The Faith of Our Forefathers

It was out in the country, far from home, far from my foster home, on a dark Sunday night. The road wandered from our rambling log-house up the stony bed of a creek, past wheat and corn, until we could hear dimly across the fields a rhythmic cadence of song,—soft, thrilling, powerful, that swelled and died sorrowfully in our ears. I was a country schoolteacher then, fresh from the East, and had never seen a Southern Negro revival. To be sure, we in Berkshire were not perhaps as stiff and formal as they in Suffolk of olden time; yet we were very quiet and subdued, and I know not what would have happened those clear Sabbath mornings had some one punctuated the sermon with a wild scream, or interrupted the long prayer with a loud Amen! And so most striking to me, as I approached the village and the little plain church perched aloft, was the air of intense excitement that possessed that mass of black folk. A sort of suppressed terror hung in the air and seemed to seize us,—a pythian madness, a demoniac possession, that lent terrible reality to song and word. The black and massive form of the preacher swayed and quivered as the words crowded to his lips and flew at us in singular eloquence. The people moaned and fluttered, and then the gaunt-cheeked brown woman beside me suddenly leaped straight into the air and shrieked like a lost soul, while round about came wail and groan and outcry, and a scene of human passion such as I had never conceived before.

It was a dark Sunday night in the country, far from home and far from my foster home. The road wound from our sprawling log house up the rocky bed of a creek, past wheat and corn. Then we could faintly hear the steady rhythm of singing across the fields. Soft, stirring, and powerful, the song rose and faded sorrowfully in our ears. I was a country schoolteacher then, newly arrived from the East. I had never seen a Southern Black revival meeting. To be sure, we in Berkshire were perhaps not as stiff and formal as people in Suffolk long ago. Still, we were very quiet and reserved. I cannot imagine what would have happened on those clear Sunday mornings if someone had screamed during the sermon. Or if someone had interrupted the long prayer with a loud Amen! So, as I approached the village and its small, plain church on high ground, the crowd's intense excitement struck me most. A kind of suppressed terror hung in the air and seemed to grip us. It was a prophetic frenzy, a demonic possession, giving terrifying reality to song and speech. The preacher's massive Black figure swayed and trembled. Words crowded to his lips and flew at us with extraordinary eloquence. The people moaned and shook. Then the hollow-cheeked brown woman beside me suddenly leaped straight into the air and shrieked like a lost soul. All around us came wails, groans, and cries, a scene of human passion beyond anything I had ever imagined.

Those who have not thus witnessed the frenzy of a Negro revival in the untouched backwoods of the South can but dimly realize the religious feeling of the slave; as described, such scenes appear grotesque and funny, but as seen they are awful. Three things characterized this religion of the slave,—the Preacher, the Music, and the Frenzy. The Preacher is the most unique personality developed by the Negro on American soil. A leader, a politician, an orator, a “boss,” an intriguer, an idealist,—all these he is, and ever, too, the centre of a group of men, now twenty, now a thousand in number. The combination of a certain adroitness with deep-seated earnestness, of tact with consummate ability, gave him his preeminence, and helps him maintain it. The type, of course, varies according to time and place, from the West Indies in the sixteenth century to New England in the nineteenth, and from the Mississippi bottoms to cities like New Orleans or New York.

Those who have never witnessed the frenzy of a Black revival in the remote Southern backwoods can only dimly understand the religious feelings of enslaved people. Descriptions of these scenes make them seem bizarre and funny, but witnessing them inspires awe. Three things defined the religion of enslaved people: the Preacher, the Music, and the Frenzy. The Preacher is the most distinctive personality Black people have developed on American soil. He is a leader, a politician, a public speaker, a “boss,” a schemer, and an idealist. He is all these things, and always the center of a group, sometimes twenty men, sometimes a thousand. His skill in handling people, combined with deep sincerity, tact, and exceptional ability, gave him his leading position. These qualities also help him keep that position. The type of preacher varies, of course, with time and place. The range stretches from the West Indies in the sixteenth century to New England in the nineteenth. It also stretches from the Mississippi lowlands to cities like New Orleans or New York.

The Music of Negro religion is that plaintive rhythmic melody, with its touching minor cadences, which, despite caricature and defilement, still remains the most original and beautiful expression of human life and longing yet born on American soil. Sprung from the African forests, where its counterpart can still be heard, it was adapted, changed, and intensified by the tragic soul-life of the slave, until, under the stress of law and whip, it became the one true expression of a people’s sorrow, despair, and hope.

The music of Black religion is a mournful, rhythmic melody with moving cadences in a minor key. Despite mockery and degradation, it remains the most original and beautiful expression of human life and longing born on American soil. This music sprang from the African forests, where similar music can still be heard. Enslaved people’s tragic inner lives adapted, changed, and intensified the music. Under the pressure of the law and the whip, it became a people’s one true expression of sorrow, despair, and hope.

Finally the Frenzy of “Shouting,” when the Spirit of the Lord passed by, and, seizing the devotee, made him mad with supernatural joy, was the last essential of Negro religion and the one more devoutly believed in than all the rest. It varied in expression from the silent rapt countenance or the low murmur and moan to the mad abandon of physical fervor,—the stamping, shrieking, and shouting, the rushing to and fro and wild waving of arms, the weeping and laughing, the vision and the trance. All this is nothing new in the world, but old as religion, as Delphi and Endor. And so firm a hold did it have on the Negro, that many generations firmly believed that without this visible manifestation of the God there could be no true communion with the Invisible.

