Frank L. Samson
Sociology Department, Stanford University
Abstract
Theophus Smith's Conjuring Culture provides the hermeneutical
tools to track the transmission and transformation of Biblical images,
metaphors, and figures beyond the sacred site of the African American
church into the popular cultural forms of film, music, and performance
poetry as exemplified by Saul Stacey Williams. Williams uses Biblical
figures to challenge white supremacy, patriarchy, and misogyny, while
identifying his cultural productions as expressions of divinity. Rooting
himself firmly in the hip hop genre, Williams' brilliant appropriations
of the Bible as a "conjure book" point to the continued relevance and
importance of Christianity to contemporary youth and popular culture.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and
the Word was God.
- John 1:1
If Biggie Smalls' first album had not been entitled "Ready
To Die", don't you think he would be alive right now? How dare
anyone be surprised at that! It's very simple! It's very simple.[1]
- Saul Williams
[1] In Conjuring Culture, Theophus H. Smith sets out to explore
the ways in which the act of "conjuring" infuses the religious
and cultural practices of African Americans and more specifically its
multi-faceted deployments throughout African American Christianity and
spirituality. According to Smith:
conjure is a magical means of transforming reality. Here the term
"magic" is best understood as one system . . . for mapping
and managing the world in the form of signs.[2]
By defining conjure and magic in such a way, Smith sets
out to rescue it from the Western scientistic sensibility that relegates
such terms to the realm of the irrational, primitive, and pre-Enlightenment.
Instead, Smith argues for an alternative system of signs that map onto
reality in order to control it, in much the same way that modern chemistry
has developed a system of symbols to represent elements in order to
manipulate them. By identifying conjure as a legitimate practice embedded
in African American everyday life, Smith teases out some of the distinctive
and life-affirming rituals that have and continue to sustain the African
American community throughout slavery, Jim Crow, and the more sophisticated
and subtle forms of white supremacy in practice in the United States
today.
[2] Given the essential function of conjurational performances in
African American cultural and religious practices, Smith engages in
a religious study which:
proposes a view of conjure performance that encompasses social-historical
transformations as well as folklore practices. I refer to such transformations
as conjuring culture, specifically where I find (1) ritually
patterned behaviors and performative uses of language and symbols
(2) conveying a pharmacopeic or healing/harming intent and (3) employing
biblical figures and issuing in biblical configurations of cultural
experience.[3]
The centrality of the oral tradition in African American life serves
as an integral part of community building, integration, and sustenance.
Through stories, sermons, and social conversations, African Americans
have maintained communal and generational bonds in the face of an isolationist
and individualistic American ethos. These ritual behaviors and linguistic
modes of communication have provided a means of communion and catharsis
for one of U.S. racism's despised and dehumanized people. The fact that
survival of African Americans would entail the creative and innovative
appropriation of biblical themes and figures testifies to the power
and prophetic relevance of the Judeo-Christian narratives and scriptures
in African American life.
[3] Smith points out that the African American community's biblical
hermeneutics challenge much of Western culture's pernicious scriptural
interpretation. Biblical narratives have aided and abetted the white
supremacist argument that African peoples are inferior and helped legitimate
chattel slavery in America. Rather than focusing on critical re-readings
and recoveries of misused or unused sections of the Bible, as other
African American religious scholars have done, Smith concentrates his
efforts on a different aspect of African American biblical hermeneutics
and appropriation:
Here the sacred text of Western culture, the Bible, comes to view
as a magical formulary for African Americans: a book of ritual prescription
for reenvisioning and, therein, transforming history and culture .
