The Routledge Handbook of Religion and Cities 2020031878, 9780367367121, 9780367653149, 9780429351181

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THE ROUTLEDGE HANDBOOK OF RELIGION AND CITIES

Like an ecosystem, cities develop, change, thrive, adapt, expand, and contract through the interaction of myriad components. Religion is one of those living parts, shaping and being shaped by urban contexts. The Routledge Handbook of Religion and Cities is an outstanding interdisciplinary reference source to the key topics, problems, and methodologies of this cuttingedge subject. Representing a diverse array of cities and religions, the common analytical approach is ecological and spatial. It is the first collection of its kind and reflects state-of-the-art research focusing on the interaction of religions and their urban contexts. Comprising 29 chapters, by a team of international contributors, the Handbook is divided into three parts: • • •

Research methodologies Religious frameworks and ideologies in urban contexts Contemporary issues in religion and cities

Within these sections, emerging research and analysis of current dynamics of urban religions are examined, including: housing, economics, and gentrification; sacred ritual and public space; immigration and the refugee crisis; political conflicts and social change; ethnic and religious diversity; urban policy and religion; racial justice; architecture and the built environment; religious art and symbology; religion and urban violence; technology and smart cities; the challenge of climate change for global cities; and religious meaning-making of the city. The Routledge Handbook of Religion and Cities is essential reading for students and researchers in religious studies and urban studies.The Handbook will also be very useful for those in related fields, such as sociology, history, architecture, urban planning, theology, social work, and cultural studies. Katie Day is the Charles A. Schieren Professor Emerita in Church and Society at United Lutheran Seminary, USA. Elise M. Edwards is Assistant Professor in the Department of Religion at Baylor University, USA.

THE ROUTLEDGE HANDBOOK OF RELIGION AND CITIES

Edited by Katie Day and Elise M. Edwards

First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park,Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 selection and editorial matter, Katie Day and Elise M. Edwards; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Katie Day and Elise M. Edwards to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Day, Katie, 1951- editor. | Edwards, Elise M., editor. Title:The Routledge handbook of religion and cities/edited by Katie Day and Elise M. Edwards. Description:Abingdon, Oxon; New York: Routledge, 2021. | Series: Routledge handbooks in religion | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Identifiers: LCCN 2020031878 | ISBN 9780367367121 (hardback) | ISBN 9780367653149 (paperback) | ISBN 9780429351181 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Cities and towns–Religious aspects. Classification: LCC BL65.C57 R68 2021 | DDC 200.9173/2–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020031878 ISBN: 978-0-367-36712-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-35118-1 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Deanta Global Publishing Services, Chennai, India

CONTENTS

List of figures List of contributors Foreword Richard Flory

ix xi xvii

1 Introduction Katie Day and Elise M. Edwards

1

PART I

Research methodologies

15

2 Studying religion and cities: emergent meanings and methodologies Katie Day

17

3 Ethnographic approaches: contextual religious cosmopolitanisms in Mumbai István Keul

35

4 Eyes upon the street: visual social scientific approaches to religion and the city Roman R.Williams and Timothy Shortell

48

5 Architectural analysis: approaching the study of religion and cities through the built environment Elise M. Edwards

67

v

Contents

6 Using Geographic Information Systems (GIS): mapping jhandis in Little Guyana Rupa Pillai 7 Infrastructure between anthropology, geography, and religious studies Isaiah Ellis

83 94

PART II

Religious frameworks and ideologies in urban contexts 8 Religion, culture, and urban space: Chicago and American religious history beyond 1893 Isaiah Ellis 9 Faith in the suburbs: evangelical Christian books about suburban life Brian J. Miller 10 Who defines the religious narrative for justice? The old guard meets the avant-garde in Nashville—the “it” city Teresa L. Smallwood 11 A feminist theo-ethic of justice-seeking-love for smart urbanites Samantha Cavanagh

105 107 119

136 153

12 (Irish) neoliberalism’s ruins: ghost and vacant properties as signposts of idolatry Kevin Hargaden

166

13 Religious buildings and ideological conflicts: broken religious sites and unbroken spatial attachments in Jos North, Nigeria Amidu Elabo

182

14 The ephemeral city: Indonesian piety on the move James Edmonds

198

15 Religious space in public art: the New Negro and the New Deal in Harlem Michael McLaughlin

209

16 The intersection of immigration, social conflict, and art: dance and identity in “East” Haifa Amanda Furiasse

221

vi

Contents

17 A liberation narrative of religious presence amid the protests: Hong Kong theology Tsz Him Lai

235

PART III

Contemporary issues in religion and cities

251

18 Religious agency in the dynamics of gentrification: moving in, moving out, and staying put in Philadelphia Kristin E. Holmes

253

19 Urban historic sacred places in transition: partners for sacred places Rachel Hildebrandt and Chad Martin

269

20 Praying with our feet: interfaith rituals of disruption and sanctification in the public square Linda Noonan

287

21 Community organizing and congregational agency in shaping city life Trey Hammond and Phil Tom

306

22 Discourse of faith and power:Turnaround Tuesday, a case study in Baltimore Isabella Cronin Favazza

319

23 Confederate monuments and the art of the Uprising: a hauntology of Baltimore Marcos Bisticas-Cocoves and Harold D. Morales

332

24 Protestant urban ministry and the “homosexual ghetto” in the 1960s Heather R.White

346

25 Newcomers, residents, and the dynamics of conflict: church, immigration, and the development of the city in Sweden Niclas Blåder

358

26 The Rohingya refugee crisis: religious identity as a source of expulsion, hospitality, and solidarity M Ala Uddin

372

vii

Contents

27 Super-diversity inside and outside of congregations in Elmhurst, Queens Richard Cimino and Hans Tokke 28 Religion and violence in the urban context Elfriede Wedam and Ryan SC Wong

388 405

29 Cities and the challenge of climate change: imagining “Good Cities” in a time of dystopia Clive Pearson

426

Index

439

viii

FIGURES

4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 4.6 6.1 6.2 10.1 12.1 12.2 12.3 13.1 13.2 13.3 13.4 13.5

The bicyclists on this bridge just passed under an eruv, which is visible as a diagonal wire in the top left quadrant of this photograph.Antwerp, Belgium, 2015 Religious dress “gives” and “gives off ” a range of meanings. Brooklyn, New York, 2010 Conative function of foreign language signage. Brooklyn, New York, 2010 Halal meat as phatic function. Brooklyn, New York, 2010 Signage on Jewish bakery as expressive function. Paris, France, 2007 Belleville Metro stop. Paris, France, 2007 Jhandis with an American Flag in Little Guyana, Queens, New York Map of jhandis in Richmond Hill and South Richmond Hill, Queens, New York “Miss Nashville.”This 1907 editorial cartoon from The Nashville Banner depicts the city as a woman with a dark blemish on her cheek, and asks what can be done to remove it Real GDP growth (EU: 2018) Growth in homelessness in Ireland, 2014–2019 Street art erected outside the unfinished headquarters of the failed bank, Anglo-Irish Destroyed mosque at Angwan Rukuba, Jos, Nigeria COCIN Church in Angwan Rogo, Jos, Nigeria, turned into a waste dump St. John Catholic Church in Ubel Angwan Rimi, Kaduna, Nigeria, turned into a waste dump St. Deeper Life Church in Angwan Rimi, Kaduna, Nigeria, turned into a waste dump Map of the spatial transitioning of Jos North, Nigeria

ix

49 55 56 57 58 59 84 88 137 169 170 171 187 187 188 189 191

Figures

13.6 NVivo matrix coding query chart for religious sites as symbols of hope and ideological buffers 13.7 Izala Eid Prayer ground at Rukuba Road, Jos, Nigeria 28.1 Structural violence, interpersonal violence, mental health issues, reactive violence 28.2 Yearly murder trend in Chicago, 1964–2018

x

192 192 409 411

CONTRIBUTORS

M Ala Uddin has been Professor of Anthropology at the University of Chittagong in Bangladesh since 2003. He has published two books on anthropological theory and methods. His research has focused on survival strategies of the indigenous people in Bangladesh, as well as religious pluralism, street vending, health and diseases, refugees and diaspora, and forest management. He has published his findings in numerous journal articles and chapters. Marcos Bisticas-Cocoves is an Associate Professor in the Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies at Morgan State University in Baltimore, Maryland. He is particularly interested in how continental philosophy can help us understand social movements in general and street activism in particular. Niclas Blåder is Associate Professor in Systematic Theology and Dean of the Diocese of Stockholm, Church of Sweden. He is the author of two books on Lutheran theology and tradition, as well as co-editor of Mending the World?: Possibilities and Obstacles for Religion, Church, and Theology (2017). Samantha Cavanagh, Ph.D., has been teaching in the Contextual Education department at Emmanuel College, University of Toronto, for the past five years. She is the Spiritual and Community Life Program Manager at Emmanuel College, where she is supporting and developing multi-religious and inter-religious spiritual and community life. Richard Cimino received his Ph.D. in sociology from the New School for Social Research. He was a research fellow at the Ecologies of Learning Project in New York. He co-authored Shopping for Faith and Ecologies of Faith in New York City: The Evolution of Religious Institutions, and was the author of Trusting the Spirit. He currently teaches in the Sociology Department at the State University of New York (SUNY) at the Old Westbury campus and is also the editor of Religion Watch newsletter, a bi-monthly publication reporting on trends and research in contemporary religion. Katie Day received her Ph.D. in sociology from Temple University and is the Schieren Professor Emerita of Church and Society at United Lutheran Seminary in Philadelphia. She has published four books, including Faith on the Avenue: Religion on a City Street (2014); in addition, this is her fourth co-edited volume. Dr. Day’s research focus has been on the intersection of race, religion, xi

Contributors

and violence and she has published in numerous collected volumes and journals. Her current research is on faith communities and guns, particularly religious understandings and practices of security. She is active in both Religious Research Association (RRA) and the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion (SSSR) and was a founding member of the Religion and Cities program unit of the American Academy of Religion, which she has co-chaired with Elise Edwards. James Edmonds received his Ph.D. in Religious Studies at Arizona State University in 2020. His work is grounded in the anthropology of religion with a focus on contemporary Islam in Indonesia and trans-national Islamic movements. He is a public-facing academic publishing in venues such as The Jakarta Post and #AsiaNow, as well as journals such as Culture & Religion, The American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences. He is also working on a forthcoming edited volume on religion and smell: Aromatic Religion: Eliciting the Olfactory in the Everyday. Elise M. Edwards, Ph.D., is an Assistant Professor in Religion at Baylor University and registered architect in the State of Florida. Her research is interdisciplinary, drawing upon theology, ethics, architectural theory, and urban studies to develop theological and ethical perspectives on civic engagement, cultural and artistic expression, and racial and gendered justice. An active member of the American Academy of Religion (AAR) and Society of Christian Ethics (SCE), she has served as program unit co-chair of the AAR’s Religion and Cities unit alongside Katie Day, Helene Slessarev-Jamir, and Harold Morales. Amidu Elabo is a Ph.D. candidate at Princeton Theological Seminary currently working on his dissertation in the Religion and Society program. His research interests include religion, space, and place; critical spatial theories; African indigenous religions, indigeneity, and land; material religion;African religions in the diaspora;African urbanism and the spatiality of African ethics. Isaiah Ellis is a Ph.D. candidate in Religious Studies at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. His research interests include American religions, material and visual culture, space and place, and theory and method in the study of religion. Isabella Cronin Favazza is a graduate of Goucher College. Her contribution to this volume originates from her thesis project. She currently works in the non-profit sector at City Year, a national service program to unite young adults from diverse backgrounds for a year of full-time community service. Richard Flory (Ph.D., The University of Chicago) is senior director of research and evaluation at the USC Center for Religion and Civic Culture. He is a sociologist whose research focuses on religious and cultural change, religion and urban life, and the religious and spiritual lives of youth and young adults. His current research focuses on religious innovation and change. Flory has published several books, including most recently Back Pocket God: Religion and Spirituality in the Lives of Emerging Adults (2020), and has a forthcoming edited volume, Religion in Los Angeles: Religious Activism, Innovation, and Diversity in the Global City (Routledge, forthcoming). He has also written for publications such as Religion Dispatches, The Conversation, Patheos, and Zócalo Public Square, and has been quoted by a variety of publications, including the L.A.Times, the New York Times, Buzzfeed News, and NPR. Amanda Furiasse, Ph.D., is a Visiting Professor of Religion at Hamline University and specializes in the study of health and healing in African and Native American religions. She is codirector of the Contagion, Religion, and Cities Project at the Center for the Study of Religion and the City. xii

Contributors

Trey Hammond is a clergyperson, having served at La Mesa Presbyterian Church in Albuquerque, NM since 1999. In that capacity he has been a leader in community organizing through Albuquerque Interfaith. Hammond also served as the director of Urban Ministry for the Presbyterian Church (USA). He co-authored (with George Todd) Exposure and Risk: The Great Coming Church:A Half Century of Urban Ministry (2016). Kevin Hargaden is a Presbyterian theologian who leads the Jesuit Centre for Faith and Justice in Dublin, Ireland. His Ph.D. is in Theological Ethics from Aberdeen University. His work sits at the intersection between public policy and moral theology in Irish society, looking particularly at economic ethics. His most recent book is entitled Theological Ethics in a Neoliberal Age (2018). Rachel Hildebrandt is a Senior Program Manager at Partners for Sacred Places, where her focus is on Partners’ research initiatives and resourcing Philadelphia area congregations. Rachel holds an MS in Historic Preservation from the University of Pennsylvania and a BA in Psychology from Chestnut Hill College. Before beginning work at Partners, and occasionally since, she has written for the online publication Hidden City Daily. Kristin E. Holmes worked as the religion reporter for the Philadelphia Inquirer from 1988– 2019. She has won a number of journalistic awards, including the Knight Ridder Religion Reporting Fellowship and the President’s Award from the Philadelphia Association of Black Journalists (2014 and 2019). She holds degrees from UCLA (Sociology) and Temple University (Communication and Media). Holmes is currently working as a freelance journalist. István Keul is Professor in the Study of Religions at the University of Bergen, Norway. His areas of research include various aspects of the history and sociology of South Asian religions. He is the author of a monograph on the Hindu deity Hanuman, as well as Early Modern Religious Communities in East-Central Europe. Keul has also edited numerous volumes on Asian religions, focusing on consecration rituals, technology and science,Tantra,Yoginis, and Banaras (Varanasi). Tsz Him Lai is a Ph.D. student in Christian Social Ethics at the Theological School of Drew University. His research interests include liberation theologies, social movement, and Hong Kong Christianity. He holds an MA in Theological Studies from Boston University, as well as a Master of Divinity from The Chinese University of Hong Kong. Chad Martin is the Director of Strategic Partnerships and Community Relations at Housing Development Corporation MidAtlantic. Previously he was Director of the National Fund at Partners for Sacred Places from 2016 through 2019, and has been a Mennonite pastor. He has written on art, architecture, theology, spirituality, and stewardship for professional and general readers. Chad received a BA from Goshen College and an MA from Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, and lives with his family in Lancaster, PA. Michael McLaughlin is a doctoral candidate in the religion department at Florida State University. His dissertation project examines how firearms shaped twentieth-century American religion. Brian J. Miller is Associate Professor of Sociology at Wheaton College, Illinois. He has published work on religion and place, suburban growth and development, the depiction of suburbs on television, and social media use among emerging adults. Harold D. Morales is an Associate Professor in the Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies at Morgan State University in Baltimore, Maryland. His research focuses on the intersections between race and religion, and between lived and mediated experience. He uses these xiii

Contributors

critical lenses to engage Latinx religions in general, and Latinx Muslim organizations in particular. Dr. Morales is now focusing on developing public scholarship initiatives through his research on mural art and social justice issues in the city of Baltimore and through the Center for the Study of Religion and the City. Linda Noonan is a Ph.D. candidate at United Lutheran Seminary, where she also teaches courses in community organizing. Her research focuses on social change and ritual. She was ordained in South Africa, where she also taught at University of Durban-Westville. Noonan is senior pastor at Chestnut Hill United Church, where she has served since 2001. Clive Pearson is currently with the Public and Contextual Theology Research Centre, Charles Sturt University (Sydney, Australia). He received his Ph.D. at University of Cambridge and has served on the faculties of University of Otago and Dunedin University (both in New Zealand), and, since 1997, at United Theological College at Charles Sturt University. He has published many books, articles, and chapters, focusing on cross-cultural, diasporic, ecological and public theologies in Asia and Oceania. Pearson is also Editor in Chief of the International Journal for Public Theology. Rupa Pillai is a Senior Lecturer in the Asian American Studies program at the University of Pennsylvania. A cultural anthropologist, she investigates the intersections of religion, race, and migration in the Indo-Caribbean American community in New York City. Timothy Shortell is Professor and Chairperson of the Sociology Department at Brooklyn College in New York. He is a social psychologist who studies social and spatial semiotics. He is currently the editor of Visual Studies, the leading international journal of visual sociology and visual culture. His new research project examines public transportation as a distinct type of public space. He has published widely and is active in the International Sociological Association, the European Sociological Association, and the International Visual Sociology Association. He is also a visual artist and musician. Shortell has been at Brooklyn College since 1997. Teresa L. Smallwood, a native of North Carolina, earned a BA from the UNC Chapel Hill, a Juris Doctor from North Carolina Central University School of Law, a Master of Divinity from Howard University School of Divinity, and a Ph.D. from Chicago Theological Seminary (Theology, Ethics, and Human Sciences). She is Postdoctoral Fellow and Associate Director of the Public Theology and Racial Justice Collaborative at Vanderbilt Divinity School and an ordained minister. Hans Tokke is an urban sociologist (Ph.D., New School for Social Research) who teaches in the Sociology Department at New York City College of Technology. He has led or been a key participant of urban community development and research projects in diverse neighborhoods in New York City, Philadelphia, San Francisco, Manila,Vancouver, and Buenos Aires.Tokke is also co-founder of Double Docs, a change consulting firm. Phil Tom is an urban minister who has served as Director of the Office of Urban Ministry for the Presbyterian Church (USA). During the Obama administration, he worked as the Director of the Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnership Office of the US Department of Labor. He continues to be active in community organizing efforts and, with Trey Hammond, is developing a network of faith-based organizing. Elfriede Wedam is an Advanced Lecturer in Sociology at Loyola University Chicago and research associate with Loyola’s Center for the Social Study of Religion. She co-authored Religion and Community in the New Urban Era (2015) with Paul D. Numrich. xiv

Contributors

Heather R. White is Visiting Assistant Professor in Religion and Queer studies at the University of Puget Sound. Heather White is a specialist in American religious history with a research focus on sexuality, gender, and twentieth-century social movements. White’s first book was Reforming Sodom: Protestants and the Rise of Gay Rights (2015), followed by an anthology co-edited with Gillian Frank and Bethany Moreton, Devotions and Desires: Histories of Religion and Sexuality in the Twentieth-Century United States (2018). Roman R. Williams is Associate Professor of Sociology at Calvin University in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and is the Executive Officer of the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion. He has a particular interest in visual sociology and is editor and a contributor to Seeing Religion: Toward a Visual Sociology of Religion (Routledge, 2015). He has published numerous journal articles, chapters, and book reviews in the sociology of religion. Ryan SC Wong is currently a third-year Ph.D. student in Sociology at Loyola University Chicago. His research interests include religion, deviance, disability, and social movements.

xv

FOREWORD Richard Flory

When I was growing up in Southern California in the 1960s, there were still many open fields that had yet to be developed into housing tracts or shopping malls.When the rains came in the winter, these fields bloomed with grass, weeds, and wildflowers.These otherwise unremarkable open spaces were transformed into lush green carpets teeming with all sorts of life: grass and other plants, flowers, birds, tadpoles, and frogs, right smack in the middle of our recently developed suburban neighborhoods. Until I was in college and I left Southern California for the first time, my view of the world was that everything came alive in the winter. Had I grown up in Chicago, my view of nature—and the way I thought the world worked—would have been significantly different. While this anecdote may seem trivial, and perhaps a strange way to introduce an important new book that investigates religion in an urban setting, my point is that place matters. Place, in this sense, is more than just a location where we might happen to live. Our perspectives on the world are shaped by many different social and psychological influences, but the specific “place” that provides the context through which we interact with the larger world is of key importance in developing our ongoing understanding of that world. Religion is no different in this regard. Not only are individual religious perspectives, beliefs, and practices informed by how one interacts with other individuals, nature, the built environment, and the like, but so are institutions and organizations as they interact with each other in that same environment. Yet, despite the fact that urban scholars have produced many insights on how urban areas work, religion rarely makes an appearance in these studies. If it does appear, it’s generally one among many other discrete social institutions located in a particular area, rather than an integral institution in the urban setting. Similarly, religion scholars have been mainly preoccupied with religious beliefs, practices, rituals, and the like, as though these exist independent of their location. Although there are notable exceptions (e.g., Ammerman 1996; Eiesland 2000; McRoberts 2005; Day 2018),“place” has been underdeveloped as a significant methodological and theoretical category in the study of religion. More typically, one sees case studies of individual congregations, or an examination of congregations in a particular community, but with no significant exploration of how congregation and community are a part of the same social ecology. Or one sees an analysis of some variable within religion—such as class, race, or gender—that is abstracted from the specific context in which that variable is embedded. What is missing is a holistic analysis of the role of religion at the community level that examines how congregations xvii

Richard Flory

are embedded in neighborhoods and how that may matter. Leaving ideas of place out of these analyses also leaves out any sustained reflection on how religious groups operate as integral parts of the urban ecology of the city. Into this void step Professors Katie Day and Elise M. Edwards, with The Routledge Handbook of Religion and Cities.This book is a treasure trove of insights into the different ways that religion is embedded in its urban environment and how that may matter, to both religion and to the city. Rather than treating the city as an independent variable that only acts on religion, the chapters in this volume treat the city and religion as partners in a recursive relationship in which they are shaping as well as being shaped through their interaction.This, in my view, is the signature contribution of this volume.The chapters operate from an ethnographic methodological, and ecological theoretical approach, harkening back to Robert Ezra Park, Ernest W. Burgess, and the pioneering approach to urban studies of the Chicago School of sociology (Park and Burgess 1925). As an undergrad who was first exposed to the discipline of sociology through reading the deep ethnographic accounts of different neighborhoods and types of people in Chicago, I was enthralled with the storytelling and the ecological frame that was the hallmark of the Chicago School. Books like Harvey Zorbaugh’s The Gold Coast and the Slum (1929), The Taxi Dance Hall by Paul Cressey (1932), and Nels Anderson’s The Hobo (1923) were deep descriptions of the lives of different kinds of people in the city of Chicago, where they lived, and how they spent their time. But they also provided a way to understand these stories as they fit into the larger fabric of the city.That is, the Chicago School sought to explain processes and interactions within and between people and institutions so as to develop theoretical lenses that could clarify the ecological relationships of populations, organizations, and institutions in the city of Chicago and beyond.As Robert Park wrote in the volume that set out the research paradigm for the Chicago School’s urban sociology, the importance of the city as a research site lay in: [T]he opportunity it offers … a great city tends to spread out and lay bare to the public view in a massive manner all the human characters and traits which are ordinarily obscured and suppressed in smaller communities … The city, in short, shows the good and evil in human nature in excess. It is this fact, perhaps, more than any other, which justifies the view that would make of the city a laboratory or clinic in which human nature and social processes may be conveniently and profitably studied. (Park 1925, pp. 45–46) Although the Chicago School had a self-conscious mission to create a secular sociological science as opposed to some religious do-good approach to solving social problems (Smith 2003), some of the studies that came to be recognized as foundational in establishing the empirical science of society also had a progressive intent to solve the many problems that they had identified in the urban context. For example, the research for Anderson’s The Hobo was sponsored by the Executive Committee of the Chicago Council of Social Agencies, with the goal of the project to “secure those facts which will enable social agencies to deal intelligently with problems created by … the tens of thousands of foot-loose and homeless men” in the city of Chicago (Anderson 1923, pp. ix–x). This, of course, was not the norm, but that progressive, reformist impulse remained. This suggests that, even in their efforts to establish the scientific study of social phenomena, the scholars of the Chicago School also believed that good empirical research could help to solve the problems that existed in—and because of—the modern city. What is conspicuous by its absence among the Chicago School studies, similar to urban studies more generally, is that there is not much in the way of a sustained analysis of the role of xviii

Foreword

religion and religious institutions in the urban setting. Although core Chicago School scholar Louis Wirth addressed the experience of Jewish immigrants (Wirth 1928), and a more marginal figure, Samuel Kincheloe, detailed competition, adaptation, and succession among churches in the urban setting (Kincheloe 1938), not much else on religion was published from the Chicago School. In the classic book that set the Chicago School research agenda, The City (Park and Burgess 1925), Robert Park does briefly address religion, emphasizing the need for continuous “readjustment” by religion to the continuously changing conditions of urban life: Under the disintegrating influences of city life most of our traditional institutions, the church, the school, and the family, have been greatly modified … The church … which has lost much of its influence since the printed page has so largely taken the place of the pulpit in the interpretation of life, seems at present to be in process of readjustment to the new conditions. (Park 1925, p. 24) Park’s underlying assumption about religion was not just that, along with other important social institutions like the school and the family, it was, of necessity, “readjusting” to the new realities of its urban setting, but that religion was secularizing due to the ecological processes in which it was embedded in the city. Park was not alone in this observation.The Protestant church in the 1920s was simultaneously in the process of becoming more “scientific” and thus “modern,” and also fighting over what that meant—an “adjustment” to social and scientific change, or a giving up of the faith (see e.g., Marsden 1980; Flory 2003).Yet, if we don’t assume that, in adjusting and adapting to new realities, religion necessarily becomes more modern—and thus secularized—we can find examples of religious groups that adapted to modern scientific realities in the service of building a following for their otherwise traditional beliefs and practices.This battle, I would argue, is a direct result of the location of the combatants in the primary urban centers of the time—New York and Chicago. And, as Park observed, they found it necessary to adjust to the changing realities they encountered on a daily basis in their urban setting. Katie Day and Elise M. Edwards are ideally situated as the organizers and editors of this Handbook. Katie Day has recently published an in-depth look at the religious institutions in one eight-mile stretch of road in Philadelphia, documenting how they have changed as the city has changed around and with them (Day 2018). Elise Edwards is an ethicist and theologian who was also trained as an architect, so fully understands the seemingly disparate worlds that intersect in the urban environment. Both of them have also worked to bridge the gap between academic research and praxis in their teaching and writing, and as such are excellent guides on this journey through the religious landscape of cities. Further, the strength of this editing and organizing partnership is evident in the range of contributors and topics of the chapters included in the Handbook. The contributors include social scientists, journalists, theologians, and religious practitioners, representing an interdisciplinary mix that allows the reader to bring the different disciplinary and professional approaches into conversation with each other.The topics are equally broad; yet, as noted above, all coalesce around the shared ethnographic methodology and theoretical assumption that religion exists and changes within a particular urban ecology of organizations, institutions, neighborhoods, politics, public officials, and the like. Thus, chapters are representative of global cities ranging from Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, Nashville and—yes—Chicago in the US, to locations across the globe such as Indonesia, Mumbai, Jos (Nigeria), Hong Kong, and Haifa.Topics include investigations of the relationship between religion (in various forms) and the built environment, the use of GIS technology to map urban religious groups, gentrification, community organizing, xix

Richard Flory

urban policy, and climate change. In short, there is something of interest for anyone interested in how religion is influenced in the urban context, and how religion in turn seeks to exert its influence on the urban setting in which it is located. It is my hope that as this book is read and disseminated, the essays included here will spark creative new investigations of how religion and its urban setting are symbiotically related, and provide greater insights into how religion not only changes and adapts in response to its urban place, but how it also exerts its own influence in and on the city. But, first, enjoy this book. It is a significant contribution to our understanding of urban processes and how religion and the urban influence each other, which both reminds us of the past while beckoning us toward the future. Center for Religion and Civic Culture University of Southern California

Citations Ammerman, Nancy. Congregation and Community (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1997). Anderson, Nels. The Hobo:The Sociology of the Homeless Man (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1923). Cressey, Paul. The Taxi Dance Hall: A Sociological Study in Commercialized Recreation and City Life (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1932). Day, Katie. Faith on the Avenue: Religion on a City Street (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018). Eiseland, Nancy. A Particular Place: Urban Restructuring and Religious Ecology in a Southern Exurb (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2000). Flory, Richard. “Promoting a Secular Standard: Secularization and Modern Journalism, 1870–1930.” Chapter 9 in The Secular Revolution: Power, Interests, and Conflict in the Secularization of American Public Life (Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press, 2003). Kincheloe, Samuel. The American City and its Church (New York: Friendship Press, 1938). Marsden, George. Fundamentalism and American Culture:The Shaping of American Evangelicalism, 1870–1925 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1980). McRoberts, Omar. Streets of Glory: Church and Community in a Black Urban Neighborhood (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 2003). Park, Robert E. and Ernest W. Burgess. The City (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1925). Smith, Christian. “Secularizing American Higher Education: The Case of Early American Sociology.” Chapter 2 in The Secular Revolution: Power, Interests, and Conflict in the Secularization of American Public Life (Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press, 2003). Wirth, Louis. The Ghetto (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1928). Zorbaugh, Harvey. The Gold Coast and the Slum: A Sociological Study of Chicago’s Near North Side (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1929).

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1 INTRODUCTION Katie Day and Elise M. Edwards

When considering religion, context matters—and always has. Organized rituals and beliefs reflecting transcendent reality have never been decontextualized in their origins and development. Despite so much research on religion that focuses on individual faith, looking at religion in such individualistic terms has been a relatively recent development. Even studies of trends in the broader patterns of believing and belonging have been blinkered, for the most part, in incorporating the social and spatial contexts into their analyses. Religions develop not in isolated siloes, but in social interactions and in real time and real space. More specifically, the practices and identities of religious faiths have been social phenomena within urban contexts: religion and cities have been inextricably related throughout human history, interactive in their development. Religion and cities have quite literally grown up together. Both are complex social arrangements—dynamic in and of themselves, but even more so when considered in their relationship. Urban contexts include intersecting cultures, economies, political structures, built environments, and histories, and have profound impact on the shape of religions within them. Reciprocally, religions shape cities as well in all the same dimensions. Religion has not been able to ignore its urban space: it is the literal context in which faith communities have flourished (or declined) and in which their primal understandings of good and evil—their very moral imaginations—have been formed. Religion is inherently spatial in its construction of meaning and message, as well as its institutional establishment. Reciprocally, cities have been shaped by religion spatially, culturally, economically, and politically. Cities are spatially mapped by religious settlers and infused as secular moral communities with their presence and symbology.This reciprocity is at the heart of the research represented in this volume. From a diversity of urban contexts from five continents, and representing a variety of faith traditions, the scholars and religious practitioners within these covers explore and analyze the nuanced dynamics of religion and cities.The rigid delineation of sacred and profane, of religion over and against the city, no longer has intellectual integrity.While maintaining distinctions, to various degrees, religion is both in and of the city. As obvious as this interaction seems, both theoretically and in lived experience, there are curious blind spots among those who engage the city, including scholars, policy makers, and even religious practitioners.1 Those who study, design, develop, and govern cities are often blinkered from “seeing” religion and understanding its dynamic relationship to the urban context.2 And those who study religion similarly overlook the impact of space on their subjects. 1

Katie Day and Elise M. Edwards

This volume was envisaged as a compilation of contemporary scholarship that would capture, refracted through a diversity of angles, how religions and cities are mutually engaging each other in the twenty-first century. The subject itself—the interaction of religion and cities— defies any sort of one-dimensional analysis. Its complexity is amplified by the particularities of geographic and religious contexts, reflected in the rich diversity of the chapters in this volume. From Mumbai to Stockholm, New York to Indonesia, Hong Kong to Chicago, the research represented here looks at how peoples of many religions are living out their faith in cities in myriad ways. The contributors include a wide range of academic disciplines and experience: anthropologists, sociologists, historians, theologians, journalists, practitioners, theologians, and architects, all employing their particular lenses and methodologies in their in-depth analyses. They pull out threads of religious-urban dynamics, including economic policies, political power struggles, land use, the dramatic movement of peoples, environmental crisis, and the development of meaning and identity in it all. As if this complexity were not enough to hold in one volume, during the final stage of this project, the coronavirus pandemic swept across the globe. In a matter of weeks, even days, much of what had defined both cities and religions—both dependent on physical gatherings of people—came to a dramatic halt. Everything from commerce to worship needed to be reimagined and retooled to remote forms of engagement for public safety. Streets were empty, workers were unemployed, borders blocked travel and immigration, and houses of worship shuttered until further notice.The coronavirus pandemic has been a cruel reminder of how interdependent we are on this planet, for better or worse. As the death toll rose in the spring of 2020 in the global city of New York—her hospitals overwhelmed, her theaters, businesses, and sacred places gone dark—it became apparent how very vulnerable cities were. Further, the pandemic ravaged those communities within cities who were most vulnerable to begin with: people of color, those in lower-paying service jobs, in dense housing, those with less access to health care, the elderly, and the incarcerated. Social inequalities were grimly laid bare and exacerbated.Those with access to internet technology were more likely to work and study at home … and to survive.The digital divide was exposed even as it widened the social distance between the haves and the have-nots, or the hooked-in and the unplugged. In this context, religious groups have worked diligently to adapt. As “shelter in place” policies were enacted throughout the world, the familiar rituals of gathering have been jarringly interrupted.Yet the longing for meaning, support, worship, and especially comfort during this period of suffering and dying has intensified. It should come as no surprise that many of the challenges to public orders have come from religious groups, defying bans in order to hold corporate worship and funerals.Violators—such as the Hasidic community holding a funeral for their rabbi in New York, or Christians in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, gathering for worship— elicited police responses, which no doubt felt as religious persecution by the pandemic-weary believers. Most faith communities have had to become technologically savvy and have learned to creatively continue ministries. Anecdotally, many report higher numbers of people accessing worship through technology than had previously attended. However, what the long-term impact of the pandemic will be on cities and religions is a manner of speculation. Will there be a thinning of attachment to the materiality of worship in built sacred spaces, with tangible symbols, and in the physical presence of others? Will “social distancing” erode social capital and social trust? Is what might feel apocalyptic in fact becoming “the new normal” in the future, and how will societies and religions look different? These questions and many others are not addressed here, although Richard Cimino and Hans Tokke, who write about their research on the religious super-diversity in Queens, New York, provided an epilogue in their chapter about the impact of the pandemic on the religious groups they studied. 2

Introduction

Then, later in the spring of 2020, as people of color were bearing disproportionate amounts of suffering due to COVID, a series of Black people were fatally shot by police in the US.These sparked mass demonstrations, not only in American cities large and small, but globally as well.The empty streets were now filled with thousands of people in largely peaceful demonstrations calling for the dismantling of systemic racism, especially in police departments.As people of all races and religions marched together, it was clear that the need to assert that “Black Lives Matter” was an issue worth risking one’s health and life for. At once, the intersecting dramas of the pandemic and cries for social change were performed in city spaces. Chapters that address racial injustice, like Teresa Smallwood’s research on police violence and community response in Nashville, have even more relevance and urgency in this moment.The question of what to do with Baltimore’s “ghosts,” Confederate monuments and art from the Uprising following the death of Freddie Gray while in police custody, is raised by Marcos Bisticas-Cocoves and Harold Morales. No doubt there will be a proliferation of additional research on these critical historic phenomena. But in moving into the post-pandemic and post-social unrest realities of this moment— if indeed there is a “post”—it will be important to look at how cities and the religions within them are changed. But first it is crucial to understand the dynamics of cities and religions as they have interacted up to this point.The contributors here bring a rich diversity of research, drilling down in their analyses of how particular urban contexts and the peoples of faith within them are in mutual engagement. Understanding the nuances of these interactions will enable clearer insights going forward.

The history of religion and cities Early human civilization moved from agrarian settlements to more densely populated centers where commercial trade of crafts and services created communities of exchange. Since the first cities emerged in 3200 bce in Southern Mesopotamia,3 these more densely populated spaces with markets and residences were usually organized around a centralized temple. Having a central cultic institution served a number of purposes, including generating shared meaning and social coherence among the population, creating social control through norms and laws, and facilitating the development of language.As these early cities developed, societies organized hierarchically, and political power also became centralized and sacralized. Sociologist of religion Robert Bellah has described the relationship between God and king, arguing that power was mythologized so that it might be maintained.4 From these early roots, religion, power, and the places of power were intricately interconnected in symbiotic relationships—in cities. This pattern of the co-production of religion and urban life has continued throughout history until the present time. In the Hebrew scriptures, there is an identification with the spiritual self and one’s community as the Israelites in exile are exhorted to “seek the (shalom), welfare of the city … for in its welfare you will find your welfare”—even if one is an exile in that city.5 Consider the later design of medieval cities in a Christocentric pattern, as reflected in the maps from this period: urban space itself both reflected and reinforced religious meanings.6 During the Reformation period in Europe, an urban vision informed John Calvin’s reorganization of Geneva.Although his theology affirmed the sovereignty of God, it was in the city that theological convictions were to be manifest. The centrality of cities to the organization of religion is also reflected in Islam (Mecca) and Roman Catholicism (Rome).A number of cities are shared by religions that consider them sacred, such as Jerusalem for Muslims, Jews, and Christians, and Varanasi for Buddhists and Hindus.These sacred cities provide a gravitational center for religious traditions, enabling their institutional, ideological, and political development. Religions and cities have had their identities, and indeed their fortunes, entwined. 3

Katie Day and Elise M. Edwards

Religions are in the meaning-making business and the cities in which they were located became a primary focus of the theological imagination. However, there was ambivalence about “the city,” which itself became a metaphor of both blessing and curse. In the Greek scriptures of the Christian tradition, the “New Jerusalem” is prophesied in the Book of Revelations as the symbolic culmination of human history and perfection of all creation.“Babylon,” on the other hand, reflects the depths of human sinfulness and self-destruction. Although it has been a great city historically, Babylon (part of what is now Baghdad) was condemned in the bible as being the place of multi-lingual confusion, idolatry, and condemnation.7 In the fifth century ce, St. Augustine of Hippo, in City of God, further explored these two conflicting metaphors of the city as a place of redemption or of ultimate damnation. In this influential work, the church and state both contribute to the ordering and progress of human community. Ultimately, however, his allegorical City of Heaven leads to salvation, but the City of the World leads to damnation. In the theological and intellectual history over succeeding ages, the city has persisted as a compelling metaphor for humanity itself—representing both its highest potential and lowest depravity. This ambivalence about the city is not just limited to a religious imaginary but has been reflected more broadly in culture, politics, and the academy. In the American experiment,“the city” as Janus-faced metaphor also evolved. Religion was a central dynamic in the establishment of the new country, and the urban metaphor conveyed the utopic vision. Since the Puritan preacher John Winthrop exhorted those who would be settling the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1630 to see their new community as a “city on a hill,” the biblical reference entered the vocabulary of American civil religion.The “shining city on a hill,” as used by President Ronald Reagan, connoted a society which was exceptional in the global community, providing a beacon from a lofty perch. But the city as metaphor, and in reality, was not always “shining,” but has also been perceived as a place of chaos, terror, and depravity. In theory, theology, public policy, and public perception,“the city” is considered with ambivalence, as both sacred and profane, the place of redemption or alienation.While this has been the bifocal lens through which religion has seen the city and its context, it has rarely looked at itself in such terms. As well as the recurring theme identifying the city with salvation within civic consciousness, the concurrent identification of the city with sinfulness, depravity, and condemnation has been equally, and at times predominantly, in the public imagination. Urban centers are defined by density of population, enabling the creation of anonymity and the lack of social controls. The Puritans, despite imagining the American experiment as a “shining city,” looked at actual cities less charitably, as havens that bred all manner of excesses, bringing out the worst of humanity. Religious traditions have often viewed the city in pathological terms and seen themselves— religious institutions—as standing over or against the city, holding up a mirror that it might see its sinfulness.The boundary between sacred and profane was considered absolute, impermeable. The church or temple, if it stayed in the city, considered itself as judge and source of redemption for those who escaped, or were rescued from, the stench of urban decay. Urban scholar Robert Orsi describes how the popular Christian evangelist Billy Sunday of the early twentieth century reflected a prevalent social perspective on the “moral contaminations of urbanity,” and that God should “wear rubber gloves when dealing with city folk.”8 Ethnographer Omar McRoberts described this dynamic even among urban churches in his 2003 study of African American faith communities in Boston9: The street becomes a religious trope, alternately embodying notions of irredeemable evil and combatable sin.The street is an evil other, against which the church is defined. The world of the street supplies the raw data about the nature of evil that gets incorporated into moral teaching. So the church and street ultimately cannot be separated 4

Introduction

here. But the form that the street takes in the religious imagination discourages direct engagement with the immediate neighborhood. And this further discourages many churches from developing a sense of neighborhood identity.10 McRoberts found that the communities of faith he studied needed to maintain the urban depravity imaginary for their construction of their own religious identities. Ironically, while the sacred/profane boundary was inviolable in their thinking and they did not engage their context, they were still bound to it for their own sense of identity.Without sinful cities, evangelists like Billy Sunday would have preached to empty houses and the congregations like those in McRoberts’ study would lack a coherent sense of identity and mission. Several chapters in this volume explore the ways religion weaves a moral framework around urban conditions and the city’s presumed depravity. Isaiah Ellis presents a study of religious history and culture in Chicago that examines the mutually transformative relationships between its urban fabric and the individual and collective religious expression shaped within it. Heather White’s chapter illuminates a history of LGBT activism in San Francisco that adds complexity to the common representation of clergy and Protestant denominations as opponents to the 1960s homophile movement. By shifting the research focus to particular congregations and their neighborhood involvements,White exposes the way that liberal Protestant clergy and churches with ministries within the so-called “homosexual ghetto” supported LGBT activists in an era focused on sexual vices. People of faith continue to construct narratives around the meaning of cities from outside the city limits as well within them. Contributor Brian Miller analyzes how white evangelicals in the US draw on theological frames to understand lived religion in the suburbs in relation to the city. While the stigma of the city is not as pronounced as in earlier expressions, there are certainly echoes. During the pandemic of 2020, the image of city as contagion again emerged in public rhetoric in assigning blame:Wuhan, China infected other parts of the world; New York was seen as the source of contamination of rural areas. New Yorkers who wanted to leave the city during the pandemic were not welcome in outlying communities and were required to be in quarantine for 14 days. Whether the city is identified with a moral or viral stain, the ambivalence toward urban contexts and the people who live in them is reproduced. There is a counter narrative—the city not as a place of contamination but of redemption— that was particularly articulated by Harvard theologian Harvey Cox in his book The Secular City: Secularization and Urbanization in Theological Perspective (1965). Cox offered a different perspective on the city, countering the predominant negative image of it in the religious imagination. The city should not be understood as a metaphor of depravity, nor considered in reality to be a place that is defined by sinfulness, temptation, chaos, and danger, and therefore a threat to the body and soul of the religious. He wrote at a time when theological constructions of urban space were encouraging people—especially white Christians—to leave the city in droves for an imagined idyll of the suburbs. His central question was theological: where is God? Rather than escaping what is seen as the godless city, Cox argued that God could be found in the very secular mores of the urban context. The city should be embraced—the divine could be encountered in new ways here.This first book by a young theologian sold over a million copies, generating debate and igniting controversy.11

Sacred space/urban place Most surprisingly, it seems that despite generations of being based in urban contexts as necessary to their identity and survival, religions themselves have often lost a sense of spatial awareness. 5

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Like Augustine’s other-worldly City of God, the city as place has been at times removed from religion’s consciousness of itself.The house of worship is perceived as providing a portal which transports the human spirit to the divine. Context is then relegated to insignificance, at best, or that which is to be transcended (especially if it is seen as the “evil other,” over against which religion defines itself). It could be argued that the decontextualizing of religious experience in so-called Western societies is a result of the deep individualism that pervades so much of religious faith—the proverbial piety of “Sheilaism” described by Robert Bellah.12 Individualism undermines a spatial awareness. But it has not just been religious practitioners—believers—who had been blind to urban context.The phenomenon has been reflected in the approach of much study of religion as well: the research gaze has not been on religion in situ. Instead, research of religion has focused on aggregated trends, quantifying patterns of individual believing and belonging.There has been careful documentation of the changes in patterns of religious affiliation, practices, and affirmations of doctrines. Much of this research has been generated by religious denominations, concerned about their institutional survival, and so have monitored trends of growth and decline. Another source of data has been religious histories, also coming largely from within the religious groups themselves. But neither these historic narratives nor the quantitative data captured the spatial dimension of religion—the interaction in the environmental contexts between urban space and religious phenomena. However, Rupa Pillai offers another tool for analysis on the form of geographic information system (GIS) applications, which allows researchers to map findings about religious communities and religious expression. Pillai’s chapter describes the opportunities and challenges of collecting and mapping religious data. Why might researchers of religion have largely ignored the contextualized study of religion, especially its rich dynamics in cities? Social research in all fields has been dominated until recently by quantitative methodologies which have been focused on tracking large social trends. However, the hegemony of statistical social “facts” has been challenged by post-modernist critics since the 1970s. The very foundations of objectivity in quantitative methodology were called into question.The post-modernists argued that all research is finally “the search for self ” rather than an objective analysis of “the other.” This in turn redefined social research methodology to look more closely at the local subject, developing, in the familiar phrase of anthropologist Clifford Geertz, the “thick description.” Rather than generalizing social theories out of large samples, the focus on local cases could enable more nuanced understandings of the dynamics of social processes.Through ethnographic research methods, what was lost in generalizability was more than offset by a deeper insight into social dynamics, which could be suggestive of an interpretive or theoretical paradigm. Just as Harvey Cox had given urban religion a consciousness of the value of its context, so too did the development of ethnographic methodology stimulate researchers of religion to critically consider the role of context in analyzing religious dynamics, privileging a spatial approach. In this Handbook, a variety of methodologies are employed in studying faiths in urban contexts, but the turn toward ethnography is evident, reflected in a rich array of studies which drill down into the particularities of place. Roman Williams and Timothy Shortell present visual social scientific approaches to religion and the city that turn the researchers’ gaze to the street, documenting the sacred found in its symbolic, artistic, material, and embodied expressions.Visual methods, particularly through the use of photography, are increasingly part of the ethnographic toolkit. The scholarship presented here counters those who would ignore religious groups, or consider them a benign presence (at best), having little agency to impact the urban ecology— urban planners, politicians, developers, the media, and academics.13 They are perceived to have minimal social value and, because they are tax exempt and are not (usually) large employers, to have minimal economic value as well. In some cases, the veil of invisibility is lifted when 6

Introduction

houses of worship which occupy former commercial space (“storefront” churches) are considered a sign of blight and efforts are made to limit their prevalence through zoning. The logic of development does not recognize the agency of religion in the very construction of space, adding social value that is not easily monetized. In chapters by Kristin Holmes and by Rachel Hildebrandt and Chad Martin, the interaction of religion and built environment of the urban ecology of Philadelphia is explored in depth. Economic trends, religious buildings, congregational agency, and neighborhood space each have agency in their interaction, impacting one another dynamically. Further, religious groups are generally ignored by politicians as having no real political capital to bring to the table. Contributions to the quality of life in urban space through art, education, human services, and community identity are not considered to be constructive of power and therefore not included in the political calculus. The media similarly has limited inclusion of religion, often ignoring the religious dimension of news, relegating faith to stereotypic images or perhaps “bad news” when religious people behave badly (as in the sexual abuse scandals). Madeleine Albright found this vacuum in foreign policy.The daughter of a diplomat, she studied international relations and had a distinguished career, serving in the National Security Council, as Ambassador to the United Nations and Secretary of State under President Bill Clinton. In her book, The Mighty and the Almighty: Reflections on America, God and World Affairs, she acknowledges the assumption within the field of foreign service that religion is irrelevant in geopolitical negotiations. Religion is considered a distraction; it is divisive, irrational, and finally a private matter. By the end of her career, however, she came to a firm affirmation that effective foreign diplomacy has to bring religion back in.“I am often asked,‘Why can’t we just keep religion out of foreign policy?’ My answer to that we can’t and shouldn’t …”14 Religion, whether at a local or global level has animated the flows of peoples, the mapping of space, the creation of social identities and values, the flaming of conflict, and the formation of peace. Detailed ethnographic studies in this volume by Tsz Him Lai, Linda Noonan, Isabella Favazza,Trey Hammond, and Phil Tom analyze the impact of faith-based groups in the political arenas in Hong Kong and three US cities. In these contexts, religious actors have forged social movements, building on their collective identities, incorporating rituals, framing public issues, and mobilizing grassroots peoples in engaging power structures. In their chapter on urban violence,Wedam and Wong consider the degrees of agency communities of faith have in countering the prevalence of violence, another type of power structure on city streets. Agency requires a sense of empowerment which is present to varying degrees and can be drawn from different wells, as these chapters describe. This volume, drawing on the ecological frame, attests to the reality that religious groups have shaped cities, and have also been shaped by them.As described, the spatial analysis of urban religion had been largely ignored by both religious practitioners and researchers, as well as by those who exert power in the design and governance of urban space.The research presented here is intended to challenge these blind spots and biases. As a corrective for future scholarship, Elise Edwards’ contribution offers methodologies of spatial and architectural analysis commonly used to study religion in urban settings, identifies the types of questions these methods are employed to answer, and discusses representative works in this volume and other publications that have adopted these approaches to architectural analysis. Isaiah Ellis highlights the importance of attention to cities’ infrastructure in historical narrative and urban geography. No doubt the discussion of a spatial approach will be deepened by the provocative article by James Edmonds that came out of his research in an Islamic movement in Indonesia, which challenges our understandings of cities as only built environments. In his study, religion is forming “ephemeral” cities—cities expressive of their worldview but a complex confluence of urban systems nonetheless. By 7

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bringing to light the agency of faith communities in urban contexts, we hope to reflect and further a turn in religious research as well as in theological consciousness of urban space.

The ecological model The frame being used in this volume stems from the urban ecological model that focuses on the interaction of religion and contexts, which is helpful in teasing out how communities of faith are shaping their urban contexts as well as being shaped by them. The ecological model has a long history within urban studies, and has evolved into a robust analytical tool for understanding religion and cities. This development is traced back to the Chicago School and the work particularly of sociologists Robert Ezra Park, Louis Wirth, and Ernest Burgess in the 1920s.15 The Chicago School represented a theoretical frame to account for the rapid growth of cities (particularly Chicago), and to then understand how they came be to be organized into the “social worlds” such as neighborhoods, slums, and ethnic enclaves. They drew on the Darwinian biological model of ecology—the web of organisms that is the context for evolution. Through appropriating this frame from nature to cities, they then employed qualitative methods to analyze cities as systems of actors (collective and individual) in dynamic, symbiotic relationships. Physical space and human experience were mutually engaged in producing relationships that were both interdependent and competitive. The result was that these dynamics produced particular patterns of mobility and spatial segregation that could be mapped and predicted.The Chicago School (particularly through Burgess) became best known for the “concentric zone theory,” a graphic target-like portrayal of urban space representing the interaction of cultural and social groups with socioeconomic forces. In this human ecology, systems of transportation, communication, and institutions (of religion, education, media, health care, cultural, etc.) engaged symbiotically, developing larger, complex societies analogous to how species evolved in the natural ecology. Louis Wirth was the major member of the Chicago School to research the role that religion played in mapping the city.16 Actors are engaged in shaping and being shaped by their environment; religious phenomena were no different. Wirth’s research portrayed the symbiotic relationship of one religion (Judaism) and neighborhood in co-production of urban space. The Chicago School’s concentric zone theory has been consistently critiqued as being overly deterministic in drawing on the biological metaphor. Further, human agency reflects cognizance, or consciousness, not found in the natural ecology.17 Segregated residential patterns are not the result of “natural processes,” but of human agency.18 Still, the influence of the Chicago School has endured, echoing to the present generation of urban researchers in contributing an understanding of urban reality as an ongoing, dynamic construction of interdependent social webs and processes. Social processes exist in space and in fact produce spatial organization.While the legacy of the Chicago School has continued to be critiqued, it has not been dismissed but adapted and reformulated. Decades after the initial work of the Chicago School, Robert J. Sampson (also at The University of Chicago) produced a study of that city which focused on the same processes and phenomena: the creation and recreation of communities and the impact of place.19 Although he has been considered by many as carrying on the legacy of Robert Park, Sampson diverges at a critical point in not analyzing neighborhoods as being as clearly bounded as his predecessors had done. Neighborhoods are not necessarily insular, but the result of webs of social interactions, both within and transcending the community boundaries—such as the forces of the global political economy and the influx of new immigrants, religious, and voluntary groups that are engaged simultaneously in the production of local space.

8

Introduction

The ecological paradigm has continued to influence research in urban religion as a situated phenomenon.The influence has not just been on the theoretical spatial perspective on religion but on methodology as well, especially valuing qualitative methods, which is further discussed in the chapter on “Studying Cities and Religions: Emergent Meanings and Methodologies.” A generation of researchers have developed the ecological model in studying religion in cities. The work of Robert Sampson, Robert Orsi, Omar McRoberts, Lowell Livezey, and others have fine-tuned the model as we move into the dynamism of the post-modern metropolis. Spatial approaches to urban religion also draw on other analytical schools, including the Los Angeles School of Urbanism and the work of UCLA political geographer and urbanist Edward Soja.The Los Angeles School of Urbanism is focused on rapidly evolving cities that are decentralized, fragmented, deindustrialized, and reproduced by global capital, communications, and larger forces transcending their boundaries.This post-modern theory was developed in Los Angeles and reflects that context as the Chicago School was developed in the context of that modern city. Soja was greatly influenced by the work of French Marxist social theorist Henri Lefebvre, particularly his book, The Production of Space.20 Lefebvre’s argument is that space is socially constructed through myriad social processes engaging meanings and political economy. Soja identifies Lefebvre’s work with “the Spatial Turn” which brought a spatial awareness to “every discipline.”21 He summarized Lefebvre’s contribution in his own groundbreaking work, Thirdspace: “We are first and always historical-social-spatial beings, actively participating individually and collectively in the construction/production—the becoming of histories, geographies, societies”22 His gaze, with that of Lefebvre, was on lived space, where the contradictions and multivalent intersections of spaces, ideologies, economics, cultures, power, and experience exist and move. Binary constructions (such as black/white, sacred/profane, city/suburb, subject/object) are confining and no longer represent the complexity of lived space, if they ever did. Nowhere is the interaction of religion and cities more complex—and in need of sophisticated analysis—than in the movement of peoples, at once pushed and pulled by political, economic, cultural, and religious dynamics.To study cities is to study immigration, and to look at immigration is to consider the role of religion as being at the core of the urban dynamics over time and space. As waves of immigrants establish themselves in cities, urban space becomes a patchwork of cultures and peoples, bounded by ethnic identities and often organized around a temple, synagogue, mosque, or church.The towers and spires of sacred places are often at the geographic and cultural center of urban neighborhoods. Even if a sacred space is not yet built, the practice of religion can intensify religious and ethnic identity. Religion scholar R. Scott Hanson found this phenomenon in his study of Flushing, New York. “Because of the separation from their countries of origin, new immigrants are sometimes even more conscious of authenticity in replicated and transplanting their religious traditions than they were before they emigrated.”23 Contributors Cimino and Tokke found this dynamic continues to be true in their research in the religious “super diversity” of Queens as the distinctiveness of faith creates a sense of social locatedness. In the religious diversity of Mumbai, India, religion scholar István Keul looks at cultural understandings of “cosmopolitanisms.”While for many tolerance of difference is a point of pride, below the surface there is often more ambivalence about “the other.” In these very different contexts, immigration has created religious pluralism, which is at once shaping the identities of individual groups in their lived awareness of, and relation to, other religions. Im/migrants may be pushed by poverty and persecution from their home countries and regions, and pulled by the prospect of economic opportunity, political, and religious freedom, to

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cities, although the social processes of immigration are far more complex and dynamic than a two-dimensional push/pull. As “strangers in a strange land,” they establish religious institutions to enable them to claim space and construct spatial identity. For Catholic immigrants coming to North America, the identification of the “parish” area mapped a geographic space identified with the central church (in some urban areas, such as New Orleans, neighborhoods are still referred to, in fact, as parishes).After generations of waves of newcomers come and claim space, the layers of this history are worn by buildings through faded signage, chipped stucco, and distinct architectural embellishments. The social processes involved in the construction of the cultural boundaries is generated from within and from without.As diversity proliferates, an appreciation for pluralism can result, even a culture of tolerance or cosmopolitanism, but so can religious-based conflicts, which also serve to solidify religious and spatial identity. The sensationalized ascription of depravity and threat can incite outsiders to avoid and isolate, or even attack, neighborhoods of another ethnic and religious identity. Amidu Elabo’s chapter explores the meanings and ideological claims that ethnic and religious groups attach to religious buildings and sites, even after attacks have occurred. Elabo’s research explores how religious buildings are both construed as sites for spatial dominance and used as ideological buffers against the so-called territorial expansion of the religious “other” in the urban center of Jos North, Nigeria. Over the last several years, dramatic movements of people have occurred in many parts of the globe, including the Rohingya in Asia and the Syrians fleeing war who traveled through Turkey into Northern Europe and Scandinavia. The experience of these socially vulnerable refugees has been captured in two of the chapters in this volume. Niclas Blåder describes the ambivalent welcome refugees have received in Stockholm, as civil society engaged what was a human crisis in 2015. The Swedish national identity of tolerance, but also of homogeneity, was challenged. Anthropologist M Ala Uddin found in his study of the Rohingya in Bangladesh that they also encountered ambivalence, as they were welcomed in one city but discriminated against in another.As refugees and immigrants often experience dangerous journeys, the destination cities might not be the harbors of safety and opportunity that they had imagined. Through a social process known as ethnogenesis, migrants choose destinations because of the social and cultural capital they offer—kinship networks and institutions. For African Americans, particular communities of faith drew them to specific urban neighborhoods during the waves of what is called “The Great Migration.” In many cases, whole congregations would relocate to Northern cities, reconstituting their rural Southern religion in a context that might otherwise seem alien.24 In cities such as New York,Washington, Philadelphia, Chicago, and Detroit, Black religion provided identity, social cohesion, and care. Art is one medium through which im/migrant communities claim their new space as home. Through religious ritual and cultural expressions they can build up their collective identity and challenge existing urban stratification. Michael McLaughlin’s essay studies murals from the New Negro Movement in Harlem, New York, and analyzed how these artworks engage “racial aesthetics” and bring religious significance to their surroundings. Amanda Furiasse’s chapter skillfully engages multiple disciplines to explain how art and digital technologies merge with religious ritual to redress multiple forms of exclusion mapped on to a city’s landscape, and explores the geopolitical consequences of this art. This chapter highlights why art and digital technologies must be included in the study of religion and cities, especially as we discuss im/ migration, identity, and social conflict. The dynamics of race, as of ethnicity, cannot be underestimated in shaping the spatial organization of cities. As Black neighborhoods were established in American cities, their boundaries were constructed as much by those outside the neighborhoods. Public policies, economic forces, 10

Introduction

and social dynamics conspired to define and often isolate African American neighborhoods similar to the construction of Jewish ghettoes in European cities. Residential segregation patterns in cities are often identifiable by racial demographics, a phenomenon well-documented by scholars.Although religion is often missing in the historic analyses, it is often a key factor to the racial and ethnic construction of neighborhoods. Not only can it be a variable in residential segregation, by reinforcing racialized identity through its institutions and by its complicity in “white flight” migrations of people out of communities, it can also provide counter-narratives to community homogenization and contribute to diversification of racial/ethnic mapping. Journalist Kristin Holmes analyzes the confluence of economic forces and religious commitment in both promoting and critiquing the current wave of gentrification. Economic forces impacting cities and religions extend beyond local real estate markets. As can be seen in the issue of refugees, there are geopolitical forces at work as well. Oil interests in the Middle East and political struggles between the so-called Super Powers created an explosive situation which shattered former allegiances and commitments. The resulting messy civil war prompted the massive migration from Syria, which was also fueled by climate change and political repression that pushed Africans to flee.As the coronavirus pandemic makes abundantly clear, cities and religions are impacted by forces that are global in nature.

Theorizing religion and cities While no one theory holds complete explanatory power of urban religion, any attempt to make sense of the complex interaction between religion and post-modern cities must be able to analyze the simultaneous interaction of forces, from global to local, at physical, cultural, political, and economic levels. This intersection of processes creates cities and religions that are continually being reproduced and redefined in their mutual engagement. There is a “new urban landscape” in which city space continues to change in new, more complex and dynamic ways in the early twenty-first century. Forces both global and local interact in impacting urban space, often referred to as “glocalization.”The question is then asked by the post-modern urbanists, “Who owns the city?” and defies simplistic analysis. Increasingly, sociologist Saskia Sassen argues, globalized forces through the logic of capital create a series of “expulsions,”25 that redefine “lived space.” Not just the literal expulsions of peoples (seen in waves of immigrants), but the expulsion of the peoples from land ownership through financial policies and practices, and the resulting expulsion of cultures.The expulsions impact the most vulnerable—the poor and the incarcerated are relegated first to the margins and then to invisibility. This complements Soja’s approach to urban analysis that leads to an understanding of injustice which becomes spatialized26 in the Thirdspace. Here history, place, social processes, and meanings interact, and there is also space for perspective, critique, and social action. It is also in this third space where religion has agency, although often missing in urban analysis. The challenge to find theoretical frames that hold all this is daunting. Certainly, urban theories cannot be reductionist or predictive. Ethnographic methodologies are more localized projects that often seek theories that are “grounded” in lived realities—that is, theory emerges from context. In the specific case of Baltimore’s “ghosts,” Morales and Bisticas-Cocoves draw on theories of Derrida in interpreting the particularity of that context. But are there broader theoretical constructions that link the many studies of cities and religions as represented in this volume? Increasingly public theologians and ethicists are engaging the discourse of religion and cities in a way that holds the complexities of the dynamics described here as well as the injustices that are revealed.They are beginning to reimagine the city beyond the binary of the place of redemption or condemnation. Finding resonance with post-modern urban theorists such as 11

Katie Day and Elise M. Edwards

Soja and Sassen has opened up theological imagination. British urban theologians Christopher Baker27 and Chris Shannahan28 describe the need for more expansive urban theologies: However, if urban theologians are not to be dismissed as blinkered, one-dimensional analyses of oppression must be discarded. Creative but critical partnerships with progressive voices in social theory and cultural studies can enable the re-fashioning of existential liberation in a manner that is both rooted and intellectually viable.29 Several of those voices are represented in this volume and reflect the “bilinguality” that is essential for doing public theology.30 That is, they must be able to be in meaningful dialogue with fields such as global economics, science, political science, or sociology in order to be credible in public discourse. Gone is the time in which theological perspectives could merely condemn or naively romanticize the city; rather an informed and sophisticated analysis is required.Australian public theologian Clive Pearson discusses the vulnerability of the climate crisis in dialogue with science, and the possibility of theology to make meanings in the context of a dystopic future in his chapter here. Contributor Kevin Hargaden brings the lens of theological ethics in his critique of neoliberal economics and its devastating impact on creating homelessness in Dublin, Ireland. Samantha Cavanagh addresses smart cities, in which software, hardware, and the practice of data collection and information sharing are incorporated into the built environment for presumably a just end. Cavanagh uses the theo-ethical concept of justice-seeking-love to interrogate these claims for a proposal of smart development in Toronto. Each of these chapters reflect analyses of global forces that have local impacts, and expose and create social injustice. The possibilities of religious theorists to wrest meaning out of the dynamic and to contribute to the common good then bears weight. Here, then, is a distinct contribution of seeing religion in the urban ecology: frames for understanding injustice and suffering, resources for mobilization, and the curation of public memory. Religion, particularly, resists the expulsion of memory and is a conveyor of tradition. In an urban thirdspace, it can engage in the pursuit of justice that is spatial. Of course, as much of the research contained here testifies, religion itself is ambivalent. It is in relationship with its contexts and can be adversarial or engaged in pursuit of a common good. Religion can attempt to speak in a decontextualized normative voice. But a deeper understanding of the nuanced relationship of religions and cities as mutually engaged is essential.We offer this volume in that service.

Structure of this Handbook This volume is organized into three parts that establish the “state of the field” for newcomers to the discipline of religion and cities and its more experienced researchers. Introduced by Katie Day’s look at the genealogy, features, and methods of an ecological approach to research on religion and cities, the first collection of chapters, Part I: “Research methodologies,” highlights the different research methods being used in contemporary religion and cities scholarship.These chapters include case studies which convey how methods are being applied to specific urban contexts. Even in its descriptions of methodologies, scholarship in this volume never abandons the particularity and contextuality of religion. As such, it navigates the tensions between the global and the local, and religious theory and practice. The second group of chapters, Part II, is gathered under the heading “Religious frameworks and ideologies in urban contexts.”These chapters discuss the ways religion interprets and challenges conventional understandings of cities. How do religious communities interpret city life and city identities? What is the role of religion in making meaning of urban life? How do 12

Introduction

religious and other cultural and social narratives about urban life challenge each other? Many of these chapters consider ways that religion intersects with traditional development patterns and emerging urban typologies—suburbs, smart cities,“ghost estates,” and even mobile cities, which provoke reflection on how cities themselves are defined. Spatial analysis and inquiries into the identity of place are threaded throughout these chapters. The third and largest collection of chapters is Part III: “Contemporary issues in religion and cities.” These chapters focus on contemporary challenges in urban life and the ways religion factors into our analysis of these challenges, as well as the way religious communities respond. Gentrification, underemployment, immigration, the refugee crisis, LGBTQ rights, racism, violence, and climate change are but a few issues addressed in these chapters. These all remain pressing issues for lived religion as well as the academic study of it.The understanding of urban dynamics as well as religious communities presented here can aid religious leaders, policy makers, and planners in making decisions about the allocation of resources (funding and land, especially in zoning decisions). In a time when the world’s population is extended to become increasingly urbanized, the study of religion in relation to these issues within urban contexts is also particularly relevant for the academy. As can be seen in the Table of Contents, contributors come from a variety of fields and bring research from Nigeria, Sweden, Israel, Canada, New Zealand, India, Hong Kong, Indonesia, as well as from cities in the US to this Handbook. Religious subjects represent the traditions of Islam, Judaism, Christianity, and Hinduism, as well as new religious movements.To date, there has not been a volume which collects contributions from a number of contexts, and represents a diversity of religions, disciplines, and research methods.We envision that The Routledge Handbook on Religion and Cities to not only fill that niche but also establish the “state of the field” for newcomers to the discipline.

