The Afro-Caribbean Religious Experience

The Afro-Caribbean Religious Experience by Rev. James Tino June 2007 Submitted in partial fulfullment of the requirements of the degree of Ph.D. (Missiology) at Concordia Theological Seminary, Ft. Wayne, Indiana.

1.0

Introduction

From their rather innocuous beginnings about five hundred years ago, Afro-Caribbean religions have become a major ‘player’ in the religious marketplace in the Western hemisphere and beyond.

Practitioners can be found from the southern tip of

Brazil to the northern coast of Venezuela; from the nations of the Caribbean to Miami, New York, Houston, and Los Angeles; from tiny Caribbean islands to the international cities of London, Amsterdam, and beyond. What is the nature of these religions?

What are the

beliefs and practices that unite or divide them? attraction to the general population?

What is their

These are the questions

that have guided this research.

2.0

Three Ingredients of Afro-Caribbean Religions

Under the umbrella of what we have termed the AfroCaribbean religions, there is a bewildering array of religious practices, some better-known than others: Santeria, Vodou, 1

Rastafarianism, Candomblé, Umbanda, Obeah, Myal, Quimbois, and more.

Each of these has its practitioners and its ‘holy men’,

its rites, symbols, ceremonies, and beliefs – some of them unique, and many held in common. During my research, I came to think of the Afro-Caribbean religions as the “product” of three primary ingredients: African religions introduced through slavery, indigenous religions, and Roman Catholicism.

As different chefs would combine the same

ingredients in different proportions in order to produce the recipe according to their liking, the ‘ingredients’ of AfroCaribbean religions have been mixed in different ways according to the circumstances and preferences of the people in each region.

In order to understand these religions, an

understanding of the three primary ingredients is in order. 2.1

African Religions Introduced Through Slavery

Slavery in the New World existed on two levels: 1) the importation of slave labor from Africa, and 2) the enslavement of the indigenous people by the Conquistadores.

For the

purposes of this study, it is the former which had a greater impact on the formation of Afro-Caribbean religiosity. As early as 1502, records indicate that the Spaniards began to bring slave labor to the New World, in order to perform the

2

tasks that the Spaniards were not willing to do themselves.1

One

author estimates that nearly five million slaves were brought to the Americas of a period of nearly 400 years, and at least half of them were destined for the sugar plantations of the Caribbean.2

Most of the slaves were brought from the eastern

part of West Africa.

“Of primary importance are the Yoruba of

present-day Nigeria, Togo, and Benin. ...After the Yoruba, the Ewe of Togo, Ghana, and Benin probably contributed most to the development of diaporan religions in Latin America.”3 The religion of the people of the west coast of Africa at the time of the Conquest was an animistic belief system. According to their beliefs, there exists a supreme God who lives in heaven, but who has withdrawn from his creation.

Lutheran

missiologist and historian Rudolph Blank classifies this concept of God as an expression of the belief in deus otiosus. According to this construct, God has distanced himself from His followers to such an extent that for them, He has become unreal and useless.4 The deus otiosus can only be approached through inferior deities, which are considered to be “roads” to God.5

1

Lesser

Gonzalez, Justo L., La Era de los Conquistadores, tomo 7, San José, Costa Rica: Editorial Caribe, 1980, p. 77 Olmos, Margarite Fernández and Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert, Creole Religions of the Caribbean: An Introduction from Vodou and Santeria to Obeah and Espiritismo, New York: University Press, 2003, p. 14. 3 Chesnut, R. Andrew, Competitive Spirits: Latin America’s New Religious Economy, Oxford: University Press, 2003, p. 103. 4 Blank, Rodolfo, Teología y Misión en América Latina, St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1996, p. 109 5 Pollak-Eltz, Angelina, Cultos Afroamericanos, Caracas: Universidad Católica Andrés Bello, 1977, p. 43 2

3

divinities are organized according to the powers they possess. Each divinity has its own group of devotees, headed by a ‘priest’ who has been initiated into the mysteries of the divinity and who knows the proper rituals.

Each divinity has

its own day for special veneration, complete with “its ritualistic colors, a predisposition for certain animal sacrifices, its special foods, its emblems, its invocations and prayer formulas, its dances and drum rhythms.”6 The Africans who were brought to the New World as slaves did not leave their religion behind.

