door,

Somebody’s knockin’ at your door,

Oh sinner, why don’t you answer,

Somebody’s knockin’ at your door.

The spirituals also speak about God as deliverer:

Didn’t my Lord deliver Daniel, Daniel, Daniel,

Didn’t my Lord deliver Daniel,

Then why not everyman.

Undoubtedly, the spirituals are community songs in their origin, content, and performance. As such they reveal the centrality of community in the African experience before, during, and after slavery. Thus, in that regard also, the black churches manifest continuity with traditional familial and communal life in Africa.

In their churches (invisible to their slave owners though deliberately concealed by the slaves themselves) enslaved Africans radically revised the Christianity of their slave owners by embracing the ethic of inclusion and never practicing racism. In fact, black churches have been the only institutions in America with a non-racist history and that constitutes their uniqueness on the American landscape.

Though blacks suffered greatly for two-and-a-half centuries of slavery followed by another century of second-class citizenship, they were always more than mere victims. As a matter of fact, they overcame their suffering by striving to be like Jesus. Thus, they developed a legacy of love and goodwill not for what America was but for what it could become. Thus, they composed the song,

Lord I want to be a Christian, in’a my soul, in’a my soul.

Lord I want to be a Christian, in’a my soul.

Lord, I want to be more loving, in’a my soul; in’a my soul.

Lord, I want to be more loving, in’a my soul.

Lord, I want to be like Jesus, in’a my soul; in’a my soul.

Lord, I want to be like Jesus, in’a my soul.

Clearly, these descendants of enslaved Africans have bequeathed to the world not only a portion of its most beloved music and songs but a reconciling spirit towards the heirs of their former oppressors. Their continuous strivings to heal the nation of all traces of racism by expanding democracy for all citizens evidence their love for the so-called American dream from which they had been excluded for such a long time.

Under the conditions of chattel slavery, the theology of this so-called invisible church may be rightly called “the invisible theology of enslaved Africans.” It was a survivalist theology set in motion by the strivings of enslaved Africans for freedom from physical pain, psychological suffering, material deprivation, endless terror, brutal oppression, and diminished humanity: a theology deeply rooted in the understanding of a God who was both personal and communal; one who they hoped would deliver them from slavery as with the Israelites of long ago.

This invisible theology of enslaved Africans provided the spiritual foundation for relieving the burdens of their people through many different forms of actions that ranged from the extreme passivity of submission to the extreme aggressive forms of violent uprisings. The great diversity of responses included the following: helping runaway escapees whenever possible; inspiring rebellions, especially those led by preachers; pretending to be content with slavery by keeping their true feelings concealed; devising various devious means of resistance; supporting the nationalist aim to form a colony of free blacks in Africa which culminated in their settlement in Liberia in 1822; and giving assistance to the enemy during the War of Independence in return for free passage along the Atlantic seaboard, either to Nova Scotia with Reverend David George in 1782 or to Jamaica with Reverend George Liele in 1783 where they became the pioneers in establishing enduring Baptist churches in both countries. Let me hasten to say that less than a decade later, because of the racial hostilities they suffered in Nova Scotia, David George led a sizable group of blacks from Nova Scotia to found Freetown in Sierra Leone, the first British colony in West Africa. It was there that he planted another Baptist church. ⁴

The Public Theology of Free Negroes in Their Independent Churches

This theology of enslaved Africans ended its tradition of invisibility in 1787 by morphing into the independent church movement of Richard Allen. While the Constitution of the United States was being ratified in Philadelphia in that year, a mere six blocks away on Lombard Street, Richard Allen was leading a group of blacks out of St. George’s Methodist Church. He had been forced off his knees during prayers because he chose to sit in the white section of the church. He and those who left with him later formed the Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church, the mother congregation of the denomination by the same name that was established in 1816 with the motto, “God our Father; Christ our Redeemer; Man our Brother.” Suffice it to say that Allen’s action initiated a movement among so-called free Negroes who established various independent churches that continue to be moral centers in the black community from that day up to the present. Further, the act of “kneel-ins” in white churches during the Civil Rights Movement had its historical roots in Allen’s deliberate “kneel-in” in 1787.

