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SOC 420 Lesson 4 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1: Social Processes and Power— Politics, Race, Gender, and Class

The Puritan wanted to work in a calling; we are forced to do so. For when asceticism was carried out of monastic cells into everyday life, and began to dominate worldly morality, it did its part in building the tremendous cosmos of the modern economic order. This order is now bound to the technical and economic conditions of machine production which today determine the lives of all the individuals who are born into this mechanism, not only those directly concerned with economic acquisition, with irresistible force. Perhaps it will so determine them until the last ton of fossilized coal is burnt. In Baxter's view the care for external goods should only lie on the shoulders of the "saint like a light cloak, which can be thrown aside at any moment." 114 But fate decreed that the cloak should become an iron cage.

Since asceticism undertook to remodel the world and to work out its ideals in the world, material goods have gained an increasing and finally an inexorable power over the lives of men as at no previous period in history. Today the spirit of religious asceticism—whether finally, who knows?—has escaped from the cage. But victorious capitalism, since it rests on mechanical foundations, needs its support no longer. The rosy blush of its laughing heir, the Enlightenment, seems also to be irretrievably fading, and the idea of duty in one's calling prowls about in our lives like the ghost of dead religious beliefs. Where the fulfillment of the calling cannot directly be related to the highest spiritual and cultural values, or when, on the other hand, it need not be felt simply as economic compulsion, the individual generally abandons the attempt to justify it at all. In the field of its highest development, in the United States, the pursuit of wealth, stripped of its religious and ethical meaning, tends to become associated with purely mundane passions, which often actually give it the character of sport. 115

No one knows who will live in this cage in the future, or whether at the end of this tremendous development entirely new prophets will arise, or there will be a great rebirth of old ideas and ideals, or, if neither, mechanized petrification, embellished with a sort of convulsive self-importance. For of the last stage of this cultural development, it might well be truly said: "Specialists without spirit, sensualists without heart; this nullity imagines that it has attained a level of civilization never before achieved."

—From Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, as cited at this Internet Archive copy--see pages 181-82 (PDF screens 96 and 97) .

First Things First—Politics, Social Class, Race and Gender, and Other Fun and Games

Welcome to Lesson 4 of SOC 420! Just some notes for you all today on the subjects we’ve been reading about, as well as a comment or two about Max Weber’s The Protestant Ethic. As you know, in Assignment 4, you should be reading and writing about religion and politics, social class and power, race/ethnicity, and gender. (Yes, race, ethnicity, and gender would all qualify as separate concepts.) Feel free to also integrate any other major concepts that might impress you from those chapters or from the alternative online readings that are acceptable. All fair game—though, as with Assignment 3, please remember as you write Assignment 4 to discuss the named concepts first. Remember, no need to memorize everything—just skim all the required readings—starting with this lesson and the Christiano chapters—once to familiarize yourself. Then come back to read more closely about what is of most direct relevance to your interests and projects. Focus on what’s most relevant first. Then show me what you’ve learned, that you’ve processed it, and can think critically about it and apply and interrelate the concepts. Do your research well, and that’ll work! Here are the required readings in addition to the text chapters.

Required Readings (see PDF copies attached on Canvas if links malfunction or expire):

Religion and Politics: Pew Forum Report, U.S. Religious Landscape Survey, 2008. Chapter 2, "Social and Political Views." (Optional but recommended: Feel free to read the Entire Report, starting at Section 1. The report is a little dated but still largely valid.)

Religion and Social Class: Schwadel 2009, “Neighbors in the Pews.” Digital Commons, University of Nebraska.

Religion and Race/Ethnicity: Sanchez and Carter 2005, “Religion and African American Racial Identity,” Journal of College Student Development (46/3) .

Religion and Gender: Woodward 2013 on Religion Gender and Meaning . (Excellent overview and information, though feel free to think critically. (

Optional Readings and Resources:

Religion and Politics: Georgetown University's Berkley Center for Religion, Peace, and World Affairs , a wonderful resource on this topic, as well as The PBS Frontline series God in America .)

Religion and Class/Economic Factors: Lincoln et. al., 2008, "Religious Giving." (See especially pages 19-34.)

Religion and Race/Ethnicity: Pew Forum articles on US religious demographics, many relevant to race and ethnicity . See also The Journal of Race, Ethnicity, and Religion .

Religion and Gender: The online journal Religion and Ge+nder and the Center for Religion and the Professions at the University of Missouri.

Again, in line with the encouragement in Lesson 3, as you write, show your insights, analyze the named concepts (you can add what you’d like about other material after that), make connections with the course material, and explore what you’re learning in depth!

So now that we’ve introduced those, just a few notes here and there about religion and politics. First, as not only Christiano but Johnstone, Putnam and Campbell, and many others point out, religion has become a major player in the American political system, particularly since the 1980s and the foundation of “The Moral Majority.” Morally charged debates about various issues ranging from theological (prayer in schools) to academic (evolution) and to life itself (abortion, euthanasia, capital punishment, etc.) have raged for the past few decades, more recently joined by gay rights and same-sex marriage debates and legal action. The June 2015 Obergefell v. Hodges Supreme Court decision on gay marriage in particular seemed intended to settle the question, as it has among some segments of society, though others have since expressed misgivings on moral grounds. So the debate continues, though the playing field has shifted substantially. In any case, it is abundantly clear that many Americans—conservative AND liberal alike—have over the decades used their religious views to justify their political perspectives and approaches. What’s the explanation? Here are just a few thoughts on that.

First, both politics and religion involve deeply seated beliefs. Interestingly, many religious believers in America today (even including some members of my own faith) deeply value their political beliefs, more than a few quite frankly even to the point of appearing to believe more deeply in their politics than their religion. Of course, that’s probably beside the point. Or, on second thought, is it really? Especially with Edward Bailey’s concept of “implicit religion” in mind? (See Christiano, pp. 50-52, or Edward Bailey's chapter in the Oxford Handbook of the Sociology of Religion .) The two have become so intertwined in our modern American political consciousness that it’s hardly surprising to see, at least in practice (though not in name or literal organization, as in the concept of implicit religion—simply explained, the idea that religious thinking and behavior is present in many different areas of society, including sports, academics, science, and of course politics), the Church of Political Correctness or the Church of Health Care emerge, or perhaps the Church of Lower Taxes, the Church of the Free Constitutional Republic, the Church of Immigration Law, the Church of Anti-Vaccination, the Church of Masks Don’t Work, and so forth, all depending on what variety of deeply held political-religious beliefs one holds. No, these actual “churches” don’t exist, of course—but far too many people act as if they do and as if they have become fully committed members. That’s implicit religion at work, in this case in politics.

