In my judgement, most articulations of contemporary Black Theology, regardless of the theologian's birthplace, are typically reproductions of James Cone's Black Liberation Theology. This finding should not be a surprise considering Cone's polarizing influence worldwide. Erskine's latest work fits this general profile, but with some possible unacknowledged methodological tension, created by his emphasis on articulating a distinct Jamaican (Caribbean) Black theology, yet greatly influenced by Cone, other Black American theologians and the absence of colonial Caribbean Christian theological sources. Erskine often discusses aspects of African American Christianity, and Black Liberation Theology in the American context, when I assumed he would focus primarily on the distinct Caribbean religious testimonies from colonialism to the present. Erskine insists his current work attempts to ‘tease out the emergence and development of God-talk primarily in the Caribbean’ (xii). This current project is the extension of his previous work, Plantation Church: How African American Religion Was Born in Caribbean Slavery. These are crucial points to remember. Conian Black Theology was and forever will be an advanced Black Power Theology. Unfortunately, various contemporary Black scholars seem to selectively forget or minimize this influence upon Cone. I am not suggesting there does not exist a distinct Jamaican or Caribbean Black theology and contextualized Christianity(ies). Nor am I implying Erskine advocates Black Power as a sociopolitical philosophy. Rather, it is the nationalist overtones I sense in his work and whether Erskine adequately demonstrates his primary aims within this project. The overtones are an extension from Black Power functioning as a hermeneutic/methodology within Cone's theology. I must state my perspective stems from a non-Conian framework. I do not identify as a Conian Black Theologian. I identify as an Evangelical African American Christian, situated within a different sociopolitical tradition from Cone. Cone and I share the same evangelical faith in Christ, but not the same African American sociopolitical philosophy. This context is a secondary issue to remember regarding my interpretative biases. There are roughly three foci I found interesting regarding Erskine's project. He asserts, ‘that the Black religious experience emerged and unfolded in the Caribbean and South America and not in the United States of America’ (ix). For him, there is a strong ‘numerical advantage’ that allowed Black Caribbeans to preserve much of their traditional African heritage. Erskine refers to this factor as the ‘luxury of majority thinking’ (ix). Upon reading this statement, I assumed Erskine was cementing a cultural and sociopolitical foundation from which to demonstrate a nuanced Jamaican or Caribbean contextualized Black theology. I also wondered why there was a passive comparison between the diverse African American and Caribbean religious experience. I was left wondering: does a strong retention of traditional African cultural and religious beliefs define our ‘blackness’? Furthermore, do these retentions assume a certain level of racial and religious purity? Erskine's project, like other Black scholars outside of America, has an important aim that centres on identity and religious contextualism. Erskine's current research seeks to … press beyond the nation-state framework and raises intercultural and interregional questions with implications for gender, race, and class. This comparative analysis allows the rethinking of the language and grammar of how Black faith has been understood in the Americas and extends the notion of Black theology and Black faith beyond the United States of America. (ix) For Erskine, it is important to properly recognize and assess the quantitative and qualitative harmony between people, their beliefs and how both relate to their freedom to develop an authentic religious faith. All of which function harmoniously apart from the taint of foreign interference. For those who study contextual theology and global Christianity, it is understood that there are natural theologies within various Black communities worldwide. Some deeply evangelical as others are products of religious syncretism. My initial assumption and anticipation were that Erskine would introduce colonial Caribbean testimonies of Black Christianity to express the distinct features of Black faith in the Caribbean—especially since, as he asserts, they had the numerical advantage to retain their traditional cultural heritage over their family in the United States. However, the structure of Black Theology it is the transformation of society in keeping with a trinity of values: justice, hope, and love. (116–117) In Chapter 2, Erskine shifts to the theological categories of sin and reconciliation. He does so by returning to the voices and life of J. Deotis Roberts (1927–2022), Bob Marley and Rastafarianism. Marley and Rastafarianism become the grounding for aspects of Caribbean Black Liberation Theology. In this discussion, Erskine introduces the influential German Feminist theologian, Dorothy Solle (1929–2003). Solle and Roberts, for Erskine, ‘provide responses to Marley's “redemptive sons.” Both Marley and Solle contend that the place from which sin is recognized as sin must lie beyond sin; the pairing of sin and reconciliation gestures towards hope for liberation’ (x). Erskine appears to imply by this phrase, that sin can only be understood and overcome through a genuine understanding of God's grace, mercy and love. These aspects have influenced various secular works that have in turn impacted the world is positive