Though often not allowed

to practice their religion openly, the slaves found a vehicle for religious expression in the Catholic confraternities. Confraternities were lay brotherhoods organized by the Roman Catholic clergy for the purpose of catequesis.

These lay-led

groups, with the stamp of Catholic approval, provided the ideal mechanism for the practice and preservation of African spirituality.

“Catholic confraternities, or lay brotherhoods

(organized along racial and ethnic lines, among other divisions, during the colonial period), ironically served as one of the main vehicles of the preservation of the African religion.”7 Over time, Catholic images and symbols – especially the saints – were invested with African meaning and essentially took 6

Pollak-Eltz, 1977, p. 48. Original text: “...sus colores ritualísticos, la predilección por ciertos animales de sacrificio, sus comidas especiales, sus emblemas, sus invocaciones y fórmulas de oración, sus bailes y ritmos de tambor.” 7 Chesnut, p. 104

4

on the attributes of the African orixas, or lesser divinities. One author claims that this process of syncretism was fueled by persecution: Persecution at the hands of the Iberian church and state led to a process of syncretism and symbiosis in which diasporan religions incorporated elements of Catholicism into their worship and symbology in order to camouflage their continuing devotion to African lwas and orixas. ...Over time, the Catholic symbols and rituals, which had initially only served to mask African religious practice, became incorporated into worship ceremonies, eventually forming and integral part of the diasporan faiths.8

2.2

Indigenous Religions

Numerous indigenous peoples or tribes have been identified as having lived throughout the regions where Afro-Caribbean religions have flourished.

For the purposes of this study, we

will look at two of the best-known tribes, the Arawak and the Caribe. 2.2.1

The Arawak

The Arawak seem to have been a peaceable people, dedicated to agriculture.

They appear to have followed an animistic

religious system, which embraced a pantheon of gods.9 supreme god, Yocahu, lived in heaven.

8

The

“He was indifferent to

Chesnut, p. 104 Deiros, Pablo Alberto, Historia del Cristianismo en América Latina, Buenos Aires: Fraternidad Teológica Latinoamericana, 1992, p. 44 9

5

humans, and therefore their prayers did not reach him.”10 Of the lesser gods, the zemi seem to have played a dominant role.

The zemi were carved figures which represented deceased

tribal chiefs.

Rather than having broad supernatural powers,

each zemi seemed to ‘specialize’ in a certain area – some had influence over the future, others over the harvest or the weather; some produced riches, while others helped women in labor.11 The Arawak appealed to the zemi both on a personal and a communal level. Each zemi was placed in a niche or on the table…. It was believed that if one did not provide him food, the owner (of the zemi) could become ill…. In the same way, public ceremonies were celebrated in honor of the zemis of the tribal chief, so that these would bring prosperity to the village.12 These two main features of Arawak religiosity bear a striking resemblance to some of the key concepts of AfroCaribbean religions. The concept of a distant God is certainly shared by both the Arawak and Afro-Caribbean religiosity, and is in fact manifested in nearly every form of Latin American popular religion, or Christopaganism.

Likewise, the similarity of the

10

Deiros, p. 45. Original text: “(Yocahu) era indiferente a los hombres, por lo cual las plegarias de éstos no lo alcanzaban.” 11 Deiros, p. 45 12 Deiros, p. 45. Original text: “Cada zemi era colocado en un nicho o sobre una mesa.... Se creía que si no se le proveía de comida, su dueño podía enfermarse.... Del mismo modo, se realizaban ceremonias públicas a favor de los zemis del cacique, a fin de que éstos trajesen prosperidad a la villa.”

6

role of the zemi in the lives of the Arawak, and the role of the saints/orishas in the Afro-Caribbean religions is certainly striking.

At the very least, one could conclude that the Arawak

who came under the influence of Christianity would very quickly make a connection between Yocahu and God the Father, and between the zemi and the Christian saints. 2.2.2

The Caribe

The Caribe were a warring and nomadic tribe, and thus have left behind few traces.

They spread throughout northern South

America and the Caribbean islands.13 The Caribe believed in a superior power without a name, which lived in the heavens and was incapable of doing harm. They considered the earth to be an indulgent ‘mother’, who provided all that is necessary for life.

