By the standards of the early nineteenth century, African-Americans were said to be "a wretched stock of heathen, in utter darkness of a loathsome pagan idolatry." Various plantation owners expressed the concern that "the superstitions brought from Africa have not been wholly laid aside." Witchcraft, alleged superstitions, and fetishist practices were often cited as evidence that the plantation slave refused to abandon African paganism for American Christianity.

There certainly may have been an element of truth to these observations about the persistence of African-American spirituality in the face of efforts of whites to erase it. The Ashanti had a folk saying that "No one shows a child the Supreme Being." Although the African's world was populated by a plurality of powers, including the forces of nature and a legion of magical spirits, most tribes believed in a Supreme Being who was viewed as a creator, giver of rain, and sunshine, the all-seeing one, the one who exists by himself. Moreover traditional African religion made no distinction between the sacred and secular. All of life--not part--was sacred. Nor was there any sense of a division between this life and the one to come. All of life was part of a continuum in which both the living and dead took part. Long before their contact with whites, Africans were a strongly religious, and deeply spiritual people.

The African beliefs in one Supreme Being, in a realistic distinction between good and evil, in lesser spiritual powers, and in creation as the handiwork of God, paralleled much in the Hebraic background of Christianity. These similarities lessened the cultural shock as the African came into contact with the tenets of White Evangelicalism. But on occasion there was conflict. A white Methodist reported an aged Negro--to whom he had been trying to explain the dogma of the Trinity--once asked which of the three "was the head man to which he should go when asking for anything."

Africanisms within African American Spirituality

For some time, there has been a debate over the extent and persistence of Africanisms in the religious life of American blacks. There seems to be a consensus that African cultural forms were not as overwhelmed by the slavery experience as was formerly believed. Clearly, many of the slave's beliefs were the result of a free exchange between African and Anglo-Saxon cultures. Religious institutions among the slaves were not specifically African, but African religious behavior was not totally effaced, as is clear from black music, dance and folk practices. The religion of the slaves then was something more than conventional white Evangelicalism.

During this early period there were clear Africanisms that were retained in African American spirituality. The world of the slave was populated by petulant spirits, whose demands had to be gratified, and these demands were often answered through the rituals and dogmas of what seemed to be (to whites) a pagan faith. These rituals and dogmas were variously described as Voodoo, Hoodoo, Witchcraft, and Superstitions, and were particularly prominent among the Gullah speakers of South Carolina.

Whites often commented on these "pagan practices," and fetishes, and were threatened by them. As a result, great effort was expended on eradicating these practices, and many were lost within a generation. The degree to which whites were successful in this, however, is the subject of great debate. Melville J. Herskovits has advanced the thesis that the success of Baptists in attracting blacks is rooted in the appeal of immersion which suggests a connection in the slaves' mind with the river spirits in West African Religions. Others have attacked this position including, the black scholar E. Franklin Frazier who argues that enslavement largely destroyed the social basis of religion among blacks, and that the appeal of Baptists to blacks concerns the emotional content of their worship. Stanley Elkins (whose views were heavily influenced by what took place in the concentration camps of World War II Europe), has argued--like Frazier--that slavery was so demeaning that blacks (like the Jews in the camps) were eventually stripped of every shred of dignity and humanity, including their faith. John Blassingame, on the other hand, has provided a significant body of evidence that blacks hung on to their religion as a form of resistance.

What is clear is that African-Americans were fairly quick to adopt the prevailing evangelical culture. Although slaves who were born and reared in the tribal culture remembered their native religion, the second and third generation of slaves born on the plantations had no such memories. For those slaves, Christianity was not grafted onto the living tree of African religion. Instead these plantation-born African-Americans incorporated into their Christianity certain beliefs and practices that paralleled those of traditional tribal cults. One example of this interaction between African heritage and Christianity may be the love of baptism by immersion evidenced by slaves. Although, Herskovits has been attacked for pointing to the possible relationship between baptism and West African river cults, when Frederick Law Olmstead toured the slave states he was told that most Negroes "ain't content to be just titch'd with water, they must be ducked in all over." Even Blacks who joined the Methodist church wanted to be immersed. And there is reason to believe that they were attracted to the immersion ceremonies of the Baptists because of the importance of flowing waters to the river cults of Africa.