For the most part, the various independent churches formed thereafter combined the polity they had inherited from their respective white denominations with the invisible theology of enslaved Africans to form what I call “the public theology of free Negroes in their independent churches.” Upon close analysis, one discovers that the invisible theology of enslaved Africans not only became visible in the independent black churches, but it played a major role in developing a moral social order among free blacks from the time of the revolutionary War of Independence through the Civil War and up to the middle of the twentieth century.

This second phase of theological development endured for approximately 175 years. Many different types of black churches were supported by its thought, which included predominantly black denominations and black congregations in predominantly white protestant denominations such as Methodists, Presbyterians, Baptists, Anglicans, Lutherans, Congregationalists, and others.

It should be noted, however, that the theology of free Negroes in their independent churches also supported the rise of a tradition of Christianity that had no antecedent in the mainstream white Protestant churches, namely the Pentecostal tradition that began with the 1906 revival meetings at the Azusa Street Mission, ⁵ a predominantly black congregation in Los Angeles led by William J. Seymour. That revival attracted many whites and other ethnic groups. In fact, many whites joined the mission and remained there for several decades, helping to preserve and expand the principle teachings of baptism by the Holy Spirit and glossolalia (speaking in tongues). Eventually, however, they broke away and joined the larger white community in preferring to form and maintain their own racially separate churches and denominations.

Thus, for several decades the sociology of black Pentecostals differed from the so-called main stream white churches by promoting and preserving inter-racial congregations with a racial balance not only in the pew but also in its bishopric. Since their members were predominantly poor with very limited education, their churches easily attracted large numbers of the southern migrants as they moved into northern and western cities throughout the first half of the twentieth century. Understandably, these churches undertook a necessary pastoral ministry by focusing primarily on matters pertaining to personal morality (abstinence from smoking, drinking, dancing, cursing, and gambling) and spiritual holiness (i.e. faithfulness to family and church). ⁶ Yet, a growing number of contemporary black Pentecostal scholars ⁷ are striving to persuade black Pentecostal churches to return to the prophetic ministry implied by their founders’ counter-cultural orientation. Such a ministry would also be a counter-force to the many contemporary charismatic televangelists busily proclaiming what many view as an idolatrous prosperity Gospel. ⁸

Clearly, the most enduring contribution of African American Pentecostalism to the black church tradition has been that of varying the sound of the spirituals into a “sanctified sound” which became the forerunner to gospel music destined to gain ascendancy in the mid- to late twentieth century through its indelible imprint on the music of most contemporary independent black churches. ⁹

For 175 years the public theology of free Negroes in their independent churches employed the method of moral suasion whenever they sought the help of whites for improving the plight of their people. This was done through reasoned arguments in letters, speeches, and face-to-face contact with white authorities. During slavery their theology supported that method but also such additional strategies as the following: the work of the New York Anti-Slavery Society in which the first black graduate of Princeton Theological Seminary, Theodore S. Wright (1828) was a founding member; the courageous ministry of the black Presbyterian abolitionist, Henry Highland Garnet; the mission of black newspapers like The North Star, founded and edited by the renowned Frederick Douglass, an escaped slave and foremost black abolitionist, orator, and writer; the Pan-African endeavors of Alexander Crummell and Martin DeLaney in calling for the colonization of free blacks to Africa; the work of two preachers, Nat Turner and Gabriel Prosser, who led rebellions against slavery in 1820 and 1830 respectively; the underground railroad where black churches joined others in aiding escapees from slavery and by facilitating their movement from place to place en route to Canada; and the founding of mutual aid societies, schools, hospitals, and businesses. Black churches viewed all of these diverse activities as essential parts of their respective ministries.

From the time of Reconstruction onwards black churches have lent their support to candidates for electoral office whose work they believed would assist them in their activities of uplifting the race. Also, from the beginning of their founding in the early twentieth century, the black churches have given their full support to traditional civil rights organizations such as the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) and the National Urban League, founded in the early decades of the twentieth century.

It is also important to note that the public theology of free Negroes in independent black churches was thoroughly ecumenical. It permeated every denomination (Episcopalian, Presbyterian, Methodist, Baptist, and others) and shaped its ethos. Following Vatican II it found a larger space in the predominantly black congregations of the Roman Catholic Church as well.