Finally came the frenzy of “Shouting,” the last essential element of Black religion, believed in more devoutly than all the rest. This frenzy came when the Spirit of the Lord passed by and seized the worshipper, driving him wild with supernatural joy. Its expression ranged from a silent, ecstatic face or a low murmur and moan to unrestrained physical fervor. Worshippers stamped, shrieked, and shouted, rushed back and forth, and waved their arms wildly. They wept and laughed, saw visions, and fell into trances. None of this is new in the world. These expressions are as old as religion, as Delphi and Endor. And this frenzy had such a firm hold on Black people that the belief endured for many generations. They firmly believed that without this visible sign of God, there could be no true communion with the Invisible.

These were the characteristics of Negro religious life as developed up to the time of Emancipation. Since under the peculiar circumstances of the black man’s environment they were the one expression of his higher life, they are of deep interest to the student of his development, both socially and psychologically. Numerous are the attractive lines of inquiry that here group themselves. What did slavery mean to the African savage? What was his attitude toward the World and Life? What seemed to him good and evil,—God and Devil? Whither went his longings and strivings, and wherefore were his heart-burnings and disappointments? Answers to such questions can come only from a study of Negro religion as a development, through its gradual changes from the heathenism of the Gold Coast to the institutional Negro church of Chicago.

These were the features of Black religious life that had developed by the time of Emancipation. Under the unique conditions in which Black people lived, religion was their only expression of a higher life. Because of this, their religious life deeply interests anyone studying their social and psychological development. Many compelling questions arise here. What did slavery mean to the African savage? How did he view the world and life? What did he see as good and evil, as God and the Devil? What were his hopes and ambitions, and what caused his anguish and disappointment? Such questions can be answered only by studying how Black religion developed. This means tracing its gradual changes from the pagan religions of the Gold Coast to the organized Black church of Chicago.

Moreover, the religious growth of millions of men, even though they be slaves, cannot be without potent influence upon their contemporaries. The Methodists and Baptists of America owe much of their condition to the silent but potent influence of their millions of Negro converts. Especially is this noticeable in the South, where theology and religious philosophy are on this account a long way behind the North, and where the religion of the poor whites is a plain copy of Negro thought and methods. The mass of “gospel” hymns which has swept through American churches and well-nigh ruined our sense of song consists largely of debased imitations of Negro melodies made by ears that caught the jingle but not the music, the body but not the soul, of the Jubilee songs. It is thus clear that the study of Negro religion is not only a vital part of the history of the Negro in America, but no uninteresting part of American history.

Moreover, the religious growth of millions of people, even if they are slaves, must powerfully influence their contemporaries. America’s Methodists and Baptists owe much of their current character to the quiet but powerful influence of their millions of Negro converts. This influence is especially noticeable in the South. Because of it, Southern theology and religious philosophy lag far behind those of the North. And the religion of poor whites is a clear copy of Negro thought and practices. The flood of “gospel” hymns through American churches has nearly ruined our sense of song. These hymns are largely degraded imitations of Negro melodies. Their creators heard the jingle but not the music, the body but not the soul, of the Jubilee songs. Clearly, then, studying Negro religion is a vital part of studying the history of Negro people in America. It is also a far from uninteresting part of American history.

The Negro church of to-day is the social centre of Negro life in the United States, and the most characteristic expression of African character. Take a typical church in a small Virginia town: it is the “First Baptist”—a roomy brick edifice seating five hundred or more persons, tastefully finished in Georgia pine, with a carpet, a small organ, and stained-glass windows. Underneath is a large assembly room with benches. This building is the central club-house of a community of a thousand or more Negroes. Various organizations meet here,—the church proper, the Sunday-school, two or three insurance societies, women’s societies, secret societies, and mass meetings of various kinds. Entertainments, suppers, and lectures are held beside the five or six regular weekly religious services. Considerable sums of money are collected and expended here, employment is found for the idle, strangers are introduced, news is disseminated and charity distributed. At the same time this social, intellectual, and economic centre is a religious centre of great power. Depravity, Sin, Redemption, Heaven, Hell, and Damnation are preached twice a Sunday after the crops are laid by; and few indeed of the community have the hardihood to withstand conversion. Back of this more formal religion, the Church often stands as a real conserver of morals, a strengthener of family life, and the final authority on what is Good and Right.

The Black church today is the social center of Black life in the United States. It is also the most characteristic expression of African character. Take a typical church in a small Virginia town: the “First Baptist.” It is a spacious brick building that seats five hundred or more people. The interior is tastefully finished in Georgia pine, with a carpet, a small organ, and stained-glass windows. Below is a large meeting room with benches. The building is the central clubhouse for a community of a thousand or more Black people. Various organizations meet here: the church itself, the Sunday school, two or three insurance societies, women’s societies, and secret societies. Mass meetings of various kinds also take place here. In addition to five or six regular religious services each week, the church hosts entertainments, suppers, and lectures. Large sums of money are collected and spent here. Unemployed people find work, strangers are introduced, news is shared, and charity is distributed. At the same time, this social, intellectual, and economic center is a powerful religious center. Once the crops need no further tending, sermons on Depravity, Sin, Redemption, Heaven, Hell, and Damnation are preached twice each Sunday. Indeed, very few people in the community have the boldness to resist conversion. Beyond this more formal religion, the Church often truly preserves morals, strengthens family life, and ultimately decides what is Good and Right.