Notes 1 This has been argued elsewhere by the author (Day) including “Urban Space and Religion in the United States,” in Oxford Encyclopedia of Religion in America. Dylan White, ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press), 2017: http://religion.oxfordre.com/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780199340378.001.0 001/acrefore-9780199340378-e-470?rskey=qZ3KEy&result=40. 2 This is the subject of a rare analysis and critique of urban planning’s neglect of religion in Mazumdar, Sanjoy and Shampa Mazumdar, “Planning, Design and Religion: America’s Changing Urban Landscape,” Journal of Architectural and Planning Research,Vol. 30, No. 3 (Autumn, 2013), pp. 221–243. 3 Robert Bellah, Religion in Human Evolution: From the Paleolithic to the Axial Age (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press), 2011, p. 215. 4 Bellah, Religion in Human Evolution: From the Paleolithic to the Axial Age, Chapters 3 and 4. 5 Jeremiah 29:7 (New Revised Standard Version). 6 Sigurd Bergmann, “Making Oneself at Home in Environments of Urban Amnesia: Religion and Geology in City Space,” International Journal of Public Theology,Vol. 2 (2008), pp. 77–78. 7 Genesis 11:1-9; Isaiah 21:9; Revelation 14:8, 18:2. 8 Robert Orsi, Gods of the City (Bloomington: Indiana University Press), 1999, p. 31. 9 Omar McRoberts, Streets of Glory: Church and Community in a Black Urban Neighborhood (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press), 2003. 10 Interview with Omar McRoberts: www.press.uchicago.edu/Misc/Chicago/562166in.html. 11 Daniel Callahan, The Secular City Debate (New York: Macmillan), 1966. 12 Robert Bellah, Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Commitment in American Life (Los Angeles: University of California Press), 1985. 13 Katie Day, Faith on the Avenue: Religion on a City Street (New York: Oxford University Press), 2014. 14 Madeleine Albright, The Mighty and the Almighty: Reflections on America, God and World Affairs (New York: HarperCollins), 2006.

13

Katie Day and Elise M. Edwards 15 Robert E. Park, Ernest W. Burgess, and Roderick D. McKenzie, The City (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press), 1925; Robert E. Park and Ernest W. Burgess, Introduction to the Science of Sociology (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press) 1921 (Third Edn, 1969). 16 Louis Wirth, The Ghetto (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press), 1928. 17 Robert W. Lake, ed., Readings in Urban Analysis: Perspectives on Urban Form and Structure (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press), 1983, pp. 65–67. 18 McRoberts, Streets of Glory: Church and Community in a Black Urban Neighborhood, pp. 10–11. 19 Robert J. Sampson, Great American City: Chicago and the Enduring Neighborhood Effect (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press), 2014. 20 Henri Lefebvre, translated by Donald Nicholson-Smith, The Production of Space (Oxford: Blackwell), 1991; originally published in French: La Production de L’espace, 1974. 21 Interview with Edward Soja: www.jssj.org/article/la-justice-spatiale-et-le-droit-a-la-ville-un-entretienavec-edward-soja/. 22 Edward Soja, Thirdspace: Journeys to Los Angeles and other Real-and-Imagined Places (Oxford: Blackwell), 1996, p. 73. 23 R. Scott Hanson, City of Gods: Religious Freedom, Immigration and Pluralism in Flushing, Queens (New York: Fordham University Press, 2016), p. 20. 24 Katie Day. Faith on the Avenue: Religion on a City Street (New York: Oxford University Press), 2014, Chapter 7 (“Urban Flux”). 25 Saskia Sassen, Expulsions: Brutality and Complexity in the Global Economy (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press), 2014. 26 Edward W. Soja, Seeking Spatial Justice (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press), 2010. 27 Christopher Baker, Hybrid Church in the City: Third Space Thinking (New York: Ashgate/Routledge), 2007, 2016. 28 Chris Shannahan, Voices from the Borderland: Re-imagining Cross-cultural Urban Theology in the Twenty-first Century (London: Equinox), 2010. 29 Shannahan, Voices from the Borderland: Re-imagining Cross-cultural Urban Theology in the Twenty-first Century, p. 23. 30 Elaine Graham, Between a Rock and a Hard Place: Public Theology in a Post-Secular Age (London: SCM Press), 2013.

14

PART I

Research methodologies

2 STUDYING RELIGION AND CITIES Emergent meanings and methodologies Katie Day

The world’s population is overwhelmingly religious, and becoming more so. It is estimated that the percentage of global citizens who are religiously unaffiliated will fall in the next 30 years, from 16% in 2010 to about 13% in 2050.1 Another shift projected in the same time frame is that more of us will live in cities. Currently, 55% are urban dwellers, but that proportion is on track to swell to more than 2/3 of the world’s people.2 Certainly the growth in cities raises questions of sustainability of climate and urban structures which will, no doubt, be researched in great detail. But what about a growing religious population in these urban contexts? In what ways will religion be shaped by new urban realities? And how will religion shape these cities? To ignore these concurrent trends is to assume they have little to do with each other—that urbanization will proceed apace and that religion is benign, swept up in the tide, without agency. As was argued in the introduction, there is a very thin tradition of studying religion in cities. There is certainly research on religions and faith communities, but it is too often decontextualized. In a parallel research universe, urban studies, urban planning, and urban theory have largely ignored religion as a factor in the organization and life of cities.This oversight is a just beginning to be a point of self-critique in these fields.3 Although literatures on both cities and religion are vast, the ecological model directs our research gaze to the interaction of the two: what are the processes at work by which religions are being shaped by their urban contexts and reciprocally shaping the neighborhoods and cities in which they are located? What would cities look like if religions evaporated? How would this impact urban cultures, economies, politics, spatial arrangements, and built environments? And what about religious groups and institutions in cities is influenced by the particularities of their urban location? How does city space influence religious practices, beliefs, civic participation, and habitation? The narrow focus in the ecological model, in other words, is on those dynamic synapses between religions and cities, each changed by their co-existence and, more importantly, their interaction. The complexity of the organizing research question is daunting and relatively few researchers have waded in. It requires knowledge and skills in both urban studies and religion. Historically, there have been some influential studies that have become touchstones for the developing field of religion and cities, which have contributed theoretical frames and methodological approaches. Although a full sociology of knowledge analysis of the field is beyond the scope of this chapter, some of these touchstones are included below. 17

Katie Day

In 1899, African American sociologist W.E.B. DuBois published The Philadelphia Negro. It was the result of a 15-month study based at the University of Pennsylvania “into the condition of the forty thousand or more people of Negro blood now living in the city of Philadelphia.”4 Free Blacks had long lived in Philadelphia which had consequently become a destination for the Underground Railroad for many escaping slavery.After Emancipation, there was an influx of African Americans bringing the population to over 40,000 (out of a total population of just over 1,000,000). After carefully recounting the history of “Negroes” in Philadelphia, DuBois presents his findings of a methodical door-to-door survey, hand-drawn mapping, and participant observation in the community. He describes the demographics, institutions, and associations of Black Philadelphians in meticulous detail, with religion occupying an important dynamic in their settlement and organization. Their Southern rural religiosity was changed by the new urban context. But Philadelphia was changed as well—culturally, politically, and economically. DuBois reported that there were 55 Negro churches at the time, which were creating economic opportunities (such as catering companies), relief networks, and a political base. Not only did the newcomers represent a voting bloc, they had economic power as well. The churches owned properties cumulatively worth $907,729,5 which would be valued at over $28,000,000 today. DuBois documented the social conditions and everyday life of Black Philadelphians in painstaking attention to detail, both in gathering his quantitative data and in the narrative of his ethnographic research. Although he describes everything from housing, health, crime, and education to race relations, his purpose goes beyond just describing a reality. DuBois hoped his research could not only enlighten but facilitate social change. There were other touchstone researchers working in the first half of the twentieth century who advanced the study of religion and cities. The influence of the Chicago School of urban theory cannot be overestimated in informing scholarship in the field. In the 1920s, Robert Park, Louis Wirth, and Ernest Burgess at The University of Chicago were developing an “ecological” approach to analyzing cities as systems of actors in symbiotic and dynamic relationships through which their spatial and social arrangements developed.They were appropriating the biological model of Darwinism, a dominant paradigm whose influence extended far beyond life sciences. Even though religion did not figure into their analysis as a major actor in the growth and change of cities, the model was a significant one for researchers of urban religion. Samuel C. Kincheloe was an ordained clergyperson who got his Ph.D. in sociology at The University of Chicago at the height of the Chicago School. He joined the faculty of Chicago Theological Seminary to teach sociology of religion, and drew on the ecological approach in analyzing the interaction of Chicago’s changing demographics and the city’s religious institutions.6 Central to the biological model is the relationship of the environmental ecology to the institutions within which it must adapt or change in order to survive. Sociologist H. Paul Douglass, trained at both The University of Chicago and Columbia University, was a contemporary of Kincheloe and shared his research interest in adaptation and survival within the urban ecology.As Director of the Institute for Social and Religious Research, he oversaw a dizzying number of studies using surveys of churches in cities. He published almost a book a year for the 13 years he was at the Institute, with his best-known work being Church in the Changing City.7 He too was focused on how cities were changing through im/migration and what that meant for the survival of city churches. Before “white flight” had been coined in the following generation, Douglass was documenting through quantitative research that institutional survival was leading churches to follow their constituents to the growing suburbs, a social distancing by race and class.8 Far from generating research for its own sake, Douglass hoped that data could be used to transcend divisive social boundaries and foster religious unity. 18

Studying religion and cities

Later, as a project within the Works Projects Administration in 1940, sociologist St. Clair Drake further drew on the ecological model in studying the proliferation of African American churches as a result of migration from the South into Chicago.9 In his use of the model, Drake documented that, while new Black churches in Chicago were a direct result of larger movements of people, this did not suggest that the mutual engagement of city and religion was a passive,“natural” dynamic. Rather, expanding on Kincheloe and Douglass who saw the impact of the city on religion, Drake found that churches had agency in shaping the city politically and economically, as well as culturally.The city also had agency in shaping the religious institutions and where they would be located, especially through economic and cultural forces that constructed segregation. There is resonance with DuBois in his analysis of race, class, religion, and context for The University of Chicago-trained social scientist, an intellectual influence he later recognized. Historian John T. McGreevy also analyzed the ecological dynamics of religion and the mapping of American cities in his book on the development of Catholic parishes.10 As Catholic immigrants arrived from Europe in the last century, the Church established ethnic-specific congregations throughout cities. Irish, Italian, Lithuanian, Polish, and German congregations in imposing buildings “anchored” neighborhoods.They became social centers, reinforcing ethnic identities and solidarity not only for the church members but for neighborhoods as well. But their shaping of cities extended beyond ethnic identity to the construction of racial identity as well. The migration into northern cities of African Americans coarsened white identity, even as it challenged church leadership’s professed commitment to a universal church. McGreevy’s analysis teases out the subtle and complex mutual impact of religion and cities and is a model of an historical ecological approach. Another urban historian who has also incorporated ethnographic methods is Robert Orsi, whose contribution to the field cannot be overstated. His 1985 book, The Madonna of 115th Street: Faith and Community in Italian Harlem, 1880–1950,11 has been regarded as a classic in the field. Orsi used both historical research in document analysis and ethnographic interviews to drill down into the “lived religion” of Italian immigrants in Harlem in one formational annual festival of devotion to the Madonna of Mt. Carmel. This work came at a time when urban theory was just beginning to recognize culture as an important variable in the development of cities, along with political and economic capital. Orsi locates his study in this space:“Rethinking religion as a form of cultural work, the study of lived religion directs attention to institutions and persons, texts and rituals, practice and theology, things and ideas—all as media of making and unmaking worlds.”12 Orsi sees the everyday religious practices of believers as generative of social capital and empowerment in individuals. Even for poor Italian immigrants, this creates a sense of agency in engaging the city, rather than just adapting to it. He represents the religious experience of his interlocutors with deliberate respect, regarding them as subjects instead of objects. Later, this academic received letters from those he had interviewed saying that they had “recognized themselves” in his text. Orsi later edited a collection of research on cities and religions, Gods of the City,13 which represents an emerging generation of scholarship.The ten contributors present findings of ethnographic research from a variety of cities and religious contexts, including Japanese Protestants in Seattle, Afro-Cuban Santeria in Havana and New York, Hindus in Washington DC, and a Haitian Vodou community in New York.There is a diversity of academic disciplines represented among the writers, from history, anthropology, and art history to folklore. Orsi offers a substantial introduction that surveys the history of urban theory and imaginaries, and again articulates his view that religions in cities are inextricably related. Context shapes religious communities which impact their urban neighborhoods.“The spaces of the cities, their different topographies 19

Katie Day

and demographics, are fundamental to the kinds of religious phenomena that emerge in them.”14 The reciprocal process is also at work. City people have acted on and with the spaces of the city to make religious meanings in many different ways.They have appropriated public spaces for themselves and transformed them into venues for shaping, displaying and celebrating their inherited and emergent ways of life and understandings of the world.15 This paradigm is reflected in these varied ethnographies. As in The Madonna of 115th Street, the incorporation of photographs adds to the embodiment of the subjects as subjects. In their appreciative representation of lived religion, the subjects should be able to “recognize themselves” as presented in text and image. By the turn of the twenty-first century, the interrelationship of cities and religion was beginning to be taken seriously as indicated by an increase in publications, presence in academic guilds, research programs and, critically, funding.There was also a developing paradigm, a muchexpanded version of the Chicago School’s ecological model, and with it some common research methodologies. An important figure in this development was Lowell W. Livezey, a curious and energetic entrepreneurial researcher, who organized and led the Religion in Urban America Program (RUAP), based at the University of Illinois in Chicago. In the second half of the twentieth century, cities had experienced radical shifts through deindustrialization, increased im/migration into and emigration out of cities, spatial dislocation, and social polarization, all captured in the term “urban restructuring.” At the same time, religion was also undergoing its own restructuring, as religious pluralism was increasing and established institutional structures were declining while newer religions were growing. In an ecological frame, Livezey posed the question of how the two might be related: were dramatic changes in cities and religions in some way mutually engaging? Whereas the original urban ecology model would focus on adaptation and survival, Livezey posed his question differently: “Congregations are adapting to profound changes in context, but our interest goes beyond their strategies of survival and adaptation to consider how and to what extent they may reflect, resist, or influence the change itself.”16 Influenced by the earlier research of Samuel Kinchloe, Livezey designed a research project, well-funded by the Lilly Endowment, which enabled a research team to study 75 faith communities in 8 neighborhoods throughout Chicago over a 3-year period (1992–1995).The research methods were ethnographic for the most part in religiously varied sites. Research teams represented both “insider and outsider status,” as explained by Livezey: “because we wanted to observe our subjects ‘through each other’s eyes,’ aware that we had different capacities for perception and distortion.”17 So a Muslim researcher would study a mosque, along with a nonMuslim, or a white Catholic might be included in an African American Protestant site.As with Orsi’s work, photographs enabled a visual portal into the study; they also included maps to get a sense of the spatial location. Though the sites represented diversity in terms of race, ethnicity, class, size, and religious tradition, the RUAP team analyzed the subtle dynamics of urban and religious restructuring. The religious institutions had experienced the dislocation of urban restructuring in different ways, but all were “made up of people whose frames of reference have been shaken by some combination of structural and cultural change.”18 The religious institutions responded in different ways, engaging the challenges of their context directly (through social action) and indirectly (through cultural production and community formation). However, in Livezey’s analysis of the ethnographic findings and that of Stephen Warner in the Epilogue, the cultural production of 20

Studying religion and cities

these groups is not serving the construction of insularity and intolerance (as in the early ethnic parishes studied by McGreevy) but in fact is the religious agency through which these communities are creating moral meaning and pathways to bridging divisive boundaries and dislocations. Around the same time, Nancy Tatom Ammerman was directing a multi-city research project, the Congregations in Changing Communities Project, the findings of which are reported in Congregation and Community.19 Also funded by the Lilly Endowment, this ambitious project studied 23 congregations in 9 different communities, located in the metropolises of Los Angeles, Atlanta, Boston, Chicago, and Indianapolis, which had undergone cultural, demographic, and economic change. Building on the work of H. Paul Douglass, the big question for Ammerman was how existing faith communities changed as a result of shifts in their urban ecologies.A mixed research methodology was used, including survey data, participant observation, and structured interviews. Researchers directed their attention particularly at the dynamics around resources, authority, and cultures. They found that these communities of faith responded to contextual change in different ways, and were generators of social capital. However, like Livezey’s understanding of cultural production,Ammerman resists dichotomized analyses of public/private religion which support a cultural wars thesis interpretation or relegate bonding social capital to privatism.“It is one of the ironies of social life that individualism and communalism are utterly intertwined.”20 The context is impacted through social ties formed within the congregation that then form the basis for organizational link with other local, state, and national entities. In the first decade of the millennium, several other works were published drawing on the ecological model to research the interaction of religions and cities, building on earlier works. Nancy L. Eiesland looked at the relationship of urban and religious restructuring in A Particular Place: Urban Restructuring and Religious Ecology in a Southern Exurb,21 a study that grew out of her research on the Ammerman project. At a time when economic development was driving rampant “urban sprawl,” Atlanta had seen new housing construction rapidly expanding into rural lands and overwhelming small towns. Eiesland immersed herself into the changing religious institutions in the exurb of Dacula, Georgia. She found that, indeed, the rapid influx of newcomers into this rural community fostered restructuring within the “religious ecology.” Religious institutions were redefined and their status in the community was rearranged, these local processes a direct result of urban deconcentration.22 Drawing on organizational ethnographic methods, Eiesland looked at the interactions and relationships among the varied religious groups as “newcomers” and “old-timers” engaged each other. She found that the new chapter in the religious ecology provided multiple entry points for believers, and fostered “multilayered religious participation.” While focusing on the religious ecology within the broader urban ecology, she was able to tease out the dynamic intersection of the two. Omar McRoberts also utilized the frame of religious ecology within an urban ecology in his study of a particular neighborhood in Boston. In Streets of Glory: Church and Community in a Black Urban Neighborhood,23 he claims the strong theoretical influences of St. Clair Drake and Nancy Ammerman.While using dual ecologies as units of analysis can be confusing, he argues that they are deeply related, both having agency in shaping the other. McRoberts’ immersive ethnographic study focused on a single neighborhood (“Four Corners”) and the 29 faith communities within it, comprising what he calls a “religious district.” His central research questions revolve around why there is such density of congregations, how they differ, and how they are engaging the neighborhood. Economic and social forces are largely responsible for the availability of affordable buildings for rent in poor neighborhoods like Four Corners. Having so many churches can contribute to discouraging economic development or retarding deterioration, but neither addresses poverty in the area. Looking at the differentiation of congregations, McRoberts found that this results not only from its spaces and ethnicities, but also from myriad 21

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world views, understandings of peoplehood, assimilation, the meanings attached to their immediate space, and agency to impact the world. Within these particular religious communities social capital is being generated, but to what end? McRoberts found that, for the most part, it was not directed toward impacting the neighborhood. Many of the members came from outside the neighborhood and the activist organizations that did advocate for social change often had goals that transcended the local community. In this ecological analysis, the urban context was more active in shaping the religious presence rather than a robust reciprocity. One dimension where one could expect critical research on urban religion is in im/migration studies. Even a cursory look at the development of cities from antiquity onwards would recognize how newcomers from outside the city walls and from foreign shores impact their urban destinations. Im/migrants map cities by establishing a patchwork of communities, often anchored by a religious institution (such as described by McGreevy). Bringing diverse languages, cultures, and religions, they engage the dominant culture of their new context, both changing and being changed by it (as so richly described by Orsi). Immigration Studies has become established as a field, generating a growing community of scholars and production of research literature. However, until recently, very little of the focus in the field is on the religions of the im/migrants—the ways that it functions in building their collective identity and enables them to navigate and locate themselves.This was especially so for the wave of “new immigrants” coming to the US. As the numbers of those coming from European countries declined, the 1965 Immigration Act opened up the gates for newcomers from East and South Asia, the Middle East, the Caribbean and Latin America.The shift was dramatic, creating a new pluralism in the US, not only in terms of ethnicities but in the religions that they brought with them. Sociologist R. Stephen Warner critiqued the lack of attention to the religions of the new immigrants and developed the New Ethnic and Immigration Project—a research project supported by the Lilly Endowment. With Judith G. Wittner, they directed ten ethnographic case studies in several large cities and co-edited Gatherings in Diaspora: Religious Communities and the New Immigration.24 The number of chapters is limited, but the diversity of research sites is impressive—which included faith communities that were Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Protestant, Catholic, Orthodox Christian, and Rastafarian, with immigrants from China, Guatemala, Haiti, India, Iran, Jamaica, Yemen, and Mexico. The ethnographies are detailed descriptions of how faith functions in these groups in the development of their collective identities through building religious communities. Religious identity enables them to adapt to or resist the dominant culture of their new context, sometimes simultaneously.As they encounter new realities around social class, race, and gender, their meanings and practices are challenged and sometimes changed. Warner and Wittner draw out common themes from this diverse sample by first building in common questions for the research sites. They literally bookend Gatherings in Diaspora in an analytical introduction and conclusion by placing these very particular faith communities into the broader context of the globalization of production and the geo-politics of conflict. In 1998, they broke new ground and inspired a wave of research. Building on Warner and Wittner’s study, Helen Rose Ebaugh organized a research project that had a single-city focus in the South, a region not represented in the previous work. By focusing on 13 congregations of new immigrants in Houston, the Religion, Ethnicity and New Immigrant Research (RENIR) the research design enabled comparisons while holding constant the particular urban context. Through phone surveys, focus groups, studies of social service coalitions, and immersive ethnographic methodologies, detailed descriptions of both ethnic-specific and multi-ethnic congregations are presented in Religion and the New Immigrants: Continuities and Adaptations in Immigrant Congregations,25 published in 2000.The groups are richly varied, reflecting the changing demographics in the city:Vietnamese and Taiwanese Buddhists, 22

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Mexican Catholics and Protestants, Korean and Chinese Protestants, Argentinian Pentecostals, Pakistani Muslims and Zoroastrians, Greek Orthodox, South Indian Hindus, and two multiethnic congregations. In their analysis, Ebaugh and Chafetz expanded their attention beyond cultural production and identity, to the dynamics within the urban ecology. They found that fluctuations in the local economy (here, driven by the global oil market) had significant impacts on the congregations in their sample, including the location and plans for their buildings as well as the size and composition of their membership.26 Local cultures also exert constraints as well as opportunities for those in minority religions or ethnic groups. But these groups were not just at the mercy of the urban context, which they also impacted.Their agency was reflected in an array of social services offered, which support adaptation and assimilation (through language instruction), and cultural identity reproduction (community centers), but also contribute to meeting basic human needs. Since these two important studies, there have been other contributions to researching how religion is functioning among the new immigrants. A study of Filipino, Mexican, Salvadoran, Vietnamese, and Chinese faith communities in San Francisco, built on and pushed the ethnographic methodologies employed in the earlier studies. In Religion at the Corner of Bliss and Nirvana: Politics, Identity, and Faith in New Migrant Communities,27 careful ethnographies were conducted in ten congregations representing various expressions of Buddhist and Christian traditions. However, they found that their research “leaked out” beyond the congregations, families, and social service sites they were studying.They followed their migrant subjects into the streets of San Francisco, listening to gang members, sex workers, juvenile detention centers. “Had we stayed within the walls of a religious site or remained bound to a congregational model, we would have missed the strong and vibrant religiosity expressed by these highly marginalized groups of migrants.”28 The researchers also followed their subjects in their dynamic relationships with their countries of origin, developing a transnational paradigm. They provide a granular look into the personal dimensions of globalization as migrants become “bilocal,” through travel, economics, and politics. In some cases, the researchers themselves were bilocal. As with faithbased activism among Filipinos, the religious communities become the base for civic engagement and advocacy. As cities are increasingly caught up in the many facets of globalization, transnationalism becomes a helpful paradigm in looking at understandings of citizenship. It considers not only the back-and-forth movement of people, but the movement of ideas, cultural values, goods, religious practices, and capital.This is captured in Alyshia Galvez’s Guadalupe in New York: Devotion and the Struggle for Citizenship Rights among Mexican Immigrants.29 Her ethnographic research focuses on the devotion of Mexican immigrants in New York to Our Lady of Guadalupe.The transnationalism she found included a liturgical expression in the La Antorcha Guadalupana, a torch run from the Basilica of Guadalupe in Mexico City to St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York. Further, the practices of Guadalupan devotion centered an understanding of “cultural citizenship” that is agential in producing activism and self-advocacy. She quotes Saskia Sassen, who refers to this political movement as a space with “micro architectures for global civil society.” These works expand the perimeters of the “urban ecology,” to incorporate the globalization of contemporary cities. Continuing in this vein of exploring the dynamics of transnationalism is a study of African faith communities in New York by Mark Gornick.30 The touchstones discussed so far in this brief history of the study of religion in the urban ecology have been from the North American context. However, even as the recent works cited above on the new immigrants to the US explore the complex dynamics of a “lived globalization” mediated through religion and ethnicity, so too has the field itself become more globalized.A recent volume of research by an international group of scholars advances the study of 23

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religion and cities significantly, both in terms of ethnographic research and offering theoretical infrastructure. Published in 2017, Religion and the Global City31 builds on Saskia Sassen’s frame of “global cities.” Her focus was on New York, London, and Tokyo as “command centers” of the globalizing economy; the flow of capital was facilitated by transnational networks they and other global cities cultivated.32 Sassen did not include religion in her analysis, but, as a leading urban theorist, her work has been influential among scholars of urban religion. Globalization has developed exponentially in the last 30 years, in a number of dimensions beyond economics; it has redefined culture, technology, media, politics, built environments, and the migration of peoples. Religion, too, has been impacted by globalization and in fact has been a conveyor of it—shaping and being shaped by the global context. So the approach in the 2017 volume of research moves beyond Sassen’s political economy lens; rather, the analysis is “non-reductive … unpacking the interconnected role of religious and cultural flows in the making of global–local spaces which have taken different shapes in different urban contexts.”33 Further, Religion and the Global City represents a corrective to Western-centric urban theory and research by focusing on global cities in the Global South as well as the Global North.The chapters include research coming out of such cites as Bangalore, Sao Paulo, Beijing, and Cape Town, as well as London, Paris, and Amsterdam. As the writers document, it is not just capital but immigrants, cultures, and religions that flow through these global cities, transcending territoriality and creating hyper-diversity. Religion becomes a basic unit of globalization, but its embodiment is also local. In fact, religions bear the intersection of global and local, a dynamic which is the focus of the researchers.These faiths that are both global and local are lived out in city spaces. Rather than the city encouraging the decline of religion, the opposite is occurring. As religious immigrants claim their faith identities in a dynamic marketplace and encounter other religions, a “post-secularity” can create tolerance of religions and cosmopolitanism, a kind of background “hum” or “white noise” in contemporary urban dynamics, argues Chris Baker.34 Religion and the Global City represents the growth edge of the field of research in religion in the urban ecology that is continued in this collection.

Religion and Cities as a field In 2007, Lowell Livezey organized an effort to get a program unit for Religion and Cities at the American Academy of Religion (AAR). Here would be a space that scholars from a variety of disciplines could be in robust and ongoing dialogue about the dynamic relationship between religions and their urban contexts. Lowell lived to see the first session of Religion and Cities, the fruition of his determined effort35. Since 2007, Religion and Cities has held annual paper sessions at the AAR with scholars (many of whom are included in this volume) contributing from a variety of academic disciplines: history, anthropology, sociology, geography, architecture, urban planning, theology, and art. Dialogue has been furthered in co-sponsored sessions with Black Theology; Queer Studies; Religion and Film; Class, Religion, and Theology, among others.The ecological model at the theoretical center of Religion and Cities has been contested, expanded, and developed through multiple lenses throughout. Other projects have been inspired by the community of scholars who have connected through the hub at AAR, including the Center for the Study of Religion and Cities, based at Morgan State University and funded through the Luce Foundation. Of course, this volume is a result as well. The purpose of highlighting the “touchstones” has been to trace the development of a central idea, and see how it has evolved over time with each generation of scholarship.This history of research on religion in the urban ecology as presented here is not comprehensive, but meant to give a general topography of its progress and to explore the research methodologies that 24

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emerge.The lineage contained within this history is not a report of unrelated research projects. Rather, what is seen is how research has built on, and often been in dialogue with, scholarship that has come before—to expand or challenge earlier works, rather than simply replicate. These links form a kind of “academic begets,” or genealogy, which I have tried to draw out. For example, Omar McRoberts was influenced by the earlier research of St. Claire Drake, who was inspired by the work of W.E.B. DuBois. Nancy Ammerman cites H. Paul Douglass as a source of inspiration; Ammerman was a mentor to Nancy Eiesland and was an influence in Helen Rose Ebaugh’s analysis. Ebaugh was also building on the work of Stephen Warner on new immigrants. Elfriede Wedam had worked closely with Lowell Livezey in the Religion in Urban America Program. Later, she and Paul D. Numrich continued to research the congregations in the original sample, but also expanded on the breadth and depth of faith communities in Chicago they studied, taking into account both the dynamics of globalization and hyper-diversity. In analyzing the impact religion had on the urban context in Religion and Community in the New Urban America, published in 2015, Numrich and Wedam conclude that it is part of an “ensemble of forces shaping the new metropolis.”36 Livezey went on to found and direct the Ecologies of Learning Project to generate research in religiously diverse New York City from 2004 until his death in 2007.Three of the research fellows in that project, Richard Cimino, Nadia A. Mian, and Weishan Huang continued his research, published in Ecologies of Faith in New York City:The Evolution of Religious Institutions in 2013.37 Through mixed research methods in Korean, African, Brazilian, Taiwanese, and Eurodescent communities, they too were looking at religious institutions in the processes of contextual change, whether cultural or economic. It is a reflection of the intellectual genealogy of religion in cities that both of these last two volumes are dedicated to Lowell Livezey, and that Wedam and Cimino are contributors to this volume.Truly, no idea is an island, and no research stands alone.

Emerging research methodologies in the study of religion and cities How then to study the complex and dynamic presence of religions in urban spaces? How to tease out what can be subtle and multivalent social processes, essentially synapses in the urban ecology? Clearly, some methods and approaches have emerged over time. The early studies of religion in cities were conducted in Christian congregations, in the US, by academic sociologists (such as DuBois) and those affiliated with denominations and/or ecclesiastical institutions (Kincheloe, Douglass). Early researchers drew on survey data, as well as some ethnographic observation.Their dominant concern was on how im/migrants were changing the religious ecology: would predominantly white congregations survive? How did Black congregations reflect and/or reinforce segregated residential patterns? As urban change accelerated in the last century, with economic restructuring and increasing engagement with the many facets of globalization, research methods also changed. Some research questions focused on how the restructuring occurring in cities and religious institutions might be related (Livezey, Eiseland). Here, analyses drew on other disciplines in developing a coherent narrative, including economics and organizational theory. As the field has evolved in the contexts of rapidly changing cities, it has become clear that it was necessarily becoming multi-disciplinary. Further, the sheer diversity of cities and the faith communities within them resisted a monolithic explanatory theory and publications have moved away from monographs to edited collections of many researchers, studying multiple faith communities, from multiple disciplines. For example, Lorentzen et al. describe the academic disciplines represented in the research team of Religion at the Corner of Bliss and Nirvana: psychology, sociology, political science, 25

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art history, communication studies, anthropology, and religious studies.38 This intersection of fields means that theoretical insights from a broad assortment of literature can be brought to bear on understanding how the many moving parts of religions and cities are interacting. With the increasing im/migration, religious diversity (hyper-diversity) flourished, meaning that research on religion in cities is necessarily multi-faith, reflecting the religious pluralism. In this regard, some research has focused on how the interaction among various religious groups affects religious identity, whether reinforcing tolerance or exclusivism. Scott Hanson’s study of the hyper-diversity in Queens, New York, interrogated the limits of diversity in a dense human community. Although there were over 200 worshiping communities of a dizzying variety within 2.5 square miles, he found a surprisingly low level of social conflict, even with high differentiation.39 As described in the introduction, political geographer and urbanist Edward Soja of the LA School of Urbanism had adopted the view that urban space is socially constructed.40 This idea had created a paradigm shift in virtually every discipline, he argued, as they made what he described as a “spatial turn.”41 This has certainly been the case here, as a third mark of emerging research is incorporating a spatial approach in looking at the interaction of religions and their urban contexts. Religion is not a decontextualized socio-cultural phenomenon but one that is lived out in the streets, sidewalks, buildings, and commercial spaces of cities. It also has agency in the production of the built environment. Not only are sacred spaces built that impact the aesthetics, identity, demographics, and local economy of an urban community; faith communities also occupy existing commercial buildings, affecting their viability and impacting the social capital of the local neighborhood. Further, religion is lived out and performed in the streets and at times “claims” public spaces, such as when Muslims spill out from Jummah prayers onto streets filled with vendors, or Catholic processions wind through neighborhoods, filling them with sound and color. Faith practices can also be limited and challenged by the physical context, such as when policies or cultural exclusivities prevent acquisition of buildings. In other words, religion cannot be seen as disembodied but lived in relationship to its physical space in cities.The spatial turn is increasingly apparent in research on religion and cities and is critical to any analysis of their interaction. Robert Orsi described the relationship between religion and space: These specific features of the urban (and perhaps post-urban) landscape, which differ from city to city, are not simply the setting for religious experience and expression but become the very materials for such expression and experience. City folk do not live in their environments; they live through them.Who am I? What is possible in life? What is good? These are questions that are always asked, and their answers discerned and enacted, in particular places. Specific places structure the questions, and as men and women cobble together responses, they act upon the spaces around them in transformative ways.This is the architectonic of urban religion.42 The expansion and acceleration of globalization is often described in economic terms, yet it is articulated in numerous dimensions, including technology, communication, cultures, climate, disease, and geo-politics, as well as the mobility of capital. There has always been an intimate relationship of religion and globalization through the propagation of faith traditions and movement of peoples are two different things. Missionaries have always gone to other countries and are different than group migration. As seen in the more recent examples of touchstones above, then, globalization becomes central to understanding the dynamics of religion and cities.Through increased mobility, driven by economic opportunities (or perception of), a “bilocalism”43 or transnationalism is created which links geographically disparate places, facilitating pathways for 26

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the flow of cultures, values, religious practices, and ideas, as well as capital. Identities of place and person are fluid; meanings of citizenship, faith, and family are contested and reconstructed. These four approaches to research on religion and cities are critical to emerging scholarship. Cities and religions are both dynamic and interactive. To better understand and describe this interaction of religion in the urban ecology, research should draw on a number of fields (interdisciplinary), focus on the religious pluralism of the context (multi-faith), expand its gaze to include the built environment (spatiality), and be attentive the flow of globalization. All of this, of course, has ramifications for research methodologies. In an ecological approach, the researcher’s focus is not just on religion itself or on a city where faith groups happen to be present. Rather, the focus is on the interaction between religions and context—the synapses, if you will; those exchanges of energy between the two which result in change and action.The research question, therefore, hones in on agency—who is acting on whom? What is being shaped in the encounter and what is shaping? The central question should focus and compel the researcher to drill deeply. An early decision in the research process is to choose a unit of study that will provide the best examination of the religious presence in context.This could be a metropolitan area, such as Numrich and Wedam in their study of metropolitan Chicago,44 or a single city such as in Ebaugh’s choice of Houston for research on various new immigrant groups.45 Neighborhoods as analytic units, generally understood as geographic spaces which are walkable, have the advantage of controlling for space—that is, there is a common experience of sharing the physical environment (even when groups can have very different meanings and experiences within it). McRoberts looked at the question of why poor neighborhoods have more faith communities, and so focused on a particular neighborhood in Boston as the best context to capture observations.46 This author studied the varieties of religious engagement along a single street in Philadelphia that ran through several neighborhoods.47 Within these geographical units, organized communities of faith are then the subjects of study. Researchers must also define not only the geographical boundaries of study but the definition of “communities of faith,” “congregations,” “religious institutions,” or “religious gatherings.” There are some commonalities across research projects, but no set standard. Another approach is to study a particular question, but using a multi-city sample (such as by Ammerman48 as well as Warner and Wittner in their study of new immigrants).49 The advantage, of course, is that you can compare the same phenomenon in different locations. However, coordinated multi-city samples usually require large research grants. Collected volumes of research such as this one are usually multi-city (and with cities around the globe represented) and gather diverse research projects between two covers. These make developing theoretical constructs more challenging than in a coordinated study, even with multiple sites. Most scholars study religious engagement by going to recognized congregations, mosques, temples, gurdwaras, or other spaces of faith gatherings. However, how is religion expressed in non-religious spaces? Sociologist Courtney Bender conducted ethnographic research among volunteers in a non-profit agency that provided meals for those people living with AIDS who were homebound. She did not ask about religious beliefs or practices but listened and observed to see how faith might be related to volunteer activity. Her work offers unique insight into the religious agency in the urban ecology transmitted through the lived religion of individual practitioners. By “de-centering religion” she was able to see how it “happens” in a plethora of ways.50 In a later edited volume, Bender, with colleagues Wendy Cadge, Peggy Levitt, and David Smilde, argues for research methodologies that explore non-faith spaces in order to tease out the ways religion is engaging social contexts.51 Here in this volume, the research on cosmopolitanism in Mumbai by István Keul employs a de-centered approach as he waited for religion to come up 27

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as his interlocutors reflected on multicultural pluralism. As he writes here, this expanded his field of perception and curiosity; finally, he found that religion was difficult to isolate from other sources of identity. Conversely, there are studies that not only focus directly on religious communities but on a singular ritual as a portal into understanding religious agency and the impact of space on meanings and practices. Orsi’s examination of the festival of the Madonna in Harlem among Italian immigrants unpacks a complex dynamic embodied in a singular devotional ritual. It becomes a source of connecting with history, reinforcing identity, generating social capital, location of the self, empowerment, and claiming of urban space.52 Twenty-five years later, Galvez employed a similar research design, focusing on the devotional practices of Mexican immigrants in New York around the procession of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Her analysis revealed how transnationalism is lived out, as well as how it impacts understandings of citizenship and the consequential social actions of the practitioners. Units of analysis vary and are directly related to the research question(s) being pursued.They are also related to the research methods chosen in designing a study of religion in urban ecologies.What follows are some methodological elements that have emerged in the field over time, and especially in the most recent surge in research in this area.This is not intended as a how-to guide. In fact, another edited volume in this series of Routledge Handbooks in Religion goes in depth on the mechanics of a variety of research methods as well as theoretical considerations.53 A comprehensive study of the dynamics of religion in cities will be multi-disciplinary. If working with a research team, representation from a variety of academic disciplines will bring other lenses to the study. However, even the single researcher will need to draw on other fields and skills. Because of the pace of urban change and restructurings, it is important to provide an historical background for the geographic unit being studied. Most of the studies surveyed in this chapter begin with a description of the context, drawn from archival research. In order to understand the present it is critical to know what came before. History doesn’t repeat itself, but it rhymes—an insight attributed to Mark Twain. For example, Hanson found that the tolerance among the dense religious diversity in Flushing, NY, was resonant of the Flushing Remonstrance of 1657, a foundational document of religious freedom, yet not in the consciousness of the new neighbors.54 Understanding the history of a context is especially important in the study of religion, because central to the very project of religion is holding memory and ritually linking believers to the past, which counters so many of the social and economic forces that deny or expunge memory. As memory is performed in religious practice, it can be changed over time. This makes it essential to both understand the “facts” of history as well as the way they are carried by religion. In providing a context for a current study, additional data beyond the history is also helpful in setting the stage for a particular study. Quantitative data can help describe the context of the unit of study, especially demographic information on the population over time. How have the complexions and accents heard changed in recent years? What trends can be seen in education levels, income/poverty, occupation/unemployment, and health indicators? What is the nature of housing and how is that changing—proportions of owned or rented, condition, apartments or single-family structures, etc.? How are crime rates trending? What are the major institutions and interests affecting the local economy? However, when using census data, one should acknowledge that many groups (e.g., homeless people, immigrants, the poor) are undercounted.Whether studying one religious group or practice, or a number within the unit of analysis, it is essential to provide a rich description of the context—its history, demographics, and spatial context. Many studies also include maps in establishing the context, which are helpful in visualizing the geographic space, with the communities of faith under study plotted. 28

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In designing a research project, a critical decision is whether to use quantitative or qualitative approaches … or a combination of the two. Quantitative data can measure particular impacts of religion that can be measured—such as how a proliferation of religious institutions correlates with changes in crime or property values, for example. Surveys can capture beliefs, values, and practices for a larger sample that might be generalizable. One quantitative approach especially employed by sociologist Ram Cnaan is to calculate the social value of a religious institution in monetary terms. In his study for Partners for Sacred Places (“The Halo Effect”), 54 variables representing the contributions of an urban congregation are aggregated to a final sum of its contribution to its context.Variables include the most obvious (local businesses patronized, individuals employed) to monetizing the intangibles of improving quality of life through helping people find jobs, partnerships, recreation, and mental health. Even the contribution of having trees on the property is calculated—how they impact air quality, temperature, real estate values, etc.55 While this might seem an extreme form of quantitative methodology, the value of quantitative methods is that they often expose anomalies and areas for deeper exploration. For example, in his quantitative survey of immigrant religion, Philip Connor presents data that indicate that across all faith traditions, new immigrants attended services less frequently after settling in the US than they did in their own country.56 This contrasts with other, mostly ethnographic, studies that describe how religious practices and identity are intensified among new immigrants. So this raises a number of questions for exploration.What is going on here? Is the bigger picture captured in the quantitative data different than the particular experiences of faith communities studied more closely? Is worship attendance the best indicator of religious identity? Are other dynamics at work (such as the density of religious pluralism, or the presence of ethnic associations in the community, or a cultural climate of hostility or tolerance)? Quantitative data often directs the researcher to drill down into other areas of exploration. Ethnographic research famously gets us to the “thick description,” as developed by anthropologist Clifford Geertz in 1973.57 That is to say, the researcher does not simply record events, behaviors and practices, but explores the complex dynamics of relationship to context and the interpretation of meanings offered by interlocutors. Keen observation is best accomplished from the inside of culture, rather than looking in from the outside.The primary ethnographic methodology is immersion in a context over time as participant-observer.The value of ethnographic research is that one case is understood very well; its limitation is that it is not generalizable to a larger population but can only be suggestive of dynamics in other contexts. In larger studies and collected volumes, such as this one and others described earlier, multiple focused ethnographic studies can be brought into dialogue with one another. For a variety of reasons, the ethnographic approach has become the preferred methodology in studying religion in cities. This comes out of a recognition of the sheer diversity and dynamism of global cities and the religions in them that resist the development of explanatory meta theories.This has also emerged out of the post-modern critique of positivism and turn toward subjectivity.“Objectivity” is finally not possible; the researcher’s perception is not outside of the realities being observed, untouched by them. Rather, only by participating in a context can one come to understand it. Ethnographic research is finally relational in practice. In coming into a community as researcher, the very entrée is a process to be consciously navigated. In order for honest and insightful conversations to occur, there has to be a level of trust that is extended, and cannot be presumed.There are lots of reasons for potential informants to be distrustful of a researcher, particularly suspicions about academics furthering careers through writing about the experience of others and coming from a different class status.The researcher, therefore, has to be conscious of their social location and sensitive to how they are being perceived.Are they seen as an insider or an outsider? That is, do they share the religion, ethnicity, and social location of the community 29

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being studied? The value of shared background is that entrée is greatly facilitated and trust more easily extended. Also, an insider can understand the nuances of language and cultural dynamics. On the other hand, there is value in being an outsider, even though it might take longer to establish trust.An outsider can observe things that insiders might miss because they are so much a part of the familiar fabric. Outsiders can ask questions about language, behaviors, and beliefs that are taken for granted by members of a community. One model has been to have research teams of two—an insider and an outsider—to have the benefit of both perspectives.58 Ethnographic research, done well, is immersive over time (which can mean months or years). The researcher participates in the life of the community, which might mean attending worship, working in social service programs, going to meetings, “hanging out” in the community and patronizing its businesses, sharing meals, going to fairs and festivals, and having many conversations throughout, in both formal and informal interviews. The immersed ethnographer will know well the spatial and cultural environment being studied. Hanson wrote of his research in Flushing that, eventually, he “knew every part of every street at every time of day and night.”59 The goal is to understand the experience of people within their context, to see the world through their eyes. But this is not to say that the researcher becomes the other (the old trope within anthropology of “going native” is often overdrawn) but understands their experience as lived. In participant observation, the researcher will need to direct attention to the issue of the boundary of self.At what point in immersion does the researcher risk losing perspective? There is a balance: as much as the researchers are participants, they are also observers. The discipline of ethnographic research is to maintain a perspective on what is going on.This is best done through writing field notes immediately after every day in the field, or event. In comprehensive field notes, the researcher records everything they remember without concern for style or spelling. Everything should be considered data when looking at religion in the urban ecology—e.g., the sights, sounds, and smells of the street, how people are dressed, the type of music heard, the taste of food, the gender roles in activities, etc. Informal conversations should be recalled as closely as possible. Attention should be paid to the absences and silence as well: what is not being said? A final key element of field notes is self-reflection, that is, one’s own experience of the field, including emotions and assumptions that were exposed.This recognizes the inter-subjectivity of ethnographic research: both researcher and informants/interlocutors are subjects and impacted in the encounter. Over time, themes will become apparent in field notes: recurring language patterns, conflicts, framing of grievances and resources. Of course, this is greatly facilitated by having common questions across interviews in a single site or across sites. In analyzing field notes and designated interviews, more formalized coding (perhaps through ethnographic software) will enable the relationships, themes, and trends to become clearer. But even in writing field notes, anomalies as well as currents will become apparent, leading the researcher to deeper questioning. Perspective is also maintained through engaging with other researchers (even if not part of a team), as well as with the community of scholars in the area of interest. Reading in the field as well as communication not only helps to nurture perspective but addresses the very real possibility of isolation. Research can be lonely … but it does not have to be. There are multitudinous resources available in skill development in all aspects of ethnography including entrée, interviewing, and focus groups, field notes, coding, discourse analysis, etc. Of course, during a pandemic shutdown, face-to-face ethnography becomes difficult if not impossible. There is a growing number of resources online for conducting ethnographic research remotely such as on Sage Ocean.60 Through creative use of technology, ethnographers can recruit participants, observe gatherings, conduct interviews, have the audio transcribed, and code the transcripts. Although interruptions such as the shutdown present challenges for 30

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all human interaction, including religion and cities, ethnographers have found creative ways to conduct research. In fact, in the midst of seismic change, research is all the more needed. It is often said that ethnography is finally more an art than a skill. As there has been a proliferation of research on religion in the urban ecology in recent years, the research methods themselves are becoming more artistic. Photographs are much more prevalent now, a methodology discussed in this volume by Roman Williams and Timothy Shortell.Williams also edited a book on Seeing Religion:Toward a Visual Sociology of Religion.61 In her chapter here, Rupa Pillai describes using GIS (Geographical Information System) in spatially mapping urban religions— in this case, Caribbean Hinduism through their religious flags (jhandis). James Edmunds in his chapter engages the spatiality of religion by interrogating traditional understandings of urban space and introducing the possibility of “ephemeral cities.” He is also working on a book on “religion and smell.” Cities and religions are changing, independently and in relationship. As the study of faiths in the urban ecology continues to try to capture those elusive synapses between city and religion that reciprocally shape each other, so too are new methodologies emerging. As the field becomes more multi-disciplinary, incorporating dynamics of globalization and religious pluralism, and turning its analytical gaze to a more spatial orientation, new voices are coming to the project. Many of those voices, who are also bringing new methodologies, are present in this volume. We hope this collection further inspires an emerging generation of scholarship on religion and cities.

Notes 1 Pew Research,“7 Key Changes in the Global Religious Landscape,”April 2, 2015. www.pewresearch. org/fact-tank/2015/04/02/7-key-changes-in-the-global-religious-landscape/. 2 CNBC, “Two Thirds of the World’s Population Will Live in Cities by 2050, UN Says,” May 17, 2018. www.cnbc.com/2018/05/17/two-thirds-of-global-population-will-live-in-cities-by-2050-un-says. html. 3 Mazumdar, Sanjoy and Shampa Mazumdar. “Planning, Design and Religion: America’s Changing Urban Landscape,” Journal of Architectural and Planning Research,Vol. 30, No. 3 (Autumn, 2013). 4 DuBois, W.E.B. The Philadelphia Negro:A Social Study (New York: Schocken Books), 1899. First Edn, p. 1. 5 DuBois, W.E.B. The Philadelphia Negro, p. 221. 6 Kincheloe, Samuel C. The American City and Its Church (New York: Friendship Press), 1938. 7 Douglass, H. Paul. Church in the Changing City (New York: Doran), 1927. 8 Douglass, H. Paul. The Suburban Trend (New York:The Century Company), 1925. 9 Drake, St. Clair. Churches and Voluntary Associations in the Chicago Negro Community (Chicago, IL:Works Progress Administration District 3), 1940. 10 McGreevy, John T. Parish Boundaries: The Catholic Encounter with Race in the Twentieth Century Urban North (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press), 1997. 11 Orsi, Robert A. The Madonna of 115th Street: Faith and Community in Italian Harlem, 1880–1950 (New Haven, CT:Yale University Press, 1985). 12 Orsi, Robert A. The Madonna of 115th Street: Faith and Community in Italian Harlem, 1880–1950, p. xxxvii. 13 Orsi, Robert A., ed. Gods of the City (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press), 1999. 14 Orsi, Robert A., ed. Gods of the City, p. 45. 15 Orsi, Robert A., ed. Gods of the City, p. 47. 16 Livezey, Lowell W., ed. Public Religion and Urban Transformation: Faith in the City (New York: New York University Press), 2000, p. 6. 17 Livezey, Lowell W., ed. Public Religion and Urban Transformation: Faith in the City, p. ix. 18 Livezey, Lowell W., ed. Public Religion and Urban Transformation: Faith in the City, p. 21. 19 Ammerman, Nancy Tatom. Congregation and Community (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press), 1997.

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Katie Day 20 Ammerman, Nancy Tatom. Congregation and Community, p. 353. 21 Eiesland, Nancy L. A Particular Place: Urban Restructuring and Religious Ecology in a Southern Exurb (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press), 2000. 22 Eiesland, Nancy L. A Particular Place: Urban Restructuring and Religious Ecology in a Southern Exurb, p. 80. 23 McRoberts, Omar. Streets of Glory: Church and Community in a Black Urban Neighborhood (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press), 2003. 24 Warner, R. Stephen and Judith G. Wittner. Gatherings in Diaspora: Religious Communities and the New Immigration (Philadelphia, PA:Temple University Press), 1998. 25 Ebaugh, Helen Rose and Janet Saltzman Chafetz. Religion and the New Immigrants: Continuities and Adaptations in Immigrant Congregations (New York:Alta Mira Press), 2000. 26 Ebaugh, Helen Rose and Janet Saltzman Chafetz. Religion and the New Immigrants: Continuities and Adaptations in Immigrant Congregations, p. 337. 27 Lorentzen, Lois Ann, Joaquin Jay Gonzalez III, Kevin M. Chun, and Hien Duc Do, eds. Religion at the Corner of Bliss and Nirvana (Durham, NC: Duke University Press), 2009. 28 Lorentzen, Lois Ann, Joaquin Jay Gonzalez III, Kevin M. Chun, and Hien Duc Do, eds. Religion at the Corner of Bliss and Nirvana, p. x. 29 Galvez, Alyshia. Guadalupe in New York: Devotion and the Struggle for Citizenship Rights among Mexican Immigrants (New York: New York University Press), 2010. 30 Gornik, Mark R. Word Made Global: Stories of African Christianity in New York City (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing), 2011. 31 Garbin, David and Strhan, Anna. Religion and the Global City (London: Bloomsbury Publishing), 2017. 32 Sassen, Saskia. The Global City: New York, London, Tokyo (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press), 1991, 2001. 33 Garbin, David and Strhan,Anna. Religion and the Global City, p. 9. 34 Chris Baker, “Religion as ‘Urban White Noise’—Material Practices of Everyday Religion at the ‘Unquiet Frontiers’ of the Hyper-Diverse City,” in Garbin, David and Strhan, Anna (eds). Religion and the Global City, p. 223 passim. 35 Lowell Livezey died just two weeks later, on December 9, 2007. 36 Numrich, Paul D. and Elfriede Wedam. Religion and Community in the New Urban America (New York: Oxford University Press), 2015. 37 Cimino, Richard, Nadia A. Mian, and Weishan Huang. Ecologies of Faith in New York City:The Evolution of Religious Institutions (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press), 2013. 38 Lorentzen, Lois Ann, Joaquin Jay Gonzalez III, Kevin M. Chun, and Hien Duc Do, eds. Religion at the Corner of Bliss and Nirvana, p. xvii. 39 Hanson, R. Scott. City of Gods: Religious Freedom, Immigration and Pluralism in Flushing, Queens (New York: Empire State Editions), 2016, p. 153. 40 As argued by Henri Lefebvre in The Production of Space (Oxford: Blackwell), 1991; originally published in French: La Production de L’Espace, 1974. 41 Interview with Edward Soja: www.jssj.org/article/la-justice-spatiale-et-le-droit-a-la-ville-un-entretienavec-edward-soja/. 42 Orsi, Robert A., ed. Gods of the City, p. 44. 43 Lorentzen, Lois Ann, Joaquin Jay Gonzalez III, Kevin M. Chun, and Hien Duc Do, eds. Religion at the Corner of Bliss and Nirvana. 44 Numrich, Paul D. and Elfriede Wedam. Religion and Community in the New Urban America. 45 Ebaugh, Helen Rose and Janet Saltzman Chafetz. Religion and the New Immigrants: Continuities and Adaptations in Immigrant Congregations. 46 McRoberts, Omar. Streets of Glory: Church and Community in a Black Urban Neighborhood. 47 Day, Katie. Faith on the Avenue: Religion on a City Street (New York: Oxford University Press), 2014. 48 Ammerman, Nancy Tatom. Congregation and Community. 49 Warner, R. Stephen and Judith G. Wittner. Gatherings in Diaspora: Religious Communities and the New Immigration. 50 Bender, Courtney. Heaven’s Kitchen: Living Religion at God’s Love We Deliver (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press), 2003, p. 22. 51 Bender, Courtney,Wendy Cadge, Peggy Levitt, and David Smilde, eds. Religion on the Edge: De-Centering and Re-Centering the Sociology of Religion (New York: Oxford University Press), 2012. 52 Orsi, Robert A. The Madonna of 115th Street: Faith and Community in Italian Harlem, 1880–1950.

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Studying religion and cities 53 Stausberg, Michael and Steven Engler, eds. The Routledge Handbook of Research Methods in the Study of Religion (Abingdon: Routledge), 2013. 54 Hanson, R. Scott. City of Gods: Religious Freedom, Immigration and Pluralism in Flushing, Queens. 55 Cnaan, Ram. The Economic Halo Effect of Historic Sacred Places (Philadelphia, PA: Partners for Sacred Places), 2016. https://sacredplaces.org/uploads/files/16879092466251061-economic-halo-effect-ofhistoric-sacred-places.pdf. 56 Connor, Phillip. Immigrant Faith: Patterns of Immigrant Religion in the United States, Canada, and Western Europe (New York: New York University Press), 2014, p. 48. 57 Geertz, Clifford. The Interpretation of Cultures. 58 Livezey, Lowell W., ed. Public Religion and Urban Transformation: Faith in the City, p. ix. 59 Hanson, R. Scott. City of Gods: Religious Freedom, Immigration and Pluralism in Flushing, Queens, p. 25. 60 https://ocean.sagepub.com/blog/tools-and-tech/adapting-your-qualitative-methods-course-foronline-learning?utm_source=Adestra&utm_medium=email&utm_content=0P0055B&utm_ campaign=not+tracked&utm_term=&em=43457658f97bbba4aa5486cf3a75608e246b5daff3f07682 ba212a0e9e21a41b. 61 Williams, Roman R. Seeing Religion:Toward a Visual Sociology of Religion (Abingdon: Routledge), 2015.

Bibliography Books and articles Ammerman, Nancy Tatom. Congregation and Community (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1997). Becci, Irene, Marian Burchardt, and Mariachiara Giorda.“Religious Super-Diversity and Spatial Strategies in Two European Cities.” Current Sociology 65, No. 1 (2017): 73–91. Bender, Courtney. Heaven’s Kitchen: Living Religion at God’s Love We Deliver (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 2003). Bender, Courtney,Wendy Cadge, Peggy Levitt, and David Smilde, eds. Religion on the Edge: De-Centering and Re-Centering the Sociology of Religion (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012). Bodnar, John. The Transplanted: A History of Immigrants in Urban America (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1987). Bohannon, Richard. Public Religion and the Urban Environment: Constructing a River Town (New York: Continuum Books, 2012). Cimino, Richard, Nadia A. Mian, and Weishan Huang. Ecologies of Faith in New York City:The Evolution of Religious Institutions (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2013). Connor, Phillip. Immigrant Faith: Patterns of Immigrant Religion in the United States, Canada, and Western Europe (New York: New York University Press, 2014). Day, Katie. Faith on the Avenue: Religion on a City Street (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014). Drake, St. Clair. Churches and Voluntary Associations in the Chicago Negro Community (Chicago, IL: Works Progress Administration District 3, 1940). DuBois, W.E.B. The Philadelphia Negro:A Social Study. 1st edn (New York: Schocken Books, 1899). Ebaugh, Helen Rose and Janet Saltzman Chafetz. Religion and the New Immigrants: Continuities and Adaptations in Immigrant Congregations (New York:Alta Mira Press, 2000). Eiesland, Nancy L. A Particular Place: Urban Restructuring and Religious Ecology in a Southern Exurb (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2000). Galvez, Alyshia. Guadalupe in New York: Devotion and the Struggle for Citizenship Rights among Mexican Immigrants (New York: New York University Press, 2010). Garbin, David and Strhan Anna. Religion and the Global City (London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2017). Gornik, Mark R. Word Made Global: Stories of African Christianity in New York City (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2011). Hanson, R. Scott. City of Gods: Religious Freedom, Immigration and Pluralism in Flushing, Queens (New York: Empire State Editions, 2016). Kincheloe, Samuel C. The American City and its Church (New York: Friendship Press, 1938). Lake, Robert W., ed. Readings in Urban Analysis: Perspectives on Urban Form and Structure (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1983). Livezey, Lowell W., ed. Public Religion and Urban Transformation: Faith in the City (New York: New York University Press, 2000).

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Katie Day Lorentzen, Lois Ann, Joaquin Jay Gonzalez III, Kevin M. Chun, and Hien Duc Do, eds. Religion at the Corner of Bliss and Nirvana (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2009). Mazumdar, Sanjoy and Shampa Mazumdar. “Planning, Design and Religion: America’s Changing Urban Landscape.” Journal of Architectural and Planning Research 30, No. 3 (2013): 221–243. McGreevy, John T. Parish Boundaries:The Catholic Encounter with Race in the Twentieth Century Urban North (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1997). McRoberts, Omar. Streets of Glory: Church and Community in a Black Urban Neighborhood (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 2003). Numrich, Paul D. and Elfriede Wedam. Religion and Community in the New Urban America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015). Orsi, Robert A., ed. Gods of the City (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1999). Orsi, Robert A. The Madonna of 115th Street: Faith and Community in Italian Harlem, 1880–1950 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1985). Paris, Peter J., John W. Cook, James Hudnut-Beumler, Lawrence H. Mamiya, Leonora Tubbs Tisdale, and Judith Weisenfeld. The History of the Riverside Church in the City of New York (New York: New York University Press, 2004). Sassen, Saskia. The Global City: New York, London,Tokyo (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991). Stausberg, Michael and Steven Engler, eds. The Routledge Handbook of Research Methods in the Study of Religion (Abingdon: Routledge, 2013). Warner, R. Stephen and Judith G. Wittner. Gatherings in Diaspora: Religious Communities and the New Immigration (Philadelphia, PA:Temple University Press, 1998). Williams, Roman R. Seeing Religion:Toward a Visual Sociology of Religion (Abingdon: Routledge, 2015).

Websites Cnaan, Ram. The Economic Halo Effect of Historic Sacred Places (Philadelphia, PA: Partners for Sacred Places, 2016): https://sacredplaces.org/uploads/files/16879092466251061-economic-halo-effect-of-historicsacred-places.pdf. Ho, LaiYee. “Adapting Your Qualitative Methods Course for Online Learning.” Sage Ocean, May 4, 2020. https://ocean.sagepub.com/blog/tools-and-tech/adapting-your-qualitative-methods-coursefor-online-learning?utm_source=Adestra&utm_medium=email&utm_content=0P0055B&utm_ campaign=not+tracked&utm_term=&em=43457658f97bbba4aa5486cf3a75608e246b5daff3f07682 ba212a0e9e21a41b.

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3 ETHNOGRAPHIC APPROACHES Contextual religious cosmopolitanisms in Mumbai István Keul

Introduction In a special issue of the journal Ethnography on South Asian cities,Ajay Gandhi and Lotte Hoek write about the feelings of bafflement and disorientation induced by cities from that part of the world in residents and visitors alike.The latter category includes researchers who—equally perplexed—are striving through “ethnographic questions and labor” to make some sense of places so expansive and diverse that they are “by nature impossible to fully understand.”1 This aptly described premise applies also to most of us who engage in studying one of the world’s largest and most culturally diverse cities, Mumbai (until 1995: Bombay). For the past five years, together with colleagues from various disciplines (the study of religions, anthropology, sociology, political sciences, and South Asian studies), I have been involved in a research project exploring contemporary aspects of religion in Mumbai.2 The subprojects in this endeavor shared an important, and to a certain extent also innovative, characteristic in that they did not investigate specific, clearly delineated religious groups or communities. Instead, they applied a spatial perspective, focusing on places and movements, aiming to avoid an unnecessary homogenization of different religions or groups as clear-cut entities.And, given the difficulties of a comprehensive approach to the socio-religious dynamics of major South Asian cities in general, and of Mumbai in particular, zooming in on selected, much more limited socio-geographic spaces seemed a practicable way of dealing with the city’s continuous transformation and increasing diversity.With its focus on the dynamics of composite spaces, on socio-religious constellations and interactions in various settings in Mumbai, the project contributes to ongoing broader discussions of cities as “sites of distributed multiplicity and relationality; of practices and trajectories embedding several identities, geographies, and histories.”3 In my own subproject I initially proposed to inquire into the role of religion in the mutual perception and everyday interactions of residents in selected Mumbai neighborhoods. Delineating the scope of my planned research in the larger project application, I emphasized that—given this city’s unique religious diversity—it was the ideal setting to study the ways in which religious factors contributed to the forging of neighborly structures and relations. More than five years and numerous incursions into the field later, this (over-) confidently asserted initial objective has morphed into a number of loosely connected research questions and thematic frameworks, another example of the transformations and shifts of focus that often occur as a 35

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direct consequence of fieldwork dynamics. Before elaborating on the stages of my research and the circumstances in the field that contributed to the diversification of the project’s objectives, I begin with a very brief (and inevitably incomplete) introduction to Mumbai’s socio-religious complexity from the sixteenth century onwards.

From “Bom ba(h)ía” to Bombay to Mumbai When in 1509 the Portuguese first raided villages on the grove-covered islets that formed deep natural harbors (in Portuguese: bom baía, “good bay”) and later became known as Bombay, they encountered fisherfolk, rice and coconut farmers, and small traders.4 Twenty-five years later, Bahadur Shah, the Muslim ruler of Gujarat, ceded the islands to the European invaders after they took control of Bassein fort (today’s Vasai). The Sephardi Jewish physician and herbalist Garcia da Orta, who from 1555 onwards lived for some time on one of the islands, mentions among the inhabitants of the area the Hindu Kolis (fishing and farming communities), Kunbis (agriculturists), Bhandaris (toddy tappers), Prabhus (accountants) and Banias (merchant communities), as well as Konkani Muslims (Naitias), Parsi Zoroastrians, and a few Portuguese families. In the second half of the sixteenth century, and with the support of the civil authorities, Jesuits and Franciscans built churches and converted parts of the population to Roman Catholicism. In 1661 Charles II of England married the Portuguese Infanta Catharina of Braganza, receiving the islands as dowry and leasing them seven years later to the East India Company. Gerald Aungier, the Governor of Bombay from 1669 until 1677, decisively shaped the early development of the city by attracting trading and artisan communities to the islands and promising them equality before the law regardless of ethno-linguistic or religious affiliation.This was the starting point of a long development that brought many Hindu and Muslim communities distinguished by geographical origin, language, and religious custom into the area, along with Jews, more Zoroastrians, and Jains. From an estimated 10,000 in 1661 the city’s population rose to 60,000 already by 1675.5 Over time, relations of trade and commerce in the area intensified and developed into networks that extended to kingdoms in inland India and the area around the Indian Ocean and Persian Gulf, contributing decisively to increased work opportunities and further influx of population.The number of inhabitants continued to rise, from 113,000 in 1780 to 162,000 in 1826 and 236,000 in 1836, and then spectacularly growing to 566,000 in 1849 and 816,000 in 1862.6 Following the establishment of the first cotton-spinning mill in 1854 the cotton industry grew rapidly, attracting thousands of migrants from the Deccan, Konkan, and the United Provinces.The spectrum of ethnic, regional, religious, and occupational diversity in the second half of nineteenth-century Bombay is impressive,7 including a small layer of British and other Europeans in the administration, military, and education professions; Parsi, Hindu, Jain, and Muslim (Bohra and Khoja) mercantile groups from Gujarat; Marathi-, Gujarati-, Hindi-, and Urdu-speaking laborers and mill workers, domestic servants, artisans, cultivators, and small traders such as grocers, peddlers, tailors, and barbers. Over the next decades, immigration continued to fuel the city’s growth. Of the almost one million inhabitants around the turn of the twentieth century, only little more than a quarter had been born in Bombay.8 People from every corner of India arrived in the city and blended into its ethno-linguistic and cultural fabric:Tamils, Goans, Konkanis, Malayalis from the South; Hindi- and Urdu-speaking farmers, as well as Sindhis, Nepalis, and Pathans from the North. Importantly, as seen earlier, in terms of social class, neither the financial elites nor the working class nor the social groups in between have been monolingual or monoreligious.Today, in addition to the various groups already mentioned, Mumbai is also home to a large number 36

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of Ambedkarite Buddhists. The Catholic population remains strong, and Mumbai is the main center of the Parsi Zoroastrians. Tensions between various ethnic or religious communities were not absent from Mumbai’s history. Protests against Christian missionary activities, Parsi–Muslim conflicts, a series of Hindu–Muslim conflicts and riots, especially from 1893 onwards and throughout the late colonial period,9 were among the most notable instances. Complex economic and political developments after Partition, the reorganization of the Indian states according to language (with the city becoming the capital of Maharashtra), and the ongoing massive migration contributed to the difficult economic situation in the late 1960s. Immigrants from South and North Indian rural areas remained economic refugees living in slums. Founded in 1966, and named after the seventeenth-century Maratha ruler Chhatrapati Shivaji Bhonsle, the regional political party Shiv Sena (“Shivaji’s Army”) aggressively propagated at first linguistic, and later also religious, monoculturalism, playing a major role in a historical process that has been described as an ethnicization of the city.10 The party’s initial agenda was to secure jobs and economic opportunities for the Marathi-speaking population, targeting the large numbers of Tamils who were working as clerks and in lower management positions in the industrial and commercial sectors. This Maharashtrianism (directed later also against Hindi-speaking cabdrivers, Sikh businessmen, or Malayali street vendors) was paired with intense social activities on the neighborhood level, the fight against the influence of socialist ideas in the labor unions, and a strong commitment to Hindutva, Hindu nationalism, aimed not only against Muslims but also Buddhist Dalits.This militant attempt at ethnicization and Hinduization played a major role in the massive riots and anti-Muslim violence of December 1992 and January 1993 after the destruction of the Babri mosque in Ayodhya. These events, and the retaliatory serial bombings that took place two months later in different parts of the city, had long-lasting reverberations. In 1995 the Shiv Sena became part of the ruling coalition (together with the Bharatiya Janata Party, BJP) in Maharashtra, and Bombay was renamed as Mumbai. The new official name was meant to be a direct reference to the local female deity Mumba, worshiped in the region’s fishing villages since the time before the advent of the Portuguese. In use already earlier in the Marathi and Gujarati languages, in addition to being the replacement of a name associated with colonial rule by an indigenous designation, the renaming of Bombay into Mumbai was perceived by many as an attempt to erase the memory of Bombay’s cultural diversity, carrying in its subtext the image of an ethnically–culturally cleansed city.

