Showing posts with label Catholicism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Catholicism. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 26, 2023

Houngan of Cayes-Jacmel

While perusing Jean Desquiron's anthology on the Haitian press, we came across this fascinating but too brief article from a Vodou priest, or houngan. Francois Cesar apparently took to the press to denounce the Catholic priest in the Marigot area, going so far as to say he was the real priest. According to Francois Cesar, the priest, Moizan, took to persecution and ignoring authority, perhaps a reference to his attempts to crack down on Vodou in the area. Indeed, he accused the priest of thinking that he was white, he could get away with abusing his authority and taking money from the people. Being white led him to think he was a Rochambeau! It would be interesting to know what happened, but by 1907 Moizan was dead. Sometime before his death, he had been transferred to Dessalines. 

Sunday, January 30, 2022

Jesuit Letters from Saint Domingue

 Due to a recent group project relying on the use of Jesuit sources from various corners of the world, we recently explored some of the order's correspondence from 18th century Saint Domingue, ably translated by C. Rivers. Based in Cap-Francais, the Jesuits established in northern Saint Domingue were active for several years (beginning in c.1704) before their expulsion. Building parishes, proselytizing among the enslaved African population, serving the poor and sick white populations, and writing to their superiors to justify their mission and the need for funding, their letters offer another perspective on French Saint Domingue. While one would like to read sources from the other religious orders active in Saint Domingue at the same time, especially the Capuchins who were in the colony previously, as well as the Dominicans in Léogâne, the Jesuit letters provide an interesting set of sources on slavery in northern Saint Domingue. The letters of Fathers Margat and Bréban, beginning in 1725 and ending in 1743, document the transformation of Saint Domingue into a slave-based plantation society. 

Fr. Margat's 1725 letter, for instance, sees the black population of the colony as the crown and glory of the Mission. By evangelizing and serving African and Creole slaves, they see the Jesuits as playing an important role in the colony. Certainly no abolitionist or modern-day anti-racist, Margat saw "Negroes" as simple, easy to convert ("little attached to their superstitions"), and reverent with regards to the sacrament of baptism. Already, in 1725, Margat hints at tensions with white planters, perhaps due to the blacks seeking the help of Jesuit priests to intercede on their behalf. Of course, like the Jesuit Relations from other corners of the world, Margat emphasized the isolation of the 18 missionaries, and their arduous work in a hostile climate (heat, tropical storms, mosquitoes, hurricanes). By 1729, Margat appears to be more exhausted and perhaps disturbed by the negative reports of the Mission's progress. For example, Margat's superior had received news of the failure of the Mission to convert the maroon or runaway slaves. He explained the failure as the result of a pointless mission to try to convert them, viewing the maroons as lawless, comparing them to highway bandits in France. Thus, Margat's letter is a testimony of the threat to colonial society posed by maroon bands, and an elucidation of the (partial) failure of the Mission to successfully convert the enslaved population. 

His 1729 letter also covered the "extinction" of the island's indigenous population. Perhaps due to the Jesuit Missions in the American mainland with native populations, Margat's superior expressed interest in possible outreach to Hispaniola's indigenes. Margat's letter explained the destruction of the indigenous population by drawing on de Las Casas, suggestive of French adherence to the "black legend" of the Spanish. Perhaps this points to the French viewing their colonial enterprise as superior to the results of the Spanish Caribbean. Of course, the Louisiana colony's settler population were about to enter into a war with the Natchez later that year, and had already engaged in brutal conflicts with the Caribs even earlier. Even more intriguing, Margat mentioned the "Indian" village of Boya in the neighboring Spanish colony. He described them as descendants of "Indian" fugitives hiding in the mountains who were discovered by hunters. The people of Boya, though unnamed as such as by Margat, were now mixed-race and Christian, but retained some of their past customs. However, due to their virtual disappearance from the island and non-existence in French Saint Domingue, Margat believed the "Negroes" were their primary focus.

Writing in 1732, Bréban's letter sheds even more light on the Jesuits and slavery in the colony. Accepting chattel slavery as the horrible cost of bringing "true religion" to Africans, Bréban condescendingly pointed out the positive and negative traits of the black population. According to him, half of the slaves were from "Guinea" and the Africans resisted their enslavement in various ways. Indeed, revolts on slaveships were not unheard of, and slave suicides were a frequent problem for the French. The fear of poisonings was real and legitimate, as the case of one slave poisoning more than 60 blacks of one of the wealthiest planters in the region demonstrates. Africans and their descendants also used song and satire to mock others, especially whites. Thus, despite their "crude nature" and the cruel laws and practices put in place against them, they constantly asserted their humanity and creativity in a variety of ways to survive. Marronage, mentioned in the letter of Margat, undoubtedly persisted. In fact, Bréban asserted that Jesuits often became intermediaries between runaway slaves and their masters.