The Mission to the Slaves

As we have already seen, the shifting of attitudes towards slavery resulted in profound changes in Southern society in general, and in religious circles in particular. In the 1780's, Methodists--who represent a standard example--had formulated standard rules against slavery, and slaveholders. Slavery was deemed to be "contrary to the laws of God, man and nature, and hurtful to society, contrary to the dictates of conscience and pure religion." Indeed, by 1784 Methodists were so bold as to say that they "promised to excommunicate all Methodists not freeing their slaves within two years." By 1820, however, the Methodist church in the South was increasingly at one with its culture on the issue of race, and was advocating a "Mission to the Slaves."

As the conflict over slavery heated up, and as news of the Vesey conspiracy broke in 1822, and word spread about the rebellion of Nat Turner in 1831, a great fear enveloped whites. Fearing for their lives, their investments, the civil peace, and the preservation of the South's way of life, whites demanded--and their state legislatures passed--laws curtailing the right of African-Americans to assemble, to worship, to become literate, and to do much more, except under strictly controlled circumstances. At the same time, this fear and anxiety was producing an outpouring of concern to make Christians of the slaves in the hope that they might learn to turn the other cheek, and to accept their lot in life.

In the early decades of the nineteenth century, Christianity had made little or no in-roads among blacks for fear that they might take literally such narratives as the Exodus. But in this Crisis of Fear, suddenly impressive efforts were launched to address the "needs" of the souls of black folk. These were well organized evangelistic endeavors, particularly in those areas with large plantations. Congregations stepped up their appeals, and refined their approaches to African-Americans. Preachers and planters alike urged them to fill the galleries, and special seating that was set aside for these honored guests. Some owners were even motivated to build "praise houses" on their land, and recruited black preachers to proclaim the Lord's name (as long--of course--as a white foreman was present to monitor things so that they did not get out of hand). Large slaveholders like the Rev. Charles Colcock Jones worked to comprise a Christian primer for slaves to instill teachings that were designed as a response to the portents of revolution, and to serve as preventive measures to any insurrection.

I do not mean to suggest that the whole effort to evangelize the slaves was motivated by a concern for safety. Certainly, there were numbers of whites who cared about blacks, both as persons possess of immortal souls, and as friends with names. Many others saw the mission to the slaves as an unfolding of God's divine plan and these early evangelistic efforts as the first step in a long process that would eventually lead to the converting of the heathen of the dark continent. But there were many others who sought to pacify and comfort the slaves, to make them more dutiful and servile, and to defer any gratification they may long for in this life to the next. In other words, the motives of White Southerners were decidedly mixed. Often there was a genuine recognition of the human needs of African Americans, but rare was the time when members of the "Ruling Race" would overlook the unique caste and economic status of black people.

It would be difficult to determine whose religion--that of African-Americans or that of whites--was more profoundly affected by this preoccupation with racial matters during the antebellum period. On the surface, it would appear that the religion of black people was. But the reality is that both were profoundly affected. Very little of what the white church attempted and accomplished from 1830 to the Civil War, was not dominated by racial and interracial considerations.

Conversion to Christianity

Antebellum Christians felt that to be properly converted one must have a dramatic conviction of one's sin and be "born again." Not surprisingly, as slaves were converted they also told how they were seized by the Spirit, struck dead--as it were--and raised to new life. Conversion could take place in a field, in the woods, at a camp meeting, in the slave quarters or a service conducted by the blacks themselves. John Jasper, a famous Negro preacher in antebellum Richmond, was converted while at work as a stemmer in a tobacco factory. Before this event Jasper felt as if he were in the pit of despair and his sins as large as mountains. But after a confrontation with the Spirit, slaves like Jasper felt like new men and women. A black revival preacher by the name of Pompey was so amazed by the change that came over him, that he doubted he was the same person. Then "he looked at his hands and felt of his wool, and found it was Pompey's skin and Pompey's wool but it was Pompey with a new heart."