In the field in the city: stages of research As stated in the application submitted to the Research Council of Norway, my proposed project targeted selected multi-religious neighborhoods as “composite spaces of socio-religious dynamics.” Research on these culturally diverse spaces was to be undertaken under several related aspects: patterns of cross-religious communication, the perception of opportunities of multi-religious dwelling, cultural forms of everyday peace, and the role of religion in complex neighborhood relations.The planned study was described as “a comparative urban ethnography that provides insights into contemporary urban life in a multilayered, multi-religious society.” This kind of approach to religious phenomena in urban environments was quite new to me at the time. In the study of religions, anthropologically minded scholars often focus in their fieldwork on specific religious sites, movements, groups, or institutions.This was the case with my own previous ethnographic explorations too, some of which were situated (entirely or partly) in urban contexts. After contributing as a graduate student to a sociological ethnography of a Pentecostal group in a South German university town in the early 1990s, I embarked 37

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on an extensive, multi-methodic project on the worship of the Hindu deity Hanuman in the pilgrimage city of Varanasi. The resulting monograph has distinct ethnographic, historical, and sociological components.An ongoing, long-term study of two new religious movements in Asia included repeated stays in Tokyo and Mumbai, participant observation at religious events, documentation of religious sites, and numerous open-ended interviews with members at temples and in private homes. Another project, aimed at the Yogini cult and its contemporary transformations, was partly based on urban fieldwork in Delhi, Hamburg, and, once again,Varanasi. This focus on relatively clearly delineated objectives, a common denominator in previous research endeavors in urban contexts, was missing in my most recent work in Mumbai, with considerable consequences especially for the initial stages of research, in which I first needed to identify potential sites and conversation partners, as described below. Another observation concerns the problematization of the relationship between religion and city. It has been stated in the specialized literature11 that urban ethnography is distinguished from work in other settings by the recognition of the importance of urban life for the researchers’ interlocutors, including its changing nature and specific conditions such as (hyper-) diversity/ heterogeneity, large size, high density, anonymity, inequality, and interdependency.12 In the ethnographic study of religions in cities the relationship between urbanity and religion, and the urban situatedness of religious life-worlds (“topographies of faith”)13 play an important role and deserve special attention. While the fieldwork I had previously conducted in the aforementioned urban contexts does not always fit this description of urban ethnography, from the outset, the project on multi-religious dwelling in Mumbai paid much more attention to the urban contextualization of the phenomena to be studied. Before starting the “actual” work, the part I used to begin with in previous urban projects with clearly circumscribed fields and a potential pool of research participants (establishing rapport and trust, conducting preliminary interviews, refining research questions, etc.), I needed first to identify relevant neighborhoods where research was potentially meaningful and possible. Locating mixed-religious areas in Mumbai was not too difficult. I had been in the city a number of times before and was aware of potential field sites. Maps (virtual and printed) and guidebooks were helpful, too: the range and spatial constellations of places of worship represented on detailed area maps gave an indication for where to look further on the ground. Extensive (and intense) explorations of these areas followed, applying pedestrian methods of inquiry14 at first, then informal interactions, observations, conversations, and interviews of various lengths. Research in different parts of the city evolved gradually: I stayed in rented rooms in residential buildings, walked repeatedly through areas of potential interest, spent time in selected places (shops, parks, tea-stalls, religious sites) making contacts and aiming for more thorough explorations of mixed-religious dwelling. All this led to numerous interactions with residents of the respective areas, including many conversations in my interlocutors’ homes. In the course of the first weeks of fieldwork my focus of inquiry gradually changed. In the initial stages of my exchanges with residents in Mumbai neighborhoods15 I did not include direct questions about religion, except perhaps in cases when conversations took place at a religious site. I tried to avoid for as long as possible explicitly cueing my interlocutors into speaking about religion, hoping that at some point or other the topic would come up, and, if it did, I was interested in the contexts in which it would surface. I talked with residents in culturally (ethnically, linguistically, religiously, socially) diverse neighborhoods about all kinds of things: their biographies, family history, occupations, aspirations for themselves and their children, their perception of the neighborhood, and their interactions with other residents. Not all interlocutors touched on all these points, and with some of them I talked about other topics as well, topics that were later added to the list of themes to be included in interviews.And, whenever it 38

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came up in the flow of our conversations, and it often did, we discussed about the interlocutors’ religion and religiosity. Religious sites were again not something I prioritized during the initial phase of fieldwork in Mumbai, trying instead to cover a wider range of places in a street or neighborhood, looking at spatial constellations in which religion may be one of many variables in the interplay of factors in multilayered social spaces. At the same time, this does not mean that I avoided temples, shrines, dargahs, mosques, or churches. Contacts were also made sipping tea with devotees at temples on leisurely afternoons, or by being approached by curious churchgoers after evening masses. Moreover, for example, when a retired schoolteacher told me that he prayed every afternoon at the Irani mosque not far from his home as part of his daily routine, and offered to show me around there, I happily agreed.When another interlocutor mentioned that his father played an important role in establishing and maintaining a neighborhood shrine that had been recently demolished by the city administration and soon afterwards partially re-established, I went to document the site.When during a conversation somebody living in a high-rise described how drivers employed by the residents in the building had set up an image of a deity on the wall of the car park, with the building committee subsequently deciding on having it removed, I rushed to the scene.There were numerous other such and similar situations. Issues related to the spaces in private homes that were either dedicated or could be somehow connected to religion (house shrines, religious paraphernalia, art with religious connotations) were—whenever this was opportune—made into conversation topics.All in all, it can be said that spaces (and microspaces) with explicit connections to religion were very much relevant, but not the main focus my work. As a consequence of this approach, the scope of my inquiry became broader. My attention shifted from interreligious perception and communication in culturally multilayered urban areas, and the importance of religious factors in complex neighborly relations to the more wide-ranging potentialities of intercultural perception and encounters, and the field of everyday multiculturalism.16 New research questions were aimed at the ways in which individuals more generally perceive their culturally diverse surroundings, at their openness in relation to culturally different others, and the extent to which they engage with neighborhood residents from ethnic, cultural, religious and linguistic groups different from their own. These questions addressing cross-cultural communication, the perception of and reactions to cultural difference, and interactions of various kinds and intensity levels proved fruitful, and generated their own dynamics and ramifications in later stages of my research. One of the outcomes was an inquiry into the self-positioning of individuals in specific mixed-cultural urban settings of Mumbai; or, in other words, a closer look at selected individual variants of “Mumbai cosmopolitanism,” their relationality, and the ways in which they were embedded in ongoing situative processes and situated individual epistemologies.17

Cosmopolitanism in Mumbai At some point or other of their work in the city, those engaged in Mumbai-related cultural research are likely to encounter the term “cosmopolitanism” (or “cosmopolitan”) in their interactions with residents. In my case, it happened for the first time in the early stages of fieldwork, in December 2014. While exploring a neighborhood in the southern part of the city, I came across three middle-aged women on a bench chatting in the spacious courtyard of a school near a temple compound.We struck up a conversation about the site and the area around it, and they were quick to point out how diverse the neighborhood was when it came to language, ethnicity, and religion, with Gujarati, Maharashtrian, and South Indian residents, Hindus and Muslims, 39

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Christians, Jains, and Parsis. At some point, one of the women casually remarked (in English): “Yes, we are quite cosmopolitan here.” In the course of our conversation it gradually became clear what she implied by this, namely the fact that the neighborhood was culturally diverse, characterized by conviviality, open-mindedness, awareness of the other residents’ different cultures, languages, customs, cuisines, religions. In other words, it seemed to be an expression of a certain attitude with regard to diversity and difference, and also perhaps of possessing a set of skills for not only acknowledging but also engaging with this difference. As outlined earlier, the roots of this Mumbai brand of cosmopolitanism are strong, reaching back to the very beginning of the city’s modern history. Ingrained in the city’s culture, it was called “Mumbai’s self-governing cliché” by Arjun Appadurai, usually not associated with “selfcultivation, universalism, or with the ideals of globalism with which it is historically linked in Enlightenment Europe,” but with “cultural co-existence, the positive valuation of mixture and intercultural contact.”18 Despite the activities of the Shiv Sena, the anti-Muslim violence in 1993, or the train bombings by Muslim radicals in 2006, all of which contributed to mistrust between religious communities, Mumbai’s cosmopolitanism survives, both as a powerful memory and an aspiration. On the streets and in everyday life, you can observe the living presence of the city’s history as a place of interactions between different communities, languages and religions, even if this practice does not ascend to an Olympian philosophy of life.19 In the opening chapter of his Mumbai Fables, Gyan Prakash describes the emotional resonance and fascination the city has been eliciting for a long time, with its “promise of exciting newness and unlimited possibilities.” Unlike other major Indian cities such as Kolkata, Chennai, and Delhi, Mumbai “flaunts its image as a cosmopolitan metropolis by transcending its regional geography,” with its “dazzlingly diverse” population, its myriad languages, and many different faiths.20 Prakash and other authors strongly connected with Mumbai describe how the cities one loves and cares about are to a large part products of creative imaginative processes in which myths and narratives from distant or not-so-distant pasts become mosaic stones in the larger picture.The idea of Mumbai as the cosmopolitan Indian city, with a long history of ethnic and religious diversity, seems to be an important integral, lasting component of such a larger imaginary, in spite of often sobering diagnoses provided by contemporary writers, historians, or sociologists. Naresh Fernandes states that “[a]mong the truths Bombay holds to be self-evident is the fact that it is cosmopolitan,” and cites—for a first occurrence of the term in the city—an article from The Times of India from 1878, which describes Afghans visiting “the cosmopolitan bazaars of Bombay.”21 In later chapters, Fernandes reflects on the alienation, re-islandization, ghettoization, the monocultural tendencies, and the vegetarianization that have affected Mumbai lately. After highlighting selected aspects of the history of the erstwhile island city, he writes:“Bombay is experiencing […] the emergence of new islands, whose edges are sharply defined by religion and class […], enclaves of privilege and exclusion that undermine Bombay’s deep-seated idea of itself as a progressive, cosmopolitan metropolis.”22 And still, the idea persists on many levels. In a number of conversations I had over the past years with residents of various neighborhoods across South and Central Mumbai, the designation “cosmopolitan” came up quite frequently, in an adjectival, adverbial, or substantival form, in connection with the linguistic and religious diversity of these residents’ social environments, or when they talked about their personal, affirmative attitude with relation to this diversity. In other cases, even when not expressly uttered, this same idea of cultural openness was showing through in much of what my interlocutors said about their biographical pasts and about their 40

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day-to-day lives.To a lesser extent expressions of a cosmopolitan vision encompassing an entire city, these were articulations of a vernacular cosmopolitanism23 on the individual level. As the social anthropologist Pnina Werbner correctly states, “it cannot ever be said that a whole city, including all its residents, is cosmopolitan. It is within the city that certain activities, sites and milieus are more cosmopolitan than others.”24 As can be said for individuals, I would add, who all differ when it comes to the extent to which they are aware of or appreciate cultural and religious difference. The women on the bench all nodded approvingly when one of them pointed out how cosmopolitan their neighborhood was. Similar conversations in later stages of my fieldwork in selected multi-religious areas of the city led me to think that, on the one hand, this reiteration of Mumbai’s openness on an individual level is more than a mere reflex and expression of an imagination, memory, or utopian aspiration. However, what also became clear during many encounters was that these instances of cosmopolitanism needed to be properly qualified and situated in their own discursive contexts. The following voices of residents of Mumbai, each with their own “pragmatics of living with difference”25 in multicultural, mixed-religious settings, serve to illustrate my point.

Two case studies The protagonist of my first vignette is a life counselor and astrologer.26 This latter occupation, astrology, has been in this Maharashtrian family for generations, having been passed on from grandfather to grandson at least three times, leaving out the respective fathers. A series of extremely unhappy events in his life left my interlocutor, who was working as an accountant at that time, at an existential crossroads. He sought and found help, experienced improvement after seeing an astrologer, and decided then to try and make a living by helping others solve their life problems. Framed diplomas and course certificates on the wall of his small office documented the various stages of his training. He quickly built a reputation in his new career and was not only able to support his family of four, but also managed to pay for his children’s college education. In his early 60s at the time of our conversations, he was still enjoying his work and was grateful for what he had achieved for himself and his family. We were talking about everyday life in the South-Mumbai neighborhood where he had had his office for more than 30 years, an area with Muslim, Hindu, Jain, Christian, and Jewish residents, when he used the English term “cosmopolitan” in a Hindi sentence to describe the prevalent atmosphere in his neighborhood. I asked him to elaborate on what he meant.There were many different kinds of people living together in this neighborhood, he said, and they all supported each other on many different occasions. He went on to recount episodes of interreligious co-operation, some of which occurred in rather banal, others in more exceptional circumstances—for example, when Jewish residents protected one of the area’s prominent Hindu temples during the 1993 riots. He also described in vivid detail his safe passage through the adjacent Muslim neighborhood during those same events, accompanied by one of his Muslim acquaintances. He pointed out that the 1993 conflict was in his opinion fully orchestrated, and that normally there were no problems between the neighborhood’s Hindus and Muslims, whose everyday lives were characterized by mutual understanding, and close business and personal relations.Then he talked about his Christian tenant living next door, a social worker committed to helping HIV patients by organizing various projects aimed at securing a basic income to those affected. Another relevant moment in our conversation was when—after hearing about my previous research on Hanuman worship—he first recited a devotional text dedicated to Shani (a deity mythologically connected to Hanuman), and then enthusiastically played on his 41

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mobile phone a rather unusual-sounding YouTube video of the most popular prayer dedicated to the simian deity, performed by a group I later identified as the Ukrainian electronic music band Shanti People. My conversations with the astrologer took place at a later stage of my research, when the directions of my inquiry had already considerably broadened but were still evolving. Interactions with interlocutors now regularly included questions regarding their perception of culturally different surroundings, their openness in relation to religiously/culturally different others, and the extent of their engagement with people who belonged to other ethnic, cultural, religious, or linguistic groups. Gradually, I became aware of another point worth pursuing, this being also the reason for my inclusion of both of these cases in this essay: namely the moments of uncertainty in certain constellations of intercultural encounters, and the potential instability of cosmopolitan claims, an instability that in most cases played out in complex ways and eludes simple characterization. I will return to this point (and to our astrologer) in a moment. Before that, a brief look at the second selected case complicates things a little insofar as it attempts to include mixed-religious or interfaith marriages into the picture, an “embodied cosmopolitanism”27 not uncommon in contemporary Mumbai. In the 1980s a young Hindu woman married a Parsi Zoroastrian man with whom she had fallen in love during her university studies. Interestingly, and as a side note, the mothers initially opposed this union, while the fathers did not object at all.The couple pursued their professional careers very successfully and raised three children, two of whom were married at the time of my visits in the couple’s home.While I did not have the opportunity to meet the husband, his wife seemed to enjoy talking to me over a cup of tea even after a tiring day at work. At some point, our conversation touched on the religious socialization of the children, and my host described how they grew up following both Parsi and Hindu religious traditions: they had the Parsi thread ceremony performed, celebrated the Parsi festivals Navroz and Khordad Sal, but also the Hindu Divali. The family visited Parsi fire temples (without their mother, who as a non-Parsi is not allowed to enter), and (with both parents) Hindu temples such as Mahalakshmi and others.They were also regular visitors to the (religiously more eclectic) Sai Baba shrine nearby. The family went on longer trips to religious sites: to the Parsi pilgrimage center Udvada, the Minakshi temple in Madurai, Ramana Maharishi’s ashram in Thiruvannamalai, and to Shirdi, the place connected with the life of Sai Baba. She then told me about her children’s university education, which took place in India and abroad, and led to the unintended consequence of one of her daughters marrying a Catholic and moving to Europe. During the years of fieldwork in Mumbai, I met a fairly large number of interfaith couples that shared with me the sometimes unexpected and not always conflict-free outcomes of their decisions to spend their lives with someone belonging to a different religion. In this case, too, while expressing a certain pride in her and her husband’s fundamentally cosmopolitan attitude (she used the term “cosmopolitan” herself), my interlocutor went several times into a pensive mood when talking about the problems that came with this openness. Finding a spouse for her unmarried daughter was increasingly difficult, and her other daughter and son-in-law had a hard time deciding on which religious tradition their son should follow: three months old at the time of our conversation, the CatholicHindu/Zoroastrian parents had not yet decided whether to baptize him or not. Reflecting on this conversation (and on life situations described on other similar occasions), it again becomes clear to which discussion on cosmopolitanism this essay aims to contribute. It was not the universalizing, philosophical perspective, but a lived, socially situated, individual cosmopolitanism28 that became the focus of my attention during fieldwork in Mumbai, with examples of “actually existing cosmopolitanism,”29 additionally marked by the emic use of the

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term by interlocutors. Spending time in the homes of many conversation partners, I heard, saw, and tasted various forms of cross-cultural eclecticism. Starting with appearances, it was not difficult to perceive inklings of a consumerist cosmopolitanism in the kitchens and music rooms of well-to-do residents in various South-Mumbai neighborhoods, often paired with an aesthetic cosmopolitanism in the artwork displayed on the walls or in the combination of furniture in living rooms. In some cases, these instances of qualified cosmopolitanisms were part of an aesthetic-religious continuum. For example, one of the apartments in a South-Mumbai highrise complex had on an antique dresser in the living room Sri Aurobindo’s epic poem “Savitri” placed on an artful bookstand, in the immediate vicinity of a modern, minimalist Buddha image (“because everybody is fine with him, right?” remarked the mistress of the house), a Holy-Spirit representation in warm colors on stained glass (“bought in Venice”), a large handcrafted cross, two or three smaller Ganesha statues, and a framed photograph of the Mother (Aurobindo’s collaborator and successor, “brought back from Auroville”).The house shrine in the Parsi-Hindu couple’s apartment was less artistic, but it too reflected the family’s religious cosmopolitanism. It included Zarathustra, the Hindu deities Ganapati and Hanuman, Sai Baba, pictures of Ramana Maharshi and Nityananda, Sarasvati, and here, too, the ubiquitous Buddha. However, in this case as well, several long conversations with my host revealed both openness toward cultural difference and cross-cultural discomfort. Her excursus into the complexities of interreligious marital relationships was followed by statements showing communal and caste-related bias. My host pointed out that, when looking for a husband for her daughter, the only realistic target groups were liberal Parsis or liberal Hindus, while Muslims were no option at all. However, for Hindus—she said—a Parsi or halfParsi girl was not the first choice. She went on saying that, similarly, a Parsi immediately puts down the phone when he hears that the girl in question is half Hindu. Marrying someone from a lower caste was ruled out as well, based on previous experiences during her studies and at her workplace. Low-caste and Dalit students, if they finished their studies at all, had a hard time finding a job, and when they found employment, they encountered considerable difficulties: as lawyers, they did not have clients; and in medical professions, patients were hesitant to visit them for consultations, making it almost impossible to establish a patient base and so on. But many students with a low-caste background had character flaws, she said, in addition to lacking cultural education and a proper work ethic.They also had a rather strong fixation on money and material things in general. After having talked with the astrologer about the generally conflict-free and open atmosphere in his neighborhood, and after he illustrated with stories and anecdotes his cosmopolitan stance with regard to residents belonging to differing faiths, we spoke about his children’s education. One of them went to a school where the language of teaching was English, and my interlocutor said that learning English most certainly contributed to getting a good employment. At the same time, he was highly critical of the ever-growing importance of the English language in schools, emphasizing the need to increase the role of the regional language, Marathi, both in education and public life. He greeted the move by the Maharashtra government to make Marathi a compulsory subject in schools, and also the proposal to include a more comprehensive presentation of the Maratha ruler, Chhatrapati Shivaji, in history textbooks. He later remarked that, while the local political representative from the Congress Party was doing a good job, it was important and a very good thing that the city administration was run by the Shiv Sena, and he was hoping that the party would stay in power for a long time. Looking back at the Shiv Sena’s record in the past decades, he said he did not condone the violence committed, but that he agreed with most of the party’s program.

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Concluding remarks The study of multiculturalism and cosmopolitanism in different contexts has led scholars to view individuals’ self-positioning in mixed-cultural settings increasingly as relational and as part of ongoing situative processes. This critical approach to cosmopolitanism30 allows us to take individual cosmopolitan claims to a certain extent at face value, even when our conversation partners make statements that seem to relativize or contradict earlier affirmations of appreciation of those who are culturally different. Both the astrologer’s clear endorsement of monocultural politics in Mumbai, and my other interlocutor’s description of an exclusivist marriage economy and of what she felt was characterizing low-caste students’ work ethic were expressions of composite personal stances that are relational and processual, and can thus appear fragmentary and unstable. In our exploration of the possibility of cosmopolitanisms (and I am deliberately using the plural here) and their relationship with religious identities and affiliations, we need therefore to take into consideration that openness and shared understanding do not always exclude moments of uncertainty and negative generalization. The study of lived cultural difference in multicultural urban environments elicits many narratives about the various degrees of individual engagement with the culturally and religiously different other. From wholeheartedly sharing in and embracing the other’s culture, to cosmopolitanisms (contextual and otherwise), tolerance and “light-touch rubbing along,”31 to reserved skepticism and cross-religious discomfort and prejudice, and other stances in-between and beyond: much of this was palpable when speaking with residents of South-Mumbai neighborhoods over the past few years. The body of literature on cosmopolitanism is rich and complex.The concept’s visibility in social and political theory, as well as in a range of academic disciplines (including anthropology), has increased considerably over the recent decades.Attempts to systematize the various perspectives on cosmopolitanism,32 while numerous and useful, still leave open possibilities for refining existing approaches and room for alternative paths of enquiry.The two case studies briefly presented here add a further nuance to the discussion of lived, socially situated cosmopolitanism by drawing on the emic use of the terms “cosmopolitan/cosmopolitanism” in multicultural Mumbai neighborhoods. Many other interactions with residents of selected Mumbai neighborhoods also revealed attitudes with regard to cultural (ethno-linguistic, religious, social) difference that can be described as composite and fragmented, relational and processual. Designating some of these stances as eclectic or contextual cosmopolitanisms complements already existing “adjectival cosmopolitanisms”33 and will prove useful for the analysis of individuals’ self-positionings in mixed-cultural urban settings.While simultaneous articulations of cultural openness and cross-cultural discomfort may seem inconsistent at first, approaching them as parts of ongoing situative processes characterized by relationality and eclecticism allows us to integrate both individual cosmopolitan claims and uncertainties or anxieties in relation to cultural otherness.

Notes 1 Ajay Gandhi and Lotte Hoek, “Introduction to Crowds and conviviality: ethnographies of the South Asian City,” Ethnography 13/1 (2012): pp. 3–4. 2 The project “Dwelling and Crossing:The Socio-Cultural Dynamics of Religious Spaces in Mumbai” was initiated by Michael Stausberg (University of Bergen), and included eight subprojects, and was generously funded by the Research Council of Norway over a period of four years (2014–2018). 3 Smriti Srinivas, A Place for Utopia: Urban Designs from South Asia (Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 2015), p. 160. 4 For a history of Mumbai and the following brief overview, see Gyan Prakash, Mumbai Fables (New Delhi: HarperCollins India, 2010) and Naresh Fernandes, City Adrift:A Short Biography of Bombay (New Delhi: Aleph, 2013).

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Ethnographic approaches 5 Sharada Dwiwedi and Rahul Mehrotra, Bombay, the Cities Within (Bombay: Eminence Designs, 1995), p. 31. 6 Steam navigation, trade with China, the gradual establishment of a railway network, and the demand for cotton during the American Civil War were some of the decisive factors contributing to the city’s growth. Also, considerable capital generated through the opium trade formed the basis for a number of banking and industrial undertakings. See Amar Farooqui, Opium City:The Making of Early Victorian Bombay (Delhi:Three Essays Collective, 2006). “Bombay’s opium traders were a cosmopolitan group: they included Parsis, Konkani Muslims, Gujaratis, Goan Catholics and Baghdadi Jews.” In: Naresh Fernandes, City Adrift, p. 45. 7 Govind Narayan writes in 1863 about the many communities in the city: A local proverb talks about a land with “fifty-six languages and eighteen casts with different head-dresses.” However in Mumbai one is unable to fathom the number of languages which are current usage, nor the number of castes which reside there. […] Among the Hindus there are over a hundred castes—Marwadi, Multani, Bhatia,Vani, Joshi, Brahmin (once again, approximately 25 to 30 castes of Brahmins can be encountered in this city), Kasar, Sutar, Jingar, Lohar, Kayastha Prabhu, Dhuru Prabhu, Ugra Prabhu, Shimpi, Khatri, Kantari, Jhare, Paanchkalashe, Shetye, Lavane, Kumbhar, Lingayat, Gawli, Ghati, Mang, Mahar, Chambhar, Hajam, Teli, Mali, Koli, Dhobi, Kamathi,Telangi, Kannadi, Kongadi, Ghadshi, Purbhaiya, Bangali, Punjabi, et cetera. There is no end to differences and variations within these castes. Moving on to the other castes— Parsi, Mussalman, Moghul,Yahudi, Israeli, Bohra, Khoja, Memon, Arab, Kandhari; these are the castes identified by the eighteen different head-dresses.And then come the hatted races, including the English, Portuguese, French, Greek, Dutch,Turkish, German,Armenian and Chinese. (Govind Narayan’s Mumbai:An Urban Biography from 1863. Trans. Murali Ranganathan (Delhi:Anthem Press India, 2012), pp. 51–52) 8

9 10 11 12

13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Religious and linguistic diversity marked this teeming immigrant population. The Hindus were dominant, constituting 65 percent of the population in 1901, and Muslims made up 20 percent, followed by smaller percentages of Christians, Zoroastrians, Jains and Jews.The gross figures on religion, however, conceal the city’s true diversity, for religious communities were made up of different linguistic groups. (Gyan Prakash, Mumbai Fables, p. 43) Meena Menon, “Chronicle of Communal Riots in Bombay Presidency (1893–1945),” Economic & Political Weekly 45/47 (2010): pp. 63–72. See, for example, Arjun Appadurai, “Spectral Housing and Urban Cleansing: Notes on Millennial Mumbai,” Public Culture 12/3 (2000): pp. 627–51, here 630. See, for example, Rivke Jaffe and Anouk Koning, Introducing Urban Anthropology (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2015), p. 1. Two examples for definitions of the city that include some of these conditions: “[F]or sociological purposes a city may be defined as a relatively large, dense, and permanent settlement of socially heterogeneous individuals” (Louis Wirth,“Urbanism as a Way of Life,” American Journal of Sociology 44/1 (1938): pp. 1–24, here 8);“a space for the densification of the heterogeneous” (Helmuth Berking, Jochen Schwenk, and Silke Steets, “Filling the Void? —Religious Pluralism and the City,” in Religious Pluralism and the City: Inquiries into Postsecular Urbanism, eds, Helmuth Berking et al. (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2018), p. 7). Irene Becci, Marian Burchardt, and José Casanova, eds, Topographies of Faith: Religion in Urban Spaces (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2013). Srinivas, A Place for Utopia, pp. 29–30, pp. 160–1. For a discussion of “neighborhood” and “locality,” see Arjun Appadurai, Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization (Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota Press, 1996), pp. 178–99. Amanda Wise and Selvaraj Velayutham, eds, Everyday Multiculturalism (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009). See Nina Glick Schiller and Andrew Irving, eds,Whose Cosmopolitanism? Critical Perspectives, Relationalities and Discontents (New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2015). Arjun Appadurai,“Cosmopolitanism from Below,” The Johannesburg Salon:Volume Four (2011): p. 34. Prakash, Mumbai Fables, p. 348. Prakash, Mumbai Fables, p. 10. Fernandes, City Adrift, p. 56. Fernandes, City Adrift, p. 88.

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István Keul 23 See, for example, Homi Bhabha, “Unsatisfied Notes on Vernacular Cosmopolitanism,” in Text and Narration, eds, Peter C. Pfeiffer and Laura García Moreno (Columbia: Camden House, 1996), pp. 191– 207. 24 Pnina Werbner, “The Dialectics of Urban Cosmopolitanism: Between Tolerance and Intolerance in Cities of Strangers,” Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power 22 (2015): pp. 569–87, here 571. 25 Greg Noble, “Everyday Cosmopolitanism and the Labour of Intercultural Community,” in Everyday Multiculturalism, eds,A.Wise and S.Velayutham, pp. 46–64, here 46. 26 In order to protect the identities of both my interlocutors whose cases are included in this essay, I altered some of their socio-demographic characteristics. 27 Ann K. Mellor, “Embodied Cosmopolitanism and the British Romantic Woman Writer,” European Romantic Review 17/3 (2006): pp. 289–300, here 292. 28 The overarching question becoming then indeed the one asked by Glick Schiller and Irving in the title of their anthology: Whose Cosmopolitanism? 29 Bruce Robbins,“Actually Existing Cosmopolitanism,” in Cosmopolitics:Thinking and Feeling Beyond the Nation, eds, Bruce Robbins and Pheng Cheah (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1998), pp. 1–19. 30 For the following, see Amanda Wise and Selvaraj Velayutham, “Multiculturalism and Everyday Life,” in Everyday Multiculturalism, eds,Wise and Velayutham, pp. 1–17, and Nina Glick Schiller and Andrew Irving, “What’s in a Word? What’s in a Question?,” in Whose Cosmopolitanism?, eds, Glick Schiller and Irving, pp. 1–22. The term “critical cosmopolitanism” […] signals a rejection of universalizing narratives of cosmopolitanism and an affirmation of a stance toward human openness that is processual, socially situated, aspirational, self-problematizing and aware of the incomplete and contested nature of any cosmopolitan claim. (Glick Schiller and Irving,“Introduction,” p. 5) On critical cosmopolitanism, see also two of Gerard Delanty’s many contributions to the topic: “The Cosmopolitan Imagination: Critical Cosmopolitanism and Social Theory,” The British Journal of Sociology 57/1 (2006): pp. 25–47, and “The Idea of Critical Cosmopolitanism,” in Routledge Handbook of Cosmopolitanism Studies, ed., G. Delanty (Abingdon: Routledge, 2012), pp. 38–46. 31 Wise and Velayutham,“Multiculturalism,” p. 2. 32 See the volumes (listed in the bibliography) edited by Vertovec/Cohen, Werbner, Delanty, Rovisco/ Kim, Caraus/Paris, Glick Schiller/Irving, and others. 33 David Harvey, “What Do We Do with Cosmopolitanism?,” in Whose Cosmopolitanism?, eds, Glick Schiller and Irving, pp. 49–56, here 50.

Bibliography Arjun,Appadurai.“Cosmopolitanism from Below.” The Johannesburg Salon: Volume Four (2011): pp. 32–43. Arjun, Appadurai. Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization (Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota Press, 1996). Arjun, Appadurai. “Spectral Housing and Urban Cleansing; Notes on Millennial Mumbai.” Public Culture 12, No. 3 (2000): pp. 627–51. Becci, Irene, Marian Burchardt, and José Casanova, eds, Topographies of Faith: Religion in Urban Spaces (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2013). Berking, Helmuth, Jochen Schwenk, and Silke Steets, eds, Religious Pluralism and the City: Inquiries into Postsecular Urbanism (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2018). Bhabha, Homi.“Unsatisfied Notes on Vernacular Cosmopolitanism.” In Text and Narration, edited by Peter C. Pfeiffer and Laura García Moreno (Columbia, SC: Camden House, 1996), pp. 191–207. Caraus, Tamara and Elena Paris, eds, Re-Grounding Cosmopolitanism: Towards a Post-Foundational Cosmopolitanism (Abingdon: Routledge, 2017). David, Harvey. “What Do We Do with Cosmopolitanism?” In Whose Cosmopolitanism?, edited by Nina Glick Schiller and Andrew Irving (New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2015), pp. 49–56. Delanty, Gerard. “The Cosmopolitan Imagination: Critical Cosmopolitanism and Social Theory.” British Journal of Sociology 57, No. 1 (2006): pp. 25–47. Delanty, Gerard, ed., Routledge Handbook of Cosmopolitanism Studies (Abingdon: Routledge, 2012). Dwiwedi, Sharada and Rahul Mehrotra. Bombay:The Cities Within (Bombay: Eminence Designs, 1995).

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Ethnographic approaches Farooqui, Amar. Opium City:The Making of Early Victorian Bombay (Delhi:Three Essays Collective, 2006). Fernandes, Naresh. City Adrift:A Short Biography of Bombay (New Delhi:Aleph, 2013). Gandhi, Ajay and Lotte Hoek. “Introduction to Crowds and Conviviality: Ethnographies of the South Asian City.” Ethnography 13, No. 1 (2012): pp. 3–11. Glick Schiller, Nina and Andrew Irving, eds, Whose Cosmopolitanism? Critical Perspectives, Relationalities and Discontents (New York and Oxford: Berghahn, 2015). Govind Narayan’s Mumbai:An Urban Biography from 1863.Trans. Murali Ranganathan (Delhi:Anthem Press India, 2012). Jaffe, Rivke and Anouk Koning, eds, Introducing Urban Anthropology (Abingdon: Routledge, 2015). Mellor,Ann K.“Embodied Cosmopolitanism and the British Romantic Woman Writer.” European Romantic Review 17, No. 3 (2006): pp. 289–300. Menon, Meena.“Chronicle of Communal Riots in Bombay Presidency (1893–1945).” Economic & Political Weekly 45, No. 47 (2010): pp. 63–72. Noble, Greg. “Everyday Cosmopolitanism and the Labour of Intercultural Community.” In Everyday Multiculturalism, edited by Amanda Wise and Selvaraj Velayutham (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan 2009), pp. 46–64. Prakash, Gyan. Mumbai Fables (New Delhi: HarperCollins India, 2010). Robbins, Bruce. “Actually Existing Cosmopolitanism.” In Cosmopolitics: Thinking and Feeling Beyond the Nation, edited by Bruce Robbins and Pheng Cheah (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1998), pp. 1–19. Rovisco, Maria and Sebastian Kim, eds, Cosmopolitanism, Religion and the Public Sphere (London and New York: Routledge, 2014). Srinivas, Smriti. A Place for Utopia: Urban Designs from South Asia (Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 2015). Vertovec, Steven and Robin Cohen. Conceiving Cosmopolitanism: Theory, Context and Practice (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002). Werbner, Pnina.“The Dialectics of Urban Cosmopolitanism: Between Tolerance and Intolerance in Cities of Strangers.” Identities – Global Studies in Culture and Power 22 (2015): pp. 569–87. Wise, Amanda and Selvaraj Velayutham, eds, Everyday Multiculturalism (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009).

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4 EYES UPON THE STREET Visual social scientific approaches to religion and the city Roman R. Williams and Timothy Shortell

Introduction Years ago, urban theorist and activist Jane Jacobs characterized healthy city neighborhoods as having “eyes upon the street, eyes belonging to those we might call the natural proprietors of the street.”1 Buildings oriented toward the street direct neighborhood residents to pay attention to the experiences of other residents and strangers. With eyes upon the street people become familiar with the warp and woof of their neighborhood, and can detect when something is out of sorts. Eyes recognize the regular characters and activities of a street. Seeing is important to knowing and caring about the people in one’s community—and intervening for the wellbeing and safety of others when necessary. Jacobs observed that eyes upon the street act as a natural form of surveillance. People were already present in their neighborhoods, but adjustments were needed to encourage people to see.Toward this end, Jacobs played a role in developing a toolkit of ideas that would influence the way communities were designed—and how many of us now live.We share a similar ambition: to help researchers to see religion and spirituality in cities through visual social science. Our hope is that visual research tools become prevalent among those who study religion and spirituality in cities. We also recognize that, for those who practice religion and spirituality in ways that are not mainstream or widely accepted, they may find themselves in precarious, even dangerous, positions. By borrowing Jacobs’s phrase “eyes upon the street” we wish to preserve an interest in the wellbeing of others even as we employ her words as a bridge to visual social science. For the scholar interested in religion and spirituality in cities, there is plenty to see. Places of worship are perhaps the most obvious fixtures: churches, synagogues, mosques, temples, and gurdwaras, to name a few examples, mark the presence of religious communities and serve as their central location for worship, education, outreach, and service.2 These buildings come in a variety of shapes and sizes—and some religious entrepreneurs repurpose secular locations (e.g., storefronts, movie theaters, and warehouses) as houses of worship. In North America and Europe, a growing number of churches are sold and repurposed for myriad secular purposes (e.g., apartments, restaurants, and office space) due to declining participation in religion.3 Religious affiliations appear in the names of many hospitals, social service agencies, businesses, colleges, and schools, even though religion may no longer be integral to the mission of these organizations. 48

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City streets with names like “St. James Place” also remind residents of a more religious past and the juxtaposition of a kosher or halal restaurant on “Church Street” piques one’s interest about the evolution of neighborhoods. As one walks the street, the eye may be drawn to cars adorned with religious symbols (bumper stickers, emblems, bobbles on dashboards, photographs, symbols dangling from rearview mirrors, and even vanity plates).The purposes of these artifacts, which range from markers of identity to objects infused with the power to provide safety on the roads, are not always obvious.4 Graffiti may also contain multiple meanings as a boundary marker, form of protest, or artwork. Hateful words may be spray-painted on a house of worship or someone’s residence. While bumper stickers or spray-paint may be visible to everyone, other artifacts may be imperceptible to everyone except insiders. Wires erected by observant Jews called eruvs are in plain sight, but few people outside their community see them (see Figure 4.1).These wires extend the boundaries within which carrying objects or pushing strollers—activities considered work and therefore not allowed on the Sabbath—are permissible.Anyone walking in a major city is likely to have passed under cables serving as eruvs, but may not have noticed them.As the saying goes, “The eye only sees what the mind is prepared to comprehend.”5 Eyes upon the street need visual social science to properly understand and engage religion and spirituality in cities.We lament that very few scholars have realized the potential of visual methods for studying religion and cities. Our ambition is to encourage visual scholarship by offering an overview of visual social scientific techniques for studying religion and spirituality in the city. It strikes us that a balance between what has been done and what could be done is an appropriate posture. Toward these ends, we begin with a definition of visual sociology and draw largely from our discipline to survey work that uses visual methods to collect, analyze, and present data about the city. Resources for addressing ethics in visual research are presented.And a case study in visual semiotics draws from Timothy Shortell’s work on the visibility of ethnic and religious minorities in American and European global cities.

Figure 4.1 The bicyclists on this bridge just passed under an eruv, which is visible as a diagonal wire in the top left quadrant of this photograph.Antwerp, Belgium, 2015. Source: © Roman R.Williams

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Visual social science What is visual sociology? The democratization and proliferation of digital photography opens up an opportunity to approach social scientific research using the tools of visual sociology.These days it seems possible that more people take a smartphone to worship on a weekly basis than any sacred text or object. Yet, few sociologists take advantage of contemporary cultural practices of snapping and sharing photos. Many social scientists are surprised to learn that Emile Durkheim, a founding figure in sociology, relied on the photographs of anthropologists to inform his thinking as he formulated his classic volume Elementary Forms of Religious Life.Without these images, he may not have been the one to propose a sociology of religion that appreciates ritual, materiality, community, social interaction, and experience.6 If peering through other peoples’ lenses was helpful at a time when cameras were novel, it is certainly true at a time in which cameras proliferate in places such as the United States, where 95% of adults carry camera-equipped mobile phones.7 Today, most sociologists pursue research agendas driven by surveys and statistical analyses.Their work relies on numbers and offers a way to understand a population through a well-conceived sample of individuals. The genius of quantitative social science is its breadth, and, to its credit, numbers are represented in charts and graphs to help readers see trends and relationships in the data. Until recently, these visualizations of data, however, typically lacked imagination or beauty.8 Others do sociology through qualitative techniques centered on observation and interviewing strategies emphasizing words as data in the form of fieldnotes and interview transcripts. Where quantitative research offers a broad view of a population, qualitative studies provide depth through rich, detailed, and nuanced description of the lived experiences of a small number of participants. Studies that combine these approaches are highly regarded as offering the best of both worlds. Sometimes traditional numbers- and words-based sociology will include photographs, but typically published research does so in ways that render the image as little more than an illustration. In other words, the image is aesthetically appealing, but not integral to the method, description, or argument. Visual sociology is built on the premise that “the world that is seen, photographed, drawn, or otherwise represented visually is different than the world that is represented through words and numbers.”9 To suggest, however, that the unique social products and processes related to the visual are the sole objects of inquiry in visual research would not capture the depth of the field. Luc Pauwels emphasizes that “visual social science is a study not just ‘about’ the visual, but also ‘through’ visuals and visualizations of a varied nature.”10 As such, visual sociology comprises a set of image-based techniques for collecting, analyzing, and presenting data across the widest possible spectrum of visual materials.

Collecting data visually Central to visual research is a methodological awareness which puts a project into clear conversation with specific data-collection techniques. The literature contains quite a few works at the intersection of religion and the city that include visual information such as photographs, but have little in common with visual social science.These authors may include photographs in their writing, but do not refer to them in the text. In many of these cases, the same scholarly narrative could unfold without photographs.While readers may benefit from a more visually stimulating experience of a book or article, the scholars writing these pieces do not take full advantage of images as a form of data that can be analyzed and made integral to their argument or explanation. 50

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There are, however, tried-and-true visual techniques that may be fruitfully employed in studies focusing on religion in cities.We survey these below and highlight examples from visual sociology that employ photography. The chapter is delimited in this way because we are persuaded that photographic techniques represent the best point of entry to visual research for the most people. While our focus is on religion and spirituality in cities, a few useful techniques are yet to be applied to this field of study, so we turn to examples from the visual sociology of religion more broadly. It is also worth noting that we do not intend to be comprehensive in our survey of visual methods or the literature, as space simply does not allow us to do so. Consulting introductory texts11 will offer a more complete overview of visual research methods—Roman R.Williams’ edited volume12 includes several chapters relevant to religion in the city. One way to organize these approaches to visual research is to consider the question of who will make the image. Generally speaking, three answers emerge. First, some visual data are found in an archive, online, thrift store, social media, or a magazine—virtually anywhere pre-existing visual information or artifacts may be encountered. The researcher may not personally know (or even be able to know) who produced the visual material, but it nonetheless may be suitable for the purposes of the research being undertaken. Brian Miller uses Google Street View and congregational websites to explore the fate of church buildings in the Chicago area over time.13 In this case, Google Street View may be regarded as a kind of archive, one that is underutilized for research on religion.While the researcher may not have done the work of creating the visual data for their study, considerable effort is nonetheless required to compile a collection of images appropriate to one’s research agenda. Thankfully, some of this work has been done by others in the form of online databases and archives. Jon Miller’s work on the International Mission Photography Archive is one example. While many of the photos in the archive depict rural locations, the search term “city” yields 1,425 results.14 Another interesting database is Yale’s Photogrammar,15 which facilitates searching and geo-locating the 170,000 photographs taken during the Great Depression in the United States by Farm Security Administration photographers. Timothy Shortell and Jerome Krase make available the more than 10,000 photographs collected in over 40 global cities they use to explore how urban neighborhoods are changing as a result of globalization, many of which are valuable in the study of religion in cities.16 Second, a researcher may produce their own visual data for their project. Most frequently, these representations come in the form of photographs or videos made by the researcher or a professional hired for the purposes of the study. In this case, the researcher is involved in the image-making process. She has a better sense of how the visuals were composed and is aware of decisions about medium or equipment that may have shaped a drawing, photograph, video, or other visual artifact. Researcher-produced photography has been used to great effect to study religion in urban contexts. Examples of this work include José Vergara’s exploration of religion among the urban poor,17 Philip Richter’s photo essay about Sundays in three European towns,18 Mette Andersson’s work on religion in inner city Oslo,19 various projects undertaken by Jerome Krase and Timothy Shortell tracing out religion and globalization,20 a consideration of storefront churches by Martin Krieger,21 Liz Hingley’s account of urban faith communities along Soho Road in Birmingham, England,22 a tour of the American religious landscape offered by Christopher Schietle and Roger Finke,23 Katie Day’s description of religious diversity along Philadelphia’s Germantown Avenue in collaboration with photographer Edd Conboy,24 and sacred dimensions of everyday life in Shanghai through the work of Benoît Vermander, Liz Hingley, and Liang Zhang.25

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The cameras integrated into the mobile phones carried by most researchers constitute another tool for recording information and experiences in the field. Frequently the catch-all term “visual ethnography” is used to describe researcher-produced photographs. In its most basic form, visual ethnography usually involves the researcher incorporating a camera in their ethnographic fieldwork.26 Photographs are combined with fieldnotes and interview transcripts in the analysis and presentation of data. With recent improvements in smartphone cameras, many researchers already possess the capacity to compose images at a high enough resolution (12 megapixels) for publication. Sometimes a researcher will use their own photographs as prompts in interviews in a technique called photo elicitation, the most commonly used visual technique in the sociology of religion.27 When used in this way, images can “invoke comments, memory, and discussion”28 and lead researchers down pathways of discovery that they may not have otherwise anticipated.29 Photo elicitation also changes the interview experience.Whereas a traditional interview is conducted face-to-face with the “expert” researcher asking a set of more-or-less predetermined questions to an informant, in an elicitation interview, the interviewee is treated as an expert in their own life and invited to explain it to the researcher, who is positioned as a learner, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with the interviewee, peering at a photograph. On other occasions researchers use their own photographs in elicitation interviews, which allows them to more readily make comparisons across their sample. Projects employing researcher-produced images have explored religious meanings and symbols in Norway,30 the religious socialization of children in Coventry, England,31 and religion and migration in Western Europe.32 In other cases, photo elicitation projects invite participants to make the photographs. Participant-produced images have been used to explore lived religion in Boston and Atlanta,33 evangelical international students in the United States,34 religion among Polish immigrants in contemporary Britain,35 and a church closure in The Netherlands,36 to name a few examples. Using participant-produced photographs in elicitation interviewing exemplifies the final category of visual data sources. The third strategy for collecting visual materials for research is to ask research participants to curate or create drawings, photographs, or videos of objects, events, people, places, practices, experiences, and ideas relevant to one’s research project. The participatory nature of this approach, which is sometimes referred to as “auto-driven,”37 recommends itself as a way to explore social life beyond the researcher’s taken-for-granted boundaries of understanding. As sociologist Howard Becker38 suggested, photographs may be regarded as answers to questions a researcher never may have known to ask. Auto-driven elicitation interviews give considerable agency to the participant to decide what is relevant or important.39 In addition to photo elicitation, photovoice is a technique that utilizes participant-produced photographs. This participatory action research strategy leverages participants’ photographs to explore shared needs, concerns, and experiences through carefully facilitated small- and largegroup discussions.40 A photovoice project culminates in an exhibition in which participants use their photographs to present their shared needs and concerns to their community as a way to pursue change. Photovoice is used across a range of topics, including community health, adapting to illness, culture, education and youth, and communities.41 Only a handful of projects focus on religion, much less urban religion and the city.42 Participatory methods can take other forms. Maggie O’Neill and Phil Hubbard used a participatory action method called ethno-mimesis, a “methodological and performative praxis,” to investigate the construction of a sense of belonging by refugees and undocumented migrants to the English East Midlands.43 Because these migrants and asylum-seekers were racial and, often, religious minorities, their relationship to place differed from the majority. A walking practice 52

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grounded the ethnography in the details of place, which the art practice was able to reflect on, creating a multi-vocal understanding of belonging.The authors noted that it also allowed them to see places differently, including places of faith, as the migrants engaged in the practices of making home away from home. Brinton Lykes also used a participatory methodology to explore belonging. She combined photography and storytelling to explore how rural indigenous women in post-war Guatemala experienced violence and loss. The Maya women in the study were both ethnic and religious minorities, and the photographs they took and the stories they told included “people taking up other religions”44 such as Roman Catholicism, representing the ethnic majority, replaced indigenous religious practices. One of the most striking photographs and narratives depicts an altar destroyed by soldiers as part of the war on indigenous communities. In place of the destroyed altar, stone crosses stand, and the locals understand la violencia as an effort to eliminate their traditional religious practices.

Analyzing and presenting visual data Collecting visual data, of course, is the first step in the process of discovery. Approaches to analysis are numerous and one encounters nuances across disciplines. Many researchers employ coding techniques similar to what is used to code interview transcripts, fieldnotes, and other verbal materials. Like coding textual data, coding visual materials is supported by most qualitative data analysis software applications. Some researchers advocate approaches involving several passes at the data from different perspectives.45 Content analysis invites the researcher to count and quantify visible and less visible aspects of visual data. Semiotics, as seen below in Timothy Shortell’s case study, requires a deep reading of visual materials to uncover the underlying social structures and systems of meaning. Frequently, a content analysis will go hand in hand with semiotics. In photovoice, analysis is facilitated in part though critical discussions among participants.A suitable strategy for analysis will also depend on the medium, as evidenced by an entire volume devoted to video analysis.46 When it comes to analysis, knowing the range of possibilities is important.Therefore, we recommend cultural geographer Gillian Rose’s47 helpful introduction to interpreting visual data and the visual analysis handbook edited by Theo van Leeuwen and Carey Jewitt.48 Sarah Pink underscores the fact that “meanings of photographs are contingent and subjective; they depend on who is looking, and when they are looking.”49 Helping one’s audience(s) appreciate, evaluate, and appropriate the information revealed through visual analysis involves practices of representation. Luc Pauwels invites researchers to consider the mode, context, purpose, and audience of visual information.50 His work reminds us that making arguments visually involves much more than inserting a photograph or two into a manuscript.Visual materials must be integral to the overall scholarly narrative presented.When it comes to developing one’s visual acuity in this regard, there is no substitute for reading the work of visual social scientists.

Visual research ethics Ethical practices are a high priority in social scientific research. Central to ethical research are the so-called golden rules: do no harm, informed consent, and voluntary participation.These guidelines intend to protect research participants, especially those from vulnerable populations.Visual approaches to research raise additional questions about a project. How does one protect the identities of people depicted in an image? Under what circumstances should one anonymize locations in pursuit of confidentiality for participants? Who holds the copyright 53

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of participant-produced images? There is no shortage of material on ethics, just about every volume on visual research methods contains a chapter;51 professional associations in visual anthropology and sociology provide guidelines,52 and dedicate journal issues53 and annual forums to the topic of ethical research;54 and a book-length treatment is also available.55 Some researchers advocate for a visual approach to informed consent as a way engage research subjects and help them better comprehend what they are agreeing to as research participants.56 While the ethical concerns may be universal in the social scientific community, applying the guidelines is highly contextual. Following Andrew Clark,57 we advise researchers to consider ethical issues from within their unique political, moral, and cultural contexts in relation to their research respondents and technique(s).

Case study: Spatial semiotics58 Spatial semiotics is an attempt to integrate quotidian mobility practices (walking, riding the bus, etc.), interactionism, and image-making (photography or video) in order to analyze the range of interpretations of what can be seen in public spaces and what it reveals about the patterns of social life. Shortell and colleagues have employed this method to investigate the visibility of ethnic and religious minorities in US and European global cities.59 Following Georg Simmel, this approach recognizes the centrality to urban life of the visual channel;60 we relate to urban places, in a fundamental way, by seeing them as we move around in them.61 The things that people do in public spaces, by performing their culture in ways big and small, intentional and unintentional, generate signs of identity. These signs are sometimes ephemeral and sometimes more enduring.These signs are embedded in the social landscape and the physical streetscape. Other urban dwellers, sometimes present during the production of signs of identity and sometimes not, make sense out of these signs through their own experiences in urban places and through media representations of groups and group interactions. To investigate everyday semiotic processes, the researcher produces image data using photography or video. Given the ubiquity of image-making in the contemporary world, it is not necessary to use stealth to create images in this method, but unobtrusive practices are best, since they are more likely to preserve the everyday quality of the relevant social interactions.An attempt is made to record what can be seen from various points of view. Image-making is often combined with observation and fieldnotes to create data for analysis. Although it is possible to use archival sources of public space, such as Google’s Street View, or historical archives, such as Urban Archive,62 in order to get a sense of the connotative as well as denotative meanings of signs-in-context, the researcher should employ the same kind of mobilities that urban dwellers use in their day-to-day routines.The goal is not to determine the meaning of a particular identity sign, even if it were possible to do so, but rather to understand how signs of identity might be understood from different social locations. In contrast to visual ethnography, where a researcher attempts to tell the story of a particular community, or within a particular community, spatial semiotics is a method for investigating the qualities and structure of meaningfulness of urban places. Ethnography generates thick description of the particular meanings that some members of a community or group attach to objects or practices.63 But no one, not even insiders in community or group, sees everything. A structural approach such as spatial semiotics allows the researcher to investigate how people in different locations might see religion and spirituality in urban places by recording information about the spatial arrangements of significant signs. Because people see signs differently as a result of differences in experience and attachments to place, spatial semiotics can allow the researcher to transcend the limitations of one group’s meaning-making practices. 54

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There are a number of different approaches one can take to semiosis. Krase and Shortell, for example, use an interactionist interpretation of everyday social processes connected to a structural semiotics to make sense of the variety of identity signs in urban communities. In this work, we draw, first, on Erving Goffman’s distinction between intentional and unintentional identity performances. He contrasted two kinds of sign activity, “the expression that he gives, and the expression he gives off.”64 Further, Goffman noted that one type of social stigma—“tribal stigma of race, nation, and religion” 65—is based on stereotypes of collective identities. The signs that religious minorities give off through everyday identity performances such as clothing are often taken as signs of social stigma by the majority (see Figure 4.2). We also use Roman Jakobson’s66 structural approach to contrast different communicative practices regarding signs of identity. This is particularly useful for studying spaces where religious minorities are present. Jakobson described six functions of signs, which emphasize different communicative purposes: referential, expressive, conative, phatic, poetic, and reflexive. Any particular sign of identity might activate several functions, but the categorization is useful to separate the potential communicative messages analytically. When a message calls attention to the context of communication, the referential function is activated. In urban spaces, religious buildings—whether or not the building was designed as a house of worship—serve as perhaps the most obvious referential function for religious identity. The expressive function emphasizes the motives of the producer of identity signs. These signs are an important aspect of agency in urban spaces. Icons are an important instance of expressive signs of religious identity, and one can find many examples of urban dwellers using religious iconography to personalize their space, fixed or mobile. In some settings, forms of religious dress are expressive; for Muslim women in the US and France, for example, this is often the case.67

Figure 4.2 Religious dress “gives” and “gives off ” a range of meanings. Brooklyn, New York, 2010. Source: © Timothy Shortell

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The operation of the conative function is to influence others. When our understanding of an identity sign focuses on the cognitive or affective state of the audience of a sign, we are using the conative function. In general, the audience would consist of the urban dwellers who share the particular space with the signs, whether or not they are present during the production of the sign.An important spatial quality of the conative function is concentration.When, in our everyday mobility, we see numerous and proximate signs of a religious group, we attribute the space containing these signs as “theirs” (see Figure 4.3).This often happens where religious minorities are also ethnic or linguistic minorities. The phatic function captures signs that are oriented to contact. In urban space, many phatic signs facilitate social interaction among members of an in-group; they signal shared culture and confer insider status even among endogenous strangers. A variety of religious practices, including aspects of appearance such as modest attire, serve the phatic function.68 In Jakobson’s view, poetic language draws attention to itself as a form of expression, rather than primarily as the medium of a message.Visual signs in public space may emphasize the aesthetic dimension of identity, or they may simply call our attention to the identity as the message. Street art is one common type of poetic sign of identity. The reflexive function refers to the code of communication. In urban streetscapes, for example, signage in foreign languages (from the perspective of the majority), particularly in non-Latin alphabets, embodies the reflexive function.When we see such signage, we know that the messages are not intended for us, whatever those messages may say. In some instances, religious practices in public spaces also function reflexively, calling our attention to the ritual dimension of a faith group that is not our own.We might recognize an act as prayer even if we do not understand the specifics. This method can be used to examine visibility conflicts, which often involve ethnic and religious minorities. Being visible in public space is form of civic claims-making; to be seen is a

Figure 4.3 Conative function of foreign language signage. Brooklyn, New York, 2010. Source: © Timothy Shortell

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claim to belong.Visibility conflicts are rarely about who can be seen but instead who is noticed. In other words, when powerful groups become aware of less powerful groups using public space, they sometimes react as if their own claims to the space are being contested.The discourse on belonging from the nativist perspective commonly characterizes this visibility as “invasion.” When the privileges of status seem threatened, everyday forms of sharing social space become intolerable for those who reject diversity as the basis for urban community.Visibility conflicts are not about the fact of sharing space and resources as much as the terms: egalitarian sharing is the problem in the minds of some members of powerful groups. Shortell has used this method to investigate the visibility of religious minorities in Brooklyn and Paris. A few examples will illustrate how spatial semiotics could be used to understand group dynamics. Identity practices generate signs that are both material and symbolic, and are embedded in both the built environment and the social landscape. Food is central to the performance of culture. Many religious groups have rules regarding diet and food for sale, which is a significant identifier of the presence of particular groups. Having one’s food available is a key factor in making an urban place feel like home. This is a significant phatic sign for religious minorities. In this image composed in Brooklyn, the Taj Mahal is a “Pakistani, Bangladeshi & American grocery” (see Figure 4.4).The awning uses green and white extensively, and features the flags of Pakistan, Bangladesh, and the US.The writing is in English, except for the halal symbol on the sign below the awning.There is Arabic script on a sign in the window along with more flag icons. Another interesting example of food communicating religious identity is shown in this photograph from Paris. Boucherie Henrino, at Boulevard de Belleville and Rue Lemon, is one of the last remaining Jewish businesses in Belleville (see Figure 4.5). During Ramadan in 2009, the bakery set up a table of “street food” typical of the establishments in the neighborhood for the end of the fast

Figure 4.4 Halal meat as phatic function. Brooklyn, New York, 2010. Source: © Timothy Shortell

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Figure 4.5 Signage on Jewish bakery as expressive function. Paris, France, 2007. Source: © Timothy Shortell

when the streets were suddenly busy.The original Tunisian Jewish community was mostly gone by then and the customers were largely Muslim. For the Muslim majority in the neighborhood, the name and icons on the façade are expressive, and established the basis for interactions.Walking around the streets of the neighborhood, the vast majority of identity signs in the built streetscape reflect the new majority, and activate both conative and phatic functions. Only a few identity signs from earlier groups remain in the physical landscape, and even fewer in the social landscape. There is a public market in Paris located on Boulevard de la Chapelle between Boulevard Barbès and Rue Marx Dormoy. One can occasionally see informal (unregulated) commerce occurring there.Young North African men sell American cigarettes or West African men sell leather goods spread out for display on blankets in the area.The public market here consists mostly of vendors selling fruits and vegetables. It appeared that all of the vendors at this market, on the occasions I observed it, were North African, and most of the shoppers were also, but there were always a few West African and majority French shoppers too. I recorded in my fieldnotes that most of the North African women I observed shopping there were wearing hijab.The vendors called out in French, but often interacted with customers in Arabic.This is an immigrant space, where the French shoppers were visibly the exception. Most of the shoppers on any particular day might not have thought about it as such, but this market was also a place of religious inter-group interaction. Religious dress functions as both phatic for the in-group and expressive for out-groups, and the subject of a longstanding public controversy in France regarding national, ethnic, and religious identity. Religious inter-group interaction may be observed on public transportation in both Brooklyn and Paris.The Belleville Metro stop portrays a scene of diversity (see Figure 4.6). People who appear to be majority French,Asian, and African are visible in the photograph.The urban dwellers in this scene are interpreting identity information from the others, through their appearance and their behavior.The people who are waiting—including two Africans facing away near the 58

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Figure 4.6 Belleville Metro stop. Paris, France, 2007. Source: © Timothy Shortell

corner of the building, and in a separate group, three majority French leaning against the wall, one of whom appears to be checking his phone—are able to read the identity of people entering and exiting the Metro, even if they are not planning to ride the Metro themselves. If they are residents of the neighborhood, they would be even more familiar with the flows of people.You would not have to spend much time in this scene to recognize that this is a Chinese neighborhood and that many of the Metro passengers are Asian at this stop. In this scene, urban dwellers are going about their business. Some are commuting; some are waiting; some are working. In these everyday processes, the participants are probably not thinking about religious group identity (or, indeed, racial or ethnic identity), but their presence means that people are interacting—according to the norms of public space—across group boundaries. In contemporary Paris, one of those boundaries is religious identity. I rarely observed group conflict in or around public transportation in Paris or in Brooklyn, where similar scenes are common. Elijah Anderson called this kind of space a “cosmopolitan canopy.”69 It can be a context for religious inter-group interaction. Some urban dwellers avoid these spaces because the density of the signs of out-group identities operates as the conative function. Some urban dwellers seek out such spaces for the same reason. Spatial semiotics can help us understand how this kind of inter-group interaction takes place, because we can observe intentionally the signs of group identities as they are produced in everyday routines and rhythms. Unlike the participants, for the most part, a researcher can take note of the terms of these interactions and produce images to examine them.This is a common way that urban dwellers see religion, even if they are not always mindful of this fact.These kinds of interactions in urban public space are far more common than the hostile interactions that are occasionally depicted in mass media. Even when no conflict is observed, however, these scenes might be contributing to visibility conflicts because the dynamics of identity interpretation may 59

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be changing the connections that urban dwellers have to particular places as a result of the spatial distribution of identity signs.

Conclusion One of the foundational ideas in visual sociology is that just about every aspect of contemporary life might be studied with visual methods and visual data.We can use visual data to understand social process and to communicate them. As we have described here, this is certainly true of religion and spirituality in cities.The variety of methods developed by researchers in sociology and anthropology are well suited to a wide range of questions across numerous settings. Some of the visual methods reviewed here generate data familiar to qualitative researchers. Visual methods can facilitate thick description. In this sense, images really do speak thousands of words by provoking dialogue between participants, and between participants and researchers. Images also help communicate the important meanings regarding religious life in cities, in part because images combine our understanding of ideas and affective responses to them.This is particularly apt for modern societies defined by the ubiquity of image-making and visual communication. Other methods, especially those in which researchers are producing images or using archives of existing images, trade some depth for breadth. These techniques allow for systems of categorization that are often difficult to achieve with thick description.These methods are not as nomothetic as survey research generally is, but often permit expansion along a geographic or historical dimension. Rephotography of places of worship, for example, drawing on archives can extend an analysis beyond the lifespan of ethnographic participants.70 The use of visual methods and visual data to study religion and spirituality is becoming more common, even though it is far from dominant.As researchers investigating questions of interest in sociology of religion encounter studies using visual data and visual methods, these practices gain momentum and are more likely to be taught, thus enabling new and future researchers to generate more knowledge with these methods. Similarly, as these methods become more familiar, more research communications channels are created or adapted to use images in dissemination.As these methods turn researchers’ eyes toward the street, the results of research will lead to greater understanding, solidarity, safety, and civility.

Notes 1 Jane Jacobs, The Death and Life of Great American Cities (New York: Random House, 1992), p. 35. 2 Robert E. Brenneman and Brian Miller, Building Faith: A Sociology of Religious Architecture (New York: Oxford University Press, 2020). 3 Taylor Hartson,“Converted Structures: Understanding Material Expressions of the Sacred and Secular.” Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion, St. Louis, MO, October 2019. 4 Anders Vassenden and Mette Andersson, “Religious Symbols on Rearview Mirrors: Displays of Faith or Hopes for Safe Travel?” in Seeing Religion: Toward a Visual Sociology of Religion, ed., R.R. Williams (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2015), pp. 85–102. 5 This clever turn of phrase is attributed to the French philosopher Henri Bergson. 6 See Jens Kreinath, “Discursive Formation, Ethnographic Encounter, Photographic Evidence: The Centenary of Durkheim’s Basic Forms of Religious Life and the Anthropological Study of Australian Aboriginal Religion in His Time.” Visual Anthropology 25(2012): pp. 367–420.

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Eyes upon the street 7 Pew Research Center,“Mobile Fact Sheet,” accessed June 25, 2018, www.pewinternet.org/ fact-sheet/ mobile/. 8 Edward Tufte, Beautiful Evidence (Cheshire, CT: Graphics Press, 2006). 9 Douglas Harper, Visual Sociology (New York: Routledge, 2012), p. 4. 10 Luc Pauwels, Reframing Visual Social Science:Towards a More Visual Sociology and Anthropology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 3. 11 Gregory C. Stanczak, Visual Research Methods: Image, Society, and Representation (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2007); Claudia Mitchell, Doing Visual Research (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publishing, 2011); Eric Margolis and Luc Pauwels, eds, The SAGE Handbook of Visual Research Methods (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2011); Harper, Visual Sociology; Sarah Pink, Doing Visual Ethnography (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2013); Jonathan S. Marion and Jerome Crowder, Visual Research: A Concise Introduction to Thinking Visually (London: Bloomsbury, 2013); Pauwels, Reframing Visual Social Science; Claudia Mitchell, Naydene De Lange, and Relebohile Molestane, Participatory Visual Methodologies: Social Change, Community, and Policy (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publishing, 2017). 12 Roman R. Williams, Seeing Religion: Toward a Visual Sociology of Religion (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2015). 13 Brian J. Miller,“Still Standing after all These Years.” Visual Studies 33.4(2019): pp. 326–342. 14 International Mission Photography Archive, University of Southern California Libraries, accessed March 14, 2020, digitallibrary.usc.edu/cdm/landingpage/collection/p15799coll123. See Jon Miller, “Capturing the Visual Traces of Historical Change: The Internet Mission Photography Archive” in Visual Research Methods: Image, Society, and Representation, ed., G. C. Stanczak (Los Angeles, CA: SAGE Publishing, 2007), pp. 83–119. 15 Photogrammer,Yale University, accessed March 14, 2020, photogrammar.yale.edu. 16 Jerome Krase and Timothy Shortell, “On the Spatial Semiotics of Vernacular Landscapes in Global Cities,” Visual Communication 10(2011): 367–99. Scholars are invited to make use of their photographs, which are available at brooklynsoc.blog. 17 Camilo José Vergara, How the Other Half Worships (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2005). 18 Philip Richter, Sundays (Salisbury: Lucidity, 2007). 19 Mette Andersson,“Religion in Inner City Oslo.” Street Signs Spring (2009): pp. 5–7 20 Jerome Krase and Timothy Shortell, “Seeing Islam in Global Cities: A Spatial Semiotic Analysis” in Seeing Religion: Toward a Visual Sociology of Religion, ed., R.R. Williams (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2015), pp. 61–84;Timothy Shortell,“Brooklyn and Belleville: On the Spatial Semiotics of Ethnic Identity in Immigrant Neighborhoods” in The World in Brooklyn: Gentrification, Immigration and Ethnic Politics in a Global City, eds, J. DeSena and T. Shortell (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2012), pp. 259–88. 21 Martin H. Krieger, Urban Tomographies (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011). 22 Liz Hingley, Under Gods: Stories from Soho Road (Stockport: Dewi Lewis, 2011). 23 Christopher Schietle and Roger Finke, Places of Faith: A Road Trip across America’s Religious Landscape (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012). 24 Katie Day, Faith on the Avenue (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014); “Exploring an Urban Ecology Visually: Spatial Approaches to Studying Social Contrasts along Germantown Avenue” in Seeing Religion: Toward a Visual Sociology of Religion, ed., R.R. Williams (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2015), pp. 22–43. 25 Benoît Vermander, Liz Hingley, and Liang Zhang, Shanghai Sacred:The Religious Landscape of a Global City (Seattle,WA: University of Washington Press, 2018). 26 Pink, Doing Visual Ethnography. 27 Roman R.Williams and Kyle Whitehouse, “Photo Elicitation and the Visual Sociology of Religion.” Review of Religious Research 57(2015): pp. 303–18. 28 Marcus Banks, Using Visual Data in Qualitative Research (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2007), p. 65. 29 Nancy T. Ammerman and Roman R.Williams,“Speaking of Methods: Eliciting Religious Narratives through Interviews, Photos, and Oral Diaries” in Annual Review of the Sociology of Religion,Volume 3: New Methods in the Sociology of Religion, eds, L. Berzano and O. Riis (Leiden: Brill, 2012), pp. 117–34. 30 Vassenden and Andersson,“Religious Symbols on Rearview Mirrors.”