. . What is innovative is a remarkably efficacious use of biblical
figures, with a historically transformative and therapeutic intent,
in the social imagination and political performances of black North
America.[4]
Smith's analysis of the transformative use of biblical figures serves
as the explanatory framework in this essay. In particular, this essay
explores the ways in which African Americans use the Bible as a "conjure
book", that is, "as a kind of magical formulary for prescribing
cures and curses, and for invoking extraordinary powers in order to
re-envision, revise, and transform the conditions of human existence."[5] Thus the Bible "functions as an iconographic source of figures
and incantations to be mimetically appropriated and replicated."[6]
[4] Introducing the section on "Theoretical Perspectives",
Smith invokes the work of Afro-American philosopher Lucius Outlaw. Smith
cites Outlaw's call for a "hermeneutic of black cultural productions
. . . a study of black religious language and symbolism in sermons and
spirituals; a study of the language of the blues; and a study of black
political writings and speeches, particularly protest language; a study
of poetic and literary languages and symbolisms."[7]
As a response to Outlaw's intellectual summons, the following essay
attempts to address this last genre of black cultural production - poetry
- and in particular the performance form of poetry that is undergoing
a resurgence today. This recent revival appears to derive from the spoken
word of the 1960s and 70s Black Arts movement, now resurrected and infused
with the innovative rhythms and oppositional energies unleashed by hip
hop culture during the 1980s and 90s. To illustrate the insights gained
from Smith's analytical propositions, this essay explores the work of
Saul Williams, recognized as one of the leading young voices in the
current spoken word renaissance. This paper identifies the ways in which
Biblical figures and conjurational practices continue to play a role
in contemporary black cultural production as exemplified in Williams'
work.
Saul Williams
[5] Saul Stacey Williams, performance poet, actor, musician, and writer,
is perhaps best known for his lead role in the movie Slam, which
won the 1998 Sundance Grand Jury Prize and Cannes' Camera d'Or (best
first film) awards. Emerging as the Nuyorican Poets Cafe's Grand Slam
Champion in 1996, Saul captured the attention of Slam director
Marc Levin, who was impressed by Williams' poetic imagination and masterful
oratory. Saul Williams' sophisticated command of poetic language can
be traced back to the culturally-enriched family life that his mother,
a school teacher, and his father, a Baptist minister, provided for the
young Williams. According to Williams, they "were always concerned
about my exposure to everything, so we were always going to Broadway
plays and concerts."[8]
Enrolled in a magnet school, this adolescent aspiring actor participated
in a class called "Shake Hands with Shakespeare", playing
Marc Antony in the school's staging of the play Julius Caesar.
At the same time, Williams was inspired to begin writing while listening
to hip hop music and rap artists who - Williams recognized upon later
reflection - introduced him to some "big words" used in their
lyrics. Challenged and intrigued, Williams turned to the dictionary
to decipher the meaning of these "big words" and began to
compose his own lyrics using new words he discovered there. He would
then recite these rhymes as part of a neighborhood rap group with his
school friends, "battling other MC's" every day during lunch
at the cafeteria to improve his skills. The Reverend Williams would
also recruit his son to compose anti-drug rap rhymes for church youth
rallies in Newburgh, New York. This early exposure to hip hop, Shakespeare,
and Broadway performances would give rise to the poetry and dramatic
artistry that propelled Saul Williams onto his road to recognition.
[6] While in high school, Williams participated in an exchange program
that provided him with the opportunity to study in Brazil. According
to Williams, this exposure was significant in expanding his perspective
on life and culture. Having discovered and nurtured his performing interests
at an early age, Williams would go on to double major in philosophy
and drama, receiving his Bachelor's degree from Morehouse College in
Atlanta. Continuing to pursue his thespian ambitions, Williams attended
New York University and obtained a Master in Fine Arts degree in Acting.
It was during this period of his life that he was first exposed to the
world of "slam" poetry, a competitive form of performance
poetry that resonated with his childhood background as a hip hop lyricist
and his ongoing passion for acting. In a Boston Globe
article by Peter Brunette, Williams reflects on this initial exposure:
"Someone took me to a poetry reading in 1994, and I was like,
that's what everything was for," he says. He started writing
poetry again and, after working through his fear about reciting in
public, Williams eventually won the Grand Slam, with director Levin
in attendance. The young writer had been fretting about how he was
going to unite his two loves, poetry and acting, and then Levin called.