They believed that

evil was caused by bad spirits of the dead, and that these spirits could be controlled by shamans.14 Again, we see the similar elements of the belief in a distant/impotent God combined with a hierarchy of lesser powers which can be approached or accessed by humans. Interestingly, Caribe artifacts have preserved a belief which could be considered as a ‘Gospel bridge’. The Caribes also believed that their forefathers had emerged from the navel of a man named Louquo, who had 13 14

Deiros, p. 46 Deiros, p. 47

7

descended from heaven. This celestial being brought the mandioca (yucca), and had taught them to cultivate it and how to prepare food with it. He also explained to them how to build houses. Three days after his death, Louquo returned to heaven.15 I did not come across any evidence that the Caribe legend of Louquo was ever effectively used as a Gospel bridge by Christian missionaries.

It could be surmised, however, that the

similarity of Louquo to Jesus would provide the Catholic missionaries with an entrance point into the Caribe society and territory, thereby establishing a foothold for later mission efforts. Another provocative detail is that in Cuba, the slaves who were from the Yoruba people (Nigeria) and were practitioners of the Yoruba beliefs were known as Lucumí.16

Could it be that the

religious practices of the Yoruba slaves in Cuba were similar to the practices of the followers of the Caribbean divinity Louquo?

2.3

Roman Catholicism under the Conquistadores

The Spanish conquest of the Americas is a significant contributor to the development of Afro-Caribbean religiosity. The “discovery” and subsequent colonization of the Americas is

15

Rouse, “The Arawak”, p. 564, cited in Deiros, p. 47 Original text: “Los caribes creían también que sus antepasados habían emergido del ombligo de un hombre llamado “Louquo”, que había descendido del cielo. Este ser celestial había traído la mandioca y les había enseñado a cultivarla y preparar comidas con ella. También les explicó cómo construir casas. Tres días después de su muerte, Louquo regresó al cielo.” 16 González-Wippler, Migene. Santería: The Religion. A Legacy of Faith, Rites, and Magic. New York: Harmony Books, 1989, pp. 3-4.

8

best understood against the backdrop of the Crusades in Europe. The first Crusades helped to revive a flagging Church, but the failures of the last Crusades demoralized and decapitalized the Roman Catholic hierarchy.

Christopher Columbus was sent out

with the hope that he would discover an eastern route to India and thus a way to renew the Crusades against the Muslim infidels – and also new wealth to replenish the coffers of the Church. Columbus himself viewed his voyages of discovery in an evangelistic light.

“Columbus left imbued with a prophetic and

missionary spirit which hoped for the rapid establishment of the Kingdom of Christ on earth.

He wanted to find riches in order

to contribute to the financing of a great Crusade against the infidels, in order to free Jerusalem and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.”17 Indeed, when Columbus arrived in the Caribbean islands, he thought that he had discovered the eastern route to India, and thus named the area, “the Indies”.

To this day,

correspondence to the region is postmarked, “West Indies”. Columbus’ motives of mission and money were the twin engines which drove the entire Spanish conquest.

“There was the

need to save the souls of the barbarians – the Spaniards said – there was also the need to accumulate fortunes.”18

17

Aside from

Blank, p. 8. Original text: “Colón salió imbuido de un espíritu profético y misionero que esperaba el pronto establecimiento del Reino de Cristo en la tierra. El deseaba encontrar riquezas para contribuir a financiar una gran cruzada en contra de los infieles a fin de liberar a Jerualén y a la Iglesia del Santo Sepulcro.” 18 Nevares, Salvador Reyes, Historia de las Ideas Colonialistas, México: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1975, p. 45. Original text: “Había que salvar las almas de los bárbaros - se decían los españoles – también había que acumular

9

geography, the ease with which fortunes could be amassed was the deciding factor in determining the location and interest in the early Spanish colonies. A number of important decisions were made in Europe which had an important impact on the way in which the Christian faith was introduced in the Caribbean.

The first of these were issued

by pope Alexander VI in 1493, in his bull Inter caetera.

In

this bull, the pope delegated to the Spanish king all temporal and spiritual authority over their colonies.19

In effect, this

decision made the Church in the New World subject to the Spanish king, whose decisions were often dictated by economic and logistical factors, rather than by theological or evangelistic considerations. The second decision was also by pope Alexander VI, in his papal bull Eximia Devotionis issued in the year 1501.

In this

bull, the pope designated the tithes from the Indians to the Spanish kings as their perpetual right, as compensation for the expenses of the Conquest.

For their part, the Spanish kings

promised to build and equip churches for the people in each new area that they occupied.20

This decision provided a significant

incentive to the Conquistadores to ensure that their colonies were financially profitable.