For better or worse, we also saw in the 2016 presidential race the emergence of the (apparent) Church of Donald Trump, as loyal followers flocked around a hero who seemingly could do no wrong in their eyes while others gazed on, horrified. As we know from the fervent loyalty of this group despite the various crises and problems the Trump Administration encountered, that “church” certainly seems to be sticking around—even after the election of Joe Biden. Perhaps especially after Biden’s win, disputed by Trump and an increasingly smaller but still fervent core of his followers that insists he actually won. This will remain an issue to watch as Biden— who appealed to religious sentiment during his own presidential campaign — continues to govern in 2022, even as numerous dates predicted for Trump’s re-ascendance to the presidency have passed by without incident. It also remains to be seen after several attempts to hold Trump accountable for the Jan. 6 riots and other apparent misbehavior, most recently the August 2022 FBI raid on Mar-a-Lago, apparently to recapture sensitive nuclear documents.

Neither is the conflation of politics and religion fully hyperbole. Some observers have pointed out that various conspiracy theories rampant in American politics today—most notably those connected with the shady, mysterious alt-right figure QAnon, or more often simply “Q”—have distinctly religious overtones and implications. As this piece in The Atlantic explains, much of Q (as with conspiracy theory in general) eerily resembles religious belief, complete with the apparent ability to convince followers that particular “prophecies” are true, if not fulfill them outright. Relevant outlines the appeal of Q for American Christians, particularly the less religious , while Christianity Today explores the ultimate evangelical question: Can Christians consider Q Biblical?

For various reasons, possibly also related to the legal troubles of InfoWars head Alex Jones (on trial for falsely characterizing the Sandy Hook shootings of innocent schoolchildren as some sort of government “false flag” operation), Q doesn’t seem to be as active or influential during the Biden presidency—though please note that this conspiracy theory is neither gone nor forgotten, especially on the ultra-far-right. Moreover, the fact remains that Q helped throw open the doors to conspiratorial thought and helped undermine political legitimacy through means that distinctly echoed religious processes, playing a key role in the tumultuous events of January 6, 2021. I should be clear that there’s no known connection between Q and Alex Jones, but it is certainly intriguing that Q is much less active as Jones has been embroiled in legal issues. In any case, it’s ultimately undeniable that politics and religion are profoundly interlinked in modern American culture and life.

That said, keep in mind one of the core ironies of American society: According to our longstanding legal practice, there’s supposed to be some sort of separation between politics and religion, publicly and privately. However, we definitely have a great deal of trouble doing precisely that, and we’ve only scratched the surface. Questions arise: How complete is that separation? How complete should it be? Might extreme separation actually marginalize religion?

For more on the interrelationship of politics and religion in the modern American Christian context, see this insightful previously recommended video from Phil Vischer (AKA “Bob the Tomato,” for those who grew up on VeggieTales). As before, note that I haven’t fact-checked all the details, so feel free to verify anything that seems off (I’m TBH not sure about all the “Scopes Monkey Trial” details in particular). But it’s generally true of the overall discourse of modern Christian thought. Also note that just as it discusses fundamentalism really quite well, some parts are also relevant to our upcoming discussion of race later in this chapter as well as religion and the media in Lesson 5.

Second, the interlinkage of politics and religion means that they seem like the same thing, and can even feel the same. Sociologist Emile Durkheim suggested one possible reason for this in his classic treatise on the elementary forms of religious life, as he concluded that the “collective effervescence” that in his framework drives religion actually originates from the energy of the group itself. ( The full explanation from the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy is here .) So in the Durkheimian framework, the reason for such intense political and religious association would be the commonality of collective effervescence (or social energy) at work in both processes. In all fairness, not many sociologists today truly “buy into” Durkheim’s notion of collective effervescence as a theoretical construct. It doesn’t have legs as a valid comprehensive social theory along the same lines as functionalism or symbolic interaction. Still, the logical train of thought seems instructive, particularly when examining Trump’s highly energetic political following. Durkheim’s idea of collective effervescence at very least suggests that the energy of social activity helps underscore ideas that emerge from such settings. So in this framework, a worship service and a political convention (or even a Trump rally) would produce similar feelings and experiences. Simply put, the “rush” people get from the energy of such gatherings could certainly push a lot of the behavior that follows.

The “collective effervescence” explanation seems true in some respects, although qualitative differences between those settings also seems relevant. I’m also not entirely sure this fully accounts for the individual or social psychology of each process, which probably also helps explain why few sociologists cite the Durkheimian concept of “collective effervescence” as a concrete explanation. ( Explaining the curiously still-enduring Trump popularity phenomenon, for instance, requires examining the multi-variate historical and socio-political context that includes fears over illegal immigration and terrorism, an ongoing refugee crisis, talk radio and anti-liberal sentiment, distrust of established mass media (and a willingness to point a finger at “fake news,” however defined), a backlash against the advocates of political correctness and liberalism, the continued unpopularity of Obama and Hillary Clinton among many conservatives, the attempt to de-legitimize the election of Joe Biden (STILL, nearly two years later), the rise of nationalism and pro-traditional-Christian favoritism along with conspiracy theory, the prospect of foreign interference in US affairs, and so forth. But at minimum, Durkheim explains group religious phenomena via the collective effervescence hypothesis, and there may well also be various socio-political applications.

For that matter, Berger’s Sacred Canopy argument about the legitimation of the socially constructed and established nomos may have found a political equivalent. If the nomos is considered no longer divine, but a political figure or celebrity, it could be legitimated in a very similar way. Is this happening right before our eyes? Possibly. Although some GOP loyalists voted for Trump simply because they didn’t want to see Hillary Clinton or Joe Biden (or in the far-right-conspiratorial line of thought, Kamala Harris) in the Oval Office, other fervent Trump supporters have legitimized their candidate as The Only One who could “make America great again”—in doing so, also rejecting counterarguments and evidence against their candidate while vilifying Hillary Clinton and Joe Biden. (For various reasons, Clinton has historically been easier to demonize, though Biden’s son Hunter has certainly been pulled into the fray.) In all fairness, Democrats and some independent sources and supporters have also vilified Trump and other GOP figures in return. Moreover, much of the media coverage of Trump and his administration has been sharply negative, deserved or not. No matter where we sit politically, our politics and political news coverage alike have become indisputably toxic.

Nonetheless, the sense of legitimation of Trump was real in 2016, as a number of prominent conservative Christian leaders endorsed and backed Trump despite his apparent lack of religiosity. This support has largely continued, even despite the armed revolt at the US Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021 and the sentencing of many who openly participated in the unrest. Some continue the unfailing support, blaming the FBI for supposedly persecuting Trump by raiding Mar-a-Lago in August 2022, despite the documentable fact that Trump had highly sensitive confidential documents in his possession that he was legally supposed to leave in place. In any case, the historic unpopularity of both Trump and Hillary Clinton was unparalleled in modern politics, resulting in a great deal of politics-of-opposition as well as cynicism. A lingering sense of malaise continued in the 2018 mid-term elections, producing the 116th Congress that expanded its religious diversity, including the first two Muslim women ever elected to the House of Representatives . Something of a “blue wave” in 2018 put the House in Democrat control, leading to Trump’s first impeachment, though retaining the GOP Senate majority was the primary factor in his acquittal.

