It can be argued that the reason for the triumph of the Haitian Revolution, the only successful rebellion of enslaved Africans in the New World, was because of the adherence to traditional African religious systems.[1]  That is to say, when African people function from their cultural foundation, their ethics, morals, languages, et cetera, dynamic things have and can take place.  Though the Haitian Revolution was clearly centered on the Haitian people delivering themselves from the cruelty of their French enslavers, there are legends and myths which push the belief that the only reason for the achievements of the enslaved of the island and the overall success of the Revolution was due to the loyalty of the people to their original African customs, mores, and Gods.[2]   And, if one took this perspective at face value, it can be stated that the Gods of Ifá did well by their worshippers, because despite all of the country’s issues (both current and historical), the Republic of Haiti is a free nation, and is the only free African nation in the Western Hemisphere.[3] 

Religion for the nation of Haiti is quite thick and complex.  It is true that Haiti is nation where Voodoo (or Ifá) is one of the major religions.  However, Catholicism is also very prevalent.  Academically, this screams syncretism: the combining of religious traditions in order to form a complete religious/spiritual tradition, especially for those who are displaced and/or oppressed.  Further, the syncretism of the Haitian Revolution is quite complex, adding elements of Islam, Ifá and Christianity to a spiritual gumbo that helped to shape the whole of the Western world.  With that in mind, the following essays will work to dissect the complex religion of the Haitian Revolution.  In an effort to focus this discussion, I will survey the belief systems of the major leaders of the Haitian Revolution: Toussaint ĽOverture, Dutty Boukman, Jean-Jacques Dessalines and their closet constituents.  What will become clear is that enslaved African people of Haiti used every spiritual tool at their disposal to secure their independence.

As early 1789 rebels of the island of Saint-Domingue, inspired in part by the French revolution and emboldened by their lot, began turning the wheels of upheaval.  Many free and enslaved people of color began pushing for more rights as humans and laborers under the yoke of the French Empire.   However, while 1789 may have been the beginning of the push towards freedom for the African inhabitants of Haiti, the winds of war fully matured in the summer of 1791.  To elaborate, sometime in August a Voodoo ceremony was held at Bois Caïman.[4]  At this gathering a number of enslaved Africans from various plantations were represented.  According to record and legend, this is the (in)famous meeting where the people of Haiti allegedly made a pact with the “Devil” in order to win their freedom from “les blancs”.[5] 

The meeting was lead by Dutty Boukman, a well-known Voodoo priest who served on plantations both in Haiti and Jamaica.  Boukman, originally from Jamaica, was a self-educated man who was renown for teaching his enslaved compatriots how to read and write.  It is said that Dutty’s name – Boukman – is a variation of “Book man”, a nick-name given to him by the English of Jamaica.  However, other sources argue that “Boukman” is a nod to his Islamic heritage, the name actually meaning: Man of the Book.[6]  Regardless of his name origin, his reputation earned him the disdain of the enslavers of Jamaica, but more importantly, because of his repute, he was sold to an enslaver in Haiti, where he would help to define the history of the Western Hemisphere.

At Bois Caïman, Dutty Boukman was accompanied by Cécile Fatiman, a Voodoo priestess of both African and European ancestry.[7]  Her mother was brought from the African continent, though from which region or from what nation it is not clear; and her father was Corsican.  She was a necessary element of the meeting at Bois Caïman because she was a Mambo - female High Priest - and because the masculine and feminine energies of Ifá needed to be balanced before the rebels took to their cause.  At the ceremony it is said that Fatiman was possessed by the Goddess Erzulie Freda a polyandrous (having multiple husbands) deity of love and beauty.[8]  As well, to bless the ceremony and their future efforts in the rebellion, a wild boar was sacrificed to seal the bond between themselves and the Loa they beckoned to for freedom.

This ceremony, for Haitians, is the official start of the revolution.  Within a week of the meeting at Bois Caïman, hundreds of slaveholders were killed and over a thousand plantations had been burned to the ground.  In an effort to quell the melee, the French arrested Dutty Boukman and executed him, putting his body on display as an example.  This effort did not work, as the fighting continued unabated for over a decade. To this day the events of Bois Caïman are commemorated by Haitian citizens and lamented by evangelicals who confuse the appeasement of their God’s nemesis Satan with the ujima of the Haitian people and the Loa.[9]

Since this rebellion there have been many calamities that have befallen the Republic of Haiti: hurricanes, poverty, disease.  According to Pat Robertson these disasters, both nature and man-made, have struck Haiti because of divine punishment for the events at Bois Caïman.[10]  That is to say, for some the Christian God is mad at Haiti for entrusting their freedom to the Gods of Ifá.  There are many problems with this perspective, but for argument’s sake, let’s examine the most obvious contradiction of this mindset.  For one, if Haiti’s poverty and tumultuous history is evidence of God punishing Haiti for appealing to the Loa to intercede on their behalf, as it has been suggested, then God wanted Haiti’s Black population to remain oppressed under the heel of the French.  Otherwise, since God had the power to inflict divine justice on the French for their deeds, but chose not to, and has been punishing the Haitians for two centuries instead, then it is clear that God wanted to keep Haitians enslaved. This line of logic begs the question posed years ago by William Jones: “Is God a White Racist?”.

​The text, Is God a White Racist? puts to task the notion of a benevolent God in light of the very malevolent history experienced by African people.[11]  He argues that either we deal with the notion that there is no benevolent God figure therefore humanity must be responsible for its own victories and horrors, or we concede that God has it out for Black and other oppressed people, evidenced the overall success of white supremacy.   The reaction by evangelicals to Haiti, over 200 years after the Island won its independence, forces reconsideration of James’ thesis.  Do White Christians knowingly and willingly serve a deity that takes pleasure in the torturous oppression of African people, or are they just culturally tone-deaf and oblivious to their own theological contradictions?  Though the question is rhetorical, it does reveal a fundamental departure of basic notions of what the value of human life means for White evangelicals.  The convergence of human and spiritual power at Bois Caïman was a cry for help under the cruelty of the French.  If the Christian God did not have the divine fortitude or desire to answer the prayers of those downtrodden and oppressed people, then it made sense that Haitians put their fate in the hands of their own Gods.


[1] “Success” in this context is measured by the fact that Haiti is the only independent African nation in the Western Hemisphere and that distinction has been carried by the inhabitants of Haiti since 1803. 

[2] Ryan Smith. "Pat Robertson: Haiti ‘Cursed’After ‘Pact to the Devil.’." CBS News 13 (2010).  Pat Robertson, an American Christian evangelical, claimed that the success of the Haitian Revolution was because the people of the island swore allegiance to the “Devil”. 

[3] There is, of course, no way to know which God(s) served which side in the Haitian Revolution.  Not to mention the fundamental implausibility of divine beings involving themselves in the squabbles of human beings.

[4] David Geggus. "The Bois Caïman Ceremony." The Journal of Caribbean History 25, no. 1 (1991): 41.

[5] David Patrick Greggus and Norman Fiering, eds. The World of the Haitian Revolution. Indiana University Press, 2009.  Lowell Ponte.  Haiti: Victim of Clinton’s Old Black Magic.  (FrontPage Magazine, February 20, 2004).

[6] Sylviane Anna Diouf.  Servants of Allah: African Muslims Enslaved in the Americas. (New York: New York University Press, 1998), 153.

[7] Joan Dayan.  Haiti, History and the Gods.  (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998).

[8] Richard M. Juang.  Africa and the Americaa: Culture, Politics and History.  (ABC-CLIO, 2008.

[9] Ujima is a Swahili term meaning collective work and responsibility.

[10] Ryan Smith. "Pat Robertson: Haiti ‘Cursed’ After ‘Pact to the Devil.’." CBS News 13 (2010). 

[11] William Ronald Jones. Is God a white racist?: A preamble to black theology. Beacon Press, 1973.

The right to religious interpretation and understanding has not been lost through the trek of African diasporic history.  There is and has been a consistent drive from the purveyors of religious life that shapes both conflict and calm.  That is to say, religion is as much of a reason for struggle as it is for peace.  In the case of Samuel Sharpe of Jamaica and his influential role in the Baptist Rebellion of 1831 it was the former rather than the latter.  For Sharpe, the interpretation of Biblical scripture by those who called themselves master and an interpretation nurtured by the enslaved was the fundamental crux of the problem.  Meaning, the ability to read one’s self and experience into the religious text in an effort to siphon as much spiritual nourishment and direction as possible is critically important for any people.  Through the efforts of Sharpe religion was no longer to be a prison of the oppressed, but a weapon, fashioned specifically to strike at the heart of injustice. 

The life of Samuel Sharpe began in Saint James parish of Jamaica.[1]  He was born sometime in 1805 to a woman named Eve and an unknown father.  Though Sharpe was born into slavery to an enslaver named Archer Sharpe, he was well educated and respected among the enslaved of Jamaica.[2]  As Sharpe grew into adulthood he became involved with the Baptist Church and eventually became a well-respected preacher for both whites and blacks of the island.  As such, he traveled around the island preaching keenly about the prospect of freedom; not just freedom through the grace of God, but actual physical freedom to be experienced by the living through the destruction of the peculiar institution. 

