Catalyst for Harmony is hosting an event with guest author Michael Emerson on Thursday, January 30th. Emerson wrote seminal books about racial division and the pursuit of unity in the church (Divided by Faith and United by Faith). A new book co-authored with Glenn Bracey, “The Religion of Whiteness,” was published last year, and we’ll discuss it that evening.
I understand that a title like this is provocative. When it comes to talking about racial issues in the Church, terms such as White Privilege, White Supremacy, White Fragility, or White _________ are used, responses are often visceral. There’s either instant accord and enthusiasm or instant discord and apathy or hostility. I rarely use these terms when discussing issues of racial harmony because they are so emotionally loaded, misunderstood by some, and ubiquitously applied by others. Given such dynamics, how would a discussion about the religion of whiteness promote racial harmony?
The answer lies in the title of this post, “Pondering: Conflating Religions.” I am unashamedly a believer in Jesus and desire to follow him faithfully. A belief or faith in God and its associated practices are most often what people think of when they think of religion. Of course, there are many religions in the world today, such as Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism. These are not the conflating religions that I’m referring to here. I’m referring to what I call “operational religions.” These are sets of beliefs and
practices that are commingled with a traditional understanding of religion, in this case, Christianity “Operational religions” are an assembly of beliefs and practices deemed faithful and essential but are nontheistic (not involving a belief in a god). An innocuous example of an operational belief might be describing someone who “follows the Green Bay Packers religiously,” which implies hating all the other teams (I’m joking, sort of). In some circles of Packer fans, liking another team is viewed as compromising loyalty and betraying the Packer faithful. Though some may have an operational religion of NFL
team loyalty, it would be obvious, nonsensical, and absurd to conflate it with Christianity, no matter which team it is. However, the beliefs and practices of the operational religions are sometimes melded with Christianity. They are not readily visible, but when conflated with Christianity, they distort authentic Christianity. Which begs the question “Who’s to say what authentic Christianity is?” That’s a good and important question.
Operational religions are often so persuasive and engrained that they are usually unnoticeable from within. Instead, their conflation with Christianity is considered biblically accurate and objective. This then becomes declared as authentic Christianity. However, when another person doesn’t hold the same operational religion, it is readily apparent that something has been commingled with authentic Christianity. Those outside of that operational religion likewise fail to recognize their own infused
operational religion, different as it may be. In reality, no one comes to biblical understanding and the practice of authentic Christianity from a neutral place. Geographical, relational, cultural, and political contexts, life experiences, and trauma cultivate operational religions that are melded with Christianity. Operational religions are invisible from within and transparent from without.
The book explores the operational religion of whiteness, which is not about being white in and of itself. Grievously, there are still vestiges of people who hold an ideology that being white is superior as an operational religion. Historically, that operational religion produced copious amounts of racism and gruesome violence. It was conflated with
Christianity, and the Church was complicit in great evils. In our world today, the overwhelming majority of whites would condemn such and outright condemn those who hold it to be true. So, what is the “religion of whiteness, and where does it come from?”
I believe it’s a cultural lens and view that is reinforced, often unknowingly, when relationships are largely mono-ethnic. This is changing in the emerging generation, but the longstanding relational distance between ethnicities and cultures creates silos of
operational religions that amplify distorted beliefs and perspectives. These then are elevated to a status of accurate and true. Combined with Christianity, they become solidified as righteousness when not contested by other perspectives. This human
vulnerability is not unique to white people; it is true of any ethnic or cultural group. This is true of political affiliations that are reinforced by polarization. This is true of philosophical convictions. It is true of any social group and is amplified by echo chambers. These dynamics cultivate operational religions. Whiteness is just one of those operational religions. Blackness is another. Politically, there are religions of conservatism and progressivism that nearly deify those leaders who agree with their operational religion and demonizing those who don’t.
An examination of the religion of whiteness is not a coded phrase that means all white people are racist. That’s part of an emotional knee-jerk response when “white religion” or “white ________” is used. A similar negative emotional response is likely felt when
seeing the phrase “religion of blackness.” The emotive responses are predictable, understandable, and even normal. This is especially true in a pervasive “innocence/guilt” worldview that we are immersed in as residents of America, where our key cultural driver is to be innocent at all costs. More on that another time.