Although he considered blacks "half-beasts" and thieves, Bréban was somewhat sympathetic to their plight. Blaming their masters and the white population as the principal obstacle to the Mission, he saw the vanity of clothing among the slaves as a flaw inherited from their masters. Moreover, they were thieves and liars because their masters did not provide the bare necessities of food and clothing. Consequently, one could not be surprised that the enslaved population was always stealing food, attire, or other items. The French were also abusing, raping, and torturing enslaved Africans, with one case going so far as an enraged Frenchman murdering nearly all of his "property." Overall, the French were an impediment to the Christian example or model behavior the Jesuits wished to impart to their charges. The excessive work schedule and lack of basic necessities forced slaves to use their little free time to cultivate their gardens in order to feed themselves, which got in the way of their attending Mass. Even free blacks were considered harsh slaveowners. And, as one could except from someone with a low opinion of Africans and having to confront a linguistic barrier, preparing slaves to receive Communion first required questioning them several times on Catholic faith.

Our final letter examined in the exercise, Margat's 1743 letter to Procurator General of the missions of the same Society in the Islands of America, is even more detailed than all the previous correspondence on the actual priests who served in the Mission. Going back to the beginnings of the Jesuits in the Caribbean, Margat connects the early Jesuit presence in Saint Domingue and the French Caribbean possessions. Much of the body consists of an overview of the various works accomplished by leading Jesuits int eh mission. Father Jean-Baptiste de Pers of Flanders received mention for his organizational talent, skill for working with blacks, and his historical notes. Fr. Olivier of Morin Parish was a defender of enslaved blacks. Fr. Boutin was perhaps the most exceptional for his piety, comprehension of African languages, and leadership in administering the "Negro" Mass. Besides their missionary work among African slaves, Margat included examples of the work of Jesuits on behalf of paupers, the sick, and groups like white sailors. Since many came to Saint Domingue seeking their fortune but few became wealthy, the Jesuits always had poor or unfortunate whites to assist in Le Cap. As one would expect for a work of its genre, Margat requested additional assistance while emphasizing the positive impact of the Jesuits.

Although we still hope to continue our reading of Jesuit sources on Saint Domingue and French "Empire" in this era, one can already see the seeds of future conflict between the Jesuits and whites in the colony. Even their mild criticism of the institution of slavery would have won friends among local planters. It would seem that their missionary work among the African captive population probably did have some degree of success, particularly with priests like Boutin willing to use Creole and learn African languages. To some extent, Haitian Catholicism probably owes more than we realize to the Jesuits in northern Saint Domingue. Just as the Catholic Kingdom of Kongo and Catholic missions to Arada in the 17th century may have likewise shaped the evolution of our faith and spiritual practices.

Sunday, July 28, 2019

Saturday, January 7, 2017

Brighton Rock

Although Brighton Rock is centered on a teenage gangster in the seaside town of Brighton, thematically this novel fits in quite well with Greene's Catholic novels. Rose, in particular, her ability to stand by and love a man committed to damnation regardless of tragic consequences, stood out to the reader as one of Greene's more memorable characters. Ida, as a socially 'free' women driven by Right and Wrong rather than good and evil (the framework of Rose), is a remarkable character in her sexual freedom and autonomy. The contrast between Right and Wrong versus good and evil also demonstrates the murkiness of ethics in a modern society in which religion does not dictate law. Thus, in her own way, Rose's belief in love and fidelity to Pinkie is arguably 'good' even if the actions of the characters are Wrong. Similarly, Ida's pursuit of what's Right, removed from a Catholic ethics, ignores a larger purpose or calling. These opposing conceptions illustrate part of the conflict between Ida and Rose, who though young and naive in her own way, nonetheless clings to her 'Roman' predilection for damnation and heaven. And the suggestion of a Catholic hope for all, despite it all, figures prominently here as in Greene's best Catholic novels, in spite of the ultimate tragedy that awaits Rose.  

Monday, June 6, 2016

Graham Greene's Diamonds From Sierra Leone

Graham Greene's The Heart of the Matter is another masterpiece of his Catholic novels, all of which I hope to finish. Much like James Wood's useful introduction to the brilliant novel indicates, Greene's Catholicism was often of an anti-institutional kind that can appeal to Protestant tastes or people of all faiths. The Heart of the Matter accomplishes this just as well as The Power and the Glory, and the Freetown, Sierra Leone setting is used quite well here. While Greene's depictions of the local population, especially the Africans and Syrians, could be seen in a 21st century light as racist or questionable, there is a genuine love and concern for all residents of that "Tower of Babel" in Scobie, and, by extension, Greene himself. 

Whilst hardly an anti-colonial novel and lacking the socialism of Camus, whose The Plague is compared to Greene's novel by Wood, Greene is a better writer with a magical combination of humor, accessible prose, subtle and unsubtle phrasing and metaphors, and a deep commitment to Christian values in ways a secular leftist would approve. A tale of love, loyalty, faith, and humanity's struggle to know humankind is a universal struggle, and Greene's setting during World War II in a "white man's grave" colony bring this to the fore. Naturally, some may object to the image of Africa in Greene's imagination (sometimes reminscient of Conrad, perhaps), but with a closer look, Greene's story could just as easily be set in postwar London or Northampton, especially in the battle for love, intimacy, selflessness and pity between men and women, white and black, Allies and  Axis, neutrals and colonials. Scobie's own Christ-like action at the end and good intentions bring to mind the unnamed whisky priest of his other famous Catholic novel, as both must confront guilt and the consequences of their actions, hoping to find some redemption. 

