During the world war years of the early twentieth century, new African American religious movements emerged that emphasized black heritage identities. Among these were Rabbi Wentworth Arthur Matthew's Congregation of Commandment Keepers (Jewish) and “Noble” Drew Ali's Moorish Science Temple of America (Islamic). Unlike African American religions of the previous century, these religious communities distinctly captured the ethos of ethnicity (cultural heritage) that pervaded American social consciousness at the time. Their central message of salvation asserted that blacks were an ethnic people distinguished not by superficial phenotype but by membership in a heritage that reached far beyond the bounds of American history and geography. The academic study of these religions has largely moved from dismissal and cynicism to serious engagement with African American Jews and Muslims as veritable forms of religion. Despite this progress among scholars, some recent studies continue to deny that Matthew’s and Ali's communities were authentically Jewish and Islamic (respectively). When scholars dispense with theological or racial biases that bifurcate religions into ‘true’ and ‘false’ forms, the study of these black ethnic religions might best yield important insights for understanding the linkage among ethnicity, the nation-state, and religion. The religious reasoning of Matthew and Ali produced resourceful, complicated challenges to dominant colonial and racist paradigms for understanding agency and history. Their theology is appropriately discerned not as illusion, hybridity, or confusion but as thoughtful anticolonial expressions of Judaism and Islam that sought inclusion and honor through black ethnicity. At a time when African Americans were viewed as cultureless and without any legacy of inheritance except the deformities of slavery, the rise of black ethnics introduced religious traditions that demonstrated blacks were indeed a people with heritage.

Between 1890 and 1920 in the United States, Protestant ministers demonstrated increasing concern for boys between the ages of twelve and eighteen. In particular, they described a two-fold “boy problem,” defined both in terms of heightened juvenile delinquency and passive effeminacy. This essay analyzes one of the chief ways in which church leaders attempted to combat these issues: the development of Christian boy ministries rooted in the stories and themes of medieval knighthood. Looking at the use of such themes in Protestant literature and in new church organizations such as the Knights of King Arthur and the Knights of the Holy Grail, this article reveals why medievalism had such power and resonance in this era. In part, the symbolic use of the Middle Ages fit well with emerging psychological theories of adolescent development. According to G. Stanley Hall and other proponents of racial recapitulation, adolescent boys were instinctually driven by a need to join their medieval forebears in fighting battles, worshiping heroes, and forming romantic relationships marked by love and chivalry. In addition, the medieval knight emerged as the ideal exemplar for dealing with both aspects of the early twentieth-century boy problem. While boys struggled with moral decadence and effeminate weakness, knights were both morally refined and confidently virile. In the end, I argue that the proliferation of medieval themes in this period reflected a growing consensus regarding the “ideal Christian man.” While uncontrolled masculine expression produced the violent man, and the suppression of masculine expression produced the weak man, carefully channeled masculine expression would produce the “knightly” man, the ideal “Christian gentleman” capable of pursuing purity and virtue through manly and aggressive means.

This article explores the ways rural followers of Marcus Garvey crafted and adapted a theological understanding of African redemption in the South during the 1920s and early 1930s. Members of the Universal Negro Improvement Association rarely spoke in concrete terms about the process of redemption or African state-building. Rather, when rural members talked of African redemption, they did so in eschatological terms, that is, as a theory of the end of the world. Above all else, they understood “redemption” to mean both their own individual salvation and the collective deliverance of black people. Their interpretations ranged from postmillennial visions of a climax of the history of the race bringing earthly peace and prosperity to a premillennial interpretation that plotted sudden, often violent, deliverance of the most race-conscious. These variant and seemingly contradictory readings of African redemption reveal an ontological shift among black Christians in the rural South during these years. African redemption provided rural Garveyites an existential language for reappraising notions of redemption, retribution, and the fate of the race in this world and the next that had profound implications for ongoing efforts to seek political and economic justice. This struggle over meaning and purpose lay at the very heart of rural black politics in this period as both an ideological constraint and a vehicle for innovation.