The 2020 election saw much less independent political activity than 2016, with Libertarian Jo Jorgenson largely carrying the banner for independents, unless one counts Kanye West, who some believe entered the race to take votes from Democrat Joe Biden, though if that was the ploy, it apparently didn’t work well if at all. Meanwhile, with Joe Biden winning the presidency from Trump in 2020, Biden has publicly reaffirmed his Catholic faith, though some Catholic bishops remain incensed at Biden's political positions , which they see as at odds with Catholic beliefs—most notably abortion. The Jan. 6 revolt then led to Trump’s second impeachment, which most Republican senators dismissed. However, seven senators, notably including Utah’s Mitt Romney (citing conscience), voted to convict. In short: The relationship between politics and religion in the US has become much more complicated since 2016. Time will tell what the 2022 election cycle will bring.

Third, religion and politics tend to mimic each other in terms of social structure. For a more satisfactory and complete analysis, please see Robert Bellah’s treatise on civil religion in the American context. ( Bellah’s full essay is here. ) The long and short of it: Bellah argues that in America, we have infused our political sphere with religious significance. Therefore, the American political realm has acquired a religious dimension, which is something of the flip side of the argument that many religions have conversely acquired political overtones. Not only do American political leaders—probably more true in the past than the present, but still more commonplace at present than many seem to believe—routinely invoke God, but the very American political structure appears to have near-religious significance. As Bailey’s “implicit religion” concept helps explain, politics operate very much like religion. Again, given the overt Sacred Canopy process of legitimation of the intersubjective as actually having Objective significance, it is hardly difficult to imagine Berger agreeing here.

As Bellah put it: In America, our “ sacred documents”—The Constitution, Declaration of Independence, Bill of Rights, and by extension, the resulting legal codes— generally guide our political decisions. We have “ sacred sites”: The Lincoln Memorial, Washington Monument, the White House and the rest of the Capitol complex, Gettysburg, and so forth. We have “ saints”: Washington, Jefferson, Franklin, Lincoln, FDR, and JFK, to name a mere few of the most prominent. We have hymns and devotional music: The National Anthem, “Stars and Stripes Forever,” “America the Beautiful,” and so forth—and last but far from least, “God Bless America.” We have national “ holy days” (holidays): Independence Day, President’s Day, Flag Day, Memorial Day, Veteran’s Day, etc. We have religious symbols and relics: Our country’s flag, Presidential Seal, eagle, and the Liberty Bell among them. We allow our president to be inaugurated with an oath on the Bible or other sacred texts. We debate the religious views of our presidential candidates, and even if some among us know a candidate isn’t at all religious, the candidate’s most fervent partisans infuse the race with politico-religious significance anyway.

Those of you who read the required Pew Forum research article and/or watched the Frontline series have seen just now interlinked American politics and religion really are. When we speak of the separation of church and state, we are often discussing an analytical distinction. As previously noted, we still have a very difficult time doing so in actual practice. It’s interesting to observe the conclusions the authors of American Grace (who are political scientists, after all!) drew about the 2008 presidential election. Notably, they underscored the role of religion in the political process, noting how profoundly the candidates’ religious affiliations mattered. Was Barack Obama a true Christian? A number of detractors even today, including more than a few Trump supporters, continue to insist—falsely and a shade absurdly—that he is actually a Muslim pretending to be a Christian. ( For the record: Yes, Obama’s father was nominally Muslim. But Obama himself was raised in a spiritual-though-not-overtly-religious environment and converted to Christianity while living in Chicago shortly after attending college. The conversion came without undue complications or repercussions.) How much did religion matter to Republican candidate John McCain in 2008? For many American religious ultraconservatives, not enough. McCain was not “their kind of religious,” as it were. Yet a scant eight years later, overt religiosity and adherence to “family values” seems not to matter at all for a fair number of the same believers—though championing and advocating for religion and religious interests certainly still matters.

Putnam and Campbell were no doubt riveted by the 2012 election as well, as Republican presidential hopeful Mitt Romney—defeated in the 2008 primaries, partly over concerns about his religious beliefs—not only gained his party’s nomination but gained unprecedented support from conservative Christians across America despite their historical antagonism towards the beliefs of the church to which Romney belonged. True, the majority of conservative evangelical voters seemingly opposed re-electing President Obama more than they opposed Romney’s religion. Significantly and ironically, however, negative views of Romney’s religion mattered much more than his politics to many top Republicans, especially to several ultra-conservative pastors and religious opinion leaders. As with McCain, to a substantial group, he wasn’t “their kind of religious” either. As a result, evangelical support for Romney in 2012 was far from universal; neither was it whole-hearted nor long-lasting. With Romney’s loss, many previous religious relationships seem to have reverted, including the traditional theological divide with traditional Christian faith groups. Still, the 2012 election indicated that at least some Christian (and specifically evangelical) voters would support a presidential candidate from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints under a particular set of conditions. Whether this sort of support would ever occur again, especially after the dynamics observed in 2016, remains to be seen.

It seems to be the case, in fact, that the previously mentioned traditional Christian religious leaders were so desperate for “winning” after the 2012 loss despite squeaky-clean Romney that they were willing to put aside the “squeaky clean” factor in favor of a highly flawed but seemingly strong charismatic candidate who still promised “winning.” Interestingly, many ultraconservative voters with previous reservations about “not my kind of religious” candidates turned to a political figure who was barely religious at all. The unwavering support for Donald Trump from some religious quarters has continued despite numerous controversies, most notably the December 2019 passage of articles of impeachment against Trump in the House of Representatives, accusations throughout 2020 that Trump mismanaged the US response to the COVID-19 pandemic, and even the aftermath of the 2020 election—including the January 6 armed revolt and subsequent second impeachment. Here, official state certifications, virtually all qualified observers, and the state/federal courts alike jointly attest that Joe Biden won the election. However, Trump’s refusal to concede and insistence that he actually won (thanks to vaguely given and generally unsupported claims of Democrat election-rigging) have only assured that his place as an American opinion leader remains unwavering for the most devoted of his support base, and survives even despite his ban from Facebook, Twitter, and other social media outlets.

The Intersection of Religion with Race, Ethnicity, and Culture

Another interesting idea somewhat related to religion and politics is the malleability of religion. Religion, as we remember from Lesson 2, stems from our subjective perception and intersubjective construction of the Reality we understand as Objective. Keep in mind, again—in this class, we are not approaching this issue from a believer’s perspective. The Objective Truth of any particular religious perspective is beyond our assessment. But we are taking a close look at religion’s intersubjective dimension, in which religion acts as a socially constructed entity. As such, religion as currently practiced by many groups in our world today is malleable. Because it is socially constructed, as with Berger’s Sacred Canopy argument, it can be shaped, changed, interpreted, and re-interpreted in order to fit the demands of the group or society that uses it. Many political beliefs have shaped religion over the years, such as the ordination of women and acceptance of homosexuality in many Christian denominations. Since religion has been practiced in a highly malleable way, it has been used for particular ends. Considered in its dimension of a social creation—or, by some motivated individuals, even subjective experience—malleable religion can be used to enlighten or oppress, teach or reduce to ignorance, bind or make free, or to build or destroy.