As stated above, from the beginning of their history black churches made the Christian Gospel their own by Africanizing their practices through music, dance, song, preaching, testimonies, prayers, body movements, spirit possession, communal belonging, and hospitality to all peoples. Much more could be said at this point about the content and style of this renewal process as well as its continuity with their African past, but suffice it to say that their constructive revision of white Christianity clearly evidenced that they were the sole agents in that process and not mere benefactors of their oppressors’ benevolence. ¹⁰

The Public Theology of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Clearly the black churches in America gained national visibility during the mid-twentieth-century Civil Rights Movement under the leadership of Martin Luther King, Jr. Prior to that event white America knew very little about the black churches and theological education paid no attention to them whatsoever. Long concealed from the eyes and ears of white America, the black church’s sudden public appearance greatly surprised the nation. While there was nothing unexpected about the main features of the boycott itself, namely the emptiness of the Montgomery buses and hundreds of black women walking to their domestic jobs, there was something else that was altogether new to white journalists and their readers. Close observation of the event revealed that the boycotters gathered in black churches each evening for what they called mass rallies. There they joyfully participated in programs that highlighted many of the traditional religious practices of the black churches: joyful hymns, spirituals, gospel music, prayers, testimonies, and dynamic preaching, all of which provided the necessary inspiration and encouragement that the people needed for continuing the boycott. Most importantly, their official spokesperson, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., speaking with an eloquence rarely heard since Abraham Lincoln, gave theological meaning to the resistance they were orchestrating against racial segregation and discrimination. Further, he repeatedly justified the boycott by appeals to the Bible, the Declaration of Independence, and the Constitution of the United States, which he often blended together as if they were parts of a single document.

Although not every black person in Montgomery attended the mass rallies, it soon became clear that those who participated in the boycott enjoyed an overwhelming consensus of black support for the action itself. Gradually, the nation was able to recognize the symbiotic relationship that had long existed between the black churches and the larger black community.

At the Montgomery Bus Boycott in 1955 the public theology of free Negroes in their independent churches underwent a striking transformation, not so much in substance as in its public style. For the first time in its history, black churches directly confronted the political and economic authorities of southern cities in protesting racial injustice, first by waging a year-long bus boycott and later by numerous mass demonstrations. Most importantly, they courageously introduced the nation to the practice of nonviolent resistance as they willingly presented their bodies to absorb the violence of the police and the terror of the Ku Klux Klan.

Propelled by the instrumentality of the public media, the speeches and sermons of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. saturated the nation’s airwaves for the greater part of a decade. King’s advanced learning enabled him to augment his inherited public theology of free Negroes in their independent churches with insights gained from his exposure to the liberal wing of the white male theological academy, which included the Social Gospel movement, philosophical and theological personalism, and the theologies of Reinhold Niebuhr and Paul Tillich. Clearly those academic resources merely supplemented his inherited public theology of free Negroes in their independent churches, which he modified in such a way that its ethics appealed not only to his own people but to liberal white Protestants, Jews, and many Roman Catholics as well. Since its impact on both whites and blacks was so great, and since his movement undertook the first nonviolent direct confrontation with the white power structure by blacks, C. Eric Lincoln marked that period as a watershed event when the so-called “negro church” actually became the “black church.” ¹¹ Thus, we can rightly claim that in contrast with any notion of submissiveness or passivity, the public theology of free Negroes in their independent churches became more self-determinative, assertive, and confident in the Southern Christian Leadership Conference which Dr. King founded and led. Following the debates of the 1960s about “black power,” the former so-called negro churches began renaming themselves the “black churches,” wherein the theology of Martin Luther King, Jr. continues to dominate its prophetic orientation.

During that period King revealed to the nation and world the traditional black belief in the God of Freedom who he believed ordained Jesus Christ to announce the coming of the “beloved community” where the diverse peoples of the world would live in harmony and peace. That same theology laid the foundation for the ensuing conflict that occurred between him and the advocates of black power. In his last book, Where Do We Go from Here? Chaos or Community?, King engaged in a rigorous discussion about the concept of “black power.” In doing so, he sought to affirm the notion of power per se while rejecting the adjective “black” because he believed it implied both racial chauvinism and the use of violence.

No one should assume that that debate was new. On the contrary, the black churches had had a long history of conflict among various camps within its domain advocating passive accommodation, legitimate protest, and nationalist separation. In fact, local black churches and some denominations became identified with one or other of those orientations. Yet, during the post-civil rights era, the achievements of Dr. King’s nonviolent protest movement facilitated the ascendancy of the strident black power movement that was soon embraced by the nascent black theology movement.