After a time he we named deacon of the Burchell Baptist Church of Montego Bay under the tutelage of Baptist missionary Thomas Burchell.[3]  He worked mainly as a traveling preacher Sharpe and therefore was able to witness the horrific conditions his African compatriots worked under; workers were treated inhumanely, most lived in absolute squalor and no relief was to come from those in power.  Moreover, conditions within the Baptist Church of Jamaica were equally problematic.   Most were promised peace and freedom in the hereafter while suffering under the whip of church leaders.  The culminations of these issues led to the unfolding of the Baptist Rebellion, also known as the Christmas rebellion or the Great Jamaican slave revolt.[4]  This rebellion was sparked as a direct response to the unacceptable working conditions for Jamaica’s black population.  However, before the Baptist Rebellion turned bloody, it began as a strike where workers demanded a working wage, which was described as: “half the going wage rate”.[5]  This was a modest request but unthinkable for those in power who had ran the economy of Jamaica by free labor for decades. 

During the strike African workers refused to do any labor until their demands were met.  Moreover, the prospect of violence was only to be used if the plantation owners initiated it, which it eventually was.  As the name suggest the strike began on Christmas Day 1831 and quickly escalated into lethal violence.  When the dust settled, less that twenty whites were killed but over 200 blacks were dead.  However, the fallout from the revolt was dramatically worse; in the weeks and months following the rebellion over 300 Africans were murdered for various infractions, from being a co-conspirator in the rebellion to petty theft.  Like many rebellions of enslaved Africans, whites took the Christmas rebellion as an opportunity of remind their “beasts of burden” who was in power with a swift and brutal response of mass killings and torture. 

In addition to the inhumane working conditions that sparked the rebellion, it is argued that the revolt was also a response to the forced conversion of African Muslims of the island.  In the article The Jihad of 1831-1832: The Misunderstood Baptist Rebellion in Jamaica, author Sultana Afroz argues that the rebellion spread across the island quickly because of not just the oppression of African people but of African Muslims as well.[6]  African Muslims of Jamaica (as well as practitioners of traditional African religions) were forced to convert through coercion, intimidation, and torture.  In response to this, many African Muslims and other non-Christians hid their belief systems or cleverly infused them within Christian belief structures (syncretism) so that they may survive.  However, suppression had its limits on the Caribbean island and many Muslims used Sharpe’s rebellion as an opportunity for Jihad. 

Having said that, it must be noted that the Baptist Rebellion was an opportunity for many of the problems with the British labor system to be addressed.[7]  That is to say, while Sultana is correct in highlighting the issues that African Muslims had to face as part of the Jamaican slave system, unacceptable working conditions, spiritual suppression and brutality was the experience of most Africans on the island.[8]  So, when the opportunity came to strike back at that system, it was not missed regardless of one’s belief system.  The underlying quality that connected all who revolted was their African ancestry and the conditions under which they were forced to live and work.

Interestingly, there are some thought-provoking historical developments that surround the Baptist rebellion.  First, the year that the rebellion started, 1831, was the same year that Nat Turner seized the heart of South Carolina.  Though there is no direct connection to the actions of Turner and those of Sharpe, it is likely that enslavers of Jamaica were keenly aware Turner’s efforts, which took place in August.  Perhaps this inspired the swift response of the English landowners, as they did not want hordes of their former slaves methodically killing whites house-by-house on an island where the only escape was the Caribbean Sea.  Second, and most impactful, though Sharpe never tasted the freedom he envisioned, his efforts may be been the catalyst that led to the abolition of slavery on the island of Jamaica.  To elaborate, though legislation to end slavery came before the Jamaican Parliament early in 1831, it was decisively shot down.  However, in August of 1832 (several months after the rebellion ended) Parliament revisited the legislation in the form of the Act for the Abolition of Slavery; this time the law passed decisively.[9]

Again, there is no direct connection between Sharpe’s rebellion and that of Nat Turner, however the similarities between the uprisings are definitely noteworthy.  For example, both of the men were in privileged positions afforded them through the church.  This allowed for access to other enslaved people on different plantations.  As well, their social positions garnered a sense of trust by the enslavers, which would create the opportunity to connect and link with like-minded enslaved individuals across the island.  Further, seeing the obvious contradictions and conflicts between what was preached by the would-be spiritually righteous and what they practiced inspired forceful push back.  Both Sharpe and Turner felt it was their righteous duty to fight against this torturous system.  Meaning, that the demise of the slave system came from within the very institution that arguably did the most to hold up that system, the church.  What Sharpe (and Turner) did was turn that institution and its conflicting morals on its head to morally justify any push (even violent) for freedom.  So, in effect the church in many ways is responsible for the undoing of the slave system, even if it was indirectly, through the enslaved taking philosophical and spiritual agency for their own freedom. 


[1] Mary Reckord. "The Jamaica slave rebellion of 1831." Past & Present 40 (1968): 108-125.

[2] Sultana Afroz. "The jihad of 1831-1832: The misunderstood Baptist rebellion in Jamaica." Journal of Muslim minority affairs 21, no. 2 (2001): 227-243.

[3] Nicole N. Aljoe "Zombie Testimony: Creole Religious Discourse in West Indian Slave Narratives." In Creole Testimonies. (Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 119-144.

[4] Martin Henry.  Christmas Rebellion Pushed Emancipation.  December 27, 2015.  http://jamaica-gleaner.com/article/focus/20151227/christmas-rebellion-pushed-emancipation.  Accessed December 2017.

[5] Mary Reckord. "The Jamaica slave rebellion of 1831." Past & Present 40 (1968): 108-125.

[6] Sultana Afroz. "The jihad of 1831-1832: The misunderstood Baptist rebellion in Jamaica." Journal of Muslim minority affairs 21, no. 2 (2001): 227-243.

[7] Martin Henry.  Christmas Rebellion Pushed Emancipation.  December 27, 2015.  http://jamaica-gleaner.com/article/focus/20151227/christmas-rebellion-pushed-emancipation.  Accessed December 2017.

[8] Sultana Afroz. "The jihad of 1831-1832: The misunderstood Baptist rebellion in Jamaica." Journal of Muslim minority affairs 21, no. 2 (2001): 227-243.

[9] Martin Henry.  Christmas Rebellion Pushed Emancipation.  December 27, 2015.  http://jamaica-gleaner.com/article/focus/20151227/christmas-rebellion-pushed-emancipation.  Accessed December 2017.

              The Revolutionary period in the US had far reaching impact throughout the Atlantic world.  Though it was never labeled as a world war, the conflict had a wide range of global implications that shaped the US, Europe, Canada, the Caribbean and Africa.   Among the populace, many were caught up in the conflict and forced to choose sides based on geographic location and/or loyalties; some joined the war effort because they felt the war would help their social and/or political standing in one way or another.  As well, many people used the conflict as an opportunity to relocate and begin new lives by fleeing to a more hospitable territory or simply by taking advantage political/social openings that arose.  Boston King is one such individual who seemed to take every advantage offered to him during the Revolutionary War; he, like David George, used the conflict to secure his freedom and develop a religious institution that would impact the global African world.[1]

              King was born into enslavement in South Carolina in the year 1760.  His father was born in Africa but was brought to the US in chains in the mid-18th century.[2]  His mother was a Native American and an herbalist who was skilled in the healing arts.[3]   Though King was born into slavery, unlike his father and mother, he was a favorite of the captor who felt it important to teach him to read.[4]  Being extraordinarily intelligent and being the son of parents who knew freedom, Boston escaped a life of servitude and joined the British ranks at a garrison near Charleston.[5]  Moreover, given his parentage, keeping King enslaved would have been extremely difficult because the flavor of freedom was likely deeply instilled in him at a young age.[6]  As well King was not alone in his effort to experience freedom from American enslavement, the British helped him find his way to more hospitable territory in New York in exchange for his loyalty in the approaching war.
​
        In New York, King would find and marry his first wife Violet, an emancipated woman from North Carolina who also liberated herself by absconding to New York.[7]  From New York the couple migrated further North to Nova Scotia in 1783 to settle in Birchtown, a community established by African American migrants seeking asylum from enslavement and the war.[8] In Birchtown, King worked a number of jobs to survive.  Though the grace of the colonial Canadian government provided land for the settlers, the land they were given was difficult to work: the soil was hard and not as fruitful as the lands they had come from.[9]  However, before the Kings were forced to move to survive, Boston was appointed to be a Methodist minister for a small congregation near Halifax, Nova Scotia.[10]  As a preacher part of his charge (which was also part of the purpose of having Negro preachers) was not merely saving the souls of formerly enslaved Africans but to deliver them from “evil tempers” of enslavement.  This effort was not just centered on convincing the formerly enslaved that retaliation against their masters or white people in general was un-Christian, it was also focused on relieving the trauma experienced by the enslaved through religious counseling: essentially PTSD counseling.[11] 

        King and his wife were very impactful with their work in Nova Scotia.  However, they themselves did not feel anymore safe in Canadian territories despite the development of the black settlement Birchtown and despite relocating to Halifax.  So, the King’s decided to relocate as a family for the third and final time to Freetown, Sierra Leone with the help of the British government.  As discussed in an earlier profile (Andrew Bryan), the British, like the Americans, had established a colony on the continent of Africa specifically for emancipated Africans.  Though this colony was not exactly a free-state as it was still the property of the British government, it was a place where the formerly enslaved could establish a modicum of power and influence.  It was a promising move for King and his wife, as it was far away from the absurdities of American-life, however, not long after the King’s arrived Violet fell ill and died in 1792.[12]  Two years after the passing of his wife Violet, the Sierra Leone Company sent Boston to England to study at the Methodist-Kingwood School near Bristol.  At this Methodist school Boston studied to be a missionary and a teacher.[13] 