Thus one can see in the Negro church to-day, reproduced in microcosm, all the great world from which the Negro is cut off by color-prejudice and social condition. In the great city churches the same tendency is noticeable and in many respects emphasized. A great church like the Bethel of Philadelphia has over eleven hundred members, an edifice seating fifteen hundred persons and valued at one hundred thousand dollars, an annual budget of five thousand dollars, and a government consisting of a pastor with several assisting local preachers, an executive and legislative board, financial boards and tax collectors; general church meetings for making laws; sub-divided groups led by class leaders, a company of militia, and twenty-four auxiliary societies. The activity of a church like this is immense and far-reaching, and the bishops who preside over these organizations throughout the land are among the most powerful Negro rulers in the world.

Thus, today’s Black church reproduces in miniature the whole world that racial prejudice and social conditions shut Black people out of. The same pattern appears in large city churches and is stronger in many respects. A large church like the Bethel of Philadelphia has over eleven hundred members. Its building seats fifteen hundred people and is valued at one hundred thousand dollars. Its annual budget is five thousand dollars. The church is governed by a pastor assisted by several local preachers, an executive and legislative board, and financial boards. It also has tax collectors and general church meetings where laws are made. The congregation is divided into smaller groups led by class leaders. The church also has a militia company and twenty-four auxiliary societies. A church like this carries out an immense range of activities with far-reaching effects. The bishops who oversee these organizations across the country are among the most powerful Black rulers in the world.

Such churches are really governments of men, and consequently a little investigation reveals the curious fact that, in the South, at least, practically every American Negro is a church member. Some, to be sure, are not regularly enrolled, and a few do not habitually attend services; but, practically, a proscribed people must have a social centre, and that centre for this people is the Negro church. The census of 1890 showed nearly twenty-four thousand Negro churches in the country, with a total enrolled membership of over two and a half millions, or ten actual church members to every twenty-eight persons, and in some Southern States one in every two persons. Besides these there is the large number who, while not enrolled as members, attend and take part in many of the activities of the church. There is an organized Negro church for every sixty black families in the nation, and in some States for every forty families, owning, on an average, a thousand dollars’ worth of property each, or nearly twenty-six million dollars in all.

Such churches are really governments for their people. So a little investigation reveals a curious fact: in the South, at least, practically every Black American belongs to a church. Some, to be sure, are not formally enrolled, and a few do not regularly attend services. But a people excluded from society must, in practice, have a social center. For Black Americans, that center is the Black church. The 1890 census counted nearly twenty-four thousand Black churches nationwide, with over two and a half million enrolled members. That meant ten enrolled church members for every twenty-eight people, and in some Southern States, one for every two people. Beyond those enrolled, many others attend and take part in numerous church activities. Nationwide, there is one organized Black church for every sixty Black families, and in some States, one for every forty. Each church owns property worth an average of a thousand dollars, totaling nearly twenty-six million dollars.

Such, then, is the large development of the Negro church since Emancipation. The question now is, What have been the successive steps of this social history and what are the present tendencies? First, we must realize that no such institution as the Negro church could rear itself without definite historical foundations. These foundations we can find if we remember that the social history of the Negro did not start in America. He was brought from a definite social environment,—the polygamous clan life under the headship of the chief and the potent influence of the priest. His religion was nature-worship, with profound belief in invisible surrounding influences, good and bad, and his worship was through incantation and sacrifice. The first rude change in this life was the slave ship and the West Indian sugar-fields. The plantation organization replaced the clan and tribe, and the white master replaced the chief with far greater and more despotic powers. Forced and long-continued toil became the rule of life, the old ties of blood relationship and kinship disappeared, and instead of the family appeared a new polygamy and polyandry, which, in some cases, almost reached promiscuity. It was a terrific social revolution, and yet some traces were retained of the former group life, and the chief remaining institution was the Priest or Medicine-man. He early appeared on the plantation and found his function as the healer of the sick, the interpreter of the Unknown, the comforter of the sorrowing, the supernatural avenger of wrong, and the one who rudely but picturesquely expressed the longing, disappointment, and resentment of a stolen and oppressed people. Thus, as bard, physician, judge, and priest, within the narrow limits allowed by the slave system, rose the Negro preacher, and under him the first church was not at first by any means Christian nor definitely organized; rather it was an adaptation and mingling of heathen rites among the members of each plantation, and roughly designated as Voodooism. Association with the masters, missionary effort and motives of expediency gave these rites an early veneer of Christianity, and after the lapse of many generations the Negro church became Christian.