It also guaranteed the

fortunas.” 19 Deiros, p. 302 20 Mackay, Juan A., El Otro Cristo Español, México: Casa Unida de Publicaciones, 1988, p. 67

10

construction of numerous churches, many of which stand today in small costal villages as monuments to the past. The third decision which would have an impact on the way in which Christianity was introduced to the region was made by King Charles I.

In order to exercise the temporal and spiritual

authority vested by the pope, in 1524 King Charles I formed the Council for the Indies.

The headquarters for the Council was

located in Madrid, and it lasted as the highest authority in the Americas until 1717.

The Council was headed by a bishop who was

appointed by the king and confirmed by the pope, and was vested with broad authority, including all legislative, executive, judicial, and ecclesiastical powers.21 With the formation of the Council, decisions which could have a dramatic effect on the outcome of the work of the Church and her missionaries were removed from the “field of action”, and were placed in the hands of people who, for the most part, had never even visited the lands that they were governing. Decisions of the Council were often the victim of outside influences and political favoritism, and were scarcely timely due to the slowness of communication over great distances. Roman Catholic historian and missiologist Adrián Peña describes the Council in these terms: “It is depicted in history as a bureaucratic organism, slow to make decisions and open to the 21

Deiros, pp. 320 - 322

11

influence of the favored, the powerful, and the courtesans of the moment.”22 In one of its earlier decisions, the Council limited “apostolic activity” in the Americas to four orders.

Perhaps

the intention of the decision was to limit the rivalry between the different Roman Catholic orders, but by limiting evangelistic activity to four orders, the Council effectively assured that the manpower available would be insufficient for the task of the evangelization of the Americas.23

As a result,

the practice of Christianity was often very superficial, limited to the construction of churches and the recitation of masses by visiting clerics.

The investment of meaning into these rituals

was left to the creativity of the common people.

3.0

The Afro-Caribbean Religions

As mentioned previously, there are a plethora of AfroCaribbean religious ‘brands’.

Most of them can be classified

under the broad umbrella of santería.

Closely related, yet with

some distinctive features, is the practice of Haitian vodou.

It

is to these two main branches of Afro-Caribbean religion that we now turn.

22

Peña, Adrián Setién, Los Pioneros de Nuestra Fe: Primera Evangelización en el Interior de Venezuela, Caracas: Ediciones Paulinas, 1985, p. 25. Original text: “Se proyecta en la historia como un organismo burocrático, lento para decidir y permeable a la influencia de favoritos, poderosos y cortesanos de turno.” 23 Peña, pp. 25 - 26

12

3.1

Vodou

The practice of vodou is part and parcel of life in Haiti. “Vodoun has shaped and continues to shape the culture of Haiti to such an extent that some equate Vodoun with Haitian culture.”24

It is the folk religion – the religion of the people

– the place where people go to find direction, help, solace, strength, and even revenge.

While some would say that Haiti has

given shape to vodou, others argue that vodou has given shape to Haiti. “(I)t is difficult to underestimate the influence of Vodoun on Haitian culture in the countryside and in the cities, in the lower strata as well as in the dominant classes, among Roman Catholics and Protestants.”25 Vodou is a manipulative religion, in the sense that the spiritual powers can be induced to act on behalf of the supplicants.

The spiritual powers, called lwa, are responsive

to the acts of devotion, or “service”, performed by the supplicants: “The lwa offer help, protection, and counsel; their devotees offer ritual sacrifice in return, which includes a variety of individual and communal rites.”26

These acts of

service often take the form of sacrifices of food, drink, or even animals.

Food and drink libations can be offered as a part

of the devotees’ daily routine or in ritual ceremonies, while 24

Clérismé, Rénald, “Vodoun, Peasant Songs, and Political Organizing”, Haitian Vodou: Spirit, Myth, and Reality, Patrick Bellegarde-Smith and Claudine Michel, eds., Indiana University Press: Indianapolis, 2006, p. 58. 25 Clérismé, p. 59. 26 Olmos, p. 102.

13

animal sacrifices are nearly always offered in the context of the ceremonies only.27 While vodou claims to recognize a supreme deity (and therefore is “monotheistic”),28 the central actors are the lesser spiritual beings.