"It was like the glass slipper that fit my foot perfectly,"
Williams says.[9]
With Marc Levin, Saul Williams helped to workshop Slam's screenplay,
and eventually landed the lead role in this award winning independent
film about drugs and dreams, poetry and prisons, and black life on the
block in Washington DC's urban "'hoods."
[7] In addition to Slam, Williams has been featured in two
documentaries about slam poetry, Underground Voices and Slam
Nation, and a Public Broadcasting Service series on African American
culture, I'll Make Me a World. Williams has published two poetry
books, The Seventh Octave and S - he, and is working on
a third book/CD-ROM production. He has also appeared on several spoken
word compilations and hip hop albums. Williams has performed alongside
earlier generations of poets, including Allen Ginsberg, Amiri Baraka,
and Sonia Sanchez, and performed as the opening act for contemporary
hip hop groups such as The Roots. Williams locates his art at the juncture
between poetry and hip hop: an intergenerational fusion of African American
oral and literary traditions. Considered in light of his familial ties
to the church, Saul Williams and his work call out for an exploration
of the ways in which conjurational practices and biblical figures continue
to inform contemporary African American cultural production.
Poetry and recitation as incantation
The stuff that I'm reciting, they're incantations, spells - we spell
words - that we're putting . . . that I'm just putting out there because
I want that rippling effect to create the world I want to live in.[10]
- Saul Williams
[8] This statement made during a performance and question and answer
program at the Askwith Education Forum at Harvard University, illustrates
the extent to which Saul Williams himself recognizes the conjurational
component of his poetry. Self-identifying his recitations as incantations
and spells, Williams' work invites a reading through the theoretical
framework provided by Theophus Smith's notion of conjuring culture.
In observing the power of language to transform thoughts and action,
Williams puns the word spell to draw attention to its multivalent
definition. Williams draws upon the general conception that words
are spelled, acted upon as the direct object of the verb spell,
to indicate the composition of words by individual letters. In a clever
twist, Williams also builds off the magical definition of the noun spell
to act as a verb on the indirect object, words, to connote the
incantational use of words acting upon society and bringing about an
intentional outcome, or as Williams puts it, "to create the world I
want to live in." Williams demonstrates a belief that words as
signs, and languages as systems, are flexible and available to individuals
who wish to utilize them to restructure and/or reshape the various worlds
and world views people inhabit. Williams also appears to recognize that
despite the shifting signification of words, they can nevertheless have
material impact, even if simply opening up individuals' imaginations
to serve as a wellspring for action.
[9] The power of discourse becomes less ambiguous and more functional
when viewed through the perspective of African American conjurational
processes. As Smith points out:
some language users are more proficient in utilizing the power of
discourse to recall and project ritual significations: poets and vocalists,
preachers and orators, writers and dramatists. Their varied inducements
to restore such a ritual cosmos are also an invitation to make the
figurative efficacious; to participate in symbols not only cognitively,
but so as to fulfill them on the scale of group actions and social
dramas.[11]
Viewed in such a light, Smith shows that the use of words - the power
of discourse - by many of the word-smiths of the African American community,
be they poets, vocalists, preachers, orators, writers, or dramatists,
operate at a level which can inform group action. It is also important
to recognize that everyone can make use of the power of words, not solely
the specialists that Smith writes about. The accessibility of discursive
power - the ability of everyday peoples to communicate with one another,
to create themselves and the world around them - unleashes a form of
power that can serve as the basis of a radically democratic politics.
The appropriation of language poses the possibility of subverting elite
discourse. Linguistic proficiency may vary, but the transformational
efficacy of symbols may be more universally accessible because the signifying
power of words relies upon their enactment by ordinary individuals.
[10] Commenting on the power of the word to "create the world",
Saul Williams cites an easily recognized biblical narrative. He reminds
the audience that:
The Bible says "In the Beginning . . . and God said, 'Let there
be light' and then there was," not there was light and
then God said.
God said, and then . . .