Such, then, has been the broad development of the Negro church since Emancipation. The question now is: What stages has this social history passed through, and what are its current trends? First, we must recognize that an institution like the Negro church could not have arisen without specific historical foundations. We can find these foundations if we remember that Black people’s social history did not begin in America. They were brought from a distinct social setting: polygamous clan life under a chief’s leadership and a priest’s powerful influence. Their religion was nature worship, with a deep belief in invisible forces, good and bad, surrounding them. They worshipped through incantations and sacrifices. The first brutal disruption of this life came with the slave ship and the West Indian sugar fields. The plantation system replaced the clan and tribe. The white master replaced the chief, with far greater and more tyrannical powers. Forced, prolonged labor became the rule of life, and old ties of blood and kinship disappeared. In place of the family came new forms of polygamy and polyandry, involving multiple wives or husbands. In some cases, these arrangements approached promiscuity. This was a devastating social revolution, yet some traces of the former group life survived. The main surviving institution was the priest or medicine man. The priest appeared early on the plantation and took on several roles. He healed the sick, interpreted the unknown, comforted the grieving, and used supernatural power to avenge wrongs. He also gave rough but vivid expression to the longing, disappointment, and resentment of a stolen and oppressed people. Thus the Negro preacher emerged as poet, healer, judge, and priest, within the narrow limits allowed by slavery. Under his leadership, the first church was neither Christian nor clearly organized at first. Instead, the church adapted and blended non-Christian rites among the people on each plantation. These practices were loosely called Voodooism. Contact with the masters, missionary work, and practical motives soon gave these rites a thin surface layer of Christianity. After many generations, the Negro church became Christian.

Two characteristic things must be noticed in regard to the church. First, it became almost entirely Baptist and Methodist in faith; secondly, as a social institution it antedated by many decades the monogamic Negro home. From the very circumstances of its beginning, the church was confined to the plantation, and consisted primarily of a series of disconnected units; although, later on, some freedom of movement was allowed, still this geographical limitation was always important and was one cause of the spread of the decentralized and democratic Baptist faith among the slaves. At the same time, the visible rite of baptism appealed strongly to their mystic temperament. To-day the Baptist Church is still largest in membership among Negroes, and has a million and a half communicants. Next in popularity came the churches organized in connection with the white neighboring churches, chiefly Baptist and Methodist, with a few Episcopalian and others. The Methodists still form the second greatest denomination, with nearly a million members. The faith of these two leading denominations was more suited to the slave church from the prominence they gave to religious feeling and fervor. The Negro membership in other denominations has always been small and relatively unimportant, although the Episcopalians and Presbyterians are gaining among the more intelligent classes to-day, and the Catholic Church is making headway in certain sections. After Emancipation, and still earlier in the North, the Negro churches largely severed such affiliations as they had had with the white churches, either by choice or by compulsion. The Baptist churches became independent, but the Methodists were compelled early to unite for purposes of episcopal government. This gave rise to the great African Methodist Church, the greatest Negro organization in the world, to the Zion Church and the Colored Methodist, and to the black conferences and churches in this and other denominations.

Two defining features of the church deserve attention. First, its faith became almost entirely Baptist and Methodist. Second, as a social institution, the church existed many decades before the monogamous Black family home. The circumstances of its beginnings confined the church to the plantation. It consisted mainly of separate, unconnected congregations. Although some freedom of movement was later allowed, these geographic limits always remained important. These limits helped spread the decentralized and democratic Baptist faith among enslaved people. At the same time, the visible ritual of baptism appealed strongly to their mystical temperament. Today, the Baptist Church still has the largest Black membership, with a million and a half members. Next in popularity came churches organized in association with neighboring white churches. These were chiefly Baptist and Methodist, with a few Episcopalian churches and others. The Methodists still form the second-largest denomination, with nearly a million Black members. The faith of these two leading denominations better suited the church among enslaved people because both emphasized religious feeling and fervor. Black membership in other denominations has always been small and relatively unimportant. However, the Episcopalians and Presbyterians are now gaining members among the more intelligent classes. The Catholic Church is also making progress in certain regions. After Emancipation, and even earlier in the North, Black churches largely cut their ties with white churches. They did so either by choice or under pressure. The Baptist churches became independent. But the Methodist churches were compelled early on to unite under government by bishops. This union gave rise to the great African Methodist Church, the greatest Black organization in the world. It also produced the Zion Church and the Colored Methodist, along with Black conferences and churches in these and other denominations.

The second fact noted, namely, that the Negro church antedates the Negro home, leads to an explanation of much that is paradoxical in this communistic institution and in the morals of its members. But especially it leads us to regard this institution as peculiarly the expression of the inner ethical life of a people in a sense seldom true elsewhere. Let us turn, then, from the outer physical development of the church to the more important inner ethical life of the people who compose it. The Negro has already been pointed out many times as a religious animal,—a being of that deep emotional nature which turns instinctively toward the supernatural. Endowed with a rich tropical imagination and a keen, delicate appreciation of Nature, the transplanted African lived in a world animate with gods and devils, elves and witches; full of strange influences,—of Good to be implored, of Evil to be propitiated. Slavery, then, was to him the dark triumph of Evil over him. All the hateful powers of the Under-world were striving against him, and a spirit of revolt and revenge filled his heart. He called up all the resources of heathenism to aid,—exorcism and witch-craft, the mysterious Obi worship with its barbarious rites, spells, and blood-sacrifice even, now and then, of human victims. Weird midnight orgies and mystic conjurations were invoked, the witch-woman and the voodoo-priest became the centre of Negro group life, and that vein of vague superstition which characterizes the unlettered Negro even to-day was deepened and strengthened.