ways. There is a discrepancy with Chapter 3, ‘Baptism and the Mystery of Faith’. Erskine mentions in his preface that the focus will be on the distorted efforts of colonial European missionaries to the Caribbean. Their inability to distinguish the essence of the Gospel from their Eurocentric cultural heritage, created devastating consequence upon Caribbean religious life. However, Chapter 3 discusses baptism and faith. This chapter complements the previous, by completing Erskine's turn to specific theological categories. He provides a lengthy discussion on the importance of these issues through the voices of R.G. Beasley-Murray (1916–2000), Karl Barth (1886–1968), John Calvin (1509–1564), Leander Keck (1928–2024) and James Cone. The chapter reads as an isolated work, as it deals with baptism and faith, without any concrete relation to Caribbean Black theology. The reader is, however, exposed to these individuals' different theological views. Chapter 4, ‘Salvation and Liberation’, reads as a transition chapter from systematic theology or orthodox Christian beliefs back to Erskine's initial discussion about Caribbean religiosity. The chapter appears to be what Chapter 3 was described to be in the preface. Erskine critiques the skewed theology of Eurocentric colonial missionaries and how their inability to distinguish the essence of the Gospel from their culture, and biases, ultimately distorted the indigenous cultures they evangelized. Erskine describes Caribbean colonial culture and Christianity in ways scholars have always depicted colonial African American culture and Christianity. For example, he states, ‘In the Caribbean we began to learn through reading the Bible for ourselves that salvation is about the whole person—body and soul, spiritual and material. Missionary theology often neglected the political and economic spheres as if the gospel of Christ had nothing to do with these areas of life’ (105). Yet Erskine somewhat passively implies these attributes and descriptions are not necessarily universal. Connected to this implication is his continuous mentioning, at least in subtle ways, of the need for a contextualized Caribbean theology to emerge apart from the influences of European and North American Christianity. The chapter concludes with a discussion between Cone and MLK, regarding their views on salvation and reconciliation. ‘Christology and Grace in Womanist Thinking’ is the subject of Chapter 5. Erskine examines the theologies of Kelly Brown Douglas (1957–), Jacquelyn Grant (1948–), Katie Cannon (1950–2018) and Delores Williamson (1934–2022), all of whom studied under Cone at Union Theological Seminary. This chapter, much like Chapter 3, reads like a stand-alone body of work as there is not a clear explanation as to how these theologians relate to Caribbean Womanism or feminist theology. We, as the readers, are given general overviews of these African American theologians' Christologies and conceptions of divine grace. Chapter 6, ‘Black Theology After James Cone’, also functions as a stand-alone work. Erskine spends the entire chapter critiquing aspects of Cone's theology. For Erskine, ‘Here we look at Cone's attempt to critically evaluate his iteration of Black theology by looking beyond the Black experience as it was understood in the US context as he turned to the Third World and placed his work in conversation with sisters and brothers outside of the US context’ (153). This claim is an interesting statement from Erskine, considering there is not a universal African American experience, and Cone was aware of this fact, as stated within his work. Erskine's interpretation of Cone is somewhat questionable, as he portrays Cone as not including Black people worldwide into his definition of Blackness. Reading through the chapter, I was left wondering if Erskine employed this view as a possible point of introducing his call for a unique Caribbean religio-nationalist identity, with complementary contextualized theologies. ‘Black Lives Matter’ is the subject of Chapter 7. Erskine begins the chapter with a historical account of colonial Black slaves from different nations, forging new identities together. Interestingly, this forging is the origin narrative of many Black people worldwide. Erskine employs a dialogue between Cone and MLK to reinforce the theological fact of the sanctity of Black life. Overall, Erskine has produced an interesting project, one that will likely encourage others to theorize, and map out a distinct Black Caribbean theology. I am left questioning whether Erskine has really satisfied what I believe he intended to accomplish: demonstrate the initial and progressive development of Black Caribbean theology. I recommend reading Erskine's work alongside Dwight N. Hopkins' Introducing Black Theology of Liberation (Hopkins 1999), Eddie S. Glaude Jr.'s African American Religion: A Very Short Introduction (Glaude 2014) and Frederick L. Ware's African American Theology: An Introduction (Ware 2016). Hopkins delivers an impressively concise overview of the development of Black Theology. He begins with colonial slavery to Black Womanist theology, and Black theology in America as it relates to Third World Liberation Theologies. Glaude Jr. takes a similar approach, as he briefly discusses African American religiosity from colonialism to the present. Ware delivers a valuable introduction that discuss the history, methodological development and theological subjects discussed within African American theology. Hopkins', Glaude Jr.'s, and Ware's works will help readers better assess Erskine's interpretation of Black theology and Black Faith.
Cory J. May (Fri,) studied this question.