          While in London King wrote his memoirs and published, Memoirs of the Life of Boston King: A Black Preacher, which served as a critical autobiography for the Methodist Church.[14] Throughout this memoir King recounted his trials and travels in the American South and Nova Scotia providing critical insight into not just his life but the system of enslavement in which he was born.  Further, it is important to note that the insight provided by memoirs like his and those of Phillis Wheatley and Olaudah Equiano served historians well over the centuries, but were also extremely impactful in their time and space.  At times narratives of the enslaved were used to justify slavery or held up as evidence of the need to dismantle the peculiar institution. However, King’s narrative is extremely notable because it has the distinction of being written by a Black Canadian and Sierra Leonian migrant.  That is to say, the nature of this narrative serves as one of the few that provide intimate detail of the Atlantic world during the Revolutionary period, from the perspective of a former slave and returning African migrant.
​
        After King spent two years studying in Bristol and completing his narrative, he returned to Sierra Leone in 1796 to train other missionaries.   While there, King worked very closely with the Sherbro people, a small ethnic group near the coastal area of Sierra Leone and spent his remaining days living on the West African coast with his second wife, Peggy.   He and his wife worked diligently and intimately with the people of Sierra Leone, proving invaluable to the Methodist Church in its missionizing efforts.  Both he and his wife succumb to illness in 1802 and did not survive the year.  They left behind three children, two sons and a daughter, who remained in Sierra Leone.  As mentioned, the life of King is an extremely important one that helps give shape to the Atlantic world of the Revolutionary period.  His travels took him from the slave-holding American south to the British-side of the Revolutionary War, to one of Canada’s first black towns, then to Sierra Leone with a brief stay in Britain.  What his travels demonstrate is the connectivity of the Atlantic world and its delicate eco-system, throughout which we can glimpse just how thoroughly the hemispheres of the world were connected and balanced through the migration and movements of African people.


[1] The Life of Boston King, Black Loyalist, Minister and Master Carpenter.  (Nimbus Publishing: Nova Scotia Museum, 2003).

[2] Phyllis R. Blakeley. "Boston King: A Negro Loyalist Who Sought Refuge in Nova Scotia." The Dalhousie Review (1968), 349.

[3] Ibid., 350.

[4] Boston King. Memoirs of the Life of Boston King: A Black Preacher, Written by Himself During His Residence at Kingswood School. 2001. 

[5] Phyllis R. Blakeley "Boston King: A Negro Loyalist Who Sought Refuge in Nova Scotia." The Dalhousie Review (1968), 347.

[6] After King’s initial escape, he avoided capture a number of times whilst traveling from Charleston to New York.

[7] The Book of Negroes.  African Nova Scotians: in the age of slavery and abolition.  (Nova Scotia Archive).

[8] Phyllis R. Blakeley. "Boston King: A Negro Loyalist Who Sought Refuge in Nova Scotia." The Dalhousie Review (1968), 347.

[9] Boston King. Memoirs of the Life of Boston King: A Black Preacher, Written by Himself During His Residence at Kingswood School. 2001.

[10] Vincent Carretta. Unchained Voices: An Anthology of Black Authors in the English-Speaking World of the Eighteenth Century.  (University of Kentucky Press, 2003), 394-395.

[11] Phyllis R. Blakeley. "Boston King: A Negro Loyalist Who Sought Refuge in Nova Scotia." The Dalhousie Review (1968), 351-352.  It is worth noting that such an experience in the present day would force therapist to diagnose most if not all enslaved Africans with varying degrees of post-traumatic stress disorder. 

[12] Vincent Carretta. Unchained Voices: An Anthology of Black Authors in the English-Speaking World of the Eighteenth Century.  (University of Kentucky Press, 2003), 394-395.

[13] Ibid., 395.

[14] Boston King. Memoirs of the Life of Boston King: A Black Preacher, Written by Himself During His Residence at Kingswood School. 2001.  This memoir was published in for installments.

One of the most important aspects of this series of essays is the focus on individuals and groups that have helped to make Africana Religion in the New World what it is.  That is to say, this is an effort to shed light on the hidden (or at very least, lesser known) institutions, characters, and personalities that have contributed to the development of Africana Religion.  Essentially, this is an effort to provide more girth to the historical narrative.  Fittingly, the period of revolution seemed to spark in many the spirit change and growth, which contributed to the overall zeitgeist of revolution that enveloped the Atlantic world from Canada to the Caribbean and from Sierra Leone to Sussex.  We have already dealt with a number of individuals whom were connected to George Liele during his time in Georgia before he sought refuge in Jamaica; we will now deal with Liele’s liaison on the isle of Jamaica: Moses Baker. 
              The early life of Moses Baker is somewhat of a mystery.  Given the lack of records there is not much information on his family or the circumstances and conditions of his early life, save for the fact that born free in New York City.[1]  He was educated at a young age by the British Society for the Propagation of the Gospel (SPG), the same organization that aided Andrew Bryan.[2]  As a young man he married Susannah Aston and fathered three children: Polly, Charles and John.  Though Baker and his family were not enslaved, the coming Revolutionary War would force them migrate from the New York to Jamaica with the help of the British government and the SPG.  Again, Jamaica, a long time British colony, was a prime place of embarkation for hundreds of people who were fleeing the war and/or American enslavement.  George Liele, who absconded with the retreat of the British garrison of Georgia, had established himself and began forming the foundations of the Ethiopian Baptist Church by the time Baker and his family arrived on the island.[3]
              What the establishment of the Ethiopian Baptist Church represents on the Isle of Jamaica, is essentially the beginnings of Ethiopianism.[4]  Principally, Ethiopianism is a relgio-political belief system informed in large part by a fascination with the ancient Ethiopian empire that developed out of growing knowledge of the Bible by enslaved Africans in the 17th and 18th century.[5]  Charles Price author of Cleave to the Black: Expressions of Ethiopianism in Jamaica argues, “Black people's fascination with Ethiopia grew out of the many references to it throughout the Bible, their understanding of Christianity's roots in ancient Ethiopia, and later, the recognition that Ethiopia had never been completely colonized by Europeans.”[6]  For many enslaved Africans the only spiritual nourishment provided for them by their enslavers was Christianity.  But, the lessons they received from their oppressors only reinforced their subjugated status; there was very little offered to them that would help bolster their pride or uplift their spirits.  Those who could read had to search the scripture for any passages that pushed against the condition of their oppression, the image of Ethiopia presented in the Bible provided that push.  That is to say, the imagery of Ethiopia in biblical scriptures - the power of the nation, the beauty of the people - filled many with a sense of pride that prompted a powerful movement in Jamaica.[7]
              Once Baker arrived in Jamaica he worked closely with Liele[8] to help develop and grow the Ethiopian Baptist Church.[9]  Their efforts attracted a sizable following and even attracted the attention of British officials who were concerned that the Ethiopianism being introduced by Baker and Liele did not teach the approved Christian narrative and could therefore fuel the fire of dissidence among the enslaved.[10]  This “explicit ethiopianism” as termed by Ennis Edmonds, author of Rastafari: From Outcast to Cultural Bearers, accomplished a number of things for Jamaica’s African occupants; first, it help to organize the Black Baptists of Jamaica into a syncretic politico-religious movement which blended an African-centered perspective with Biblical messianism and apocalyticism.[11]  Meaning, it placed the needs and perspectives of African people at the center of its philosophical outlook combined with the notion that people of African descent were chosen by the divine.[12]  Second, it laid the foundation for the development of Rastafarianism and Garveyism which took solid hold of Jamaica in the 20th century.  These philosophies grew out of a notion of African exceptionalism that argued that African people throughout the world are to be united under a Pan-African banner and are the true descendants God’s chosen people: the Israelites.  
              However, before the Rastafarians and Garveyites had their name and reputation established as the cornerstone of Jamaican religious identity, it and the Ethiopian Baptist Church likely received its inspiration and philosophical foundation from the Native Baptist Church.[13]  This church, according to Leonard Barrett, “grafted Christianity to the African ethos of the slaves and took on a messianic-millenarian fervor.  This spiritual combination became the energizing force behind the slaves in their demand for freedom as a command from God.”[14]  Both Baker and Liele wrote the covenant for the Native Baptist Church sometime in the late 1779s and early 1780s; many adaptations of this covenant circulated among the enslaved in Jamaica throughout the 19th century.[15]  Moreover, the Native Baptists through their philosophy became very popular among African Jamaicans; however, the British colonists, still quite fearful of revolt on the island, felt that the Native Baptists were merely a coven for those plotting insurrection.[16]  Regardless Baker’s involvement was very significant in accompanying Liele in the development of the Baptist tradition for Africans of Jamaica.  Again, despite the institution of enslavement, Africans in the Western hemisphere development lasting institutions of their own, in order to educate, protect and nurture others of their lot.  The efforts of Baker and Liele cemented a lasting legacy in Jamaican religious history both of the brick-and-mortar variety (Native Baptist Church and the Ethiopian Baptist Church) as well as the more au natural type (Rastafarianism).  What is critical for both types of institutions is a philosophy centered on an African cultural identity.    