And it's always been known: the power of word. The power of word,
that's what Slam was about, is about. The power of word to
affect change.[12]
In this example, Saul Williams draws upon Genesis 1:3 NRSV[13] to illustrate his point. Shaped
by a highly biblicist society, U.S. popular imagination can readily
understand Williams' argument when he draws upon this well-known passage
to illuminate his point: that the power of word to effect change can
be traced back to stories of the world's creation. This central tenet
- the power of words - forms the foundation of the poetics, spiritics,
and politics of Saul Williams' life and work.
Slam
[11] In the film Slam, in which Saul Williams plays the lead
role and for which he is credited as one of four screenwriters, the
film's title itself draws upon the same multi-definitional punning that
Williams employed in using the word spell. The movie's plot focuses
on Raymond Joshua, a young man living in Washington DC who is arrested
and imprisoned after drugs are discovered in his vehicle. While serving
time awaiting his trial, he begins to write and discover the power of
words, especially after coming across a prison writing class taught
by Lauren (poet Sonja Sohn) who encourages Raymond's writing. Lauren
later introduces Raymond to the world of slam poetry when he is temporarily
released on bail. Through writing, and later slam poetry, Raymond discovers
a level of freedom he is only beginning to explore. The significance
of the film's title Slam therefore lies not only in referring
to the competitive performance poetry known as slam poetry, but also
represents a shortened version of a colloquial identifier of prisons:
the "slammer". Once again, multiple levels of meaning are
present.
[12] While the title of the film operates on different levels, what
is perhaps more significant to the conjurational interest of this essay
is the name of the character played by Saul Williams. In the chapter
on "Prophecy" in Conjuring Culture, Theophus Smith
calls the reader's attention to the life of Sojourner Truth, highlighting
the "signifying import of her name", which is "emblematic
of her prophetic and political vocation."[14]
With a similar intention, Saul Williams clearly selects his character's
name to imbue the poetry that the character performs with incantational
potential and power. During the Askwith Education Forum, Williams acknowledged:
I named the main character in Slam, Raymond Joshua. Because
Joshua . . . because in the Bible, Joshua marches around the city
of Jericho seven times and the walls of Jericho come tumbling down.
And I say, "Well, if I lace the poetry in this film with enough
spells, strong enough spells, and they play it on 700 screens, the
walls of Babylon should come tumbling down."
And it was real simple. And it was just all about affecting change,
affecting consciousness, affecting the way people think.[15]
Thus Williams envisions a connection between his character's name and
its potential for mimetic transformation. Williams employs the biblical
figures of Joshua, Jericho, and Babylon to cast a spell through the
film Slam.
[13] Using Smith's theoretical framework for conjuring culture,
the film and its main character Raymond Joshua can be viewed as a ritual
performative action, playing several times a day on movie screens across
the country, reenacting or recasting the spell each time. In the Old
Testament, Joshua 6:4-21 NRSV describes the Lord's promise to Moses'
successor Joshua to deliver Jericho to the Israelites. Performing ritual
acts prescribed by the Lord, Joshua leads his army in a march around
the city seven times, causing the surrounding wall that protected the
inhabitants of Jericho to "fall down flat" and allowing the
Israelites to enter and destroy the city. By appropriating the Jericho
narrative, Williams casts a spell that has a harming effect upon the
figure that Jericho mimetically represents. It is significant, however,
to note Williams' minor modification to the Jericho figure. If the mimetic
conjuration of Saul Williams' spell is successful, he intends that not
Jericho, but the walls of Babylon, another biblical figure,
come tumbling down.
[14] In the chapter on "Apocalypse," Smith undergoes a treatment
of the apocalyptic figure of Babylon.[16]
According to Smith, the Black Muslim and Black Panther Party refer to
America as Babylon. Smith also relates the figure of Babylonian Captivity
to the experience of Rastafarians in the New World.[17]
In the context of the Jericho conjuration, Williams' reference to the
walls of Babylon likely pertains to the fallen city of Babylon in Revelation
18. If so, the Babylon type may indeed apply directly to America as
a symbol of decadence, or the figure may connote a decadent civilization
as a whole. Whichever allusion is implied, Williams' mimetic conjuration
using the figures of Joshua and Jericho would cause the fall of Babylon's
walls and the city's destruction by those excluded beyond the walls.