“Its liturgy and rituals revolve around a

pantheon of spirits known as loa or lwa who represent a fusion of African and Creole gods, the spirits of deified ancestors, and syncretized manifestations of Catholic saints.”29 Photographer and author Phyllis Galembo offers this interesting observation in her photo journal on Haitian vodou: “In Haiti, I recognized many of the Nigerian orisa that I’d seen in Nigeria, Brazil, and Cuba: Esu, the trickster messenger deity in Nigeria, is Exu in Brazil and Papa Legba in Haiti. Oxum, Brazil’s vain and coquettish deity of fresh water, resembles Ezili, the Haitian goddess of love, who covets gifts of perfume and candy from her devotees. Ogun, the Edo deity of war and iron, aids taxi drivers in Nigeria. In Haiti he becomes Ogou, the warrior spirit of justice, and appears in the guise of the Catholic Saint James.”30 In Galembo’s observations, we can see the broad influence of African religiosity throughout the Caribbean region, and we catch a glimpse of how African deities have been localized and have subsumed the identities of Catholic saints. The central feature of vodou ceremonies is when the lwa possesses the “priest” or ceremony leader, and then communicates

27 28 29 30

Olmos, pp. 125 – 126. Olmos p. 105. Olmos p. 102. Galembo, Phyllis, Vodou: Visions and Voices of Haiti, Ten Speed Press: Berkeley, CA, 1998, p. ix.

14

with the people present.

“The lwa communicate with individuals

and the congregation through spirit possession, a trancelike state in which the devotee is ‘mounted’ by the spirit and becomes the lwa’s vehicle.”31

The terminology of spirit

‘possession’ is not used by vodou practitioners – the lwa are said to mount the human ‘vehicle’, as a person would mount a horse.

The people who are thus ‘mounted’ are, in fact, referred

to as “horses”. Most vodou ceremonies in Haiti today follow one of two major rites, the Rada rite and the Petwo rite. The primary difference between the two rites is the character of the lwa: the Rada lwa are perceived as “sweet”, and represent foundational concepts such as justice, spiritual balance, and community.

The Petwo lwa are perceived as “bitter”, engaging in

violent behavior.32 Within each of the rites, there are a bewildering variety of lwas, each of whom has certain identifiable characteristics, preferences, and personality.

The vodou priest identifies with

a particular lwa, and will have what can best be described as a costume consisting of articles that are known to represent the preferences of the lwa.

When performing the vodou ceremony, the

priest will dress in the articles of the lwa and perform certain

31 32

Olmos, p. 103. Galembo, p. xx.

15

songs, dances, and/or libations and sacrifices until the ‘horse’ is ‘mounted’.

The lwa then animates the horse, and responds to

the needs and inquiries of the people. As an example, consider the following description of a photo of a vodou priestess who serves Ezili, the lwa who represents love and romance. priestess from Jacmel.

Ezili is served by Esperancia, a

Esperancia is Ezili’s horse.

Ezili, who loves luxury, is represented here not only by the perfumes on Esperancia’s altar but by the Catholic chromolithograph of the Virgin Mary, bedecked with jewels, the largest chromolithograph above the altar table.33 Ezili Freda is considered to be a gentle, seductive lwa in the Rada tradition of vodou. Her colors are pink and white, just like Esperancia’s bedspread. Her favorite foods, served in her honor, are light in color and usually sweet. They frequently include rice cooked in cinnamon milk or bananas fried in sugar. She likes sweet drinks made with orange syrup or grenadine. If she smokes, her cigarettes are mild, like Virginia Slims. Her favorite perfume is Anais-Anais by Cacherel, the label of which is pink and white on a white bottle.34 Devotees of Ezili would adopt Ezili’s preferences as their own preferences.

In their daily routine, when eating a food or

drinking a drink preferred by Ezili, a little would be poured on the ground as a libation offering.

By acknowledging and

adopting Ezili’s preferences, devotees “serve” their lwa and accrue favor.

33

author’s note: The other chromolithographs visible in the photo are of Jesus; the Madonna; and various Biblical scenes, including one of the Garden of Eden. 34 Galembo, pp. 6 – 8.

16

3.2

Santeria

Santeria is a term that embraces a broad spectrum of AfroCaribbean religious practices.

The primary influences are the

magic rites of the Yoruba (West Africa) slaves and the traditions of the Catholic church.35

“Santeria is a typical case

of syncretism. ...This syncretism can be appreciated in that fact that all of the Yoruba deities worshipped in Santeria have been identified with Catholic saints.”36 According to my research, the practices of spiritistic religions such as Candomblé, Umbanda, Obeah, Regla de Ocho, and Quimbois are very similar.

