Incorporating Religion into the US History Survey
Trevor Burrows
This summer I will be taking up yet another rite of passage familiar to graduate students everywhere: teaching the US History survey. And like most grad students building a syllabus and planning lectures for the first time, I’m experiencing an uneasy mix of excitement and confusion as I try to answer all the questions that emerge from the process. It seems the key word here, and the source of so much difficulty, is balance. How do we balance the need and desire to teach “hard” content alongside the larger processes that constitute historical thinking itself? How do we balance the presence of standard topics and narratives with those of the underrepresented and the marginalized? And the most important issue of balance: how do I finesse the syllabus so I get to talk about the stuff I really like?
I kid on the last point, of course, but as I have played with themes and lecture schedules and assignment possibilities, I have indeed wondered where religion “fits” in the survey. I have been lucky enough to TA for four sections of the survey so far (two of the first half, two of the second), so I have had several opportunities to see how religion has been folded into the survey in a few different ways. Reflecting on those personal experiences, as well as on syllabi I have unscientifically gathered from around the internet, it seems that religion is often touched on sporadically in most survey courses, and usually in relation to significant “non-religious” events. The first half of the survey frequently sees more explicit treatment of religious events and themes, which is perhaps unsurprising. Not only do you have major religious subjects that have been regularly connected to broader currents in American history and thus see substantial textbook treatment, such as the Great Awakening, but you also have the larger question of the place of religion in the founding itself, a question that virtually guarantees engagement and debate from students. Not so for the second part of the survey, the section I am preparing to teach, where religion gets attention around the social gospel and the fundamentalist/modernist controversy, maybe later in relation to the civil rights movement or conservatism in the late-twentieth century, and that’s about it. It often feels less integral to the larger narratives of the course, more episodic than persistent or organic.
Of course, the devil lurking in the details of the survey is the fact that no topic gets especially steady treatment in either half of the survey, unless the course is organized around recurring themes. Whether we are talking about labor, African Americans, women, or any number of other subjects, one could take similar note of that topic’s uneven coverage in the survey. Take a step toward focusing on any of these and you run the risk of being accused of telling the “wrong” history, of focusing too much on minorities, etc. Furthermore, there’s a good chance that coverage of such “special” topics will always feel superficial and cursory. And then there is the added burden of dealing with the fact that religious issues are difficult to teach, even more difficult to teach well, and are always potentially sensitive (even if broached in the most sensitive way). In short, we might excuse oversight of religious history through any number of reasonable concerns, from relevance to space to ease and comfort.
The problem is that, as historians who are especially interested in matters of religious history, we believe that our field is indeed relevant to the larger stories of American history, and that hopefully that relevance exceeds simply acknowledging religion’s occasional presence in important “non-religious” events. The question, then, returns: where does religion fit in the survey? And can it indeed fit, considering everything else that we hope to cover? I haven’t solved the dilemma by any means, but I have been playing with a few ideas toward incorporating religion in a more meaningful way into the survey.
1) Using images and interpretations of Jesus as a way of working through key moments in American culture
We now have in our possession a substantial and growing literature concerning the history of Jesus as a dynamic symbol in American culture including Stephen Prothero’s American Jesus, Richard Wightman Fox’s Jesus in America, and our own Ed Blum and Paul Harvey’s provocative The Color of Christ. It is not difficult to imagine indexing key periods in American history to the varieties of material culture and theological imagination elaborated in these volumes. I like this idea as a means for getting at the intimate, reciprocal relationship between religion and culture in American life. It also opens up an opportunity to consider how symbols that are popularly understood as static are far more fluid than recognized, a concept that has great historical significance beyond matters of religion. This would not have to take up a great amount of class time, yet could provide a consistent touchstone for lectures and readings. And besides, it might give a good excuse to play Woody Guthrie’s “Jesus Christ” in class - and who would pass that up?