According to Ronald L. Johnstone (in the text that was formerly required for this class), religion—though not exclusively to blame—certainly played a distinct role in the deculturation of many slaves. Some of those brought over were already Christian, but many others were not. Some were Muslims; others held various African tribal-religious views. Still, most slaves were Christianized. Johnstone presents a pre-segregation scenario in the South, likely during the 18th and early 19th centuries, where slaves and their owning families went to church together. In a curious and highly ironic social inversion, the masters occupied the lower level and the slaves were relegated to the upper concourse of the church. Strange and counterintuitive to physically place the slaves above the masters, right? Not really when we think about it: On the upper level, with only windows as exits, the slaves were right where the masters could keep an eye on them and where they couldn’t safely escape. These slaves “learned their place” in society through the practice of religion. Later on, slaves and masters attended church separately, with resulting differences in religious practice and experience between black and white churches in the South.

Here, questions of power present themselves, as the more powerful white owners clearly justified their own actions via the Christian religious tradition, both as they understood it and as they used it. Whether consciously or unconsciously, the slave owners used various principles of Christianity to rationalize their actions and social position. In return, our own 21st century perspective on religion as well as public philosophy, which are both much different than theirs, contributes to a sense of shock and horror as we consider the social outcomes. A great deal of literature on race and religion is devoted to the Black diaspora, slavery, and post-slavery periods.

Yet it should surprise none of us that there exist substantial Black and white differences in religious perception and praxis , as Dr. Michael Emerson further attests. Those of you who read the Sanchez and Carter article have also seen that the Black experience with religion has some substantive differences with the Caucasian experience, including a tendency to more closely integrate worship with community and political concerns than generally occurs with Caucasian believers. There is much less church-state separation in the Black church. For yet another perspective supporting this thesis, feel free as well to consult Dr. Sandra Barnes’ reflections on W.E.B. DuBois’ Souls of Black Folk .

In any case, we speak of the Black church for a reason. Black Christians, faced at first with worship under the watchful eyes of their masters, and then afterwards with segregated worship, truly did perceive and use the church differently than their white counterparts. The Black church in America became not only more energetic and enthusiastic, but also more community-centered, more applied in terms of service and mutual assistance (i.e., “let’s take care of each other”), and last though anything but least, more explicitly political than worship tended to be in the white congregations. Because the Black worshippers were less culturally and politically powerful, their churches became their cultural and political centers where they put what they believed into practice and sought ways to empower themselves.

Just a couple more notes about race. First, in my own religious background, race and my faith tradition have had something of a checkered history and have featured a fair amount of misunderstanding—even among my fellow church members themselves. I won’t dwell on this at length because I want to devote time and space to other concepts in other contexts, but let’s leave it at this: I take a personal interest in this issue because of my two years spent living among and teaching religion to a largely Black population in the Caribbean, where this issue became real and human to me. My personal belief—for whatever it’s worth—is that all races and ethnic categories are, in the words of the Book of Mormon itself (if the truth be known) ( “alike unto God.” (See 2 Nephi 26:33 .) However, we human beings have always had trouble looking past the historical biases and even prejudices that we have inherited and/or socially constructed for ourselves.

In any case, if you want more information on the church and Blacks from a sociological perspective, click on this intriguing explanation by the late sociologist Armand Mauss , who was also LDS. Please note, though, that IMHO Dr. Mauss has overlooked and oversimplified no small amount of historical complexity by strongly implying that Brigham Young was a racist. Considering some of the nuances of that argument, yes, indisputably, some of Young’s opinions are best described as racist by today’s standards—though such views were also common in mid-19th century American society. In that light, it’s valuable to examine the nuanced perspective of Black activist Heather McGhee on racism : “There’s a false mythology that in the days of segregation, the majority of white people were bad, evil people and no one today could hold that position if they were fed the same images and stories of why black people deserved it. … Where did Southerners get the belief that there was something so wrong with black children that they shouldn’t drink from the same water fountain? It wasn’t inner malevolence; it was images and messages that justified black people’s lower position in society.”

In other words, racism is and has been so pervasive throughout history that even decent people who thought they were doing the right thing fell prey to it—a tendency which still continues today in many other contexts. Many revered historical figures still had racially dubious viewpoints and made racially charged statements. Consider also that racism is NOT merely something people either are or aren’t— it’s a spectrum rather than a category. This means that despite our best intentions and beliefs to the contrary, each of us may be a little bit racist in our own ways—the important thing is to recognize and counteract it as best we can. Brigham Young had that problem, too, without the modern conceptualization of racism-on-a-spectrum so that he could recognize and correct it.

By acknowledging his racism, we need not conclude that Young stalked the nighttime streets of Salt Lake City in white sheets burning crosses in less-than-white people’s front yards. THAT most certainly didn’t happen, either. As a matter of fact, his views on Blacks aside, he actually advocated empathy and service towards the Native Americans in the Western territory of America, advising church members to feed rather than fight them. He sent missionaries to various Asian and South Pacific countries and welcomed members from those areas. He even indicated that the day would someday come when Black members would enjoy full privileges in the church despite the restrictions he had announced and enacted.

In sum, his racism was essentially limited to banning the church’s privileges to those of African descent and some fairly harsh and shocking words about “the seed of Cain” in various speeches. Let’s be clear: That’s still bad. Young was indisputably racist in terms of Africans, which is typical of others of his time, and unfortunate and ugly all at once. Still, as discussed previously, Young leaves a lot of other boxes unchecked if we want to consider him an actual white supremacist. Moreover, interestingly, Young was also an abolitionist and advocate for women’s education, being in those respects a 19th-century progressive. Since cultures also change over time, resulting in different “time cultures,” studying history requires that we try to step out of the lenses of the present and assess the true complexity of the people we examine by the standards of their time. So by all means, let’s do that. (

Second, though examining the Black experience is critical for understanding the American context of race and religion, if we only consider the Black experience as relevant, we unfortunately overlook the role that religion has played and continues to play in other racial and ethnic contexts. Ethnicity, BTW, is a better or at least more realistic conceptualization to adopt overall than “race,” which generally adopts mere skin color as the sole marker of difference and becomes something of a reified social construct when considered globally. Ethnicity, too, is a social fact, though we can learn a great deal from the cultures around us.

For instance, many Native American belief systems are virtually synonymous with their cultures and also provide a rich worldview. Consider, to only begin to scratch the surface, the sheer profundity and depth of the Navajo concept of hozho , a complex quality and state of being that includes multiple aspects such as joy, order, beauty, harmony, health, balance, peace and completeness—all of which are interconnected and interdependent—that native Navajo believers see as an end objective. Trying to comprehend the complex beauty of this concept will definitely expand the mind! And that’s only one concept from one Native American tradition; the beliefs of the Cherokee, Iroquois, Hopi, Zuni, Apache, and many others are well worth examining and learning from—though these complex cultures take a lot of effort to understand.