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Roman R. Williams and Timothy Shortell 31 Robert Jackson and Eleanor Nesbitt, Hindu Children in Britain (Stoke-on-Trent: Trentham Books, 1993); Eleanor Nesbitt, “Photographing Worship: Ethnographic Study of Children’s Participation in Acts of Worship.” Visual Anthropology 5(1993): pp. 285–306; The Religious Lives of Sikh Children: A Coventry Based Study. Leeds: University of Leeds, 2000);“Researching 8 to 13-Year-Olds’ Perspectives on Their Experience of Religion” in Researching Children’s Perspectives, eds, A. Lewis and G. Lindsay (Buckingham: Open University Press, 2000), pp. 135–49. 32 Benjamin Hintze, Anders Vassenden, Roger Hewitt, and Vicky Skiftou, “Migration and Traces of Religious Architecture in European Areas: Perceptions ofYouths.”Diskurs Kindheits- und Jungendforschung Heft 4(2008): pp. 385–400. 33 Nancy T.Ammerman, Sacred Stories, Spiritual Tribes: Finding Religion in Everyday Life (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014). 34 Roman R. Williams, “Space for God: Lived Religion at Work, Home, and Play.” Sociology of Religion 71.3(2010): pp. 257–79; “Constructing a Calling: The Case of Evangelical Christian International Students in the United States.” Sociology of Religion 74.2(2013): pp. 254–80. 35 Sarah Dunlop and Pete Ward, “From Obligation to Consumption in Two-and-a-Half Hours: A Visual Exploration of the Sacred with Young Polish Migrants.” Journal of Contemporary Religion 27.3(2012): pp. 433–51;“Narrated Photography:Visual Representations of the Sacred among Young Polish Migrants.” Fieldwork in Religion 9.1(2015): pp. 30–52. 36 Hendrik Pieter de Roest,“‘Losing a Common Space to Connect’:An Inquiry into Inside Perspectives on Church Closure using Visual Methods.” International Journal of Practical Theology 17.2(2013): pp. 292–313. 37 Cindy Dell Clark,“The Autodriven Interview:A Photographic Viewfinder into Children’s Experience.” Visual Sociology 14(1999): pp. 39–50. 38 Howard Becker, “Photography and Sociology.” Studies in the Anthropology of Visual Communication 1.1(1974): pp. 3–26. 39 The difference between using researcher-produced and participant-produced photographs in elicitation interviewing may be likened to the contrast between a priori and inductive approaches to coding. The former comes to the task with preexisting concepts and categories, while the latter expects new discoveries to emerge from the process. 40 See Melvin Delgado, Urban Youth and Photovoice: Visual Ethnography in Action (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015). 41 See Harper, Visual Sociology pp. 188–206. 42 Katherine Side, “Snapshot on Identity: Women’s Contributions Addressing Community Relations in a Rural Northern Irish District.” Women’s Studies International Forum 28(2005): pp. 315–27; Dana Harley and Vanessa Hunn,“Utilization of Photovoice to Explore Hope and Spirituality Among LowIncome African American Adolescents.” Child and Adolescent Social Work Journal 32(2015): pp. 3–15; Claire Dwyer,“Photographing Faith in Suburbia.” Cultural Geographies 22.3(2015): pp. 531–38; Roman R.Williams,“Engaging and Researching Congregations Visually: Photovoice in a Mid-Sized Church.” Ecclesial Practices 6.1(2019): pp. 5–27; Roman R.Williams,William L. Sachs, Catherine Holtmann, Elena G. van Stee, Kaitlyn Eekhoff, Michael Bos, and Ammar Amonette, “Through One Another’s Lenses: Photovoice and Interfaith Dialogue” in Annual Review of the Sociology of Religion, Volume 10: Interreligious Dialogue: From Religion to Geopolitics, eds, Giuseppe Giordan and Andrew P. Lynch (Leiden: Brill, 2019), pp. 253–74. 43 Maggie O’Neill and Phil Hubbard, “Walking, Sensing, Belonging: Ethno-mimesis as Performative Praxis.” Visual Studies 25.1(2010): p. 47. 44 Brinton Lykes, “Silence(ing), Voice(s) and Gross Violations of Human Rights: Constituting and Performing Subjectivities through PhotoPAR.” Visual Studies 25.3(2010): pp. 238–54. 45 John L. Oliffe, Joan L. Bottorff, Mary Kelly, and Michael Halpin, “Analyzing Participant Produced Photographs from an Ethnographic Study of Fatherhood and Smoking.” Research in Nursing & Health 31(2008): pp. 529–39. 46 Hubert Knoblauch, Bernt Schnettler, Jürgen Raab, and Hans-Georg Soeffner, eds, Video Analysis: Methodology and Methods (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2012). 47 Gillian Rose, Visual Methodologies:An Introduction to the Interpretation of Visual Materials (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2016). 48 Theo van Leeuwen and Carey Jewitt, Handbook of Visual Analysis (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2001). 49 Pink, Doing Visual Ethnography, p. 75. 50 Pauwels, Reframing Visual Social Science, pp. 280ff.

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Eyes upon the street 51 Steven J. Gold, “Ethical Issues in the Visual Field” in New Technology in Sociology: Practical Applications in Research and Work, eds, G. Blank, J.L. McCartney, and E. Brent (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 1989), pp. 99–109; Claudia Mitchell, Doing Visual Research (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publishing, 2012); Rose Wiles, Andrew Clark, and Jon Prosser, “Visual Research Ethics at the Crossroads” in The SAGE Handbook of Visual Research Methods, eds, E. Margolis and L. Pauwels (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2011), pp. 685–706; Caroline Wang and Yanique A. Redwood-Jones, “Photovoice Ethics: Perspectives from Flint Photovoice.” Health Education and Behavior 28.5(2001): pp. 560–72. 52 International Visual Sociology Association, accessed March 20, 2020, “Code of Research Ethics,” visualsociology.org/about/ethics-and-guidelines.html. 53 Visual Studies 19.2(2004). 54 Society for Visual Anthropology, accessed March 20, 2020, “Ethics,” societyforvisualanthroplogy.org/ about/ethics. 55 Larry Gross, John Stuart Katz, and Jay Ruby, eds, Image Ethics in the Digital Age (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2003). 56 Claudia Mitchell, Doing Visual Research, pp. 17–18; Jennifer Thompson, “Picturing Consent: Using Photographs in a Visual Consent Form” in Ethical Research Involving Children, eds, A. Graham, M. Powell, N.Taylor, D. Anderson, and R. Fitzgerald (Florence: UNICEF Office of Research, 2013), pp. 141–44. 57 Andrew Clark,“Visual Ethics in a Contemporary Landscape” in Advances in Visual Methodology, ed., S. Pink.Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2012), pp. 17–36. 58 The case study on spatial semiotics is authored by Timothy Shortell and all personal pronouns in the first person refer to him. 59 Timothy Shortell, “Brooklyn and Belleville: On the Spatial Semiotics of Ethnic Identity in Immigrant Neighborhoods” in The World in Brooklyn: Gentrification, Immigration and Ethnic Politics in a Global City, eds, J. DeSena and T. Shortell (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2012), pp. 259–88; Everyday Globalization: A Spatial Semiotics of Immigrant Neighborhoods in Brooklyn and Paris (New York: Routledge, 2016); Krase and Shortell,“Seeing Islam in Global Cities”; Shortell and Krase,“On the Visual Semiotics of Collective Identity in Urban Vernacular Spaces”; Timothy Shortell and Konrad Aderer, “Drifting in Chinatowns: Toward a Situationist Analysis of Polyglot Urban Spaces in New York, Paris, and London” in Walking in the European City: Quotidian Mobility and Urban Ethnography, eds,T. Shortell and E. Brown (Ashgate: 2014), pp. 109–28. 60 Georg Simmel, “Sociology of Space” in Simmel on Culture, eds, D. Frisby and M. Featherstone (London: Sage, 1997), pp. 137–70;“Sociology of the Senses” in Simmel on Culture, eds, D. Frisby and M. Featherstone (London: Sage, 1997), pp. 109–20. 61 This theorizing, from Simmel onward, works from an uncritical ableism with respect to motility and sight. Not everyone relates to urban places by moving around in them or by seeing them. Nonetheless, for many urban dwellers, the visual channel is highly significant in quotidian mobilities and often regarded as unremarkable in its ordinariness. 62 Urban Archive, accessed March 20, 2020, www.urbanarchive.org/cities/nyc. 63 Clifford Geertz,“Thick Description:Toward an Interpretive Theory of Culture” in The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays (New York: Basic Books, 1973), pp. 3–32. 64 Erving Goffman, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (New York: Anchor Books, 1959), p. 2; exclusive language and emphasis in the original. 65 Erving Goffman, Stigma: Note on the Management of Spoiled Identity (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1963), p. 4. 66 Roman Jakobson, “Closing Statement: Linguistics and Poetics” in Style in Language, ed., T. A. Sebeok (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1960), pp. 350–77; “Verbal Communication” in Communication, ed., Scientific American (San Francisco, CA: Freeman, 1972), pp. 39–44. 67 Joan Wallach Scott, The Politics of the Veil (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2007). 68 Religious dress, then, can activate multiple functions. For the wearer, it might be phatic or expressive depending on the context. But it is also a sign that the wearer “gives off ” and can activate a conative function for others, for example.An ethnographic approach could reveal the meanings that wearers attach to their dress but might miss the ways in which others co-present in urban spaces understand the identity signification. 69 Elijah Anderson, The Cosmopolitan Canopy: Race and Civility in Everyday Life (New York: Norton, 2011). 70 Jon H. Rieger, “Photographing Social Change.” Visual Sociology 11(1996): pp. 5–49; “A Retrospective Visual Study of Social Change:The Pulp-logging Industry in an Upper Peninsula Michigan County.” Visual Studies 18(2003): pp. 157–78.

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Bibliography Ammerman, Nancy T. Sacred Stories, Spiritual Tribes: Finding Religion in Everyday Life (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014). Ammerman, Nancy T. and Roman R. Williams. “Speaking of Methods: Eliciting Religious Narratives through Interviews, Photos, and Oral Diaries.” In Annual Review of the Sociology of Religion, Volume 3: New Methods in the Sociology of Religion, eds, L. Berzano and O. Riis (Leiden: Brill, 2012), pp. 117–34. Anderson, Elijah. The Cosmopolitan Canopy: Race and Civility in Everyday Life (New York: Norton, 2011). Andersson, Mette.“Religion in Inner City Oslo.” Street Signs (Spring 2009): pp. 5–7. Banks, Marcus. Using Visual Data in Qualitative Research (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2007). Becker, Howard.“Photography and Sociology.” Studies in the Anthropology of Visual Communication 1, No. 1 (1974): pp. 3–26. Brenneman, Robert E. and Brian Miller. Building Faith: A Sociology of Religious Architecture. New York: Oxford University Press, 2020. Clark,Andrew.“Visual Ethics in a Contemporary Landscape.” In Advances in Visual Methodology, ed., S. Pink (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2012), pp. 17–36. Day, Katie. “Exploring an Urban Ecology Visually: Spatial Approaches to Studying Social Contrasts along Germantown Avenue.” In Seeing Religion:Toward a Visual Sociology of Religion, ed., Roman R.Williams (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2015), pp. 22–43. _____. Faith on the Avenue (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014). de Roest, Hendrik Pieter. “‘Losing a Common Space to Connect’: An Inquiry into Inside Perspectives on Church Closure using Visual Methods.” International Journal of Practical Theology 17, No. 2 (2013): pp. 292–313. Delgado, Melvin. Urban Youth and Photovoice: Visual Ethnography in Action (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015). Dell Clark, Cindy. “The Autodriven Interview: A Photographic Viewfinder into Children’s Experience.” Visual Sociology 14 (1999): pp. 39–50. Dunlop, Sarah and Pete Ward. “From Obligation to Consumption in Two-and-a-half Hours: A Visual Exploration of the Sacred with Young Polish Migrants.” Journal of Contemporary Religion 27, No. 3 (2012): pp. 433–51. _____. “Narrated Photography: Visual Representations of the Sacred among Young Polish Migrants.” Fieldwork in Religion 9, No. 1 (2015): pp. 30–52. Durkheim, Emile. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life (New York: Free Press, 1995). Dwyer, Claire.“Photographing Faith in Suburbia.” Cultural Geographies 22, No. 3 (2015): pp. 531–38. Geertz, Clifford. “Thick Description: Toward an Interpretive Theory of Culture.” In The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays (New York: Basic Books, 1973). Goffman, Erving. The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (New York:Anchor Books, 1959). _____. Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1963). Gold, Steven J. “Ethical Issues in the Visual Field.” In New Technology in Sociology: Practical Applications in Research and Work, eds, Grant Blank, James L. McCartney, and Edward Brent (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishing, 1989), pp. 99–109. Gross, Larry, John Stuart Katz, and Jay Ruby, eds, Image Ethics in the Digital Age (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2003). Harley, Dana and Vanessa Hunn.“Utilization of Photovoice to Explore Hope and Spirituality Among LowIncome African American Adolescents.” Child and Adolescent Social Work Journal 32 (2015): pp. 3–15. Harper, Douglas. Visual Sociology (New York: Routledge, 2012). Hartson, Taylor. “Converted Structures: Understanding Material Expressions of the Sacred and Secular.” Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion, St. Louis, MO, October 2019. Hingley, Liz. Under Gods: Stories from Soho Road (Stockport: Dewi Lewis, 2012). Hintze, Benjamin,Anders Vassenden, Roger Hewitt, and Vicky Skiftou.“Migration and Traces of Religious Architecture in European Areas: Perceptions of Youths.” Diskurs Kindheits- und Jungendforschung Heft 4 (2008): pp. 385–400. Jackson, Robert and Eleanor Nesbitt. Hindu Children in Britain (Stoke-on-Trent, Staffordshire: Trentham Books, 1993). Jacobs, Jane. The Death and Life of Great American Cities (New York: Random House, 1992).

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Eyes upon the street Jakobson, Roman.“Closing Statement: Linguistics and Poetics.” In Style in Language, ed.,Thomas A. Sebeok (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1960), pp. 350–77. ——. “Verbal Communication.” In Communication, ed., Scientific American (San Francisco, CA: Freeman, 1972), pp. 39–44. Knoblauch, Hubert, Bernt Schnettler, Jürgen Raab, and Hans-Georg Soeffner, eds, Video Analysis: Methodology and Methods (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2012). Krase, Jerome and Timothy Shortell.“On the Spatial Semiotics of Vernacular Landscapes in Global Cities.” Visual Communication 10 (2011): pp. 367–99. ——.“Seeing Islam in Global Cities:A Spatial Semiotic Analysis.” In Seeing Religion:Toward a Visual Sociology of Religion, ed., Roman. R.Williams (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2015), pp. 61–84. Kreinath, Jens. “Discursive Formation, Ethnographic Encounter, Photographic Evidence: The Centenary of Durkheim’s Basic Forms of Religious Life and the Anthropological Study of Australian Aboriginal Religion in His Time.” Visual Anthropology 25 (2012): pp. 367–420. Krieger, Martin H. Urban Tomographies (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011). Lykes, M. Brinton. “Silence(ing), Voice(s) and Gross Violations of Human Rights: Constituting and Performing Subjectivities Through PhotoPAR.” Visual Studies 25, No. 3 (2010): pp. 238–54. Margolis, Eric and Luc Pauwels, eds, The SAGE Handbook of Visual Research Methods (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2011). Marion, Jonathan S. and Jerome Crowder. Visual Research:A Concise Introduction to Thinking Visually (London: Bloomsbury, 2013). Miller, Brian J.“Still Standing after all These Years.” Visual Studies 33.4 (2019): 326–342. Miller, Brian and Robert E. Brenneman. Building Faith: A Sociology of Religious Architecture (New York: Oxford University Press, 2020). Miller, Jon.“Capturing the Visual Traces of Historical Change:The Internet Mission Photography Archive.” In Visual Research Methods: Image, Society, and Representation, ed., Gregory C. Stanczak (Los Angeles, CA: SAGE Publications, 2007), pp. 83–119. Mitchell, Claudia. Doing Visual Research (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2011). Mitchell, Claudia, Naydene De Lange, and Relebohile Molestane. Participatory Visual Methodologies: Social Change, Community, and Policy (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2017). Nesbitt, Eleanor. “Photographing Worship: Ethnographic Study of Children’s Participation in Acts of Worship.” Visual Anthropology 5 (1993): pp. 285–306. ——. The Religious Lives of Sikh Children:A Coventry Based Study (Leeds: University of Leeds, 2000). ——. “Researching 8 to 13-Year-Olds’ Perspectives on Their Experience of Religion.” In Researching Children’s Perspectives, eds, Ann Lewis and Geoff Lindsay (Buckingham: Open University Press, 2000), pp. 135–49. Oliffe, John L., Joan L. Bottorff, Mary Kelly, and Michael Halpin. “Analyzing Participant Produced Photographs from an Ethnographic Study of Fatherhood and Smoking.” Research in Nursing & Health 31 (2008): pp. 529–39. O’Neill, Maggie and Phil Hubbard.“Walking, Sensing, Belonging: Ethno-Mimesis as Performative Praxis.” Visual Studies 25, No. 1 (2010): pp. 46–58. Pauwels, Luc. Reframing Visual Social Science: Towards a More Visual Sociology and Anthropology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015). Pew Research Center.“Mobile Fact Sheet.” 2018. Retrieved June 25, 2018.Available at www.pewinternet. org/fact-sheet/mobile/. Pink, Sarah. Doing Visual Ethnography (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2013). Richter, Philip. Sundays (Salisbury: Lucidity, 2007). Rieger, Jon H.“Photographing Social Change.” Visual Sociology 11 (1996): pp. 5–49. ——.“A Retrospective Visual Study of Social Change:The Pulp-logging Industry in an Upper Peninsula Michigan County.” Visual Studies 18 (2003): pp. 157–78. Rose, Gillian. Visual Methodologies: An Introduction to the Interpretation of Visual Materials (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2016). Scheitle, Christopher P. and Roger Finke. Places of Faith: A Road Trip across America's Religious Landscape (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012). Scott, Joan Wallach. The Politics of the Veil (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2007). Shortell, Timothy. “Brooklyn and Belleville: On the Spatial Semiotics of Ethnic Identity in Immigrant Neighborhoods.” In The World in Brooklyn: Gentrification, Immigration and Ethnic Politics in a Global City, eds, Judith N. DeSena and Timothy Shortell (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2012), pp. 259–88.

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Roman R. Williams and Timothy Shortell ——. Everyday Globalization:A Spatial Semiotics of Immigrant Neighborhoods in Brooklyn and Paris (New York: Routledge, 2016). Shortell,Timothy and Jerome Krase. “On the Visual Semiotics of Collective Identity in Urban Vernacular Spaces.” In Sociology of the Visual Sphere, eds, Regev Nathansohn and Dennis Zuev (NewYork: Routledge, 2013). pp. 108–28. Shortell,Timothy and Konrad Aderer.“Drifting in Chinatowns:Toward a Situationist Analysis of Polyglot Urban Spaces in New York, Paris, and London.” In Walking in the European City: Quotidian Mobility and Urban Ethnography, eds,Timothy Shortell and Erick Brown (Surrey:Ashgate, 2014), pp. 109–128. Side, Katherine. “Snapshot on Identity: Women’s Contributions Addressing Community Relations in a Rural Northern Irish District.” Women’s Studies International Forum 28 (2005): pp. 315–27. Simmel, Georg. “Sociology of Space.” In Simmel on Culture, eds, David Frisby and Mike Featherstone (London: SAGE, 1997), pp. 137–70. ——.“Sociology of the Senses.” In Simmel on Culture, eds, David Frisby and Mike Featherstone (London: SAGE, 1997), pp. 109–20. Stanczak, Gregory C. Visual Research Methods: Image, Society, and Representation (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2007). Thompson, Jennifer.“Picturing Consent: Using Photographs in a Visual Consent Form.” In Ethical Research Involving Children, eds, Ann Graham, Mary Powell, Nicola Taylor, Donnah Anderson, and Robyn Fitzgerald (Florence: UNICEF Office of Research, 2013), pp. 141–44. Available at childethics.com. Tufte, Edward. Beautiful Evidence (Cheshire, CT: Graphics Press, 2006). van Leeuwen, Theo and Carey Jewitt, eds, Handbook of Visual Analysis (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2001). Vassenden, Anders and Mette Andersson. “Religious Symbols on Rearview Mirrors: Displays of Faith or Hopes for Safe Travel?” In Seeing Religion:Toward a Visual Sociology of Religion, ed., Roman R.Williams (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2015), pp. 85–102. ——.“When an Image Becomes Sacred: Photo-Elicitation with Images of Holy Books.” Visual Studies 25 (2010): pp. 149–61. Vergara, Camilo José. How the Other Half Worships (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2005). Vermander, Benoît, Liz Hingley, and Liang Zhang. Shanghai Sacred:The Religious Landscape of a Global City (Seattle,WA: University of Washington Press, 2018). Wang, Caroline and Yanique A. Redwood-Jones.“Photovoice Ethics: Perspectives from Flint Photovoice.” Health Education and Behavior 28, No. 5 (2001): pp. 560–72. Wiles, Rose, Andrew Clark, and Jon Prosser. “Visual Research Ethics at the Crossroads.” In The SAGE Handbook of Visual Research Methods, eds, Eric Margolis and Luc Pauwels (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, 2011), pp. 685–706. Williams, Roman R.“Constructing a Calling:The Case of Evangelical Christian International Students in the United States.” Sociology of Religion 74, No. 2 (2013): pp. 254–80. ——. “Engaging and Researching Congregations Visually: Photovoice in a Mid-Sized Church.” Ecclesial Practices 6, No. 1 (2019): pp. 5–27. ——, ed., Seeing Religion:Toward a Visual Sociology of Religion (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2015). ——.“Space for God: Lived Religion at Work, Home, and Play.” Sociology of Religion 71, No. 3 (2010): pp. 257–79. Williams, Roman R. and Kyle Whitehouse. “Photo Elicitation and the Visual Sociology of Religion.” Review of Religious Research 57, No. 2 (2015): pp. 303–18. Williams, Roman R.,William L. Sachs, Catherine Holtmann, Elena G. van Stee, Kaitlyn Eekhoff, Michael Bos, and Ammar Amonette. “Through One Another’s Lenses: Photovoice and Interfaith Dialogue.” In Annual Review of the Sociology of Religion, Volume 10: Interreligious Dialogue: From Religion to Geopolitics, eds, Giuseppe Giordan and Andrew P. Lynch (Leiden: Brill, 2019), pp. 253–74.

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5 ARCHITECTURAL ANALYSIS Approaching the study of religion and cities through the built environment Elise M. Edwards

Introduction The built environment is a ubiquitous part of human existence. The constructed spaces we inhabit, along with the cultivated landscapes, roads, and infrastructure between them, were envisioned and then built through human innovation and labor. As such, these designed spaces, which we typically call architecture, express human values as they provide the settings in which religious activity and expression take place. How might analysis of architecture be used in the study of religion and cities? Architectural analysis yields insights into religious identity and presence, material culture, belief and practice, and community life in cities. When we examine the built environment for insights into religion and cities, our objects of consideration include religious architecture and also distinct elements in that architecture (towers, walls, doors, windows, murals and frescoes, altars, shrines, domes, etc.).The religious architecture we examine can be particular buildings, like the Great Mosque in Xi’an, or a building type, like mosques. But just as religion spills out into city spaces beyond the walls of religious institutions, so does religious influence pervade the built environment. Sanjoy Mazumdar and Shampa Mazumdar suggest that there may be five areas in which religion currently interfaces with public life and impacts urban design: religious communities and neighborhoods, religious institutions and structures, religious use of public space, religion and housing, and religion and health.1 Accordingly, we may find that the study of religion in a city’s built environment takes us into religious enclaves with residences, businesses, and recreational spaces; religious institutions whose primary purpose is not oriented around worship (like schools); public spaces where religious ceremonies, processions, and festivals are held; homes; and medical facilities, burial sites, and memorials where bodies are cared for in life and death. We reserve the designation “religious architecture” for buildings that have been constructed for religious use. Rachel Hildebrandt and Chad Martin, in their chapter “Urban Historic Sacred Places in Transition,” refer to these kinds of buildings as “purpose-built” spaces. Religious purposes and uses include prayer, worship, ritual, and gatherings for the religious community. Religious architecture may also designate places like monasteries and cloisters which house 67

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spaces for dedicated religious use, but may also include residential and educational spaces specifically designated for the religious community that uses them; this distinctive community use sets the architecture apart, literally and figuratively, from non-religious architecture.This distinctiveness is often a trait associated with sacred space. Referring to something as “sacred” denotes a special quality that sets it apart from everyday use. “Sacred” shares a common etymology with “consecrated,” and they both suggest holiness and indicate that an object or place is “entitled to veneration or religious respect; made holy by association with a god or other object of worship.”2 So when we refer to sacred space, the term includes not only religious spaces, but spaces that possess a “note of otherness” that may direct our attention to the divine or spiritual matters, or “evoke reverence for the wider good.”3 It is not difficult to understand how natural environments, like lakes and forests, might be perceived as sacred spaces and places, but city parks, museums, and institutional buildings, too, often attract reverence and direct attention to higher things. These works of architecture (and landscape architecture) may not be religious, but they may indeed be perceived as sacred by a city’s inhabitants. The study of architecture in relation to religion and cities can be approached by several different methods; determining which is appropriate depends on the research questions that drive a study. Conventionally, the kind of architectural analysis that architectural critics use is preoccupied with a building’s form: its layout, structure, organization, and architectural elements like columns, doors, ornamentation, and materials. Conventional ways of conducting architectural analysis also consider a building’s function: how it works and how the building’s form supports particular functions. Researchers in religion would be especially attentive to functions we describe as religious or integral to religious life. But not all studies of religious buildings focus on architectural form or function; yet, such studies, too, represent a typology of architectural analysis that intersects with the study of religion and urban settings. This paper presents three different approaches to architectural analysis which can be distinguished as follows: 1) analysis of religious buildings and their relation to a specific urban context; 2) examination of spatial considerations, such as the presence and significance of religious buildings in the city’s landscape and master plan; and 3) analysis of religious, sacred, or theological values influencing the design and construction of buildings. All three of these approaches are compatible with an ecological model of religion and cities scholarship, one which seeks to understand how religion impacts urban life, and how urban life impacts religion. Using these three methods, researchers can design investigations into how urban architecture affects religious practice, belief, and community formation and, reciprocally, how religion impacts the architecture and built environment of a city. The remainder of this chapter describes these three methodologies and provides examples of them along with the research questions behind the work so that readers can adopt these methods in their own research and practice. The first approach, analysis of religious buildings and their architectural elements, is the approach most obviously connected to the traditional study of architecture and historic preservation.The first approach could be understood as a micro-level examination, looking at particular buildings and the elements in that building, such as doors, towers, facades, and ornamental objects.The second approach is an examination at the macrolevel, looking at the ordering of the city, its broad patterns, and how the presence of religious architecture affects and is affected by urban conditions. The second approach is more directly connected to urban planning and geography, as it focuses on the significance of buildings within larger systems that we understand as neighborhoods and cities, but does not assess the buildings themselves closely. Like the others, the third approach looks at architecture and spatial patterns, but it diverges from other approaches in that it could actually be understood as a more ethical 68

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or theological project.This approach is used to investigate what religious traditions and spiritual outlooks offer to communities as ideals that can be expressed though architecture. Its inquiries apply human aspirations and ideologies to the built environment. How are humans expected to live with nature? What religious or spiritual worldviews inform the design of particular urban buildings or their existence within the city? Are there religious ideas guiding the very creation of urban architecture? The third approach’s analysis centers on these types of questions.

Approach 1: Analyzing religious buildings as parts or wholes The most prevalent form of religious analysis of buildings and other elements of the built environment is a kind of architectural analysis that focuses on buildings and their parts (facades, columns, windows, roofs, towers, ornaments, etc.) and assesses how they express religious symbolism or identity and support religious use. A search for “religious architecture” or “sacred space” in a research database is likely to reveal numerous sources that adopt this approach.This approach is very much tied to buildings and building types that are understood as having a clear religious or spiritual purpose: churches, temples, mosques, synagogues, meditation gardens, cloisters, chapels, prayer centers, and the like.This method supports an analysis of architecture as material culture.4 It is often guided by research questions such as: how does this facility accommodate the rituals that take place within it? What does the seating in this space reveal about the life of the community that meets here? Focusing on one building or part of a building can provide depth and focus to a study. Examining buildings as parts or wholes yields insights about how architecture represents a religious community or a religion itself or how the architecture in consideration serves its function, thereby serving its religious community. A scholar interested in urban religion will connect these kinds of questions to urban phenomena, like the shifting demographics of an area. In Temples for a Modern God: Religious Architecture in Postwar America, for example, author Jay Price argues that suburbanization was one factor driving the development of new types of worship buildings designed to “attract members and serve a social role as much as it had to honor the Divine.”5 For Price, the study of a particular building type—religious architecture in the US in the middle of the twentieth century—provides information about the religious communities being formed in the suburbs, the way these buildings shaped religious practice, and how the suburban shift affected the city landscape. This approach to research is often historical, even if it is focused on buildings that are presently occupied or under construction. It is historical in the sense that traces the building’s connection to particular historical movements or events, or else notes changes to architecture over time and interprets that data for what it reveals about a particular social or cultural context.Architectural analysis is used here to document a chronological record, the emergence or development of a trend, or the progression of an institution’s life. However, researchers should be wary of relying on historical documents and photographs alone to analyze a building. If buildings are still intact, it is best to visit them to get the full experience of the architecture, and supplement these with historical records, architectural drawings (a.k.a. blueprints), and photographs.6 Although I have described the examination of religious architecture as one approach to architectural analysis, there is diversity in how this kind of analysis might be conducted. One tactic looks at a building’s features or their relation to each other and describes the religious significance or symbology of these elements.When this tactic is employed in the study of religion and cities, the significance of these architectural elements is examined in relation to the building’s urban context—its surrounding streets and neighborhoods or its contribution to city life. At the 2018 American Academy of Religion (AAR) Annual Meetings, Daria Pezzoli-Olgiati 69

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presented research that used this approach.7 Using the House of Religions in Bern, Switzerland as a case study, Pezzoli-Olgiati analyzed the building’s architecture to pursue questions about normative discourses of religious difference and plurality. The House of Religions contains religious spaces for five different world religions. The way its various architectural styles and elements are combined and placed in relation to one another under one roof, and the ways the various worshipping communities navigate their shared space provide insights about how coexistence of diverse groups might be sustained in the city. Pezzoli-Olgiati’s research demonstrates that even by analyzing a single building, researchers can gain insights into architectural practices that have broader applications to urban environments. Another way of analyzing religious architecture focuses on architectural details and elements for the values, symbols, or meanings that they present.This is a common approach to architectural analysis in theology and religious studies, irrespective of any focus on the urban environment.8 What religious values or theology has motivated design choices in particular buildings? What religious sensibilities or spirituality undergirds a particular designer’s work? This approach to architectural analysis can help researchers determine what a building is “saying” to the community that surrounds it; that is, what it represents to those who engage with it. When a building’s meaning or significance intersects with urban patterns and a city’s representation of itself, it become relevant for the study of religion and cities.This is the type of analysis we see in the aforementioned Temples for a Modern God: Religious Architecture in Postwar America.This kind of analysis can even be applied to non-religious buildings that express some form of sacred idea or spiritual power, as theologian Murray Rae demonstrates. In “Building from the Rubble: Reaching for Redemption through Memory and Hope,”9 Rae considers architect Daniel Libeskind’s proposal for Ground Zero in New York and his Jewish Museum in Berlin. Rae’s analysis shows us how of these architectural works express “lament at the evil that is done” as the Jewish and Christian scriptures do,10 but also how these designs fulfill spiritual needs in their cities, providing visitors and urban dwellers with spaces that evocatively recount the depths of human brokenness, and rekindle hope for redemption and renewal. Architecture, quite literally, constructs a world in which living takes place. It does more than create a physical world, however; it creates symbolic and relational worlds.Architecture presents specific interpretations of the ways we should relate to each other by creating zones for particular activities and the people who perform them. An example of a non-religious building type may help illustrate this point: In a restaurant, there are various areas occupied by different groups: the waiting area, the host’s stand, the dining area, the bar, the kitchen, the restrooms, etc. Each of these areas are designated for people assigned distinct roles or tasks.A customer, for example, does not belong in the kitchen. Someone who busses tables might be reprimanded for hanging out in the waiting area. In houses of worship and other religious buildings, similar divisions and distinctions occur: religious leaders occupy one zone, visitors another, and yet another for musicians and other performers. Architecturally, the separation of these areas can be indicated by subtle changes in floor or ceiling heights and materials, or by more robust divisions with partitions, walls, or doors that control access from broadly accessible areas to more restricted spaces.11 Communication of who belongs where does not occur only inside buildings. Building elements on the exterior often indicate the identity of the religious community who gathers there.What faith does this building represent? What ethnic or cultural group claims this space? These types of questions are relevant when scholars of religion and cities want to determine the characteristics of urban religion.This kind of analysis helps provide a thick description of a religious community, its use of a building, how it distinguishes itself, and its perceived and actual place in its city.This analysis may be useful on its own for understanding the phenomenon of religion in a particular location. 70

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It may also inform the kind of work done in the third approach discussed in this essay, which distills or constructs religious values and principles, especially cosmological teachings or ethical teachings, from architecture. Studies of urban religion that adopt sociological, ethnographic, or historical methodologies often include elements of this approach to architectural analysis too. One reason for studying buildings that a community often ascribes a sense of sacredness or distinctive qualities to its religious architecture, architectural elements, or design practices. Thus, works of architecture (like St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome) or iconic elements within them (like Michelangelo’s Pietà in St. Peter’s) become objects of devotion or pilgrimage in themselves or orient community life in ways that can be studied through various research methodologies.12 Pairing architectural analysis with qualitative research methods can uncover local impressions of architecture and the reasoning behind the design decisions that were made. Mazumdar and Mazumdar illustrate this combination of methods in their ethnographic study of Zoroastrian domestic architecture.13 They document how Zoroastrian vernacular architecture adopted “fortress-like” qualities and how architectural features were used to symbolize resistance and sustain the minority religious group’s cultural identity in predominantly Muslim Iran. Rather than focusing on building elements or their meaning, examinations of religious architecture in part or as a whole might also look at particular buildings and how their function has changed as they have adapted. Such research provides valuable information about the transformation of faith communities, changes to religious traditions and rituals, and emerging patterns of social connection between religious institutions and other social groups and institutions. For example, Heather White’s research on the controversial site of the Limelight Nightclub in New York makes visible a little-known history of church partnerships with queer organizations. White finds that several Episcopalian congregations in Chelsea and the West Village provided meeting space for various activities and religious services organized by gay and lesbian organizations throughout the late 1960s and early 1970s.14 Work such as this uncovers the spatial implications of social movements and spiritual practices. In what ways do religious spaces serve as vital resources in their cities and neighborhoods? How do changes to religious buildings reflect broader changes in the city? This approach to architectural analysis provokes religion and history scholars and urban planners to account for the way physical spaces aid (or possibly circumvent) social transformation. It also documents changes to religious communities themselves.White’s contribution to this volume (Chapter 24), draws from the larger history to which that research alluded—the involvement of liberal Protestant clergy and congregations in the emerging 1960s through early 1970s gay rights movement. Another area of study concerning buildings’ changes concerns the adaptive reuse of facilities. When religious institutions close or can no longer maintain their purpose-built religious buildings or choose to leave them for new sites, the existing buildings are sometimes sold or leased to new occupants who convert them into new uses. One can find residences, stores, museums, art galleries, and—as suggested above—nightclubs in former churches, synagogues, and other religious spaces. Purpose-built religious spaces that have been converted for use from one religious tradition to another offer a particularly compelling area of study for religion in the built environment.The presence of “storefront churches,” spaces occupied by religious communities in commercial space, alerts us to the increasing presence of non-purpose-built religious spaces. In some cities, storefront churches are contested, seen as an indicator of urban blight and transitory religious presence. Places of adaptive reuse raise issues about what constitutes the sacred and also turn scholarly attention to conflicts within neighborhoods over the proper place of religious activity and the new communities who take over these sites. Although research on the changes to religious architecture tends to document transformations that have occurred in the past, this work can have a very present- or future-focused intent 71

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behind it. Studies undertaken by Philadelphia’s Partners for Sacred Places (discussed in Chapter 19 of this volume) have documented services provided by religious congregations housed in historic buildings and their social impact. While Partners for Sacred Places surveys document the existing conditions of religious properties, their work aims to prevent the future decline or demolition of older and historic religious buildings, hoping instead to see the buildings revived or adapted in ways that enrich local communities.This work has a direct impact on vulnerable religious organizations and the programs that occupy their facilities. Without adequate spaces to carry out their mission, religious institutions and their community partners often find their mission itself in jeopardy. In the wake of the novel coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic, architectural analysis of religious buildings that house community services (or have the potential to house them) can impact whether these facilities remain open or can become available for community use in the future. During the pandemic, many institutions closed their doors to in-person religious services and social services, often moving such programs online.While some types of services can be adapted from a face-to-face format to online (such as teaching or some components of worship), other social services still have discrete space needs (like food services and child care). Congregations and religious institutions who were already struggling to maintain their facilities may face even more challenges after the coronavirus pandemic if their operating budgets decline due to loss of income from space-use rentals, economic hardship among the members who support the religious institution, or loss of members. Architectural analysis that documents building conditions and usage will be crucial for positioning communities to adapt or recover from the pandemic. Using field observations and historical records to document the existing conditions and changes to religious buildings is a form of research that compiles quite empirical, objective forms of data: measurements, assessments of equipment, structural integrity, occupancy, etc. However, this research can have abstract implications that exceed its practical uses. Studying the use of a facility ultimately reveals the values that guide the organizations who use it. By understanding which kinds of use are encouraged or disallowed and how users demarcate religious space, we better understand how actual communities define what is sacred or unholy and how they navigate the tensions between them. Researchers must be cautious, though, that in their zeal to document what exists they do not overlook what is absent. Absences cannot be easily documented in photographs and measurements.15 And yet, what a building’s design does not include that is typical for a particular building type, or what has been removed, might yield valuable insights into religious activity, identity, and presence in the city. Whichever particular strategy researchers adopt to understanding religious architecture in its parts or as a whole, analysis of the architectural elements of religious architecture and sacred spaces tends to focus on understanding the meaning and use of that building and its particular features. Researchers have numerous possibilities in how they proceed to connect that meaning to other aspects of urban life, such as trends in demographic shifts, patterns of immigration or gentrification, or the visual fabric of a streetscape or neighborhood block.This research has the potential to examine urban conflicts and issues that extend beyond a single building or building type to the broader neighborhood, city, or region, intersecting with the second approach to architectural analysis, to which we turn our attention now.

Approach 2: Examining spatial relationships Although the most conventional and accessible form of architectural analysis is a direct study of a religious building and its features, there is a second approach that scholars and researchers use to discern meaning in and through the built environment. Grounded more in methodolo72

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gies from urban planning, geography, and philosophy than architectural criticism and historic preservation, this approach examines spatial relationships or map patterns within the built environment and connects those to religious phenomena and spiritual worldviews. Like the analysis of buildings and building types, this approach can adopt a range of methods and is suited to different kinds of inquiry.What unites these methods, though, is the attempt to discern a pattern evident in constructed works that has significance for the study of religion and cities. Multiple examples of this kind of approach are included in this Handbook of Religion and Cities, often paired with the kind of architectural analysis described above or other research methodologies. As Katie Day has noted in Chapter 2, contemporary study of religion in urban ecologies often has a spatial orientation.16 The “spatial turn” in many disciplines, provoked by the work of Henri Lefebvre and Edward Soja, has led many scholars to incorporate studies of the built environment into their inquiries. The types of research questions that spatial analysis addresses often concern building presence or location and what it means for urban religious patterns and community interactions. In Chapter 13, Amidu Elabo asks what the presence of religious buildings and their ruins indicate about inter- and intra-religious power dynamics in Jos North, a city in Nigeria in which churches and mosques have become representations of religious traditions in conflict. Elabo’s study focuses on “spatial attachments,” the ideological meaning that community members give to religious sites, even when the buildings have been destroyed. Another example of spatial analysis is found in Chapter 18,“Religious Agency in the Dynamics of Gentrification: Moving In, Moving Out and Staying Put in Philadelphia,” in which Kristin Holmes discusses the capacity for churches to act as “beacons” in a gentrifying neighborhood for those who choose not to relocate when the demographics change.These chapters elucidate the way that religious buildings are often entangled in complex socio-economic and political contestations over a portion of the population’s presence in the city.The building becomes associated with the identity of the people who use it, but, as the neighborhood’s population shifts, the building becomes emblematic of tensions that exist between earlier residents and newcomers. In these examples, the spatial pattern that religious architecture reveals is related to population dislocation and resettlement.A study of religious buildings that anchor immigrant communities could adopt methods of spatial analysis and mapping. Other spatial patterns worth studying might consider the ways cities are zoned and organized and how religious sites are placed within them: is there a contemporary analog to the church on the public square/plaza of many Western medieval cities and colonial settlements? Which neighborhoods in a city are more likely to have “storefront churches” and locations for religious services in commercial or industrial facilities? How does new construction of religious facilities impact the development of surrounding sites? Future research adopting the spatial approach might find ways to move beyond religious architecture, considering that religiosity extends beyond the walls of religious institutions. Do elements of religious architecture find their ways into other building types and what do these indicate about religious identity? Although analysis of a city or neighborhood’s spatial relationships often examines buildings—which is why it bears mentioning in this chapter—surprisingly, the examination of architecture by this approach is often not as concerned with the aesthetic elements of the building as studies that adopt the first approach. It is also notable that this type of analysis might not only be applied to buildings, but to other constructed objects that may not typically be considered architecture: murals, memorials, water features, public art, and other placemaking elements.17 Chapters included in this volume by Rupa Pillai (Chapter 6) and Michael McLaughlin (Chapter 15) consider spatial arrangements of jhandis (religious flags on poles) and murals, respectively, and their significance as built objects in relation to questions of place and identity. In this type 73

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of analysis, the building or placemaking element is significant for what its presence marks, as a representation of a religious group, a cosmology, or an ideal. There are occasions when the representational function of a building is expressed through architectural style, which does bring aesthetics into consideration. Ultimately, though, the concern is about what the architectural language signifies. This is especially common in writings about religion and New Urbanism. New Urbanism is a movement that embraces humancentered design by promoting mixed-use zoning, walkable streets and paths, clear centers of activity vital for common life oriented around accessible public spaces.18 As an approach to planning and development, New Urbanism prioritizes the functionality and aesthetic appeal of traditional neighborhood design (TND) and street networks that offer multiple routes and support pedestrian activity, recreation, and public transportation. In this movement, design—from the city masterplan to the front door of a home—is vitally important for the healthy functioning of community life.19 Many New Urbanist theorists and planners have appealed to traditional architectural styles, like neoclassicism, that evoke formal patterns of organization and hierarchy through size, scale, and proportion. Buildings and public spaces which support civic virtue and communal life should be architecturally monumental, designed as to have a distinctive presence that accords with their significance, achieved either through aesthetic features that communicate gravitas and grandeur appropriate for their civic function, or by being located in the heart of a city and its activity. Léon Krier, and advocate for traditional architecture, argues that the distinction between public and private buildings should be clear: If factories have the facades of cathedrals and houses resemble royal palaces, if museums look like assembly lines and churches like industrial warehouses, a basic value of the body politic is threatened, the very nature of its public realm is in peril.20 He argues that a clear hierarchy in the built environment conveys the symbolic meaning of institutions that maintain civic life. In a traditional spatial hierarchy, the architecture for governmental, religious, and educational institutions is designed to be foreground (or signature) buildings in the urban fabric that become iconic for the city or neighborhood’s identity. Buildings for private use and commercial activities, like residences and shops, become the backdrop to the monumental civic institutions. Theologians, philosophers, and other theorists who defend this hierarchical ordering of the city by appealing to religious teachings and natural law draw New Urbanism into the ambit of religion and cities scholarship.21 Philip Bess, in several essays written throughout his career compiled in Till We Have Built Jerusalem: Architecture, Urbanism, and the Sacred, advocates for a formal ordering of cities and neighborhoods in which the “civilizing institutions” (like churches) that promote and sustain virtues among its residents are sited and designed in way that reinforces their prominence and significance. Like many of the scholars discussed in this chapter, Bess emphasizes the representational meaning of buildings: Traditionally, the primary meaning of architecture has been to symbolize institutional order. Architecture embodies civilization, the moral order we call culture.The buildings that have traditionally be recognized as architecture—palace, house, tomb, capitol, court, temple, church—physically represent the institutions that commission them.22 Because this is so, he argues that the spatial ordering of the city in traditional urbanism and New Urbanism reflects a communitarian vision rather an individualist or emotivist one: the 74

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foreground buildings should be the ones that sustain the common good in a communitarian vision of the city. Their monumental designs and prominent locations convey the symbolic power and legitimate authority of institutions that promote the common good.23 In this view, religious buildings are part of an urban ecosystem that contributes to public goodness and wellbeing. An example of this approach to traditional design can be found in Columbia, Maryland, a suburb located between Washington, DC and Baltimore.When designing Columbia’s planned communities, James Rouse placed interfaith religious centers at the heart of the local “villages.” This design of villages and the centrality of interfaith centers was arranged to overcome racial, religious, and class-based segregation in 1960s America.24 New Urbanism has been criticized for its nostalgic appeals, appearing to promote architecture that evokes a time of communal life and civic unity that never really existed. Certainly, there were deep socio-economic inequities within the hierarchies that were spatially represented in traditional European towns, colonial settlements, and American villages with a church on the public square. Also, the call to reinvest in traditional cities could easily be seen as a return to the city (a reversal of “white flight”) that promotes gentrification and displacement of economically and socially marginalized groups from urban centers.The appropriation of urban forms like row houses and townhouses into New Urbanist suburban “town centers” also speaks to a nostalgic longing for the city without relinquishing suburban life. However, Bess argues that New Urbanists are not attempting to recreate “unjust social structures—traditional urbanism requires a social order that is not only more just than contemporary postwar suburbia,” and he maintains that New Urbanist architecture and planning represents a just social order even if it cannot create it.25 Merging his defense of New Urbanist principles with theological claims, theologian Eric Jacobsen argues that Christians should see investing in traditional neighborhoods and historic cities as part of church ministry and its mission of “building up the kingdom [of God] and healing the culture.”26 His appeals recall those of Harvey Cox, published nearly 40 years earlier in The Secular City: Secularization and Urbanization in Theological Perspective. Jacobsen’s 2012 book The Space Between: A Christian Engagement with the Built Environment, which incorporates New Urbanist convictions, was written as a resource to guide Christian readers to better understand how the built environment relates to the flourishing of communities and Christian discipleship.27 Researchers who adopt an ecological approach to the study of religion must push further than Jacobsen does to examine a more reciprocal relationship between design, and religious practice and life. We should be interested not only in how or why religious individuals and communities advance the New Urbanist movement, but how New Urbanism and traditional architecture are shaping congregations. The ecological approach prioritizes inquiry about the exchanges between religion and context rather than studies of one’s action upon the other. Researchers and scholars need not be preoccupied with New Urbanism to examine the spatial logic and patterns of cities with an eye toward religion. New Urbanism is proposed as an alternative to the social divisions and ecological devastation that accompanies present-day suburban sprawl. But any configuration of urban buildings and infrastructure, from those that existed in the ancient past to utopian designs for the future, reflects a presumed social order and the values that support it. Questions about how sacred cosmologies, spiritual practices, and religious teachings inform and respond to the patterns of urban life continue to be asked and examined. The work of theorists and theologians like Bess and Jacobsen bears similarities with the approach of another group of scholars who typify the third approach to architectural analysis: those who study religious values in the built environment.These New Urbanists see a clear resonance between forms of urban life that promote a communal social order and forms of religion that deepen communal ties. Other scholars examine these ethical connections between architecture, urban planning, and religion. 75

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Approach 3: Uncovering religious values and sacred principles for the built environment The third approach to architectural analysis in the study of religion and cities bears similarities with the spatial concerns of the second approach. Its attention to the features of architectural buildings as material culture overlaps with the first approach. However, the research undertaken by this approach is more proscriptive or constructive, examining not only what the built environment is, but what it should be. In this way, it might be conceived as a more ethics-oriented approach than the other two.This third approach focuses on religious values and principles in the built environment, looking to religion and spirituality for guidance about how to design, build, and dwell in urban settings. It is not to be confused with the creation of design guidelines or manuals issued by religious institutions.The ethical approach I describe here is not a “howto” guide, but rather an invitation to identify a sacred presence in the city and its architecture and to turn to the sacred as a source of inspiration for ideal models of design. Sigurd Bergmann, a theologian who organized a conference on “Architecture, Aesth/Ethics and Religion” shared in a book published after the conference that there were two tendencies among the attendees: they either narrowly discussed religious architecture or discussed the broad relevance of religion on all architecture. Perhaps unexpectedly, it was the theologians who wanted to speak of architecture more broadly. He suggests that “as a point of departure for future reflection, we can reach agreement that the sacred has to be sought and built in whatever furthers the flourishing of the living in their diversity and wholeness.”28 What distinguishes this third approach from the others is what Bergmann advocates—a turn to religion and spirituality as a source for ethical, just architecture.The hope is that architecture, approached with inclinations toward the sacred, might help us live more justly, cohesively, and in harmony with the natural world. Many of the scholars who utilize this approach have an explicit theological perspective within their inquiry. Beginning in the early 2000s,Timothy Gorringe,29 Sigurd Bergmann,30 and Philip Sheldrake31 published seminal works that made considerations of the built environment more mainstream in theology and the arts and theological ethics. Eric Jacobsen,32 Murray Rae,33 and I34 follow in their wake, expanding the number of monographs and articles about theology and the built environment. Gorringe and Sheldrake, too, revisited themes in their earlier writings, and expanded upon them with offerings that contemplate urban settings and the challenges of contemporary life: Gorringe’s The Common Good and the Global Emergency: God and the Built Environment and Sheldrake’s The Spiritual City:Theology, Spirituality, and the Urban.35 These works are typically confessional, written to an audience of co-religionists who share their theological commitments, but may not have understood theology’s relation to architecture and city life. They discern theologies in the built environment, compiling studies that trace how architecture functions as forms of theological expression and they offer new theologies of the built environment, which reflect on how buildings help humanity and all of God’s creation live abundantly in accordance with God’s purposes.36 The search for theologies in the built environment rests on the conviction that architecture expresses the values of the society and social institutions who build and design such spaces, a claim that operates in all studies of architecture as material culture. In Christianity, Art, and Transformation: Theological Aesthetics in the Struggle for Justice, South African theologian John de Gruchy explains how architecture reveals the interests behind it: In creating the public square architecture can help us discern the values of a culture, indicating its power relations in a most concrete way.The use of colossal scale convey76

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ing power and inducing a sense of impotence; solid formal images suggesting social stability; space designed to disorient, encourage spending or segregate according to race and class; mechanisms of surveillance denying privacy and controlling access.37 The theologians and ethicists who have attempted to discern these values do not simply describe the meaning conveyed through architecture, they also critique it and offer alternatives. Although this recent surge in theological interest in the built environment is a positive development that can enrich the study of religion and cities, this scholarship is still predominantly Christian. Its authors and objects of study represent architecture and urban life from around the globe, but this body of work does not yet meet the expectation that contemporary studies of religion in urban ecologies be inclusive of multiple faiths, reflecting the religious pluralism of today’s cities.38 This is not to suggest that there are no scholars who seek to discern religious values and sacred principles for the built environment from non-Christian religious traditions, or that the aforementioned Christian theologians do not look beyond their own traditions in their research. Rather, this critique is offered to prompt us to expand our studies and caution us to avoid insularity and exclusion in the research projects we develop. Bergmann argues that theology is a “discursive and artistic reflection about the experiences of God in context, which takes place in verbal as well as in visual and other aesthetic modes of human expression.”39 If so, there is opportunity even in Christian theology to expand the religious, physical, and cultural contexts upon which scholars reflect. Research adopting a values-based approach often intends to not only enlighten readers, but also advance positive social change through architecture. This type of approach accords well with an ecological model of scholarship in religion and cities, which searches for the processes in urban contexts that shape religion and the ways in which religion shapes the cities they are located in. Theological or ethical research questions can be as varied as: what values and moral commitments from the religious traditions of this city could be applied to buildings and urban planning? How does a theology of creation support the adoption of “green” building techniques promoted in many cities? Can divergences in architectural styles used in religious architecture in urban and rural environments be traced to urban influences on religion? What might it mean to “resacralize” a city as it relates to public spaces and non-religious buildings? Bringing sacred influences to bear on the design of cities is not a new phenomenon, and so the study of these practices in the past alongside proposals to incorporate religion into current and future building practices merits scholarly attention. Mazumdar and Mazumdar, along with other scholars, have noted that the planning of ancient Eastern cities was influenced by cosmic models that were intended to promote harmony, order, and the maintenance of good over evil.40 Employing sacred order and geometry was not only an ancient Eastern practice, evident in the ancient cities of China, Japan, India, and Sri Lanka, but also a practice in pre-Hispanic Mesoamerican city-states.41 Geomancy, which is a descriptive term for practices of divination that read signs from the earth and its landscapes, guided the development of many Asian cities and is still used today, as evidenced by the longevity of feng shui and its emerging popularity in the West.42 Feng shui is not a religious practice, but it does represent a spatial practice informed by cosmology that informs building location, orientation, and the arrangement of architectural elements in relation to each other.There are, however, geomantic practices that developed autonomously within Confucianism,Taoism, and Buddhism.The desire to being ch’i or ki, the energy of life, into harmony with the constructed landscape is a similar theme among Asian methods of geomancy.43 The relevance of feng shui and other geomantic practices here are that they represent rich traditions—still in use—which their practitioners use to create built environments that they 77

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believe will promote harmonious living. These same traditions also guide practitioners to discern which buildings and settlements have been constructed in alignment with higher conceptions of the good.The idea upon which modern ethicists and scholars who discern and promote religious, spiritual, and ethical values in the built environment is similar. Especially given the current state of ecological degradation around the globe and the impact of climate change on human settlements and cities, it makes sense to use religious teachings and spiritual practices to promote alternatives to the consumerist mindset that pushes for newer, taller, and more flashy buildings that meet market demands and generate profit. Can our buildings also promote social solidarity in a time of political divisiveness and religious, ethnic, and racial pluralism? Values like sustainability, beauty, mutuality, and justice, which promote the consideration of social ties and connection to the environment can be fostered by faith communities to ultimately impact the design of their buildings and cities.44 As we have seen in the past, religious systems have changed throughout history and influenced the design of cities in which they grew. This same kind of religious agency is accessible today. At the very least, our study of religious values and spiritual principles in architecture and urban design might lead us to recognize beliefs about the sacredness of space that challenge contemporary ways of thinking.

Conclusion This chapter has presented a brief overview and typology of architectural analysis employed in the study or religion and cities.The body of this essay is not an exhaustive survey of approaches to the built environment and religion, but rather a framework for orienting scholars whose consideration of the built environment would enrich their study of urban ecologies. Several resources about architecture, religion, and spirituality are included in the bibliography below. The three approaches described in this paper help us to see meaning, symbols, and values within works of architecture, to look for spatial patterns throughout the built environment, and to develop ethical visions for the world we would like to occupy. The research questions and studies that I have offered are suggestive, not proscriptive. Scholars, urban planners, and religious practitioners are in an exciting moment in which the spatial turn in religious studies and theology has brought people from a variety of disciplinary backgrounds into conversations about architecture and the built environment.Their diverse experiences from varied religious, philosophical, and secular traditions create the possibility for an expansive surge of scholarship about the built environment in cities all around the world. Because of its interpretive nature, architectural analysis cannot presume to be an objective form of analysis even when it focuses on architectural objects.What buildings say is interpreted by the viewer and the visitor.What buildings mean is always determined in context—the time and place where it exists. Architectural analysis, then, needs to engage with the memories of a site and historical traditions informing a building type. Researchers attentive to the interactive dynamic between buildings and their contexts will consult the people who use the buildings and pass by them on the street. Ultimately, it is architecture’s engagement with community life that makes it fertile ground for the study of religion and cities.

Notes 1 Sanjoy Mazumdar and Shampa Mazumdar, “Planning, Design, and Religion: America’s Changing Urban Landscape,” Journal of Architectural and Planning Research 30, No. 3 (2013): p. 221, www.jstor.org/ stable/43031006. 2 “sacred, adj. and n.” OED (Oxford English Dictionary), www-oed-com.ezproxy.baylor.edu/view/Entry/ 169556?rskey=SToaKF&result=3&isAdvanced=false.

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Architectural analysis 3 Philip Sheldrake, The Spiritual City:Theology, Spirituality, and the Urban (Malden, MA:Wiley Blackwell, 2014), p. 130. 4 Studies of religion and material culture focus on objects, images, and spaces of devotion and the sensations and embodied practices that engage them. See David Morgan, ed., Religion and Material Culture: The Matter of Belief (New York: Routledge, 2009); and S. Brent Plate, ed., Religion,Art, and Visual Culture: A Cross-Cultural Reader, First Edn (New York: Palgrave, 2002). 5 Jay M. Price, Temples for a Modern God: Religious Architecture in Postwar America (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). 6 For more about photography and visual methods of research, see Roman Williams and Timothy Shortell’s “Eyes Upon the Street: Visual Social Scientific Approaches to Religion and the City.” Chapter 4, this volume. 7 Daria Pezzoli-Olgiati,“Places of Religious Diversity: Normative Challenges in Shaping Urban Space,” paper presented in the “Urban Migration and Religious Ethics” session at the American Academy of Religion Annual Meetings, Denver, Colorado, November 2018. As Katie Day notes in her chapter on methods (Chapter 2, this volume), the AAR’s Religion and Cities unit provided a venue to foster “robust and ongoing dialogue about the dynamic relationship between religions and their urban contexts” since its founding in 2007. Not all papers presented at AAR are later published, but the conversation generated around provocative paper topics and emergent methodologies inspires ongoing work in religion and cities. 8 Jeanne Halgren Kilde’s When Church Became Theatre is a fine example of this kind of analysis, which looks at shifts in evangelical Protestant architecture and connects them to changes in worship style and religious mission. Jeanne Halgren Kilde, When Church Became Theatre the Transformation of Evangelical Architecture and Worship in 19th-Century America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002). The following books are not written as academic scholarship, but they provide guides for interpreting and understanding architecture: Witold Rybczynski, How Architecture Works: A Humanist’s Toolkit (New York: Farrar, Strausm and Giroux, 2013); Richard Taylor, How to Read a Church:A Guide to Symbols and Images in Chuches and Cathedrals (Mahwah, NJ: Hidden Spring Books, 2005). 9 This is a chapter of his larger work.While the chapters are thematically connected, each can be read on its own. Murray A. Rae, Architecture and Theology:The Art of Place (Waco,TX: Baylor University Press, 2017), pp. 237–56. 10 Ibid., p. 237. 11 Often, the shift from more public areas to more private ones corresponds to the presence of objects and functions that are considered sacred and therefore in need of protection. 12 Several chapters in this volume refer to Robert Orsi’s Madonna of 115th Street, a modern classic in American religious studies, which interprets a street festival centering on an image of the Virgin Mary formally identified as Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Orsi’s book is not an architectural study, but its focus on Our Lady of Mount Carmel as an object of devotion and emblem for working-class Italian immigrants in East Harlem, New York highlights the significance of an architectural element. Robert A. Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street: Faith and Community in Italian Harlem, 1880–1950 (New Haven, CT:Yale University Press, 1985). 13 Sanjoy Mazumdar and Shampa Mazumdar, “Intergroup Social Relations and Architecture:Vernacular Architecture and Issues of Status, Power, and Conflict,” Environment and Behavior 29, No. 3 (1997), https://doi.org/10.1177/001391659702900304. 14 Heather R.White,“‘This Disco Used to be a Cute Cathedral’: Queer Genealogies of Secularism at the Limelight Nightclub,” paper presented in the Religion and Cities Session at the American Academy of Religion Annual Meetings, Boston, Massachusetts, November 2017. 15 Mazumdar and Mazumdar noted this in their study of Zoroastrian architecture. Mazumdar and Mazumdar,“Intergroup Social Relations and Architecture:Vernacular Architecture and Issues of Status, Power, and Conflict.” In note 8, they write, Although it is easy, through photographs, to document the existence of an element, it is difficult to document the absence of an element in the same way. The lack of bridge-houses can be notes in Zoroastrian areas, especially when compared to Islamic areas by comparing different photographs. 16 See also Katie Day,“Urban Space and Religion in the United States” in Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Religion. Dylan White, ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017).

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Elise M. Edwards 17 Placemaking elements, a term I have coined here, refers to features that make a place special or worth visiting.These might be grand attractions or simple walking paths. Placemaking simply refers to “the act of creating and maintaining places.” Lynda H. Schneekloth and Robert G. Shibley, “Implacing Architecture into the Practice of Placemaking,” Journal of Architectural Education 53, No. 3 (February 2000): p. 132. 18 Andrés Duany, Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk, and Jeff Speck, Suburban Nation: The Rise of Sprawl and the Decline of the American Dream,Tenth Anniversary Edn (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010). 19 “What is New Urbanism?,” Congress for the New Urbanism, www.cnu.org/resources/what-newurbanism. 20 Léon Krier, The Architecture of Community, eds, Dhiru A.Thadani and Peter J. Hetzel (Washington, DC: Island Press, 2009), p. 29. 21 Although it does not reference New Urbanism, Samantha Cavanagh’s chapter in this volume makes a similar move regarding Smart Urbanism. Cavanagh employs theological and ethical language to criticize particular conceptions of city life that Smart Urbanists defend. See Chapter 11, this volume. 22 Philip Bess, “Beyond Irony: Biblical Religion and Architectural Renewal,” in: Till We Have Built Jerusalem:Architecture, Urbanism, and the Sacred, ed., Peter Augustine Lawler (Wilmington, DE: ISI Books, 2006), p. 81. 23 Ibid., p. 14. 24 For a compelling account of Rouse’s religious motivations and a resident’s reflections on the interfaith centers decades after Columbia’s construction, see Len Lazarick’s “Columbia at 50, Part 8: Religion: Interfaith Centers Sought to Bring Congregations Together.” The Maryland Reporter, 2017. Accessed July 1, 2020, https://marylandreporter.com/2017/02/13/columbia-at-50-part-8-religion-interfaithcenters-sought-to-bring-congregations-together/. 25 Bess, Till We Have Built Jerusalem, p. 15. 26 Eric O. Jacobsen, Sidewalks in the Kingdom: New Urbanism and the Christian Faith (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2003), p. 16. Jacobsen decries elitism and wealth associated with the New Urbanist movement. On p. 160, he writes, “If New Urbanism is simply by elites and for elites, then it is not a cause worth fighting for, and it may even be morally questionable to participate in its ends.” 27 Eric O. Jacobsen, The Space Between: A Christian Engagement with the Built Environment, eds, William A Dyrness and Robert K. Johnston (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2012), p. 26. 28 Sigurd Bergmann,“Preface,” in Architecture,Aesth/Ethics and Religion, ed., Sigurd Bergmann (Frankfurt: IKO—Verlag fur Interculturelle Kommunikation, 2005), p. 9. 29 T.J. Gorringe, A Theology of the Built Environment: Justice, Empowerment, Redemption (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). 30 Sigurd Bergmann, ed., Theology in Built Environments: Exploring Religion, Architecture, and Design (New Brunswick, NJ:Transaction Publishers, 2009). 31 Philip Sheldrake, Spaces for the Sacred: Place, Memory, and Identity (Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001). 32 Jacobsen, The Space Between. 33 Rae, Architecture and Theology. 34 Elise M. Edwards,“‘Let’s Imagine Something Different’: Spiritual Principles in Contemporary African American Justice Movements and Their Implications for the Built Environment,” Religions 8, No. 12 (November 23, 2017), https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.3390/rel8120256; www.mdpi.com/20771444/8/12/256. 35 Sheldrake, The Spiritual City. 36 Rae, Architecture and Theology, p. 5. 37 John W. De Gruchy, Christianity, Art and Transformation: Theological Aesthetics in the Struggle for Justice (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), p. 174. 38 This inclusive nature of religion and cities scholarship was highlighted in Katie Day’s chapter in this volume, Chapter 2,“Studying Religion and Cities: Emergent Meanings and Methodologies.” 39 Sigurd Bergmann, Religion, Space, and the Environment (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 2014), p. 50. 40 Mazumdar and Mazumdar, “Planning, Design, and Religion: America’s Changing Urban Landscape,” p. 222. 41 Ibid. Mazumdar and Mazumbar have an extensive bibliography which includes references from numerous scholars regarding Hindu cosmology in architecture, urban planning, and temple cities in India; cosmological models in Sinhalese Buddhist cities in Sri Lanka; and design influenced by Chinese

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Architectural analysis cosmologies in feng shui. Sigurd Bergmann, too, explores sacred geographies and geomancy in various contexts, such as Mayan cities and Buddhist temples and monasteries in Japan and Korea. Bergmann, Religion, Space, and the Environment. 42 Feng shui’s origins date back to the Han Dynasty (206 bce–220 ce) in China. Bergmann, Religion, Space, and the Environment, p. 138. 43 Ibid., p. 138. 44 Philip Sheldrake has an entire chapter in The Spiritual City dedicated to urban virtues. It presents numerous virtues he deems as critical for the twenty-first century, drawn from the work of theologians, philosophers, and architects.The virtues include mutuality, justice (providing social and economic equity and accessibility), beauty, creativity, and numerous others. Sheldrake, The Spiritual City, pp. 179–99.

