Feasting at the AAR
by Karen Johnson
Conferences are like church potluck Thanksgiving dinners. More specifically, dinners like those at a multiracial/multicultural church when participants bring food from their respective backgrounds. I feasted at the AAR this weekend. I went to some panels that were standard fare for me, which were like the traditional turkey, gravy, and cranberry mold. I went to others that were more like steamed bok choi or collard greens with bacon bits, dabbling in things I was less familiar with. Before my body is overwhelmed from a tryptophan-induced nap, I wanted to draw out some of the more tasty themes relevant to religion in American history.
Conferences are like church potluck Thanksgiving dinners. More specifically, dinners like those at a multiracial/multicultural church when participants bring food from their respective backgrounds. I feasted at the AAR this weekend. I went to some panels that were standard fare for me, which were like the traditional turkey, gravy, and cranberry mold. I went to others that were more like steamed bok choi or collard greens with bacon bits, dabbling in things I was less familiar with. Before my body is overwhelmed from a tryptophan-induced nap, I wanted to draw out some of the more tasty themes relevant to religion in American history.
First, I was struck by how varied church leadership
strategies across denominations, time and space lead to such different outcomes. The last panel I went to dealt with the
tension between the leadership and the laity in 20th-century
mainline churches. Aaron Sizer explored the
conflict between Presbyterian denominational leadership and individual churches
and organizations as the denominations tried to create a tightly-run
organizational structure worthy of the glories of Protestant America. Elesha
Coffman considered the battle between ministers and the laity in the Christian Century (which, by the way
only had a maximum circulation of 35,000!) when the esteemed magazine tried to
recruit intransigent lay members. Curtis
Evans detailed the resistance the FCC faced from local congregations as it
tried to promote anti-lynching laws. In
each situation, organizational bodies tried to reign in the masses.
This strategy of spreading the Christian message was quite
different from two other cases I encountered at the vast feast of the AAR in a
panel on Global Pentecostalisms. Pentecostalism
has spread globally through dispersed leadership, without much organizational structure. Lydia Marie Reynolds described the freedom
Christianity brought to a contemporary Sikkimese hill tribe, as converts no
longer worshipped a dragon god that terrorized them and instead depended on the
blood of Jesus to protect them. The tribe
adapted Christianity to their needs in ways that would support Lamin Sanneh’s
and Andrew Walls’s arguments that Christianity can be liberating for indigenous
cultures and not a tool of colonial oppression.
Surprisingly, the hill tribe Christians are part of the U.S.-originated
Vineyard Movement.
The second theme that I found particularly tasty is the
question of children’s religious experiences, and their effects on the broader
culture. For me, this raises the
question of who we – and our subjects – think are important, and how faith
traditions change as they are passed from one generation to the next. What is lost in the passing? What is gained? We are currently in the midst of a
generational handoff where today’s
millenials are more interested in their private spirituality and participate
less and less in organized religion. I
presented on a panel that was part of the Childhood Studies and Religion Group
and my co-panelists raised some provocative questions for me. Using marriage as the boundary line between
childhood and adulthood for young Mormon women, Natalie Rose considered how
Mormon girls used their journals to construct themselves as Mormons at the turn
of the twentieth century. This made me consider
how faiths constitute the religious markers between childhood and adulthood,
and how those markers shape the faith. Rebecca
Koerselman considered how evangelical camps tried to pass on notions of
Christian manhood and Christian womanhood in the mid-twentieth century through summer
camps. It turns out that they groomed
girls for spiritual leadership (although not senior pastors), while boys’ camp
experience included little that was explicitly religious, which is surprising
since these young boys would grow up to be senior pastors. I was shocked by the lack of God-talk for the
boys, and made me wonder why that was, given how important it was (I assume) for male pastors to be able to cultivate devotional habits and use a religious vocabulary.
My final theme is race.
At the AAR, one can sample delectable foods from fields outside one’s
own, and I thoroughly enjoyed a panel on race, ethnicity, immigration and
religion given by sociologists and a religious studies scholar. R. Stephen Warner argued that, in the
twentieth century, religion continues to be the most acceptable form of
difference for different groups, and it can function as a refuge for cultural
particularity. Michael Emerson is taking
his research in a more nuanced direction, considering the role that the shade of
one’s skin has on a person’s church attendance.
He suggested that history (!) has a lot to do with what he found: that
if a black person can pass, he or she is less likely to go to church than a
darker African American because light-skinned people have had more access to
the goods of the American way; darker-skinned Asian’s have higher rates of
church attendance than lighter-skinned ones; and Hispanic worship patterns
don’t change based on skin color because of the Mestizo myth. Kathleen Garces-Foley, who works on mainline
churches and race, suggested that mainline churches are inconsistent and
unfocused in their approaches to race, as they try to address developing
multicultural churches, ending racism, and growing ethnic ministries. Amazingly, some mainline denominations have
recently moved to combine racial ministries with women’s ministries. Does this mean that the denominations view
women and minorities as “others” who need special ministries? This seems odd, given the large number of
women who participate in churches (and Ann Braude’s argument that women’s
history is religious history).
Finally, Samuel Perry
explored the ways that religious participation affects interracial dating. He used the concept of “embeddedness,” or how
connected a person is to a particular social group, to explain why people who
attend religious services have lower rates of interracial dating. Apparently some sociologists will argue that
religion can make people intolerant. But
Perry finds that the more often a person reads his or her Bible or prays, the
more likely that person is to have dated interracially. Why? Since
many churches are built on the homophily principle (despite the efforts of
Garces-Foley’s mainline denominations to integrate), if a person’s
relationships are embedded at church, he or she won’t date outside the church
group (or date people who would not fit in that church group).
As you can see, it was a feast. But I’ve done enough thinking about
that. Now to my post-AAR nap!
Comments
thanks for this nice write-up. It was good to meet you and talk at length after my panel. I'm not quite comfortable with the language that these various organizations were trying to "reign in the masses." What I'm trying to do with my work on the FCC is point out that historians have to historicize in concrete social and cultural contexts who the masses or "folk" were rather than romanticize them as intrinsic carriers of rich traditions and cultural practices that resist the attempts of elites to discipline them and, in a different vein than my work, the homogenizing forces of a mass culture. I suppose it could be said that the FCC was trying to "reign in" those who supported or sanctioned lynchings, but what in reality was happening was a long-term and tedious effort to work with local churches and leaders. Lots of conversations were being had about how to get more people in churches involved, so as to empower lay people and locals to be responsible for their own communities. To be sure, yes, the FCC was trying to change attitudes, alter practices, and in fact institute and organize different liturgies and race relations so as to produce different kinds of persons than those who would justify or engage in lynching and/or burning alive another human being. But I'm trying to pay close attention to how complex the notion of "local cultures" can be when thinking about how fiercely various churches and communities themselves resisted efforts to change entrenched racial practices and tended themselves to create "others" by labeling them as outsiders or meddlers when they suggested different ways of organizing human relations. Finally, the expression "reigning in" reminds me of a reflexively "social control" argument, which all too often tends to demonize elite efforts at social change as disciplining mechanisms, and it also carries an implicit valorization of the "folk." I hope more detailed historical works can challenge these overly general explanatory models.