Moreover, the Jericho narrative places a curse upon those who would
attempt to rebuild its decadence (Josh 6:26). The African American prophetic
tradition has long called attention to the decadence of America with
its pernicious ideology and practice of white supremacy. In general,
anti-colonial African critique long ago recognized the decadence of
Western civilization and its Eurocentrism. In light of these cultural-historical
resources, Williams' conjurational use of the Joshua, Jericho, and Babylon
biblical figures clearly draws from and maintains these critical and
prophetic traditions.
Biblical appropriations in Williams' poetry
I love . . .
as instruments come to life through breath
the wind sends my high notes to indigo communions
with Coltranes' "Favorite Things"
. . . this is my body
which is given for you.
this is my blood
which is shed for you . . . [18]
[15] The Bible also serves as a resource for Saul Williams' poetry.
From his love poem "The Winds' Song", the verse above ends
with a variation of the covenant of the Lord's Supper (Matt 26:26-28;
Mark 14:22-24; Luke 22:19-20). As the covenantal sacrifice that begins
the Passion narrative, the Christian tradition interprets the Passion
as the ultimate act of Jesus' love for the Lord's children. Jesus' Passion,
His suffering and self-sacrifice, resonates deeply with the pain and
suffering experienced by African Americans. As prominent black theologian
James Cone writes:
Jesus' death was a sacrifice . . . Thus the reality and the depth
of God's presence in human suffering is revealed . . . especially
in his death on the cross . . . He is not merely sympathetic with
the social pain of the poor but becomes totally identified with them
in their agony and pain.[19]
In both historical and contemporary day-to-day experience, this African
American encounter with suffering gives rise to the blues sensibility,
which Cone also identifies in his classic treatise on the spirituals
and the blues:
[T]he blues is the experience of being black in a white racist society.
It is that peculiar feeling that makes you know that there is something
seriously wrong with the society, even though you may not possess
the intellectual or political power to do anything about it.[20]
Therefore, when Williams appropriates the sacrificial covenant as a
poetic metaphor, this phrase draws upon the suffering felt and known
by African Americans, transformed through Jesus' sacrificial Passion
to communicate one of the deepest expressions of love that words could
ever convey.
[16] A versatile poet, Williams deploys biblical phrases in a variety
of contexts to signify different meanings. In "Luna See - Moon
Eye," he utilizes the second half of the covenantal phrase - "this
is my blood which is shed for you" - in a completely different
context, as illustrated in the following:
this is my blood which is shed for
. . . you motherfuckers are undeserving
forcibly penetrating my indigo silence
in the name of the father
and the Sun[21]
In its entirety, the poem appears to be a critique of patriarchy and
misogyny. The use of blood in the poem signifies both the image of blood
shedding during birth as well as during the menstrual cycle: this last
image re-directing attention to the moon metaphors in the poem's title.
[17] In the verse above, however, the images that come after the covenantal
offering - a scriptural symbol of sacrificial love appropriated from
the Lord's Supper narrative - cast a different meaning upon the phrase.
The line immediately following the sacrificial offering castigates those
patriarchal individuals who are born of the womb that bled for their
existence. The misogynistic connotations are even further pronounced
by the rapacious imagery, "forcibly penetrating," embedded in the
next line. The last line of the verse and poem contains another biblical
appropriation: "in the name of the father and the Sun." Again,
Williams assigns this phrase a different meaning than that employed
by the Bible. The phrase can be found in Matt 28:19 NRSV as part of
a trinitarian declaration, "Go therefore and make disciples of
all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son
and of the Holy Spirit." In the context of Williams' poem, however,
it becomes an incisive critique of patriarchal society, and perhaps
not indirectly, the androcentrism of Christianity itself. As black feminist
theologian Cheryl Townsend Gilkes points out, "Black people learned
of God as 'a father of the fatherless' through patriarchal imagery in
an androcentric text."[22]
In a clever twist, Williams goes further in clarifying the antagonism
between gendered images by substituting the homonym "Sun"
for "son." As the moon is an icon often associated with femininity,
Williams accents the gender-based tensions in this poem by incorporating
Luna's antithetical icon: the Sun.