Bibliography Bergmann, Sigurd, ed. Architecture, Aesth/Ethics and Religion (Frankfurt: IKO-Verlag fur Interculturelle Kommunikation, 2005). ———. Religion, Space, and the Environment (New Brunswick, NJ:Transaction Publishing, 2014). ———, ed. Theology in Built Environments: Exploring Religion,Architecture, and Design (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishing, 2009). Bess, Philip. Till We Have Built Jerusalem: Architecture, Urbanism, and the Sacred, ed., Peter Augustine Lawler (Wilmington, DE: ISI Books, 2006). Day, Katie. Faith on the Avenue: Religion on a City Street (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014). ———.“Space and Urban Religion.” In Oxford Encyclopedia of Religion in America, ed., Dylan White (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017). De Gruchy, John W. Christianity, Art and Transformation: Theological Aesthetics in the Struggle for Justice (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001). Duany, Andrés, Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk, and Jeff Speck. Suburban Nation:The Rise of Sprawl and the Decline of the American Dream, ed.,Tenth Anniversary (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010). Edwards, Elise M. “‘Let’s Imagine Something Different’: Spiritual Principles in Contemporary African American Justice Movements and Their Implications for the Built Environment.” Religions 8, No. 12 (November 23, 2017), https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.3390/rel8120256; www.mdpi. com/2077-1444/8/12/256. Gorringe, T.J. A Theology of the Built Environment: Justice, Empowerment, Redemption (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). Jacobsen, Eric O. Sidewalks in the Kingdom: New Urbanism and the Christian Faith (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2003). ———. The Space Between:A Christian Engagement with the Built Environment Cultural Exegesis, eds, William A Dyrness and Robert K. Johnston (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2012). Kilde, Jeanne Halgren. When Church Became Theatre:The Transformation of Evangelical Architecture and Worship in 19th-Century America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002). Krier, Léon. The Architecture of Community, eds, Dhiru A. Thadani and Peter J. Hetzel (Washington, DC: Island Press, 2009). Lazarick, Len. Columbia at 50:A Memoir of a City (St. Petersburg, FL: Booklocker.com Inc., 2017). Mazumdar, Sanjoy and Shampa Mazumdar. “Intergroup Social Relations and Architecture: Vernacular Architecture and Issues of Status, Power, and Conflict.” Environment and Behavior 29, No. 3 (1997): pp. 374–421. doi.org/10.1177/001391659702900304. ———.“Planning, Design, and Religion:America's Changing Urban Landscape.” Journal of Architectural and Planning Research 30, No. 3 (2013): pp. 221–43, www.jstor.org/stable/43031006. Morgan, David, ed., Religion and Material Culture:The Matter of Belief (New York: Routledge, 2009). Numrich, Paul D. and Elfriede Wedam. Religion and Community in the New Urban America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015). Orsi, Robert A. The Madonna of 115th Street: Faith and Community in Italian Harlem, 1880–1950 (New Haven, CT:Yale University Press, 1985). Pezzoli-Olgiati, Daria. “Places of Religious Diversity: Normative Challenges in Shaping Urban Space.” Paper presented in the “Urban Migration and Religious Ethics” Session at the American Academy of Religion Annual Meetings, Denver, CO, November 2018.

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Elise M. Edwards Plate, S. Brent, ed., Religion, Art, and Visual Culture: A Cross-Cultural Reader. First Edn (New York: Palgrave, 2002). Price, Jay M. Temples for a Modern God: Religious Architecture in Postwar America (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). Rae, Murray A. Architecture and Theology:The Art of Place (Waco,TX: Baylor University Press, 2017). Roth, Leland M. and Amanda C. Roth Clark. Understanding Architecture: Its Elements, History, and Meaning. Third Edn (New York: Routledge, 2018). Rybczynski, Witold. How Architecture Works: A Humanist’s Toolkit (New York: Farrar, Strausm and Giroux, 2013). Schneekloth, Lynda H. and Robert G. Shibley.“Implacing Architecture into the Practice of Placemaking.” Journal of Architectural Education 53, No. 3 (2000): pp. 130–40. Sheldrake, Philip. Spaces for the Sacred: Place, Memory, and Identity (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001). ———. The Spiritual City:Theology, Spirituality, and the Urban (Malden, MA:Wiley Blackwell, 2014). Soja, Edward W. Seeking Spatial Justice (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2010). Taylor, Richard. How to Read a Church: A Guide to Symbols and Images in Chuches and Cathedrals (Mahwah, NJ: Hidden Spring Books, 2005). “What Is New Urbanism?” Congress for the New Urbanism, www.cnu.org/resources/what-new-urbanism. White, Heather R. “‘This Disco Used to be a Cute Cathedral’: Queer Genealogies of Secularism at the Limelight Nightclub.” Paper presented in the “Religion and Cities” Session at the American Academy of Religion Annual Meetings, Boston, MA, November 2017.

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6 USING GEOGRAPHIC INFORMATION SYSTEMS (GIS) Mapping jhandis in Little Guyana Rupa Pillai

Introduction Flags are a common sight in most neighborhoods in New York City. The stars and stripes are easily recognizable as the American flag, flying proudly for national holidays—if not always.And other flags, such as the red, black, and white of Trinidad and Tobago, might not be identifiable by the casual observer, but are understood to be national flags. Walking the neighborhoods in Queens offers the opportunity to observe these visual signs of patriotism as evidence of the growing diversity of this borough. However, not all flags in these neighborhoods are recognized or understood. In certain neighborhoods in South Queens, triangular flags of different colors fly atop bamboo poles in the front yards of houses (see Figure 6.1). Older residents of these neighborhoods, mostly Italian Americans, do not know what these flags signify. Richard, an Italian American man in his early 60s who was born, raised, and works in South Queens, points the flags out as evidence of the shifting character of the space.1 As a local historian knowledgeable of the area’s birth as a planned community in the mid-nineteenth century, he is less familiar with the contemporary moment.2 But, aware of recent demographic shifts, he offers an educated guess during our interview,“It is a Guyanese thing, right?”3 Richard’s guess is partially correct. Many South Queens residents with a history of migration from the Caribbean nation of Guyana fly these flags in their front yards, but their meaning is not limited to their nationality. The flags communicate the homeowner’s religion and ethnicity. Known as jhandis, these triangular flags are raised following Hindu rituals.This Hindu practice, originating in the Indian subcontinent, was transported to the Caribbean, particularly the nations of Guyana, Trinidad and Tobago, and Suriname, by Indian indentured laborers in the late nineteenth century and then to parts of the United States by their descendants, IndoCaribbeans, starting in the 1960s. As symbols of Caribbean Hinduism, these triangular flags of different colors are found in front of temples, houses, and stores in many boroughs in New York City.While jhandis are visual proclamations of faith, their appearance in the landscape of the city illustrates how Indo-Caribbeans are simultaneously altering the ethnic character of neighborhoods, making Hindu places, and claiming belonging in the city.

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Figure 6.1 Jhandis with an American Flag in Little Guyana, Queens, New York. Source: Photo by author

To examine such place-making efforts, I developed a small mapping project of jhandis in parts of Little Guyana, the ethnic enclave in South Queens where most Indo-Caribbeans reside and where their respective temples are located. As I will demonstrate, the process of mapping jhandis with Geographic Information System (GIS) applications offers the opportunity to examine the relationship between religion and cities in more depth. In particular, I will discuss how I move from a visual observation of the phenomenon to develop a dataset of spatial data that could be used to locate Indo-Caribbeans and Caribbean Hindus in New York City, both populations invisible in the US Census and the American Community Survey.The resulting map offers the possibility of locating hidden populations and visualizing how a religious practice transforms the city.

More than a flag Flying jhandis is a part of Hindu practice.Through ritual worship, triangular pieces of cloth are consecrated by Hindu priests, transforming them into sacred objects of worship on a par with murtis, statues or images of Hindu deities. Jhandis come in many colors, each representing a particular deity. Following the performance of a puja (ritual) or a prayer ceremony at a temple or 84

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a home, a devotee will receive these flags which they will then raise in their properties as visual proclamations of their devotion.The jhandis are flown on top of bamboo poles, usually placed at the northeast corner of the property.4 Unlike prasad, food distributed to devotees following worship, a jhandi is given only to the devotee(s) who sponsors rituals, often performed to commemorate an important life event (i.e., birth of child, starting college, etc.) or to demonstrate their continued devotion to a particular deity or Hinduism in general. Depending upon the intention of the ritual, the jhandis one receives will vary. For instance, a devotee performing a puja to honor Lord Hanuman will receive a red jhandi to fly, while someone praying to Mother Lakshmi would receive a pink jhandi.Also, the number of jhandis received following a puja, again depending upon the purpose of the ritual, varies. While jhandis are part of Hindu practices globally, the practice occupies a key role in the Caribbean as a reminder not only of the presence of Hindus, but also of the presence of Indians in the region.5 In fact, as scholar Grace Aneiza Ali eloquently points out,“they serve as a sobering reminder of how Hinduism in Guyana, a former British colony, is historically linked to the colonial desire for the cheap labor of Indian bodies, and why it evolved as a dominant spiritual practice.”6 Following the abolition of slavery in the British Empire in 1833 colonial planters imported Indians as indentured laborers from 1838 to 1917 to the British West Indies.7 During this period, over 300,000 Indians migrated to what is today’s Trinidad and Guyana.8 As a new, replacement labor force, Indians were situated within British sugar colonies in competition with, and in isolation from, their African counterparts, a colonial tactic that divided these communities along racial and religious lines.9 Hindu traditions transported with these individuals functioned not only as a way of continuing their faith, but also as a means of forming an Indian community and asserting an Indian ethnic identity in migration.10 By the 1870s, when Indians could own land, jhandis became a key practice of proclaiming Hinduness and Indianness. Becoming ubiquitous upon the Guyanese landscape, jhandis spatially asserted Hindu and Indian social belonging, a spatial tactic pursued in the North American landscape as well.11 In February 2015, HuffPost published an article lauding the religiosity, cultural vibrancy, and sheer size of the Indo-Caribbean community in North America.12 Indo-Caribbean, an emerging political identity in parts of the United States and Canada, encompasses individuals of Indian descendant who emigrated from the Caribbean nations of Guyana, Trinidad and Tobago, and Suriname. Guyanese represent the majority of the almost 300,000 Indo-Caribbeans living in North America.13 Compelled to abandon their nation to escape ethnic strife and take advantage of the economic opportunities, the largest Guyanese community resides in New York City. In fact, a 2013 report published by the Department of Planning of the New York City government states Guyanese are now the second largest immigrant community in Queens, the fifth largest overall in New York City.14 The neighborhoods of Richmond Hill, South Richmond Hill, Ozone Park, and South Ozone Park, where most Guyanese live in Queens, is now known as Little Guyana. Although the racial and religious breakdown of the almost 140,000 Guyanese reported to live in the city is ambiguous, a visit to Little Guyana illustrates the centrality of Hinduism to a substantial part of the Guyanese and Indo-Caribbean community.15 With Hindu bhajans (religious songs) blaring from backyards, cars, and storefronts, Hinduism permeates the public sphere of many neighborhoods where Indo-Caribbean individuals reside, shop, and worship. Even the communal space of the street is frequently rendered Hindu as Indo-Caribbean Hindus affectionately greet each other with kisses on the check after uttering “Sita Ram.”While such everyday encounters illustrate how Indo-Caribbean Hindus momentarily redefine spaces as Hindu, other practices, such as the raising of jhandis, alters the space of Queens beyond the ephemeral to produce places that become Hindu and Indo-Caribbean in character.16 In particular, the 85

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presence of jhandis in these neighborhoods contributes to the ethnic and religious transformation of neighborhoods into Little Guyana. To appreciate the significance of the raising of jhandis, it is necessary to understand the shifting racial and ethnic makeup of these neighborhoods of South Queens. Richmond Hill originally developed as a planned community in 1868 by Albon Platt Man and Edward Richmond. Their vision was to create a retreat from the city for the more affluent residents of Manhattan.17 Until the 1940s, Richmond Hill was just that, but, after World War II, the ethnic, racial, and class makeup of the community changed as Irish and Italian middle-class families moved in when a ceramics factory started operating in the area. The village community of Richmond Hill that was a retreat for the rich became the neighborhoods of Richmond Hill, Kew Gardens, Woodhaven, and Ozone Park. These neighborhoods of South Queens were situated almost equidistant from the city’s two main airports and a half an hour’s ride to midtown Manhattan on the Long Island Rail Road.Also, they were highly desired for their quietness and safety. However, this area’s reputation for safety disappeared after the infamous stabbing and murder of Kitty Genovese, a 28-year-old Italian American woman, in 1964.18 As feminist media scholar Carrie A. Rentschler notes, the murder also marked a time of changing racial demographics in the surrounding neighborhoods and its location as a desirable commuter base, which had long been a bastion of White residency surrounded by far more racially mixed neighborhoods in Queens.19 By the late 1980s or early 1990s these Irish and Italian families were replaced by the growing Guyanese/Indo-Caribbean, Indian, Bangladeshi, and Dominican communities.20 Many Guyanese moved from neighborhoods in Brooklyn and the Bronx to South Queens for its relative safety, better schools, and affordable housing.21 Although non-Indo-Caribbean neighbors may not know the significance of jhandis, they do recognize them as symbols of the community.Adam, a middle-aged resident of the community with Polish heritage indicates as much when he discussed jhandis with me: “It is a Guyanese thing. Guyanese love those flags. I've never understood culturally what it is about. Maybe it is a Hindu thing?”22 While Adam is ignorant of the multiple meanings of jhandis, communicating not only religious and ethnic identity, but also signaling history and ultimately pride in IndoCaribbean past, ethnicity, and religion, he clearly understands that the flags appear in front of Guyanese or Indo-Caribbean houses. Jhandis are more than flags. They are an established Hindu practice that has shifted meaning over time through migration to different contexts.While the history of migration and the politics of place inform how jhandis are rendered legible, how might mapping jhandis open up new ways of thinking spatially through jhandis? What else might jhandis communicate about this community, especially in its relationships with the city? How might mapping jhandis offer opportunities to think beyond the contestations of meaning to learn more about how this community is situated religiously and ethnically within the physical and social landscape of New York City?

Mapping jhandis A Geographic Information System, or GIS, is a set of tools that captures, stores, and analyzes spatial information. Through GIS, researchers may pursue analysis to examine the relationship between people and places or to visualize change over time.While proprietary software such as 86

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ArcGIS requires the expense of a license and formal training to acquire the technical skills to create maps and execute spatial analysis, newer GIS applications have simplified the process and are available for free.Through GIS applications such as ESRI Story Maps, Google My Maps, and QGIS, beginner users may craft their own maps and execute basic spatial analysis.While maps produced through free GIS applications may not have sleek design options or the capabilities for complex spatial analysis, such applications are an ideal choice for a researcher new to building maps and spatial analysis. Using Geographic Information System (GIS) applications, particularly Google My Maps and QGIS, to build a map of jhandis located in Little Guyana, I set out to visually represent the religious and ethnic transformation of neighborhoods in Queens through jhandis. While residents of the area observed the increased frequency of jhandis, this phenomenon has not been documented. Based on my knowledge of the practice, I decided to build a map that shows where in neighborhoods in South Queens jhandis are installed to determine how pervasive the practice is in this context. Additionally, I thought showing how many jhandis and what colors of jhandis were present would be useful.According to conventions, the power of the divinity present in jhandis needs to be renewed annually. But, with each renewal, a new jhandi is erected, while previous ones must remain as planted. Because of this convention, theoretically one could determine how long an individual has resided in a place by counting the jhandis. Colors of jhandis could also help determine the years of residency. Often devotees receive a set of jhandis of different colors to plant following a ritual. The repetition of a set of colors could communicate how many pujas have been performed while residing at a property, assuming the same pujas are performed annually as expected.23 Further, this map could render visible a religious and ethnic community hidden within existing data collected by government agencies.As previously discussed, both the US Census and the American Community Survey do not collect information about the religious identities of the American population nor capture populations who do not fit within official identity categories. Because flying jhandis appears to be a practice exclusively performed by Indo-Caribbean Hindus, a map of jhandis could illustrate where Indo-Caribbean Hindus live in the city. In the summer of 2019, I started data collection to create a map that shows the location of jhandis in Little Guyana. Initial data collection occurred in July 2019 and involved me walking through the neighborhood of South Richmond Hill to find jhandis visible from the public sidewalk. When jhandis were found, I recorded the street address of the house where the jhandis were installed on the property, and the number and color of the jhandis. Although a productive approach to data collection, the scale of the project proved too large to continue in this manner, especially as I was the sole data collector with limited time to spend in the field. Another approach of data collection through Google Maps was designed. Utilizing the Street View feature in Google Maps, I systematically viewed images from the neighborhoods of Richmond Hill and South Richmond Hill. For properties where jhandis were visible, I recorded the street address of the property (including the longitude and latitude), which neighborhood it was in, the number of jhandis (both in total and by color), the location of the jhandi on the property, and issues in the images found through street view that impaired my data collection. Data was entered into an MS Excel spreadsheet.Through this method I identified 364 properties with over 2,000 jhandis installed on them.The majority of these properties were houses with the exception to two apartment buildings and three Hindu temples. While this approach proved faster, it also proved imperfect, specifically in terms of the images available. The Street View images accessible for Richmond Hill and South Richmond Hill through Google Maps where primarily taken in June and August 2018. However, certain blocks 87

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only had older images available. Through this process I encountered images from September 2011, October 2013, and September 2007. Because of the discrepancy of time, my data is inaccurate since properties with jhandis may have more jhandis, new properties with jhandis may have emerged, or jhandis may have been removed from properties because of new ownership. Also, certain blocks have no images available, which prevents the collection of any data in those areas where there may be more properties with jhandis. Besides the inability to access images taken around the same time, the images themselves presented issues in accurately collecting data. Plants, cars, and fences are a few examples of obstructions that prevented clear views of houses.The angles of the image, as well as the lighting conditions due to the sun being either too bright or dim, impacted my ability to count the number of jhandis and to identify what colors they were. Further, the wear and tear of flying jhandis presented an additional challenge.The color of jhandis faded over time, resulting in difficulty in determining when a jhandi was red, pink, saffron, or peach. Also, some properties had tattered jhandis or just bamboo poles suggesting jhandis might have been atop them previously. Because of these difficulties, the number of jhandis are inaccurate and cannot be used to determine the years of residency. Despite these limitations, the database created from this data collection was uploaded to Google My Maps to create a simple map of the location of properties with jhandis erected in the neighborhoods of Richmond Hill and South Richmond Hill.This initial map visually captures the pervasiveness of jhandis in these neighborhoods (see Figure 6.2).Within the small perimeter of study, it is immediately apparent which properties fly jhandis (mostly residential houses). Each

Figure 6.2 Map of jhandis in Richmond Hill and South Richmond Hill, Queens, New York. Source: Map data © 2020 Google

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pin represents a house with at least one jhandi, which by extension represents a house with at least one individual who is Hindu and Indo-Caribbean. While Google My Maps offers a straightforward way to build a map, the ability to move beyond representing the location and frequency of jhandis is not available. The tools available in this GIS application offer the ability to add additional layers and data points, such as places of worship, schools, subway stations, or police stations, and allows one to draw lines between markers. However, in order to design more complex maps to explore the interactions of jhandis with the spaces of these neighborhoods, using another GIS application, such as QGIS, proves more suitable. Like Google My Maps, QGIS is a GIS application that is available for free to download to one’s desktop computer. This application has many features comparable to ArcGIS with new features and plug-ins added to streamline finding base maps and importing data.Through these features, one may import many data types, both geographic and non-geographic, to represent in a map and to examine in relationships to each other and the geography. Because of the free access and the constant innovation to the application, QGIS may occasionally freeze and some features may not work properly. Restarting the application generally solves most issues. QGIS requires considerably more training than Google My Maps to build a map and to best utilize the features.The user needs to think about what data to import, to properly prepare this data before importing, and to make informed decisions about how to build a map and perform analysis. While this process also applies to building a map in Google My Maps, the process is more demanding and precise for QGIS. For instance, importing my data for the location of jhandis would not be possible without information about the longitude and latitude for each property.And when I import my data, I need to make more selections in the interface to ensure the application properly processes the information to visualize it on a map.While the process is initially intimidating, QGIS offers easily accessible training manuals and exercises to familiarize the new user to the interface and language of GIS in general and QGIS specifically.Also, one can find additional training exercises online to learn this application. Such training materials offer insights into how to best prepare the data for importing as well as what features and approaches to map-building will effectively answer questions or produce new spatial data. Reviewing and completing such materials is essential before building a map in QGIS, if not before even contemplating using the application. While QGIS is an impressive application that could provide new avenues of thinking through the jhandis to examine the relationship between Indo-Caribbean Hindus and Queens, at this time my mapping project cannot develop beyond the map produced in Google My Maps. With any GIS application, the possibilities of a map are intertwined with one’s data. The data compiled through Google Maps offers a glimpse into how many residents in Richmond Hill and South Richmond Hill are probably Hindu and Indo-Caribbean, but the inconsistency in the dates of the accessible images limits my ability to use existing datasets to learn more about how the city serves this community, or what occupational and educational opportunities might be possible for it. To illustrate the limits of my data, consider my attempt to learn more about who these residents may be by using existing census data. The American Fact Finder website of the US Census Bureau offers the researcher a wealth of information. As an online repository of the various surveys and censuses the US Census Bureau conducts each year, this site provides access to datasets that capture the demographic information of a city, the employment and educational opportunities of a census block, and even the housing characteristics of a county. The data on housing characteristics could provide insights into when a resident moved into a property and whether a household owned a vehicle. Creating a map with this housing characteristics 89

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data and the jhandis data could reveal when this religious practice began in these neighborhoods, and when the area shifted from Italian American to Little Guyana, and, by extension, became a Caribbean Hindu neighborhood. Also, this data could capture how household access to transportation might inform how Hindu temples establish themselves within the landscape of Queens. Unfortunately, discrepancies between the years of when the data was collected would prevent effective analysis. The household characteristic data is available for 2000, while the majority of my data is based upon images from 2018.The near 20-year difference would not result in meaningful conclusions.

Reflections on mapping jhandis Although my mapping project failed to move beyond creating a map that illustrates the locations and frequency of a religious practice, the process offers a few key insights in how to use GIS in the future for examining the relationships between religions and the city. While the ability to build maps is accessible to more researchers of any skills and means, data will always shape the analytical potentials of a map. One can only map the data one has access to, and the quality of the data determines what types of spatial analysis are feasible.This lesson informs not only the data that researchers collect on their own, but also the modification of existing datasets. Also, being familiar with the chosen GIS application is necessary prior to undertaking a mapping project. The peculiarities of a GIS application inform what data can be visualized in a map as well as what format the data should be collected in order to be imported and manipulated.And finally, understanding what questions can be asked and answered through maps is critical not only in determining what data is required, but also whether mapping is a productive method to pursue. Existing digital humanities projects, such as The Polis Center’s Digital Atlas of American Religions at Indiana University–Purdue University Indianapolis and Harvard University’s Pluralism Project, illustrate the potentials of incorporating GIS components and what questions are answerable through a map.The Digital Atlas of American Religions uses GIS to develop an interactive map to explore their collection of data, which includes historical data of 600 religious denominations in the United States since 1890, the religious beliefs and practices on state and county level, and relevant data from the US Census.24 Through this tool, the user can examine American religious history from a national to a local level over time through visualizations.The Pluralism Project uses GIS to create a map of religious centers in the greater Boston area, which captures the religious and ethnic diversity of Boston.25 The website also features a map of other mapping projects pursued in the United States that showcases how GIS can be used to study religious and ethnic diversity, to examine the relationship between religion and space over time, and to document the existence and history of religious communities.Although these projects showcase how scholars might utilize GIS, they also suggest how religious leaders, community leaders, or local government agencies might benefit from similar mapping projects. Creating maps could demonstrate how certain religious communities are underserved or overpoliced, offering religious and community leaders persuasive visualizations to aid in their efforts to secure resources. In my study of jhandis, understanding the limits and possibilities of my chosen GIS applications, Google My Maps and QGIS, shaped the data I collected about jhandis. Knowing before collecting my data that collecting the longitude and latitude for jhandis locations was required to use QGIS streamlined data collection and ensured my jhandi data was properly prepared to be visualized in both applications. However, reflecting back upon the process, I realize reviewing the available datasets I could integrate into a map prior to collecting data would be beneficial, especially in informing what kinds of data would be helpful in compiling a dataset. Because my inability to move forward in creating additional maps is ultimately linked to the inconsistent 90

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time frames of the images on Google Maps, recording information about the date of the images would enable future spatial analysis.This additional information would enable me to restrict my jhandi dataset to a specific period to better examine the relationship with more recent datasets available from federal and local government agencies. But besides familiarizing oneself with existing data, as well as the process and possibilities of a GIS application, one should also consider the ethics of such a project. Consider an event that happened in Little Guyana in 2015. In the early hours of the day following Thanksgiving, an unidentified man set fire to 40 jhandis in front of the house of a Guyanese family.The fire was quickly extinguished, and no one was hurt. Unfortunately, the culprit still evades the authorities. The incident shocked not only the family but the community at large, since, as a community organizer explained to the local press,“this crime went to the heart of my identity as an IndoCaribbean Hindu.” Because of this assumed understanding of jhandis as an ethnic symbol in the larger public, local officials are investigating this incident as a hate crime. Although the vandal’s intention remains unknown, this incident illustrates questions all researchers should ask before creating and publishing maps related to religious and ethnic groups in the United States. In particular, one has the responsibility to think about what dangers such a map could expose a community to and whether the benefits of a map warrant such risks.While my map captures the pervasiveness of raising jhandis in Richmond Hill and South Richmond Hill, it also illustrates the locations of Guyanese, Indo-Caribbean, and Hindu individuals. This information may be beneficial for the community’s efforts in rendering themselves visible to the state to secure funding and other resources, but it may expose these individuals to potential hate crimes, such as jhandis being burned, if published. With hate crimes perpetrated against non-Christian individuals and properties on the rise in the United States, maps illustrating the residential locations of non-Christian individuals and communities should be created only for limited audiences to protect such communities.26

Notes 1 Pseudonyms are used to protect the privacy of the individuals who graciously participated in this research.These individuals were interviewed in New York City between 2010 and 2016. 2 Carl Ballenas and Nancy Cataldi, Richmond Hill (Dover:Arcadia Publishing, 2002). 3 Richard. Interview by Rupa Pillai. Digital Recording. New York City.August 11, 2015. 4 Indrani Rampersad, “Hinduism in the Caribbean,” in Contemporary Hinduism, ed., P. Pratap Kumar (Durham:Acumen Publishing, 2013), p. 57. 5 Selwyn D. Ryan, The Jhandi and the Cross:The Clash of Cultures in Post-Creole Trinidad and Tobago (St. Augustine:The University of the West Indies Press, 1999), p. x. 6 Grace Aneiza Ali, “Rituals, Remembrance, Rupture, and Repair: The Jhandi Flag in Contemporary Guyanese Art,” Asian Diasporic Visual Cultures and the Americas 5, No. 1–2 (2019), p. 195. 7 Madhavi Kale. Fragments of Empire: Capital, Slavery, and Indian Indentured Labor Migration in the British Caribbean (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1998). 8 Steven Vertovec, Hindu Trinidad: Religion, Ethnicity and Socio-Economic Change (London: Macmillan Caribbean, 1992). 9 Lomarsh Roopnarine, Indo-Caribbean Indenture: Resistance and Accommodation, 1838–1920 (Kingston: University of the West Indies, 2007). 10 Alexander Rocklin, The Regulation of Religion and the Making of Hinduism in Colonial Trinidad (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2019). 11 Rampersad,“Hinduism in the Caribbean,” p. 58. 12 Murali Balaji, “The Hindus of the Caribbean: An Appreciation.” HuffPost (blog), February 13, 2015, www.huffpost.com/entry/the-hindus-of-the-caribbe_b_6680036. 13 Indo-Caribbean Alliance, Inc., “Population Analysis of Guyanese and Trinidadians in NYC.” IndoCaribbean Alliance, Inc. February 3, 2014, www.indocaribbean.org/1/post/2014/02/populationanalysis-of-guyanese-and trinidadians-in-nyc.html (accessed November 11, 2019).

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Rupa Pillai 14 Arun Peter Lobo and Joseph J. Salvo, The Newest New Yorkers: Characteristics of the City’s Foreign-Born Population (New York: Population Division of the New York City Department of City Planning, 2013). 15 Most Guyanese living in the United States are of Indian and African descent. Guyanese also include individuals of Chinese, Portuguese, and Amerindian descent. Hinduism is the second largest religion in Guyana following Christianity. Indo-Caribbeans primarily practice Hinduism, but there are IndoCaribbeans who are Christians and Muslims as well as Afro-Caribbeans who practice Hinduism. 16 Kim Knott,“From Locality to Location and Back Again: A Spatial Journey in the Study of Religion,” Religion 39, No. 2 (2009). 17 Ballenas and Cataldi, Richmond Hill. 18 In the early hours of March 12, 1964, Kitty Genovese was stabbed by South Ozone Park resident Winston Moseley over a period of 33 minutes. Genovese, a bar manager in Jamaica, was returning to her apartment in Kew Gardens when Moseley attacked her two times. Despite hearing her cries for help, 38 neighbors failed to call the police or come to her aid, preferring not to be involved. Their refusal to help contributed to Genovese’s murder and became known as the bystander effect.The episode altered the reputation of the neighborhood and could have contributed to next shift of neighborhood’s ethnic makeup. For more information on this incident, see Cook 2014. 19 Carrie A. Rentschler,“An Urban Physiognomy of the 1964 Kitty Genovese Murder,” Space and Culture, 14, No. 3 (2011), p. 321. 20 According to the 2018 American Community Survey Single Year Estimates, the overall demographic breakdown of Richmond Hill is 19% white, 25 % Asian, and 42% Hispanic while South Ozone Park is 21% white, 27% Asian, and 23% Hispanic.According to the 2013 Newest New Yorker Report, Richmond Hill and South Ozone Park are “the biggest immigrant neighborhoods in Southwest Queens and among the largest in all of Queens” (58). Guyanese are largest foreign-born populations followed by Indians and Trinidadians. Individuals born in Bangladesh, Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Mexico, and Columbia also live in these neighborhoods. Besides Hinduism, these neighborhoods are home to the largest Sikh community in New York City as well as sizeable Muslim, Pentecostal, and Catholic communities. 21 Many Guyanese I interviewed ended up in Richmond Hill, Ozone Park, or South Ozone Park because the prices of houses were affordable, and the neighborhoods had less crime. 22 Adam. Interview by Rupa Pillai. Digital Recording. New York City.August 1, 2015. 23 Although the expectation is for pujas to be performed annually, in practice, it does not always occur in New York City. Many Indo-Caribbean Hindus do not have the time or money to do so.The expense of living in New York City, as well as the expectation to send money home to Guyana, limits one’s disposable income.Also, with many Indo-Caribbean Hindus working two jobs, the time to go to temple or to host a prayer ceremony at home is not available. 24 The Polis Center, Digital Atlas of American Religion, https://religionatlas.org/ (accessed May 5, 2020). 25 The Pluralism Project, The Pluralism Project, https://pluralism.org/home (accessed May 5, 2020). 26 Radha Modi,“Communities on Fire: Confronting Hate Violence and Xenophobic Political Rhetoric,” (Chicago: South Asian American Leadership Together, 2018).

Bibliography Ali, Grace Aneiza. “Rituals, Remembrance, Rupture, and Repair: The Jhandi Flag in Contemporary Guyanese Art.” Asian Diasporic Visual Cultures and the Americas 5, No. 1–2 (2019): 195–200. Balalji, Murali.“The Hindus of the Caribbean:An Appreciation.” HuffPost. The Hindus of The Caribbean:An Appreciation (blog). February 13, 2015. www.huffpost.com/entry/the-hindus-of-the-caribbe_b_6680 036. Ballenas, Carl and Nancy Cataldi. Richmond Hill (Dover:Arcadia Book Company, 2002). Cook, Kevin. Kitty Genovese:The Murder, the Bystanders, the Crime that Changed America. First Edn (New York: WW. Norton & Company, 2014). Indo-Caribbean Alliance, Inc. “Population Analysis of Guyanese and Trinidadians in NYC.” IndoCaribbean Alliance, Inc. February 3, 2014. www.indocaribbean.org/1/post/2014/02/populationanalysis-of-guyanese-and trinidadians-in-nyc.html. Kale, Madhavi. Fragments of Empire: Capital, Slavery, and Indian Indentured Labor Migration in the British Caribbean. Critical Histories (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1998).

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Using Geographic Information Systems (GIS) Knott, Kim. “From Locality to Location and Back Again: A Spatial Journey in the Study of Religion.” Religion 39, No. 2(2009): 154–60. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.religion.2009.01.003. Lobo, Arun Peter and Joseph J. Salvo. The Newest New Yorkers: Characteristics of the City’s Foreign-Born Population. 2013 Edn (New York: Population Division of the New York City Department of City Planning, 2013). Modi, Radha. “Communities on Fire: Confronting Hate Violence and Xenophobic Political Rhetoric.” Chicago: South Asian American Leadership Together, 2018. http://saalt.org/wp-content/uploads/ 2018/01/Communities-on-Fire.pdf. Rampersad, Indrani. “Hinduism in the Caribbean.” In Contemporary Hinduism, edited by P. Pratap Kumar. Religions in Focus (Durham, UK:Acumen, 2013), 57–66. Rentschler, Carrie A.“An Urban Physiognomy of the 1964 Kitty Genovese Murder.” Space and Culture 14, No. 3 (2011): 310–29. https://doi.org/10.1177/1206331211412245. Rocklin, Alexander. The Regulation of Religion and the Making of Hinduism in Colonial Trinidad (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2019). Ryan, Selwyn D. The Jhandi and the Cross: The Clash of Cultures in Post-Creole Trinidad and Tobago (St. Augustine,Trinidad Tobago: Sir Arthur Lewis Institute of Social and Economic Studies,The University of the West Indies, 1999). The Pluralism Project. “The Pluralism Project.” The Pluralism Project. Accessed May 5, 2020. https:// pluralism.org/home. The Polis Center.“Digital Atlas of American Religion.” Digital Atlas of American Religion.Accessed May 5, 2020. https://religionatlas.org/. US Census Bureau. American Community Survey 1-Year Estimates. Retrieved from Census Reporter Profile page for NYC-Queens Community District 9—Richmond Hill & Woodhaven PUMA, NY. 2018a. http://census reporter.org/profiles/79500US3604111-nyc-queens-community-district-9-richmond-hill-wood haven-puma-ny/. US Census Bureau. American Community Survey 1-Year Estimates. Retrieved from Census Reporter Profile page for NYC-Queens Community District 10--Howard Beach & Ozone Park PUMA, NY. 2018b. http://census reporter.org/profiles/79500US3604113-nyc-queens-community-district-10-howard-beach-ozonepark-puma-ny/. Vertovec, Steven. Hindu Trinidad: Religion, Ethnicity and Socio-Economic Change. Warwick University Caribbean Studies (London: Macmillan Caribbean, 1992). Younger, Paul. New Homelands: Hindu Communities in Mauritius, Guyana,Trinidad, South Africa, Fiji, and East Africa (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010).

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7 INFRASTRUCTURE BETWEEN ANTHROPOLOGY, GEOGRAPHY, AND RELIGIOUS STUDIES Isaiah Ellis

Infrastructure forms a critical piece of urban life, both in terms of the way it moves bodies around cities, and the way it has moved cities around bodies, shaping not just movement itself, but the meanings attached to mobility.To understand the physical structures that facilitate movement and its meanings is to understand, in the words of ethnographer Penelope Harvey, “the material conditions of possibility for life”—how the spatial worlds we inhabit came to be and how they might change.1 To understand infrastructure is therefore not just a matter of technical or historical knowledge, but of political possibility. Yet questions remain about infrastructure’s political and social effects, and even what is and isn’t an infrastructure. Much like “religion,” infrastructure is a concept, available for creative adaptation and for critique as either “too specific and coherent” or “far too vague and openended.”2 It can refer to numerous objects with diverse features and functions, including railroads, canals, automotive roads, telephone wires, computer servers, and water and electrical utilities.As often as not, infrastructure can refer to sub-components of each of these things:“infrastructure” describes the subtending structure of any material system (such as a railroad network) but can also describe the system itself. An idea or ideology could be an infrastructure if it subtends the operation of material systems such as those named above.3 This essay introduces perspectives on infrastructure from the fields of anthropology and geography, with an eye toward untangling some of the definitional and methodological problems of the term at its points of connection to religious studies. In doing so, this essay points toward ways of thinking about and researching religion in terms of the “material conditions of possibility” infrastructure affords.

Methodological considerations To understand why infrastructure is difficult to define, we must look to the history of its study.The ethnographic study of infrastructure first coalesced in the 1990s and early 2000s among information scientists, who defined information systems as infrastructures and sought to understand the social impact of the digital distribution of information.4 In the following decades, cultural anthropologists redefined the scope of inquiry, seeking to study the social and political impacts of physical infrastructure projects.5 Within this literature, infrastructure has emerged as an analytic for the study of technology, temporality, and the human/environment relationship in the contemporary 94

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world.6 Named in this way, infrastructure has become difficult to circumscribe, both as something meriting ethnographic attention and as a term with theoretical and methodological implications. Like with the term religion, it is difficult to say what universal insights about infrastructure, or “culture” for that matter, scholars can deduce from local examples. There has been some debate about who first linked infrastructure to culture, but one proposed starting point is of special interest to religious studies: Clifford Geertz’s 1972 essay,“The Wet and the Dry.”7 In this essay, Geertz describes the physical forms of Balinese and Moroccan irrigation systems as “at once a technological unit … a physical unit … a social unit,” and,“as we shall see, a religious unit.”8 For Geertz, these irrigation systems evidence the environmentally determined cultural differences that gave them shape. Paul N. Edwards has since argued that, although building methods and materials for infrastructure projects might become universal in global modernity, a local “technological style” will remain a factor making those projects available for study.The local style imprints the culture itself on territory, shaping solutions to the functional problem of circulation according to local political and social forms. Importantly, a technological style bears an organic relationship to its mother culture; infrastructure is culture made manifest. For Geertz, at least, the religious content of infrastructure lies in the local religion itself. Scholars of postcolonial nations have found that infrastructure projects do not always adopt local forms or proceed with local interests in mind. They have emphasized that, rather than being unproblematic, local cultural products, “roads and water pipes, electricity lines and ports, oil pipelines and sewage systems” are best understood as “critical locations through which sociality, governance, and politics, accumulation and dispossession, and institutions and aspirations are formed, reformed, and performed.”9 This description, from an edited volume entitled The Promise of Infrastructure, is rich but broad, suggesting two things: first, that infrastructures bear political functions beyond the conveyance of bodies, machines, and information; and second, that infrastructures bear a “promise” to reframe the anthropology of the state. It makes these suggestions with multiple conceptual axes in mind that are already under lively use in anthropology, including materiality and embodiment (locations that are “formed, reformed, and performed”), the state (governance), political economy (accumulation and dispossession), and society (institutions and aspirations). Notably, this definition does not restrict what counts as infrastructure, but rather ensures that the concept is empirically and conceptually flexible, able to move fluidly across geographical and historical contexts, and to bring a number of phenomena under its rubric such that they can all be understood on the same terms. This flexibility does not guarantee the term’s usefulness, even if it does promote its use. Laura Rival argues that infrastructure sometimes has pretensions to replace the “social anthropology of technology” without innovating methodologically or adding new layers to terms such as “material culture.”10 For Rival, infrastructure is not a good concept for understanding her field sites in the Brazilian Amazon because it flattens indigenous understandings of old forest paths and new capitalist developments alike. Infrastructure, for Rival, often strays too far from the social worlds anthropologists seek to engage, and thus operates as a new mode of the ethnographic extraction of data.At the very least, the term risks shunting local worlds into the representational nexus of development economics.This is an important caveat for religion scholars; infrastructure can be of little use as a new term if it stands atop familiar categories, whether from within or outside of the field—it must bring something new to the table methodologically without erasing nuanced and site-specific interpretations of the local. A recent work of American religious history, David Walker’s Railroading Religion, shows how this might work.Walker centers railroad infrastructure as a site for the material and administrative production of religious difference, and even of what “religion” is.The small railroad town of Corrine, Utah embodied the ironies and failures of that quest (and, yes, its inhabitants were 95

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called Corrinethians). As Walker argues, railroad expansion into LDS-controlled territory, funneled in part through Corrine, was meant by its boosters to sound the “death knell” of Brigham Young’s and his compatriots’ faith, paving the way for mainline Protestantism and its notions of a secular economic sphere while uplifting dissenting forms of Mormonism more commensurate with the emerging transcontinental markets in trade and tourism.11 “At the nexus of these concerns,” he writes,“we find, in Utah, a locational moment—the placement of western religion—that was also a locomotive moment.”12 Just as Mormonism is “mainlined” in his book, so does Walker himself mainline railroads into American religious history, reframing longstanding questions about religious freedom, the secular, commerce, material culture, sacred space, and even Mormonism itself through rail commerce, land management, and the agents of those projects, processes, and people thought to lie exterior to the usual concerns of religion scholarship.13 While Walker’s book deals with physical infrastructures and administrative practices, the creative uses to which anthropologists have put infrastructure as a methodological and conceptual tool further add to the picture. For Kim Fortun and Mike Fortun, infrastructure refers to any groundwork or pathway for “open, inventive, and experimental modes of access and circulation.”14 Urban anthropologist AbdouMaliq Simone has cultivated that sensibility in his own work. Rather than define infrastructure “in physical terms,” he instead emphasizes “economic collaboration among residents seemingly marginalized and immiserated by urban life.”15 In the absence of sanctioned modes of access and mobility, he argues, human relationships come to fill the function intended for physical infrastructures, forming a “platform providing for and reproducing life in the city.”16 Inspired by black radical thought, Simone’s perspective embodies a recurring critique of the notion that “African cities don’t work.”17 The term infrastructure highlights the contrast between Western ways of seeing “Third World” cities as characterized by lack, and the rich collage of informal economic and social networks that residents of cities such as Lagos and Douala must operationalize daily to get by in environments not designed to provide them with a future. Simone’s work also highlights the ways racist, colonial processes produce contexts whose material conditions verge on the apocalyptic.18 And he is not alone in thinking that infrastructure provokes existential questions about the possibilities for sustaining human life on earth. For Gökçe Günel, the “proposed renewable energy and clean technology infrastructures” that dominate Abu Dhabi’s technology sector serve as spaces offering “technical solutions” to solve the problem of waning “hope” for human existence beyond the current global climate crisis. By technical solutions Günel means the notion that even the most disastrously destructive uses of technology contain within them the reparative seed of survival, or even the promise of utopia.19 For Günel, this entrepreneurial hope constitutes “the soul of carbon.”Yet it is not only those who design physical infrastructure who trade on dreams of creativity and hope, but also local actors unevenly emplaced within the systems that buttress those dreams.Though it is differently phrased and inflected, contemporary work on infrastructure trades on its analyses of enchanting hopes as well as of mundane technical operations. It is in the space between these poles that infrastructure makes lives (un) livable, and worlds (un)inhabitable. Inspired by these multi-disciplinary resources, religion scholars might find that infrastructure provides an especially potent ground to think through—to name a few—contemporary technological utopianism and its critics, internet politics, the continuing extractive labors of industrial production, and religious expressions in cities.20

Between enchantment and zoning: Roads and religion As theories of infrastructure increasingly emphasize emergent networks laden with affective intensities and eschatological hopes, it is easy to place them in conversation with recent religious 96

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studies literature that shares an opposite trajectory by emphasizing the “material dynamics” of religious practice and the networks of relations that have displaced notions of sui generis religion.21 Until recently, few have understood roads as enmeshed in those networks, but a deeper dive into their social and political significance reveals another robust intersection of the study of infrastructure and religious studies. An influential thread of social scientific thought interprets roads as agents of cultural and social erasure, paving over local paths with “empirical non-places,” alienating spaces of transit that cannot themselves “be defined as relational, or historical, or concerned with identity.”22 James C. Scott brings this interpretation to a critique of the modern state, viewing modern roads as the product of “standardization,” defined as “naming practices of the state” that generate “mutually exclusive and exhaustive designations.”23 The process of road construction therefore requires not only technical knowledge but also “a force of social and political will which is able to generate and foster the belief that these technologies have a capacity to transform the spaces through which they will pass.”24 As roads interface between individual bodies and the body politic, they constitute a material performance of modernity and collective identity, marking certain “moods” or dispositions toward the social. Rather than being devoid of relational and social meaning, roads overflow with meaning in their production, their traversing, and in the upbuilding of spaces around them. If roads have a meaningful role to play in statecraft, then state authorities can call upon them to negotiate the religious and secular geographies of cities. Zoning practices are one arena that shows “the co-production of religion and place across a range of contexts, scales, and networks.”25 In one example of this process, geographers Claire Dwyer, Justin Tse, and David Ley have examined “how diverse faith communities negotiate belonging in (sub)urban space within the framework of secular planning regimes, and how they undertake co-existence within a planned zone” that was created in service of “a secular discourse of civic multiculturalism.”26 Such a discourse has informed planning decisions in Richmond, British Columbia according to what Dwyer et al. call “ocular multiculturalism”: over 20 different faith communities’ houses of worship were zoned into place along the Number 5 Road corridor, reflecting the city’s desire to capitalize on their visibility as ethnically and religiously “diverse” spaces through tourism and other forms of economic development.27 The ways zoning laws and negotiations with city and suburban councils affected religious communities in Richmond became evident in the landscape of religious spaces that resulted.The resulting cluster of “ethnic” religious communities along Number 5 Road reflects a “managerial approach to cultural diversity” worth investigating as a form of secular practice enacted through the road itself.28 This kind of curated religious landscape, for scholars such as Dwyer, came to characterize Richmond’s relationship to its migrant communities, as well as its citizens’ views on where certain religious practices should take place in the town. Roads’ mundane dimensions, particularly their administration and production by state actors, often create sentimental “moods” that veer more in the direction of what Penelope Harvey and Hannah Knox call “the enchantments of infrastructure.”29 As my research into road building in the US South has uncovered, in the early twentieth century, advocacy for road improvement occurred in tandem with discourses of Southern “redemption” from defeat in the Civil War and from Northern “misrule” during Reconstruction.30 Roads advocates, nearly all white southerners, framed good roads, or their lack, as evidence of the seen and unseen order of things; how they were and how they should be. As the editor of Southern Good Roads Magazine (SGRM) wrote in 1910, “nothing hampers development, material, moral or spiritual … so much as mud.”31 Throughout the former Confederate states, road advocates argued that relief from mud would benefit Southern life by increasing rural church attendance, intensifying church influence 97

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over Southern life, and offering spaces for the ritual remembrance of Civil War icons such as Robert E. Lee. Many such remembrances took place along “Monument Avenue” in Richmond, Virginia, episodes that Charles Reagan Wilson argues exemplify a “ritualistic expression of the [Confederates’] Lost Cause.”32 Far from being “non-places” or even purely administrative spaces, roads in the early twentieth-century South were technologies for the aesthetic, sentimental, and economic production of “the South” as many Americans have come to view it.The landscapes that emerged along modernized roads were marked by what historian Fitzhugh Brundage calls “memory theaters”—places, markers, and place names that explicitly entangled Old South nostalgia with economic strategy, which black and indigenous southerners contested from their earliest formation.33 Good Roads Movement advocates and other economic boosters often sought to articulate the moral and economic value of roads for rural communities, but their activities generated significant urban and small-town development as well.The best-known case of this is Charleston, South Carolina, which developed its historic district in order to capture Northern tourist dollars while asserting white hegemony over the African-American builders, performers, and street merchants upon whose labor it was built.34 Another, lesser-known example is Pinehurst, North Carolina, which was founded and master-planned from 1895 to 1897 by industrialist James Walker Tufts in collaboration with the firm of Frederick Law Olmsted.The curving streets, expansive croquet lawns, and, later, world-famous golf courses gave rise to a segregated economy of sacred and secular leisure, as resort guests were invited to worship at a multi-purpose entertainment hall featuring minstrel shows, Presbyterian-based “undenominational” services, and lectures on world religions.35 Black residents, many of whom worked in the resort hotels, formed their own religious and communal life in the adjacent semi-formal settlement called “Taylortown.” In this context, road development united religious and racial politics around tourism, with Tufts’ son Leonard and other townspeople collaborating to “make Pinehurst a place for the effective renewal of one’s mental, physical, and spiritual powers.”36 Roads in the US South were complex sites for the formation of cultural memory and for the management of the racialized labor of “progress” as contemporary actors understood it. The prospect of good roads prompted much self-reflection on the role of the white race in the history of roadbuilding. In November of 1913, the newly elected Democratic North Carolina governor, Locke Craig, spoke at a “Good Roads Day” barbeque in Buncombe county. The Asheville Citizen reported him as saying that Good roads are not only desirable, but they are a necessity if we wish to keep pace with the march of progress … This is our land, our heritage, and we must improve it or the Great World Builder will send another race to accomplish what we fail to do.37 Yet “another race” was improving that land.The moral and civilizational project to which Craig referred relied entirely on the use of African American convict labor. Convict labor was universally acknowledged as indispensable for the economic viability of road construction, and some also argued that a vital piece of convicts’ roadbuilding work was to be seen working on the road. If mud offered an insufficient surface for the upbuilding of a New South, black bodies could serve as highly visible instruments of mud’s eradication, and improve themselves morally in the process.38 The Number 5 Road in Richmond, British Columbia, and the numerous roads that traversed the postbellum South call attention to spaces of transit as sites of what Justin Tse calls “immanent processes of cultural place-making, the negotiation of social identities, and the formations of political boundaries, including in geographies where theological analyses do not 98

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seem relevant.”39 Tse’s emphasis on process—place-making and the labor it requires—could serve to render dynamic the binary between place and space that usually remains static in religion scholarship. As oft-cited geographer Yi-Fu Tuan points out, spaces of transit may bear potent political possibilities, as they can represent and facilitate escape, rebellion, and subversion against established orders solidified in place.40

Infrastructure, religion, and cities: Moving forward Roads, canals, and railroads have inspired generative analyses within religious studies.41 These and other infrastructures’ multivalent roles as spaces of statecraft as well as local meaning-making mean they are all the more likely to enhance scholarship on religion in urban contexts. Mary Haycock and Smriti Srinivas offer a compelling theoretical directive to explore what they call “urban re-fabulation,” a process that centers “murals, improvised shrines, stories, or body cultures … that incorporate idioms of devotion and sacrality in order to “inscribe religion and spirituality in cityscapes through material, performative, and other means.”42 As Hillary Kaell argues, finding religious forms in landscapes viewed as secular—a reading to which urban landscapes are particularly susceptible—requires attending to sensory cultures that linger on the margins of the conscious experiences of city-dwellers going about their daily business.This leaves scholars with the paradoxical mandate to examine things that are at once “highly visible and yet somehow invisible.”43 What Haycock and Srinivas call “urban life worlds” are born in both conscious and unconscious moments of human creation, and live in a continual process of becoming-(in) visible as urban landscapes, local concerns, and broader cultural narratives shift. Even when marginalized or made invisible, the concerns of religious communities are always in dialogue with changing cityscapes and the means of moving through them. Spaces of transit and the urban spaces their dynamics shape constitute key points in the formation of collective life and its ground-level politics. They may represent a contested politics of “redemption” and renewal, as in the early twentieth-century South, or they may represent a political push to “mainline” religiously different groups, enfolding their worldviews within a landscape of capitalist governance, as was true of nineteenth-century railroads in Utah.They may serve as points of interest in the everyday politics of urban community. They represent, in each case, the possibility of new ways of engaging mobility and space for religious studies. The interdisciplinary study of infrastructure will be an indispensable conversation partner in realizing such possibilities. As the meaning of the term infrastructure has become more capacious, so has the field of things, bodies, and practices that its definitional rubric seems to include. Studies of infrastructure have drawn on theoretical turns that have also caught religion scholars’ attention, especially the study of material and visual culture. Meanwhile, infrastructures themselves have subtended a large body of scholarship that has identified urban and rural spaces as key sites for understanding religion historically and ethnographically. The phenomena we name as “religion” and the phenomena we name as “infrastructure” are always already entangled with each other, and with a host of other social, cultural, governmental, and economic processes that find their home in cities.

Notes 1 Penelope Harvey,“Introduction,” Critique of Anthropology,“Attention to Infrastructure Offers a Welcome Reconfiguration of Anthropological Approaches to the Political” 38(1) (2018): p. 5. 2 Harvey,“Introduction,” p. 4.

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Isaiah Ellis 3 I wish to thank Brian Larkin for bringing this idea to my attention in a conversation. 4 Susan Leigh Starr,“The Ethnography of Infrastructure,” American Behavioral Scientist 43(3) (November/ December 1999): pp. 377–91; Paul N. Edwards, Geoffrey Bowker, Steven Jackson, and Robin Williams, “An Agenda for Infrastructure Studies,” Journal of the Association for Information Systems 10(5) (2009): pp. 365–74. 5 See Peter Redfield, Space in the Tropics: From Convicts to Rockets in French Guiana (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000); Rudolf Mrazek, Engineers of Happy Land:Technology and Nationalism in a Colony (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2002); Dimitris Dalakoglou, “The Road: An Ethnography of the Albanian-Greek Cross-Border Motorway,” American Ethnologist 37(1) (2010): pp. 132–49; Keller Easterling, Extrastatecraft: The Power of Infrastructure Space (London: Verso, 2014); Brian Larkin, “The Politics and Poetics of Infrastructure,” Annual Review of Anthropology 42 (2013): pp. 327–43; Ashley Carse, Beyond the Big Ditch: Politics, Ecology, and Infrastructure at the Panama Canal (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2014); Penelope Harvey, Roads:An Anthropology of Infrastructure and Expertise (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2015); Gökçe Günel, Spaceship in the Desert: Energy, Climate Change, and Urban Design in Abu Dhabi (Durham: Duke University Press, 2019). 6 Some edited volumes that encapsulate this literature include Thomas J. Misa, Philip Brey, and Andrew Feenberg, eds, Modernity and Technology (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2003); Colin McFarlane and Stephen Graham, eds, Infrastructural Lives: Urban Infrastructures in Context (New York: Routledge, 2014); Lisa Parks and Nicole Starosielski, eds, Signal Traffic: Critical Studies of Media Infrastructures (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2015); Penny Harvey, Casper Bruun Jensen, and Atsuro Morita, eds, Infrastructures and Social Complexity:A Companion (New York: Routledge, 2017); Nikhil Anand,Akhil Gupta, and Hannah Appel, eds, The Promise of Infrastructure (Durham: Duke University Press, 2018); Kregg Hetherington, ed., Infrastructure, Environment, and Life in the Anthropocene (Durham: Duke University Press, 2019). 7 Clifford Geertz, “The Wet and the Dry,” Human Ecology 1(1) (1972): pp. 23–39. Some credit Louis Althusser’s For Marx for its use of infrastructure as a metaphor for the Marxian “base” that undergirds cultural superstructures. Others credit Walter Benjamin’s fragmentary excursus on Paris, The Arcades Project. See Appel,Anand, and Gupta,“Introduction.” 8 Geertz, p. 34. 9 Appel, Anand, and Gupta,“Introduction:Temporality, Politics, and the Promise of Infrastructure,” p. 3. See also Redfield, Space in the Tropics; Mrazek, Engineers of Happy Land; Brian Larkin, Signal and Noise: Media, Infrastructure, and Urban Culture in Nigeria (Durham: Duke University Press, 2008); Nikhil Anand, Hydraulic City: Water and the Infrastructures of Citizenship in Mumbai (Durham: Duke University Press, 2017). 10 Laura Rival, “Opposing the Motion,” Critique of Anthropology, Attention to Infrastructure Offers a Welcome Reconfiguration of Anthropological Approaches to the Political 38(1) (2018): p. 15. For more on social technologies and “socio-technical worlds,” see Timothy Mitchell, Carbon Democracy: Political Power in the Age of Oil (London:Verso, 2013), and Tanja Winther and Harold Wilhite,“Tentacles of Modernity:Why Electricity Needs Anthropology,” Cultural Anthropology 30(4) (2015): pp. 569–77. 11 David Walker, Railroading Religion: Mormons, Tourists, and the Corporate Spirit of the West (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2019), pp. 88–89. 12 Walker, p. 59. 13 Ibid., p. 247. 14 Kim Fortun and Mike Fortun, “An Infrastructural Moment in the Human Sciences,” Cultural Anthropology 30(3) (2015): pp. 359–67. 15 AbdouMaliq Simone,“People as Infrastructure: Intersecting Fragments in Johannesburg,” Public Culture 16 (2004): p. 407. 16 Ibid., p. 409. See also Simone, Always Something Else: Urban Asia and Africa as Experiment (Adelaide: Basler Afrika Bibliographien, 2016). 17 AbdouMaliq Simone, For the City Yet to Come: Changing African Life in Four Cities (Durham: Duke University Press, 2004), p. 1. 18 See for example his reflections on “the uninhabitable.” AbdouMaliq Simone, “The Uninhabitable? In Between Collapsed yet Still Rigid Distinctions,” Cultural Politics 12(2) (July 2016): pp. 135–54.Also see Simone,“The Last Shall Be First:African Urbanities in the Larger Urban World,” in Other Cities; Other Worlds: Urban Imaginaries in a Globalizing Age, ed., Andreas Huyssen (Durham: Duke University Press, 2008), pp. 99–119. Geographer Jeff Garmany has analyzed the role of churches serving as informal institutions of urban governance in Brazil. See Garmany, “Religion and Governmentality: Understanding Governance in Urban Brazil,” Geoforum p. 41 (2010): pp. 908–18.

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Infrastructure, religion, and cities 19 Gökçe Günel, Spaceship in the Desert, p. 21. 20 On industrial production, see Darren Dochuk, Annointed with Oil: How Christianity and Crude Made Modern America (New York: Basic Books, 2019). 21 See David Chidester, Religion: Material Dynamics (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2018), p. 209. 22 Quotes are in Marc Augé, Non-Places:An Introduction to Supermodernity (London:Verso, 2008 [1995]), pp. viii, 63, 97; Also see Dimitris Dalakoglou,“The Road: An Ethnography of the Albanian-Greek CrossBorder Motorway.” American EthnologistVol. 37, No. 1 (2010), pp. 132–49. On roads as spatial instantiations of capitalist hegemony and physical dominance over space, see David Harvey, The Condition of Postmodernity (Malden: Blackwell, 1989); Louis Althusser also describes the characteristic Marxian view of “base” in terms of “infrastructure” in his famous work, For Marx. 23 James C. Scott,“Vernaculars Cross-Dressed as Universals: Globalization as North Atlantic Hegemony,” Macalester International 24(7) (Summer 2009): p. 4. 24 Harvey and Knox,“The Enchantments of Infrastructure,” Mobilities 7(4) (November 2012): p. 523. 25 Elizabeth Olson, Peter Hopkins, and Lily Kong, “Introduction—Religion and Place: Landscape, Politics, and Piety,” in Religion and Place: Landscape, Politics, and Piety, eds, Peter Hopkins, Lily Kong, and Elizabeth Olson (London: Springer, 2013), p. 3. On geographies of the secular, see Banu Gökariksel, “Beyond the Officially Sacred: Religion, Secularism, and the Body in the Production of Subjectivity,” Social and Cultural Geography 10(6) (September 2009): pp. 657–74; Lily Kong,“Global Shifts,Theoretical Shifts: Changing Geographies of Religion,” Progress in Human Geography 34(6) (2010): pp. 755–76. 26 Claire Dwyer, Justin Tse, and David Ley. “Highway to Heaven: The Creation of a Multicultural, Religious Landscape in Suburban Richmond, British Columbia,” Social and Cultural Geography 17 (5) (2016): p. 670. 27 Dwyer,Tse, and Ley, p. 671. 28 Dwyer, Tse, and Ley, p. 671. Rosemary Hicks examines a legal dimension of this issue through her analysis of the “Ground Zero Mosque” controversy in New York City. See Hicks, “Between Lived and the Law: Power, Empire, and Expansion in Studies of North American Religions,” Religion 42(3) (2012): pp. 409–24. Kim Knott also comprehensively theorizes the spatial dimensions of religion in secular publics in her monograph The Location of Religion:A Spatial Analysis (London: Equinox, 2005). 29 Harvey and Knox,“The Enchantments of Infrastructure,” p. 521. 30 C. Vann Woodward, Origins of the New South, 1877–1913 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1951), especially chapter 1; Howard Preston, Dirt Roads to Dixie: Accessibility and Modernization in the South, 1855–1935 (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1991); W. Fitzhugh Brundage, The Southern Past: A Clash of Race and Memory (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2005); Tammy Ingram, Dixie Highway: Road Building and the Making of the Modern South (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2014). 31 Henry Branson Varner, “The Duty of the Press in the Good Roads Movement in the United States,” SGRM 1(3) (March 1910): 3. 32 Charles Reagan Wilson, Baptized in Blood:The Religion of the Lost Cause, 1865–1920 (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1980), pp. 28–9.The term “Lost Cause” dates back to the 1866 publication of a book by that title. Authored by Edward A. Pollard, The Lost Cause argued that the South’s defeat in war was inevitable, and that Southern soldiers, their commanding officers, and their wives and children exemplified the very gallantry the Federal troops supposedly sought to destroy. As Wilson notes, the Lost Cause discourse was as much about “looking forward” to the future of racial politics in the South as it was about looking backward toward the war itself. 33 Brundage, The Southern Past, p. 286. Also see Angela Pulley Hudson, Creek Paths and Federal Roads: Indians, Settlers, and Slaves in the Making of the American South (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2010). 34 Brundage, The Southern Past, chapters 1 and 2. 35 Rev. Thaddeus A. Cheatham wrote of the Village Hall that “There might be a Minstrel show on Saturday night but there would always be a religious service on Sunday if the Minister could be obtained.” Cheatham, “A Brief History of the Village Chapel in Pinehurst,” 1952. Tufts Archives. Pinehurst, NC. 36 Cheatham,“A Brief History.” 37 “Big Barbecue Marks Second of Good Roads Days; Governor is Present and Delivers Address,” Asheville Citizen (November 7, 1913). 38 See Talitha L. LeFlouria, Chained in Silence: Black Women and Convict Labor in the New South (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2016).

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Isaiah Ellis 39 Justin Tse,“Grounded Theologies:‘Religion’ and the ‘Secular’ in Human Geography,” Progress in Human Geography 38(2) (2014): p. 202. 40 Yi-Fu Tuan, Space and Place:The Perspective of Experience (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1977. 41 Hillary Kaell, “Seeing the Invisible: Ambient Catholicism on the Side of the Road,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 85(1) (March 2017): pp. 136–67; Gabriel Klaeger,“Religion on the Road: The Spiritual Experience of Road Travel in Ghana,” Afrika-Studiecentrum Series 13 (2009): pp. 212–31. Some other examples in the literature in the field with which I am most familiar, United States religious history, include: Paul Johnson, A Shopkeeper’s Millenium: Society and Revivals in Rochester, New York, 1815–1837 (New York: Hill and Wang, 1978); and Robert A. Orsi, ed., Gods of the City: Religion and American Urban Life (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999). Laurie Maffly-Kipp also provides a framework for thinking about how a different conception of mobility and movement could change our geographic and temporal understanding of American Religious History. See Maffly-Kipp, “Eastward Ho! American Religion from the Perspective of the Pacific Rim,” in Retelling U.S. Religious History, ed.,Thomas A.Tweed (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997), pp. 127–48. 42 Mary Haycock and Smriti Srinivas,“Ordinary Cities and Milieus of Innovation,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 86(2) (May 2018): p. 462. Emphasis in original. 43 Kaell,“Seeing the Invisible,” p. 137.

Bibliography Anand, Nikhil. Hydraulic City: Water and the Infrastructures of Citizenship in Mumbai (Durham: Duke University Press, 2017). Anand, Nikhil,Akhil Gupta, and Hannah Appel, eds, The Promise of Infrastructure (Durham: Duke University Press, 2018). Augé, Marc. Non-Places:An Introduction to Supermodernity (London:Verso, 2008). Brundage, W. Fitzhugh. The Southern Past: A Clash of Race and Memory (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2005). Carse, Ashley. Beyond the Big Ditch: Politics, Ecology, and Infrastructure at the Panama Canal (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2014). Chidester, David. Religion: Material Dynamics (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2018). Cross, Whitney. The Burned-Over District:The Social and Intellectual History of Enthusiastic Religion in Western New York, 1800–1850 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1950). Dalakoglou, Dimitris. “The Road: An Ethnography of the Albanian-Greek Cross-Border Motorway.” American Ethnologist 37, No.1 (2010): pp. 132–49. Dwyer, Claire, Justin Tse, and David Ley.“Highway to Heaven:The Creation of a Multicultural, Religious Landscape in Suburban Richmond, British Columbia.” Social and Cultural Geography 17, No. 5 (2016): pp. 667–93. Easterling, Keller. Extrastatecraft:The Power of Infrastructure Space (London:Verso, 2014). Edwards, Paul N., Geoffrey Bowker, Steven Jackson and Robin Williams. “An Agenda for Infrastructure Studies.” Journal of the Association for Information Systems 10, No. 5 (2009): pp. 365–74. Fortun, Kim and Mike Fortun.“An Infrastructural Moment in the Human Sciences.” Cultural Anthropology 30, No. 3 (2015): pp. 359–67. Garmany, Jeff.“Religion and Governmentality: Understanding Governance in Urban Brazil.” Geoforum 41 (2010): pp. 908–18. Geertz, Clifford.“The Wet and the Dry.” Human Ecology 1, No. 1 (1972): pp. 23–39. Gökariksel, Banu.“Beyond the Officially Sacred: Religion, Secularism, and the Body in the Production of Subjectivity.” Social and Cultural Geography 10, No. 6 (2009): pp. 657–74. Günel, Gökçe. Spaceship in the Desert: Energy, Climate Change, and Urban Design in Abu Dhabi (Durham: Duke University Press, 2019). Harvey, David. The Condition of Postmodernity (Malden: Blackwell, 1989). Harvey, Penelope. Roads: An Anthropology of Infrastructure and Expertise (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2015). Harvey, Penelope, Casper Bruun Jensen, and Atsuro Morita, eds, Infrastructures and Social Complexity: A Companion (New York: Routledge, 2017).