[1] Junius Rodriguez.  The Historical Encyclopedia of World Slavery, Vol. 1.  (ABC-CLIO, 1997) 64.

[2] Ibid., 64.  Sandy Dwayne Martin. "Andrew Bryan (1737-1812)".  (Georgia Humanities Council and the University of Georgia Press).

[3] Anthony Pinn, ed.  African American Religious Cultures, vol. 1.  (Oxford: ABC-CLIO, 2009), 324.  Walter H. Brooks. "The Evolution of the Negro Baptist Church." The Journal of Negro History 7, no. 1 (1922), 15-17.

[4] Charles Reavis Price.  "’Cleave to the Black’: Expression of Ethiopianism in Jamaica.” New West-Indian Guide, 77, no. 1-2, (2003), 34-36.  Arthur C. Dayfoot, The Shaping of the West Indian Church 1492-1962 (Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 1999), 100, 107-8.  Dale Bisnauth, History of religions in the Caribbean (Kingston, Jamaica: Kingston Publishers, 1996, 3rd reprint), 61.  Keith Hunter, 'Protestantism and Slavery in the British Caribbean', Armando Lampe (ed.), Christianity in the Caribbean (Barbados: University of the West Indies Press, 2001), 97.

[5] Leonard E. Barrett.  The Rastafarians.  (Boston: Beacon Press, 1997), 76.

[6] Ibid., 36.

[7] This movement eventual inspired the development critical cultural movements on the island.

[8] G. A. Catherall. "The Native Baptist Church." Baptist Quarterly 24, no. 2 (1971): 67.

[9] Ennis Barrington Edmonds.  Rastafari: From Outcast to Cultural Bearers.  (London: Oxford University Press, 2002), 29

[10] Ibid., 30.

[11] Ibid., 30-31.

[12] Leonard E. Barrett.  The Rastafarians.  (Boston: Beacon Press, 1997), 68.  The author argues: “The emergence of the Rastafarians will remain a puzzle unless seen as a continuation of the concept of Ethiopianism which began in Jamaica as early as the eighteenth century.”

[13] Ibid., 40.

[14] Ibid., 40.

[15] G. A. Catherall. "The Native Baptist Church." Baptist Quarterly 24, no. 2 (1971): 67.

[16] Doreen Morrison. "George Liele and the Ethiopian Baptist Church: The First Credible Baptist Missionary Witness to the World.”  (Birmingham, England © Doreen Morrison).  Accessed via: bwa-baptist-heritage.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/Liele-Morrison.pdf. 

              For African Americans in the South during the period of independence, the problem of national loyalty is one that forced many to closely examine where they stood on the spectrum of revolution.  Most of the enslaved were not afforded the opportunity to choose between American Revolutionaries or British Loyalists, their lot was decided well before they were born into this world.  Still, many Africans knew and understood their position as chattel and by extension understood the difference between being under the yoke of the Crown versus being a ward of the emerging American colonies.  By extension, when given the choice, many African Americans, particularly those with any semblance of power and/or position, would choose the British Crown because it seemed to presented the enslaved with opportunities that would not exist for those enslaved by the American colonists.  Appropriately, the life of David George is one that was defined by this push and pull of loyalties: the Crown, the Colonists or the Creator, which resulted in the development of an African American Baptist tradition that would return to the shores of Africa.
​
              David George was born into enslavement in 1743 in Essex County, Virginia.[1]  At a young age George escaped the planation of his birth, and remained on the run within the Commonwealth until he migrated to the territory of South Carolina.   In the Carolina territory he was captured by a Creek chief named Blue Salt who kept him as a prized commodity and worker.  George eventually absconded from the Creek chief only to be recaptured by a Scottish trader named George Gauflin.  The trader had a strong relationship with the Creek and was allowed to keep David George.  As well, Gauflin had a number of enslaved Africans who had intermarried with the Creek, or were products of African-Creek intermarriage.  One such woman, Phyllis, caught the eye of David George and eventually the two married in the late 1700s and started to develop their family.

              Throughout the Atlantic coastal region of the South (Virginia, North/South Carolina and Georgia) the Baptist tradition was well established.  George, by all accounts, founded the first African American congregation in the United States in Silver Bluff, South Carolina.[2]  The Silver Buff Baptist Church of South Carolina was developed through the efforts of David George and a white minister known simply as, Palmer.[3]  Albert Raboteau author of Slave Religion: The ‘Invisible Institution’ in the Antebellum South states: “This church owed its beginning to the preaching of a white Baptist minister named Palmer who preached to the slaved of one George Gauflin at Silver Buff.”[4]  Palmer was very invested in the religious education of the enslaved and converted eight African Americans to form the foundation of the Silver Buff church.  In addition, he appointed George to the position of elder within the congregation.  Further, the founding of this church was very impactful for African Americans in the South.  Many of the enslaved became well acquainted with stories of the George’s church through traveling revivals and prayer meetings; it is therefore highly likely that David George was very influential to George Liele and Andrew Bryan.  Their respective paths may have even crossed at one point. 

              As George matured in the Gospel, the conflict between the Brits and the Colonialists also grew.  Representatives of the Crown aided in the emigration of many Africans who loyalties remained true (readers will recall that George Liele migrated to Jamaica during the heat of the conflict, where he was able to develop his own Church).  For David George, as Liele went South, he was escorted North to the Canadian province Nova Scotia, along with 3500 other people of African descent seeking asylum from the war and the institution of slavery.[5]  In Canada, George continued his work as a religious leader and developed a Baptist congregation for the wartime migrants in Shelburne.  However, this establishment would not last long; despite the fact that the former American migrants had absconded from American enslavement, they were met by racist mobs in Canada of white Americans whom had also fled.  In what is historically known as the Shelburne Riots, mobs of displaced white Americans brought their racist ideals and methods with them to the Canadian territories, resulting in a number of conflicts.[6]

              Nevertheless, despite the fact that American customs and ideals had followed George and his family to Nova Scotia, they were still able to settle in an African American community called Birchtown for a number of years.[7]  At this time as well the British were establishing colonies/townships for free Blacks in several locales on the continent of Africa.[8]  One such township called Freetown was established in Sierra Leone.[9]  This town was primarily established for emancipated Africans who were educated in the British system and had been converted to Christianity.  As well, these free-returning-migrant Africans were to be used in the continued colonization efforts of the British in Africa.  George and his family settled in Sierra Leone sometime in the late-1770s/early-1780s, where they would begin setting up missions under the British flag.

              Further, in Sierra Leone, George and his family (progeny included) became a very critical part of the colony.[10]  The first Baptist church in Sierra Leone was founded through the efforts of George, as well his family is responsible for organizing returning African migrants, much like the Americo-Liberians, into a recognized ethnic minority that comprises about five percent of the country’s current population.[11]  The colonization of African lands by returning African Americans created a cultural divide amongst the people that has resulted in serious conflict over the centuries, this is especially true in Liberia’s case.[12]  However, despite issues of identity and ownership George’s descendants have been very active in Sierra Leone and have worked with organizations and the country’s government to address the cultural divide within the country and reach-out to Africans throughout the diaspora in order to foster a sense of unity.

       George’s original congregation, the Silver Bluff Baptist Church hobbled its way through the 19th century,[13] supported by the enslaved Africans that remained after George absconded to Canada and the Gauflin family who continued their backing of the institution.[14]  To elaborate, the church body was moved to Augusta, Georgia shortly after the Revolutionary War.  In Augusta, the church changed their name to the Springfield Baptist Church in 1801.  In the early part of the 20th century, historian Walter Brooks connected the histories of the Silver Bluff and Springfield Baptist church and proclaimed it as the oldest African American congregation in the US.[15]   Though there are a couple other churches that claim this distinction, the history of the David George and the Silver Bluff Baptist Church has a solid right to the history. 


[1] James W. Walker. The Black Loyalists: The Search for a Promised Land in Nova Scotia and Sierra Leone, 1783-1870. (University of Toronto Press, 1992), 4-6.

[2] Simon Schama, Rough Crossings. (Toronto: Penguin Group, 2005).  This point still seems to be highly disputed as record keeping was not as meticulous as it is in the present day.

[3] Albert Raboteau.  Slave Religion: The “Invisible Institution” in the Antebellum South.  (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 139-140.

[4] Ibid., 139.

[5] James W. Walker. The Black Loyalists: The Search for a Promised Land in Nova Scotia and Sierra Leone, 1783-1870. (University of Toronto Press, 1992), 12.

[6] Howard Zinn.  A People’s History of the United States.  (New York: HarperCollins, 1999), 88-89.

[7] Barry Cahill. "Stephen Blu in Loyalist Nova Scotia". (Nova Scotia Historical Review), 129. 

[8] Sherri Borden Colley.  “After 200 years without land title, Nova Scotia black community offered hope: Black Loyalists, Black Refugees were given land, but no title, in 1775 and 1812.”  www.cbc.ca.  Accessed Sept 28, 2017.  This article address the problem of ownership of Canadian lands two centuries after David George and other refugees absconded to Canada.

[9] The United States had established a similar colony in the African territory currently known as Liberia which is the neighboring country. 

[10] James W. Walker. The Black Loyalists: The Search for a Promised Land in Nova Scotia and Sierra Leone, 1783-1870. (University of Toronto Press, 1992), 145. This ethnic group is referred to as the Krio, which is an adaptation of the word Creole.  This ethnic group is comparable to the colonial descendants from Liberia; Liberia represents an America colony which like the British endeavored to return stolen Africans to the African continent to form colonies.