The names of the orishas (Brazil:

orixas) or spiritual powers are very similar, and though details of the initiation rites or methods of divination may vary, the primary characteristics are essentially the same. Similar to vodou, santeria is considered a monotheistic religion because its practitioners believe in one supreme divine force or god, sometimes called Oloddumare.

As in vodou, this

divine being is largely distant and uninvolved with the lives of people.

The primary actors in santeria are the orishas.

Santeria believes that every person’s life is overseen by an orisha, whether the person knows it or not.

35 36

Gonzalez-Wippler, p. 3. Gonzalez-Wippler, p. 3.

17

Thus, one of the

first things that a new santeria practitioner must do is to determine his or her personal orisha.37 Once known, one’s orisha is able to grant favors and help to the petitioner, as well as bring trouble or vengeance on a petitioner’s enemy.

Also, if the petitioner has acted in a way

that is displeasing to the orisha, the orisha may cause trouble for the petitioner until the situation is rectified. The will of the orishas is determined by santeros and babalawos (santeria high priests) utilizing various divination systems.38

As a part of the divination rite, offerings and/or

sacrifices are given to the orisha in order to boost the energy level of the orisha.

“Whatever is offered to an orisha is

transformed by that deity into pure energy – ashé – which is then used by him or her to carry out the needs of the supplicant.”39 The santeros or priests then perform the divination ceremony to determine the will of the orisha.

Seashells,

stones, coffee grounds, coconuts, and other objects may be used. The priest is skilled in “reading” the objects and provides the interpretation to the supplicant. In addition to divination, santeros are skilled herbalists and are able to prescribe homeopathic remedies for an assortment 37 38 39

Gonzalez-Wippler, p. 13. Gonzalez-Wippler, p. 17. Gonzalez-Wippler, p. 20.

18

of illnesses.

The plants, herbs, and other natural products are

also used in casting spells.

The ceiba tree and the palm tree

seem to be especially prized for their strong magic.

Consider

these six uses of the ceiba: (1) the tree trunk is used to cast evil spells; (2) the bark is used for teas and other medicinal purposes; (3) the shade of the tree attracts the spirits and gives its supernatural strength to all the spells buried beneath it; (4) the roots are used to place the offerings to the ceiba and to receive the blood of sacrificial animals; (5) the earth around the tree is often used in black magic; and (6) the leaves of the tree are used for medicinal purposes, to cast love spells, and to prepare the omiero used during the asiento.40 Santeros gain power and knowledge by passing through a succession of initiation rites.

Each rite has an elaborate

ceremony, some lasting for weeks, during which the initiate is carefully prepared.

The ceremonies are progressive, and include

ritual cleansings and animal sacrifices. Initiation rites are often prescribed by santeros as the remedy for a problem that a supplicant has been unable to resolve in other ways.

Initiation rites are intricate and

lengthy, and are difficult to describe.

Some excerpts from the

first-hand testimony of a person who went through a santeria initiation provides a pretty clear picture of what is involved. The subject in this case study is Patri Dhaifa. initiated in New York city in 1979. 40

Gonzalez-Wippler, p. 135

19

She was

Her “problem” was that she

had suffered a severe spinal injury two years prior, which had left her nearly paralyzed.

As a result of her initiation, her

back was totally healed, “to the amazement of all my doctors”.41 Here is a portion of Patri’s testimony: Throughout the initiation week I wore a sheet wrapped around my body and tied over my left shoulder. Over this I wore a massive necklace of brown and green beads... A string of brown and green beads was tied around my head, with a red parrot feather attached on the center of my forehead. There were continuous sacrifices the entire week, starting with a male goat... On the fifth day, we made a major ebbó or offering called Itán, in which one fills twenty-one small gourds with pounded yams and other ingredients. ...On the same day, the parrot feather was removed from my head and pulverized... This powder was mixed with... a yellowish powder... made from... palm nut. The combined powders were then rubbed into sixteen incisions that were cut on top of my shaven head. One of the most interesting parts of the initiation was the offer to the ajé – the witches – which I had to bring in the dead of night to a public place. The offering was placed inside a small gourd that was left on the street.42 As one reads testimonies like Patri’s, the dark character of santeria becomes evident.

Initiates voluntarily open

themselves up to the direction of, and the possession by the orishas.