2) Same idea, but with an “outsider” twist
One could probably pull together enough material to accomplish something similar to the above yet with a non-Christian focus. This may be less invested in the history of a given icon or symbol - although now that I think about it, following visual and conceptual interpretations of the Buddha in American culture could be fascinating - and instead focus on tracing perceptions and presence of non-Protestant religions or practices in America. This carries some of the same positive gains as the above but it also offers the added bonus of dealing explicitly with religious “outsiders,” which opens up a number of possible connections to histories of immigration, law, and American identity. Or perhaps you might choose a single “outsider” tradition and follow its relationship to the Protestant mainstream(s) over time, considering how its social and cultural position may be related to other historical themes (such as race or class). The important thing would be to return to the discussion regularly over the whole of the semester, to see how both the tradition and perceptions of the tradition change over time.
3) Tracking Connections Between Religion and Politics
Survey courses naturally lean toward political history, providing an obvious touchstone for a recurring thematic focus in the survey that doesn’t veer far from a lot of our standard material. Indeed, this is where religion often shows up in survey courses. What I envision here, however, is a more consistent conversation about religion and politics throughout the whole of the semester. For those of us who try to touch on how law and politics have contributed to the construction of key concepts in American history such as race, ethnicity, or gender, returning to connections between religion and politics regularly in lectures or readings offers an opportunity to discuss how religion as a concept is imagined and built through legal and political processes. It opens further opportunities for considering how those constructions affect other aspects of American society and politics in turn, such as the distribution of power in the public sphere. Related readings along these lines (for the second half of the survey) might include Wenger’s We Have a Religion or Schultz’s Tri-Faith America.
These are rough, lecture-focused ideas, although it is not hard to think of assignments that draw on each approach. Behind all of them is an effort to integrate religion into the syllabus with some regularity, rather than as something that just pops up from time to time with no organic connection between its appearances, without turning the course into an American Religious History survey. All of them allow more or less engagement depending on allotted time, and, perhaps most importantly for the survey, they can be easily connected to larger political and cultural issues that most of us already plan to discuss in our surveys in one way or another.
So how do you incorporate religious history and themes into your survey courses? Do you place it at the center of the survey in any way, or do you fold it into the larger narratives themselves? How do you position it so as to discuss religion’s fluidity and dynamism, rather than unintentionally feature it as a static phenomenon that gets a cameo appearance now and again? Inquiring graduate students and aspiring teachers want to know.
This summer I will be taking up yet another rite of passage familiar to graduate students everywhere: teaching the US History survey. And like most grad students building a syllabus and planning lectures for the first time, I’m experiencing an uneasy mix of excitement and confusion as I try to answer all the questions that emerge from the process. It seems the key word here, and the source of so much difficulty, is balance. How do we balance the need and desire to teach “hard” content alongside the larger processes that constitute historical thinking itself? How do we balance the presence of standard topics and narratives with those of the underrepresented and the marginalized? And the most important issue of balance: how do I finesse the syllabus so I get to talk about the stuff I really like?
I kid on the last point, of course, but as I have played with themes and lecture schedules and assignment possibilities, I have indeed wondered where religion “fits” in the survey. I have been lucky enough to TA for four sections of the survey so far (two of the first half, two of the second), so I have had several opportunities to see how religion has been folded into the survey in a few different ways. Reflecting on those personal experiences, as well as on syllabi I have unscientifically gathered from around the internet, it seems that religion is often touched on sporadically in most survey courses, and usually in relation to significant “non-religious” events. The first half of the survey frequently sees more explicit treatment of religious events and themes, which is perhaps unsurprising. Not only do you have major religious subjects that have been regularly connected to broader currents in American history and thus see substantial textbook treatment, such as the Great Awakening, but you also have the larger question of the place of religion in the founding itself, a question that virtually guarantees engagement and debate from students. Not so for the second part of the survey, the section I am preparing to teach, where religion gets attention around the social gospel and the fundamentalist/modernist controversy, maybe later in relation to the civil rights movement or conservatism in the late-twentieth century, and that’s about it. It often feels less integral to the larger narratives of the course, more episodic than persistent or organic.