[11] James Oliver Horton and Lois E. Horton. In Hope of Liberty: Culture, Community and Protest among Northern Free Blacks, 1700-1860.  (London: Oxford University Press), 186.

[12] War torn Liberia has been in constant conflict since the period of African American emigration.

[13] Albert Raboteau.  Slave Religion: The “Invisible Institution” in the Antebellum South.  (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 139.

[14] The Gauflin family being reference are the descendants of the Africans enslaved by the Gauflins.

[15] Walter H. Brooks, "The Priority of the Silver Bluff Church and Its Promoters," Journal of Negro History (April 1922).

The development of First African Baptist Church began through the efforts of George Liele in Savannah, Georgia.  What was once a British military strong hold became the setting for the foundation of the African American Baptist community in the Antebellum South.  As discussed, Liele left for Jamaica with the withdrawal of the British Army, which begs the question: what happened to those left behind?  Who would tend to the spiritual well-being of the African American Baptist converts who were not fortunate enough to abscond from the American South?  The answer came from a familiar face of Georgian religious life in the form of Andrew Bryan.

Andrew Bryan was born into enslavement in Goose Creek, South Carolina on the Brampton Plantation.[1]  Like Liele and many other enslaved Africans of the Southern colonies, Bryan’s enslaver was English and beholding to the British Crown.  As a result, at a young age Bryan became involved with the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts (SPG), a British organization devoted to missionary work of the Anglican Church.[2]  It is not clear if Bryan was ever a devoted member of the Anglican church, however it is clear that through the SPG he began the work that eventually led him to becoming a religious leader for African Americans in the deep South.  Through his involvement with the SPG, Bryan traveled throughout the South preaching to the enslaved and gaining a reputation as a promising orator and counselor.  His path would eventually cross with Liele’s as he grew in the Gospel.  In the late 1700s, a relationship formed between the two and they began working in tandem as preachers, however this did not last long before Liele fled to Jamaica.[3] 

After Liele and the British Army’s departure, Bryan continued preaching but he and his flock were forced to find their own spiritual path.  Much of the preaching that was done by Bryan was monitored by overseers outside of church walls, perhaps in a clearing or off to the side of a church building.[4]  That is to say, the conditions of Bryan’s work as a spiritual leader was like that of any other captive African in the antebellum South: very little comforts, save for the grace of the Word and even that was heavily supervised and at times tailored to project a particular message that had been previously approved.  Religious meetings among Africans without the presence of overseers were known to be war-rooms of rebellions to come; therefore the work of Bryan was always monitored.  Because of this, Bryan and his flock were often harassed, arrested and beaten, and at times the violence from Whites led to torture or death.  In one particular instance, Andrew Bryan and another man named Sampson were arrested on the charge of conspiracy for preaching the Word.  However, Andrew Bryan had been given permission to preach by his handler Johnathan Bryan.[5] Appropriately, Johnathan went to court on the behalf of both Andrew and Sampson, and they were later released.[6] 

After this incident, Andrew continued his work with the church and again started drawing large flocks on Sunday mornings.[7]  The reason why Bryan was so successful in his efforts was because of the support of white religious leaders and land owners; through their backing and Bryan’s efforts as a preacher, the First Bryan Baptist Church was founded.  To elaborate, early in 1788, Andrew’s flock had grown to the point that the congregation needed a building to accommodate the need.  However, an enslaved person owning anything in the antebellum South but the breathe they breathed was extremely difficult, but not impossible.  In the same year, Johnathan Bryan’s health was failing and he eventually succumbed to death.  Naturally, all of Johnathan’s property went to his next of kin William Bryan (son), but Andrew was bequeathed enough money to buy his freedom from William with ample left over to procure the land and materials that he would need to build a church of his own.[8]  Further, he was given the blessing of other Baptist preachers he had worked with to build his congregation; one letter states: “This is to certify, that the Ethiopian church of Jesus Christ at Savannah, have called their beloved Andrew to the work of the ministry.  We have examined into his qualifications, and believing it to be the will of the great head of the church, we have appointed him to preach the Gospel, and to administer the ordinances, as God in his providence may call.”[9]

1793 is perhaps this most appropriate founding year of the First Bryan Baptist Church.  Though the ground work for the Church was laid more than a decade earlier with Bryan’s efforts, 1793 marked the year that the land was purchased and construction began.[10]  By the early 19th century, between 1802 and 1805, construction was complete and the First Bryan Baptist Church began to solidify alliances with other congregations of Savannah, namely: the First African Baptist Church, the Savannah Baptist Church and Newington Baptist Church.  The collective was called the Savannah River Baptist Association.[11]  Moreover, apart from the collective, Bryan’s work as a Baptist preacher was so popular among the enslaved in Savannah that he eventually was forced to build a second and third African Baptist church to accommodate the growth.[12]

The Bryan African Baptist Church has a unique position in African American religious history given the circumstances of its founding.  The Antebellum South can be counted as one of the worse places to be for people of African descent, historically speaking, yet many African Americans were able to carve out a sense of spiritual being and belonging despite this.  Bryan was not able to abscond with the British as Liele was; therefore, he and his flock were always extremely exposed in slave-holding-Georgia.  This could not have been an easy task.  Nevertheless, Andrew Bryan not only built a church in the heart of Dixie, he also developed a network of religious institutions devoted to the spiritual uplift of Africans in the antebellum South.  This legacy has remained solid for over two centuries and is currently a part of the Historical Register of Historical Places.[13]


[1] John W. Davis.  “George Liele and Andrew Bryan, Pioneer Negro Baptist Preachers.” The Journal of Negro History, 3 (2), 123-124.

[2] Sandy Dwayne Martin. "Andrew Bryan (1737-1812)".  (Georgia Humanities Council and the University of Georgia Press).

[3] Walter H. Brooks. "The Evolution of the Negro Baptist Church." The Journal of Negro History 7, no. 1 (1922): 15-17.

[4] John W. Davis.  “George Liele and Andrew Bryan, Pioneer Negro Baptist Preachers.” The Journal of Negro History, 3 (2), 124.  Bryan began preaching full time within a year of Liele Departure to Jamaica.

[5] Alan Gallay. The Formation of a Planter Elite: Jonathan Bryan and the Southern Colonial Frontier. (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2007), 52.

[6] Simms, James Meriles. The First Colored Baptist Church in North America: Constituted at Savannah, Georgia, January 20, AD 1788. With Biographical Sketches of the Pastors. JB Lippincott Company, 1888, 20-22.

[7] John W. Davis.  “George Liele and Andrew Bryan, Pioneer Negro Baptist Preachers.” The Journal of Negro History, 3 (2), 124.  “When Goerge Liele was preaching in and near Savannah, he did not suffer from such molestation, because the British then ruled the country, but Andrew Bryan began his work under different conditions about the time when Georgia became independent.”

[8] Alan Gallay. The Formation of a Planter Elite: Jonathan Bryan and the Southern Colonial Frontier. (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2007), 53-54.  David S. Williams. From Mounds to Megachurches: Georgia’s Religious Heritage.  (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2008), 36.  The property was purchased by William himself for Andrew and his family to live on and to build the church. 

[9] John W. Davis.  “George Liele and Andrew Bryan, Pioneer Negro Baptist Preachers.” The Journal of Negro History, 3 (2), 126.  Letter written by Abraham Marshall, Baptist pastor and a colleague of the Bryans.

[10] Ibid., 125.

[11] James Meriles Simms. The First Colored Baptist Church in North America: Constituted at Savannah, Georgia, January 20, AD 1788. With Biographical Sketches of the Pastors. (JB Lippincott Company, 1888), 55-56.

[12] John W. Davis.  “George Liele and Andrew Bryan, Pioneer Negro Baptist Preachers.” The Journal of Negro History, 3 (2), 127.

[13] Ibid., 127.  There were some set-backs over the years.  For example, the growth of Bryan’s church slowed during the 1830s because of fear caused by Nat Turners rebellion.

