Michael O. Emerson and Glenn E. Bracey II have a provocative hypothesis. They propose that a majority of white Christians in American are believers in a different religion, a religion they call the “Religion of Whiteness” (ROW). This will be a thesis that many white Christians find hard to stomach, but the authors’ argument is not easily brushed aside, if for no other reason than the extensive stories in chapter 1 of African American Christians who have been hurt by their white Christian brothers and sisters.
Both a strength and a weakness (more on the weakness later) is the use of modern sociology to build the authors’ case. They resort to French sociologist Emile Durkheim’s phenomenological definition of religion, one found in his pace-setting Elementary Forms of Religious Life (1912), “a unified system of beliefs and practices relative to sacred things … beliefs and practices which unite into one single moral community … all those who adhere to them.” Power is derived, according to Durkheim, from the focus of the collective community.
The authors then claim that for ROW, the power at the center is whiteness.
Here the sociological method is key. First the authors define six core beliefs of ROW: a commitment to whiteness; God is on the side of the dominant group; whiteness is universal; the centrality of white understandings, values, theology, and actions; White Christian Nationalism; and Black inferiority.
From there, they define five core ROW practices: selective use of the Bible; the epistemology of ignorance; veneration of sacred symbols (in particular a white Jesus, merging of flag and cross, and firearms); actively protecting whiteness; and attacking any Christians who oppose ROW.
With these definitions and practices defined, the authors use a variety of sociological tools to investigate their claims: surveys, focus groups, behavior analysis, and individual interviews. Of course, if one does not trust these sociological methods, then it is easy to dismiss the existence of ROW.
One of their most straightforward and evocative arguments regards selective use of the Bible. They examined this by using a survey. They first asked a group (composed of white, Black, and Hispanic practicing Christians) if they believed the Bible should be used to determine what is right and wrong. Then using the group that answered “always,” they asked another series of question. The first was a baseline question about the use of swear words. All three groups strongly agreed that swearing was wrong (52-55%).
They then were asked three questions that related to questions about race and ethnicity. For example, one question arose from the story in Nehemiah in which the prophet confesses not only his sins but the sins of his nation and his ancestors. The group was asked if it was good for them to confess their sins, their nation’s sins, and the sins of their ancestors. Of the practicing Black and Hispanic Christians, 55 percent and 56 percent, agreed strongly, while only 40 percent of the practicing white Christians agreed strongly. The results were similar for the other two questions.
Focus groups and interviews further fleshed out this difference with a strong case that the white practicing Christians were indeed selective in their approach to the Bible. The authors admit that their work is not proof of ROW’s existence, but it raises troubling questions, which a white practicing Christian should take seriously.
By its nature, sociology can only tell what is—it cannot tell what should be. This is a work that decidedly falls into the category of religious studies, not theology. Such a phenomenological study, using these methods, cannot, by its nature, tell us how to move away from ROW and back to a Christianity that reclaims Paul: “there is neither Jew nor Greek.”
From a theological perspective, the analysis here does not address a core issue for Christians. Many of these sociological insights may be augmented by theological reflection. The most obvious example is that Christians have a word for a practice that focuses on and worships anything other than God: idolatry. If we approach these issues theologically, ROW reveals itself to be voracious with idols. And here perhaps the cross should come to the center of our attention. The cross reveals our spiritual pride but then the crucified messiah both makes peace for our sins and demands that those idols face their death.
But the theological concept of idolatry is not the only area in which sociological insights could find augmentation. There is also the theological concept of reconciliation. The authors highlight that some white Christians assume African American Christians should merely forgive. This assumption, the authors write, is harmful. The authors are right to highlight the harm, but what is the solution?
From a theological vantage, to understand forgiveness requires certain theological convictions about sacrifice, grace, mercy, and supernatural change. The posture of asking forgiveness involves humility and an openness, empowered by an active and merciful God. These are profoundly spiritual and theological categories. White Christians would do well to consider what they are actually asking. Among other things, this puts the question of reparations in a very different light.
Yet another area in which sociological insights might be augmented by theological reflection is the subject of spiritual warfare. If one believes there are forces that transcend the material realm of cause and effect, then one must be ready for an attack that comes from that source. If the authors are correct, ROW is an anti-human system, and then its ultimate source will likely transcend humanity.
This book is recommended to the practicing white Christian who is open to the required self-examination. It will not scratch the surface of the serious and uncritical ROW practitioner. Yet real change will need theological categories. The analysis will not be enough to cause much change until, like the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s (which some have called the “Third Great Awakening”), it takes more seriously the deep spiritual issue lurking in corners.
When Charlie and his wife arrived in Colorado Springs in the mid to late 1990s, they joined an Episcopal church. Living in the South, with a Baptist church on every corner, Charlie was a Lutheran. Now living in Minnesota, with a Lutheran church on every corner, he is an Episcopalian.