Unfortunately, it’s also possible to regrettably skim past the rich heritage and cultural contribution of Catholicism to Latino/Latina ethnicity—which, unfortunately and ironically, I may have to do, leaving you primarily with this resource detailing the influence of spirituality and religion in Latino culture . Since the alternative could be a 50-page lesson, 😊 let’s largely recommend this resource for your optional reading and intellectual enrichment. The linked article generally does an excellent job of discussing the development of Latino spirituality in the context of a genesis of European colonialism, the melding of a variety of cultural perspectives in a Catholic worldview, and the key influence of the Our Lady of Guadalupe religious experience. This combination—and let’s not overlook the value of a “sign from God” as a contributing factor—helped native cultures accept Catholicism as an extension (not necessarily a replacement!) of their existing lifeworlds.

Likewise, one only begins to understand Asian cultures with an analysis of Buddhism and, in the case of Japan, Shinto as well; much the same applies to the Eastern India region and Hinduism. Eastern religion and culture alike are highly intertwined. This is also true of the culture and religious traditions of the Pacific Islands and the Australian aborigines. Speaking of which, if you want to really and truly blow your own mind from a sociology-of-religion standpoint, even beyond hozho, try to wrap your minds around the mystical aboriginal concept of The Dreamtime . (And Emile Durkheim thought the aborigines were primitive. Hah! () The native religions of the Pacific Islanders, though not as prevalent as they used to be, are likewise interconnected with their governance and lifestyle. The tribes simply did what they thought would satisfy the gods, in their political and religious life alike.

In short, though we in America tend to embrace a pluralistic model of religion (which the religious identity of Christianity tends to dominate, nonetheless), race and ethnicity are clearly linked to systems of belief and culture in the global perspective. We likewise in our social context shouldn’t be ignorant of the pervasive influence of Christian religious concepts in our nation’s cultural fabric. We tend to shun the overt symbols in our public space—see numerous court battles over Ten Commandments monuments and Nativity scenes—but find it difficult to escape more subtle influences, such as laws that reflect and to some degree still enforce our religious beliefs. Likewise for other races, ethnicities, and cultures, religion often plays a key role in shaping and maintaining the associated collective identity, whether this happens directly (as in Shinto, for only one example) or indirectly (as in the complex interrelationship of Catholicism in several Latinx cultures).

Gender and Sexuality

Religion also clearly shapes the discourse of gender and sexuality. One preliminary note about the Woodward essay that is listed as a required reading: I do NOT agree in any way with her assertion early in her essay that the sociology of religion has neglected gender issues. Ummm… really? Seriously? Not to go on a rant about this or anything, but anyone who has read and considered at length the work of Susan Starr Sered, Lynn Davidman, Marie Cornwall, and many others on women in religion just can’t reasonably make that argument with a straight face! However, Woodward’s point may be valid if somewhat restated: The sociology of religion has traditionally adhered to a more static than dynamic conceptualization of gender, in contrast to other sociological fields. Woodward clearly prefers the dynamic version of that conceptualization, which has not been as common in the literature on religion and gender. So that’s what I think she really means by that statement. OK, now that I have that off my chest, I feel better. I think. (

In any case, when considering the interaction between religion and gender, let’s consider this: In our modern Western world, many of our religious systems have historically been male-centric—and for that matter, also heteronormative and cisgender—especially in the Judeo-Christian context. In the Genesis account, the core founding narrative to all Judeo-Christian believers, the serpent deceives the woman Eve and convinces her to eat the forbidden fruit first, but the man Adam makes up his own mind. God then appoints Adam as the ruler over the woman. Hence, in the Judeo-Christian context, the man has historically “ruled” over the woman (in many of the various senses of the term), and historically, both Judaism and the various Christian denominations have featured almost exclusively male leadership. Islam also relies on this narrative in general, though with a somewhat different understanding and perspective, both overall and dependent on the collective interpretation of the Islamic group in question. Still, the outcome in terms of gender is more or less the same, particularly for conservative forms of Islam. Buddhism in general has likewise been historically patriarchal, though of course for much different reasons than the Adam-Eve gender narrative, and features substantial variation according to local culture, as discussed by this informed observer .

Historically, outside these traditions, the role and view of women have been different, especially in polytheistic faith traditions. Hinduism has sent some fairly mixed messages about gender equality , so that in some times and places, women were more equal to men than in others. In Egyptian mythology, as with the corresponding society, men and women were seen as equals , though differences clearly existed in society according to social class. With a few notable exceptions such as Nefertiri and the much later Cleopatra, men were almost always given the ruling power as Pharaohs and later equivalent titles.

Later, in the Greek pantheon as well as its Roman counterpart , the male deities seemed to hold more power than the females, and the same tendency carried over into the corresponding societies. However, we with our 21st century eyes tend to see women in ancient Greek society as more powerful than Roman women, and then extend this belief to their goddesses—but let’s not get too hasty. Yes, Hera, Aphrodite and Athena were more involved and active outside the domestic sphere than their Roman counterparts Juno, Venus, and Minerva, relatively speaking. BUT—let’s be completely clear about this!— none of the Roman goddesses were exactly 1950s suburban housewives! Not even Vesta, both the goddess of the hearth and a fierce protector! The Greek and Roman goddesses alike were strong women. No “Stepford Wives” here! In any case, it is much more correct to see Roman religion as a whole as more favorable than its Greek counterpart to the social stability of the state; the Romans likewise gave more value to home and family as the foundation of the state’s stability.

As a result, Roman society generally saw the true power of women as that of nurturers of the rising generations, who would perpetuate the Roman Empire. This domestic role went well beyond the “June Cleaver mommy” stereotype. Mothers who actively raised noble Roman sons capable of exercising wisdom and sound judgment in the power they held were particularly respected. So what constituted a “powerful woman” in Rome was the wisdom, capacity, and resources she was able to pass on to her own children—especially to her sons—and the wiser and stronger she could be, the better. Again, as the Romans saw it, motherhood was a position of power. This view of mothers as domestically powerful, however, is alien to the current constructs of mainstream Western feminism. (See the “Mommy wars” online for more information about that.) ( Moreover, since the so-called female “cult of domesticity” prevalent in post-war America superficially resembled the Roman ideal—but is far from parallel, on a more in-depth examination—the concept actually produces a fair amount of debate.

Still, in other cases, there is more gender-role divergence in the pantheon of other religions. Shinto in Japan, for instance, not only sees men and women as equal partners in the world, but as potentially divine equal partners in creation as well, since both men and women participated in creating the world. In addition, in a number of localized tribal religions— Hopi and Navajo , for instance, in the American context—there is a great degree of prominence given to women, where female deities such as Spider Woman are seen as the actual powerful creators, and women are given respect accordingly. Likewise, though the basic beliefs are rather different in Wicca , the social outcome for women is much the same, and the concept of “Goddess worship” in Wicca and the various traditions associated with paganism speaks to a sense of women’s religious and spiritual empowerment in those traditions. The women of these traditions certainly give birth to and raise children, but this makes them powerful creators in their own right rather than domestic servants of men.