I only wish Ali, Scobie's "boy," and other African characters were given equal consideration or focus for a inclusive narrative on Freetown during World War II. As indicated in the novel and Greene's real-life experience during the War, obviously espionage, smuggling, submarine attacks, local unrest, and a corrupt colonial police and bureaucracy existed, yet we see nothing of the "wharf rats" or the numerous "mammies" who populate the city, only offered rare glimpses into their thoughts and world. And what of the West Indians, the Indian fortuneteller, or Tallit, the Syrian Chrsitian rival of Yusef, who disappears from the novel rather abruptly? Perhaps what Greene's novel needs is a response or counternarrative, maybe along the lines of Kamel Daoud's The Meursault Investigation, for a fuller picture of Freetown during that time. 

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

The Power and the Glory

Graham Greene's The Power and the Glory is one of those rare novels with such spiritual import one is left breathless after finishing. Reminding me of Philip K. Dick's masterpiece, The Transmigration of Timothy Archer, Greene's thoroughly Catholic tale of a Mexican priest on the run is essentially Christian, just like Dick's late work. Both also share a devotion to agape as the reservoir (and goal?) of Christian meaning and faith, done to excellent effect in both works. Just as one character chooses compassion over enlightenment in Dick's novel, here the unnamed Mexican priest, returns to certain death to fulfill his duty and try to love everyone as he loves his grave sin. Greene's novel also brings to mind the problematic ways in which leftist insurgents and governments, pursuing the same goals, in the end, as the Catholic Church, can also harm or exploit the population in which they claim to be fighting for. No one is left unscathed in this touching tale, and much like the life of the saints or Christ himself, there is always redemption or redeemable aspects of the unfavorable characters, including the lieutenant hell-bent on killing the unnamed priest, the last Catholic cleric left in a state whose socialist government banned Catholicism.  Furthermore, the ambiguous loose ends of the novel, which another novelist may not have succeeded in pulling off, contribute to the text's core themes of the community, aided by the novel's shift in characters, as the decisions made by a few reverberate throughout the province as the "whiskey priest" lives on the run. In short, a brilliant novel that Catholics and non-Catholics alike can enjoy, be mesmerized by, and appreciate the Mexican setting. 

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Elizabeth Lange


Lange was a fascinating product of the Haitian Revolution. She moved to Cuba as a result of the Haitian Revolution, then settled in Baltimore where she started the first black sister organization in the Catholic Church (as well as educating black students). Lange's life demonstrates the links connecting different areas of the Black Atlantic, and thus an appropriate historical figure to learn about this month. 

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Nkangi Kiditu

Crucifix from the early 17th century Kingdom of Kongo, in what is now the Congo and Angola. I believe this is from the Brooklyn Museum. The kingdom's ruler converted to Catholicism in the early 1490s, and Christianization permeated in other social classes beyond the elite of the centralized polity in West Central Africa. John Thornton and others have written extensively on Christianity and the general history of this kingdom, which would in a few centuries splinter due to the chaos wrought by the trans-Atlantic slave trade and Portuguese meddling, many of the BaKongo ending up enslaved in places such as Haiti, Cuba, and Brazil. From an amazing book, Central Africans and Cultural Transformations in the American Diaspora, edited by Linda Heywood, I learned that forms of popular Catholicism practiced in this region of Central Africa likely shaped Haitian popular Catholicism in the 19th century, which can be seen in specific forms of Marian devotion and syncretistic practices. In addition, these crucifix objects show local styles fusing with Portuguese and European Catholic ritual art, with a Kongolese Christ. This reminds me of an earlier post I did on Beatriz Kimpa Vita, a self-proclaimed prophet who claimed to be possessed by Saint Anthony, who was of great importance to local Catholics, and proclaimed Jesus Christ was indeed black and from the Kongo, another example of Christianity's importance and following among the populace of the Kingdom of Kongo.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Black Madonna: Loa Erzulie

Here is the Black Madonna of Czestochowska, Poland



 Erzulie by Gerard Valcin

Veve

Catholic European Christian iconography and art clearly influenced Haitian art and popular religion. The image of the Black Madonna could have disseminated in Haiti with the presence of Polish soldiers in the French army sent to reconquer the land under Napoleon's brother-in-law. Of course the spread of the Black Madonna image could have also arose from later Catholic influences in Haiti after the Vatican finally recognized the nation in the mid-19th century or during several Church-run "anti-superstition" campaigns against Haitians who practiced Vodou. Regardless, it's a fascinating example of how art and ideas transcend race, gender, and religious lines. Scholars disagree on the Black Madonnas of Christian Europe, but it's appearance in Haitian religious practice and art demonstrates how individuals and peoples borrow ideas and reinterpret them. Thus, the Catholic Virgin becomes a spirit of sexuality and love in Haitian Vodou.