[18] On his recent project, an album of spoken word and musical tracks
entitled, Amethyst Rock Star, Williams continues to challenge
the authority and legitimacy of patriarchy using the first lines of
the Lord's Prayer as his poetic vehicle. The poem, entitled "Our Father"
begins with a three-and-a-half minute sermon on being a good father
(delivered by Rev. Saul Williams, Sr.), followed by the younger Williams'
own recitation:[23]
Our Father which art in
St. Francis Hospital for hypertension
Our Father which art in
Jumpsuits in prisons, federal detention
Our Father which art in
Dark bars and alleys, lethal injection
Our Father which art in
Denial, Delusion. This can not happen again.
Hallowed be thy
State your name for the record.
--------------------------------
Dear Goddess, We made this break-beat just for you
As an offering, Can you hear us now?
Dear Goddess, We made this break-beat just for you
As an offering, Can you feel us now?
Dear Goddess, We made this break-beat just for you
As an offering, Can you heal us now?
This recitation has at least two apparent interpretations. If framed
within the context of the African American community that Williams identifies
with, the opening verses serve as a stark reminder about some of the
social issues facing African American men, resulting from America's
institutionalized racism. High stress levels, incarceration, drug abuse,
and mental breakdown are among the many challenges facing black men
in a U.S. civilization founded on the malicious ideology of white supremacy.
[19] In the context of the whole poem, a second interpretation reveals
a critique of the patriarchal father figure. While the poem's initial
lines discuss real social issues, they also question the extent to which
men in such situations can fulfill the role of a caring and responsible
father (assuming the heterosexist and patriarchal conception of the
family). A significant shift takes place after the appropriation of
the Lord's Prayer at the start of the poem; Williams sends an appeal
to the divine, bearing the greeting "Dear Goddess." In a poetic twist,
Williams articulates his belief, or rather recovers an obfuscated faith,
in a matriarchal divinity. In doing so, Williams enacts a "reminder"
described by Cheryl Townsend Gilkes: "[M]otherly omnipotence attributed
to God within the black tradition has been used as a corrective and
reminder to those who would restrict the imagery of God to the realm
of the male and who would forget the larger formulation, of paramount
importance to the tradition, that 'God is spirit.' "[24]
[20] In another poem, "Children of the Night," which Williams,
after performing the piece, described as "an incantation of sorts,"[25] other biblical allusions are
made:
Who will deny them when thrice crows the cock?
Will it be you Peter?
decked in daymares denial
masqueraded in matter
over mind
under trial
self is the servant to serpents with wings[26]
The first two lines in this selection make use of the Gospel stories
which tell of Peter's denial of Jesus during the Passion narratives
(Matt 26:69-75; Mark 14:66-72; Luke 22:54-62; John 18:15-18, 25-27).
Within the context of Williams' poem, which is a complex composition
of metaphors, myths, and mysticism, the phrase challenges those who
stifle the importance of children and their imaginations. Peter becomes
the figure that represents the fetishization of material concerns over
and against visionary imagination, because matter takes precedence over
mind. In the Biblical text, Peter denies his relationship to Jesus in
order to save himself from Jesus' persecution. In his poetic allusion,
Williams stories the scene of a society that does not value its children
nor recognizes that they are the dreamers and visionaries of a world
locked within the iron cages of rationalization and secularism. The
image in the last line, serpents with wings, does not derive directly
from scripture. However, it does resemble a dragon, which occupies a
significant role in the Book of Revelation as the embodiment of the
Devil (Rev 12:3). With this last metaphor, Williams conveys the message
that selfishness contributes to the problem of evil in society.