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Infrastructure, religion, and cities Harvey, Penny and Hannah Knox. “The Enchantments of Infrastructure.” Mobilities 7, No. 4 (2012): pp. 521–36. Haycock, Mary and Smriti Srinivas. “Ordinary Cities and Milieus of Innovation.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 86, No. 2 (2018): pp. 454–72. Hetherington, Kregg, ed., Infrastructure, Environment, and Life in the Anthropocene (Durham: Duke University Press, 2019). Hicks, Rosemary. “Between Lived and the Law: Power, Empire, and Expansion in Studies of North American Religions.” Religion 42, No. 3 (2012): pp. 409–24. Hopkins, Peter, Lily Kong, and Elizabeth Olson, eds, Religion and Place: Landscape, Politics, and Piety (London: Springer, 2013). Ingram, Tammy. Dixie Highway: Road Building and the Making of the Modern South (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2014). Johnson, Paul. A Shopkeeper’s Millenium: Society and Revivals in Rochester, New York, 1815–1837 (New York: Hill and Wang, 1978). Knott, Kim. The Location of Religion:A Spatial Analysis (London: Equinox, 2005). Kong, Lily. “Global Shifts, Theoretical Shifts: Changing Geographies of Religion.” Progress in Human Geography, 34, No. 6 (2010): pp. 755–76. Larkin, Brian. “The Politics and Poetics of Infrastructure.” Annual Review of Anthropology 42 (2013): pp. 327–43. Larkin, Brian. Signal and Noise: Media, Infrastructure, and Urban Culture in Nigeria (Durham: Duke University Press, 2008). Lazar, Sian, Penelope Harvey, Laura Bear, Laura Rival, Soumhya Venkatesan, and AbdouMaliq Simone. “Attention to Infrastructure Offers a Welcome Reconfiguration of Anthropological Approaches to the Political.” Critique of Anthropology 38, No. 1 (2018): pp. 3–52. Maddrell, Avril and Veronica della Dora. “Editorial: Spaces of Renewal.” Culture and Religion 14, No. 1 (2013): pp. 1–7. McFarlane, Colin and Stephen Graham, eds, Infrastructural Lives: Urban Infrastructures in Context (New York: Routledge, 2014). Misa,Thomas J., Philip Brey, and Andrew Feenberg, eds, Modernity and Technology (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2003). Mitchell, Timothy. Carbon Democracy: Political Power in the Age of Oil (London:Verso, 2013). Mrazek, Rudolf. Engineers of Happy Land: Technology and Nationalism in a Colony (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2002). Orsi, Robert A., ed., Gods of the City: Religion and American Urban Life (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999). Parks, Lisa and Nicole Starosielski, eds, Signal Traffic: Critical Studies of Media Infrastructures (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2015). Preston, Howard. Dirt Roads to Dixie: Accessibility and Modernization in the South, 1855–1935 (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1991). Redfield, Peter. Space in the Tropics: From Convicts to Rockets in French Guiana (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000). Scott, James C. “Vernaculars Cross-Dressed as Universals: Globalization as North Atlantic Hegemony.” Macalester International 24, No. 7 (2009): pp. 1–21. Simone, AbdouMaliq. Always Something Else: Urban Asia and Africa as Experiment (Adelaide: Basler Afrika Bibliographien, 2016). Simone,AbdouMaliq. For the CityYet to Come: Changing African Life in Four Cities (Durham: Duke University Press, 2004). Simone, AbdouMaliq. “The Last Shall Be First: African Urbanities in the Larger Urban World.” In Other Cities; Other Worlds: Urban Imaginaries in a Globalizing Age, ed., Andreas Huyssen (Durham: Duke University Press, 2008), pp. 99–119. Simone,AbdouMaliq.“People as Infrastructure: Intersecting Fragments in Johannesburg.” Public Culture 16, No. 3 (2004): pp. 407–29. Simone, AbdouMaliq. “The Uninhabitable? In Between Collapsed yet Still Rigid Distinctions.” Cultural Politics 12, No. 2 (2016): pp. 135–54. Starr, Susan Leigh. “The Ethnography of Infrastructure.” American Behavioral Scientist 43, No. 3 (1999): pp. 377–91.

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Isaiah Ellis Tse, Justin. “Grounded Theologies: ‘Religion’ and the ‘Secular’ in Human Geography.” Progress in Human Geography 38, No. 2 (2014): pp. 201–20. Vann Woodward, C. Origins of the New South, 1877–1913 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1951). Walker, David. Railroading Religion: Mormons, Tourists, and the Corporate Spirit of the West (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2019). Winther, Tanja and Harold Wilhite. “Tentacles of Modernity: Why Electricity Needs Anthropology.” Cultural Anthropology 30, No. 4 (2015): pp. 569–77.

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PART II

Religious frameworks and ideologies in urban contexts

8 RELIGION, CULTURE, AND URBAN SPACE Chicago and American religious history beyond 1893 Isaiah Ellis

When the French missionary Jacques Marquette first ventured into the region later known as the State of Illinois in the early 1670s, the Illinouiek (Illinois) people offered him a ceremonial welcome. This encounter was not an invitation to conquest, but rather a moment of contact showcasing Illinois territorial dominance and it was fraught with religious and political implications. It was unthinkable at that time that a viable Anglophone commercial metropolis might emerge anywhere near that meeting point. Yet works such as Donald L. Miller’s City of the Century:The Epic of Chicago and the Making of America place Marquette’s story at the beginning of a tale of American imperial expansion and capitalism culminating in just such a metropolis. Marquette, in particular, has served as the “perfect founding hero for a city at times anxious to prove that it was devoted to more than money and merchandising.”1 This enduring narrative has made it nearly impossible to write a profane history of Chicago; the “thrilling tale[s] of origins and adventure” that begin the story often transform mundane historical chapters into verses comprising “a Chicago Aeneid.”2 Chicago’s narrators still struggle to reconcile the mean and the meaningful, commerce and high culture, and vice and religion.This bivalent way of seeing the city has fundamentally shaped its popular imagining, including in Erik Larson’s famous work of nonfiction, Devil in the White City. The book places Chicago’s ultimate spectacle, the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition, and its first known serial murderer, H.H. Holmes, side by side as an example of the blurred lines between urban allure and urban danger,“the White City and the Black.”3 The Chicago it presents is a theater of lustrous facades concealing lurking murderers. Chicago’s prominent place in the American imagination forces us to consider not only the staggering breadth of religious and cultural phenomena it and other large metropolises have hosted, but also how cities themselves can become the holy objects of history, gloriously created yet needing redemption, fraught with moral meaning yet dogged by the specter of sin.This essay suggests that the story of American religion and American urbanism intersected formatively in Chicago in ways sometimes concealed and oversimplified by the glow of the Exposition and the black-and-white reading toward which that spectacle often points. Consequently, this essay goes “beyond” 1893 by drawing historical threads around and through that moment.Without 107

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claiming to cover Chicago’s history comprehensively, this essay highlights moments in that history that reveal the complex entanglements of urban fabrics and the lives lived within them.

The Portage: A fragment in space and time The myth of Chicago’s origins often fails adequately to describe the forces at multiple scales that shaped its regional landscape. Marquette arrived in a landscape still settling out in the aftermath of the Mississippian metropolis of Cahokia, whose emptying 500 years prior had left a massive, “vacant corridor” in the heart of the North American continent, filled first by Siouan-speaking groups from the west, and then by the Illinois, who submitted other regional tribes militarily and then economically, by controlling trade in furs, captives, and other goods.4 In the face of these large-scale forces, it is ironic that the region’s history would later turn on a discrete and relatively small fragment of this territory: a muddy, six-mile land crossing between the Chicago and Des Plaines Rivers, later known as the Chicago portage, that afforded boat traffic a passage from Lake Michigan to the Mississippi River and thus the means to connect the Atlantic with the continent’s interior. To Indigenous, French, and American actors alike, the portage spoke a universal language of economic mobility and political power. The portage constituted the stakes of the 1795 Greenville Treaty, which saw the Potawatomi—newly empowered in the region after defeating the Illinois in collaboration with the French—cede a “six miles square” plot of land at the mouth of the Chicago River to the recently arrived Americans. Potawatomi hegemony over the shores of Lake Michigan did not survive the succession of treaties that followed the Greenville Treaty, although early non-Indigenous settlers continued to feel their presence in important ways. By the 1780s, citizens of the new American nation had begun pouring westward into and through the Ohio River Valley.There, a Confederacy of Potawatomi, Huron, Shawnee, Miami, and Odawa halted their progress through military actions that persisted into the 1790s. Stretched thin first by these conflicts and then the treaties, by the Autumn of 1833, the Potawatomi had ceded the last of their land abutting the portage, and were removed north of what would become the incorporated town of Chicago in 1837. Though some went as far as present-day Wisconsin, most Potawatomi remained close.5 A Francophone, Afro-Caribbean man named Jean-Baptiste Point du Sable is rumored to have been the first non-Indigenous settler in the vicinity of the portage, representing for some historians the “mixed blood” that would make Chicago a great “conglomeration of races and breeds.”6 He purchased some land and set up a trading post with a Potawatomi woman around 1790, which he sold ten years later to a Métis trader, who was later supplanted by merchant John Kinzie, Chicago’s Ur white settler.7 Kinzie fled when a band of Potawatomi burned the nearby Fort Dearborn in August 1812, returning a few years later to find small trading posts like his being swallowed up by the much larger operations fueling the early speculative economy that preceded Chicago’s incorporation. In the following decades, Kinzie’s family and other settlers would seize the opportunities the ongoing treaty negotiations presented to claim damages from the Potawatomi for their 1812 actions, in the process beginning to craft the colonial history of the area as the balance of regional power shifted in their favor.8 Neither Kinzie nor Point du Sable was born in Chicago, nor had Chicago been founded when they lived there. Neither transcended the Indigenous histories of the region, as early Chicagoans are sometimes thought to have done, and neither has escaped the narrative demands of historical memory, which has firmly rooted them, along with Jacques Marquette, in the mythological landscape of Chicago’s founding. Chicago’s Museum of African-American history and a prominent downtown monument each bear Point du Sable’s name, while Kinzie’s name 108

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serves to brand real estate companies, schools, and venture capital firms. The prodigal settlers Kinzie and Point du Sable, respectively, have come to represent sanctified speculation, capitalist hegemony, and the play of difference in that complex spatial web.They serve as stand-ins for a complicated urban history often delineated in black and white.

The “Daemon” of innovation: Speculation, migration, and the urban In the early- and mid-nineteenth century, the United States’ most intense concentrations of Anglo-American religious enthusiasms moved off the Eastern Seaboard in tandem with settlers colonizing the Western Reserve, Ohio River Valley, and other territories lying between the Appalachian Mountains and the Mississippi River.9 Cities in the continental interior mattered a great deal throughout this period as sites fueling economic accumulation and religious experimentation.10 Chicago’s population ballooned from around 5,000 residents in 1840 to nearly 300,000 in 1870, serving not only as a venue for industry but, also, and in step with its economic transformations, as a hub for religious communities, both well-established and emergent.11 Yet it hardly looked the part. As late as the 1870s, Chicago’s urban environment was as disgusting as it was bustling. Its streets were mostly unpaved at that time, and innovative engineers wielding cutting-edge hydraulic jacks were sometimes all that kept its larger structures standing atop the thick, swampy mud of the portage. Though physically an impediment to orderly movement, the muddy streets and slapdash built environment also signaled metaphorically and experientially a lack of fixity that, according to historian of Judaism, Tobias Brinkmann, left the city “well suited for a religious experiment.”12 Between 1833 and 1893, newcomers would shape the city by experimenting with religious, social, and architectural forms, marking the presence of what early Chicago historians Lloyd Lewis and Henry Justin Smith have called Chicago’s “Daemon,” the spirit inhering in its very identity as a place:“Innovation.”13 The 1850s saw the early emergence of what historians St. Clair Drake and Horace Cayton call the “black metropolis,” which began as a smaller “black belt” operating as a “city of refuge” during enslavement. Numbering only several hundred permanent residents, black Chicago’s homes and churches often swelled with fugitive bodies heading north. By the 1850s, churches such as Quinn Chapel AME and Xenia (now Olivet) Baptist Church made Chicago one of the most important points of transit for the underground railroad outside of the east coast “metropolitan corridor.”14 The nationwide growth of cities during this period did not free black Americans from the effects of racism, but cities did provide venues for political organizing, gainful labor, and “community consciousness.” In nineteenth-century Chicago those venues, that community, and that consciousness proved exceptionally strong.15 Another “metropolis” was emerging on the margins of the white and the black metropolises. Prussian Jews, some of them fleeing a failed 1848 revolution, flocked to North America by the hundreds of thousands.16 While many stayed in the eastern cities where they had landed, others took advantage of new canal, rail, and road networks, making their way to such places as St. Louis, Cincinnati, and Chicago. Marcus Spiegel, one such migrant, arrived in Chicago in 1850.17 He peddled various goods in Chicago and around rural Ohio before settling down with Caroline Hamlin, a Virginian Quaker. Some of Spiegel’s kin ascended in Chicago’s emerging banking and garment sectors. Another of his kin, Bernard Felsenthal, became the first rabbi of the controversial Sinai congregation, founded in 1861.18 The Spiegels returned to Chicago, where they helped found a Hebrew Benevolent Society, and campaigned for Stephen Douglas in the presidential election of 1860.19 When the War came, Marcus enlisted for the Union, rising to the rank of Colonel. 109

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Organizations such as Hebrew Benevolent Societies, which ministered to and helped assimilate newly arrived Jewish migrants, were one piece of a much larger landscape of Chicago Jewish philanthropy and cultural work that remained connected to Jewish congregational life well into the twentieth century. Prominent members of the Sinai congregation such as Julius Rosenwald (1862–1932), part owner of Sears, Roebuck, and Co., and Harry Hart, founder in 1887 of a menswear manufacturing empire, boasted particularly large philanthropic endeavors whose reach extended across the United States.20 Philanthropy also provided avenues for elite Jewish women such as Sarah L. Hart, wife of Harry Hart, to involve themselves in congregational and civic life.21 Hebrew Benevolent Societies, along with Chicago’s early congregations, including Sinai and the even older Kehilath Anshe Ma’ariv (KAM; est. 1847) would shape Chicago’s landscape of the dead as well as of the living, maintaining their own cemeteries into the twenty-first century. Another Civil War soldier from the Jewish metropolis is worth mentioning in this context: Dankmar Adler (1844–1900). Adler had arrived in Chicago in 1861 alongside his father, Liebman, who later became head rabbi of KAM.22 Dankmar served in the Illinois Light Infantry as an engineer, then returned to Chicago where he quickly became an architectural draftsman and acoustic engineer of note. He founded his own firm in 1879, and the next year he hired a talented young draftsman, Louis Henri Sullivan (1856–1924), who had come west from Massachusetts on hearing that a great fire at the beginning of the decade had initiated a boom in the architecture business that showed no signs of slowing. On arriving he was struck by Chicago’s chaotic environs: he thought it all magnificent and wild: a crude extravaganza, an intoxicating rawness … The pavements were vile” and “they erupted here and there and everywhere in ooze … But despite the panic, there was a stir; an energy that made him [Sullivan] tingle to be in the game.23 Sullivan attributed this “intoxicating rawness” to something he would often call “Nature’s Spirit,” whose relationship to contemporary American architecture and urbanism he tried to articulate using the maxim that would cement his place in the canons of modern architecture: “form ever follows function.” Perhaps due to Adler’s connection with KAM, the Adler and Sullivan firm spent much of their early partnership designing private homes and club houses for Chicago’s wealthy Jews. Ultimately, however, their careers and reputations were made through opera halls, “tall office buildings,” and other famous civic structures such as the lavish and stately Auditorium Building, completed in 1889. Yet even these commercial structures were objects of Adler’s and (more famously) Sullivan’s transcendentalist-inspired theorizing, exemplary of an emerging “American style.”24 Through their partnership, Chicago’s commercial architecture came into its own— ironically—as a religiously inflected critique of capitalism’s utilitarian aesthetics.Yet their critique of contemporary capitalism clearly had its limits, as Adler, Sullivan, and other commercial architects strove to elevate capital and all its benefactors aesthetically. The principles by which Adler and Sullivan did this were shaped largely by Sullivan’s fascination with Walt Whitman and Theosophy (he was known to have attended lectures by noted expositor Annie Besant while living in Chicago). Sullivan thought of himself as a poet of architecture, relying on insights from nature and its “Inscrutable Spirit” to guide his hand in developing the American aesthetic he pursued.

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Rings, loops, and grand courts: Sociology, migration, and religion on display The interplay of commerce, architecture, and culture generated several other built environments touched by nineteenth-century religious histories, none more famous than the “White City” of the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition. Resentful of its Swedenborgian planner, Daniel H. Burnham, Louis Sullivan would later characterize the White City’s neo-Classical, Europeaninspired aesthetics as the death knell of Chicago’s nascent American style.25 But the Exposition did much more than reference Europe. In this event, Kathryn Lofton writes, “every thread of subsequent historiography [on American religion] may be and has been read,” including progressivism, Orientalism, pluralism, and triumphalism in the arena of religious difference put on display there.26 Expositions such as this one were, as President William McKinley would later say, “intended to record the world’s progress” and, amid many grand displays of artistic and technological prowess, spectators could also observe the fruits of American racial science and imperial conquest in the form of black and indigenous people displayed in their “traditional garb.”27 Yet, for Sullivan, the Exposition’s architectural form revealed the illusory nature of its grandeur. In attempting to showcase Chicago’s status as a center of culture as well as commerce, Sullivan fumed, Burnham and his colleagues had forsaken the true spirit of the city itself. Chicago was America’s city, he reasoned, and European pretenses need not concern its art or its culture. Sullivan was not the Exposition’s only critic. Fannie Barrier Williams (1855–1944) used the alabaster-colored spaces of the Exposition to navigate between the white and black metropolises, speaking on the subjects of religion, domesticity, and the lives of modern black women.28 Born in Brockport, New York, well-educated, and raised in the only black family to attend the town’s First Baptist Church, Williams recalled feeling insulated from the country’s racial strife until 1867, when she joined the many northern (and mostly white) volunteer teachers who flocked to the deep South to play their part in sectional reconciliation.After teaching there, and then in Washington, DC, in 1887 she moved to Chicago with her husband, S. Laing Williams, where they both rose to social prominence, entertaining and befriending luminaries of wide repute, including famous anti-lynching advocate Ida B. Wells, and noted public figure Booker T. Washington. In 1892 she convinced the Exposition’s Board of Lady Managers, headed by Chicago’s most prominent white women, to include her and several Southern black women as speakers to the Exhibition’s Women’s Congress and the World’s Parliament of Religions, where she spoke on “The Relation of the Home and Christian Temperance.”29 The Exposition and the Parliament allowed Williams to articulate her own path to respectability in black and white society, as well as to critique the failings of liberal Christianity in promoting racial justice after the Civil War—a failure she personally witnessed while living in the South.30 Like Williams, many of the Parliament’s students of religion were also students of the city, bringing their social and moral concerns to bear on their study and their action.Yet it was not only Chicagoans who voiced skepticism at the Parliament’s triumphalism. In at least one case, the event’s Protestant-centered narrative found itself under fire from foreign visitors. In one instance, one Rev. George F. Pentecost accused “Some of the Brahmins of India” of judging Christianity by “what is outside the pale of [it]”—namely, he complained, the Indians “take the slums of New York and Chicago and ask why we do not cure ourselves.”31 Pentecost then set about comparing American urban vices to Indian ones, asserting that Hindu Temple Priestesses “were priestesses because they were prostitutes and were prostitutes because they were priestesses.” One A. Gandhi offered a reprisal the next day that cut Pentecost and his colleagues to the quick:

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Some men in their ambition think that they are Pauls … they go to India to convert the heathen in a mass, but when they find their dreams melting away … they return back to pass a whole life in abusing the Hindu.32 Gandhi’s tactful critique of Christian missionary practice suggests what he may have thought the Parliament in its context represented:American Christians’ inability to keep their own house in order while they attempted to missionize the world. Nowhere was this hypocrisy more evident, it seemed, than in America’s cities. This religious debate was an academic one, particularly for researchers at The University of Chicago. One such scholar,Albion W. Small, gave a paper at the Parliament of Religions entitled “The Church and City Problems.” Small’s presence there reflected a broad sociological concern about cities’ impact on Christianity at the turn of the century, and vice versa, with points of focus ranging from the census to property law to American identity, the latter concern mirroring that of another famous 1893 oration: Frederick Jackson Turner’s “The Significance of the Frontier in American History.”33 Smith’s successors at The University of Chicago developed theories of urban growth and change that wedded the natural metaphors developed by the likes of Louis Sullivan to a social gospel-inflected concern about urban life in an industrial age of increased religious, cultural, and racial difference. In the famous 1925 volume, The City, often seen as emblematic of the “Chicago School” of urban sociology, Robert E. Park (1864–1944) defines the city as “the natural habitat of civilized man” that “takes on the characteristics and qualities of its inhabitants” and “shows the good and evil in human nature in excess.”34 Cities molded their inhabitants into urban subjects governed by systemic processes of economic change and a more or less stable mixture of countervailing social and religious forces. For Park, an essential function of an urban organism was to “metabolize” such forces. In an ethnological essay on Caribbean religions, Park connected current theories about racial difference and its links with illiteracy to the survival of folk rituals and epistemologies among urban African-Americans in the United States. Park’s anxiety about the perseverance of “Negro magic” in this context likely reflected the black metropolis’s recent explosive growth through northward migration, the broadening social and sensory visibility of black church activity, and the increasing fracture of the city into ethno-religious enclaves due to massive immigration since the 1870s.35 Park also imagines the common early twentieth-century reformist impulse to engage in urban philanthropic and missionary work as a kind of ceremonial cure to the urban ills these changes had wrought, including widespread impoverishment, overcrowding, and corporate lawlessness. In his “organic” understanding of cities, urban issues were like “bodily and spiritual ailments.”36 Reformer Jane Addams’ well-known work in Hull House, the lay mission she established with her childhood friend Ellen Gates Starr, provides one example of how religious projects dovetailed with the broader goals of urban reform to improve the “immigrant quarters” of the city.37 This white magic of Reform worked to heal the urban body taken ill with difference.“Negro magic,” by contrast, marked that difference. Alongside Chicago sociologists were Chicago historians of religion. Frederick Jackson Turner’s “frontier thesis,” which held that the pioneer trails of westward expansion swept up Europeans and forged them into Americans, had nearly an immediate impact on historical study. This thesis birthed a generation of frontier-obsessed historians within the field of American religious history, including Peter G. Mode, who found a “frontier spirit” at the heart of American Christianity.38 In the long term it inspired historians of religion to search for the essence of American religion at the very moment when it was released from the east coast into the continental interior.39 In recent decades, these Chicago Schools’ paradigms have been met with the more grounded perspectives generally associated with the “lived religion” paradigm.40 Cities— 112

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particularly Chicago—continue to serve as key sites for examining the “restructuring of religion” and for the role of religion in the “restructuring of cities.”41 Chicago’s role in the legacy of frontier-inspired and city-inspired scholarship in religious studies is likely to remain both strong and productively paradoxical on account of its dual status as both frontier and city, urbs in horto—“the city in the garden.”

Conclusion Chicago is an unusually compelling point from which to view American religious history, particularly at its points of intersection with histories of race, capitalism, and theory and method in the study of religion.42 For historians as well as for historical actors such as Louis Sullivan, Chicago has oozed intangible qualities that seem sui generis to the city, yet were produced within the historical conditions of its development.William Cronon avers in his famous work, Nature’s Metropolis: Chicago and the Great West, that holding fast to “the urban–rural, human–natural dichotomy blinds us to the deeper unity beneath our own divided perceptions.”43 Chicago’s religious and urban history since before its founding is best considered in light of a dialectic between urban life and urban fabric, a dialectic best expressed not only as a revelation of deep human connection or industrial alienation, but of productive relations between doctrine, practice, and religious innovation on the one hand, and the city and region’s material circuits of capital, nature, and culture on the other. Perhaps it is easy to understand why so many of Chicago’s narrators have resorted to the metaphysical to understand a place so unique in its allure and complexity.

Notes 1 Donald L. Miller, City of the Century:The Epic of Chicago and the Making of America (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996), 41. 2 Miller, 30. 3 Erik Larson, Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America (New York: Penguin, 2003), p. xi. 4 Those Siouan groups were the forerunners of the Winnebago, Otoe, and Ioway. Robert Michael Morrissey, Empire by Collaboration: Indians, Colonists, and Governments in Colonial Illinois Country (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015), 20. The Illinois were hegemonic in the region until the 1760s, when French-backed Potawatomi drove them away from the lake shore. See James A. Clifton, The Prairie People: Continuity and Change in Potawatomi Indian Culture, 1665–1965, Expanded Edn (Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press, 1998), p. 97. 5 Michael A. McDonald, Masters of Empire: Great Lakes Indians and the Making of America (New York: Hill & Wang, 2015), pp. 311–14; Clifton, p. 238. 6 Milo Milton Quaife, Checagou (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1933), p. 46. Also see Drake and Cayton, p. 32, and Christopher Robert Reed, Black Chicago’s First Century:Vol. I, 1833–1900 (Columbia, MO: University of Missouri Press, 2005), pp. 27–35. 7 Kinzie’s possession of Point du Sable’s former land is recounted in a short, readable essay that covers many of the topics addressed in this essay. See R. David Edmunds, “Chicago in the Middle Ground,” Encyclopedia of Chicago, online, www.encyclopedia.chicagohistory.org/pages/300129.html. Also, see St. Clair Drake and Horace Cayton, Black Metropolis:A Study of Negro Life in a Northern City, Revised and Enlarged Edn (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1970), p. 31. 8 Kinzie’s heirs would claim damages in the amount of $3,500 during the 1820s treaty negotiations. See Clifton, Prairie People, 230; Kinzie’s daughter later published a memoir of the massacre. See Juliette Augusta Magill Kinzie, Narrative of the Massacre at Chicago, Saturday, August 15, 1812, and of Some Preceding Events (Chicago, IL:William Ellis and Robert Fergus Job Printers, 1844). See also Clifton, p. 238. 9 This intense geographic and theological transformation is usually associated with what some have called “the Second Great Awakening.” See Whitney Cross, The Burned-Over District:The Social and Intellectual

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10

11

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History of Enthusiastic Religion in Western New York, 1800–1850 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1950); Paul Johnson, A Shopkeeper’s Millennium: Society and Revivals in Rochester, New York, 1815–1837 (New York: Hill and Wang, 1978); Paul Conkin, Cane Ridge:America’s Pentecost (Madison,WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 1990); Edwin S. Gaustad and Leigh Eric Schmidt, The Religious History of America, Revised Edn (San Francisco, CA: Harper San Francisco, 2002). Recently, Jennifer Graber has moved this narrative to the Southern plains, in contemporary Oklahoma, TX, and Mexico, with a focus on the religious ideologies of Anglo expansion, Indigenous conversion, and the annexation of land. See Graber, The Gods of Indian Country: Religion and the Struggle for the American West (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018). Geographers and critical theorists have theorized “the urban” as inherently disruptive, leaving space for the proliferation of difference and of revolutionary acts and ideas. French philosopher Henri Lefebvre, best known for his work, The Production of Space, argues in a much smaller text, The Urban Revolution, that the nineteenth century birthed an “urban problematic,” caused by industrialization and the transformation of social relations, understandings of nature, and mass culture that attended it. In the urban problematic, social and political problems find their articulation in forms specific to urban life. If Lefebvre meant that a city’s form and its content shape one another inescapably—I suspect a more localist interpretation than he intended—then we should read the many intertwining threads of religious life in Chicago’s early decades as symptomatic, or better yet suggestive, of an urban problematic. Henri Lefebvre, The Urban Revolution, trans. Robert Bonono (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2003 [1970]). There was never a chance of treating all these communities in depth, and I hope readers will forgive the many absences in this essay. I have many colleagues and mentors to thank for helping me flesh out the fabric of this essay, including Yaakov Ariel, Erik S. Gellman, Emma Z. Rothberg, Katherine Turk, and Brook Wilensky-Lanford.The responsibility for mistakes or omissions rests solely with me. Tobias Brinkmann, Sundays at Sinai: A Jewish Congregation in Chicago (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 2012), pp. 31–2. Lloyd Lewis and Henry Justin Smith, Chicago:The History of its Reputation (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Company, 1929), 10. See also ibid., p. 64, where Lewis and Smith discuss a self-identified Chicago “prophet,” John Stephen Wright.Wright was an investor and risk-taker who made and then lost huge sums of money over the course of his life. Lewis and Smith write: He plunged on, orating, writing, publishing his versions of what the city must become, and even when he was coming to his end, a poor man, he was nevertheless crying the immeasurable future of Chicago, seeing it as the only true city of America and himself as its prophet.

14 15

16

17 18

19

For more on the economic “Daemon,” see William Cronon, Nature’s Metropolis: Chicago and the Great West (New York:W.W. Norton, 1992), pp. 55–96. Reed, Black Chicago’s First Century; Eric Foner, Gateway to Freedom: The Hidden History of America’s Fugitive Slaves (New York:W.W. Norton, 2015), pp. 151–89. See Drake and Cayton, p. 35; Foner, p. 182; Leonard P. Curry, The Free Black in Urban America, 1800– 1850: the Shadow of the Dream (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1981); On the black metropolis in the twentieth century, see Wallace Best, Passionately Human, No Less Divine: Religion and Culture in Black Chicago, 1915–1952 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005); Daverian L. Baldwin, Chicago’s New Negroes: Modernity, the Great Migration, and Black Urban Life (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2009); Joe William Trotter, Jr., Workers on Arrival: Black Labor in the Making of America (Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2019). This was a sharp uptick from the approximately 50,000 Jews who had migrated from Europe to North America between 1820 and 1840. Hasia Diner, “A Century of Migration, 1820–1924,” in Michael Grunberger, ed., From Haven to Home: 350 Years of Jewish Life in America (Washington, DC: Library of Congress, 2004), p. 80. Frank L. Byrne and Jean Powers Soman, eds, Your True Marcus:The Civil War Letters of a Jewish Colonel (Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 1985). Sinai’s founder, Emile Hirsch, considered its founding document to be a pamphlet published by a Chicago Jew entitled (in translation): “A Voice in the Wilderness: on Jewish Reform—a Message to Its Friends.” Isaac Mayer Wise thought the pamphlet too radical and decried it on a visit to Chicago, igniting controversy. See Brinkmann, p. 35. Byrne and Soman, pp. 4–6, 12; Hasia R. Diner, Roads Taken:The Great Jewish Migrations to the New World and the Peddlers Who Forged the Way (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2015), pp. 76–7.

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Religion, culture, and urban space 20 See Tobias Brinkmann, Sundays at Sinai; Irving Cutler, The Jews of Chicago: From Shtetl to Suburb (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1996). Readers of German may consult Tobias Brinkmann, Von der Gemeinde zur “Community”: Jüdische Einwanderer in Chicago, 1840–1900 (Osnabrück: Rasch, 2002);Also see Morris Gutstein, A Priceless Heritage:The Epic Growth of Nineteenth Century Chicago Jewry (New York: Bloch Publishing Co., 1953). On Chicago Jewish labor relations see Susan Roth Breitzer, “Uneasy Alliances: Hull House, the Garment Workers Strikes, and the Jews of Chicago,” Indiana Magazine of History 106(1) (March 2010): pp. 40–70. 21 On Jewish women and philanthropy in Chicago see Hannah Farmer,“Eve in the Renegade City: Elite Jewish Women’s Philanthropy in Chicago, 1890–1900” (Ph.D. Diss., University of Southampton, 2012). Hart would become most interested in Juvenile Corrections, a topic of social and moral concern that would only grow along with twentieth-century labor and racial tensions in the mid-twentieth century. See Erik S. Gellman, Troublemakers: Chicago’s Freedom Struggles Through the Lens of Art Shay (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 2020). 22 Kehilath Anshe Ma’ariv was originally intended to be Kehilath Anshe Ma’arav, meaning “Congregation of Men of the West.” See Brinkmann, Sundays at Sinai, p. 21. 23 Louis Sullivan, Autobiography of an Idea (New York: Dover, 1956 [1924]), p. 74. Throughout the Autobiography, Sullivan refers to himself in the third person. 24 Though he is not remembered for it, Adler had his own thoughts on the potential of a uniquely American architectural style to capture and transcend the forces of capitalism that threatened, from his perspective, to doom art at every turn. In an address at a professional conference,Adler said: I realize how great is the privilege granted us [the members] in being part, not of a Renaissance, but of a naissance in architecture. For there is surely being born into our world a new style, the style of America, the style of the civilization of the nineteenth century, developed by its wants, its conditions and its limitations, and nurtured by the best there is in the lives of you whom I see before me and of your confreres in the East. The Taunt ‘who reads an American book?’ has long since been answered … Great and glorious as was the rise of American literature, the development of American architecture is still more wonderful. (Dankmar Adler,“The President’s Address at the Third Annual Convention of the Western Association of Architects,” Chicago, November 17, 1886. Dankmar Adler Papers,The Newberry Library. Chicago, IL) 25 See Sullivan, Autobiography, 310. See also David H. Crook,“Louis Sullivan and the Golden Doorway,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 26(4) (December 1967): pp. 250–8. 26 Kathryn Lofton, “Religious History as Religious Studies,” Religion 42(3) (2012): pp. 390–1. See also Richard H. Seager, The World’s Parliament of Religions: the East/West Encounter, Chicago, 1893 (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1995). 27 Alessandra Lorini, “The Racial Ideology of National Reconciliation at the International Expositions of Chicago (1893) and Atlanta (1895),” Cahiers Charles V 28 (2000): pp. 91–108; Lucy Maddox, Citizen Indians: Native American Intellectuals, Race, and Reform (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2005). For a transnational view of the 1893 Exposition, see John P. Burris, Exhibiting Religion: Colonialism and Spectacle at International Expositions, 1851–1893 (Charlottesville,VA: University Press of Virginia, 2001). On the Parliament of Religions see Justin Nordstrom,“Utopians at the Parliament:The World’s Parliament of Religions and the Columbian Exposition of 1893,” Journal of Religious History 33(3) (September 2009): pp. 348–65. 28 See Fannie Barrier Williams,“A Northern Negro’s Autobiography,” in Mary Jo Deegan, ed., The New Woman of Color:The Collected Writings of Fannie Barrier Williams, 1893–1918 (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2002), p. 6. Barrier originally wrote this autobiographical sketch in 1904. Also see, in the same volume,Williams, “The Woman’s Part in a Man’s Business,” p. 59. For an overview of her life, see the very thorough introduction by Mary Jo Deegan in the same volume. Also see Wanda A. Hendricks, Fannie Barrier Williams: Crossing the Borders of Region and Race (Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2014). 29 Ibid., pp. xxx, xxxviii. 30 Williams was later admitted to the prestigious Chicago Women’s Club as its first black member (Sarah L. Hart was its first Jewish admit, and might have remained the only Jewish admit at the time of Williams’s admission). For more on the social dynamics of the club and its place in the broader landscape of Chicago’s gendered commercial life, see Emily Remus, A Shopper’s Paradise: How the Ladies of Chicago Claimed Power and Pleasure in the New Downtown (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2019).

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Isaiah Ellis 31 Rev. John Henry Barrows, The World’s Parliament of Religions: An Illustrated and Popular Story of the World’s First Parliament of Religions, Held in Chicago in Connection with the Columbian Exposition of 1893, Vol. 1 (Chicago, IL: Parliament Publishing, 1893), p. 143. Special thanks to Brook Wilensky-Lanford for bringing these exchanges to my attention. 32 Barrows, p. 144. 33 Citation of Albion Small’s paper found in Barrows, 140. See also the Papers and Proceedings of the American Sociological Society,Vols. 1–13 (1905–1918). 34 Robert Park, “The City: Suggestions for the Investigation of Human Behavior in the Urban Environment,” in Robert Park and Ernest W. Burgess, eds, The City (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1967 [1925]), pp. 2, 6. 35 Wallace Best, Passionately Human, No Less Divine, pp. 71–74, pp. 94–117. For a generous interpretation of the Chicago School’s racial attitudes, see Mary Jo Deegan, Race, Hull House, and The University of Chicago: A New Conscience Against Ancient Evils (Westport, CT: Prager, 2002). 36 Park, “Magic, Mentality, and City Life,” in Park and Burgess, eds, The City, pp. 128–9.To see how the white magic of Reform played out in the black metropolis, see Ralph Luker, “Missions, Institutional Churches, and Settlement Houses: the Black Experience, 1885–1910,” The Journal of Negro History 69(4) (1984): pp. 101–13; Ralph Luker, The Social Gospel in Black and White (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1991); Louise W. Knight, Citizen: Jane Addams and the Struggle for Democracy (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 2005). To see how the “reformist impulse” plays out later in the twentieth century see Mark Wild, Renewal: Liberal Protestants and the American City After World War II (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 2019). 37 Jane Addams,“Hull House, Chicago:An Effort Towards Social Democracy,” Forum (October 1892): pp. 226–42. 38 Peter G. Mode, The Frontier Spirit in American Christianity (New York: Macmillan, 1923). 39 See, for example, Nathan Hatch, The Democratization of American Christianity (New Haven, CT:Yale University Press, 1984). His primary point of comparison between the English and United States context, in terms of Protestantism, is the incapacity of American government to effectively control religious change on its vast continent. 40 See for example Robert A. Orsi, ed., Gods of the City: Religion and the American Urban Landscape (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1999). 41 See Lowell W. Livezey,“The New Context of Urban Religion,” in Lowell W. Livezy, ed., Public Religion and Urban Transformation: Faith in the City (New York: New York University Press, 2000), pp. 6–8. See also Robert Wuthnow, The Restructuring of American Religion: Society and Religion since World War II (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1988). 42 On these three topics specifically see Judith Weisenfeld, New World a-Coming: Black Religion and Racial Identity during the Great Migration (New York: New York University Press, 2016); Timothy Gloege, Guaranteed Pure: The Moody Bible Institute, Business, and the Making of Modern Evangelicalism (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2016); Heath Carter, Union Made:Working People and the Rise of Social Christianity in Chicago (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015); Tomoko Masuzawa, The Invention of World Religions, Or, How European Universalism was Preserved in the Language of Pluralism (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 2005). 43 William Cronon, Nature’s Metropolis, 18. Statements such as this one earned Cronon’s book some scorn from critics, but they should fascinate religious historians for what they reveal about how cities emerge in the landscape of human emotion. See, for example, Peter Coclanis,“Urbs in Horto,” Reviews in American History 20(1) (March 1992): pp. 14–20. He argues there that Nature’s Metropolis, like Cronon’s earlier work, “lapses into (Birken) stock condemnations of accumulation, and Club of Rome-like denunciations of economic growth.”

Bibliography Baldwin, Daverian L. Chicago’s New Negroes: Modernity, the Great Migration, and Black Urban Life (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2009). Barrows, John Henry. The World’s Parliament of Religions: An Illustrated and Popular Story of the World’s First Parliament of Religions, Held in Chicago in Connection with the Columbian Exposition of 1893,Vol. 1 (Chicago: Parliament Publishing, 1893).

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Religion, culture, and urban space Best, Wallace. Passionately Human, No Less Divine: Religion and Culture in Black Chicago, 1915–1952 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005). Breitzer, Susan Roth. “Uneasy Alliances: Hull House, the Garment Workers Strikes, and the Jews of Chicago.” Indiana Magazine of History 106, No. 1 (2010): pp. 40–70. Brinkmann, Tobias. Sundays at Sinai:A Jewish Congregation in Chicago (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 2012). Burris, John P. Exhibiting Religion: Colonialism and Spectacle at International Exhibitions, 1851–1893 (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 2001). Byrne, Frank L. and Jean Powers Soman, eds, Your True Marcus:The Civil War Letters of a Jewish Colonel (Kent: Kent State University Press, 1985). Carter, Heath. Union Made:Working People and the Rise of Social Christianity in Chicago (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015). Clifton, James A. The Prairie People: Continuity and Change in Potawatomi Indian Culture, 1665–1965. Expanded Edn (Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1998). Conkin, Paul. Cane Ridge:America’s Pentecost (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1990). Cronon, William. Nature’s Metropolis: Chicago and the Great West (New York:W.W. Norton, 1992). Crook, David H. “Louis Sullivan and the Golden Doorway.” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 26, No. 4 (1967): pp. 250–8. Cross, Whitney. The Burned-Over District:The Social and Intellectual History of Enthusiastic Religion in Western New York, 1800–1850 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1950). Curry, Leonard P. The Free Black in Urban America, 1800–1850: The Shadow of the Dream (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1981). Deegan, Mary Jo, ed. The New Woman of Color:The Collected Writings of Fannie Barrier Williams, 1893–1918 (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2002). Diner, Hasia R. Roads Taken:The Great Jewish Migrations to the New World and the Peddlers Who Forged the Way (New Haven:Yale University Press, 2015). Drake, St. Clair and Horace Cayton. Black Metropolis:A Study of Negro Life in a Northern City. Revised and Enlarged Ed (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 1970). Farmer, Hannah.“Eve in the Renegade City: Elite Jewish Women’s Philanthropy in Chicago, 1890–1900” (Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Southampton, 2012). Foner, Eric. Gateway to Freedom:The Hidden History of America’s Fugitive Slaves (New York:W.W. Norton, 2015). Gaustad, Edwin S. and Leigh Eric Schmidt. The Religious History of America. Revised Edn (San Francisco: Harper San Francisco, 2002). Gellman, Erik S. Troublemakers: Chicago’s Freedom Struggles Through the Lens of Art Shay (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2020). Gloege, Timothy. Guaranteed Pure:The Moody Bible Institute, Business, and the Making of Modern Evangelicalism (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2016). Graber, Jennifer. The Gods of Indian Country: Religion and the Struggle for the American West (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018). Grunberger, Michael, ed. From Haven to Home: 350 Years of Jewish Life in America (Washington: Library of Congress, 2004). Gutstein, Morris. A Priceless Heritage:The Epic Growth of Nineteenth Century Chicago Jewry (New York: Bloch Publishing, Co., 1953). Hatch, Nathan. The Democratization of American Christianity (New Haven:Yale University Press, 1984). Hendricks, Wanda A. Fannie Barrier Williams: Crossing the Borders of Region and Race (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2014). Johnson, Paul. A Shopkeeper’s Millennium: Society and Revivals in Rochester, New York, 1815–1837 (New York: Hill and Wang, 1978). Kinzie, Juliette Augusta Magill. Narrative of the Massacre at Chicago, Saturday, August 15, 1812, and of Some Preceding Events (Chicago:William Ellis and Robert Fergus Job Printers, 1844). Larson, Erik. The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America (New York: Penguin Random House, 2003). Lewis, Lloyd and Henry Justin Smith. Chicago:The History of its Reputation (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Company, 1929). Livezey, Lowell W., ed. Public Religion and Urban Transformation: Faith in the City (New York: New York University Press, 2000).

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Isaiah Ellis Lofton, Kathryn.“Religious History as Religious Studies.” Religion 42, No. 3 (2012): pp. 383–94. Lorini, Alessandra. “The Racial Ideology of National Reconciliation at the International Expositions of Chicago (1893) and Atlanta (1895).” Cahiers Charles V 28 (2000): pp. 91–108. Luker, Ralph. “Missions, Institutional Churches, and Settlement Houses: The Black Experience, 1885– 1910.” The Journal of Negro History 69, No. 4 (1984): pp. 101–13. Luker, Ralph. The Social Gospel in Black and White (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1991). Maddox, Lucy. Citizen Indians: Native American Intellectuals, Race, and Reform (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2005). Masuzawa, Tomoko. The Invention of World Religions, Or, How European Universalism was Preserved in the Language of Pluralism (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 2005). McDonald, Michael A. Masters of Empire: Great Lakes Indians and the Making of America (New York: Hill & Wang, 2015). Miller, Donald L. City of the Century:The Epic of Chicago and the Making of America (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996). Mode, Peter G. The Frontier Spirit in American Christianity (New York: Macmillan, 1923). Morrissey, Robert Michael. Empire by Collaboration: Indians, Colonists, and Governments in Colonial Illinois Country (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015). Nordstrom, Justin. “Utopians at the Parliament:The World’s Parliament of Religions and the Columbian Exposition of 1893.” Journal of Religious History 33, No. 3 (2009): pp. 348–65. Orsi, Robert A., ed., Gods of the City: Religion and the American Urban Landscape (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999). Park, Robert and Ernest W. Burgess, eds, The City (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 1967). Quaife, Milo Milton. Checagou (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 1933). Reed, Christopher Robert. Black Chicago’s First Century: Vol. I, 1833–1900 (Columbia, MO: University of Missouri Press, 2005). Remus, Emily. A Shopper’s Paradise: How the Ladies of Chicago Claimed Power and Pleasure in the New Downtown (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2019). Sullivan, Louis. Autobiography of an Idea (New York: Dover, 1956). Trotter, Jr., Joe William. Workers on Arrival: Black Labor in the Making of America (Oakland: University of California Press, 2019). Wild, Mark. Renewal: Liberal Protestants and the American City after World War II (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 2019). Wuthnow, Robert. The Restructuring of American Religion: Society and Religion since World War II (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988).

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9 FAITH IN THE SUBURBS Evangelical Christian books about suburban life Brian J. Miller1

Introduction In 1961,The University of Chicago professor Gibson Winter published a book titled The Suburban Captivity of the Churches: An Analysis of Protestant Responsibility in the Expanding Metropolis. With postwar suburbanization well underway,Winter criticized the move of mainline Protestants out of the city:“The churches entered a period of suburban captivity, deserted the central city and aligned themselves with the status panic, becoming mere refuges for the fleeing middle classes.”2 Gibson’s commentary built on earlier concerns regarding religion in the suburbs and was not the only book on the topic from the time period.3 For example, Christian Century noted the “sense of self-satisfaction” present in suburban churches and asked whether they were “parasite communities.”4 Catholic priest and sociologist Andrew Greeley published The Church and the Suburbs in 1959, and United Methodist minister and sociologist Frederick Shippey published Protestantism in Suburban Life in 1964.5 As religious adherents and congregations spread throughout metropolitan regions and transformed religious landscapes,6 how Christians could live out a vibrant faith amid the comfort and pressures of suburbia as well as exercise their responsibilities within metropolitan regions became recurring questions. Today, many American Christians, including white evangelicals, live in suburbs. After multiple decades of suburban growth, just over 50% of all Americans reside in suburbs,7 and these communities outside cities are home to numerous churches and Christian organizations. It is easy for scholars to paint the evangelical movement as largely suburban and both religiously and politically conservative.8 Imagine a typical white evangelical, and the image in mind is likely to be of a person living in a suburb or small town (and these two places may be indistinguishable for some Americans).9 With evangelicals and other Christians firmly established in the suburbs, seven books written by evangelicals between 2003 and 2018, printed by evangelical publishers, and intended for an evangelical audience reveal how conservative Protestants view suburban life in the early decades of the twenty-first century. Their titles clearly address the suburban context: Sidewalks in the Kingdom, The Jesus of Suburbia, The Suburban Christian, Death by Suburb, Justice in the Burbs, Suburbianity, and Finding Holy in the Suburbs.10 Three of the seven directly address living different suburban lives as Christians, three use the suburbs as a shorthand for understanding common

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American issues or broader American society, and one uses the suburbs as a foil to promote New Urbanist living in a small big city. More broadly, these texts ask how evangelicals see the relationship between faith and place, and the connections between cities and suburbs.With life in the suburbs now well established among generations of evangelicals, these texts suggest evangelicals should view suburbs as an important and unique mission field or vocational setting, yet their solutions to suburban life do not fully acknowledge the structural realities of suburbs or consider “the moral responsibility of those with resources toward those without them.”11

Evangelicals in the American suburbs The issues raised by these seven texts rest on a set of historical and social forces that led to white evangelicals living in the suburbs.While suburbs have deep roots in American society, the quick growth of automobile-dependent mass suburbia in the decades after World War II12 coincided with an uptick in religiosity in the United States.13 American evangelicals have a history of antiurban bias14 within a country with strong anti-urban ideologies,15 even with the occasional positive re-emphasis on urban life among evangelicals.16 From English abolitionist and evangelical William Wilberforce moving out of corrupting London in the late 1700s,17 to the post-World War II religious revival and movement of religious groups to the suburbs,18 to Christianity Today leaving Washington DC, a move that, according to the New York Times, included “some talk of getting out of the amoral urban setting, into the real America,”19 evangelicals often eschew large cities, particularly those on the coasts. Connected to anti-urban bias is the aspect of changing populations of major American cities. With the influx of African American residents to cities in the Northeast and Midwest in the twentieth century, government policies that provided suburban opportunities for whites, and substantial residential segregation, whites left cities for suburbs.20 Some religious groups found it easier than others to move to the suburbs, such as those less tied to sacred places21 or those within less hierarchical Protestant denominations.22 Congregations might try to stay within changing neighborhoods, citing the ministry needs and a connection to the community, but leave after finding theological justification to follow congregants to the suburbs.23 In the Chicago and Indianapolis regions, a wide variety of congregations moved to the suburbs as communities changed populations and suburbanization gained steam.24 In addition to anti-urban views and moving to the suburbs to avoid changing urban populations, particularly growing black populations, a third factor connecting evangelicals to suburbs involves the cultural affinities between evangelical life and suburban culture.With the American suburbs emphasizing nuclear family life,25 individualism, private spaces,26 and middle-class meritocracy,27 evangelicals fit right in with emphases on individual religious experiences,28 colorblind approaches to race and ethnicity that emphasize the actions of prejudiced or self-interested individuals and overlook or deny structural reasons for disparate outcomes across racial and ethnic groups,29 a high regard for family life,30 and populism.31 Some evangelical congregations have thrived in suburbs by appealing to cars and middle-class whites32 or post-suburban settings where a single congregation can span an entire metropolitan region with hundreds of small groups and numerous worship services.33

Key themes of the texts The seven evangelical books contain similar themes regarding the issues suburbs present to evangelical Christians. Furthermore, these books suggest multiple common solutions to leading a richer or deeper Christian suburban life. 120

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These texts do not insist suburbanites must go to cities, rural areas, or foreign locations to serve God fully. Instead, six of the seven authors want evangelicals to advance God’s kingdom within their suburban contexts. Indeed, God’s kingdom could even thrive in the suburbs. Hales sums up this perspective: The suburbs—like any place—exhibit both the goodness of God’s creative acts (in desiring to foster community, beauty, rest, hospitality, family) and sin (in focusing on image, materialism, and individualism to the exclusion of others).We cannot be quick to dismiss the suburbs out of hand.34 The one book advocating urban life—Jacobsen’s Sidewalks in the Kingdom—draws upon experiences in the small big city of Missoula, Montana (population just over 70,000) and promotes New Urbanist principles of urban planning that also could apply to suburban settings.35 If evangelical Christians can stay in the suburbs and may even feel called to suburban living, these authors argue evangelicals should not ignore their mission.As Goetz argues repeatedly, it is easy to succumb to the thinner life rather than seeking the thicker life that God desires for his followers.36 Moreover, all the authors suggest the American Dream is alluring with its promises of a home, family, and success. Yawn says, “I expect that most suburban Christians are like me, struggling to tell the difference between what is generally American and what is actually Christian.”37 Hales warns of the “happy ending” chased after in the suburbs: “When we cement over the cracks of sin in our hearts, lives, and neighborhoods, we cannot experience shalom in the suburbs.”38 Erre suggests this confusion can go further: “In short, much of the message of American Christianity presents Jesus as the purveyor of the American Dream.”39 Yet, the books argue, the suburban Christian cannot simply go with the cultural flow—they must daily attune themselves to God’s desires for the suburbs rather than their own personal aspirations.To still live in the suburbs, yet stay awake to God’s activity, these authors collectively prescribe two solutions: 1) spiritual practices and disciplines; and 2) clearer doctrine and understandings of who humans are.Two of the books in particular emphasize spiritual disciplines. In each chapter, Goetz discusses an element of the toxic suburban environment and then prescribes a spiritual discipline in response.40 Similarly, Hales discusses hungers present in the suburbs and then suggests Christian counter-liturgies and practices at the conclusion of each chapter to sate those hungers. These practices would refocus attention on God and neighbor, rather than the pursuit of suburban success and goods. In contrast to spiritual disciplines, the other authors point to Biblical truths and better understandings of the Christian faith. Jacobsen reminds readers of the Biblical path from garden to city.41 If Christians are going to end up in a city, why not work for their welfare now? Yawn provides a list of statements supported by Bible passages at the beginning and end of his text that refute maxims of Christian life in the American suburbs.42 Erre, Hsu, and Samson and Samson ask suburban Christians to live up to their callings as people who should be devoted the good of others and the flourishing of communities.43 Across these books, the authors find some agreement about what virtues suburban conservative Protestants should practice. Hospitality is a common theme. While suburbanites generally follow a “moral minimalism” where community develops by leaving each other to their private realms,44 the discussions of hospitality ask suburban Christian to expand their thoughts and actions beyond their single-family home and practice generosity and involvement with community life. Instead of hoarding goods (exhibited in ever-larger single-family homes, nice vehicles, vacations, and more), suburban Christians should share and give away.The single-family home 121

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is a place to start as residents can welcome others for food and fellowship and build lasting relationships within the most comfortable and vulnerable suburban context. These books suggest the calls for spiritual activity and better understandings of religious doctrine are enhanced by a grounding in Christian tradition as opposed to floating along with the relative newness of and the totalizing nature of suburbia. The American suburbs in their current form are roughly 100 years old—American suburban life began in the mid-1800s with the advent of railroads and streetcars yet did not take off into a form recognizable today until the widespread acquisition of automobiles45—and are not guaranteed to last forever. In other words, Christians over the centuries, let alone the writers and characters of the Bible, had little to no experience with modern suburbs, and their experiences and truths transcend suburbia and other locations as well. Furthermore, the suburban lifestyle built around single-family homes, driving, and individual success can trap participants into thinking that this is the only way life can be lived. Samson and Samson present an alternative in a concluding section titled “A Final Blessing”: By choosing to live justly in the suburbs, or in the city, or in the country—wherever God has led you—you are choosing to join with a whole line of people who, in their time, have sought be faithful followers of God in the way of Jesus.46 The regular appeals in these texts to Christian writings and tradition hint at a need suburbanites have to find a rootedness or home in the suburbs. Hales might be the most explicit about this: ‘We make our home by stories,’ it’s said that author Flannery O’Connor wrote. In my move to the suburbs, I knew I needed a new story to bring me back home. Daily, I need a new narrative to help me find both the holy in the suburbs and a story bigger and better than my cul-de-sac.47 The other authors also discuss this. Americans are privatistic and geographically mobile in the postwar suburban era (though less so in recent years),48 leading to difficulties developing community or even an understanding of the local community. If suburban evangelicals are also likely to be transient, they can at least root themselves in the Christian church and tradition that speaks across centuries and contexts. Similarly, all of these books ask American Christians to counter the false narrative that the American Dream will provide fulfillment in life. These authors all suggest that this chasing of the American (suburban) Dream is ultimately not satisfying. It is hollow, incomplete, and perhaps impossible to truly achieve.Yawn explains the struggle: I’ve come to realize over many years as a pastor in the suburbs that American ideals and Jesus’s teachings are locked in a constant battle for my devotion. Our hearts suffer the invariable upheaval of unrelenting coups. My Christian faith is forever being overthrown by my adoration of the American dream. I battle to pry the American part of me off of the Christian part of me.The suburbs wreak havoc on the Christian faith.They affect every essential aspect of Christianity, including how I understand the gospel, read my Bible, and view the church.49 This is not an easy task, as all of the authors acknowledge.The allure of the American suburbs is strong as it offers an attractive alternative to God’s calling.As one South African pastor put it, “The suburbs are essentially an attempt to create an alternate Kingdom.”50 122

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This pursuit of the American Dream requires a devotion to individualism and consumerism, themes multiple texts address. The individualism promoted in suburbs, illustrated by limited social ties and individual suburbanites looking to acquire status symbols, is antithetical to Christian understandings of community and often limits spiritual growth and practices. The authors argue the acquisition of goods, including large homes, nice cars, and opportunities for children, for the purposes of finding fulfillment in acquiring them or in order to compare favorably to others—with Goetz arguing evangelicals should pursue “mortality symbols” rather than the concept of “immortality symbols” from psychologist Ernest Becker51—is not worthwhile. Samson and Samson explicitly connect consumerism to environmental degradation; pursuing goods and using too many resources will hurt others in God’s creation.52 These evangelical authors agree individualism and consumerism fail to deliver what, they argue, God offers. Finally, these books ask suburban evangelicals to expand their views of the suburbs as well as of those who live in the suburbs.To start, this requires looking beyond the walls of one’s own single-family home and the relationships of the nuclear family.At a minimum, suburban people of faith should know their neighbors and participate in a congregation involved in the community. Several of the texts, such as Justice in the Burbs and Sidewalks in the Kingdom, are more explicit about expanding the scope of social relations beyond neighborhood and church, and advocate for joining in local causes, sharing the burdens of others, and helping to improve the life of the larger community. According to these texts, suburban Christians should be able to see God at work in a broader context beyond their immediate family and home. Together, the authors generally agree evangelicals need to pay attention to where they live; a fuller Christian life in the suburbs requires further community interactions and perspective on how they can understand God is working in the suburbs.

Missing aspects of suburban life These seven books addressing evangelical life in the suburbs have several notable deficiencies. Underlying their exhortations are multiple issues, including not fully grappling with the deeper social structures of suburbs (such as the class-based, racialized, and gendered ways in which suburbs developed and exist today). Furthermore, the authors pay limited attention to participating in and leveraging suburban institutions.With the authors involved in churches, ministries, and evangelical organizations, and writing largely for evangelical audiences, the texts present particular points of view even as they are searching for a more robust theology connecting faith and place. These seven texts exhibit varying levels of sophistication regarding their understanding of what made American suburbs what they are today. Jacobsen and Hsu contain the most references to scholarly work on the suburbs and community.53 In the final chapter, Hsu combines an evangelical emphasis on sharing faith with participating in structures:“While we must never neglect the significant of evangelizing individuals, equally important is transforming societal, organizational and municipal structures.”54 The rest more briefly address structural underpinnings to suburbia. A lack of understanding of how the American suburbs came to be or what sustains them might be the result of evangelicals’ anti-intellectualism55 and emphasis on individual actions,56 but this leaves a sizable blind spot in not accounting for more systemic practices in both suburban and evangelical life. In at least three areas, these seven texts do not adequately address structural issues. First, there is an over-emphasis on private space in the suburbs. These private spaces and related activities, ranging from single-family homes and an emphasis on driving to limited community interactions, anchor suburban life.Acquiring the private “good life” in the suburbs57 is a goal of 123

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many Americans.58 Jacobsen makes the most direct case against a private suburbia with a call for Christians to utilize the principles of New Urbanism to redesign the physical structure of communities.59 New Urbanists argue the suburban life might provide Americans with the best private realm in the world, yet the physical arrangement of space is impoverishing for community life. Build neighborhoods in a more traditional style—marked by walkability, mixed uses, a broader range of housing options and incomes, homes closer to the street—and community is more likely to develop.60 The other authors say little about physical design and instead focus on solutions like offering hospitality. While this could help build relationships, hospitality based on inviting people into a single-family home and then separating again may not be able to go far enough to erase the private structures of suburbia and the preference to leave each other alone.61 There are limitations in many places on creating more density in suburban neighborhoods, such as zoning that tends to protect single-family homes, and a cultural emphasis on seeing single-family homes as an investment to protect.62 This makes moving beyond hospitality into meaningful and sustained interaction more difficult. The privacy of suburbia relates to another issue that receives limited attention in these books. Why did Americans seek such privacy? They were often looking to escape the “other,” including people of different racial and ethnic groups as well as lower social classes. From the suburban beginnings in the mid-1800s,63 whites segregated suburbs with blacks relegated to their own communities.64 During the development of mass suburbia from the early 1900s onward, government policies and cultural ideologies promoting suburbanization and homeownership systemically excluded black and other minority residents utilizing multiple tools, including redlining, blockbusting, restrictive covenants and deeds, and violence.65 After a series of court cases and the 1968 Housing Act made housing discrimination by race and ethnicity illegal, suburbs resorted to other options to keep out “less desirable” residents, including a lack of enforcement of housing laws, exclusionary zoning practices, limiting certain kinds of development, and not welcoming new religious groups.66 While the non-white population of the suburbs has increased significantly in recent decades, and a sizable minority of immigrants to the United States move directly to the suburbs,67 different racial and ethnic groups do not necessarily live near each other in the suburbs.The suburbs did not develop as places available to all and this continues to be the case. Hsu has the most explicit discussions of race and ethnicity while the others either touch on it briefly or say little.68 The racialized nature of suburbia may be difficult for many white evangelicals to acknowledge.White evangelicals as a whole either cannot see or refuse to see structural components of race in the United States, particularly compared to their black evangelical counterparts who share many theological beliefs. When asked why disparities exist between racial groups, white evangelicals tend to explain the differences in terms of personal motivation and not taking advantage of opportunities rather than structural obstacles.69 More broadly, in the wake of the Civil Rights Movement and the 1968 Housing Act, white suburbanites downplayed racial motivations, instead emphasizing economic arguments and personal agency to explain disparate access to communities.70 Related to ongoing issues of race and ethnicity, these texts (outside of Hsu) say little about social class, a social force closely tied in the United States to race and ethnicity, as well as the formation of the suburbs (and a primary emphasis of Winter though Fishman provides a reminder of the more rural and fundamentalist roots of suburban evangelical Christianity).71 From the beginning of suburbs, those with more financial resources have sought to live in wealthier communities.This is particularly clear in levels of wealth and homeownership:72 accessing nicer suburbs with higher property values, higher performing school districts, lower levels of crime, and numerous family friendly amenities require certain resources. 124

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Hospitality in private homes as well as congregations open to all could help address these issues. However, hospitality is often extended to people in geographic proximity or within existing social networks. Whites have social networks that are 91% white, on average.73 While the number of multiracial churches in the United States has increased (12% of Protestant congregations were multiracial in 2012 compared to 6.4% in 1998), roughly four of five church attendees go to a congregation where one racial or ethnic group makes up 80% or more of the congregation.74 Together, race and class combine to stratify American metropolitan regions and congregations alike, echoing Winter’s fears.75 Additionally, these books sidestep issues of gender in the suburbs, even though gender has figured prominently from the beginning of evangelicals’ involvement in suburbs. Historian Robert Fishman explains how English evangelicals saw the city as “not just crowded, dirty, and unhealthy; it was immoral” and developed a solution in suburban life with women and children in homes with the husband traveling back and forth to London.76 Even as women have increasingly joined the workforce in recent decades, they often continue to bear the burden of caring for the family and children.Today’s evangelicals can emphasize women’s responsibility of caring for the family even as women regularly work outside the home.77 All of this comes to a head in the suburbs, the context both regarded by many as the best for children and also a starting point for the feminist movement, as Betty Frieden wrote from her suburban experiences.78 That men and women have different suburban experiences is not considered deeply here. A third missing structural facet of these texts involves a lack of advice and attention devoted to contributing to and working through suburban institutions. Jacobsen discusses getting involved in urban planning at the community level and joining the New Urbanist movement.79 Hales, Hsu, and Samson and Samson suggest suburban evangelicals should work for suburban shalom.80 Yet, many of the proposed changes in the texts involve individuals, nuclear families and some interaction with neighbors, neighborhoods, and churches. That evangelicals should focus on personal actions and work out from there, influencing society from “the bottom up,” is a common point of emphasis.81 The evangelist Billy Graham suggested social change begins with changed individual human hearts, which can then change families and broader groups.82 Similarly, evangelical author Andy Crouch promotes creating and sharing culture by starting within small circles of influence.83 Ignoring or downplaying the role of institutions and structures compared to emphasizing individual piety may be a hallmark of American evangelicals,84 but it downplays the role of powerful social forces shaping suburbia. These small-scale approaches fail to either note the importance of organizations or leverage powerful groups already operating in communities. For example, school districts teach and socialize children, support property values (and benefit from property taxes connected to those same values), have the ability to bring together numerous members of a community, and can exclude others.85 With the common American emphases on the power of education to transform lives and provide economic mobility, as well as improve property values and ensure a positive quality of life, local school systems provide unique opportunities for evangelicals and others to support the common good (instead of focusing on restoring prayer in school86 or promoting homeschooling with estimates that evangelicals comprise roughly 80% of American homeschooled students).87 Similarly, people of faith could work through or with local governments that provide goods and values for a broad range of neighbors. Suburban evangelicals could volunteer for local boards and commissions or run for local offices with a goal of welcoming others and utilizing local resources for all. Suburban congregations could also do much more in terms of addressing community needs. Much congregational activity focuses on building up attendees and the religious community.A majority of American congregations do contribute to human or social services, particularly regarding providing food and small teams of volunteers to 125

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address particular needs.88 Yet evangelical congregations could do more in areas like providing housing, creating jobs, and meeting community needs related to incarceration, addiction, mental health, and immigration. The particular background of the authors and their intended audience may contribute to the blind spots of these texts regarding suburbs.The authors are often in careers in ministry or evangelical organizations and the books indicate they want to engage society.89 The authors are educated, largely white (seven of eight authors), and mostly male (two of eight are female). Evangelical publishing houses, which helped develop and then participated in a largely white evangelical book culture in the twentieth century,90 produced these seven texts. Their experiences may reflect a subset of American suburban experiences but say little about increasing non-white and poorer suburban populations.While Shippey noted the changing demographics of suburbs91 and the suburbs on the whole become increasingly non-white and poorer through the early decades of the twenty-first century (though there could be demographic differences within metropolitan regions, such as between suburbs closer to cities and those on the exurban edges),92 evangelical voices from these suburbanites are limited. At their worst, these texts could be an exercise in privileged suburbanites rationalizing their own behavior. They want to find ways to be more Christian while still living in single-family homes within communities with a high quality of life.The struggling suburban worker in the service industry or navigating the gig economy, the immigrant family, the resident looking for decent yet affordable housing—their stories are not here. At their best, these are suburban evangelicals who recognize some of the same issues raised by the postwar suburban jeremiads: they are caught in an environment that attempts to pull them away from God and neighbor through comfort and self-centeredness.These books are a gentle wake-up call for numerous suburban evangelical Christians who buy into the American Dream more than they do a life of sacrificial faith. Several of the texts include discussion questions or a reading guide at the end to help individuals or small groups continue a conversation.Addressing race and class may not be optimal or palatable for white evangelical audiences who can struggle to read these as gospel issues as opposed to American political battles. Instead, poking at the tensions between Christian faith and American suburban life could prompt needed reflection and action. Finally, these texts generally argue that suburban life is worth addressing and that residents can live faithful evangelical lives there.Yet, these texts each try to provide a new answer to the same question: what is the relationship between evangelical faith and particular places? How do places affect faith and vice versa? Overall, American evangelicals have a fraught relationship with particular places. On one hand, evangelicals should be willing to go anywhere to spread their faith. On the other hand, evangelicals have largely rejected American big cities in favor of suburbs and areas that are more rural.When given a choice in the United States, many evangelicals have gravitated to particular locations, even as they might suggest God’s word and activity is needed everywhere.93 Historians and social scientists argue certain traits and theologies of religious groups can help tie congregations to a location, including seeing church space as sacred94 and hierarchical denominational structures.95 Yet, often operating in independent congregations and working with a theological perspective that looks forward to heaven as the ultimate place, evangelicals have little to tie them to particular communities. A key source for all seven books are Biblical texts, stories, and themes, consistent with evangelicalism’s emphasis on the Bible as an authoritative source.96 Suburbianity regularly quotes the Bible, while other books draw on Bible passages, Christian themes, and evangelical theological works.97 The texts differ on how much they draw on outside sources, with a range spanning from 5 footnotes (all evangelical texts) in Suburbianity to over 200 footnotes, a number of them 126

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referencing scholarly texts, in The Suburban Christian. However, these seven books do not draw heavily upon works from Christian theologians and leaders that directly address the connection between faith and place98Across these texts, the theologians and pastors emphasize different connections between faith and place: viewing land as a gift from God, addressing the politics of land, seeing land as sacrament, and considering the emplacement of faith. Drawing upon a range of Biblical texts and evangelical books, but not theological resources that directly address the issues at hand, these seven suburban texts all struggle to connect an individualistic faith with a communal and spatialized existence.