Do we see any such example in the Bible? Yes! In Genesis and Exodus, a famine brings the Pharaoh of Egypt and a Hebrew shepherd together. A plan was designed to endure the famine, relational bonds were formed, and Egyptians and Hebrews flourished together. When the original relationships and bonds faded, separation became the lived reality, and the Egyptians cultivated a “religion of Egyptian-ness” that saw the Hebrews as “other.” Their disdain for the Hebrews grew and was then amplified by relational isolation. Eventually, the strengthening of the operational religion led to a justification of brutal treatment of the Hebrew people, enslaving them for 400 years. Author Kyle Haselden writes, “Where elbows touch, and hearts do not, the opportunities for malice and violence are greatly multiplied.” This was the case here and it happens whenever groups live in proximity but relative relational isolation. We are not immune to this.
While the Hebrews likely developed a religion of Hebrew-ness that may have led to similar feelings of disdain and acts of brutality, there was a significant difference. The Egyptians were the dominant culture, not just because there were more of them (although that may not have been the case with a rapidly increasing Hebrew population). They had an established government with access to more material resources, education, and military strength. They had disproportionate influence because of the power they acquired and possessed.
Operational religions do not die easily. Haselden writes, “Racial customs, even when they are cut off from original sources, have a self-contained momentum. They are like freely moving bodies in space: once they are set in motion they continue indefinitely until they meet a friction which exhausts their momentum or are opposed by an equal and counteracting force.” The operational religion of Egyptian-ness was eventually confronted with friction (God moving through Moses and others) which forced them to reexamine it. After much pain and resentment, they reluctantly relented when their powerful hold over the Hebrews was broken. Though the bondage of slavery had come to an end, I wonder how long their disdain continued.
Historically, in America, the operational religion of whiteness was steeply conflated with the government. This, coupled with cumulative possession of power, had devastating results, including gruesome violence and the enslavement of people. Not only was this upheld lawfully, but because it was also conflated with the Church, it was heralded as righteousness and deemed God’s preferred social order. Frederick Douglass seeing this travesty wrote, “I love the pure, peaceable, and impartial Christianity of Christ; I therefore hate the corrupt, slaveholding, women-whipping, cradle-plundering, partial, and hypocritical Christianity of this land. Indeed, I can see no reason, but the most deceitful one, for calling the religion of this land Christianity. I look upon it as the climax of all misnomers, the boldest of all frauds, and the grossest of all libels.”
Learning about and considering our operational religions humbly aids in the path toward racial harmony. The most populous, wealthy, and powerful social group inevitably develops an operational religion with a disproportionate influence because societal life is customized to their perspectives and norms. It takes intentional effort to recognize how it functions and find a better balance. An example would be teaching the history of the post-WWII era residential boom in America’s suburbs but neglecting to teach about the discrimination that resulted in a comparative sliver of access to the benefits of the GI Bill for nonwhites who served in the military. Teaching history most often becomes the story of the dominant culture. In our country’s cultural landscape, an operational religion of whiteness has had a significant and overbearing influence on American society. Revisiting history and teaching it holistically is not revisionist, it is a truer history.
Learning to examine operational religions and extracting their unhealthy conflation with Christianity is both difficult and necessary. Operational religions don’t die easily or quickly, so the religion of whiteness still has disproportional influence today, though far less than it used to. Yet it would be disingenuous and untrue to say it’s the only operating religion that needs to be examined and its unhealthy conflation with Christianity extracted. Given our shared human vulnerability, everyone’s operational religion(s) must be examined and refined, and this is done best when it is done together. We must do so if we are going to move forward to greater oneness and unity in the Body of Christ. This mutuality in relationships is not a one-way street. However we would serve one another well if we all followed a one-way Jesus-like ethic. When mutuality is combined with humility, a better understanding of authentic Christianity emerges and a closer practice of authentic Jesus-like disciples ensues. We need each other to see God the way he is and see others the way he does. When we do this, we love one another better, and the world will know we belong to Jesus.
Christians are being watched, and the world sees distorted impressions of Jesus resulting from the conflating operational religions. It doesn’t look like much like Jesus at all, but something other, with a little Jesus sprinkled on top. Our fellow neighbors, near and far, in-person and online, are witness to our hypocrisy, our selective anger, and our exaggerations. They see a readiness to be silent, gracious, and forgiving to those aligned with our operational religion, and the eagerness to disparage, condemn, and cast out those who don’t. For this to be true in the Church, where we often hold the same essential beliefs about Jesus, his life, and his resurrection is beyond troubling.
I think there is a yearning to see what abiding in Jesus is truly like. I fear the revealed image is such a clouded distortion of Jesus that it makes him nearly unrecognizable. I believe this breaks God’s heart and ought to break ours. May it compel us to consider what our operational religions are and do the hard work of untangling them from Christianity—myself included.
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author, and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
Hebrews 12:1–2 (NIV84)
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