The prevalence of these pro-feminist religious groups, along with the more recent political and social campaigns for gender equality, has resulted in more modern iterations of even the major American religious traditions opening the door more to women and female leadership. Many of the more liberal-minded Protestant denominations have ordained female clergy and leadership, where women make valued contributions, though a number of more conservative-oriented congregations continue to hold with the male-led leadership model. However, the Roman Catholic Church has resisted ordaining women to its priesthood, though some dissident groups have caused a stir by staging a number of female ordinations anyway.

In the religious context popularly known as “Mormon” (larger than the mainstream Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints), the “splinter group” Community of Christ (formerly the Reorganized LDS Church) ordains women to its priesthood, though many other splinter groups, including the Apostolic United Brethren and the FLDS sect, do not. As some of you probably know, the 16-million-plus mainstream church also doesn’t ordain women, though it offers them leadership roles within its Relief Society, arguably the world’s largest women’s organization, as well as the church’s Primary and Young Women groups as well as in mission leadership. Women in the mainstream organization also teach in many church contexts, and a new advisory position was recently created for women to counsel with the faith’s core leadership.

So, perhaps in part because of this, some additional theological considerations, and at least anecdotal evidence from many women in the church I know who say they see no need to take on even more work than they’re already doing, 😊 this does not exactly translate into a powerful groundswell of interest in female ordination. In fact, the authors of American Grace as well as polls by the Pew Research Center indicated around 2010 that the vast majority of LDS women—several studies claim around 90 percent—actually do not wish to be ordained. It’s unclear if and how much that number has changed since then.

Roughly mirroring this pattern, there’s a split in church feminists on this issue. Some have openly advocated ordaining women, including lawyer-activist Kate Kelly, who was excommunicated in the summer of 2014 for “conduct contrary to the laws and order of the Church,” according to the letter sent to her informing her of the decision. Presumably, the decision stemmed not only from her advocacy of women’s ordination but of her role in: a) planning and organizing a protest on Temple Square during the church’s April 2014 General Conference, though the actual protest was rather small and gained only scant media attention, and b) various efforts her local church leaders saw as deliberate attempts to lead others away from the church.

However, other church feminists, including Dr. Valerie Hudson-Cassler, point out the core irony of feminists asking men for power. They instead advocate that female church members explore the ways in which they already hold systemic and spiritual power, and then work to broaden their influence through those means. Dr. Hudson-Cassler has furthermore argued that the ordination issue is superfluous, since to her, women already have their own innate spiritual power that needs no male approval—it merely awaits discovery . (Please be aware that her article, which I find highly intriguing, still may require a fair amount of knowledge of the church’s belief, ceremony, and history to be properly understood.) In any case, the issue of women’s ordination remains complex and rather divisive in the church’s culture.

All in all, the relationship between women and religion is profound and multi-dimensional. For those interested in exploring the issue further, see the Religion and Gender online journal , which appears promising, especially in terms of exploring and interrelating the many dimensions involved in this issue. The journal sometimes publishes special editions focusing on various aspects of religion and gender.

American Grace discusses a long-standing relationship of tension between religion and sexuality; near the other side of the ideological spectrum, Michel Foucault argues in The History of Sexuality that religion has always had a vested interest in regulating sexual behavior. In any case, a close look at the historical record clearly shows that religion has often had a great deal to say about how adherents should practice sexuality. It is little secret that religious rules have long existed that proscribe particular types of sexual behavior, particularly in the Judeo-Christian and Islamic contexts, though virtually all major world religions have had codes of sexual morality.

For instance, the religious law of the ancient Hebrews, reflecting practices seen today in modern conservative and orthodox forms of Judaism (and later in Christianity), reserved sexuality for the marital relationship between man and woman, where sex was seen as sacred. Their law also forbade homosexuality and other forms of sexual expression outside male-female married relationships. This soon put them at odds with their neighbors. The Old Testament chronicles a long struggle between the early Hebrews and other native “Canaanite” tribes over religious and political matters, including substantial differences in sexual practice—notably sexual behavior that was not only condoned but actually featured in the native tribes’ religious worship. This was generally denounced by the Hebrew leaders as offensive to God as part of a blanket condemnation of “idolatry,” though according to the biblical record, a fair number of Hebrews indulged in these practices from time to time despite their religious laws and accordingly received retribution.

This tension between sexuality and belief has remained constant over time in many world religions, though the actual substance of the rules has often varied according to time and context. For instance, Islam, like ancient Hebrew culture, reserves sex for male-female married relationships, thereby forbidding homosexuality and other practices seen as deviant. Incidentally, there are reports of localized pedophiliac practices in some areas of the Middle East, including the rape of young boys in Taliban-dominated areas. There is no known rationale under shari’a law for this. To complicate the issue, a few clerics do believe Muhammad married a child in his old age and have likewise argued that shari’a (in their view) may permit “child brides”—though many other Muslims, of course, disagree. In any case, Islam remains a complicated, diverse identity sphere with many conflicting and some debated elements.

In other religious contexts, ancient Hinduism saw sexuality in terms of quasi-religious devotion, as embodied in the Kamasutra, though heterosexuality was clearly the established norm; homosexuality, however, was not religiously proscribed in Hinduism. Even more intriguingly, the story of sexuality within Buddhism is highly complex and sometimes varied by time period and cultural context, leading to a fair amount of modern disagreement. But in general, Buddhism established rules against illicit sexual behavior for men and women alike and discouraged licentiousness in any form. Most major world religions have various rules governing sexual behavior in any case.

In terms of the Western world, the ancient Greeks were rather sexually open; not only was Aphrodite the goddess of “love” in essentially all the socially constructed senses of the term, but Zeus and other gods had a long history of sexual dalliances with mortals, as fans of Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson novels and subsequent series know well. ( The Greeks also rather famously embraced homosexuality, whether between lesbians—the word itself is derived from the Greek island of Lesbos—or between adult men and even at various times between adult men and younger boys. However, even within this context, uncontrolled eros or expression of sexuality was still frowned upon. Despite the somewhat “do your own thing” reputation of ancient Greece, it was never acceptable to simply act upon unrestrained sexual impulse or exercise sexual violence upon another fellow Greek.

The Romans, like many other cultures, were more sexually restrained by comparison to the Greeks. Of course, however, sexuality was certainly also far from unknown in Rome. It was simply more channeled and structured. As Venus was—relatively—more domestic and matronly than Aphrodite, so was Roman society more structurally friendly to a more organized form of family life, a more or less traditional form led by the paterfamilias, the oldest living male. The paterfamilias was firmly in charge of the Roman family structure, leading out on matters ranging from child discipline to arranged marriages. Homosexuality—though not unknown and presumably not punished in Rome—was less prevalent and celebrated relative to Greek culture. Furthermore, as Christianity became more prevalent in the later Roman era, especially as the two cultures intermingled three centuries after the death of Jesus Christ, Roman culture gradually took on the religious values of Hellenized Christianity before that culture came preeminent in the Western world.