As one of the first nonessential commodities marketed to African Americans, the race record industry provides historical insight into the cultural ethos and competing ethical values of black communities during the interwar period. Both ethnomusicologists and historians have discussed the ways race records articulate intraracial conflicts that were exacerbated by social factors such as migration and urbanization. But like all forms of mass culture, religious records served multiple purposes and were interpreted by listeners at varying registers. For many, religious recordings were spiritually edifying and liberating, just as they were wildly entertaining. And some may feel that these religious recordings contested the aesthetic values of the black middle class even as they reinforced prescriptive bourgeois behavioral codes. While the purpose of this essay is not to give voice to the listeners of religious race records, this essay does offer an initial attempt to illumine the broader cultural contexts in which these records, namely, recorded sermons, were both produced and consumed toward providing tenable interpretations of these recordings based on resonant religious beliefs and meanings of the historical moment. This essay is concerned with such questions as: What theological and political discourses were these preachers participating in on wax? What cultural symbols, explicit and implicit, did these preachers commonly reference? And what were the possible ideological implications of these cultural significations? Despite the many interpretive possibilities of recorded sermons and even the “folk” aesthetic that defines them, this essay suggests that the religious race record industry served as a productive force in encouraging systems of social control over raced, classed, and gendered bodies during the interwar era. And the industry’s decision to focus on theologically conservative sermons stressing personal piety cast a powerful ballot in the cultural debates concerning the style, content, and purpose of black preaching in the previous century.

This article employs an in-depth examination of 1950s confessional Lutherans and Congregationalists in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, to argue that the roots of the late-twentieth-century “culture wars” can be found at the local level in Americans’ response to the international and domestic challenges that arose during and after World War II rather than in the 1970s rise of a politically active Religious Right. The fight against Nazi and Soviet totalitarianism, along with the postwar struggle for racial equality, forced Americans to redefine the moral principles for which their nation stood. The result was the development of broad-based, intradenominational divisions between those who argued that individuals should accommodate themselves to prevailing religious, political, and socioeconomic structures and those who urged the accommodation of these structures to the needs of diverse individuals. This new religious alignment turned less on denominationally specific tribal, liturgical, and theological differences than on polarized understandings of the sacred and the secular.

This realignment operated on two planes. On the right, the Missouri Synod joined other denominations, such as the founders of the National Association of Evangelicals, in attempting to overcome sectarian strife among orthodox believers and to inject their religious faith into the public discourse. On the left, as Congregational proponents of faith-based social action and ecumenism helped to lay a foundation for liberal religion's leading role in the civil rights and antiwar movements of the 1960s and 1970s, they alienated more traditionalist members who viewed these activities as inappropriate for a religious institution.

In 1987, two women hatched a business plan that became Creative Memories, a direct-marketing company that sells scrapbook materials and techniques to a mostly female clientele through a worldwide network of sales consultants. By the beginning of the new millennium, millions of people had participated in Creative Memories workshops. Many successful imitators also flooded the crafting market with specialized publications, Web sites, tools, and materials, creating an industry worth $2.55 billion by 2004.

As significant as the economic impact of scrapbooking is, however, the claims of importance made by its practitioners rate closer examination. Promising to keep photos safe from deterioration, Creative Memories also sold a worldview, reflected across the industry, that such preservation is essential to human flourishing. Such a claim invites considerations both of how the promoters of memory-keeping envision its working and how memory-keepers themselves distinctively shape their practice. This article takes the view that album-making constitutes a kind of innovative female meaning-making (that is, religion) shaped, in part, by American-style Common Sense epistemology while also reflecting what we might call a sidelong feminism, in which a woman expresses agency, claims her voice, and declares the complexity of her full humanity, all by using modes that, on the surface, appear compliant with patriarchy. This article also uses certain notions of religious testimony to gauge the space between the Common Sense project of the album-making industry and the results produced by album-makers themselves.

Based on ethnographic research conducted in Pittsburgh, this article examines the experiences of American-born intermarriage converts to Eastern Orthodoxy. Long characterized as a variety of Christianity fundamentally ethnic in its orientation and insular in its relationships to American religious and cultural mainstreams, Eastern Orthodoxy has attracted increasing numbers of American-born converts over the last thirty years. While the motives and perspectives of more overtly theologically driven conversions have garnered attention, intermarriage conversions are often dismissed as the natural outcomes of entering into marriage and family life. Significantly, intermarriage converts frequently stress their decisions to enter the Orthodox church as autonomously made apart from external influences.

By gauging the ways intermarriage converts are depicted in parish life as well as the motives and perspectives they themselves convey in interviews, I argue that the language and assumptions of the American spiritual marketplace profoundly influence Orthodox Christian understandings of family and religion today. Personal choice and individualism rather than the expectations of traditionally ascribed identities have come to be highly valued and valorized means of counting Orthodox identity in the United States. Yet, the prevalence of marketplace values does not diminish the emotional and social impacts of family and community for intermarriage converts. Rather, I observed a general elevation in the importance of both and a frequent substantiation of their roles as the transmitters of shared values among these individuals. Thus, this article provides a case study of how individual and familial concerns further religious choice-making.