The second fact noted, that the Black church existed before the Black home, helps explain many apparent contradictions. These contradictions concern the church as a communal institution and the morals of its members. Above all, this fact shows that the church expresses a people's inner moral life in a way rarely found elsewhere. Let us turn, then, from the church's outward, physical development to the more important inner moral life of its people. Black people have often been described as deeply religious beings, whose emotional nature turns instinctively toward the supernatural. With a rich tropical imagination and a sharp, sensitive appreciation of Nature, Africans displaced from their homeland inhabited a spirit-filled world. Gods and devils, elves and witches brought that world to life. Strange influences filled it, with Good to be pleaded with and Evil to be appeased. Slavery, then, seemed to the displaced African the dark triumph of Evil over him. All the hateful powers of the Underworld were struggling against him, and a spirit of rebellion and revenge filled his heart. He called on all the resources of pagan religion for help: exorcism, witchcraft, and the mysterious Obi worship. Obi worship involved barbaric rites, spells, and blood sacrifices, sometimes even of human victims. He turned to eerie midnight orgies and mystical rituals that summoned spirits. The witch-woman and the voodoo-priest became the center of Black communal life. And the strain of vague superstition that characterizes Black people without formal education even today grew deeper and stronger.

In spite, however, of such success as that of the fierce Maroons, the Danish blacks, and others, the spirit of revolt gradually died away under the untiring energy and superior strength of the slave masters. By the middle of the eighteenth century the black slave had sunk, with hushed murmurs, to his place at the bottom of a new economic system, and was unconsciously ripe for a new philosophy of life. Nothing suited his condition then better than the doctrines of passive submission embodied in the newly learned Christianity. Slave masters early realized this, and cheerfully aided religious propaganda within certain bounds. The long system of repression and degradation of the Negro tended to emphasize the elements of his character which made him a valuable chattel: courtesy became humility, moral strength degenerated into submission, and the exquisite native appreciation of the beautiful became an infinite capacity for dumb suffering. The Negro, losing the joy of this world, eagerly seized upon the offered conceptions of the next; the avenging Spirit of the Lord enjoining patience in this world, under sorrow and tribulation until the Great Day when He should lead His dark children home,—this became his comforting dream. His preacher repeated the prophecy, and his bards sang,—

Despite the successes of the fierce Maroons, the Danish blacks, and others, the spirit of revolt gradually faded. Slave masters wore down that spirit with their tireless efforts and greater strength. By the mid-eighteenth century, enslaved black people had sunk to the bottom of a new economic system, their protests hushed. Without knowing it, they were ready for a new philosophy of life. Nothing suited their condition better than the teachings of passive submission found in the Christianity they had recently learned. Slave masters recognized this early and gladly helped spread religious teachings within certain limits. The long repression and degradation of black people emphasized the qualities that made them valuable as property. Courtesy became humility, moral strength weakened into submission, and their exquisite natural appreciation of beauty became an endless capacity for silent suffering. As black people lost the joy of this world, they eagerly embraced the visions offered of the next. The avenging Spirit of the Lord commanded patience amid the sorrow and suffering of this world until the Great Day. Then he would lead his dark children home. This vision became their comforting dream. Their preachers repeated the prophecy, and their poets sang:

This deep religious fatalism, painted so beautifully in “Uncle Tom,” came soon to breed, as all fatalistic faiths will, the sensualist side by side with the martyr. Under the lax moral life of the plantation, where marriage was a farce, laziness a virtue, and property a theft, a religion of resignation and submission degenerated easily, in less strenuous minds, into a philosophy of indulgence and crime. Many of the worst characteristics of the Negro masses of to-day had their seed in this period of the slave’s ethical growth. Here it was that the Home was ruined under the very shadow of the Church, white and black; here habits of shiftlessness took root, and sullen hopelessness replaced hopeful strife.

This deep religious belief in fate is portrayed so beautifully in “Uncle Tom.” It soon bred pleasure-seekers alongside martyrs, as all faiths based on fate will do. Moral life on the plantation was lax: marriage was a farce, laziness a virtue, and property a theft. Under these conditions, a religion of acceptance and submission easily became a philosophy of indulgence and crime among less strong-minded people. Many of the worst traits of the Negro masses today had their beginnings in this stage of enslaved people's moral development. Here, family life was ruined in the very shadow of the Church, both white and black. Here, habits of laziness and irresponsibility took root, and bitter hopelessness replaced hopeful struggle.