Of course, the devil lurking in the details of the survey is the fact that no topic gets especially steady treatment in either half of the survey, unless the course is organized around recurring themes. Whether we are talking about labor, African Americans, women, or any number of other subjects, one could take similar note of that topic’s uneven coverage in the survey. Take a step toward focusing on any of these and you run the risk of being accused of telling the “wrong” history, of focusing too much on minorities, etc. Furthermore, there’s a good chance that coverage of such “special” topics will always feel superficial and cursory. And then there is the added burden of dealing with the fact that religious issues are difficult to teach, even more difficult to teach well, and are always potentially sensitive (even if broached in the most sensitive way). In short, we might excuse oversight of religious history through any number of reasonable concerns, from relevance to space to ease and comfort.
The problem is that, as historians who are especially interested in matters of religious history, we believe that our field is indeed relevant to the larger stories of American history, and that hopefully that relevance exceeds simply acknowledging religion’s occasional presence in important “non-religious” events. The question, then, returns: where does religion fit in the survey? And can it indeed fit, considering everything else that we hope to cover? I haven’t solved the dilemma by any means, but I have been playing with a few ideas toward incorporating religion in a more meaningful way into the survey.
1) Using images and interpretations of Jesus as a way of working through key moments in American culture
We now have in our possession a substantial and growing literature concerning the history of Jesus as a dynamic symbol in American culture including Stephen Prothero’s American Jesus, Richard Wightman Fox’s Jesus in America, and our own Ed Blum and Paul Harvey’s provocative The Color of Christ. It is not difficult to imagine indexing key periods in American history to the varieties of material culture and theological imagination elaborated in these volumes. I like this idea as a means for getting at the intimate, reciprocal relationship between religion and culture in American life. It also opens up an opportunity to consider how symbols that are popularly understood as static are far more fluid than recognized, a concept that has great historical significance beyond matters of religion. This would not have to take up a great amount of class time, yet could provide a consistent touchstone for lectures and readings. And besides, it might give a good excuse to play Woody Guthrie’s “Jesus Christ” in class - and who would pass that up?
2) Same idea, but with an “outsider” twist
One could probably pull together enough material to accomplish something similar to the above yet with a non-Christian focus. This may be less invested in the history of a given icon or symbol - although now that I think about it, following visual and conceptual interpretations of the Buddha in American culture could be fascinating - and instead focus on tracing perceptions and presence of non-Protestant religions or practices in America. This carries some of the same positive gains as the above but it also offers the added bonus of dealing explicitly with religious “outsiders,” which opens up a number of possible connections to histories of immigration, law, and American identity. Or perhaps you might choose a single “outsider” tradition and follow its relationship to the Protestant mainstream(s) over time, considering how its social and cultural position may be related to other historical themes (such as race or class). The important thing would be to return to the discussion regularly over the whole of the semester, to see how both the tradition and perceptions of the tradition change over time.
3) Tracking Connections Between Religion and Politics
Survey courses naturally lean toward political history, providing an obvious touchstone for a recurring thematic focus in the survey that doesn’t veer far from a lot of our standard material. Indeed, this is where religion often shows up in survey courses. What I envision here, however, is a more consistent conversation about religion and politics throughout the whole of the semester. For those of us who try to touch on how law and politics have contributed to the construction of key concepts in American history such as race, ethnicity, or gender, returning to connections between religion and politics regularly in lectures or readings offers an opportunity to discuss how religion as a concept is imagined and built through legal and political processes. It opens further opportunities for considering how those constructions affect other aspects of American society and politics in turn, such as the distribution of power in the public sphere. Related readings along these lines (for the second half of the survey) might include Wenger’s We Have a Religion or Schultz’s Tri-Faith America.