Conversion to Christianity did more for the slave than to simply make him or her docile. It served to give the slave a fixed point of reference in a world filled with uncertainty, contradiction, and crisis. Conversion involved the discovery by the slaves that God was not remote and unconcerned, but at their side in all the sufferings of daily life. Josiah Henson recalled a sermon on a text from Hebrews which told of Christ having tasted death "for every man." "O the blessedness and sweetness of feeling that I was LOVED," he exclaimed. This was in sharp contrast to the brutality he experienced daily from his master.

The Encounter with Hypocrisy

Interestingly, the life of the slave was sometimes made more miserable because he or she professed to be a Christian or sought to practice their religion. Unwilling to recognize blacks as their spiritual equals, there were some whites who put pressure on their slaves to surrender the faith. An ex-slave from Virginia recalled how some Southerners would rather have the Negro fiddling and dancing than praying and preaching. A slave who wished to be baptized needed his master's permission and might be whipped if he failed to obtain it. Planters were known to violate the Christian principles of pious slaves by forcing them to work on the sabbath and encouraging old vices. Slaves were constantly forced to choose between duty and religion. As one slave put it, "a slave cannot pray right, when, while on his knees, he hears his Master, 'here John'--and he must leave his God and go to his Master."

Others viewed Christian morality as good for their slaves, but not for themselves. Harriet Jacobs told the story of a slaveholder by the name of Litch who had a very peculiar notion of what "Thou shalt not steal" meant:

"On his own plantation he required very strict obedience to the eighth commandment. But depredations on the neighbors were allowable, provided the culprit managed to evade detection or suspicion. If a neighbor brought a charge of theft against any of his slaves, he was browbeaten by the master who assured him that his slaves had enough of everything at home, and had no inducement to steal. No sooner was the neighbor's back turned than the accused was sought out, and whipped for lack of discretion."

The Reverend John Long honestly admitted his frustration in preaching to the slaves. They could not but be suspicious of the Christian gospel, he felt, when they daily observed whites who were assumably Christian violating its basic tenets. He was surprised that many of the slaves did not become "secret infidels."

Indeed, black criticism of the hypocrisy of Southern white religion is a prominent theme in the slave narratives. Slaves were able to judge inconsistency of conduct by holding up the performance of their masters and mistresses against the mirror of common humanity and the Christian gospel. They especially condemned the whites who prayed with them on Sunday and beat them on Monday. Slaves were also critical of the kind of preaching which was obviously motivated by a desire to keep them in their place rather than offer them the freedom of the Gospel. Daniel Payne told a group of Lutherans in 1839 that he had often seen Negroes in the South scoff at the slave holding white clergy while they were preaching, saying, "you had better go home and set your slaves free." He had often witnessed house servants sneering and laughing among themselves when summoned to family prayers by their mistress for they knew she would only read, "Servants obey your masters," and not "break every yoke and let the oppressed go free." Slaves were able to distinguish between the truths of the Word, and the professed practice of their masters." Most were certain they were closer to God than most whites.

The slaves, it must be said, were not blind to the existence of pious white Christians who did the best they could to live up to the demands of their faith. Slaves seemed to have developed a deep feeling of gratitude toward those plantation missionaries who braved the rigors of climate and travel to minister to them. One group of slaves collected $45 to buy a suit for their preacher. One minister related that during his first year the blacks in his care would see him coming and say, "Yonder comes the preacher;" the second year, "our preacher;" and the third, "my preacher."