With the beginning of the abolition movement and the gradual growth of a class of free Negroes came a change. We often neglect the influence of the freedman before the war, because of the paucity of his numbers and the small weight he had in the history of the nation. But we must not forget that his chief influence was internal,—was exerted on the black world; and that there he was the ethical and social leader. Huddled as he was in a few centres like Philadelphia, New York, and New Orleans, the masses of the freedmen sank into poverty and listlessness; but not all of them. The free Negro leader early arose and his chief characteristic was intense earnestness and deep feeling on the slavery question. Freedom became to him a real thing and not a dream. His religion became darker and more intense, and into his ethics crept a note of revenge, into his songs a day of reckoning close at hand. The “Coming of the Lord” swept this side of Death, and came to be a thing to be hoped for in this day. Through fugitive slaves and irrepressible discussion this desire for freedom seized the black millions still in bondage, and became their one ideal of life. The black bards caught new notes, and sometimes even dared to sing,—

A change came with the start of the abolition movement and the gradual growth of a free Black population. We often overlook the influence of Black people freed before the war because they were few in number. They also played only a small role in the nation’s history. But we must remember that their main influence was within the Black community. There, they were moral and social leaders. Crowded into a few cities like Philadelphia, New York, and New Orleans, most freed Black people sank into poverty and apathy. But not all of them did. Free Black leaders emerged early, marked above all by intense commitment and deep feeling about slavery. For these leaders, freedom became a reality, not a dream. Their religion grew darker and more intense. A note of revenge entered their moral outlook, and their songs spoke of a day of reckoning close at hand. The “Coming of the Lord” was no longer placed beyond death. It became something to hope for in this life. Through escaped slaves and discussions that could not be silenced, this desire for freedom gripped the millions of Black people still enslaved. Freedom became their one ideal in life. Black poets and singers found new notes, and sometimes even dared to sing:

For fifty years Negro religion thus transformed itself and identified itself with the dream of Abolition, until that which was a radical fad in the white North and an anarchistic plot in the white South had become a religion to the black world. Thus, when Emancipation finally came, it seemed to the freedman a literal Coming of the Lord. His fervid imagination was stirred as never before, by the tramp of armies, the blood and dust of battle, and the wail and whirl of social upheaval. He stood dumb and motionless before the whirlwind: what had he to do with it? Was it not the Lord’s doing, and marvellous in his eyes? Joyed and bewildered with what came, he stood awaiting new wonders till the inevitable Age of Reaction swept over the nation and brought the crisis of to-day.

For fifty years, Black religion changed in this way and became bound to the dream of Abolition. In the white North, Abolition was a radical fad. In the white South, it was a plot to overthrow the social order. But in the Black world, Abolition had become a religion. So when Emancipation finally came, it seemed to the newly freed man like the literal Coming of the Lord. His passionate imagination was stirred as never before by marching armies, the blood and dust of battle, and the cries and turmoil of social upheaval. He stood silent and motionless before the whirlwind. What part had he played in all this? Was Emancipation not the Lord’s work, a marvel in his eyes? Overjoyed and bewildered by what had happened, he stood waiting for new wonders. Then the inevitable Age of Reaction swept over the nation and brought the crisis of today.

It is difficult to explain clearly the present critical stage of Negro religion. First, we must remember that living as the blacks do in close contact with a great modern nation, and sharing, although imperfectly, the soul-life of that nation, they must necessarily be affected more or less directly by all the religious and ethical forces that are to-day moving the United States. These questions and movements are, however, overshadowed and dwarfed by the (to them) all-important question of their civil, political, and economic status. They must perpetually discuss the “Negro Problem,”—must live, move, and have their being in it, and interpret all else in its light or darkness. With this come, too, peculiar problems of their inner life,—of the status of women, the maintenance of Home, the training of children, the accumulation of wealth, and the prevention of crime. All this must mean a time of intense ethical ferment, of religious heart-searching and intellectual unrest. From the double life every American Negro must live, as a Negro and as an American, as swept on by the current of the nineteenth while yet struggling in the eddies of the fifteenth century,—from this must arise a painful self-consciousness, an almost morbid sense of personality and a moral hesitancy which is fatal to self-confidence. The worlds within and without the Veil of Color are changing, and changing rapidly, but not at the same rate, not in the same way; and this must produce a peculiar wrenching of the soul, a peculiar sense of doubt and bewilderment. Such a double life, with double thoughts, double duties, and double social classes, must give rise to double words and double ideals, and tempt the mind to pretence or revolt, to hypocrisy or radicalism.

It is difficult to explain clearly the current critical stage of Black religious life. First, we must remember that Black people live in close contact with a great modern nation. They share in that nation’s spiritual life, although not fully. So all the religious and ethical forces now moving the United States must affect them more or less directly. But these questions and movements are overshadowed and dwarfed by what matters most to Black people: their civil, political, and economic status. They must constantly discuss the “Negro Problem.” They must live, move, and find their whole existence within it, interpreting everything else in its light or darkness. Alongside this come particular problems in their private lives. These concern women’s status, maintaining the home, raising children, building wealth, and preventing crime. All these pressures must create a time of intense ethical questioning, religious soul-searching, and intellectual unrest. Every Black American must live a double life, as a Black person and as an American. They are swept along by the current of the nineteenth century while still struggling in the fifteenth century’s swirling backwaters. This double life must produce painful self-consciousness and an almost unhealthy awareness of one’s own identity. It must also produce moral uncertainty that destroys self-confidence. The worlds inside and outside the Veil of Color are changing rapidly. But they are not changing at the same pace or in the same way. These differences must produce a distinctive wrenching of the soul, a distinctive sense of doubt and bewilderment. Such a double life brings two sets of thoughts, two sets of duties, and two sets of social classes. It must lead to two ways of speaking and two sets of ideals. It must tempt the mind toward pretense or revolt, hypocrisy or radicalism.