In any case, sexuality and religion’s role in governing its expression is clearly relevant to our modern discourse. Not only has there been a fair amount of controversy about sexuality in the American context itself, most notably including the previously mentioned Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints religious practice of plural marriage in the mid-to-late 1800s and its ongoing continuation by splinter groups, but sexual controversy has been ongoing ever since. There had been something of a preliminary “Sexual Revolution” in the 1920s and ‘30s with the advent of “flappers,” American film that included fare from Mae West innuendo to outright pornography (generally produced and shown in secret before “The Sixties”), and other changes in popular culture.

Beyond that—and the authors of American Grace cover this in the excerpt on Canvas—we saw an outright “Sexual Revolution” in the late 1960s and early ‘70s, in which premarital sexual behavior became more widely accepted in society as a whole. Though far from everyone in America participated in the anti-war protests, counter-cultural celebrations, and so forth, the results rippled outwards and gradually influenced all of American society. The core issue of the “Sexual Revolution” was not necessarily the presence of premarital sex. This has been present all through our known history, not only among the Puritans themselves but even (as our current nostalgia suggests) in the supposedly squeaky-clean post-war America of the 1940s and ‘50s. However, “The Sixties” gave us the widespread acceptance of premarital sex as a social norm.

Moreover, currently, we may well be undergoing a second Sexual Revolution in terms of homosexuality, which was seen by most people throughout most of the 20th century as deviant but is now becoming normalized along with the issue of gay marriage. See the June 2015 Obergefell v. Hodges Supreme Court decision affirming gay marriage for more details. Yet, despite the ruling (which was vehemently disputed in several justices’ dissenting opinions), religion’s role in this issue remains debated. But the battlefields remain somewhat disjointed, as traditionalists continue to argue against homosexuality and gay marriage on religious grounds while its proponents claim legal and philosophical grounds of equality and anti-discrimination. Regardless, the issue seems far from settled, to say the least. Also, the even more recent rise of the discourse of transgender rights and the variation of gender are opening up the discourse of sexuality and variation to even wider levels. See the marriage and family Lesson 6 subtopic for more discussion of these complex issues.

Despite individuals’ stances on these issues—or perhaps better said, because of them—sexuality and its regulation remains highly controversial, whether in the field of religion or secular philosophy. Hence, religion’s role in this process of sexual regulation and the resulting conflict is well worth examining. Some resources on this issue for further reading and information include "Sexuality and Fertility" from the Hartford Seminary , this 2008 study at Santa Clara University involving how directly faith informs sexual attitudes and behaviors among a group of religious university students, and resources located at The Claremont School of Theology's Center for Sexuality, Gender, and Religion .

Social Class and the Economy

To begin to wrap it all up, just a few words about the relationship of social class and the economy to religion. As we read up front in the quote at the top of the lesson, Max Weber’s Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism analyzed this longstanding relationship more than a century ago. Weber’s main findings in that study, partially quoted at the top, noted that capitalism, especially in early America, depended on a sort of ethos that was derived from Protestantism. Think in terms of Benjamin Franklin’s Poor Richard’s Almanac, if you will:

· A penny saved is a penny earned,

· A stitch in time saves nine,

· If you'd be wealthy, think of saving more than of getting: The Indies have not made Spain rich, because her Outgoes equal her Incomes.

· Up, sluggard, and waste not life; in the grave will be sleep enough.

· Genius without Education is like Silver in the Mine.

· The thrifty maxim of the wary Dutch / Is to save all the money they can touch.

· Haste makes Waste.

· Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.

Underlying those maxims, and many more, from the somewhat ironically named Poor Richard is an underlying ethos of economy and judicious management practice. Weber contends that this ethos is derived from America’s early Protestant history, which encouraged saving and thrift—as opposed to more modern consumer spending—as well as the wise use of time and resources. In the Protestant view, according to Weber, wealth was seen as a “blessing” or gift from God that could be used to do good, and so it needed to be treated with respect and used conscientiously and with the utmost care. Some Judeo-Christian religious groups have historically feared wealth itself—that is, before Andrew Carnegie’s Gospel of Wealth in 1889 , and the even more recent advent of “ The Prosperity Gospel ”—which, importantly, should NOT be seen as the same thing!—but many others have seen value in having the resources and avoiding “greed,” or love of the resources rather than God.

Not only this, but work itself was seen as a divine principle—the believer’s way of helping God do God’s work. God created the believers for a particular purpose, including one’s skills, abilities, and ultimately life’s work. In the Protestant Ethic perspective, God gave people gifts and resources to both work and to help others, so if a believer could be wealthy, this would develop his (or her) generosity to help others—life’s ultimate purpose. Hence, to find that purpose and life’s work was to participate in harmony with God. So work, to the believer, was not only a job or profession, but an actual “calling” from God.

Thus, believers would work at their life’s callings, saving money and amassing wealth for the glory of God, allowing a tremendous amount of capital and business to be built up. Weber thereby established a clear link between religion and economic considerations, one that has been confirmed by numerous observations since then. The optional Lincoln reading is merely one of those, in which religious believers feel the need to use their surplus means to take care of others, or simply just donate resources they feel they don’t need to charity. Moreover, as particular religious believers gained sufficient wealth, social class and status became core considerations in religious life as well. However, as pointed out in the Schwadel reading, it’s important not to make too much of this observation; his conclusion is that contemporary Christian congregations tend to be more diverse in terms of social status than they are in terms of race. This is partly because religious congregations are still spatially located in particular areas, within which is a variety of socio-economic strata.

But back to a key point about the Protestant Ethic. Significantly, these ideals and expectations, which Weber saw among the Puritans and Separatists (among others), did not remain exclusively religious, but passed into the secular culture as well, where it took root. As a result, even when these sects died out, the overall ethos of the Protestant Ethic remained entrenched in the capitalist culture of North America. Though many of the secularized American capitalists were no longer working for the glory of God, they still saved money, used their resources wisely, and remained devoted to their careers, whether or not they realized where the ethos came from. Although our modern version of capitalism has gradually drifted to a form of consumerism, many of the same impulses remain: To save, to use resources wisely, and to devote extensive amounts of time and energy to one’s work.

It is in this light that we can consider the contemporary American relationship between religion, economy, and social class. Often, religion suggests our relationship to the material world around us. Most religions oppose materialism per se, or at least the greed associated with it, although they diverge on exactly how to recognize and deal with materialism. Some mistrust wealth in all forms, seeing money and resources as necessary evils; others see wealth as a blessing from God. Yet others see wealth not necessarily as a divine gift but more of a divine trust that allows them to be able to help the less fortunate. (This was the main idea behind Carnegie’s Gospel of Wealth.) These encourage gaining wealth in order to do good for others and allow and encourage the believer to be generous. As part of their teachings about materialism and their recommended approach, they address the issues of social class, which virtually by definition is inequitable.