African-American Evangelicalism

Denominations such as the Episcopalians and Presbyterians which stressed order did not attract the slaves. Most African-Americans instead gravitated to the emotionalism of the Methodists and Baptists. Indeed, in a number of ways the religion of the South's black population shared much more in common with the Evangelical Protestantism of the region's whites than it diverged from it. After all, it was the evangelicals among Southern whites who were motivated to bring the slaves to the Christian faith. These evangelicals imparted to the black church many of their forms and practices. (You may recall that earlier in the semester I argued that black religion preserves intact what was probably true for white evangelicals in the nineteenth century.)

But blacks also bequeathed something back to the evangelical tradition. There is fair body of evidence that suggests some whites copied certain practices of black worshippers. Shouting in worship, for example, was one such borrowing. Many blacks looked down on whites who shouted in worship being poor copies of themselves, or in the parlance of our day, as "wanna- be's." The call and response pattern also appears to be derived from the African heritage. point.

Even though Black evangelicalism shared much in common with its white counterpart, when African-Americans held their own services, whether approved and overseen by whites or held clandestinely ("stealing away to Jesus"), they added their own flourishes and unique styles to the white religious legacy. In so doing, they created an "invisible institution," a church that was their own. Because Black evangelicalism was not identical to its white counterpart, the points of difference between the two tell us a great deal about the religious world of the slave.

One of these differences was the expressiveness of spirit came to characterize black religion. While it is true that White Methodists and Baptists were also expressive, as the Reverend Henry Mitchell suggests, "the whites were fiery mad, while the blacks were fiery glad." For Black Christians, the message was presented unvarnished and the response was uninhibited. Such bad news as one's eternal damnation called for a groaning and bewailing befitting one's anguish and sorrow. Such good news as God's gracious offer of forgiveness through the love of Christ's sacrificial death was received with shouts of joy and praise for blessed release. This expressiveness meant that most blacks felt inhibited in white churches, even though many were seen at the altar along with whites.

Most African-Americans found their spiritual needs met in secret. They would gather in hush arbors and praying grounds. A pot would be turned over to hold in the noise, and in the safety of the wee hours or a secluded location, they could express themselves freely, and interpret their faith as they saw fit.

The Development of a Contextual Ethic

As Black Christians had the opportunity to develop their own styles of preaching and singing they did so. The preacher may have been unlettered, but his preaching was far from theologically illiterate. He knew all he needed to know--the biblical message of salvation--and a rich intimate awareness of the Savior who lived in the believer's heart. Slaves were highly critical--in these settings--of white preaching that tried to keep them in their place. They saw sermons on stealing--for instance--as self-serving in that it tended to hide a greater evil. It was alright to steal a ham--they reasoned--if it was needed to feed one's family. This theology is reflected in a song sung by the slaves:

Slaves that could get advantage of their owners through deception or trickery felt they had a perfect right to do so. When James Pennington was captured during an escape attempt, he told his captors that he had hid out with slaves who had small-pox. When they dispersed to avoid contagion, he escaped once more. Often slaves had to resort to petty theft as a means of supplementing their meager diet. One slave caught stealing from his master's corn crib was as "punctilious as a Pharisee" in his Sabbath observance, but had no qualms about taking the corn. He told his master, "Nigger take wat nigger raises." Another who was found guilty of stealing his master's meat from the smokehouse, said he was simply moving it from "out of one tub and putting it in another. The ownership of the meat was not affected by the transaction. At first he owned it in the tub, and last he owned it in me." Booker T. Washington's mother was forced to steal eggs to feed her family. "Perhaps by some code of ethics," Washington wrote, this would be classed as stealing, but deep down in my heart I can never decide that my mother, under such circumstances was guilty of theft.

As these examples make clear, slaves worked out a contextual ethic in the demands of day to day living. They were not willing to be duped by a sham Christian piety which was mandatory for slaves but not for the masters. "When a man has his wages stolen from him year after year," one wrote, "and the laws sanction and enforce the theft, how can he be expected to have more regard to honesty than the man who robs him." We would be in error, however, if we assumed that when the Christian slave had to resort to theft or deception, he did so without a sense of the moral issues involved.