The American South has always been an arduous setting to nurture any semblance of freedom for its African population. The efforts of Varick and Allen, while extremely difficult in their own right, had the distinct advantage of being wrought above the Mason-Dixon Line.   Below that illusory border the difficulties of being African in America increased exponentially.  Yet, African Americans cradled in Dixie’s bosom still managed to develop religious movements that would reverberate throughout history.  For example, George Liele became a Baptist preacher in the American South a century before the Emancipation Proclamation was signed.  He also became one of the first American missionaries of the Baptist Church at a time when escape from the tumultuous South for people of African descent was but a dream with nightmarish consequences.  Appropriately, this essay will examine the efforts of Liele in the development of the First African Baptist Church.[1]
​
George Liele (also known as George Sharp) was born in to slavery in Virginia around 1752 to Liele and Nancy Sharp.[2]  Sometime during his childhood/adolescence he was moved to Georgia where he was baptized and became heavily involved in the Baptist Church.  The Baptist congregation that Liele joined was a satellite of the Baptist Church of England which was in somewhat of a precarious position as an extension of the Crown during the period of American independence.[3]  However, Liele, like his enslaver Henry Sharp, was a loyalist during the American Revolutionary period and had no interest in defecting to the Yankees because he understood social position of Africans in the American South (with the British there was at least the opportunity for social advancement).  Moreover, as a Baptist under the Crown he made it clear that his focus was on the spiritual welfare of African people, stating: “[I desire] to prove the sense I had of my own obligation to God, I endeavored to instruct the people of my own color in the word of God: the white bretheren seeing my endeavors and that the word of the Lord seemed to be blessed gave me a call at a quarterly meeting to preach before a congregation.”[4]

Liele’s handler Sharp fought in the Revolutionary War and fell, possibly at the Battle Brier Creek.  After Sharp’s death, Liele was emancipated and remained loyal to the Crown by continuing to organize a Baptist congregation in Savannah, Georgia under the British flag.[5]   Savannah was a stronghold for Britain as well as a location of reprieve for those who absconded to freedom because the Crown offered emancipation for enslaved Africans who fought on their side.[6]  Liele used this to the advantage of the British Baptist Church in that he would convert manumitted Africans.  Moreover, in Savannah Liele was allowed to organize both the First Bryan Baptist Church (with Andrew Bryan) and the First African Baptist Church.[7] 

Liele’s fidelity to the Crown would eventually force him and other loyalists to vacate the Georgia territory as the war began to favor the Yanks.  Liele was one of many who fled to Jamaica during the heart of the Revolutionary conflict because the Island remained a British strong hold.  He arrived on the island sometime in 1783 and continued his dutiful work with enslaved Africans in Jamaica.  However, the maturation of the Baptist church of Jamaica did not have an easy go of it due to the presence of the Anglican Church, the principal Christian denomination of the Island.   To be clear, the Baptist presence in Jamaica was problematic for the Anglicans not simply because they were unwilling to share spiritual space with a different tradition, instead, socially and politically the Baptist church represented a shift for the colony, especially for its bondsmen and women.  Essentially, the Baptist church wanted to do away with the umbrella governance of the Anglican Church, so that individual congregations could exercise more autonomy.  As well, the Baptist Church of England advocated for the education of the enslaved, to which the leaders of the Anglican Church were vehemently opposed.  Nevertheless, Liele won the support from London, with the help of Moses Baker (a convert of Liele who would prove to very impactful in the spiritual lives of the enslaved in Jamaica),[8] by writing the first covenant of the Ethiopian Baptist of Jamaica: a document which ensured the development of Baptist education among the enslaved Africans of the Island as well as their loyalty to their masters as law-abiding subjects under the Crown.[9]

The founding of the Black Baptist movement in America is truly remarkable when compared to the AME/AMEZ movement in that they represent almost polar opposites of each other.  To explain, the AME/AMEZ movements were founded in the North and driven by the American revolutionary spirit for freedom and independence; whereas the First African Baptist Church was founded in the antebellum South and was loyal to the British Crown.  In both contexts, the principal focus for the organizations was autonomy and freedom.  In the North, Freedom was something that had shape and substance for African Americans, even if complete equality impossible.  However, for some bondsmen and women in the South during the revolutionary period, the only path to freedom, save for a treacherous trip to the North, was through loyalty to Britain.  It seems that Liele was keenly aware of this paradox and rightly took the path of least resistance.   Further, this path led to the conversion of thousands of Jamaicans to the Baptist Church of England under the guidance of Liele, who remained active until his death in 1828.[10]   

There is no indication that Liele ever returned to Georgia, yet his legacy remains strong with the First African Baptist Church.  To elaborate, since the late 1700s the Church has gone through a number of variations and iterations, yet it has sustained itself through the 21st century as both a physical edifice and communal church body.  Some of original sanctuary and its memorabilia (pews, quilts and artwork) still exist.  As well, much of the original documents of the congregation has been archived at the Church’s museum and can be dated back to the initial founding by George Liele himself.  The remarkable record keeping of this particular institution provides scholars and historians with an extremely important lens into the religious/spiritual life of Africans in the antebellum South.[11]  This reveals one of the most important aspects of church life for African Americans: it is not necessarily the theology or even the effort to “save” one’s soul, on the contrary, it is the maintenance of historical knowledge that becomes the record of one’s existence, a display of their trials and triumphs as well as proof of their thought and philosophy which invariably cements their humanity.


[1] Carter G. Woodson.  History of the Negro Church.  (Associated Publishers, 1921).
[2] Liele, George, Stephen Cooke, Abraham Marshall, Jonathan Clarke, and Thomas Nichols Swigle. "Letters Showing the Rise and Progress of the Early Negro Churches of Georgia and the West Indies." The Journal of Negro History 1, no. 1 (1916): 69.
[3] Walter H. Brooks. "The Evolution of the Negro Baptist Church." The Journal of Negro History 7, no. 1 (1922): 15-16.
[4] Ibid., 70-71.
[5] Ibid., 14-15.
[6] This legislation was called the Dunmore Proclamation.  Alan Gilbert. Black Patriots and Loyalists: Fighting for Emancipation in the War for Independence (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012).  Jim Piecuch. Three Peoples, One King: Loyalists, Indians, and Slaves in the Revolutionary South, 1775-1782 (University of South Carolina Press, 2008).
[7] Walter H. Brooks. "The Evolution of the Negro Baptist Church." The Journal of Negro History 7, no. 1 (1922): 16-17.
[8] Gerloff, Roswith. "The African diaspora in the Caribbean and Europe from pre-emancipation to the present day." The Cambridge History of Christianity 9 (2006): 6.
[9] Davis, John W. (1918). “George Liele and Andrew Bryan, Pioneer Negro Baptist Preachers.”  Journal of Negro History. 3 (2): 119–127.
[10] Boston University School of Theology.  George Liele: http://www.bu.edu/missiology/missionary-biography/l-m/liele-george-c-1750-1828/.  Accessed July 2017.
[11] First African Baptist Church.  “History”: http://firstafricanbc.com/history.asp. Accessed July, 2017.      

Around the same time Allen, Jones and the other early members of the African Methodist Episcopal Church were establishing the foundations of their throng; James Varick was making similar moves in New York to establish the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church (AMEZ).  The AMEZ also began under very similar circumstances in New York: as a safe place for people of African descent to worship, without the burden of racial discrimination and/or European American religious paternalism.  New Yorkers were not immune to racist notions and assumptions as modern historical narratives might suggest, Africans in the Northern colonies struggled constantly against ignorance and hatred.  As such, Varick and the AMEZ faithful developed out of the struggle against the merciless enslavement and racist oppression of African people.[1]  Again, the period of independence for early America underscores the efforts of Varick and his keen understanding and awareness of exactly what freedom means for those whose freedom was marginalized. 

Varick’s story begins in 1750 near Newburgh, New York.  His mother may have been enslaved by the Varicks but his father was born free in New Jersey.  James received his early education in New York City while working to support himself and his family.  He became heavily involved in the Methodist Church sometime in the mid-1760s and quickly became a community leader for Black members of the John Street Methodist Church.[2]   Varick was an integral element of the John Street church despite the fact that he could not be ordained as a minister because of his race, he led meetings and worked diligently to establish a space for Black people to worship freely.[3]  To this end, in 1800 he organized what would become the first AMEZ Church however he would not be ordained as a minister for a number of years.[4]  As such the Zion Church was initially led by white ministers despite having all Black congregations.  In spite of allowing Black people to organize and develop their own space for worship White paternalism ruled the early foundation of the AMEZ.

Use of the term Zion for the AMEZ church is focused around the need for a Zion-esque safe-space for worship. Meaning, visionaries like Varick understood the necessity of spaces for black people to worship apart from the European religious gaze.[5]  Religious self-segregation is very necessary with in a community or colony that is centered on the exploitation of the downtrodden.  It is a means of survival for the oppressed and not to be confused with the self-segregating efforts of white supremacists and xenophobes.  The notion of Zion within the structure of the AMEZ church suggests it was a place beyond the gaze of white religious normality and the reach of dehumanizing racism.  Moreover, Zion’s freedom was not just focused on cultural independence but religious and historical identity as well.  Meaning, the Zion faithful had no interest in being engulfed by Allen and the AME; the AMEZ had to have its own identity.[6]  To this end, in 1820 the decision was made to strongly pursue the ordination of Black ministers in order to solidify the purpose and direction of the AMEZ movement, and on September 30th the congregation elected Varick and Abraham Thompson as the first elders of the organization which allowed them hold communion services, instead of only prayer meetings, a critical rite for Methodists.  Further, the foundation of the movement was concretely solidified in June of the following year with two major developments: the inaugural convention of the AMEZ and the official ordination of Abraham Thompson, Leven Smith and James Varick.

AMEZ worship and religious structure is very similar to that of the AME.  In fact, the only qualities separating the denominations are their respective locations of founding and the term Zion.  Where they differ most is in their particular histories.   For example, with the founding of the AMEZ there was not the same drama as with the walk-out staged by Allen.  Carter G. Woodson remarks, “[Varick and his faithful] had not been disturbed in their worship to the extent experienced by Richard Allen and his coworkers in Philadelphia, but they had a ‘desire for the privilege of holding meetings of their own, where they might have an opportunity to exercise their spiritual gifts among themselves, and thereby be more useful to one another.’"[7]  The need for autonomy was no less pressing for Varick, however Allen and his group definitely had to endure a more Southern reaction to their presence in the early stages of AME’s development.  Regardless, Varick’s effort laid the path for religious choice for African American New Yorkers as well as a separate identity for the AMEZ faithful apart from the AME.