These are rough, lecture-focused ideas, although it is not hard to think of assignments that draw on each approach. Behind all of them is an effort to integrate religion into the syllabus with some regularity, rather than as something that just pops up from time to time with no organic connection between its appearances, without turning the course into an American Religious History survey. All of them allow more or less engagement depending on allotted time, and, perhaps most importantly for the survey, they can be easily connected to larger political and cultural issues that most of us already plan to discuss in our surveys in one way or another.
So how do you incorporate religious history and themes into your survey courses? Do you place it at the center of the survey in any way, or do you fold it into the larger narratives themselves? How do you position it so as to discuss religion’s fluidity and dynamism, rather than unintentionally feature it as a static phenomenon that gets a cameo appearance now and again? Inquiring graduate students and aspiring teachers want to know.
Comments
Mark, I think that your experience (making room for race and gender) is probably typical. I do wonder if we can't use those topics themselves to do more with religion in the survey. It's something I'll probably play around with as I continue working on the syllabus.
Jonathan, we do two sections for the US survey, one pre-Civil War, one post-Civil War; I'll be doing the latter half this summer, condensed into an eight-week period. I appreciate the reading recommendations - I will especially be sure to check out the Hankins text, which I *think* I've seen recommended for teaching elsewhere, as well.
Elesha, your overview is helpful and gets at another problem that I didn't have space to talk about, which is how much the issue of space is compounded by the way one organizes and structures the class to begin with. My class will be a smaller format (cap at 40, I think), which gives me freedom to play with assignments and in-class discussion that would be less feasible in a larger survey of 180 students. I'd definitely be interested in hearing more about your experience with "farming out" individual themes, as that's one route I've considered. The other possibility I've played with is having the class essentially create a digital primary source bank, with students or groups of students working to find sources on key themes and bring those results to class discussion in some way.
Of course, with every assignment or extra "layer" to the class design, it starts to feel more and more stretched in terms of time and space. I will probably return to this topic in a few months and let folks know what I came up with.
One other idea that might be useful: In addition to end-of-unit presentations, I sometimes did in-class activities during which the tracking groups analyzed short primary sources related to their theme.
For one day, I'd collected political cartoons (3 for each group--oh, and I just remembered, the 6th group was environment, not technology), plus a worksheet on how to analyze them. Students discussed their printed cartoons in their groups, then I projected the cartoons up front and the students talked the rest of us through them. For another day, I mined interviews about the Great Depression, selected one that pertained to each group, and then asked all of the groups the same questions, to which they responded with their interviewee's answer. What kind of work did you find? Did the government help you? That sort of thing.
Doing this kind of "multiple perspectives on the same issue or period" exercise two or three times during the semester (even if you didn't have tracking groups that persisted beyond the exercises) would address your concerns about non-political issues popping up randomly. The logic wouldn't be "at this point, suddenly religion has something to say" but "at any point, we can stop and realize that religion has something to say."
OK, I'll shut up now. Good luck!
What I mean is, this whole conversation assumes that there is some thing called religion out there in history that we just have to be sure to dump more into the syllabus. Add religion and stir. That seems a little uncomplicated.
For example, when we talk about race in US history we don't just mean black people anymore, we mean the ways race was constructed--black, white, latino, etc. When done rightly, race is seen as ever changing discourse. (I hope) we don't do "add black people and stir" anymore.
So, if we think the ways Americans imagined, deployed, and used religion in history is important to include in the survey then I don't think we go looking for figures and events--Niebuhrs and Awakenings (by the way, that'd be a great band name). Rather, we go looking for Americans constructing and deploying religion. It might take us to some of the same places we've already mentioned, but it will take us in from a different angle that doesn't argue that these things are important because they religion because religion is important. It might also take us to some new places too.
Personally, I'd rather teach Jackie Robinson, or Rosie the Riveter, or the Scopes Trial (again, to undergrads in a survey class) primarily as "here's a thing that happened, and here's how people reacted to it." There are ways to include constructedness in that approach. But hitting the highlights of a history few undergrads know, complete with jazzy pictures and video clips, has a lot to commend it.