Black Theology in the Theological Academy

During the year after Dr. King’s assassination, Professor James H. Cone of Union Theological Seminary in New York published his first book entitled Black Theology and Black Power, which provided a theological rationale for the controversial concept of black power by arguing that God was on the side of oppressed peoples using power for the sake of their liberation. Key biblical passages drawn upon were those pertaining to the Exodus and Luke 4:18–20. Cone’s book launched a novel event in the American theological academy that was kept alive by the demands of black students, whose numbers, after King’s death, had rapidly increased in predominantly white seminaries, divinity schools, and religious studies departments.

Most importantly, Cone’s black theology marked the entrance of the black Christian tradition in the theological academy. Soon thereafter Professor Preston N. Williams of Harvard Divinity School organized the first Group Session in the American Academy of Religion entitled, African American Religious History, which was later chaired for several years by Cone’s colleague at Union Theological Seminary, the late James M. Washington.

In 1971 an appreciative though critical response to James Cone’s first book was published by Professor J. Deotis Roberts in his book, Liberation and Reconciliation: A Black Theology. For several years thereafter a debate between these two black theologians became dominant. Other constructive criticisms of the black theology project gradually emerged from such scholars as Cecil W. Cone, Major Jones, William R. Jones, Charles H. Long, and Gayraud Wilmore. A few white theologians also contributed their criticisms including John C. Bennett, Helmut Gollwitzer, Paul Lehmann, Paul Holmer, and G. Clarke Chapman.

The most radical form of black theology, however, was represented by Albert B. Cleage, Jr, whose first book entitled The Black Messiah claimed that Jesus and all of his disciples were black. He had also founded the Shrine of the Black Madonna in Detroit, which eventually expanded to other cities. His second book was entitled Black Christian Nationalism, which lay the groundwork for his increasing ecclesiastical separation from the black church tradition in this country by directly connecting with the Orthodox Church tradition in Africa. Thereafter his church took the name, Pan-African Orthodox Christian Church and he changed his name to Jaramogi Abebe Agyeman, Swahili names for Liberator, Holy man, and Savior of the nation.

In 1970 the few blacks who were teaching in theological education at that time came together and formed the Society for the Study of Black Religion (SSBR) as a forum where black scholars could freely discuss and critique one another’s research projects as well as challenge one another to discern how to relate Cone’s black theology to their respective disciplines. The purpose of the SSBR was never to replace the American Academy of Religion but to encourage black scholars to participate more effectively by offering papers at its annual meetings.

In its early days and for a long while afterwards the relationship between academic black theology and the black churches was strained because the black churches had never had a close relationship with the academic scholarship of predominantly white seminaries and divinity schools. Nonetheless, many of the black church leaders were familiar with all of the main tenets of black theology because they had encountered it in some of its notable nineteenth-century leaders who had emphasized them from time to time; leaders like Bishop Henry McNeil Turner, Alexander Crummell, David Walker, and Henry Highland Garnett, as well as such contemporaries as Herbert Edwards, Vincent Harding, Henry Mitchell, Ella Mitchell, Cornish Rogers, Hycel Taylor, Gayraud Wilmore, and Henry Young, to mention a few.

Clearly black theology has been largely an academic enterprise situated in and motivated by the demands of the academy. In fact, it originated with the questions and concerns of an ecumenical group of black leaders, many of whom were members of predominantly white denominations. On July 31, 1966 they took out a full-page ad in the New York Times in support of black power. Later in the following year they formed the National Conference of Negro Churchmen, which they later called the National Conference of Black Churchmen.

Cone’s writings enabled them to discern deeper theological grounds for their embrace of black power. Yet both then and now the concerns of blacks in the theological academy were far removed from those in the black churches. The awareness of that gap and various attempts to address it have been a work-in-progress for more than four decades. Nonetheless, the presence of black theology on the various seminary curricula has given visibility and relevance to the concerns of blacks and others as they pursue degrees in ministry and/or advanced theological studies.