Furthermore, in discussing the early development of the Black church, particularly in the North, there are issues of self-segregation that color the conversation.  That is to ask, is there an issue with timing that that Varick and Allen (and African Americans generally speaking) should have considered when immersed in development?  Self-segregation is an extremely important issue for oppressed peoples.[8]  At times the conversation gets warped into the need to comfort the oppressor, to not move too fast or ask for too much.  To be clear, it is not the responsibility of African people (or any oppressed persons) to consider the feelings of white people when calling-out the problem of racism, brutality and subjugation.  Moreover, regarding the problem of white comfort with the when and how of Black people’s efforts for freedom, it must be noted that historically white Christians are known to vacillate with African American concerns regarding freedom and racism within its own walls.[9]  Varick faced many challenges in developing the AMEZ, not the least of which came from well-meaning whites who supported his ideas but believed he needed to step lightly for the comfort of white church leaders.    

Appropriately, Varick’s only concern was the spiritual well-being of his community not the emotional comfort of white Americans. The fundamental value of a church, mosque or any other religious body in any given community is the maintenance of the spiritual well-being of that community.  Therefore, the organizations, movements, temples and congregations of that community are obligated to address those needs.  Otherwise, they are exploitive.   Varick’s effort with the AMEZ reflects the need for safe spiritual spaces within a hostile environment.  Additionally, together the AME and the AMEZ churches are direct products of their time and critical examples of the spirit of independence in America at the turn of the 19th century.  As religious organizations they represent both the freedom to worship and the necessity of independent autonomous worship.  Moreover, the efforts of Allen and Varick are critical examples of African people choosing the what, why and how of free worship: what form of worship or denomination would best suit the needs of the community; why they worship; and how or in what manner does worship take place?  To have these choices suggests a level of autonomy that most African American would not be able to experience or enjoy well into the 20th century.  Yet, Varick, Allen and their respective ilk developed entire religious bodies based on these choices over a half-century b


[1] African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church.  Website: http://www.amez.org/our-church.  Accessed June 2017.

[2] Carter G. Woodson.  History of the Negro Church.  (Associated Publishers, 1921), 78.

[3] Ibid., 78.

[4] Ibid., 79.

[5] Kunnie, J. E. "Black Churches in the United States and South Africa: Similarities and Differences." Afro-Christianity at the Grassroots: Its Dynamic and Strategies (1994), 81.

[6] Carter G. Woodson.  History of the Negro Church.  (Associated Publishers, 1921), 82.

[7] Ibid., 78.

[8] Albert Raboteau.  Slave Religion: The “Invisible Institution” in the Antebellum South. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004).  Regardless of whether the issues of autonomy was with the development of churches in the North or creating space for a hush harbor on Southern plantations, European Americans constantly demonstrated their lack of comfort with African spiritual independence. 

[9] Martin Luther King, Jr.  Why We Can’t Wait.  (New York: Penguin Publishing, 2000).  The essence of King’s text is centered on white Christian complicity in racist oppression through deliberate inaction.

Africana religious history is rich and dense with a long tradition of philosophical innovation and dynamic thought.  Since the first disembarkation of Africans in the Western Hemisphere there has been a concerted effort on the part of the enslaved and free to maintain a sense of humanity, understand the precarious nature of European oppression in light of the presence of the divine, and work towards a sense of physical and spiritual freedom.  As such, there are scores of movements and individuals who have taken upon themselves to be the caretakers of the souls of Black folk.  Accordingly, the following series of essays will center on the lives of Africana America’s most impactful religious and spiritual leaders, beginning with the one of the founders of the African Methodist Episcopal Church: Richard Allen.

​The story of Richard Allen and the founding of the AME Church began in the late 1700s, however Allen’s personal history begins much earlier in the 18th century.  Allen was born on Valentine’s Day 1760 in Philadelphia.  He was born the property of Philadelphia lawyer, Benjamin Chew.[1]  His family and he were sold to a Delaware landowner named Stokley Sturgis in the late 1770s.  Though Methodism was prominent throughout Maryland, Eastern Pennsylvania and Delaware Sturgis was not a convert.  Nevertheless, Sturgis allowed Allen and his brother to attend church and was eventually allowed them to hold Methodists services and prayer meeting on his property.  The Methodist church attracted many African Americans into their fold throughout the latter part of the 1700s because of noted anti-slavery beliefs.[2]  Methodists believed that the soul as well as the body needed to be free to fully appreciate and fulfill the will of God.  Donald G. Mathews in the book Slavery and Methodism: A Chapter in American Morality, 1780-1845 argues that “when American Methodists preachers first formally denounced Negro servitude, it was well established by law and by custom in a majority of the rebellious English colonies.”[3]  This caused some difficulties for the Methodist church in the late 18th century, however most were uncompromising in this stance, which led to the Methodist Church’s involvement in the anti-slavery movement throughout the 19th century. 

Personally, Allen was attracted to Methodism due to the denomination’s attention to spiritual discipline, personal freedom and devotion.[4]  That is to say, Allen believed Methodism, which “provided a detailed prescription of how one should live, supplies communities to observe and encourage one’s moral progress and reinforced one’s commitment to a virtuous life by emotional praying, preaching and revival meetings”, was best suited for Black people in their pursuit for personal, spiritual and collective freedom.[5]  Moreover, the foundation of the AME church was birthed by Allen for three reasons: first, he felt Black people needed a religious community for mutual support and the personal direction of parishioners.[6]  Second, he felt Methodism was ideal for the largely uneducated, poor and transient Black population of the mid-Atlantic region.  And lastly, because Methodists were largely anti-slavery Allen felt the Methodist church provided the best opportunity to create a religious community for people of African descent. 

Allen was eventually freed from his bond to Sturgis, in part because of a newly acquired sense of Methodist piety on the part of his owner.  As such, Allen moved to Philadelphia and soon began preach at St. George’s Methodist Church in Philadelphia.  He attracted many African Americans to St. George’s services but he was relegated to preaching the early morning service and/or preaching outside or in the common area, away from the white faithful.  Further, as a method of out-reach Allen and fellow parishioner Absolom Jones organized the Free African Society.  This Society, as a mutual aid/out-reach organization, supported the widowed, infirmed, and orphaned[7] and served as pillar of the Philadelphia’s Black community by its members living “orderly and sober lives, distinguished by temperance propriety and martial fidelity.”[8]  At St. George’s, White church leaders continuously put their racist notions and postures above the Methodist requisite for equal representation before God.  Until 1792 when Allen and other members of the Society, perhaps struck by the fervor of self-determination of the Revolutionary Era, decided independence was the only path moving forward.[9]  Allen, Jones and other forward thinking Black members of St. George’s Church staged a walk-out that became the catalyst for the entire AME movement.[10] 

The Free African Society and the early stages of the AME church are connected in such a way that it is difficult to talk about one without the other; essentially, the AME church is an out-growth of the Society.  Allen was not always a member in part because of this Methodist fervor.  He seemed quite locked-in to the notion that the Society needed to have a religious foundation when others thought it best to remain neutral to attract members who perhaps were not Methodist.[11]  Nevertheless the Society was integral in providing the space and direction that would lead to the founding of the AME church.[12]  The AME church structure and approach towards worship offers a highly diverse but directed approach that is encapsulated in its name.  First, African is focused on the origins of the religious movement.  Meaning, because the church was founded and organized by people of African descent, its primary focus is on the African diasporic community.  This is not to suggest there are tenants of separatism within the movement, there is no evidence to support that notion.  Instead, the movement makes it clear that its founding was forced by church elders who refused to address the pressing needs of its Black members; therefore, the church remains centered on the needs of African people, while making it clear that all are welcome within in its walls.[13] 

Second, the AME church retains its Methodist worship style.  American Methodists were known for their dramatic and emotion worship styles which attracted people of African descent at the time of its founding.  This style of worship carried over to the AME church.  Allen and members of the Free African Society also wanted to retain Methodist doctrines and order of worship.  Meaning, the church focuses on preaching the gospel, in part, through community outreach and diverse forms of philanthropy.  From its founding the movement centered itself on out-reach, particular for the all-too-often marginalized African community in the US.  Lastly, the church functions under an Episcopal form of church governance which includes a Council of Bishops as its executive branch.    This Council meets annually to address the business of its twenty districts which span the globe.

Apart from the Hush Harbors and the institution of Voodoo in New Orleans, the AME Church represents the oldest Africana Church in the United States.  Further, the AME church set a tone for how Christianity would be practiced in Black people in the US, by serving as an example of spiritual autonomy within European American dominated Christianity.  The AME Church was not hidden or relegated to midnight meetings, nor was it to be dismissed as a primitive throw-back aboriginal cult of mysticism.  Instead, Allen and his cohort created institution within the dominant culture despite constant racist push-back.  As such the AME church stands critical institution that challenged American religious zeitgeist of the 18th and 19th centuries and laid the foundation for spiritual growth.



[1] Albert Raboteau.  “Richard Allen and the African Church Movement”, Black Leaders of the Nineteenth Century, edited by Leon Litwack and August Meier.  (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1991), 2. 

[2] Ibid., 3.

[3] Donald G. Mathews. Slavery and Methodism: A Chapter in American Morality, 1780-1845. (Princeton University Press, 2015), 3.

