Native Son - Richard Wright [127]
Again the preacher’s words seeped into his feelings:
“Son, yuh know whut tha’ tree wuz? It wuz the tree of knowledge. It wuzn’t enuff fer man t’ be like Gawd, he wanted t’ know why. ’N’ all Gawd wanted ’im t’ do wuz bloom like the flowers in the fiel’s, live as chillun. Man wanted t’ know why ’n’ he fell from light t’ darkness, from love t’ damnation, from blessedness t’ shame. ’N’ Gawd cast ’em outa the garden ’n’ tol’ the man he had t’ git his bread by the sweat of his brow ’n’ tol’ the woman she had t’ bring fo’th her chillun in pain ’n’ sorrow. The worl’ turned ergin ’em ’n’ they had t’ fight the worl’ fer life….”
…the man and the woman walked fearfully among trees their hands covering their nakedness and back of them high in the twilight against the clouds an angel waved a flaming sword driving them out of the garden into the wild night of cold wind and tears and pain and death and the man and woman took their food and burnt it to send smoke to the sky begging forgiveness….
“Son, fer thousan’s of years we been prayin’ for Gawd t’ take tha’ cuss off us. Gawd heard our prayers ’n’ said He’d show us a way back t’ ’Im. His Son Jesus came down t’ earth ’n’ put on human flesh ’n’ lived ’n’ died t’ show us the way. Jesus let men crucify ’Im; but His death wuz a victory. He showed us tha’ t’ live in this worl’ wuz t’ be crucified by it. This worl’ ain’ our home. Life ever’ day is a crucifixion. There ain’ but one way out, son, ’n’ tha’s Jesus’ way, the way of love ’n’ fergiveness. Be like Jesus. Don’t resist. Thank Gawd tha’ He done chose this way fer yuh t’ come t’ ’Im. It’s love tha’s gotta save yuh, son. Yuh gotta b’lieve tha’ Gawd gives eternal life th’u the love of Jesus. Son, look at me….”
Bigger’s black face rested in his hands and he did not move.
“Son, promise me yuh’ll stop hatin’ long enuff fer Gawd’s love t’ come inter yo’ heart.”
Bigger said nothing.
“Won’t yuh promise, son?”
Bigger covered his eyes with his hands.
“Jus’ say yuh’ll try, son.”
Bigger felt that if the preacher kept asking he would leap up and strike him. How could he believe in that which he had killed? He was guilty. The preacher rose, sighed, and drew from his pocket a small wooden cross with a chain upon it.
“Look, son. Ah’m holdin’ in mah hands a wooden cross taken from a tree. A tree is the worl’, son. ’N’ nailed t’ this tree is a sufferin’ man. Tha’s whut life is, son. Sufferin’. How kin yuh keep from b’lievin’ the word of Gawd when Ah’m holdin’ befo’ yo’ eyes the only thing tha’ gives a meanin’ t’ yo’ life? Here, lemme put it roun’ yo’ neck. When yuh git alone, look at this cross, son, ’n’ b’lieve….”
They were silent. The wooden cross hung next to the skin of Bigger’s chest. He was feeling the words of the preacher, feeling that life was flesh nailed to the world, a longing spirit imprisoned in the days of the earth.
He glanced up, hearing the doorknob turn. The door opened and Jan stood framed in it, hesitating. Bigger sprang to his feet, galvanized by fear. The preacher also stood, took a step backward, bowed, and said,
“Good mawnin’, suh.”
Bigger wondered what Jan could want of him now. Was he not caught and ready for trial? Would not Jan get his revenge? Bigger stiffened as Jan walked to the middle of the floor and stood facing him. Then it suddenly occurred to Bigger that he need not be standing, that he had no reason to fear bodily harm from Jan here in jail. He sat and bowed his head; the room was quiet, so quiet that Bigger heard the preacher and Jan breathing. The white man upon whom he had tried to blame his crime stood before him and he sat waiting to hear angry words. Well, why didn’t he speak? He lifted his eyes; Jan was looking straight at him and he looked away But Jan’s face was not angry. If he were not angry, then what did he want? He looked again and saw Jan’s lips move to speak, but no words came. And when Jan did speak his voice was low and there were long pauses between the words; it seemed to Bigger that he was listening to a man talk to himself.
“Bigger, maybe I haven’t the words to say what I want to say, but I