Conclusion These seven texts addressing evangelical life in the suburbs continue a conversation begun in the postwar era about how to connect faith with urban and suburban life.While numerous religious groups have considered how to practice faith in the suburbs,99 the seven books examined here show how evangelical Protestants think about these issues at the start of the twenty-first century. Now firmly established in suburban settings, these books suggest evangelicals can stay in suburbs and live a vibrant faith if they wake up from the suburban dream and become more serious about their faith. Drawing from the suggestions of the seven books, an evangelical suburbanite could practice a number of spiritual disciplines, build relationships with neighbors, and have some commitment to a congregation.Yet, the ongoing emphasis on faith lived out as individuals, in neighborhoods, and in congregations restricts the ability of evangelical Protestants to engage fully with their contexts or address issues of injustice such as residential segregation and differential access to capital and resources across suburban locations.The recommendations for evangelicals in these texts do not push them to be involved with suburban institutions or consider institutions—such as local religious congregations, school districts, or municipal governments—as critical actors or influences within suburban settings. Thus, these books suggest evangelicals acknowledge only part of suburban life. Even as they might embrace the notions that suburbanites “could maintain a home life attuned to the tranquility, beauty, and purity of nature and where families could thrive safely removed from the urban ills threatening the health and morals of youth,”100 the American suburbs are not solely about privacy, nature, or successful family life. The suburbs are built on a foundation, and still often operate today, in a way that works to keep others out of neighborhoods.These texts present limited perspectives of suburbanites outside of white, educated, ministry-oriented evangelicals.The questions raised by the suburban jeremiads of the 1950s and 1960s101 are still prescient today: are suburban churches pursuing good on the level of the whole community and metropolitan region? Are suburban evangelicals addressing structural issues facing their neighbors such as discrimination, alienation, loneliness, underemployment, anxiety about status, and finding the American Dream lacking? Addressing the multiple dimensions of suburban life, from the individual to the structural, from the local community and congregation to the metropolitan region, from private spaces to broader conceptions of shared place, from hospitality in single-family homes to work with local institutions, would require deeper analysis and action by evangelical Protestants who desire to shape and influence society, even the suburbs.

Notes 1 The author thanks the Opus Vocation Scholars program leaders and participants at Wheaton College for funding and helpful feedback. 2 Gibson Winter, The Suburban Captivity of the Churches: An Analysis of Protestant Responsibility in the Expanding Metropolis (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1961), p. 34.

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Brian J. Miller 3 Charles H. Heimsath, “Asleep in a Suburban Zion.” Christian Century, November 15, 1939, 1407– 1409.; Simeon Stylites, “‘Satan in the Suburbs,’” Christian Century, November 26, 1952, 1375; James Hudnut-Beumler, Looking For God in the Suburbs: The Religion of the American Dream and Its Critics, 1945–1965 (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1994), pp. 183–184. 4 Christian Century, “Great Churches of America III The First Church of Christ (Congregational), West Hartford, CT.” March 1950, p. 362. 5 Andrew M. Greeley, The Church and the Suburbs (Glen Rock, NJ: Deus Books, 1959); Frederick A. Shippey, Protestantism in Suburban Life (New York:Abingdon Press, 1964). 6 Etan Diamond, Souls of the City: Religion and the Search for Community in Postwar America (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2003); Brian J. Miller, “Growing Suburbs, Relocating Churches: The Suburbanization of Protestant Churches in the Chicago Region, 1925–1990,” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 56, No. 2 (2017): pp. 342–64. 7 In 1950, 23.3% of Americans lived in suburbs. US Census Bureau,“Demographic Trends in the 20th Century,” 2002, www.census.gov/prod/2002pubs/censr-4.pdf. 8 For example, see: Lisa McGirr, Suburban Warriors: The Origins of the New American Right (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001); H.B. Cavalcanti, Gloryland: Christian Suburbia, Christian Nation (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2007); Eileen Luhr, Witnessing Suburbia: Conservatives and Christian Youth Culture (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2009). 9 Brian J. Miller,“Measuring Religion in Different Spatial Contexts: How Surveys Involving Religion Inconsistently Determine Locations,” Review of Religious Research 58, No. 2 (2016): pp. 285–304. 10 The seven books have eight authors (one book was authored by a husband and wife). At the time of writing, three authors served as pastors, one worked in Christian publishing, and one ran a marketing firm after previously working in Christian journalism, one holds an English Ph.D. and is a pastor’s wife, and the husband-and-wife team includes a sociology Ph.D. student and a Christian author. Seven of the eight authors appear to be white. Eric O. Jacobsen, Sidewalks in the Kingdom: New Urbanism and the Christian Faith (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2003); Mike Erre, The Jesus of Suburbia (Nashville, TN: W Publishing Group, 2006); Albert Y. Hsu, The Suburban Christian: Finding Spiritual Vitality in the Land of Plenty (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2006); David L. Goetz, Death By Suburb: How to Keep the Suburbs From Killing Your Soul (San Francisco, CA: HarperCollins, 2006); Will Samson and Lisa Samson, Justice in the Burbs: Being the Hands of Jesus Wherever You Live (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 2007); Byron Forrest Yawn, Suburbanity (Eugene, OR: Harvest House Publishers, 2013); Ashley Hales, Finding Holy in the Suburbs: Living Faithfully in the Land of Too Much (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2018). 11 Hudnut-Beumler, Looking for God in the Suburbs, p. 207. 12 Kenneth T. Jackson, Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985); Robert Fishman, Bourgeois Utopias:The Rise and Fall of Suburbia (New York: Basic Books, 1987); Dolores Hayden, Building Suburbia: Green Fields and Urban Growth, 1820–2000 (New York:Vintage Books, 2003); John Archer, Architecture and Suburbia: From English Villa to American Dream House, 1690–2000 (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2005); Jon C. Teaford, The American Suburb:The Basics (New York: Routledge, 2008). 13 Roger Finke and Rodney Stark, The Churching of America, 1776–2005: Winners and Losers in our Religious Economy (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2005); Hudnut-Beumler, Looking for God in the Suburbs. 14 Mark T. Mulder and James K.A. Smith,“Subdivided by Faith? An Historical Account of Evangelicals and the City,” Christian Scholars Review 38, No. 4 (2009): pp. 415–34.; Omri Elisha,“Taking the (Inner) City for God: Ambiguities of Urban Social Engagement Among Conservative White Evangelicals,” in The Fundamentalist City: Religion and Urbanism in the New Global Order, eds, Nezar AlSayyad and Mejgan Massoumi (New York: Routledge, 2011). 15 Stephen Conn, Americans Against the City: Anti-Urbanism in the Twentieth Century (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014); Morton White and Lucia White, The Intellectual Versus the City: From Thomas Jefferson to Frank Lloyd Wright (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1962). 16 For example, see: Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2006); James S. Bielo, “Purity, Danger, and Redemption: Notes on Urban Missional Evangelicals,” American Ethnologist 38, No. 2 (2011): pp. 267–80; James S. Bielo, “City of Man, City of God:The Re-Urbanization of American Evangelicals,” City & Society 23, No. S1 (2011): pp. 2–23. 17 Fishman, Bourgeois Utopias.

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Faith in the suburbs 18 Hudnut-Beumler, Looking for God in the Suburbs. 19 George Vescey, “Chicago Suburb Is ‘Vatican of Evangelicals’: A Corporate ‘Christian Ghetto,’” New York Times, July 21, 1978,A10. 20 Arnold R. Hirsch, Making the Second Ghetto: Race and Housing in Chicago, 1940–1960 (Cambridge: New York: Cambridge University Press, 1983); Douglas S. Massey and Nancy A. Denton, American Apartheid: Segregation and the Making of the Underclass (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993);Thomas Sugrue, The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996); Kevin M. Kruse, White Flight:Atlanta and the Making of Modern Conservatism (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2006); Isabel Wilkerson, The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration (New York: Random House, 2010); Richard Rothstein, The Color of Law:A Forgotten History of How Our Government Segregated America (New York: Liveright, 2017). 21 Gerald Gamm, Urban Exodus:Why the Jews Left Boston and the Catholics Stayed (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999); Etan Diamond, And I Will Dwell in Their Midst: Orthodox Jews in Suburbia (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2000). 22 Mark T. Mulder, Shades of White Flight: Evangelical Congregations and Urban Departure (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2015). 23 Darren Dochuk, “‘Praying for a Wicked City’: Congregation, Community and the Suburbanization of Fundamentalism,” Religious and American Culture: A Journal of Interpretation 13, No. 2 (2003): pp. 167–203. 24 Diamond, Souls of the City; Miller,“Growing Suburbs, Relocating Churches.” 25 John R. Seeley, R. Alexander Sim, and Elizabeth W. Loosley, Crestwood Heights: A Study of the Culture of Suburban Life (New York: Basic Books, 1956); Margaret Marsh, Suburban Lives (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1990); Dennison Nash, “A Little Child Shall Lead Them: A Statistical Test of an Hypothesis that Children Were the Source of the American ‘Religious Revival.’” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 7, No. 2 (1968): pp. 238–40.; Dennison Nash and Peter L. Berger,“The Child, the Family, and the ‘Religious Revival’ in Suburbia,” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 2, No. 1 (1962): pp. 85–93. 26 M.P. Baumgartner, The Moral Order of a Suburb (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988); Andres Duany, Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk, and Jeff Speck, Suburban Nation:The Rise of Sprawl and the Decline of the American Dream (New York: North Point Press, 2000); Setha Low, Behind the Gates: Life, Security, and the Pursuit of Happiness in Fortress America (New York: Routledge, 2003); Archer, Architecture and Suburbia. 27 Bennett M. Berger, Working-Class Suburb:A Study of Auto Workers in Suburbia (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1960). 28 D.W. Bebbington, Evangelicalism in Modern Britain:A History from the 1730s to the 1980s (Boston, MA: Unwin Hyman, 1989). 29 Michael O. Emerson and Christian Smith, Divided By Faith: Evangelical Religion and the Problem of Race in America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), pp. 69–92. 30 W. Bradford Wilcox,“How Focused on the Family? Evangelical Protestants, the Family, and Sexuality,” in Evangelicals and Democracy in America –Volume 1: Religion and Society, eds, Steven Brint and Jean Reith Schroedel (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2009), pp. 251–75. 31 Nathan O. Hatch, The Democratization of American Christianity (New Haven, CT:Yale University Press, 1989), p. 219. 32 Mark Mulder and Gerardo Martí, The Glass Church: Robert H. Schuller, the Crystal Cathedral, and the Strain of Megachurch Ministry (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2020). 33 Justin G. Wilford, Sacred Subdivisions:The Postsuburban Transformation of American Evangelicalism (New York: New York University Press, 2012). 34 Hales, Finding Holy in the Suburbs, p. 8. 35 Jacobsen, Sidewalks in the Kingdom. 36 Goetz, Death By Suburb. 37 Yawn, Suburbianity, p. 11. 38 Hales, Finding Holy in the Suburbs, p. 166. 39 Erre, The Jesus of Suburbia, p. xiv. 40 Goetz, Death By Suburb. 41 Jacobsen, Sidewalks in the Kingdom. 42 Yawn, Suburbanity.

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Erre, The Jesus of Suburbia; Hsu, The Suburban Christian; Samson and Samson, Justice in the Burbs. Baumgartner, The Moral Order of a Suburb. Hayden, Building Suburbia; Jackson, Crabgrass Frontier. Samson and Samson, Justice in the Burbs, p. 195. Hales, Finding Holy in the Suburbs, p. 9. US Census Bureau, “Moving in America,” 2016, www.census.gov/library/visualizations/2016/ comm/cb16-189_migration.html. Yawn, Suburbianity, p. 10. Rosslester, “My Life as a Suburban Church Planter,” 2017, https://rosslester.com/2017/07/19/mylife-as-a-suburban-church-planter/. Goetz, Death By Suburb, pp. 41–44. Samson and Samson, Justice in the Burbs. Jacobsen, Sidewalks in the Kingdom; Hsu, The Suburban Christian. Hsu, The Suburban Christian, p. 188. Mark Noll, The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind (Grand Rapids, MI:Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1994). Emerson and Smith, Divided By Faith. Greeley, The Church and the Suburbs, p. 192; Berger, Working-Class Suburb, p. 103; Goetz, Death by Suburb. Kristen Bialik,“Key findings about American life in urban, suburban and rural areas,” Pew Research Center, 2018, www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2018/05/22/key-findings-about-american-life-inurban-suburban-and-rural-areas/; William H. Frey, “Early decade big city growth continues to fall off, census shows,” Brookings Institution, 2018, www.brookings.edu/blog/the-avenue/2018/05/25/ early-decade-big-city-growth-continues-to-fall-off-census-shows/?utm_campaign=Metropolitan %20Policy%20Program&utm_source=hs_email&utm_medium=email&utm_content=63594951. Jacobsen, Sidewalks in the Kingdom. Duany, Plater-Zyberk, and Speck, Suburban Nation. Baumgartner, The Moral Order of a Suburb. Sonia A. Hirt, Zoned in the USA:The Origins and Implications of American Land-Use Regulation (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2014); Brian J. McCabe, No Place Like Home:Wealth, Community, and the Politics of Homeownership (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016). Jackson, Crabgrass Frontier; Hayden, Building Suburbia. Andrew Wiese, Places of Their Own:African American Suburbanization in the Twentieth Century (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 2004). Rothstein, The Color of Law. Massey and Denton, American Apartheid; Douglas S. Massey, Len Albright, Rebecca Casciano, Elizabeth Derickson, and David N. Kinsey, Climbing Mount Laurel:The Struggle for Affordable Housing and Social Mobility in an American Suburb (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013); James C. Clingermayer,“Heresthetics and Happenstance: Intentional and Unintentional Exclusionary Impacts of the Zoning Decision-making Process,” Urban Studies 41, No. 2 (2004): pp. 377–88; Brian J. Miller and David B. Malone, “Race, Town, and Gown: A White Christian College and a White Suburb Address Race,” Journal of the Illinois State Historical Society 112, No. 3 (2019): pp. 293–316; Brian J. Miller, “‘Would prefer a trailer park to a large [religious] structure’: Suburban responses to proposals for religious buildings.” The Sociological Quarterly 60, No. 2 (2019): pp. 265–86. Brian J. Miller, “Religious Freedom and Local Conflict: Religious Buildings and Zoning Issues in the New York City Region, 1992-2017,” Sociology of Religion 81, No. 4 (2020): pp. 462-84. William H. Frey, Diversity Explosion: How New Racial Demographics Are Remaking America (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2015); Sam Roberts,“In Shift, 40% of Immigrants Move Directly to Suburbs.” New York Times, October 17, 2007, www.nytimes.com/2007/10/17/us/17census.html; Jill H.Wilson and Nicole Prchal Svajlenka, “Immigrants Continue to Disperse, with Fastest Growth in the Suburbs,” Brookings Institution, 2014, www.brookings.edu/research/immigrants-continue-todisperse-with-fastest-growth-in-the-suburbs/. Hsu, The Suburban Christian. Emerson and Smith, Divided By Faith; Jason E. Shelton, and Michael O. Emerson, Blacks and Whites in Christian America: How Racial Discrimination Shapes Religious Convictions (New York: New York University Press, 2012). David M.P. Freund, Colored Property: State Policy and White Racial Politics in Suburban America (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 2007).

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Faith in the suburbs 71 Winter, The Suburban Captivity of the Churches; Robert Fishman, “Hudnut-Beumler, James. Looking for God in the Suburbs: The Religion of the American Dream and Its Critics, 1945–1965. pp. xi, 229. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1994. $42.00. Paperbound, $16.00,” The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 542 (1995): pp. 237–8. 72 Melvin L. Oliver and Thomas M. Shapiro, Black Wealth, White Wealth: A New Perspective on Racial Inequality (New York: Routledge, 2006); Brian J. McCabe, “Why Buy a Home? Race, Ethnicity, and Homeownership Preferences in the United States,” Sociology of Race and Ethnicity 4, No. 4 (2018): pp. 452–72. 73 Daniel Cox, Juhem Navarro-Rivera, and Robert P. Jones, “Race, Religion, and Political Affiliation of Americans’ Core Social Networks,” PRRI, 2016, www.prri.org/research/poll-race-religion-poli tics-americans-social-networks/. 74 Kevin D. Doughtery and Michael O. Emerson, “The Changing Complexion of American Congregations,” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 57, No. 1 (2018): pp. 24–38. 75 Winter, The Suburban Captivity of the Churches. 76 Fishman, Bourgeois Utopias, p. 38. 77 Sally K. Gallagher and Christian Smith, “Symbolic Traditionalism and Pragmatic Egalitarianism: Contemporary Evangelicals, Families, and Gender,” Gender and Society 13, No. 2 (1999): pp. 211–33. 78 Betty Friedan, The Feminine Mystique (New York: Norton, 1963). 79 Jacobsen, Sidewalks in the Kingdom. 80 Hales, Finding Holy in the Suburbs, pp. 143–60; Hsu, The Suburban Christian, pp. 189–92; Samson and Samson, Justice in the Burbs, pp. 178–9. 81 Christian Smith, American Evangelicalism: Embattled and Thriving (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 1998); James Davison Hunter, To Change the World:The Irony,Tragedy, and Possibility of Christianity in the Late Modern World (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010). 82 Steven P. Miller, Billy Graham and the Rise of the Republican South (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009), pp. 44; Brian J. Miller, “From “Jungles of Terror” to “God Will Begin a Healing in This City”: Billy Graham and Evangelicals on Cities and Suburbs,” Journal of Urban History (2020), https://doi.org/10.1177/0096144220940045. 83 Andy Crouch, Culture Making: Recovering our Creative Calling (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Books, 2008). 84 For example, with issues of race, see Emerson and Smith, Divided By Faith. 85 Rachel Heiman, Driving After Class:Anxious Times in an American Suburb (Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2015). 86 Christian Smith, American Evangelicalism. 87 William Jeynes, “The Rise of Homeschooling as a Modern Educational Phenomenon in American Protestant Education,” in International Handbook of Protestant Education, eds,William Jeynes and David W. Robinson (Dordrecht: Springer, 2012), p. 77. 88 Mark Chaves and Alison Eagle, “Religious Congregations in 21st Century America,” National Congregations Study, 2015, www.soc.duke.edu/natcong/Docs/NCSIII_report_final.pdf; Mark Chaves, Congregations in America (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2004). 89 Smith, American Evangelicalism. 90 Daniel Vaca, Evangelicals Incorporated: Books and the Business of Religion in America (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2019). 91 Shippey, Protestantism in Suburban Life, p. 8. 92 Frey, Diversity Explosion; Elizabeth Kneebone and Alan Berube, Confronting Suburban Poverty in America (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2013); Bernadette Hanlon, Once the American Dream: Inner-Ring Suburbs of the Metropolitan United States (Philadelphia, PA:Temple University Press, 2010). 93 Several examples illustrate this clustering. Parachurch organizations are concentrated in particular locations. See Christopher P. Scheitle, Erica J. Dollhpf, and John D. McCarthy, “Spiritual Districts: The Origins and Dynamics of US Cities with Unusually High Concentrations of Parachurch Organizations,” Social Science History 41, No. 3 (2017): pp. 505–32. Others have noted the presence of “evangelical epicenters.” See Dante Chinni and James Gimpel, Our Patchwork Nation:The Surprising Truth about the “real” America (New York: Gotham Books, 2010).The locations of CCCU – Consortium of 94 Dochuk,“‘Praying for a Wicked City’”; Gamm, Urban Exodus. 95 Mulder, Shades of White Flight. 96 Bebbington, Evangelicalism in Modern Britain. 97 The opening and closing chapters of Suburbanity include a series of statements about Christian life in the suburbs that Yawn refutes primarily by quoting Bible passages.Yawn, Suburbianity, pp. 11–24, pp. 217–26.

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Brian J. Miller 98 Walter Brueggemann, The Land: Place as Gift, Promise and Challenge in Biblical Faith (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2002);T.J. Gorringe, A Theology of the Built Environment: Justice, Empowerment, Redemption (Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press, 2002); John Inge, A Christian Theology of Place (Burlington,VT: Ashgate, 2003); Craig G. Bartholomew, Where Mortals Dwell: A Christian View of Place for Today (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2011); Eric O. Jacobsen, The Space Between: A Christian Engagement with the Built Environment (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2012); Leonard Hjalmarson, No Home Like Place:A Christian Theology of Place (Portland, OR: Urban Loft Publishers, 2014). 99 For example, see: Diamond, And I Will Dwell in Their Midst; Paul D. Numrich and Elfriede Wedam, Religion and Community in the New Urban America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015); Justine Howe, Suburban Islam (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018). 100 Teaford, The American Suburb, p. 6. 101 Hudnut-Beumler, Looking for God in the Suburbs.

Bibliography Archer, John. Architecture and Suburbia: From English Villa to American Dream House, 1690–2000 (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2005). Bartholomew, Craig G. Where Mortals Dwell: A Christian View of Place for Today (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2011). Baumgartner, M.P. The Moral Order of a Suburb (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988). Bebbington, D.W. Evangelicalism in Modern Britain: A History From the 1730s to the 1980s (Boston, MA: Unwin Hyman, 1989). Berger, Bennett M. Working-Class Suburb: A Study of Auto Workers in Suburbia (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1960). Bialik, Kristen. “Key Findings about American Life in Urban, Suburban and Rural Areas.” Pew Research Center, 2018. www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2018/05/22/key-findings-about-american-life-in-urbansuburban-and-rural-areas/. Bielo, James S.“City of Man, City of God:The Re-Urbanization of American Evangelicals.” City & Society 23, No. S1 (2011): pp. 2–23. Bielo, James S. “Purity, Danger, and Redemption: Notes on Urban Missional Evangelicals.” American Ethnologist 38, No. 2 (2011): pp. 267–80. Brueggemann, Walter. The Land: Place as Gift, Promise and Challenge in Biblical Faith (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2002). Cavalcanti, H.B. Gloryland: Christian Suburbia, Christian Nation (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2007). Chaves, Mark. Congregations in America (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2004). Chaves, Mark and Alison Eagle. “Religious Congregations in 21st Century America.” National Congregations Study, 2015. www.soc.duke.edu/natcong/Docs/NCSIII_report_final.pdf. Chinni, Dante and James Gimpel. Our Patchwork Nation:The Surprising Truth about the “Real”America (New York: Gotham Books, 2010). Christian Century. “Great Churches of America III The First Church of Christ (Congregational), West Hartford, Connecticut.” March 1950. Claiborne, Shane. The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2006). Clingermayer, James C. “Heresthetics and Happenstance: Intentional and Unintentional Exclusionary Impacts of the Zoning Decision-making Process.” Urban Studies 41, No. 2 (2004): pp. 377–88. Conn, Stephen. Americans Against the City: Anti-Urbanism in the Twentieth Century (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014). Cox, Daniel, Juhem Navarro-Rivera, and Robert P. Jones, “Race, Religion, and Political Affiliation of Americans’ Core Social Networks.” PRRI, 2016. www.prri.org/research/poll-race-religion-politicsamericans-social-networks/. Crouch, Andy. Culture Making: Recovering our Creative Calling (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Press, 2008). Diamond, Etan. And I Will Dwell in Their Midst: Orthodox Jews in Suburbia (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2000). Diamond, Etan. Souls of the City: Religion and the Search for Community in Postwar America (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2003). Dochuk, Darren. “‘Praying for a Wicked City’: Congregation, Community and the Suburbanization of Fundamentalism.” Religious and American Culture:A Journal of Interpretation 13, No. 2 (2003): pp. 167–203.

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Faith in the suburbs Doughtery, Kevin D. and Michael O. Emerson.“The Changing Complexion of American Congregations.” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 57, No. 1 (2018): pp. 24–38. Duany, Andres, Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk, and Jeff Speck. Suburban Nation:The Rise of Sprawl and the Decline of the American Dream (New York: North Point Press, 2000). Elisha, Omri. “Taking the (Inner) City for God: Ambiguities of Urban Social Engagement Among Conservative White Evangelicals.” In The Fundamentalist City: Religion and Urbanism in the New Global Order, eds, Nezar AlSayyad and Mejgan Massoumi (New York: Routledge, 2011), pp. 235–56. Emerson, Michael O. and Christian Smith. Divided by Faith: Evangelical Religion and the Problem of Race in America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000). Erre, Mike. The Jesus of Suburbia (Nashville, TN: W Publishing Group, 2006). Finke, Roger and Rodney Stark. The Churching of America, 1776–2005:Winners and Losers in Our Religious Economy (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2005). Fishman, Robert. Bourgeois Utopias:The Rise and Fall of Suburbia (New York: Basic Books, 1987). Fishman, Robert. “Hudnut-Beumler, James. Looking for God in the Suburbs: The Religion of the American Dream and Its Critics, 1945–1965 (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1994), pp. xi, 229. $42.00. Paperbound, $16.00.” Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 542 (1995): pp. 237–8. Freund, David M.P. Colored Property: State Policy and White Racial Politics in Suburban America (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 2007). Frey, William H. Diversity Explosion: How New Racial Demographics Are Remaking America (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2015). Frey, William H. “Early Decade Big City Growth Continues to Fall Off, Census Shows.” Brookings Institution, 2018. www.brookings.edu/blog/the-avenue/2018/05/25/early-decade-big-city-growthcontinues-to-fall-off-census-shows/?utm_campaign=Metropolitan%20Policy%20Program&utm_source= hs_email&utm_medium=email&utm_content=63594951. Friedan, Betty. The Feminine Mystique (New York: Norton, 1963). Gallagher, Sally K. and Christian Smith. “Symbolic Traditionalism and Pragmatic Egalitarianism: Contemporary Evangelicals, Families, and Gender.” Gender and Society 13, No. 2 (1999): pp. 211–33. Gamm, Gerald. Urban Exodus: Why the Jews Left Boston and the Catholics Stayed (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999). Goetz, David L. Death by Suburb: How to Keep the Suburbs From Killing Your Soul (San Francisco, CA: HarperCollins, 2006). Gorringe, T.J. A Theology of the Built Environment: Justice, Empowerment, Redemption (Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press, 2002). Greeley, Andrew M. The Church and the Suburbs (Glen Rock, NJ: Deus Books, 1959). Hales, Ashley. Finding Holy in the Suburbs: Living Faithfully in the Land of Too Much (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2018). Hanlon, Bernadette. Once the American Dream: Inner-Ring Suburbs of the Metropolitan United States (Philadelphia, PA:Temple University Press, 2010). Hatch, Nathan O. The Democratization of American Christianity (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1989). Hayden, Dolores. Building Suburbia: Green Fields and Urban Growth, 1820–2000 (New York:Vintage Books, 2003). Heiman, Rachel. Driving After Class: Anxious Times in an American Suburb (Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2015). Heimsath, Charles H.“Asleep in a Suburban Zion.” Christian Century, November 15, 1939. Hirsch, Arnold R. Making the Second Ghetto: Race and Housing in Chicago, 1940–1960 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983). Hirt, Sonia A. Zoned in the USA:The Origins and Implications of American Land-Use Regulation (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2014). Hjalmarson, Leonard. No Home Like Place: A Christian Theology of Place (Portland, OR: Urban Loft Publishers, 2014). Howe, Justine. Suburban Islam (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018). Hsu, Albert Y. The Suburban Christian: Finding Spiritual Vitality in the Land of Plenty (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2006). Hudnut-Beumler, James. Looking for God in the Suburbs:The Religion of the American Dream and Its Critics, 1945–1965 (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1994).

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Brian J. Miller Hunter, James Davison. To Change the World:The Irony,Tragedy, and Possibility of Christianity in the Late Modern World (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010). Inge, John. A Christian Theology of Place (Burlington,VT:Ashgate, 2003). Jackson, Kenneth T. Crabgrass Frontier:The Suburbanization of the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985). Jacobsen, Eric O. Sidewalks in the Kingdom: New Urbanism and the Christian Faith (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2003). Jacobsen, Eric O. The Space Between: A Christian Engagement with the Built Environment (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2012). Jeynes, William. “The Rise of Homeschooling as a Modern Educational Phenomenon in American Protestant Education.” In International Handbook of Protestant Education, eds,William Jeynes and David W. Robinson (Dordrecht: Springer, 2012), pp. 77–92. Kneebone, Elizabeth and Alan Berube. Confronting Suburban Poverty in America (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2013). Kruse, Kevin M. White Flight: Atlanta and the Making of Modern Conservatism (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2006). Low, Setha. Behind the Gates: Life, Security, and the Pursuit of Happiness in Fortress America (New York: Routledge, 2003). Luhr, Eileen. Witnessing Suburbia: Conservatives and Christian Youth Culture (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2009). Marsh, Margaret. Suburban Lives (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1990). Massey, Douglas S. and Nancy A. Denton. American Apartheid: Segregation and the Making of the Underclass (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993). Massey, Douglas S., Len Albright, Rebecca Casciano, Elizabeth Derickson, and David N. Kinsey. Climbing Mount Laurel:The Struggle for Affordable Housing and Social Mobility in an American Suburb (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013). McCabe, Brian J. No Place Like Home: Wealth, Community, and the Politics of Homeownership (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016). McCabe, Brian J. “Why Buy a Home? Race, Ethnicity, and Homeownership Preferences in the United States.” Sociology of Race and Ethnicity 4, No. 4 (2018): pp. 452–72. McGirr, Lisa McGirr. Suburban Warriors:The Origins of the New American Right (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001). McGreevy, John T. Parish Boundaries:The Catholic Encounter with Race in the Twentieth- Century Urban North (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1996). Miller, Brian J. “Growing Suburbs, Relocating Churches:The Suburbanization of Protestant Churches in the Chicago Region, 1925–1990.” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 56, No. 2 (2017): pp. 342–64. Miller, Brian J. “Measuring Religion in Different Spatial Contexts: How Surveys Involving Religion Inconsistently Determine Locations.” Review of Religious Research 58, No. 2 (2016): pp. 285–304. Miller, Brian J.“Not All Suburbs Are the Same:The Role of Character in Shaping Growth and Development in Three Chicago Suburbs.” Urban Affairs Review 49, No. 5 (2013): pp. 652–77. Miller, Brian J. “‘Would Prefer a Trailer Park to a Large [Religious] Structure’: Suburban Responses to Proposals for Religious Buildings.” The Sociological Quarterly 60, No. 2 (2019): pp. 265–86. Miller, Brian J. and David B. Malone. “Race, Town, and Gown: A White Christian College and a White Suburb Address Race.” Journal of the Illinois State Historical Society 112, No. 3 (2019): pp. 293–316. Miller, Brian J., “Religious Freedom and Local Conflict: Religious Buildings and Zoning Issues in the New York City Region, 1992-2017.” Sociology of Religion 81, No. 4 (2020): pp. 462–84. Miller, Brian J., “From “Jungles of Terror” to “God Will Begin a Healing in This City”: Billy Graham and Evangelicals on Cities and Suburbs.” Journal of Urban History (2020), https://doi. org/10.1177/0096144220940045. Miller,Steven P.Billy Graham and the Rise of the Republican South (Philadelphia,PA:University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009). Mulder, Mark T. Shades of White Flight: Evangelical Congregations and Urban Departure (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2015). Mulder, Mark and Gerardo Martí, The Glass Church: Robert H. Schuller, the Crystal Cathedral, and the Strain of Megachurch Ministry (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2020). Mulder, Mark T. and James K.A. Smith. “Subdivided by Faith? An Historical Account of Evangelicals and the City.” Christian Scholar’s Review 38, No. 4 (2009): pp. 415–34.

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Faith in the suburbs Nash, Dennison. “A Little Child Shall Lead Them: A Statistical Test of an Hypothesis that Children Were the Source of the American “Religious Revival”.” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 7, No. 2 (1968): pp. 238–40. Nash, Dennison and Peter L. Berger. “The Child, the Family, and the ‘Religious Revival’ in Suburbia.” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 2, No. 1 (1962): pp. 85–93. Noll, Mark A. The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind (Grand Rapids, MI:Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1994). Numrich, Paul D. and Elfriede Wedam. Religion and Community in the New Urban America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015). Oliver, Melvin L. and Thomas M. Shapiro. Black Wealth,White Wealth:A New Perspective on Racial Inequality (New York: Routledge, 2006). Roberts, Sam.“In Shift, 40% of Immigrants Move Directly to Suburbs.” New York Times, October 17, 2007. www.nytimes.com/2007/10/17/us/17census.html. Rosslester.“My Life as a Suburban Church Planter.” 2017, https://rosslester.com/2017/07/19/my-life-asa-suburban-church-planter/. Rothstein, Richard. The Color of Law: A Forgotten History of How Our Government Segregated America (New York: Liveright, 2017). Samson,Will and Lisa Samson. Justice in the Burbs: Being the Hands of Jesus Wherever You Live (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 2007). Scheitle, Christopher P., Erica J. Dollhpf, and John D. McCarthy. “Spiritual Districts: The Origins and Dynamics of US Cities with Unusually High Concentrations of Parachurch Organizations.” Social Science History 41, No. 3 (2017): pp. 505–32. Seeley, John R., R. Alexander Sim, and Elizabeth W. Loosley. Crestwood Heights: A Study of the Culture of Suburban Life (New York: Basic Books, 1956). Shelton, Jason E. and Michael O. Emerson. Blacks and Whites in Christian America: How Racial Discrimination Shapes Religious Convictions (New York: New York University Press, 2012). Shippey, Frederick A. Protestantism in Suburban Life (New York:Abingdon Press, 1964). Smith, Christian. American Evangelicalism: Embattled and Thriving (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1998). Stylites, Simeon.“‘Satan in the Suburbs.’” Christian Century, November 26, 1952. Sugrue, Thomas. The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996). Teaford, Jon C. The American Suburb:The Basics (New York: Routledge, 2008). US Census Bureau.“Demographic Trends in the 20th Century.” 2002. www.census.gov/prod/2002pubs/ censr-4.pdf. US Census Bureau. “Moving in America.” 2016. www.census.gov/library/visualizations/2016/comm/cb 16-189_migration.html. Vaca, Daniel. Evangelicals Incorporated: Books and the Business of Religion in America (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2019). Vescey, George. “Chicago Suburb Is ‘Vatican of Evangelicals’: A Corporate ‘Christian Ghetto.’” New York Times, July 21, 1978. White, Morton and Lucia White. The Intellectual Versus the City: From Thomas Jefferson to Frank Lloyd Wright (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1962). Wiese, Andrew. Places of Their Own: African American Suburbanization in the Twentieth Century (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 2004). Wilcox,W. Bradford.“How Focused on the Family? Evangelical Protestants, the Family, and Sexuality.” In Evangelicals and Democracy in America –Volume 1: Religion and Society, eds, Steven Brint and Jean Reith Schroedel (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2009). Wilford, Justin G. Sacred Subdivisions:The Postsuburban Transformation of American Evangelicalism (New York: New York University Press, 2012). Wilkerson, Isabel. The Warmth of Other Suns:The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration (New York: Random House, 2010). Wilson, Jill H.Wilson and Nicole Prchal Svajlenka.“Immigrants Continue to Disperse, with Fastest Growth in the Suburbs.” Brookings Institution, 2014. www.brookings.edu/research/immigrants-continue-todisperse-with-fastest-growth-in-the-suburbs/. Winter, Gibson. The Suburban Captivity of the Churches:An Analysis of Protestant Responsibility in the Expanding Metropolis (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1961). Yawn, Byron Forrest. Suburbanity (Eugene, OR: Harvest House Publishers, 2013).

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10 WHO DEFINES THE RELIGIOUS NARRATIVE FOR JUSTICE? The old guard meets the avant-garde in Nashville—the “it” city Teresa L. Smallwood

Situated in the deep south, Nashville,Tennessee is the home of the Grand Ole Opry.The Grand Ole Opry is a symbol of almost a century of country music, conservative politics, and separatism. North Carolina organized Davidson County as a political unit in 1784 with land grants to soldiers in 640-acre increments after the Revolutionary War. Chartered in 1806, Nashville is flanked by the Cumberland River, which gave the city its first trade boom. Land ownership in the form of large plantations produced tobacco and cotton through forced labor. Farmers and planters formed the gentry as the economic influencers of the region even after the introduction of the steamboat to the rapidly growing economy.1 For the next 100 years, Nashville added churches, infrastructure, government, and jails.The city developed around a particular racialized venire facias juratores—a group of folks commonly known as the gentry who decidedly established the borders seen and unseen.This article will explore religion and the city from the lens of grassroots organizing by amplifying the voice of the people for justice in contradistinction to the voice of the gentry in city governance. It shows that, when the people have a mind to work, as the prophet Nehemiah propounds, the will of the people will harness itself into direct action for justice. The historical dynamics in Nashville stem from a post-Civil War ideology of othering and belonging. In 1907 The Nashville Banner ran an editorial cartoon that captures the phenomenon, which signifies this post-war ideology and the emergence of the gentry.2 Nashville—presently referred to as the “it” city,3 is portrayed in the twentieth-century cartoon as a white female, a part of the gentry.Tear-drops flow from her eyes and on her face a black spot is plastered with the words “Black Bottom” inscribed. On her hat appear the words “Miss Nashville,” depicting her as a debutante of the Nashville gentry. Her contention is that the area derogatorily known as “Black Bottom,” where the poor lived, which at that time likely consisted of blacks, poor whites, and Jews, should have been demolished and removed.The Nashville elite planned to have the city build a park in its place. While the effort to build the park failed, the John Seigenthaler Pedestrian Bridge was built, proving the long-standing practice in the city to cordon undesirables into shanties away from the elite.This narrative is one among many in Nashville pointing to the racially charged historical fangs of an ophidian structure (see Figure 10.1). 136

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Figure 10.1 “Miss Nashville.”4 This 1907 editorial cartoon from The Nashville Banner depicts the city as a woman with a dark blemish on her cheek, and asks what can be done to remove it. Source: Nashville Public Library Special Collections

Racial tensions in the city ebb and flow most notably around issues of place and space.The Jefferson Street corridor, located in North Nashville, once served as Nashville’s black mecca.The home to Fisk University and Meharry Medical College, the north Nashville scene once thrived with historically black businesses such as entertainment venues, barber shops, beauty salons, and restaurants. Black churches lace nearly every major thoroughfare in ZIP Code 37208. Plans for urban renewal in the 1960s positioned Interstate 40 down the middle of North Nashville’s Jefferson Street.The placement of I-40 leveled a blow to what was then the black business center of the city and it wreaked havoc on “African-American business and culture,” generally.5 North Nashville citizens formed a steering committee consisting of residents, business professionals, and students to fight against the placement of I-40 in the heart of the thriving black business section.The interstate created literal dead ends cutting off the flow of commerce to the area.The steering committee brought a lawsuit against the city, to no avail, alleging the placement of the interstate was based upon racial bias.6 Nashville holds an abundance of rich history around the Civil Rights Movement, Jim Crow laws, and the Nashville Christian Leadership Council.The Nashville sit-ins, which lasted from February 13 to May 10, 1960, were part of a nonviolent direct-action campaign to end racial 137

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segregation at lunch counters in the downtown area. The sit-in campaign was coordinated by the Nashville Student Movement, Nashville Christian Leadership Council, and Nashville's African American community. All of these entities worked together to lay the foundation for dismantling racial segregation.7 Nashville holds a unique place in history as it relates to that legacy.Victor Anderson opines “gone are the days when democracy embraced a liberal progressive spirit such as defined the voices of public theology in the past.”8 Anderson notes that in the absence of the “giants,” the “faithful ordinary”9 must fill the lacuna created. Giants like Martin Luther King, Jr., protestant public theologians Paul Tillich, the Niebuhrs, as well as German theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer are all gone.The faithful ordinary—those who answer the call of justice to avenge the wrongs created by biased governance, live their faith in the public sphere. The faithful ordinary engage religion as orientation. Charles H. Long opined “orientation refers to the manner in which a culture, society, or person becomes aware of its place in the temporal spatial order of things.”10 Religion as orientation, according to Long, “expresses creativity and critique in the face of the given order of creation.”11 A brief study and a (re)membrance of this history proves vital to the understanding and the recent shaping of a new and powerful narrative for the marginalized in Nashville.This article will examine what can happen in cities when faithful “people have a mind to work.” Having a mind to work connotes a symbiosis formed from common purpose and commitments within community. It refers to the spirit of a people to correct injustice through collective will.

The old guard A black Vanderbilt University Divinity School student, James Morris Lawson, Jr., was the architect of the nonviolent direct-action training for area activists in the 1960s. Lawson worked to train local activists in the Ghandhian technique of nonviolent resistance, which he studied in India. His work met with opposition from Vanderbilt University, resulting in Chancellor Harvie Branscomb expelling him from the Divinity School.The Lawson expulsion “pleased powerful board member James Stahlman, publisher of the The Nashville Banner, which was editorializing stoutly against Lawson’s off-campus agitations.”12 As a member of the gentry, Stahlman exercised power and influence over the Chancellor of Vanderbilt University; because he was a powerful businessman and print media mogul, he controlled the dominant narrative to a great extent.13 Lawson’s expulsion commandeered national attention and spawned a protest by Divinity School faculty and students alike.When Divinity School faculty resigned as a result of Lawson’s unfair expulsion, faculty and students formed a picket line.The University capitulated and Lawson was reinstated. The Nashville sit-ins proceeded with students trained by James Lawson. When students were arrested for sitting at the lunch counter of the local Kress,Woolworth’s, and McClellan stores, several NAACP lawyers, among them Z. Alexander Looby, represented them. Looby’s house, which he occupied with his wife in North Nashville, was subsequently bombed while the two slept.The bomb caused extensive damage to other homes and structures in the immediate vicinity, including blowing out as many as 100 windows in a Meharry Medical College building just across the street, which catapulted 2,500 black students, activists, clergy, and concerned citizens to the streets later that same day.Though this bombing case was never solved, it sparked a silent protest march in the streets from North Nashville to City Hall. Students and community members marched in silence until they reached the steps of City Hall, where Diane Nash confronted Mayor Ben West.This confrontation led to the desegregation of lunch counters in the city.14

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The avant-garde Every generation sees the emergence of the faithful ordinary. The courageous example of Diane Nash in the 1960s inspires current young adult activism like that of Rasheedat Fetuga of Gideon’s Army. Orientated toward doing justice, the young people of this generation seek fairness and equality in the structures of society designated to be the gatekeepers. In 2017, structural barriers to equal treatment and opportunity within the economic, legal, educational, and residential components of Nashville communities served as a backdrop for the kind of nonviolent directaction giving rise to a community committed to placing accountability over police and to protecting the vulnerable from the machinations of the gentry. On the economic front, classism confines the marginalized communities to low wages, unemployment, and dependency upon governmental subsistence. The legal system is statistically guilty of disparate treatment toward black and brown citizens, which demonstrates a race-based animus in arrests and deportations. The Driving While Black Report15 released by Gideon’s Army on October 25, 2016 shows conclusively that the Metro Nashville Police Department (MNPD) is guilty of turning the streets of Nashville into a racial battleground with community policing serving as a front for racial harassment by law enforcement.The report, virtually ignored by those in Nashville’s government, paints a picture eerily similar to what the old guard faced in the 1960s. The Driving While Black Report sounded the clarion call for students, clergy, community activists, organizers, and concerned citizens to pay closer attention to the disparate treatment of racialized minorities on the streets of Nashville. It points out the disparity that racialized minorities in Nashville deal with daily.The report, over 213 pages, demonstrates that racial profiling is a method in force and effect within MNPD. For instance, in zone 821, which is located in the Midtown Hills Precinct, [located in ZIP Code 37203] 7.1% of black men who are stopped are subjected to a consent search compared to 0.8% of white men who are stopped. The rate for black men is 787.5% greater than the rate for white men while officers are also 5.8% less likely to find evidence [of a crime] on black men than white men.16 Fewer than four months after this alarm sound, the murder-by-police of Jocques Scott Clemmons signaled the need for concerted community action. From the lawsuit filed by Clemmons’ estate, the officer chased Mr. Clemmons. On February 10, 2017, Mr. Jocques Scott Clemmons was fatally shot in the back by Metropolitan Nashville Police Department (MNPD) Officer Joshua Lippert following an alleged traffic stop. Initial statements released by the MNPD asserted that Mr. Clemmons assaulted Officer Lippert before Mr. Clemmons was shot and killed. In a widely reported video released to the public on February 14, 2017, however, surveillance footage revealed, in fact, no physical altercation had occurred.17 A video of the murder-by-police confirmed what the Driving While Black Report concluded; MNPD routinely harassed black folks.This time, it resulted in the death of yet another young black male. Moreover, the police lied about how the death occurred. It was clear that the Metro Nashville Police Department could not be trusted, particularly when the overwhelming evidence was that it would always protect one of its own, even if it meant falsifying public records. It was systemic.The community was outraged. Jocques “was driving through the James A. Cayce Homes, the largest public housing complex in Nashville.”18 Initially built for white families in 1941, Cayce Homes became the place for black families who were gentrified “due to

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discriminatory lending practices that allowed whites to purchase single family homes and move out of low income housing. Cayce’s residents went from all white to mostly black” in the span of 30 years.19 Jocques Clemmons’ girlfriend and son lived there. Part of the momentum for the public outcry at this murder-by-police is that previous killings of young black men over the years had yielded, through public demand, that police be equipped with dashcams and body cameras.Though the city had approved such expenditures, the Police Chief, Michael Steven (“Steve”) Anderson, circumvented the issue at every turn. Clemmons’ mother, a devout Christian, was determined to seek justice and put her faith into action. At a rally inside the lobby of City Hall, Sheila Clemmons Lee declared that the “blood” is on the hands of the city for every death at the hands of police.20 Her statement echoes Ezekiel 3:18 and served as a warning to city officials to take her position seriously. Motivated by her own orientation toward justice and fairness, Clemmons Lee vowed to act every week until she was heard. This tenacity reflects the nature of a people who have a mind to work. Her persistence inspired many to stand with her. In the weeks, months, and years after her son’s senseless killing, Sheila Clemmons Lee and her family members accompanied by friends, concerned citizens, activists, and a growing cadre of support held routine vigils outside the police precinct.According to Dr. Sekou Franklin,“some of the anchors on the activist side had built up a network of indigenous folks who had long-standing relationships with each other.”21 Community oversight had been contemplated for many years by community activists. There was a consistent call for police accountability over multiple decades spanning the service of the current police chief and his predecessors. Now, it was imminent. The culture of police brutality, particularly toward black and brown people, was well established.The difference in this moment was the will of the people.The people joined forces with Sheila Clemmons Lee, who formed the “Justice for Jocques Coalition.” The first two weeks after the shooting death of Jocques Clemmons, Black Lives Matter Nashville, under the leadership of co-founder, D.J. Hudson, a Vanderbilt Divinity School graduate, canvassed Cayce Homes to speak to residents and build solidarity with the people. Jocques’ death synced with other advocacy and activism work done by the group on issues across the spectrum of social and racial justice in Nashville. Meanwhile, Sheila Clemmons Lee, through her Coalition, stormed Metro Nashville City Council demanding “Justice for Jocques!” 11 days after his death. Calling for community oversight at that Council meeting, and emboldened by widespread community presence chanting for justice, they disrupted the city’s narrative in ritual fashion. Their chant “no justice, no peace” fueled their litany: “It is our duty to fight for our freedom; we have nothing to lose but our chains.”Their song, inspired by Sweet Honey in the Rock,“we who believe in freedom cannot rest, we who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes,” serves as the liturgical thread for their direct action.The Metro council, forced to grant the protestors a platform to speak, yielded to the will of the people.22 In those defining moments of this movement, religion as orientation motivated the faithful ordinary to organize themselves around the principle of justice. They sought freedom from the tyranny of domination in the streets of Nashville for their family and neighbors.The gathering together of the faithful ordinary in this way formulated a “contact zone” in the Longian sense.A “contact zone” is a way of describing the “spaces of inquiry” that provide “the basis for creativity and critique” within the “temporal-geographic area.”23 As her faith held strong in the power to effectuate change, Sheila Clemmons Lee experienced the death of another young black man similarly murdered by police. Police Officer Andrew Delke, a white officer, fatally shot Daniel Hambrick the evening of July 26, 2018. From the lawsuit filed by the decedent’s estate, officer Delke randomly selected Daniel Hambrick to stop and harass. When Hambrick stopped his car, he ran. Delke pursued him and shot him 140

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from behind. Bullets landed in his left side torso, heart, lungs, back, brain, and spine.24 Dashcams and body cameras were noticeably absent. Both were approved by Metro council as stop-gap measures for the fact-gathering component of these types of investigations. The fact that the Nashville Chief of Police stalled their full implementation gave the community pause in light of the deaths of Clemmons and Hambrick—two young black men. Jo Johnston Avenue, where the Hambrick murder occurred, is located in one of two primary areas of Nashville where concentrated poverty, lack of opportunity, and over-policing hover. The Fraternal Order of Police and MNPD fought the legislation for a Community Oversight Board vociferously. By January 2018, the legislation to create a Community Oversight Board, submitted to Metro Nashville City Council, died by technicality. Eventually, the Coalition was forced to seek a Charter Referendum in order to secure the matter for the ballot. A Charter Referendum is particularly difficult because it requires a “yes” vote from 27 out of 40 members of the Metro Nashville City Council or it must garner signatures equivalent to 10% of the number of votes cast from the previous general election through a petition drive. Rev. Sekou Franklin drafted the first iteration of the Community Oversight legislation. His work triggered further study and revision of the legislation supported by numerous activist groups throughout the city, including Black Lives Matter Nashville, NAACP Criminal Justice Task force,Tennessee State conference of NAACP, Gideon’s Army, Showing Up for Racial Justice (SURJ), Democracy Nashville-Democratic Communities, Music City Riders United, Nashville Peacemakers, Urban EpiCenter, SONG—Southerners On New Ground, and NOAH—Nashville Organized for Action and Hope, whose member Kyle Mothershead, a civil rights attorney, finalized the legislation.The final draft that was submitted to the Metro Nashville City Council in mid-March 2017 was endorsed by the Interdenominational Ministers’ Fellowship (IMF), New Covenant Christian Church, Clark Memorial United Methodist Church, United Autoworkers Local 137, Barbara Sanders, Synergetic Solutions Blog, and No Exceptions Prison Collective.25 The Coalition, operating as a united front under the moniker Community Oversight Now, continued to build rapport with community members. Momentum grew at a rapid rate and by March 2017, a final draft of the legislation was submitted to Nashville Metro Council.26 Though that measure was considered “dead on arrival,” Community Oversight Now persisted. On April 4, 2018, 50 years from the death of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the Coalition had secured in excess of 8,000 signatures for a Charter Referendum.27 The measure went before the electorate in the November 2018 General Election and won by a landslide 59% of the votes cast.28Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated in Memphis,Tennessee at the Lorraine Motel April 4, 1968.The significance of this date was not lost on the Coalition.With two murders by police looming in the shadows of a community’s memory, Dr. King’s death, another state-sanctioned killing from a protest perspective, served as a stark reminder of the gravity of the moment. King’s death continues to spark interest around the horrific trend in American culture to brutally murder, defile, and destroy black genius.That Dr. King was a genius of social change is virtually undisputed.Yet whether there is a historical, sociological, or moral connection between King’s death and the recent rash of murders of black bodies, particularly by the state apparatus, presents a question of serious import for both scholars and community activists alike. Are there connections between the lack of protection of black genius and the deliberate killing of black genius? African Americans have experienced prolonged trauma in the form of kidnappings, lynching, bombings, dismemberment, caged isolation, and, most particularly, what social scientist Orlando Patterson names “social death.”29 What causes this phenomenon and what sustained it throughout the history of Africans in America? Patterson names two conceptions of social death.Where one had no social existence outside the dominant power structure, one was considered to be “socially dead,” or if one was “ritually incorporated as the permanent enemy—‘the 141

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domestic enemy,’ because [one] was the product of a hostile, alien culture,” one was considered socially dead.30 The latter definition serves as the locus of meaning for the hostility that black bodies experience in the face of murderous police brutality.Arguably, because they are thought of as products of an alien culture, killing them appears justifiable to police. If one is socially dead, one’s physical death has no value. Reflecting upon the circumstances of Dr. King’s assassination, of note is the theory that many critical thinkers continue to hold: Dr. King was murdered by the “nation state” through a conspiratorial machination by which James Earl Ray was tethered and marked as scapegoat. Dr. King’s death caused feelings of despair and hopelessness to surface within the black communities of this nation because the police did not serve and protect one so revered.The suspicion around the actual perpetrator and whether justice has been served presents an eerily parallel view of the numerous black deaths in recent times at the hands of the police, an apparatus of the state.The circumstances surrounding the recent police killings of black genius across the nation point to black communities’ continued distrust of police departments. Black communities are traumatized by the ineffable lack of response to these recent deaths within American jurisprudence. Black communities rioted in frustration at the death of Dr. King, and nearly every attempt to seek justice in the criminal justice system for the lives lost in recent times leaves families hurt and disillusioned. The multifaceted effect of this growing trend in the face of massacres such as that in Charleston, South Carolina at Mother Emanuel Church evidence the conspiratorial nature of this phenomenon, where nine faithful, law-abiding citizens were fatally gunned down and where Dylann Storm Roof, the perpetrator, declared that his mission was “to start a race war.” This is particularly so when one compares the arrest of James Earl Ray, who was ushered into America by white police officers after extradition, wearing a bulletproof vest and “safety pants” to protect him, and the arrest of Dylann Storm Roof, the convicted murderer at Mother Emmanuel Church, who was taken to Burger King for a burger and fries after his arrest.31 Moreover, the recent show of bravado and murderous insolence in Charlottesville,VA by torch-bearing neo-Nazis, white nationalists, white supremacists such as the KKK and their sympathizers, adds inflection to the voice of ideologues perpetuating a belief that gunning down black genius is an overarching ethos of American patriotic values. Consequently, this ideology seeps into governmental structures and produces racist governance in the areas of city planning, financial opportunities, infrastructure amenities, growth, and development. Blight and neglect tend to follow the residential areas of racialized minorities in Nashville. Legislatively, poor Nashville communities tend to receive far less in governmental support than predominantly white communities on a range of societal concerns including zoning, community renewal investment, food deserts, excessive taxing, and access to healthcare. Public education suffers from a growing trend evident in cities across the US—a failure in literacy overall. In fact, Nashville’s 2016 Education Report Card conducted by a local commission recommended that “Metro Schools should engage community partners in developing a citywide plan and timeline to ensure early-grade (K-2) literacy by May, 2017.”32 Moreover, a residential crisis created by sophisticated real estate developers breeds gentrification—the displacement of lowincome and limited-income citizens from their long-term homes caused by new construction and development, which makes retaining housing in their familiar locale unattainable due to the rising costs of the new market. In turn, the new market affords the “gentry” the opportunity to both build new vistas of living and also claim New Market tax credit for the systematic displacement of racialized minorities.Who challenges the false prophecy of a carceral nation-state? What interventions must be employed to foster liberation for those condemned by a nationstate obsessed with itself and oblivious to the common interest of the people? It is those who are attentive to the cry of the children; those who will not be silent in the face of multiple sites of 142

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suffering, and those who envision, articulate, and codify hope for the marginalized. In Nashville, the collective experience of the faithful ordinary dictated a particular religious response. The community’s response was to demand justice. The cultural transmission of this religious claim mediated through various modalities: marching, door-knocking, petitioning, prayer vigils, chanting, and singing. In the aftermath, the existing system did not respond favorably. Instead of retreating, the people worked to change the laws.They would not be denied.Their will overtook the powers of elected officials to rewrite the laws.The people in their collective will caused the “ark of the moral universe to bend toward justice.”33

The lives Just as the investigation into the shooting death of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. is mired with controversy, the deaths of many young black folks in cities across the country and particularly these in Nashville offered the multi-racial coalition, determined to bring about justice, some sobering truths.Tennessee officially declined to reopen the case regarding Dr. King’s death, despite evidence that there were co-conspirators to the murder. In what has been dubbed the largest investigation in Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) history, the lack of attention to the evidence of a conspiracy involving state actors closely resembles the cursory treatment of dubious attempts at prosecution of the plethora murders of black genius at the present moment.Trayvon Martin was killed by gunshot on February 26, 2012 at Twin Lakes Apartment Complex, 11500 Myrtlewood Dr., Sanford, Florida, amid allegations that he posed a threat to a quasi-law enforcement personnel while walking home from a convenience store in his father’s neighborhood. George Zimmerman, his killer, was acquitted of all charges. In 2014, a New York cop, Daniel Pantaleo, avoided prosecution when a New York Grand Jury failed to indict him on charges stemming from the choking death of Eric Garner on Bay street in Staten Island, despite the fact that the murder was captured on video.Also, in 2014, Michael Brown was killed in the middle of Canfield Drive in Ferguson, Missouri, and Tamir Rice, a 12-year-old black boy, was gunned down by police while playing with a toy gun in the park alone at Cudell Recreation Center on West Boulevard in Cleveland, Ohio.This horrific incident was captured on video; however, no true bill of indictment was returned. Similarly, the District Attorney in Nashville issued a formal statement indicating that he would not pursue charges against Officer Lippert in the killing of Jocques Clemmons. Few police officers have been indicted in the face of overwhelming evidence that actions taken by the police were overzealous and lethal in ways that could have been avoided. Officer Andrew Delke was indicted and faces a jury trial on a 1st Degree Murder charge for the shooting death of Daniel Hambrick. The people of Nashville stood up against the inherent bias of the police and demanded that Delke face charges. However, the deaths of Christian Taylor in Arlington, Texas, Alton B. Sterling in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, Paul O’Neal and LaQuan McDonald in Chicago, Illinois, Keith Lamont Scott in Charlotte, North Carolina, and many others point to systemic racism and justify a critical exploration of the criminal justice system. Moreover, there is a growing ideology that police misconduct is off-limits to criminal prosecution.The death of Sandra Bland in Prairie View,Texas, Akai Gurley in Brooklyn, New York, and Walter L. Scott in North Charleston, South Carolina embolden the tendency to whitewash prosecution where protracted trial dockets hold out the potential for a semblance of justice or where lesser charges are offered for reduced guilty pleas. Concomitantly, the cases in which a jury is seated point to the burgeoning occurrence of not guilty verdicts or deadlocked juries, as seen in the attempted prosecution of officers in the death of Freddie Gray in Baltimore, Maryland, Philando Castile in Falcon Heights, Minnesota, Terrence Crutcher in Tulsa, Oklahoma and Samuel DuBose in Cincinnati, Ohio. 143

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The mind of the people to work figures prominently in the overwhelming global community response at the murder-by-police of George Floyd, May 25, 2020 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. After seeing video footage of Officer Derek Chauvin, Minneapolis Police Department, choke the life out of Floyd, hundreds of thousands of people took to the streets in protest, all over the world.34 The people rose up and demanded police reform in response to the 8:46 minutes that Chauvin pressed his knee upon Floyd’s neck while three other officers held Floyd’s legs.35 The vicious, brutal nature of this murder laid bare the race-based animus operating in some police departments around the globe. Calls for justice could not be ignored as people poured into the city streets. Black Lives Matter, organized as worldwide cells of consciousness, led the peaceful protests to a crescendo that effectuated change in many police departments including Metro Nashville Police Department.36 When I was a young child, my mother and grandmother would often stop their daily routines to watch soap operas. There was one “story,” as they called them, entitled Days of Our Lives. What a sordid mess the characters confronted: competitiveness, infidelity, insecurity, passion, jealousy, and avarice. In the daily portrayal of the lives of those characters, there emerged certain patterns that I find eerily parallel to the days of our lives. In our lives, on a daily basis, Black Americans witness firsthand the destruction in real time of the very semblance of the democracy that we have come to cherish. Americans have long held the belief that the US is built upon three separate branches of government (executive, legislative, and judicial) with the ability to bring checks and balances to one another.Yet, the three branches of government are reduced to a level of dysfunction so steeped in racism that it has now gripped the very workings of government to a complete halt on multiple occasions. It resembles a soap opera; but, the impact is real to our lives. The presence of brutality is so real that one ponders what will become of our lives. Will we survive? The great warrior poet Audre Lorde would tell us from her poem “A Litany for Survival,” that “we were never meant to survive.”37 On the issue of survival, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. espoused a view in his famous “I Have a Dream” speech on the Lincoln Memorial, August 28, 1963 that his “four little children would one day not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”That was a high and lofty ideal, one born of a vision of America as a place where those children would be dealing with rational people who would not seek to render them invisible, but rather seek to acknowledge their good character. However, as we reconnoiter the landscape of America’s philosophical ethos in this present moment, it is abundantly clear that we must once again revalue the color of our skin, and also name its import to our lives and maintain a connection to it for our survival.The Harvard University scholar Henry Louis “Skip” Gates has impeccable character; but, on the basis of his color, he was arrested, transported to jail, and booked for disorderly conduct at his own home, on his own street, in his own neighborhood in this America.38 It is no less a categorical imperative to declare that Black Lives Matter than it is to conclude that skies are blue. For it is in the ideological crevices that we find sophisticated tricksters contaminating the truth. Dr. King’s dream, spoken almost 60 years ago, is used by ultra conservatives to reduce Dr. King to puppetry in order to express bedrock views opposing affirmative action and programs intended to help the disadvantaged. Many of Dr. King’s words have been used to usher in the colorblind narrative.The truth is that black lives really do matter. Rather than accepting that truth as an unconditional moral obligation, which means it is binding in all circumstances and is neither dependent on individual inclination nor manipulated for sinister purpose, we are met with “social death.” It is this phenomenon that instinctively causes young black men to run when they see white officers approaching them. Social death condemns them

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before there is an inquiry.There is a presumption that, if they run, they must have done something. It matters not whether there is any evidence to the contrary. Social death, by Patterson’s standards, moves the analysis of enslavement beyond the conclusion that our ancestors were considered by the dominant culture as mere chattel or property; but rather stresses the centrality of the sociological, symbolic, and ideological factors interwoven within the slavery system. Relations of inequality or domination, which exist whenever one person has more power than another, range on a continuum for those of marginal asymmetry to those in which one person is capable of exercising, with impunity, total power over another.39 This is instructive as we consider our lives, because it forces us to acknowledge our deaths— social, mental, and physical. It is cyclic. The power relation has three facets.The first is social and involves the use or threat of violence in the control of one person by another.The second is the psychological facet of influence, the capacity to persuade another person to change the way he perceives his interests and his circumstances.And third is the cultural facet of authority,“the means of transforming force into right, and obedience into duty which, according to Jean Jacques Rousseau, the powerful find necessary ‘to ensure them continual mastership.”40 The declaration that our lives matter has its antecedents: “I am a Man,” “Black is beautiful,” “Say it loud, I’m black and I’m proud,” all of those phrases of affirmation served to make that same definitive statement: that you cannot appreciate the content of our character if you cannot recognize the sacredness of our black bodies for our black lives. The pronoun in the genitive case indicates ownership.

The movement In Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s last sermon at the National Cathedral in Washington, DC, March 31, 1968, before his assassination four days later, he spoke from the thought “Remaining Awake Through a Great Revolution” Dr. King said: It may well be that we will have to repent in this generation. Not merely for the vitriolic words and the violent actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence and indifference of the good people who sit around and say, ‘Wait on time.’ Somewhere we must come to see that human progress never rolls in on the wheels of inevitability. It comes through the tireless efforts and the persistent work of dedicated individuals who are willing to be co-workers with God. And without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the primitive forces of social stagnation. So we must help time and realize that the time is always ripe to do right.41 What is the movement for cities today? Marian Wright Edelman asks. that too many Americans would rather celebrate than follow Dr. King. Many have enshrined Dr. King the dreamer and ignored Dr. King the ‘disturber of all unjust peace,’ as theologian Vincent Harding said. Many remember King the vocal opponent of violence, but not the King who called for massive nonviolent civil disobedience to challenge the stockpiling of weapons of death and the wars they fuel, and the excessive

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materialism of the greedy, which deprives the needy of the basic necessities of life.And many celebrate Dr. King the orator, but ignore his words about the need for reordering the misguided values and national investment priorities he believed are the seeds of America’s downfall.42 What established a movement for Dr. King and concomitantly defines his effectiveness is a flatfooted commitment to the truth, a consistent resistance to evil, the rebuke of fear, and a steadfast march toward his mark no matter the disparaging and often discouraging signs of the times. His hope was built; first, in the Spirit. It is what Lewis Baldwin and Victor Anderson name in the edited volume, Revives My Soul Again:The Spirituality of Martin Luther King, Jr., as “his deep engagement with the life of the spirit.”43 That is why no matter who was disloyal to King along the way, no matter who was backbiting or snitching, no matter how many police Billie clubs he dodged, no matter how long the day—he pressed on. Dr. King’s commitment was to his people both to have better and to do better; but, he was powered by the Spirit. He took his case to the streets in protest and resistance, and the black community followed.When he announced a Poor People’s Campaign it was a rallying cry for change. We are going to bring the tired, the poor, the huddled masses . . . We are going to bring children and adults and old people, people who have never seen a doctor or a dentist in their lives . . .We are not coming to engage in any histrionic gesture.We are not coming to tear up Washington. We are coming to demand that the government address itself to the problem of poverty.We read one day, ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.’ But if a man doesn’t have a job or an income, he has neither life nor liberty nor the possibility for the pursuit of happiness. He merely exists. We are coming to ask America to be true to the huge promissory note that it signed years ago. And we are coming to engage in dramatic nonviolent action, to call attention to the gulf between promise and fulfillment; to make the invisible visible.Why do we do it this way? We do it this way because it is our experience that the nation doesn’t move around questions of genuine equality for the poor and for black people until it is confronted massively, dramatically in terms of direct action . . .And I submit that nothing will be done until people of goodwill put their bodies and their souls in motion.44 Our movements today are faced with those and even greater challenges, which compellingly require no less gravitas. Dr. King was a giant in his faith. However, it is the work of the “faithful ordinary” comprising a strong coalition of people from a plethora of faith traditions coming together under the universal commitment to justice and equality that moves the needle in communities such as Nashville. Protestants, Mormons, Jews, agnostics, spiritual-but-not-religious, and those in between formed the grassroots support for Nashville’s Community Benefits Agreement.They recognized that, through the lens of faith, they could see greater possibilities for what Linell E. Cady describes as a common public life.45 Modernity’s panopticon—the surveilling eye—presents itself in the post-modern context as the protracted, super-masculine power of the nation-state spiraling out of control. Proliferating and propagating fiction versus truth, the nation-state of post-modernity manufactures social control through selective truth. America’s criminal justice system evolved from this frame. Its prophecy is bondage. Its historical genealogy suggests, in the words of Stuart Hall, “what is at issue here is the foundation of truth that science has performed within modern cultural systems from the 146

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eighteenth century onward.”46 That foundation pushes human beings into the shadows of existence.That is why the rate of incarceration produced by the American criminal justice system far exceeds that of any other nation.The mass incarceration, largely of black people, therefore signifies the complex nature of existence for the incarcerated well beyond the period of incarceration. The formerly incarcerated, their families and communities, experience any period of incarceration as a literal life sentence; severely impoverished, politically disenfranchised, and reduced to perpetual existential crisis. Social movements are an important aspect of how cities are called to moral responsibility.The Movement for Black Lives embraces this conceptual framework.The work of community organizing that embraces the fight for $15 per hour as a living wage, the dignity to work, prison abolition, immigration reform, fully funded public education is a religious response to racist governance. It is religion as orientation toward justice where participation means an articulation of the “temporal and spatial dimensions relative to systems of oppression.”47 We all must get in where we fit in and work.That is why Nashville formed a coalition with the work progressing on the justice front to address the issues of marginalized racialized segments of the population who are left out in city planning. Stand Up Nashville is a coalition of community organizations and labor unions committed to equality for the working people of Nashville; it tries to ensure that community growth through development offers opportunities for all Nashvillians through accountability demanded from elected officials to guarantee “that all communities may benefit from the growth of our city.”48 Maura Lee Albert, a leader with Stand Up Nashville reflects that: Our Union (SEIU Local 205) did not directly benefit from a Community Benefits Agreement (CBA) with Nashville Soccer Holdings. However, it is paramount that for our community to do better we all need to do better; this was understood by all the leaders within SEIU.We also understood that if there is a large project that is receiving tax payer incentives or financing, it is crucial that we demand basic standards in exchange for this public help. It was out of this idea that we were able to engage with other community organizations and labor unions to unite under the idea of a CBA. Any written document that we could legally defend was better than hoping for a benevolent contractor and a few low-paying hospitality jobs. As Maura Lee Albert suggests, the connection between labor unions and the fight for a Community Benefits Agreement that Stand Up Nashville launched signifies the intersectional nature of the work they each do.The labor unions saw a nexus between the city’s plans to allow Nashville Soccer Holdings to develop a soccer stadium as an opportunity to lock down job opportunities for Nashvillians. Moreover, the agreement built in affordable housing, childcare opportunities, entrepreneurial opportunities, and jobs. In coalition, local clergy from Islamic centers, synagogues, churches, and Jewish temples offered prayers, often on the courthouse steps, to move the agenda of the Community Benefits Agreement.