Slavery was brutalizing in its effect on blacks, but it did not destroy the Christian slave's basic sense of right and wrong. James Pennington, the slave I mentioned a moment ago who lied to escape his captors spoke of his "intense horror at a system which can put a man not only in peril of liberty, limb and life itself, but which can even send him in haste to the bar of God with a lie on his lips." Slaves did not think it right to steal from one another. Those who did so were called as "mean as master" or "just as mean as white folks." The complaint made by whites that the slaves had no understanding of the Christian ethic cannot be sustained. Southerners were judging the slaves according to a standard of piety which protected the interests of the master but denied justice and mercy for the slave. The slaves acted according to a standard of piety which was based on principles of the true Gospel as they understood it. When the two came into conflict, the slave appealed to a higher law.

Black Preachers

At camp meetings, an ex-slave recalled, "mostly we had white preachers, but when we had a black preacher that was heaven." There were many kinds of black preachers in the South. Some were under the direct supervision of the white churches and were known as exhorters, deacons, or watchmen. As early as 1800, Methodists licensed certain Negroes as local preachers and gave them "all the privileges which are usual to others in the district and quarterly conferences, where the usages of the country do not forbid it." Southern Baptists freely ordained blacks until about 1830 when slaveholding states began to restrict preaching by all blacks. Most slave preachers were self ordained, the only prerequisite being a call of God. Black preachers, regardless of their status, were easily the most important figures in the religious life of the slaves.

Black preachers were often despised and feared by white southerners. Olmstead discovered that the bad character of slave preachers was a frequent subject of general conversation. One manager of a large Mississippi plantation told him such preachers used "their religion as a cloak for habits of special depravity" and were the most "deceitful and dishonest slaves on the plantation." Often they were beaten and imprisoned for stealing off into the woods at night to preach.

One justification used by white missionaries to the slaves is that they offered a counterbalance to the "ignorant spiritual guides among the slaves." One white minister complained "The preachers among them, although extremely ignorant, are frequently shrewd, cunning men. They see what influence religious feeling gives them over their brethren and they take advantage of it." Others encouraged blacks to preach, however. Bishop Holland Mc'Tyeire urged planters to make good use of those slaves who could read and write as preachers. Others doubted whether they should exclude men called of God even if they could.

Disagreement over the significance of the black preacher on the plantation has continued down to the present. One party argues that the slave preacher was so entirely under the dominion of whites that he was a traitor to his own race. Others have suggested that the slave preacher was more like a Denmark Vesey or Nat Turner than the Uncle Tom stereotype. In part this confusion is due to the failure to distinguish between the several roles they filled. Basically four types: (1) Minister, (2) exhorter (3) self-appointed preachers, (4) cult leaders.

Harry Hosier or "black Harry" was one such example of a minister. He labored alongside Coke and Asbury. He was such a good preacher, he was once mistaken for Asbury by someone who could hear but not see him. Lott Carey, a Baptist, eventually went to Liberia, and was officially recognized by his denomination. Most black preachers accompanied white ministers, and would preach to mixed audiences. Whites were so attracted to the preaching of Henry Evans that blacks in the crowd were forced to move to two sheds built to handle the overflow. In 1828, the Alabama Baptist Association bought the freedom of Caesar Blackwell so he could preach where he liked.

As the above examples indicate, despite the increasing racial proscription in the mid- 1800's, many Black preachers developed a significant following across the South among both whites and blacks. John Jasper of Virginia was one such man. Slaves would defer funeral ceremonies for as long as necessary to bring him to the plantation for the service. And Jasper was equally popular among whites. During the Civil War, Jasper won a warm response from the Confederate wounded to whom he preached and offered solace.

One the surface, Jasper's preaching sounded unlettered, but his message was informed with a profound theology. His most famous sermon was entitled "De Sun DO Move' an De Earth Am Square." He gave this sermon hundreds of times to both whites and blacks, who listened to it, but what his listeners heard depended on their race.

