Issue 12
Holla Luja
By Molly SimmsPhotography By Samantha Casolari
Illustration By Alex Purdy
Rap videos are populated with gun-toting misogynists who stud their necks with ill-gotten diamonds and see violence as sport. But NYC minister Darren Ferguson saw past this. He uses the art of hip-hop to bring troubled kids to the Christian faith. After starting a youth ministry called F.L.A.Y.V.A., (Freedom, Love and Abundant Youth Victory Alliance) Ferguson met Kurtis Blow in 2004, and the two created the Hip-Hop Church. Based in Al Sharpton’s Harlem headquarters at the House of Justice, for the past three years they have delivered gospel messages with turntable backing tracks, and cleverly altered Tupac, Biggie and Snoop songs. Reverend Ferguson has seen firsthand that popular music can create a dialogue between the religious and secular worlds—through the power of G.O.D.
How did you start the Hip-Hop Church?
About seven years ago, I was working at a group home for boys, and I started seeing that they really weren’t that interested in church. I thought they needed something that really spoke their language, in a high-energy kind of environment. Initially, everybody looked at the Hip-hop Church as some kind of fad or phenomenon, but I don’t think it is. Some of these kids don’t remember when there was no rap music or hip-hop. It’s as much a part of their lives as Motown is a part of mine. We need to take hip-hop and rap and incorporate it into our worship, but I don’t think we co-opt the worship with the music. I think we bring the music to a new level with the worship.
Did you have reservations about using hip-hop to deliver the message?
I didn’t have any reservations about the music, I just had reservations about using the term hip-hop, because I know it conjures up a lot of negative images. One of the things Kurtis Blow focused me on is that there’s a difference between hip-hop culture and the hip-hop industry. Hip-hop culture is rapping, break-dancing, graffiti, etc. The hip-hop industry puts out artists that degrade women and stuff like that. We want nothing to do with the hip-hop industry, but we want everything to do with hip-hop culture.
What’s been the most surprising thing for you throughout this experience?
Many people really have a problem with rapping, and they say, “You’re bringing the world into the church.” But that’s not so. If we were dancing suggestively, and wearing grills, and had women doing the rump shaker dance, then yeah, you have a valid point. But we’re taking a genuine American art form and saying, “We want to use this to glorify God, and to make young people feel that they’re welcome.” I asked young people, “Why are there 1,500 people upstairs in regular worship, and 15 or 20 kids downstairs in junior church?” And they said, “Because nobody’s talking to me. Nobody’s saying anything that’s relevant to my situation.” What I do is I take the sermon and craft it around a catchphrase, or a popular song or a dance. And the message is the same, but all I’ve done is get everybody’s attention with the title. I preached a sermon this morning, titled “Who Let the Dogs Out?” And I didn’t modify anything specifically to young people, but using that title and talking about Snoop Dogg in the beginning, it gives them a cultural marker they can hang their hat on. And now you’ve got their attention.