Dire threats and warnings – along with gruesome tales

of horrible deaths – are leveraged to make sure that initiates do not reveal the secrets of santeria.

41 42

Gonzalez-Wippler, p. 112. Gonzalez-Wippler, pp. 118-119.

20

The central moment of the initiation comes when the initiate is possessed by the orisha.

Following is an account of

the moment when an initiate named Laura was possessed: As the chanting continued, Laura seemed to lose her last vestiges of consciousness. She felt herself falling forward and knew no more. Later her madrina told her that she had stood up from the apotí and walked around the igbodu, completely possessed by Obatalá... With a razor blade, eight cuts were made on Laura’s tongue to ensure that her orisha would have the gift of speech. Eight cuts were made because that is Obatalá’s number. At this point, Obatalá smiled and saluted all those present, thanking them for all their devotion and hard work. ...When the orisha finally left and Laura opened her eyes, she could not remember anything of what had transpired. ...(T)he last part of the ceremony, the sacrifice of the animals sacred to the orisha, then took place.43 Following the initiation, the initiates either become santeros or, if they already were santeros, they move higher up in the hierarchy of the santeria priesthood.

Thus, initiation

becomes a sort of apprenticeship in which the secrets of santeria are passed on and perpetuated.

4.0

Reflection and Conclusion

While religious insiders tend to emphasize the ways in which their religion is different from others, outside observers tend to focus on the common elements found in similar religious systems.

R. Andrew Chesnut points out the similarities in the

Afro-Caribbean religions: “Origins in West and Central Africa, 43

Gonzalez-Wippler, pp. 182-183.

21

spirit possession, polytheism, animal sacrifice, syncretism with Catholicism, and a history of slavery and racism stand out as the salient elements that unite Candomblé, Santeria, Umbanda, Vodou, and other smaller regional groups in doctrine and worship.”44 Interestingly, in the above quote, Chesnut identifies santeria and vodou as polytheistic religions, while sources quoted earlier in this paper claimed santeria and vodou to be monotheistic religions.

(To be sure, Chesnut also labels the

popular Latin American practice of Catholicism as polytheistic). I would tend to agree with Chesnut on this point.

Monotheism to

me includes the idea of worshipping only one God.

In vodou and

santeria, belief in a supreme divinity may be claimed, but that divinity is not worshipped.

In each system, many lesser

divinities are worshipped through acts of devotion, sacrifice, and service. It appears to me that the power and attraction of santeria (in its various forms) and vodou lies in the immediacy and accessibility of solutions to the problems that afflict humanity in general, and the poor in particular.

The poor are in a

relatively weak position in relation to their environment, inasmuch as they do not have broad access to money, power, or

44

Chesnut, p. 102.

22

prestige – the things that are typically utilized to resolve “problems”. Accordingly, a profile of the typical follower of AfroCaribbean religion would be a “poor, married woman of color in her thirties or forties and living on the urban margins.”45 While people many be motivated to seek the assistance of the spirits through Afro-Caribbean religions for many reasons, my own experience indicates that the primary reason is to seek physical or mental healing.

Chesnut’s research bears this out:

“(m)ore than any other product, cura is what first attracts spiritual consumers to Santeria and Umbanda and the others and what most keeps them coming back.”46 Chesnut’s description of a typical consulta (appointment) of an Umbanda petitioner is illustrative: Having failed to resolve her problem through secular channels (home remedies, pharmaceuticals, and physicians) or other religions, an afflicted individual will attend an Umbanda session with the specific purpose of consulting with the guias via a medium. ...(T)he client proceeds to meet face to face with the medium and recounts the problem to the guia that has possessed the medium. The guia then diagnoses the affliction and prescribes a course of treatment. More often than not, the problem is diagnosed as spiritual and thus calls for remedies of the spirits, such as herbal baths and incenses, offerings of food and drink to a particular guia, or even the development of one’s potential as an Umbanda medium.47 45 46 47

Chesnut, p. 108. Chesnut, p. 112. Chesnut, p. 114.

23

The above description illustrates the central role of spirit possession in Afro-Caribbean religions.

More than

anything else, this is the common thread that unites the various religious expressions.

“Perhaps no single practice unites all

African-derived faiths as much as the ritual possession of human mediums (called “horses” in the diasporan idiom) by the orixas, lwas, and guias.”48 For the Christian, this is one of the most disturbing features of the Afro-Caribbean religions.