In some such doubtful words and phrases can one perhaps most clearly picture the peculiar ethical paradox that faces the Negro of to-day and is tingeing and changing his religious life. Feeling that his rights and his dearest ideals are being trampled upon, that the public conscience is ever more deaf to his righteous appeal, and that all the reactionary forces of prejudice, greed, and revenge are daily gaining new strength and fresh allies, the Negro faces no enviable dilemma. Conscious of his impotence, and pessimistic, he often becomes bitter and vindictive; and his religion, instead of a worship, is a complaint and a curse, a wail rather than a hope, a sneer rather than a faith. On the other hand, another type of mind, shrewder and keener and more tortuous too, sees in the very strength of the anti-Negro movement its patent weaknesses, and with Jesuitic casuistry is deterred by no ethical considerations in the endeavor to turn this weakness to the black man’s strength. Thus we have two great and hardly reconcilable streams of thought and ethical strivings; the danger of the one lies in anarchy, that of the other in hypocrisy. The one type of Negro stands almost ready to curse God and die, and the other is too often found a traitor to right and a coward before force; the one is wedded to ideals remote, whimsical, perhaps impossible of realization; the other forgets that life is more than meat and the body more than raiment. But, after all, is not this simply the writhing of the age translated into black,—the triumph of the Lie which today, with its false culture, faces the hideousness of the anarchist assassin?

Perhaps such uncertain words and phrases best capture the peculiar moral paradox facing Black people today. That paradox is coloring and changing their religious life. Black people feel that their rights and their most cherished ideals are being trampled on. They feel that the public conscience grows ever more deaf to their just appeals. And they feel that all the reactionary forces of prejudice, greed, and revenge gain strength and new allies daily. The dilemma they face is hardly enviable. Aware of their powerlessness and pessimistic, they often become bitter and vengeful. Their religion becomes not worship but a complaint and a curse, a cry rather than a hope, a sneer rather than faith. Another kind of mind, however, is shrewder, sharper, and also more devious. It sees obvious weaknesses in the very strength of the movement against Black people. Using clever, Jesuit-like moral reasoning, people of this kind let no ethical concerns stop them from exploiting those weaknesses. They seek to turn those weaknesses into strength for Black people. So there are two great currents of thought and moral striving that can hardly be reconciled. The danger of the first is anarchy, and the danger of the second is hypocrisy. One kind of Black person stands almost ready to curse God and die. The other too often betrays what is right and cowers before force. The first clings to distant, fanciful ideals that may be impossible to achieve. The second forgets that life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. But, after all, is this not simply the agony of the age expressed in Black life? Is it not the triumph of the Lie, whose false culture now confronts the horror of the anarchist assassin?

To-day the two groups of Negroes, the one in the North, the other in the South, represent these divergent ethical tendencies, the first tending toward radicalism, the other toward hypocritical compromise. It is no idle regret with which the white South mourns the loss of the old-time Negro,—the frank, honest, simple old servant who stood for the earlier religious age of submission and humility. With all his laziness and lack of many elements of true manhood, he was at least open-hearted, faithful, and sincere. To-day he is gone, but who is to blame for his going? Is it not those very persons who mourn for him? Is it not the tendency, born of Reconstruction and Reaction, to found a society on lawlessness and deception, to tamper with the moral fibre of a naturally honest and straightforward people until the whites threaten to become ungovernable tyrants and the blacks criminals and hypocrites? Deception is the natural defence of the weak against the strong, and the South used it for many years against its conquerors; to-day it must be prepared to see its black proletariat turn that same two-edged weapon against itself. And how natural this is! The death of Denmark Vesey and Nat Turner proved long since to the Negro the present hopelessness of physical defence. Political defence is becoming less and less available, and economic defence is still only partially effective. But there is a patent defence at hand,—the defence of deception and flattery, of cajoling and lying. It is the same defence which peasants of the Middle Age used and which left its stamp on their character for centuries. To-day the young Negro of the South who would succeed cannot be frank and outspoken, honest and self-assertive, but rather he is daily tempted to be silent and wary, politic and sly; he must flatter and be pleasant, endure petty insults with a smile, shut his eyes to wrong; in too many cases he sees positive personal advantage in deception and lying. His real thoughts, his real aspirations, must be guarded in whispers; he must not criticise, he must not complain. Patience, humility, and adroitness must, in these growing black youth, replace impulse, manliness, and courage. With this sacrifice there is an economic opening, and perhaps peace and some prosperity. Without this there is riot, migration, or crime. Nor is this situation peculiar to the Southern United States, is it not rather the only method by which undeveloped races have gained the right to share modern culture? The price of culture is a Lie.