[4] Albert Raboteau.  “Richard Allen and the African Church Movement”, Black Leaders of the Nineteenth Century, edited by Leon Litwack and August Meier.  (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1991), 8.

[5] Ibid., 8.

[6] Ibid., 2.

[7] Ibid., 5.

[8] Ibid., 5.

[9] There is debate as to whether the walk out was in 1792 or 1793.

[10] Albert Raboteau.  “Richard Allen and the African Church Movement”, Black Leaders of the Nineteenth Century, edited by Leon Litwack and August Meier.  (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1991), 4.

[11] William Douglass. "Annals of the First African Church in the United States of America, now styled The African Episcopal Church of St. Thomas." (1862): 34.

[12] Albert Raboteau.  “Richard Allen and the African Church Movement”, Black Leaders of the Nineteenth Century, edited by Leon Litwack and August Meier.  (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1991), 5.

[13] Carolyn S. Beck (1988). "Our Own Vine and Fig Tree: The Authority of History and Kinship in Mother Bethel". Review of Religious Research. 29 (4): 369–84.

African spiritual diversity in the Western Hemisphere has blossomed since the children of the continent were forcibly removed.  Accordingly, throughout the Americas and the Caribbean basin there is a clear spiritual presence that tethers a diverse array of peoples and cultures to the Ifá tradition forming pockets of African religious practice throughout the New World.  Consequently, the United States, the Caribbean Islands and South America are culturally and historically linked not just through the legacy of slavery or the remnants of colonization but through the survival of Africa’s children who still call on the deities of Ifá.  Therefore, to conclude this series on the Ifá tradition, I will briefly survey Ifá traditions of the smaller Caribbean Islands as well as some critical Ifá cultural movements of the US in the 21st century.

The variations of Ifá among the religions of the Caribbean islands create an interesting medley of spiritual belief.  For instance, in the Bahamas the variation of Ifá that is practiced is Obeah.[1]  By all accounts there is no indication that Obeah was principally used in any uprisings or revolts in the Bahamas, nevertheless after the Takyi revolt in Jamaica the practice of Obeah was outlawed throughout the Caribbean basin.  This suggests that the practice of Obeah was greatly feared by colonial Europeans as they had no way of monitoring or controlling the religious practice.   As well, the fear of Obeah practice was also well established on the island of Martinique.  For European Martiniquais the fear of being poisoned by Obeah practitioners was a constant and looming concern.[2]  It was believed that not only was it very likely to be poisoned by some Obeah practitioners, many landowners believed they would be poisoned by those closest to them: a maid, wet nurse and/or cook.  However, John Savage in his article “’Black magic’ and White Terror: Slave Poisoning and Colonial Society in Early 19th Century Martinique”, argues that while poisoning was a reality white enslavers had to face, the practice was not as widespread as French paranoia suggested; instead, he claims the real issue was simply a fear of the end of slavery in Martinique and throughout the Caribbean.[3]   In Barbados as well Obeah is the chief African syncretic religious practice.  As with other English colonies, Barbadian Obeah was banned throughout the populace, but that did not keep practitioners from maintaining the tradition.  However, Obeah among Barbadians is primary used as a healing art.[4]  This highlights the fact that the modality of Obeah, as with any other religious traditions, is highly dependent on the focus or purpose of the user.  Obeah by itself is a neutral spiritual force; it can be used to heal or harm depending on the intent of the practitioner. 

Some islands of the Caribbean still retain as much of the Ifá religious practice as possible.  To explain, there are many variations of Ifá that took on a life of their own once in the New World, such as Umbanda which focused more heavily on the Portuguese language and Catholic saints.  For Trinidad and Tobago however, there is an effort to keep the Ifá religion as close to the original form as possible through the development of Oríshá, formerly called Shangos.[5]  The practice of Oríshá throughout Trinidad and Tobago closely resembles the practice of Yoruba Ifá but also infuses elements in the immediate environment.  James Houk, author of Spirits, Blood and Drums: The Orisha Religion of Trinidad, states: “Orisha is an old, established form of worship in Nigeria and its environs, which has been transplanted to the New World.  As a religion it stands on its own to meet the needs of its devotees.  Some worshippers in Trinidad, the Orisha ‘purists’ minimize the integration of extraneous elements so common to New World African-derived religions, proclaiming with pride that this African religion is as sophisticated and complex as any other.  Borrowing is nevertheless a primary and important characteristic.”[6]  Despite this effort however, Trini Oríshá still incorporates beliefs and philosophies from traditions its shares space with (Hinduism, Christianity and Islam), which reinforces the notion that the Ifá  tradition is malleable and adaptable to a variety of social and cultural environments.[7]

The Caribbean islands are inundated with the Ifá spiritual tradition, but what of the US outside the cultural gumbo of New Orleans?  In Sheldon, South Carolina, relatively close to the Sea Islands where Geechee and Gullah Americans make their home,[8] rests the Oyotunji Village, first “intentional” African community founded in the United States.[9]  This community is a prime example of Ifá cultural practice outside of Africa.  Their expressed mission is centered on “Feeding the community, engineering the progress of Black people worldwide, celebrating Yoruba African culture, traditions and heritage through practice, collaborations, education, philanthropy and research.”[10]  Within this community they function as they would in Yorubaland of Nigeria; they practice the Ifá religion, adorned themselves in traditional clothing, observe divination, use the Yoruba language and operate as a Nigerian village.  

This community stands as an important example of African American retention and preservation of Ifá culture, however, describing the community as “intentional” is somewhat problematic.  To explain, the practice of Candomblé, Umbanda, Vodun, Voodoo, Obeah, Santería, Oríshá, and Comfa are very much syncretic belief systems, but there is nothing accidental or unintentional about them.  What enslaved and oppressed Africans created in the Americas represents a deliberate effort to preserve their belief systems and philosophies amidst the horrors of their New World experience.  To imply that their efforts were fortuitous is to strip the fallen of their agency.  African syncretic belief systems in the Americas are in no way accidental, instead they are a focused effort to not only preserve ancient traditions but more importantly they stand as evidence of the continued struggle against white supremacy.
​
To close this Ifá series it is important to tie the ancient with the contemporary and artist Beyonce Knowles personifies this bridge very well for Africana America.  To elaborate, as anti-African violence has seemingly increased in the US, Beyonce has made it clear that she is channeling Yoruba deities in her music videos and photoshoots.[11] Beyonce historically does not have a long record of astute African cultural expression in her videos or lyrics, however in the last couple years this has changed dramatically as she has loudly expressed both her dissatisfaction with police violence (the half time show of Super Bowl L) and her affinity with Yoruba deities.  For example, in the song “Hold Up” from the visual album Lemonade Yoruba symbolism and imagery was abounding throughout, as was her 2017 pregnancy photo shoot.[12]  To elaborate, the website OkayAfrica.com featured an article discussing precisely this issue in February 2017; author Damola Durosomo argues that Beyonce’s video “showed the singer floating underwater while draped in bright yellow garments. Many have noticed that the images contain references to Oshun, the Yoruba orisha of love and fertility.”[13]  As an American cultural icon, her effort to positively and beautifully display African cultural imagery cannot be understated. 
The Ifá tradition is a powerful spiritual tradition that survived the horrors of the middle passage and American enslavement only to develop into one of the more diverse religious systems on the planet.  Ifá is rarely grouped in conversations concerning the world most wide spread and impactful religions, which is quite unfortunate given the richness of the practice.  However, this highlights perhaps the most critical strength of Ifá in that it does not need the same commercial appeal as other religions.  It exists as both a function of survival and cultural pride for African people in the New World.  Meaning, as long as Ifá exists it stands as a beacon of cultural strength and nuance that has helped to maintain a sense of dignity and solidarity for Africans in the New World unlike any other philosophy or phenomena.  As such, Ifá anchors Africana America to Africa through that all too critical element of culture: memory. 


[1] Timothy O. McCartney. Ten, Ten, the Bible Ten: Obeah in the Bahamas. (Timpaul Publishing Company, 1976).
[2] John Savage. "" Black magic" and white terror: slave poisoning and colonial society in early 19th century Martinique." journal of social history 40, no. 3 (2007): 635-662.
[3] Ibid, 636.
[4] Jerome S. Handler. "Slave Medicine and Obeah in Barbados, circa 1650 to 1834." New West Indian Guide/Nieuwe West-Indische Gids 74, no. 1-2 (2000): 57-90.
[5] Oríshá means Gods or Saints in the Yoruba language; Shango is the Ifá God of iron.
[6] James Houk. Spirits, blood and drums: the Orisha religion in Trinidad. (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2010), xii.
[7] Ibid., xii.  Particular European Protestantism and Catholicism as well as Hindu and Hebrew Kabbalah.
[8] “Gullah and Geechee Culture.”  http://www.georgiaencyclopedia.org/articles/arts-culture/geechee-and-gullah-culture.  Accessed April 2017. 
[9] Oyotunji Village, http://www.oyotunji.org/. Accessed April 2017.
[10] Ibid.
[11] “Beyonce Channeled the Yoruba deities Oshun and Yemoja For Her Pregnancy Shoot.”  http://www.okayafrica.com/in-brief/beyonce-channeled-yoruba-goddess-oshun-maternity-photoshoot/.  Accessed April 2017.
[12] Ibid.  To be fair the entire album was replete with Ifá imagery.
[13] Ibid.