Jasper had heard that some heretics were misleading his people into believing that the earth moved around a stationary sun, and so he choose to respond to this new scientific understanding. When he arose to speak many of Richmond's most fashionable whites and the countryside's poorest slaves had flocked to hear him. Jasper went on to proclaim that "Joshuar tell de sun ter stand' still till he could finish whippin de enemy an de sun was travellin' long dar thew de sky when it stops for Joshuar. It stopt fer business an' it went on when it got thew." The whites had come for their own amusement, and many left laughing at what they considered to be Jasper's childish ignorance.

But they missed the power of what Jasper was saying. Although he sounded illiterate to them, this man was fully capable of perfect English. Using (for want of a better term) Black English, he was putting forward the proposition that God could intervene to alter the natural order. And what was slavery according to whites? It was part of the natural order of things. In their own hearing, Jasper was proclaiming that "the God of Joshuar" could and would intervene to save his people. He was putting forward a damning critique of their position and few if any whites who heard him recognized it. But slaves did not miss the point.

Other revolutionary themes were also implicit in the preaching of men like Jasper, themes that were very clear to Blacks, but opaque to whites. When the Bible taught that Jesus came to die for everyone, African-Americans knew that meant them as well. The story of Adam and Eve and as it was told by Black Preachers, had Adam becoming so frightened by his sin that he turned white.

Nor did Blacks accept the pro-slavery argument that their condition was a result of a curse for the sin of Ham. Yes, the conditions in which they lived were evil. But they did not see themselves as being evil. (This rejection of Original Sin probably reflects a survival in that West African religions tended to be life-affirming rather than guilt inducing.)

Obviously, circumstances changed with the insurrection of Nat Turner, and the outbreak of abolitionism. Most states passed laws prohibiting African-Americans--both free and slave-- from preaching. Others controlled licensing. In the state of Georgia, one had to pass test by court and three white clergy. In Alabama, five slaveholders had to attend any service where blacks preached.

Exhorters, the second category of black preachers, were not ordained, and were slaves selected to assist members in their Christian walk, by warnings, reproofs, and exhortations of a private nature. These individuals taught children prayers, visited the sick, and often were given special privileges and clothing by the master in an effort to entice him to do the Master's bidding. And often it worked. The exhorter would teach people to obey their masters.

Yet if the exhorter were honest with himself, he knew there was another gospel than the one Master's liked to hear. That was the gospel of freedom. One ex-slave told the Federal Writer's Project that when he first began preaching he had to say what his master wanted him to, that is, to "tell them niggers iffen they obeys the master they goes to Heaven." But he knew there was something better for the slaves when he preached to them on the sly. He recalled: "I tells them iffen they keeps praying, the Lord will set them free." Sometimes such sentiments came out with whites present. One exhorter got carried away and exclaimed: "free indeed, free from hell, free from work, from the white folks, free from everything."

The most radical black preachers were the self-appointed ones. Their call was from God and no one could take that away. These individuals were viewed as a threat "to the order and happiness of the community." Nat Turner was one such figure. No Church authorized him to preach, but he believed he was called to deliver his people from slavery. And as a result, he put together a message of religion and resistance that struck a responsive cord. The insurrection of 1831 led the South to blame all black preachers for the emerging discontent.

Finally, there were the cult leaders who practiced voodoo. These individuals were frowned on by black church leaders. Perhaps that is because they had a strong holds on slaves who feared their magic. Many of their rituals can be traced back to certain African practices. The black sorcerer who conspired with Denmark Vesey in 1822 was a native born Angolan. The downfall of these cult leaders occurred when slaves followed their directions only to discover their magic had no power. Herbs, roots, and potions, often proved no match for the rawhide of the master's whip. One ex-slave put it this way: "They had in those days a Hoodoo nigger who could hoodoo niggers but couldn't hoodoo masters. He couldn't make ole master stop whipping him with the hoodooism."