[21] The apocalyptic figure of Revelation once again supplies an array
of symbols, codes, and characters which can be conjured by a prolific
poet such as Williams. In the incantational piece cited above, the reference
to Peter is preceded by an earlier stanza which contains the following
lines:
the rumors of war and famine
diseases and storms of hail[27]
These are all apocalyptic images drawn from the Book of Revelation:
war, famine, diseases can be linked to 3 of the 4 horsemen of the Apocalypse
(Rev 6:1-8 NRSV - "to kill with sword, famine, and pestilence .
. . ") while the storms of hail can be found in Rev 8:7. Another
familiar apocalyptic symbol is used in a later stanza:
orbiting the realms of the ordinary
through the ordinances of those ordained by the beast[28]
In Revelation 13, two beasts are introduced as servants of the dragon
(Satan). In Williams' appropriation, the stanza lashes out at the demonization
of the marginalized, who are judged as abnormal (outside the realms
of the ordinary) according to the norms and laws (ordinances) created
by those whom Williams characterizes as legitimated (ordained) by the
beast and bearing its authority. In another poem, "Amethyst Rocks,"
the numerical representation of the name of the beast (Rev 13:18) is
invoked in another social commentary:
'dodgin' cops
'cause five-0 are the 666[29]
"Five-0" is a colloquial term used to describe police officers.
Signifying police with 666 (the number of the beast), and placed in
the context of the image of the beast deployed in his earlier poem,
the poet-conjurer Williams performs multiple mimetic conjurations. By
marking the police with the number of the beast, Williams casts a spell
that intends to bring upon the police and other representatives of the
beast the same fate that befalls the beast and its followers: defeat
and damnation (Rev 19:20-21) .
[22] In addition to apocalyptic themes, Williams uses other symbols
and conjurations drawn from the Bible to reaffirm the divinity and creativity
of human beings. One of the numerical figures found throughout Revelation,
and the Bible as a whole, is the number 7, which in biblical terms is
the divine number. Several of Williams' poems incorporate the number
7 in the text or the title.[30] In earlier remarks on the spell
he is casting with the movie Slam, Williams revealed that a component
of his performative ritual included presentation on "700 screens."
The ubiquitous presence of the number 7 throughout Williams' work testifies
to his belief in the divine nature, power and potential of human beings
to create. In another mimetic conjuration near the end of "Children
of the Night," Williams declares:
i am the darkness that precedes the light[31]
This declaration can be traced to Gen 1:2. In an insightful analysis
of darkness and light in the Old Testament, minister and theologian
Octavius A. Gaba writes, "The Yahwist apparently views darkness
as positive, for darkness (hosek) is where God is when the spirit
of God moves over the waters prior to the creation of light."[32] Gaba concludes his analysis with the following
remarks:
Re-ontologization, the systematic restoration of darkness and being
dark to the being of God, is critical . . . Now is the time to rebuild
and restore that which rightfully points to God and participates in
being itself: darkness.[33]
This process of "re-ontologization" appears to have already
occurred in the mind and work of Saul Williams. His declarative "i
am the darkness" is permeated by power and creative energy. In
this last example, the Bible as "conjure book" provides the
very symbols by which the conjurer-poet Williams conjures within himself
the power of the Divine Creator.
Conclusion
[23] Among African American urban youth, hip hop culture is vibrant
and thriving. Many young people born in the 1970s and 1980s claim hip
hop as the voice of their generation. Contemporary African American
religious scholars would do well to raise the question: do the Bible
and Christianity remain alive and well in the cultural and artistic
production of the new generation of hip hop youth, just as it inspired
the lives and works of earlier black artists who produced the blues,
soul, and R&B? Saul Williams roots himself firmly in the hip hop
genre yet defines his work as the next stage in the evolution of hip
hop. As the preceding analyses of Williams' artistic projects indicate,
Theophus Smith's Conjuring Culture provides a goldmine of analytical
approaches that reveal the ongoing presence of the Bible as a "conjure-book."