Today, the two groups of Black people, one in the North and one in the South, reflect these different moral tendencies. The first tends toward radicalism, the second toward hypocritical compromise. The white South’s grief over the loss of the old-time Black servant is not empty regret. That frank, honest, simple servant represented an earlier religious age of submission and humility. Despite all his laziness and his lack of many qualities of true manhood, he was at least openhearted, faithful, and sincere. Today he is gone, but who is to blame for his disappearance? Is it not the very people who mourn him? Is it not the tendency, born of Reconstruction and Reaction, to build a society on lawlessness and deception? Does that tendency not undermine the moral character of a naturally honest and straightforward people? Does it not threaten to turn white people into uncontrollable tyrants and Black people into criminals and hypocrites? Deception is the natural defense of the weak against the strong. The South used deception for many years against its conquerors. Today, the South must be prepared to see its Black working class turn that same double-edged weapon against it. And how natural this is! The deaths of Denmark Vesey and Nat Turner long ago showed Black people that physical defense was hopeless for now. Political defense is becoming less and less available, and economic defense is still only partly effective. But an obvious defense is at hand: deception and flattery, coaxing and lying. Peasants in the Middle Ages used the same defense, and it shaped their character for centuries. Today, a young Black person in the South who wants to succeed cannot be frank, outspoken, honest, and assertive. Instead, he is tempted every day to be silent and cautious, calculating and sly. He must flatter and be pleasant, endure petty insults with a smile, and close his eyes to wrongdoing. In too many cases, he sees clear personal benefits in deception and lying. His real thoughts and ambitions must be kept secret, spoken only in whispers. He must not criticize, and he must not complain. In these growing Black youths, patience, humility, and skillful maneuvering must replace impulse, manliness, and courage. With this sacrifice comes economic opportunity, and perhaps peace and some prosperity. Without this sacrifice come riots, migration, or crime. Nor is this situation unique to the Southern United States. Is this not, instead, the only way undeveloped races have gained the right to share in modern culture? The price of culture is a Lie.

On the other hand, in the North the tendency is to emphasize the radicalism of the Negro. Driven from his birthright in the South by a situation at which every fibre of his more outspoken and assertive nature revolts, he finds himself in a land where he can scarcely earn a decent living amid the harsh competition and the color discrimination. At the same time, through schools and periodicals, discussions and lectures, he is intellectually quickened and awakened. The soul, long pent up and dwarfed, suddenly expands in new-found freedom. What wonder that every tendency is to excess,—radical complaint, radical remedies, bitter denunciation or angry silence. Some sink, some rise. The criminal and the sensualist leave the church for the gambling-hell and the brothel, and fill the slums of Chicago and Baltimore; the better classes segregate themselves from the group-life of both white and black, and form an aristocracy, cultured but pessimistic, whose bitter criticism stings while it points out no way of escape. They despise the submission and subserviency of the Southern Negroes, but offer no other means by which a poor and oppressed minority can exist side by side with its masters. Feeling deeply and keenly the tendencies and opportunities of the age in which they live, their souls are bitter at the fate which drops the Veil between; and the very fact that this bitterness is natural and justifiable only serves to intensify it and make it more maddening.

In the North, on the other hand, the tendency is to emphasize the Black man’s radicalism. He is driven from his birthright in the South by conditions that his outspoken, assertive nature rebels against completely. In the North, he can barely earn a decent living amid fierce competition and racial discrimination. At the same time, schools, publications, discussions, and lectures stimulate and awaken his mind. His soul, long confined and stunted, suddenly expands in its newfound freedom. Is it any wonder that every tendency goes to extremes: radical complaints, radical solutions, bitter condemnation, or angry silence? Some sink, some rise. Criminals and those devoted to sensual pleasure leave the church for gambling dens and brothels, filling Chicago’s and Baltimore’s slums. The better-off classes separate themselves from the community life of both white and Black people. They form a cultured but pessimistic aristocracy whose bitter criticism stings but points to no way out. They despise the submission and servility of Southern Black people. But they offer no other way for a poor, oppressed minority to live alongside its masters. They feel deeply and sharply the trends and opportunities of their age. Their souls are bitter at the fate that places the Veil between them and those opportunities. The very fact that their bitterness is natural and justified only intensifies it and makes it more maddening.

Between the two extreme types of ethical attitude which I have thus sought to make clear wavers the mass of the millions of Negroes, North and South; and their religious life and activity partake of this social conflict within their ranks. Their churches are differentiating,—now into groups of cold, fashionable devotees, in no way distinguishable from similar white groups save in color of skin; now into large social and business institutions catering to the desire for information and amusement of their members, warily avoiding unpleasant questions both within and without the black world, and preaching in effect if not in word: Dum vivimus, vivamus.

Most of the millions of Black people, North and South, waver between the two extreme moral attitudes I have described. Their religious life and activity reflect this social conflict within their own ranks. Their churches are developing in different directions. Some are becoming groups of cold, fashionable worshippers, no different from similar white groups except in skin color. Others are becoming large social and business institutions, satisfying their members’ desire for information and amusement. These churches carefully avoid uncomfortable questions both within and outside the Black community. In practice, if not in words, they preach: While we live, let us live.

But back of this still broods silently the deep religious feeling of the real Negro heart, the stirring, unguided might of powerful human souls who have lost the guiding star of the past and seek in the great night a new religious ideal. Some day the Awakening will come, when the pent-up vigor of ten million souls shall sweep irresistibly toward the Goal, out of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, where all that makes life worth living—Liberty, Justice, and Right—is marked “For White People Only.”

But beneath all this, deep religious feeling still rests silently in the true Black heart. It is the stirring, unguided strength of powerful human souls who have lost the guiding star of the past. In the great night, these souls seek a new religious ideal. Some day the Awakening will come. Then the pent-up strength of ten million souls will sweep irresistibly toward the Goal, out of the Valley of the Shadow of Death. In that Valley, all that makes life worth living, Liberty, Justice, and Right, is marked “For White People Only.”