History has seen a handful of attempts to directly address that inequity, such as in various attempts to pool and share resources among a community of believers. Despite current political rhetoric from some quarters, capitalism isn’t necessarily divinely ordained; the religious world has at various times explored a number of alternatives in order to try to resolve the chronic problem of poverty. For instance, according to the New Testament Book of Acts (4:32), the early Christian community “had all things common.” This experiment was echoed in the 19th century American Transcendental communal social experiment of George Ripley’s Brook Farm as well as the early Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints’ practice of the United Order . (Which technically took the form of multiple “orders,” as people in various communities tended to pool resources together by their location rather than routing those resources through a centralized clearinghouse and so forth.) These two efforts and others in early Transcendental America attempted to practice a different and more equitable economic model than capitalism. So within religion, there have been efforts to reform the actual economic structure.

More common in post-Civil-War America, however, was the view of wealth as a divine trust. The Social Gospel was a key part of the context. Emerging from the preaching of Walter Rauschenbusch and others featured on this link , this movement came about as pastors in the Northern states became horrified by conditions that new immigrants were forced to endure, particularly in New York City and Chicago. It was also a reaction against the Social Darwinism of the Gilded Age, or (in brief) the idea that the richest and most successful men were the most fit to run society. The Social Gospel encouraged sharing wealth to do good for others instead of merely building wealth for power’s sake, inspiring a wave of humanitarian efforts that prospered alongside the Robber Barons, such as Jane Addams and Hull House in Chicago. By 1890, as previously referenced, Andrew Carnegie’s Gospel of Wealth came on board. Though not strictly a devotee of the Social Gospel per se, Carnegie (at one point the richest man in America) took capitalism for granted and simply affirmed that those who amassed vast quantities of wealth in turn faced a divine obligation to share it.

Over the years that have followed, this Social Gospel/Gospel of Wealth ethos has since been secularized as philanthropy. Modern magnates such as Bill Gates, Warren Buffett, and others who have signed on to “The Giving Pledge” (a modern secular echo of The Gospel of Wealth) have donated sums from vast fortunes—most not necessarily out of divine conviction, but in pursuit of tax deductions or for more directly practical reasons. Buffett, for instance, simply didn’t believe he would do his descendants any favors, to say the least, by handing down his entire fortune to them. Even more intriguingly, there is the curious case of Chuck Feeney , a somewhat reclusive American-born billionaire who quickly amassed a fortune in Japan’s economic boom of the 1960s. For reasons that remain unclear, he vowed to give every cent of it away to quality causes well before he died and spent much of his time researching where his donations would do the most good. Citing only a vague notion that “people who have money have an obligation [to do good with it],” Feeney’s actions also parallel a more secular Carnegie approach. In September 2020, reports broke that Feeney had accomplished his goal of, well, being broke.

Also as previously mentioned, in more recent years the Prosperity Gospel has taken root, with those subscribing to it proclaiming that riches are a blessing to God’s faithful and thus a sign of God’s favor. ( An interesting take on the Prosperity Gospel from NPR here. ) Through church income, publishing royalties, speaking fees, and other sources of revenue, pastors such as Joel Osteen, Paula White, and Kenneth Copeland have made literal millions from their preaching and other products. This development also made it possible to argue that Donald Trump was chosen by God because of his riches, and many Christian believers have accepted that argument.

In any case, in the modern American context, the capitalist economic structure is considered firmly established, and despite some remnants of the Social Gospel, religions today generally don’t seek to challenge this social norm. Accordingly, most modern American and even world religions, like Carnegie, take the issue of social class for granted and seek to resolve the inequities of capitalism on the ground, as in the case of Mother Teresa and others, or seek wealth as a sign of God’s favor, as in the Prosperity Gospel. Regardless, capitalism resonates in the current political and religious marketplace largely because it is associated with the rhetoric of freedom. The free North American political marketplace has also allowed for the amassing of copious amounts of wealth, to extents unheard of even in the Gilded Age.

Still, however, difficulties persist, as religions grapple not only with the historic problem of poverty but with the corresponding prevalence of greed, materialism, and power. The dedication to capitalism gives rise to a curiously ironic inversion of the Golden Rule—those who have the gold make the rules—as well as the normalization of a consumer culture that risks additional problems for religious belief and practice. Questions abound involving alternative economic forms—particularly socialism, long the bugbear of capitalism. For instance, some ask, is unbridled capitalism (sometimes referred to as capitalism without a soul), as Ayn Rand depicts in her novels The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, still really any better than socialism? Does our American experience with the late 19th century “robber barons” (AKA “captains of industry”) have any relevance to that question? But in any case, religion, economic factors, and social class are all interlinked, particularly in the North American cultural context, and religion seems to be surviving despite the challenges.

And with all that, let’s end! I look forward to reading your comments in Assignment 4!

America’s Hero or Dangerous Don? For better or worse, 2016 saw the election of Donald Trump, who polarized American politics and gathered a loyal throng of devotees who supported him, er, religiously. Curiously, Trump won then and continued to persist despite defying many of the traditional “rules” of American political discourse. He also openly appealed to some historical sympathies of Christian religious voters despite not being religious himself, and showed little support for other religious identities—even proposing an immigration ban on Muslims coming to America during his campaign. The ongoing relationship of religion and politics and the paradoxes presented during the presidency were hallmarks of the Trump administration. All culminated in Trump’s loss to Joe Biden in 2020 despite continual protests from Trump that he had actually won and devout near-religious belief by some Trump enthusiasts that their hero would ultimately be proven the winner and retain the Oval Office. Image from people.com.

The Election of 2016 spawned a great many social media memes reflecting profound political cynicism, including this image credited to kkwalker.

Past U.S. presidents George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, and Abraham Lincoln are memorialized on Mt. Rushmore. What is the significance of this in terms of Robert Bellah’s concept of an American “civil religion”? Image from � HYPERLINK "http://www.religionlink.com/tip_090204.php" �www.religionlink.com�.

French painter François-Auguste Biard depicted the slave trade in the early 1830s. Image from Wikimedia Commons.

A pictorial representation of hozho that clearly represents the sense of interconnected balance and harmony. Image from rootsandwingsfoundation.blogspot.com.

One representation of the traditional Christian origin myth of Adam, Eve, and the Serpent/Devil, along with the expulsion from the Garden of Eden. Image from � HYPERLINK "https://perswww.kuleuven.be/~u0010542/theory/sin.html" \t "_blank" �perswww.kuleuven.be�.

A depiction of the Shinto creation story, as male and female deities work together to create the Earth. Image from � HYPERLINK "http://www.makethelist.net/the-top-10-deities-in-shinto-mythology/" �www.makethelist.net�.

A Navajo artist’s tribute to the creator goddess Spider Woman, who also taught her people to farm and to weave cloth. She is sometimes shown as agelessly young and other times as old and wise. Image from the Jesse Lee Project.

“The Sixties”—actually from about 1966-75—was a time of counter-culture protest against the Vietnam War, consumerism, and various existing norms of American life, including many relevant to sexuality. Image from bizpacreview.com.

Jane Addams, humanitarian founder of Chicago’s Hull House in the late 19th century. Image from iipdigital.usembassy.gov.