Given the biblicate character of African American culture and the rich
source of images, metaphors, and figures that the Bible provides for
spiritual nourishment and existential inspiration, the continued appearance
of Biblical appropriations in the work of new generations of African
American artists indicates the lasting and long term influence of Christianity
among African Americans today. Not only do biblical narratives serve
African Americans as instruments for the expression of suffering, healing,
and hope, but they also provide the conjurational figures and phrases
from which new, better worlds can be imagined and brought into existence.
Notes
This paper was prepared for a seminar on African American Biblical
Hermeneutics, taught by Professor Allen Callahan at the Harvard Divinity
School, Spring 2000. Special thanks to Professor Callahan, David Maduli,
and Christine G. Cordero for their comments, insight, and encouragement.
Portions of this paper were added or revised while under the support
of a National Science Foundation Graduate Research Fellowship. Any opinions,
findings, conclusions or recommendations expressed in this publication
are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of
the National Science Foundation. All errors are my own.
[1] Williams, Askwith Education
Forum, Harvard University, 16 February 2000.
[2] Theophus H. Smith, Conjuring
Culture: Biblical Formations of Black America (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1994), 4.
[3] Ibid., 4.
[4] Ibid., 3.
[5] Ibid., 4.
[6] Ibid., 147.
[7] Lucius T. Outlaw, "Language
and Consciousness: Towards a Hermeneutic of Black Culture," Cultural
Hermeneutics 1 (1974): 411, quoted in Smith, Conjuring Culture,
111.
[8] Peter Brunette, "The power
of the word: Saul Williams, poet and now star in 'Slam,' wants to cast
his spell," Boston Globe, 18 October 1998, sec. L, p. 9,
LEXIS-NEXIS Academic Universe
[9] Ibid., 9.
[10] Williams, Askwith Education
Forum
[11] Smith, Conjuring Culture,
57-8.
[12] Williams, Askwith Education
Forum.
[13] Biblical quotations marked NRSV
come from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible.
[14] Smith, Conjuring Culture,
164.
[15] Williams, Askwith Education
Forum. See also Evelyn Nieves, "SHOPPING WITH/Saul Williams:
Downtown to Stardom in One Leap," New York Times, 27 September
1998, sec. 9, p. 1, LEXIS-NEXIS Academic Universe, and Peter Brunette,
"The power of the word: Saul Williams, poet and now star in 'Slam,'
wants to cast his spell," Boston Globe, 18 October 1998,
sec. L, p. 9, LEXIS-NEXIS Academic Universe.
[16] Smith, Conjuring Culture,
238-44.
[17] Ibid., 129-30.
[18] Williams, "The Winds' Song",
The Seventh Octave, (New York: Moore Black Press, 1997), 11.
[19] James Cone, God of the Oppressed
(San Francisco: Harper Collins Press, 1975), 175.
[20] James Cone, The Spirituals
and the Blues (New York: Orbis Books, 1991), 103.
[21] Williams, "Luna See - Moon
Eye", The Seventh Octave, 21.
[22] Cheryl Townsend Gilkes, "'Mother
to the Motherless, Father to the Fatherless': Power, Gender, and Community
in an Afrocentric Biblical Tradition," Semeia 47 (1989): 72.
[23] Williams, "Our Father",
Amethyst Rock Star. Track 10. Universal Records. Audio CD. 2001.
[24] Gilkes, "'Mother to the Motherless,
Father to the Fatherless'", 73.
[25] Williams, Askwith Education
Forum.
[26] Williams, "Children of
the Night," The Seventh Octave, 25.
[27] Ibid., 24.
[28] Ibid., 23.
[29] Williams, "Amethyst Rocks",
The Seventh Octave, 41.
[30] "Sha Clack Clack"
- but my spirit is growing/ seven by seven (40) - and "Seven Mountains"
(45) are two examples found in Williams, The Seventh Octave.
[31] Williams, The Seventh Octave,
28.
[32] Octavius A. Gaba, "Symbols
of Revelation: The Darkness of the Hebrew Yahweh and the Light of the
Greek Logos" in The Recovery of Black Presence, eds. Randall
C. Bailey and Jacquelyn Grant (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995), 150.
[33] Ibid., 157-58.