As the decades have unfolded and more blacks have been admitted to the various degree programs in theological education and religious studies programs, the face of the academy has changed radically. Four decades ago one could count on one’s fingers the number of blacks in attendance at the American Academy of Religion. Today, several hundred attend, not only from the United States but from round the world. Also, each year the various book exhibitions reveal increasing numbers of books authored by black religious scholars in all the various disciplines of theological study. Further, a virtual cultural revolution has occurred along the lines of gender in that same arena. Most importantly, African American women theologians known as “womanist scholars” have gained high visibility in all areas of the theological academy.

Today, most African Americans in any field of theological education readily expect the opportunity to explore the content of black theology and womanist theology in order to discern the extent to which they will be helpful to them in their work as pastors, teachers, and scholars. Most black religious scholars use one or other genres as hermeneutic guides in their work. Yet, it is important to note that since most black theological scholars do not teach in institutions that offer Ph.D. programs, their continuing impact on the theological academy is uncertain. Nonetheless, some brilliant texts on the relation between black theology and the black churches have been published in recent years, the most impressive of which is James H. Evans, Jr.’s We Have Been Believers. ¹²

Womanist Theology in the Theological Academy

In the early 1980s, African American women pursuing advanced degrees in theology at Union Theological Seminary in New York discovered that since black theology was a male-centered discourse it had rendered woman’s voices silent. This disturbed them because the experience of black women differed in many ways from that of black men, as did their theology. As soon as that critique reached Cone’s ears he did not hesitate to confess guilt and apologized for the oversight, which he considered a serious one. He then encouraged the women to address the issue themselves, which they did. Soon, Jacqueline Grant published her book, the title of which is both provocative and perceptive, White Women’s Christ and Black Women’s Jesus: Feminist Christology and Womanist Response. ¹³

Among other things, Grant’s book demonstrated a strong willingness to dialogue with white feminists, in large part because they shared patriarchy as a common enemy. But, unlike white feminists who struggled with sexism and classism, black women’s experience was shaped by the additional factor of racism. Since black male theologians had no similar kinship with white male theologians, inter-racial theological dialogue for them has been much more difficult to begin.

Womanist theologian Delores S. Williams’s book, Sisters in the Wilderness: The Challenge of Womanist God-Talk, comprises a radical critique of the traditional doctrines of the atonement because they fail to address the experiences of black women. The book claims that the biblical figure of Hagar, who was cast away by her master and mistress, is a prototype of black women’s experience as slave, abused, castaway, surrogate mother, whose survival depended only on her trust in God.

Like black male theology, womanist theology was also born in the theological academy and, hence, continues to have difficulty in being embraced fully by the black churches. Ironically, black men and black women steeped in black theology and womanist theology often find it necessary to de-center the impact of those theologies on their thought when seeking a call to pastor a congregation.

A few black male theologian pastors have been effective, however, in persuading their churches to Africanize their aesthetic tastes in their personal dress, choir, and pastor’s robes, as well as various images of ecclesial ancestors, including Jesus and his disciples. This so-called Afri-centric orientation has been enhanced further by the recent publication of the African American Bible (a King James Version supplemented with various commentaries and essays by black scholars). The New International Version of the Bible, subtitled Aspire: The New Women of Color Study Bible, has a similar purpose.

Conclusion

Until more African Americans are teaching in theological institutions that offer Ph.D. degrees, one is not likely to see much scholarly conversation about the theologies of black folk between black and white scholars. Thus, the ongoing academic discussion about the theologies of black folk is likely to occur largely among African Americans themselves and a very small number of whites, as the various sessions at the American Academy of Religion and other academic associations presently indicate.

Let me hasten to point out, however, a major problem that attends the theologies of black folk both in the churches and the academy, namely their lack of critical attention to a broad range of moral problems confronting the nation in general and African Americans in particular. Although those theologies have a long tradition of critiquing the ways that race and racism diminish the lives of African Americans and the moral character of the nation, both black churches and their theologies maintain strong patriotic loyalties to the nation itself. Their uncritical acceptance of many of the nation’s conservative moral traditions makes them more likely to be pro-life than pro-choice on the concerns of women, homophobia, fatalism vis-à-vis the disproportionate amount of poverty among blacks and its concomitant effects on education, employment, crime, incarceration, environmental conditions, domestic abuse, teenage pregnancies, unstable families, to mention only a few. In short, the theologies of black folk and the religion of the black churches must expand their prophetic purview in order to address the broad range of moral concerns and social justice advocacy that are related to but not consumed by the traditional focus on race and racism alone.