Steal Away To Jesus

Group religious activity--not conjuration--seems to have provided many slaves with a more effective means of relief from the day to day oppression of plantation life. They often stole off and gathered for "a real meetin' with some real preachin'." Ex-slaves reported that some of the best times they had were when they could shout and sing without the intimidating presence of whites. The slaves looked forward to those times when at a camp meeting or in the "hush- arbor" they could worship God as they pleased and encourage one another to keep a stout heart."

Such meetings, however, were a flagrant violation of the police regulations of the "peculiar institution." Some masters would sneak to the slave quarters late at night to insure they were where they belonged. And despite efforts to keep such meetings a secret, they would often be broken up by police patrol.

Still the slaves persisted. Often late at night they would take their large cooking kettle or pot and turn it upside down to keep the sounds of the meeting from reaching the master's ears. Their light would be provided by a pine torch or grease in a pan or bottle. To mark the way to the place of worship, they would break branches along the way so others could follow. One described the worship in these meetings:

"The way in which we worshipped is almost indescribable. The singing was accompanied by a certain ecstasy of motion, clapping of hands, tossing of heads, which would continue without cessation about half an hour; one would lead off in a kind of recitative style, others joining in the chorus. The ole house partook of the ecstasy; it rang with their jubilant shouts, and shook in all its joints."

Some have argued that such emotional forms were hold-overs from Africa. But they were also true of white evangelical camp-meetings. Indeed, I've already argued that the emotions expressed in the worship of the black church may well be a preservation of the folk-ways of the Second Great Awakening.

Another such legacy of the Second Great Awakening may be the spirituals that were sung in these meetings. Most were composed by slaves who could not read or write. Some scholars view these spirituals as legacies of African origin, while others argue they served to communicate information. Those who take this position argue, for instance, that references to the Lord are in fact references to Yankees. An example is: "We'll soon be free when da Lord call us home." Another example is Canaan which meant "the North." "O Canaan, sweet Canaan, I'm bound for the land of Canaan. Still another example was the "Promised Land". This was a reference to a time when the slave would be delivered from his troubles.

Some Concluding Remarks:

There are those who categorically state that the religion of the slaves was dysfunctional because it was escapist or otherworldly. These persons fail to account for the psychic needs of black men and women in circumstances where there was little chance of temporal change. Slaves often testified that it was the Christian gospel that gave them the courage to stand up under the dehumanization of slavery. The Christian bondsman discovered that the master might beat the body but he could not destroy the soul.

African-American religion dealt with life as blacks lived it. It was about pain and sorrow, sin and shortcoming, pardon and joy, praise and thanksgiving, grace and hope. This version of Evangelicalism provided a great benefit; it was able to accomplish great things in their lives that were frequently shouted about.

Blacks may well have rediscovered during slavery the original meaning of Christianity-- that Jesus came into the world not to confirm the mighty in their seats of power but to exalt the humble and meek. The Christian slaves believed they--like Israel of old--were called upon to bear an extra burden, to be as Joseph Washington has suggested, "God's humanizing agents." It was this sense of mission that gave the slave a feeling of superiority over the hypocritical piety of the slave-holder. Because masters did not read the Scriptures the right way, one ex-slave said, "...they don't know their danger." Moses Grandy remembered how during violent thunderstorms whites hid between their feather beds, but the slaves would go outside and lifting up their hands, thank God that judgement day was coming at last.

All in all, the attempt to keep the full gospel from the slaves was a failure. Christianity, with its message that God is no respecter of persons, could not, like the Master's corn and hogs, be kept under lock and key. An English actress Ann Francis Kemble wrote in the late 1830's about the slaveholder's attempts to dole out the Gospel:

"The process is a very ticklish one...they are putting their own throats and their own souls in jeopardy by their very endeavor to serve God and Mammon. The light they are letting in between their fingers will presently strike them blind, and the mighty flood of truth which they are straining through a sieve to the thirsty lips of their slaves shall sweep them away like straws from their cautious moorings, and overwhelm them in its great deeps, to the waters of which man may in no wise say, thus far shall ye come and no farther!

Ms. Kemble's words would prove to be prophetic.