The voluntary

surrendering of your will to demonic spirits (whether they be called orixas, lwas, or guias) is, in essence, Satan worship. It is troubling that the socio-economic afflictions of the people weigh so heavily on the population that demonic solutions seem attractive in comparison. Certainly, many people turn to Afro-Caribbean religions for pragmatic reasons.

Undoubtedly, many consider themselves to be

faithful Roman Catholics, and see no incongruity between Catholicism and santeria or vodou.

What this illustrates to me

is the urgent need for the Christian church to offer a pragmatic spirituality.

All too often, we deal with the ontological

questions of life, while the people we serve are looking for answers to some very practical concerns.

In order to be

relevant for them, the Church must find ways to address these 48

Chesnut, p. 105.

24

practical issues from a Christocentric, spiritual perspective. As numerous researchers have pointed out, this is precisely the attractive feature of Latin American Pentecostalism. Chesnut affirms that “...Charismatic Protestantism and Africanderived groups have competed for religious consumers among the same population.”49 It seems to me that the success of Pentecostalism in addressing the pragmatic concerns of the “religious consumers” may be largely due to the ‘grass roots’ nature of the Pentecostal movement.

Pentecostal leaders often are people who

have risen up through the ranks of their congregation or neighborhood, rather than being church leaders who have been professionally trained in religious institutions.

It seems to

me that the professionalization of the clergy, whether that be in Latin America or in the United States of America, has contributed to the ‘disconnect’ between pastor and laity. A solution to the conundrum is beyond the scope of this paper.

At the very least, the pastors and leaders of the Church

need to be intentional about listening to their people (parish and community) in order to understand their real problems and needs.

Turning then to the Word of God, the Spirit can direct

us to finding practical answers which demonstrate how God meets us in our daily lives. 49

Chesnut, p. 106.

25

Bibliography

Ayerra, Jacinto, Los Protestantes en Venezuela, Caracas: Ediciones Tripode, 1980. Bellegarde-Smith, Patrick and Claudine Michel, eds., Haitian Vodou: Spirit, Myth, and Reality, Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 2006. Blank, Rodolfo, Teología y Misión en América Latina, St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1996. Carías, Rafael, ¿Quiénes Somos los Venezolanos?, Los Teques, Venezuela: Editorial ISSFE, 1982. Chesnut, R. Andrew, Competitive Spirits: Latin America’s New Religious Economy, Oxford: University Press, 2003, p. 103. Deiros, Pablo Alberto, Historia del Cristianismo en América Latina, Buenos Aires: Fraternidad Teológica Latinoamericana, 1992. Galembo, Phyllis, Vodou: Visions and Voices of Haiti, Berkeley, CA: Ten Speed Press, 1998, p. ix. Gonzalez, Justo L., La Era de los Conquistadores, tomo 7, San José, Costa Rica: Editorial Caribe, 1980. González-Wippler, Migene, Santería: The Religion. A Legacy of Faith, Rites, and Magic, New York: Harmony Books, 1989, pp. 3-4. Mackay, Juan A., El Otro Cristo Español, México: Casa Unida de Publicaciones, 1988. Matibag, Eugenio, Afro-Caribbean Religious Experience: Cultural Reflections in Narrative, Jacksonville, FL: University Press of Florida, 1996. Nevares, Salvador Reyes, Historia de las Ideas Colonialistas, México: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1975. Nida, Eugene A., Understanding Latin Americans, Pasadena, CA.: William Carey Library, 1974.

26

Olmos, Margarite Fernández and Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert, Creole Religions of the Caribbean: An Introduction from Vodou and Santeria to Obeah and Espiritismo, New York: University Press, 2003, p. 14. Peña, Adrián Setién, Los Pioneros de Nuestra Fe: Primera Evangelización en el Interior de Venezuela, Caracas: Ediciones Paulinas, 1985. Pollak-Eltz, Angelina, La Religiosidad Popular en Venezuela, Caracas: San Pablo, 1994. Pollak-Eltz, Angelina, Cultos Afroamericanos, Caracas: Universidad Católica Andrés Bello, 1977. Smith, Christian and Joshua Prokopy, eds., Latin American Religion in Motion, New York: Routledge Press, 1999. Van Rheenen, Gailyn, Communicating Christ in Animistic Contexts, Pasadena, CA.: William Carey Library, 1991.

27