Conclusion The focus upon racial injustice in this essay is to illuminate the disparities seen by racial minorities over the course of the last half-century from the perspectives of academia, clergy, activism, and concerned citizens. Remembering the death of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. after 50 years serves the dual purpose of theological reflection that offers a platform for cross-disciplinary review of the issues surrounding the murder of black genius. This phenomenon provides a segue into the mounting communal engagement that represents the communal response to racist governance.The academy and the community have the unique opportunity to exchange 147

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wisdom from the lived experience of black people in cities across America in tandem with the intersectional components that bear witness to the events giving rise to disproportionate representation of racial minorities in the criminal justice system, as impacted by gentrification, in educational displacement, and by income and housing inequity. Today’s social movements are many and multifaceted to meet the attacks from an ecosystem of oppressions which are strategic and multivalent.All over the country there is a move to re-segregate public schools, to gentrify neighborhoods, to corral undesirables.The plan dispatched over a significant period of time is most advanced in Little Rock,Arkansas, the home of the Little Rock 9. There, the State Board of Education has taken over the predominantly black school districts, refused to honor teacher contracts, and statutorily extended their time with which to declare all of the schools as underperforming so that they can then favor “public choice” vouchers.49 That move gives select people the ability to privatize public education.The same move is underway in Nashville and in other cities in America.50 In higher education, another example involves the ultraconservative, right wing lobby having succeeded in pitting one minority group against the others to favor Asian-American plaintiffs in lawsuits against Harvard University et al. to eliminate race as a factor in admissions.That is to say, this lawsuit makes the claim that the consideration of “race” as an admission criterion should be eliminated because it unfairly privileges certain minorities’ admission to these Ivy League schools.51 This is a direct attack on affirmative action and one that, in the long run, could cause a significant decline in minority student admission in higher education. Further scholarly investigation is indicated to draw parallels in the historical record that point to the dialing back of certain freedoms.The nexus between the gains won during the Civil Rights Movement and the changing, increasingly conservative landscape in all branches of government indicates a growing trend toward reinscribing racial prejudice as the dominant norm for how governments operate.The public theological response that Nashville’s faithful ordinary demonstrate is a model for others to follow. The responsibility assumed by the faithful ordinary in Nashville proved Dr. King’s axiom that “the time is always ripe to do right.”52 Religion that is oriented toward justice effects social change in cities through coalition-building among like-minded people—the people who have a mind to work.

Notes 1 Christine Kreyling, The Plan of Nashville:Avenues to a Great City (Nashville:Vanderbilt University Press, 2005), p. 5. 2 Tony Gonzalez, “Curious Nashville: How the ‘Black Bottom’ Neighborhood Got Its Name — And Lost It,” WPLN News—Nashville Public Radio, June 17, 2016, https://wpln.org/post/curious-nash ville-how-the-black-bottom-neighborhood-got-its-name-and-lost-it/. 3 Kim Severson, “Nashville’s Latest Big Hit Could Be the City Itself,” The New York Times, January 8, 2013, www.nytimes.com/2013/01/09/us/nashville-takes-its-turn-in-the-spotlight.html. 4 Nashville Banner, Gannett Company, Nashville Banner Reporter, reference files, Nashville Public Library Special Collections, 1907. 5 Tony Gonzalez,“To Restore Jefferson Street, Nashville Considers a ‘Land Bridge’ Over I-40,”WPLN News—Nashville Public Radio, July 13, 2016, https://wpln.org/post/to-restore-jefferson-streetnashville-considers-a-land-bridge-over-i-40/. 6 Nashville I-40 Steering Committee et al., Plaintiffs=appellants, v. Buford Ellington, Governor et al., Defendants=appellees, 387 F.2d 179 (U.S. Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit 1968). 7 Taylor Branch, Parting the Waters:America in the King Years, 1954–1963 (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1988). 8 Victor Anderson, “An American Public Theology in the Absence of Giants: Creative Conflict and Democratic Longings,” in Ethics that Matters:African, Caribbean, and African American Sources, eds, Marcia Riggs and James Samuel Logan (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2012), p. 198. 9 Ibid., p. 214.

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The religious narrative for justice 10 Charles H. Long,“Passage and Prayer:The Origin of Religion in the Atlantic World,” in The Courage to Hope: From Black Suffering to Human Redemption, eds, Quinton Hosford Dixie and Cornel West (Boston: Beacon Press, 1999), pp. 11–21. 11 Ibid., p. 19. 12 Ray Waddle, “Days of Thunder: The Lawson Affair,” Vanderbilt Magazine, Fall 2002, pp. 34–43, http:// hdl.handle.net/1803/3279. 13 Ibid. 14 Civil Rights Digital Library: Documenting America’s Struggle for Racial Equality, “WSB-TV Newsfilm Clip of an Interview with Civil Rights Lawyer and City Councilman Alexander Looby after His Home Was Bombed in Nashville,Tennessee, 1960 April 19.” Accessed October 24, 2019, http:// dlg.galileo.usg.edu/crdl/id:ugabma_wsbn_40260. 15 Gideon’s Army, “Driving While Black: A Report on Racial Profiling in Metro Nashville Police Department Traffic Stops,” October 25, 2016, https://drivingwhileblacknashville.files.wordpress.com/ 2016/10/driving-while-black-gideons-army.pdf. 16 “A Rebuttal to MNPD’s Response to ‘Driving While Black’ Report,” Driving While Black (blog), December 6, 2016, https://drivingwhileblacknashville.wordpress.com/2016/12/06/a-rebuttal-tomnpds-response-to-driving-while-black-report/. 17 “Complaint of the Estate of Jocques Scott Clemmons,Deceased, against The Metropolitan Government of Nashville and Davidson County, and Danny Satterfield,” Case 3:18-cv-00133, February 9, 2018, https://scotblog.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/Clemmons-Complaint.pdf. 18 Ted Alcorn, “Who Will Hold the Police Accountable?,” The Atlantic, July 25, 2019, www.theatlantic. com/politics/archive/2019/07/battle-over-police-accountability/594484/. 19 “Photo Gallery,”The Promise:A Special Podcast Series from Nashville Public Radio, accessed October 24, 2019, http://thepromise.wpln.org/photo-gallery/. 20 Bobbi Negrón, accessed February 21, 2020, www.facebook.com/bobbilynnegron/videos/d41d8cd9/ 10162575853670006/. 21 Sekou Franklin, interview by the author, September 20, 2019. Dr. Franklin is Associate Professor, Political Science and International Relations, College of Liberal Arts at Middle Tennessee State University. 22 Ted Alcorn,“Who Will Hold the Police Accountable?” 23 Louis Benjamin Rolsky, “Charles H. Long and the Re-Orientation of American Religious History,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 80, no. 3 (September 2012): pp. 750–74, https://doi. org/10.1093/jaarel/lfs045. 24 Estate of Daniel Hambrick v. Metropolitan Government of Nashville-Davidson County, Tennessee, Case No. 3:19-cv–00216. 25 Sekou Franklin, interview by the author September 20, 2019. 26 Ibid. 27 Charter Referendum (via Citizens/People): The Charter allows an alternative to the Metro council referendum process. The people/citizens can place a Charter revision on the ballot for a popular vote. However, the petitioners must collect thousands of petitions equivalent to 10% of the total number of voters in the previous local, general election. All petitioners must be registered and their addresses on the petitions must match the addresses on their voter registration information at the election commission. Based on the property tax assessor race (the last local, general election), a citizen-led petition drive will mostly likely require 6,500 valid petitions. If this is accomplished, then the election commission will have three weeks to verify them. If they are verified, then it goes up for a county-wide vote in the next election.The challenge is four-fold: the legal language on the petition has to be strong; all petitions must be valid (this is much harder than one thinks) because the bar for validating petitioners is actually higher than used in non-Charter Referendum elections; the group has to prepare and raise money for a popular election; and the state can still overturn the referendum. Briefing Package prepared by Rev. Sekou Franklin. 28 Joey Garrison, “Nashville Amendment 1 for Police Oversight Board Passes Overwhelmingly,” November 7, 2018, tennessean.com, accessed October 25, 2019, www.tennessean.com/story/news/ politics/tn-elections/2018/11/06/nashville-amendment-1-police-oversight-board-appears-trackpassage/1734253002/. 29 Orlando Patterson, Slavery and Social Death:A Comparative Study (MA: Harvard University Press, 1982), p. 39. 30 Ibid.

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Teresa L. Smallwood 31 “King’s Assassination: A Timeline,” American Experience. Accessed October 19, 2019 www.pbs.org/ wgbh/americanexperience/features/memphis-hunt/. 32 Nashville Area Chamber of Commerce, Education Report Card, Twenty-fifth Edn (Nashville, Tennessee, 2016), https://s3.amazonaws.com/nashvillechamber.com/PDFs/2016_Education_Report_Card.pdf. 33 Mychal Denzel Smith,“The Truth about ‘The Arc of the Moral Universe,’” HuffPost, January 18, 2018, www.huffpost.com/entry/opinion-smith-obama-king_n_5a5903e0e4b04f3c55a252a4. 34 Helen Regan, Brett McKeehan, Rob Picheta, Peter Wilkinson, Fernando Alfonso, III, and Amir Vera, “June 6 George Floyd Protest News.” CNN, June 7, 2020. www.cnn.com/us/live-news/george-floydprotests-06-06-20/index.html. 35 Paul P. Murphy, “New Video Appears to Show Three Police Officers Kneeling on George Floyd,” CNN, June 3, 2020. www.cnn.com/2020/05/29/us/george-floyd-new-video-officers-kneel-trnd/ index.html. 36 Jorge, Kaylin,“Nashville Police Chief Anderson Retiring Amid Calls for Resignation,” June 18, 2020, https://fox17.com/news/local/nashville-police-chief-retiring-amid-calls-for-resignation. 37 Audre Lorde, The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde, First Edn (New York:W.W. Norton Company, 1997), p. 255. 38 Abby Goodnough, “Harvard Professor Jailed; Officer Is Accused of Bias,” The New York Times, July 20, 2009, www.nytimes.com/2009/07/21/us/21gates.html. Henry Louis “Skip” Gates is a prominent, long-term Harvard scholar of African American History who was arrested at his own home by Boston police while investigating an alleged robbery in progress. Gates, who had just returned home from a trip to China, was presumed to be an intruder. After insisting to the officer that this was his home, he was placed under arrest despite supplying the officer with his Massachusetts driving license and his Harvard identification. Charges were later dropped. 39 Patterson, Slavery and Social Death, p. 1. 40 Patterson, Slavery and Social Death, pp. 1–2. 41 Marian Wright Edelman, “The Time Is Always Right to Do Right,” Children’s Defense Fund, April 1, 2016, www.childrensdefense.org/child-watch-columns/health/2016/the-time-is-always-right-todo-right/. 42 Ibid. 43 Lewis V. Baldwin and Victor Anderson, eds, Revives My Soul Again:The Spirituality of Martin Luther King, Jr. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2018), p. 1. 44 Wolfgang Mieder, “Making a Way Out of No Way”: Martin Luther King’s Sermonic Proverbial Rhetoric (New York: Peter Lang, 2010), pp. 126–7. 45 Linell Elizabeth Cady, Religion, Theology, and American Public Life, SUNY Series in Religious Studies (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993), p. 99. 46 Stuart Hall, The Fateful Triangle: Race, Ethnicity, Nation, ed., Kobena Mercer,The W.E.B. Du Bois Lectures (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2017), p. 56. 47 Rolsky,“Charles H. Long and the Re-Orientation,” pp. 750–74. 48 “Who We Are,” Stand Up Nashville.Accessed October 25, 2019, https://standupnashville.org/about/. 49 Max Brantley,“School Vouchers Take Center Stage,” Arkansas Blog (blog), March 25, 2019, https://ark times.com/arkansas-blog/2019/03/25/school-vouchers-take-center-stage. 50 Nancy MacLean, Democracy in Chains: The Deep History of the Radical Right’s Stealth Plan for America (New York:Viking, 2017). 51 Alexia Fernández Campbell, “The Harvard Admissions Case that Could End Affirmative Action, Explained,” Vox, October 2, 2019, www.vox.com/identities/2019/10/2/20894934/harvard-admis sions-case-affirmative-action. 52 Martin Luther King, Jr., “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” April 16, 1963, retrieved from Center for Africana Studies,University of Pennsylvania,www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham. html.

Bibliography Alcorn,Ted. “Who Will Hold the Police Accountable?” Atlantic. Accessed July 25, 2019. www.theatlantic. com/politics/archive/2019/07/battle-over-police-accountability/594484/. Anderson, Victor. “An American Public Theology in the Absence of Giants: Creative Conflict and Democratic Longings.” In Ethics That Matters: African, Caribbean, and African American Sources, eds, Marcia Riggs and James Samuel Logan (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2012), pp. 195–214.

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The religious narrative for justice Baldwin, Lewis V. and Victor Anderson, eds, Revives My Soul Again:The Spirituality of Martin Luther King Jr. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2018). Bobbi Negrón. Accessed February 21, 2020. www.facebook.com/bobbilynnegron/videos/d41d8cd9/ 10162575853670006/. Branch, Taylor. Parting the Waters: America in the King Years, 1954–1963 (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1988). Brantley, Max.“SchoolVouchers Take Center Stage.”Arkansas Blog (blog).Accessed March 25, 2019. https:// arktimes.com/arkansas-blog/2019/03/25/school-vouchers-take-center-stage. Cady, Linell Elizabeth. Religion, Theology, and American Public Life. SUNY Series in Religious Studies (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993). Campbell, Alexia Fernández. “The Harvard Admissions Case That Could End Affirmative Action, Explained.”Vox. Accessed October 2, 2019. www.vox.com/identities/2019/10/2/20894934/harvardadmissions-case-affirmative-action. Civil Rights Digital Library: Documenting America’s Struggle for Racial Equality. “WSB-TV Newsfilm Clip of an Interview with Civil Rights Lawyer and City Councilman Alexander Looby after His Home Was Bombed in Nashville,Tennessee, 1960 April 19.”Accessed October 24, 2019. http://crdl.usg.edu. Edelman, Marian Wright. “The Time Is Always Right to Do Right.” Children’s Defense Fund. Accessed April 1,2016.www.childrensdefense.org/child-watch-columns/health/2016/the-time-is-always-rightto-do-right/. Garrison, Joey. “Nashville Amendment 1: Police Oversight Board Passes Overwhelmingly.” Tennessean. Accessed November 6, 2018. www.tennessean.com/story/news/politics/tn-elections/2018/11/06/ nashville-amendment-1-police-oversight-board-appears-track-passage/1734253002/. Gideon’s Army.“Driving While Black:A Report on Racial Profiling in Metro Nashville Police Department Traffic Stops.” Accessed October 25, 2016, https://drivingwhileblacknashville.files.wordpress.com/ 2016/10/driving-while-black-gideons-army.pdf. Gonzalez, Tony. “Curious Nashville: How The ‘Black Bottom’ Neighborhood Got Its Name—And Lost It.” WPLN News - Nashville Public Radio. Accessed June 17, 2016. https://wpln.org/post/curious-nash ville-how-the-black-bottom-neighborhood-got-its-name-and-lost-it/. ———. “To Restore Jefferson Street, Nashville Considers a ‘Land Bridge’ Over I-40.” WPLN News— Nashville Public Radio. Accessed July 13, 2016. https://wpln.org/post/to-restore-jefferson-street-nash ville-considers-a-land-bridge-over-i-40/. Goodnough,Abby.“Harvard Professor Jailed; Officer Is Accused of Bias.” The New York Times. Accessed July 20, 2009. www.nytimes.com/2009/07/21/us/21gates.html. Hall, Stuart. The Fateful Triangle: Race, Ethnicity, Nation., ed., Kobena Mercer.The W.E.B. Du Bois Lectures (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2017). Jorge, Kaylin. “Nashville Police Chief Anderson Retiring Amid Calls for Resignation.” Accessed June 18, 2020. https://fox17.com/news/local/nashville-police-chief-retiring-amid-calls-for-resignation. King, Jr., Martin Luther.“Letter from a Birmingham Jail.”Accessed April 16, 1963. Retrieved from Center for Africana Studies, University of Pennsylvania. www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birm ingham.html. “King’s Assassination: A Timeline.” American Experience. www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/feat ures/memphis-hunt/. Kreyling, Christine. The Plan of Nashville: Avenues to a Great City (Nashville:Vanderbilt University Press, 2005). Long, Charles H. “Passage and Prayer: The Origin of Religion in the Atlantic World.” In The Courage to Hope: From Black Suffering to Human Redemption, eds, Quinton Hosford Dixie and Cornel West (Boston: Beacon Press, 1999), pp. 11–21. Lorde, Audre. The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde. First Edn (New York:W.W. Norton Company, 1997). MacLean, Nancy. Democracy in Chains:The Deep History of the Radical Right’s Stealth Plan for America (New York:Viking, 2017). Mieder, Wolfgang. “Making a Way out of No Way”: Martin Luther King’s Sermonic Proverbial Rhetoric (New York: Peter Lang, 2010). Murphy, Paul P. “New Video Appears to Show Three Police Officers Kneeling on George Floyd.” CNN. Accessed June 3, 2020. www.cnn.com/2020/05/29/us/george-floyd-new-video-officers-kneel-trnd/ index.html. Nashville Area Chamber of Congress. Education Report Card. Twenty-fifth Edn. Nashville, TN. 2016. https://s3.amazonaws.com/nashvillechamber.com/PDFs/2016_Education_Report_Card.pdf.

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Teresa L. Smallwood Nashville Banner, Gannett Company, Nashville Banner Reporter, reference files, Nashville Public Library Special Collections, 1907. Patterson, Orlando. Slavery and Social Death: A Comparative Study (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1982). “Photo Gallery.”The Promise:A Special Podcast Series from Nashville Public Radio.Accessed October 24, 2019. thepromise.wpln.org/photo-gallery/. “A Rebuttal to MNPD’s Response to ‘Driving While Black’ Report.” Driving While Black (blog). Accessed December 6, 2016. https://drivingwhileblacknashville.wordpress.com/2016/12/06/a-rebuttal-tomnpds-response-to-driving-while-black-report/. Regan, Helen, Brett McKeehan, Rob Picheta, Peter Wilkinson, Fernando Alfonso, III, and AmirVera.“June 6 George Floyd Protest News.” CNN.Accessed June 7, 2020. www.cnn.com/us/live-news/george-floydprotests-06-06-20/index.html. Rolsky, Louis Benjamin. “Charles H. Long and the Re-Orientation of American Religious History.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 80, no. 3 (2012): pp. 750–74. doi:10.1093/jaarel/lfs045. Severson, Kim.“Nashville’s Latest Big Hit Could Be the City Itself.” The New York Times. Accessed January 8, 2013. www.nytimes.com/2013/01/09/us/nashville-takes-its-turn-in-the-spotlight.html. Smith, Mychal Denzel.“The Truth about ‘The Arc of the Moral Universe.’” HuffPost.Accessed January 18, 2018. www.huffpost.com/entry/opinion-smith-obama-king_n_5a5903e0e4b04f3c55a252a4. Stand Up Nashville.“Who We Are.”Accessed October 25, 2019. https://standupnashville.org/about/. Waddle, Ray. “Days of Thunder: The Lawson Affair.” Vanderbilt Magazine. Fall 2002. hdl.handle. net/1803/3279.

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11 A FEMINIST THEO-ETHIC OF JUSTICE-SEEKING-LOVE FOR SMART URBANITES Samantha Cavanagh

In 2017, Waterfront Toronto1 issued a Request for Proposals (RFP) from private corporations for an innovations and funding partner to help develop a 12-acre parcel of publicly owned land in Toronto, Canada.The proposed site for development is along the eastern waterfront of the city, and it has been lying dormant as a brownfield and parking lot for decades. In response to this RFP, Sidewalk Labs—an urban innovations firm affiliated with Alphabet Inc. (a parent company to Google)—submitted a vision of a mixed-use and mixed-economy community for roughly 5,000 residents. Sidewalk proposed a plan which included the extensive use of sensors and cameras embedded into the built environment in order to track and more effectively respond to weather conditions, traffic patterns, energy output, and trash disposal.The plan also incorporated raincoats for buildings, shielding the sustainably built timber structures from snow and ice; self-driving cars; affordable housing; and a zero emissions “green” microgrid. In short, they proposed to build a smart neighborhood where sustainable and equitable development would transpire “from the internet up.”2 In May 2020, Sidewalk withdrew their proposal in light of the economic downturn caused by COVID-19. There is no agreed-upon definition of smart neighborhoods, smart cities, or smart urbanization (SU), but shared claims are discernible.As Martina Fromhold-Eisebith clarifies,“a smart city is first and foremost characterized by the strategic, systematic, and coordinated implementation of modern ICT (information and communication technologies) applications in a range of urban functional fields.”3 Smart urbanism includes the use of SMART tools—or “Self-Monitoring Analysis and Reporting Technology”—within the infrastructure and governance of a city. Smart urban interventions embed networking systems into the built environment so that the city, and to varying degrees the inhabitants of a city,4 produce data that can be monitored and analyzed in order to (among other claims) optimize city services. While the notion of the smart city is consistently centered around the use and integration of specific software and hardware technologies into the built environment, it is also widely employed (and often named) as an anthropological and ecological project, geared toward building cities that are more socially just and environmentally sustainable. Smart urbanism (SU) is being practiced across the globe as a solution to the ongoing and emerging problems for twenty-first-century urban life and governance. SU discourse and practice demonstrates “an eschatological optimism concerning the convergence between urban and IT developments.”5 It 153

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has become a beacon of promise, but also a site of significant criticism. Looking to the example of Sidewalk Labs, I will argue that all urban inhabitants, and Christians in particular, ought to be concerned about the vision of human life and city building that this SU project sought to articulate within the City of Toronto. In this chapter, I examine SU from a feminist theo-ethical perspective, which is to say, I approach the material practices and discursive logics of smart urbanization with concerns that are normative for this discipline. Feminist Christian social ethicists seek to understand what shapes our lives by examining specific contexts, complex standpoints, the relationship between the public and the private, ideological frameworks, and background conditions so that Christians, and all those who are called to pursue justice and love in public, might become better equipped to participate in the liberatory transformation of communities.6 I will examine smart city initiatives with concerns for how smart city practices foster or hinder just conditions between us.

Feminist theological ethics for smart urbanism For Christian feminist social ethics, effective political democracy is regarded as normative for seeking justice; that is, democratic systems and democratic accountabilities are used as ethical guideposts for moral-political decision-making. As feminist theological-ethicist Cynthia Moe-Lobeda argues, “what corrodes democracy is suspect from a perspective of Christian ethics.”7 The normative stance on democracy, however, necessitates that democracy be always critically examined and resisted as a “mythological single and universally normative theory and form.”8 The primary democratic goods that ought to function as normative for Christian ethics in all contexts, including the urban, are the meaningful participation of all who are included within its purview and political accountability to all of those who are impacted by this form of governance. To work toward democratically just conditions in these ways is to behave lovingly in public. Rather than considering justice and love as distinct or complementary moral norms, I proceed in this examination of smart city practices with the affirmation that love and justice flow out of and into one another. Following Moe-Lobeda’s proposal for a “justice-seeking-love,”9 I understand the norms of justice and love to be inherently bound up together as one.To seek justice in the urban context is to practice love; to act into and out of love in the urban public realm is to work for more-just cities. Christians in the urban context ought to be concerned with fostering just conditions in the city, and, in this case, with ensuring that the arrangements and procedures of smart technologies are being used justly and for just ends. In doing so, we contribute to building cities that are more loving—a direction aligned with Jesus’ moral invitation and invocation to love our neighbors as ourselves. Justice-seeking-love requires that all urban inhabitants have what they need to survive and thrive, proper representation within urban governance, and the opportunity for meaningful involvement in building cities “more after their hearts desire.”10 To utilize smart technologies lovingly and justly, significant participation and input from all who will be impacted by these interventions must be ensured, the wellbeing of the most vulnerable among us must be a priority, and effective oversight of smart innovations by our democratically elected officials must be guaranteed.These are the criteria I will be employing as I engage and assess the logics and material arrangements of one smart city example, the case study of Sidewalk Labs’ plan for Toronto. The sources I will draw upon to support this engagement and assessment include materialist sociology, Marxist urban theories, and selections from the unfolding news cycle that emerged in response to Sidewalk Labs’ plan for smart urbanization in Toronto. I engage these distinctly 154

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non-religious sources with the overarching theo-ethical concern for justice and love for diverse urban life; I turn to these sources to gain the critical knowledge necessary for understanding SU in this context and in order to assess what kinds of social arrangements were embedded within their proposal.

Public–private partnerships (P3s) for smart urbanism To concretize my examination of the wide and diverse set of practices and material arrangements that are included within the designation of the smart city, I evaluate the case study of Sidewalk Labs, and their retracted proposal for a smart neighborhood in Toronto, Canada, the city in which I reside. In considering this example, the concerns and stakeholders are not limited to those at the local level; enmeshed in this representative case are a multi-national conglomerate, a sister corporation in Google, three levels of government, and SU practices and theories that (materially and discursively) span scalar regions. Although the Sidewalk Labs’Toronto project known as Quayside was proposed for a particular municipality in Canada, the intent of the project was clearly oriented toward developing tools and strategies to be exported to cities around the world.Toronto was being proposed as a living urban laboratory for Sidewalk’s broader corporate ambition to develop and deploy smart city technologies that they could market to other contexts. In selecting this example, my engagement of smart city technologies will primarily be centered around issues that can arise within public–private partnerships (P3s) for smart city interventions. Partnerships between public and private sectors are frequent within smart city practices, since the public sector simply cannot keep pace with private tech corporations in the research and development of smart tools and practices, and because private corporations can more swiftly effectuate these approaches and tools. Sidewalk, like other smart urban technology firms and corporations, identifies these problems in the public realm of city building as opportunities for development. The private tech sector needs the public sphere as a field (or, in this case, a laboratory) for smart urban technology development.To develop smart urban technology at all, the private tech sector requires data from urban life.These collaborative relationships between public and private sectors for smart city interventions ought to be closely monitored, for the values, rationales, and goals are often (or ought to be) distinct for private- and public-democratic entities. P3s for SU must be scrutinized to ensure that the city does not become privatized, democratic processes are not trumped, and city governance is not commandeered for private gain. From the lens of Christian feminist theological ethics, it is incumbent upon all inhabitants who are impacted by city building through P3s to engage in such scrutiny, since P3s have the capacity to circumvent our moral agency as urban inhabitants by delimiting democracy.This, in effect, damages our moral-spiritual imaginations and faculties for building urban spheres where norms of love and justice can become translated into practices that respect and protect diverse human, and other-than-human life. Publicly owned land within urban centers ought to be maintained as assets held in common so that we can continually press for these spaces and places to respond to the needs and desires of urban inhabitants. Privatization of the city must be resisted so that just conditions might be lovingly pursued.

Private corporations for the public good? Sidewalk’s corporate goal is to “reimagine cities to improve quality of life.”11 However, we must actively inquire into whether or not this corporation, and the private sector more broadly, can 155

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be truly motivated by the public good, or made responsible for the public good. Sidewalk is an urban technology company founded in 2015 as a Google corporation before Google became a subsidiary of Alphabet. Sidewalk emerged out of Google as its founders considered “all the things you could do if someone would just give us a city and put us in charge.”12 Sidewalk Labs and Google have been presented as separate corporations, although they are both owned by Alphabet (which is run by Google’s founders). As vocal Sidewalk critic and digital privacy advocate Bianca Wylie explains, Alphabet has a history of merging its companies, and pieces of its companies, into Google—and then back out again. Proximity to Google’s technical proficiency is pulled out when it’s appealing, such as when questions of data security are raised, or when economic development claims are made, then walked back when it’s not.13 The clear distinctions between these corporations simply do not exist; in order to assess the trustworthiness of Sidewalk, we also must consider that it is a byproduct (with ongoing and foundational connections) of Google, and thereby also evaluate the reputation of Google itself. While Google’s corporate code of conduct formerly included the motto “don't be evil,”14 its track record is rife with human rights violations and harmful behavior.That is, their corporate conduct continues to institutionalize egregious patterns of relating within their institution, as well as within the communities that use and are used by its tools.The following are but a handful of examples. In 2018, 20,000 Google employees staged a walkout in 50 cities across the world. Employees at every level left their workplace in order to “demand an end to the sexual harassment, discrimination, and the systemic racism that fuel this destructive culture.”15 To cover up a culture of misconduct, allegations against executives at Google have frequently resulted in large severance packages for those accused, enabling abuse and unethical behavior to continue within this context.16 Of the seven organizers of this walkout, four have since resigned—two claiming that Google retaliated against them for their organizing.17 Second, since 2017, Google has held a contract with the United States Department of Defense, assisting with Project Maven, where they were developing (and continue to develop, despite stating an end to this project in 2018) AI surveillance tools for drone warfare technology.18 Finally, but certainly not conclusively, in Project Dragonfly, Google planned to launch a censored search engine in China, which would weed out broad categories of information to users including sites related to human rights, religious freedom, peaceful protest, and democracy. Inside sources say this project, which was supposed to have been suspended because of the internal and external backlash it received once it was made public, is in fact still in development.19 In each of these examples, Google’s orientation toward financial gain as the bottom line is clear. The ideals that undergird Google include the commodification of everyday life through the collection and capitalization of users’ data. Google accepts and hides harm done to its employees, and some of the projects and tools they develop participate in anti-democratic and militaristic conditions around the world.These offenses and practices are frequently hidden from the view of the casual Google user, many of whom rely on the good that Google offers to their lives as a near-monopoly search engine.

Google’s wrongdoings as sin and evil In the language of Christian ethics, these patterns of relating are evil. Cynthia Moe-Lobeda offers the perspective that sin and evil are that which disorient us “from right relationship with 156

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God, which then leads to disorientation from right relationship with self, others, and all of creation.”20 Sin and evil exist in the form of individual wrongdoings, but more so, liberative and feminist theological ethics are concerned with the structural shape of sin.The sins that Google enables and perpetuates include individual acts of wrongdoing, but the insidiousness of their behavior takes place within the globalized structures of the military–industrial complex, sexist and misogynist abuse culture, and totalitarianism. As feminist theologian Ivone Gebara argues, the everydayness and hiddenness of structural evil is what helps to perpetuate it; evil transpires because sinful patterns of relating can become “so mixed up in our existence that we can live in it without even taking account of it as evil.”21 Our dependence on Google in light of their stranglehold on the internet through the reaches of its search platform, operating systems, and tools, corporate relatives and subsidiaries has already rendered this corporate force entirely mixed up in our everyday life. As Gebara suggests, our dependence on social structures and institutions that perpetuate evil lead many of us to accept these sinful conditions as a matter of fate.22 Because of Google’s ubiquitous presence in virtual life, it can feel impossible to opt out of and contest. For liberative Christian ethics and feminist theological ethics more specifically, a frequent first methodological and practical step in doing the work of resisting evil is to recognize it as such. Knowing about Google’s ongoing history of burying sexual assault, as well as their track record of creating technologies for anti-democratic practice and militarism, allows us to name this corporation as harmful to our neighbors, and it allows us to be able to more critically asses them as a potential partner in SU. The values Google operates by and the sinful patterns of relations they enact and perpetuate are in direct contradiction to Christian norms of justiceseeking-love.

Sidewalk's “Toronto Tomorrow” plan After being granted the bid to Waterfront Toronto’s RFP,23 Sidewalk Labs underwent two years of public consultation, research, and planning. In June of 2019, Sidewalk Labs completed and presented its Master Innovation and Development Plan (MIDP) entitled Toronto Tomorrow: A New Approach for Inclusive Growth, which was a 1,524-page document detailing the complex vision. Before Waterfront Toronto came to any final decisions regarding what they were open to exploring from the MIDP, Sidewalk Labs withdrew from the Quayside project in May 2020 as a result of global financial uncertainty caused by COVID-19.While the MIDP is now defunct, it remains an important artifact for cities considering P3s for SU.Within their proposal, we can glean insights into the intentions and ideological underpinnings of Sidewalk Labs, who will almost certainly pursue other urban contexts for partnerships in the future. What is most immediately striking about the MIDP is that, while Waterfront Toronto issued a call for proposals to develop a 12-acre parcel of land, Sidewalk Labs MIDP was for an additional 153-acre allotment, wherein an “IDEA District” (an acronym for “innovative design and economic acceleration”) would also be built. Included within the MIDP were: a promise to create thousands of affordable housing units, plans for a timber manufacturing plant, and a new transportation system linking this section of the city by light-rail transit (which would have required un-budgeted municipal and provincial funding to build). For these smart features to work effectively, Sidewalk claimed that specialized regulators and governance bodies would need to be developed to ensure environmental compliance, the meeting of performance goals, and the optimal integration into the interconnected service provision structures of the neighborhood. These regulator entities would have required exemptions from municipal and provincial regulations, the capacity for self-financing with operating costs generated by user fees, 157

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and a clear reliance on Sidewalk Labs for the technical expertise and infrastructure required for fitting into the proposed grid.24 In effect, they advocated for a privatization of what ought to be publicly managed services by inserting themselves “directly into [Toronto’s] public infrastructure and governance.”25 Some of the pro-social promises that Sidewalk made in the MIDP simply did not stand up to analysis and critique.Take, for instance, Sidewalk’s plan to provide 40% below-market housing in light of the housing affordability crisis in this city. As Sidewalk rightly recognized, “no issue is more pressing in Toronto right now than housing affordability.”26 In Toronto, 47% of renters spend more than 30% of their income on housing, and this is projected to continue increasing.27 While Sidewalk committed to building an “affordable, inclusive community with 40% of units at below-market rates,”28 below-market rate is “still unaffordable for most Torontonians.”29 As former Toronto chief planner Jennifer Keesmaat argues, below-market rent in a city with skyrocketing costs of living does not amount to affordable housing. Using market rate as a measure for affordability occludes the real and pressing issue that many people in Toronto simply cannot afford market rent. If this municipal land is to be used to respond to the housing affordability crisis in this city, the conditions for actually existing rental affordability need to be established. Digital privacy advocates have perhaps been the loudest among critics of Sidewalk’s plan. Early on in their planning process, Ann Cavoukian, Ontario’s former privacy commissioner, resigned from her role as an advisor to Sidewalk, citing Sidewalk’s inability to guarantee that personal identifiers would be stripped from collected data. In light of this criticism, Sidewalk proposed that the data collected within Quayside would be held in a “civic data trust” and not be sold to third parties without explicit consent.30 However, the MIDP included no developed plans to guarantee data security within this untested and undeveloped civic data trust model. Due to this lack of clarity, the Canadian Civil Liberties Association (CLAA) launched court action to halt Sidewalk’s plans before Sidewalk pulled out of the partnership entirely.

Resisting Sidewalk by naming ideological underpinnings As advocated for in feminist theo-ethical materialist methods, understanding and critiquing the ideologies behind the logics and social practices of our day is critical for resisting and transforming unjust and dehumanizing conditions.31 Locating the conceptual agendas behind Sidewalk’s plans is crucial for challenging their harmful social practices. Neoliberalization and surveillance capitalism are two of the intersecting ideological foundations behind this iteration of SU. Supporters of Sidewalk’s plan warned that if Toronto did not seize this urban innovation opportunity, the city would fail to thrive in the competitive global (and ever-increasingly urban) marketplace. Influential urban theorist Richard Florida argued that “Toronto needs to compete with the best of the best”; it must catch up with other leading tech cities in its commitment to and support of high-tech innovation, which in turn would introduce significant tax revenue and employment opportunities for this city.32 There is a distinctly entrepreneurial and neoliberal paradigm to this argument that assumes that capital wellbeing is synonymous with building a good city. Of course, cities must be concerned with financial stability. But is competing to be the best or the wealthiest city the most appropriate and responsible goal to have? While smart technologies are proposed as ecological and pro-social solutions to inefficient urban systems, the neoliberal use of these tools must be questioned.We must understand, critique, and resist neoliberalization’s relentless prioritization for the interests of private property owners, multi-national corporations, and financial capital over the needs of diverse urban inhabitants (and especially cultural and racial minorities, as well as all others living in poverty). We must resist having all

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areas of our lives wrapped up into a “grid of economic intelligibility,” as Foucault describes neoliberal governance and rationality.33 In connection with such neoliberalization is the logic at work in the use of data for corporate gain. As social psychologist Shoshana Zuboff argued, Sidewalk’s plan was the latest frontier in “surveillance capitalism,” in which the data from human experience is collected to ameliorate digital services, but also for the purposes of constructing behavioral predictions that can anticipate “what you will do now, soon, and later.”34 Rather than exploiting labor, as is the case with previous forms of capitalism, surveillance capitalism “feeds on every aspect of every human’s experience.”35 Surveillance capitalism takes aspects of what used to be private life and seeks to more fully integrate this information into the marketplace. How and where people move in space, the biological functions of the human body, and interactions among people are all subject to being mined for the valuable data they produce. Effectively, our behavior is what is being commoditized. Zuboff contends that once data is collected, it is analyzed for the purposes of being turned into “prediction products”; by being able to more accurately predict people’s actions, corporations can use these insights (and sell these insights to countless third parties) to optimize their business tactics. Further, Zuboff maintains that data is not merely used to gain understanding for predictive market purposes, but is also employed in order to impose “programmed control.”36 Zuboff suggests that behavior modification through the gathering and deployment of data transpires through subliminal cues used to shape behavior, through “herding” techniques, whereby remote orchestration of tools and systems delimits choices, and through “conditioning” strategies, where digital reinforcements are used over time in order to be able to reliably predict and produce particular behaviors that the company is seeking to elicit.37 Zuboff warns that corporate-led smart urbanization “claims the city as its laboratory and the lives of citizens as its free raw material for data creation, ownership, computation and monetization.”38 She argues that residents’ data would be monitored in order to optimize the smart technologies that Sidewalk hoped to test out in Quayside for the purposes of future sales to other sites. Leaders in ICT echoed these warnings. For instance, Jim Balsillie, the co-founder of Research in Motion (makers of BlackBerry), called Sidewalk's project “a colonizing experiment in surveillance capitalism attempting to bulldoze important urban, civic and political issues.”39 While neoliberal urbanization constructs and organizes social relations as market relations (whereby all social interactions are framed within the grid of economic intelligibility), the ideological arrangements of surveillance capitalism transform the data that human subjects produce into marketable goods.As Zuboff suggests,“we are not surveillance capitalism’s ‘customers,’” but rather the sources of their surplus: “the objects of a technologically advanced and increasingly inescapable raw-material-extraction operation.”40 Whereas neoliberal ideology treats individuals as enterprises unto themselves, surveillance capitalism utilizes and, as Zuboff contends, controls the behavior of individuals for corporate gain. Sidewalk’s plan proposed to privatize city space for profit—a move in line with the spatial practices of neoliberalization—by using surveillance technologies that turn inhabitants into “citizen sensors”41 who use services, and, in so doing, produce lucrative data for corporate extraction. While their project is now defunct, we ought to remain concerned about the vision of urban life proposed in Sidewalk’s plans because this is likely not the last we’ve heard of Sidewalk Labs (as well as other P3s for SU). Cities ought not be treated as laboratories for corporately owned urban infrastructures, and a corporate body ought not own the solutions to affordable housing shortages, effective waste and water management, and ecological sustainability. As Robert Park and David Harvey note, in building the city, we build and re-build ourselves;

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the question of what kind of city we want cannot be divorced from the question of what kind of people we want to be, what kinds of social relations we seek, what relations to nature we cherish, what style of life we desire, what aesthetic values we hold.42 What sorts of systems and relationships will be fostered in data-driven, corporately planned, and predominantly privately funded smart city initiatives? These matters must remain central to considerations of P3s for SU, since it is not merely our neighborhoods that are at stake but our very notions of urban inhabitation and city life.

Feminist theological anthropologies for smart urbanism As urban Christian inhabitants, we must resist actions and ideologies that reduce life to a matter of financial exchange. Echoed throughout the Christian tradition is an insistence on the sacredness of all life, and human life in particular (for better and certainly for worse), given that we are created in the image and likeness of God.43 While there is wide diversity within Christian attitudes toward human life, there is a dominant and reverent awareness that each of us are “infinitely precious to God and made for an eternal destiny.”44 In order to fulfill that destiny, Christians look to Jesus Christ as the paradigmatic human life after which we seek to model our own.That is, we come to understand what living in God’s likeness entails; indeed, what it means to be fully human, through Jesus. Reflecting on the meaning and purpose of human life are concerns that are included within doctrines of theological anthropology. Feminist theologies and theological ethics have offered particular contributions to what it means to be born in the likeness of God, and directed into the right relationship with all of creation by following Jesus. Among these contributions is the proposition for a distinctly relational theological anthropology. For instance, eco-feminist theologian Sallie McFague offers the model of the whole cosmos as “created in the image of God,” and that, together, in all of our “mind-boggling diversity,” we make up “the body of God.”45 All human and other-than-human life transpires within this interconnected and holy web of relation, and the moral imperative for each of us as humans includes cultivating behavior that is respectful of this irrevocable kinship. Relational anthropologies thus frequently result in a requisite ethic of mutuality and/or solidarity.46 As feminist social ethicist Beverly Harrison suggests,“our life is part of a vast cosmic web, and no moral theology that fails to envisage reality in this way will be able to make sense of our lives or our actions today.”47 As creatures constituted by relationship, our birthright and responsibility includes living out our belovedness as creatures made in God’s likeness by building structures, systems, and indeed cities, which respect and protect the wellbeing of all our neighbors (broadly understood). In these ways, we participate in becoming like Christ, “making the body of God healthier and more fulfilled.”48 Against Sidewalk’s regard for human life as a collection of “automated behavioral sensors”49 that can be monitored for corporate gain, relational anthropologies and the ethical imperatives that emerge out of them offer a moral-spiritual vision of human life as co-participating in a sacred whole, and accordingly, that our lives ought not be subject to corporate surveillance and profiteering. In order to cultivate our full humanity in the city, we must resist and transform those conditions that are harmful to ourselves and our neighbors, and continually work to share spaces, resources, and responsibilities equitably so that all have what they need to thrive within this holy web of urban relation. Such a sacred vision for human life underlines the flagrant disrespect that is built into techniques of neoliberal urbanization and surveillance capitalism. Interconnected life in the city, however, is clearly not identical for all inhabitants.The “total sociality of all things”50 does not mean that all threads within the web experience life equally 160

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or alike. Throughout Christian feminist social ethics, there have been correctives to essentializing and universalizing claims about the nature and purpose of human life, including claims around an ontologically relational anthropology. For instance, Christian social ethicist Traci West argues for supplanting conceptual anthropologies organized around abstracted notions such as relationality by insisting that contextual particularity and embodied experience are irreducibly constitutive of human lives in communities.West suggests that what ought to be the focus for understanding personhood are particular institutional practices which concretize and structure diverse human experience.51 From West and others,52 we are encouraged to consider that relationality is always manifested within a specific set of eco-social and bio-political arrangements; any consideration of human life that fails to take account of particular circumstances and intersections obscures how differently human life is experienced, and how divergently we are all positioned within the structures that shape our lives in common. The insistence that context and particularity always matter within a relational theological anthropology surfaces questions we must ask of SU and the ideologies of neoliberal urbanization and surveillance capitalism, such as: who will financially benefit from this arrangement? How will the data of the people who live, work and visit the neighborhood be used, by whom, and toward what ends? Any thorough consideration of the use of smart technologies (privately funded or otherwise) in the built environment also needs to assess the likelihood of collected data being used to unjustly monitor specific groups of people. As Kitchin et al. probe, “what systems and structures of inequality are (re)produced within smart urbanism?”53 How will we each be rendered within neighborhoods built from the internet up? Effective and responsive smart urban management and planning will require due consideration for the ways in which individuals and groups are uniquely (and very likely inequitably) impacted within SU.

Conclusion The cautions I have raised are not necessarily about the inherent dangers in the use of smart technology in cities. Our data can be used toward justice-loving urban ends.As Nancy Odendall recognizes, many civil society organizations are using collected data in order to make the “invisible (the informal, the marginalized) ‘visible’ through documentation practices.”54 Collected data can be used in order to “exert pressure on the state for change,” when it is put in the hands (and devices) of various communities.55 Rather, the issues I am concerned with are primarily political, and they are of theo-ethical import; do we want to cede the power of urban planning and city building to corporations (who view human behavior as a product) without effective and meaningful—that is to say, democratic—inhabitant and governmental engagement? Do we want to let a corporation (with little experience and an ominous track record) build our cities, especially when their anthropologies and business models are based on turning our very lives into commodities? Using language, norms, and methods appropriate to feminist theological ethics, I have sought to draw attention to the material, moral, and spiritual dangers involved in public–private partnerships for SU. Looking at Sidewalk’s plan from this lens has led me to believe that, in order to contribute to justice in the city, we must persistently contest the corporatization of urban space and the commodification of human life that was exemplified in their proposal. A key moralspiritual responsibility for urban inhabitants confronting P3’s for SU is to continuously insist on effective democratic processes as we consider smart tools and practices for justice-loving urban futures. Smart city technologies should not be put in place in order to monitor and profit from inhabitants’ lives; they should be used to construct cities more after our justice-loving hearts’ desires, where the city is built for the wellbeing of all who inhabit it in mind. 161

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While such a vision may seem impossible to realize, utopian urban imaginings help us to give shape to better (i.e. more just) urban futures. As Rob Kitchin posits, utopian urban thinking “creates hope and new desire lines, makes it clear that the future is contingent rather than a teleological inevitability.”56 Feminist theological ethics can participate in such critical future imagining by emboldening us with a vision of a city where justice and love are extended across our urban web of relation; they can also help to equip us with some of the necessary moralspiritual tools (naming sin and evil and insisting on ideological critique, for example) required in order to press for spatial and structural justice in our cities.

Notes 1 Waterfront Toronto is a quasi-public development corporation created by three levels of government— Canada, Ontario, and the City of Toronto.These national, provincial, and municipal governments fund it, while it functions with an unelected and primarily private sector board. 2 Dan Doctoroff, “Reimagining Cities from the Internet Up,” Medium, November 30, 2016, accessed November 1, 2019. https://medium.com/sidewalk-talk/reimagining-cities-from-the-internet-up5923d6be63ba. 3 Martina Fromhold-Eisebith, “Cyber-Physical Systems in Smart Cities—Mastering Technological, Economic, and Social Challenges,” in Smart Cities: Foundations, Principles, and Applications (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley, 2017), p. 3. 4 I use the term “urban inhabitants” rather than citizens of the city in light of the fact that many who live in cities are not provincial or national citizens and in order to reflect the fact that the category of “citizenship” is divisive, while inhabitant allows for shifting and variously positioned belonging. One can inhabit a city illegally and temporarily. 5 Maroš Krivý, “Towards a Critique of Cybernetic Urbanism: The Smart City and the Society of Control,” Planning Theory,Vol. 17 (2018): p. 9. 6 For these and other basepoints in feminist Christian social ethics, see Elizabeth Bounds, Pamela Brubaker, Mary Hobgood. “Feminist Ethics and Public Policy,” Welfare Policy (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock Publishers, 2010), pp. 12–17. 7 Cynthia Moe-Lobeda, Healing a Broken World: Globalization and God (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2002), p. 46. 8 Moe-Lobeda, p. 47. 9 Moe-Lobeda, p. 11. 10 David Harvey, Rebel Cities: From the Right to the City to the Urban Revolution (London, UK:Verso, 2012), p. 18. 11 “About Sidewalk,” Sidewalk Labs.Accessed November 1, 2019. www.sidewalklabs.com. 12 Shane Dingman,“With Toronto,Alphabet Looks to Revolutionize City Building,” The Globe and Mail, October 17, 2017. Accessed November 1, 2019. www.theglobeandmail.com/report-on-business/ with-toronto-alphabet-looks-to-revolutionize-city-building/article36634779/. 13 Dingman,“With Toronto Alphabet Looks to Revolutionize City Building,” The Globe and Mail. 14 “Don’t be evil” was removed from Google’s code of conduct in April 2018, Kate Conger, “Google Removes ‘Don’t Be Evil’ Clause from Its Code of Conduct,” Gizmodo, May 18, 2018. Accessed November 1,2019.https://gizmodo.com/google-removes-nearly-all-mentions-of-dont-be-evil-from1826153393. 15 Claire Stapleton, Tanuja Gupta, Meredith Whittaker, Celie O’Neil-Hart, Stephanie Parker, Erica Anderson, and Amr Gaber,“We’re the Organizers of the Google Walkout. Here Are Our Demands,” The Cut, November 1, 2018. Accessed November 1, 2019. www.thecut.com/2018/11/google-walkoutorganizers-explain-demands.html. 16 Severance packages for those accused include: $90 million to Andy Rubin, the creator of Android mobile phone software, and $35 million to Amit Singhal, former search executive. 17 Nitasha Tiku,“Most of the Google Walkout Organizers Have Left the Company,” Wired, July 16, 2019. Accessed November 1, 2019. www.wired.com/story/most-google-walkout-organizers-left-company/. 18 Lee Fang,“Google Hedges on Promise to End Controversial Involvement in Military Drone Contract,” The Intercept,March 1,2019.Accessed November 1,2019.https://theintercept.com/2019/03/01/googleproject-maven-contract/.

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A feminist theo-ethic for smart urbanites 19 Ryan Gallagher, “Google Employees Uncover Ongoing Work on Censored China Search,” The Intercept, March 4, 2019.Accessed November 1, 2019. 20 Cynthia Moe-Lobeda, Resisting Structural Evil: Love as Ecological-Economic Vocation (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2013), p. 58. 21 Ivone Gebara, Out of the Depths: Women’s Experience of Suffering and Evil (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2002), p. 2. 22 Gebara, Out of the Depths, p. 2. 23 This initial request for proposals was not a product of public consultation; independent of democratic visioning, Waterfront Toronto’s request reflected the opinions and desires of the unelected individuals who run this body.The issuing of the bid itself reflects anti-democratic processes for city building. 24 John Lorinc, “Sidewalk Toronto Poses a Major Challenge to City Governance,” Azure, September 1, 2019. Accessed November 1, 2019. www.azuremagazine.com/collections/the-many-sides-of-side walk-labs/. 25 Bianca Wylie, “Corporations Should not Be Controlling Our City-Building,” Toronto Life, September 4, 2019. Accessed November 1, 2019. https://torontolife.com/city/corporations-should-not-be-cont rolling-our-city-building/. 26 “Buildings and Housing,” Sidewalk Toronto. Accessed November 1, 2019. www.sidewalktoronto.ca/ innovations/buildings-housing. 27 “2018 Issue Briefing: Affordable Housing—Housing Affordability, Availability and Repair,” The City of Toronto. Accessed November 1, 2019. www.toronto.ca/city-government/council/2018-councilissue-notes/torontos-housing/housing-affordability-availability-repair/. 28 “Buildings and Housing,” Sidewalk Toronto.Accessed November 1, 2019. www.sidewalktoronto.ca. 29 Jennifer Keesmaat, “Sidewalk’s Affordable Housing isn’t Really Affordable,” Toronto Life, September 4, 2019.Accessed November 1, 2019. https://torontolife.com/city/sidewalks-affordable-housing-isntreally-affordable/. 30 “Overview of Realignment of MIDP Threshold Issues,”Waterfront Toronto. Accessed April 18, 2020. https://quaysideto.ca/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/Overview-of-Thresold-Issue-Resolution-Oct29.pdf. 31 See, for instance, Elizabeth Bounds, Coming Together/Coming Apart: Religion, Community and Modernity (New York: Routledge, 1997), pp. 15–23. 32 Richard Florida,“Sidewalk Labs is the Future of Urban Tech,” Toronto Life, September 4, 2019.Accessed November 1, 2019. https://torontolife.com/city/sidewalk-labs-is-the-future-of-urban-tech/. 33 Michel Foucault, The Birth of Biopolitics: Lectures at the College de France, 1978–1979 (London, UK: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), p. 248. 34 Zuboff, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for a Human Future at the New Frontier of Power (London, UK: Profile Books, 2019), p. 8. 35 Zuboff, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism, p. 9. 36 Zuboff,“Toronto is Surveillance Capitalisms’ New Frontier,” Toronto Life, September 4, 2019.Accessed November 1, 2019. https://torontolife.com/city/toronto-is-surveillance-capitalisms-new-frontier/. 37 Zuboff, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism, pp. 293–7. 38 Zuboff,“Toronto is Surveillance Capitalisms’ New Frontier,” Toronto Life. 39 Jim Balsillie, as quoted in “‘Surveillance Capitalism’: Critic Urges Toronto to Abandon Smart City Project,” The Guardian, June 6, 2019.Accessed November 1, 2019. www.theguardian.com/cities/2019/ jun/06/toronto-smart-city-google-project-privacy-concerns. 40 Zuboff, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism, p. 10. 41 Jennifer Gabrys, “Programming Environments: Environmentality and Citizen Sensing in the Smart City,” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space,Vol. 32, No. 1 (January 2014): p. 33. 42 David Harvey,“The Right to the City,” International Journal of Urban and Regional Design,Vol. 27, No. 4 (December 2003): pp. 939–41. 43 Genesis 1:26-27 44 James F. Childress and John Macquarrie, eds, The Westminster Dictionary of Christian Ethics (Philadelphia, PA:Westminster, 1986), p. 353. 45 Sallie McFague, Life Abundant: Rethinking Theology and Economy for a Planet in Peril (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2001), p. 183. 46 See, for instance, Ivone Gebara, Longing for Running Water (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1999), 83-93, and Cynthia Moe-Lobeda, Resisting Structural Evil, pp. 123–26.

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Beverly Harrison,“The Power of Anger in the Work of Love,” Making the Connections, p. 16. McFague, Life Abundant, p. 186. Krivý,“Towards a Critique of Cybernetic Urbanism,” p. 15. Harrison,“The Power of Anger in the Work of Love,” Making the Connections, p. 16. West, Disruptive Christian Ethics, pp. 68–71. See also, for instance,Ada Maria Isasi-Díaz, En La Lucha/In the Struggle: Elaborating a Mujerista Theology (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1993; Revised Ed. 2003). Kitchin et al.,“The Right to the Smart City,” The Right to the Smart City, p. 4. Nancy Odendall,“Appropriating ‘Big Data’: Exploring the Emancipatory Potential of the Data Strategies of Civil Society Organizations in Cape Town, South Africa,” The Right to the Smart City, p. 169. Odendall, p. 169. Kitchin,“Toward a Genuinely Humanizing Smart Urbanism,” The Right to the Smart City, p. 197.

Bibliography Ahmed, Nabeel. “The City Vs. Big Tech: The Battle against Big Tech Has Now Decisively Emerged as a New Front in the Fight for the Right to the City.” Briar Patch. Accessed July 2, 2019. https://briar patchmagazine.com/articles/view/the-city-vs.-big-tech. Aschoff, Nicole M. “Tech Billionaires Think SimCity is Real Life.” Jacobin. Accessed May 22, 2019. www. jacobinmag.com/2019/05/future-cities-tech-giants-alphabet-toronto. BlockSidewalk.“Media.”Accessed November 1, 2019. www.blocksidewalk.ca/media. Bounds, Elizabeth. Coming Together/Coming Apart: Religion, Community and Modernity (New York: Routeledge, 1997). Bounds, Elizabeth M., Pamela Brubaker, and Mary Hobgood, eds, Welfare Policy: Feminist Critiques (Eugene, OR:Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2010). Brenner, Neil and Nik Theodore. Spaces of Neoliberalism: Urban Restructuring in Norht America and Western Europe (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2002). Cardullo, Paul, Cesare Di Feliciantonio, and Rob Kitchin, eds, The Right to the Smart City (Bingley, UK: Emerald Publishing Limited, 2019). Childress, James and John Macquarrie, eds, The Westminster Dictionary of Christian Ethics (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster, 1986). Conger, Kate. “Google Removes ‘Don’t Be Evil’ Clause from Its Code of Conduct.” Gizmodo. Accessed May 18, 2018. https://gizmodo.com/google-removes-nearly-all-mentions-of-dont-be-evil-from1826153393. Dingman, Shane. “With Toronto, Alphabet Looks to Revolutionize City Building.” The Globe and Mail. Accessed October 17, 2017. www.theglobeandmail.com/report-on-business/with-toronto-alphabetlooks-to-revolutionize-city-building/article36634779/. Doctoroff, Dan.“Reimagining Cities from the Internet Up.”Medium.Accessed November 30, 2016. https:// medium.com/sidewalk-talk/reimagining-cities-from-the-internet-up-5923d6be63ba. Fang, Lee. “Google Hedges on Promise to End Controversial Involvement in Military Drone Contract.” Intercept. Accessed March 1, 2019. https://theintercept.com/2019/03/01/google-project-maven-con tract/. Florida, Richard. “Sidewalk Labs Is the Future of Urban Tech.” Toronto Life. Accessed September 4, 2019. https://torontolife.com/city/sidewalk-labs-is-the-future-of-urban-tech/. Foucault, Michel. The Birth of Biopolitics: Lectures at the College de France, 1978–1979 (London, UK: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008). Fromhold-Eisebith, Martina. “Cyber-Physical Systems in Smart Cities—Mastering Technological, Economic, and Social Challenges.” In Smart Cities: Foundations, Principles, and Applications (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley, 2017). Gabrys, Jennifer. “Programming Environments: Environmentality and Citizen Sensing in the Smart City.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 32, No. 1 (2014): pp. 30–48. Gallagher, Ryan. “Google Employees Uncover Ongoing Work on Censored China Search.” Intercept. Accessed March 4, 2019. https://theintercept.com/2019/03/04/google-ongoing-project-dragonfly/. Gebara, Ivone. Longing for Running Water: Ecofeminism and Liberation (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1999). Gebara, Ivone. Out of the Depths:Women’s Experience of Suffering and Evil (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2002).

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A feminist theo-ethic for smart urbanites Harrison, Beverly. Making the Connections: Essays in Feminist Social Ethics., ed., Carol S. Robb (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1985). Harvey, David. Rebel Cities: From the Right to the City to the Urban Revolution (London, UK:Verso, 2012). Harvey, David.“The Right to the City.” International Journal of Urban and Regional Design, 27, No. 4 (2003): pp. 939–41. Isasi-Díaz, Ada Maria. En La Lucha/In the Struggle: Elaborating a Mujerista Theology (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1993). Keesmaat, Jennifer. “Sidewalk’s Affordable Housing Isn’t Really Affordable.” Toronto Life. Accessed September 4, 2019. https://torontolife.com/city/sidewalks-affordable-housing-isnt-really-affordable/. Krivý, Maroš.“Towards a Critique of Cybernetic Urbanism:The Smart City and the Society of Control.” Planning Theory, 17 (2018): pp. 8–30. Lefebvre, Henri.“The Right to the City.” In Writings on Cities, eds, Eleonore Kofman and Elizabeth Lebas (Cambridge, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 1996). Lorinc, John.“Sidewalk Toronto Poses a Major Challenge to City Governance.” Azure. Accessed September 1, 2019. www.azuremagazine.com/collections/the-many-sides-of-sidewalk-labs/. McFague, Sallie. Life Abundant: Rethinking Theology and Economy for a Planet in Peril (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2001). Moe-Lobeda, Cynthia. Healing a Broken World: Globalization and God (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2002). Moe-Lobeda, Cynthia. Resisting Structural Evil: Love as Ecological-Economic Vocation (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2013). Sidewalk Labs.“About Sidewalk.”Accessed November 1, 2019. www.sidewalklabs.com. Sidewalk Toronto. “Buildings and Housing.” Accessed November 1, 2019. www.sidewalktoronto.ca/ innovations/buildings-housing. Stapleton, Claire,Tanuja Gupta, Meredith Whittaker, Celie O’Neil-Hart, Stephanie Parker, Erica Anderson, and Amr Gaber. “We’re the Organizers of the Google Walkout. Here Are Our Demands.” The Cut. Accessed November 1, 2018. www.thecut.com/2018/11/google-walkout-organizers-explain-dem ands.html The City of Toronto. “2018 Issue Briefing: Affordable Housing—Housing Affordability, Availability and Repair.” Accessed November 1, 2019. www.toronto.ca/city-government/council/2018-council-issuenotes/housing-affordability-availability-repair/. The City of Toronto. “Poverty Reduction.” Accessed November 1, 2019. www.toronto.ca/city-govern ment/council/2018-council-issue-notes/torontos-equity/poverty-reduction/. Tiku, Nitasha.“Most of the Google Walkout Organizers Have Left the Company.” Wired.Accessed July 16, 2019. www.wired.com/story/most-google-walkout-organizers-left-company/. Warren, May and Emily Mathieu.“Sidewalk Labs Is Pledging to Protect ‘Urban Data.’ Critics Question If Their ‘Untested’ Plan Is Worth the Risk.” Toronto Star.Accessed June 24, 2019. www.thestar.com/news/ gta/2019/06/24/sidewalk-labs-is-pledging-to-protect-urban-data-critics-question-if-their-untestedplan-is-worth-the-risk.html?li_source=LI&li_medium=star_web_ymbii. WaterfrontToronto.“Overview of Realignment of MIDPThreshold Issues.”AccessedApril 20,2020.https:// quaysideto.ca/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/Overview-of-Thresold-Issue-Resolution-Oct29.pdf. West, Traci. Disruptive Christian Ethics:When Racism and Women’s Lives Matter (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006). Wylie, Bianca. “Corporations Should Not Be Controlling Our City-Building.” Toronto Life. Accessed September 4, 2019. https://torontolife.com/city/corporations-should-not-be-controlling-our-citybuilding/. Wylie, Bianca. “Sidewalk Toronto—‘Sold Out’ Public Meetings and Sidewalk Labs’ Sole Source Contract in Illinois.” Medium. Accessed July 28, 2018. https://medium.com/@biancawylie/sidewalk-torontosold-out-public-meetings-and-sidewalk-labs-sole-source-contract-in-illinois-a4ba34ba7593. Wylie, Bianca and Sean McDonald.“Sidewalk Labs, the Candidate.” Accessed November 1, 2019. https:// biancawylie.com/sidewalk-labs-the-candidate/. Zuboff, Shohanna. The Age of Surveillance Capitalism:The Fight for a Human Future at the New Frontier of Power (London, UK: Profile Books, 2019). Zuboff, Shohanna.“Toronto Is Surveillance Capitalism’s New Frontier.” Toronto Life.Accessed September 4, 2019. https://torontolife.com/city/toronto-is-surveillance-capitalisms-new-frontier/.

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12 (IRISH) NEOLIBERALISM’S RUINS Ghost and vacant properties as signposts of idolatry Kevin Hargaden1

Introduction: Bubble, burst, then repeat For two decades, Ireland enjoyed a remarkable economic boom known as the Celtic Tiger.2 After embracing a series of neoliberal reforms in 1987,3 the previously lagging Irish economy caught up with and overtook many of its European neighbors.That prolonged boom was associated with productivity increases, the rise of female participation in the workforce, and a sustained success in attracting Foreign Direct Investment.4 It was also split into two stages.5 After the turn of the millennium, the statistical returns for the economy remained vibrant, but the underlying fundamentals had shifted. An asset-price bubble had formed around property and prevailing Government policy encouraged its expansion.6 As a result, when the global financial crisis hit in 2008, Ireland was exposed in a particularly acute fashion.The Irish Government believed its banks were solvent and that this crisis would abate.They were wrong.7 All six Irish banks were devastated and the State’s guarantee of banking deposits and bonds committed them to saving these domestic financial institutions. The recession that ensued was calamitous. In 2010, Ireland needed a bail-out from the International Monetary Fund, the European Union, and the European Central Bank.8 A decade of stinging Government austerity devastated social services and more deeply entrenched neoliberal fiscal policies as the default approach of the Irish State.9 In this chapter, we will consider a dreadful irony. A crash created by a massive oversupply in housing has flipped into an economic recovery marked by a homelessness and housing crisis. At the peak of the boom, Ireland was building (per capita) over six times as many houses as England, which was also enduring a property bubble.10 At the trough of the bust, the numbers experiencing homelessness began to rise and have now gone beyond the symbolically significant figure of 10,000.11 In a nation of five million people, which had been dedicated through most of its post-independence history to housing people, these numbers represent a cataclysmic crisis. One prominent commentator has repeatedly suggested that the situation is now worse than at any time since the Great Famine of the 1840s.12 It is ethically significant that Ireland could endure a devastating economic crisis in 2008 and barely a decade later be back in the same loop. This appears to be the case, with house prices and property speculation again driving economic growth.13 But recent Irish economic history is particularly pertinent because this is not just a conversation that involves macro-economists 166

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and real estate agents.The particular set of pro-capital policies pursued by the Irish Government means that this round of the economic boom features the perverse characteristic of profound and deepening economic deprivation, especially around housing. In this essay, we will explore the political inertia that is induced by such neoliberal policies.We will explore the phenomenon of vacancy and ghost estates as a means to understand the depth of the crisis.We will consider how mobile apps and street art are among the most articulate responses available to the people who live in the midst of such ruins.And then we will consider what resources are available from within the Christian theological tradition to offer an ethical analysis with a view to imagining viable alternatives. The argument will be sustained that theological ethics can offer distinctive analyses of urban social problems which are of interest to the wider public, but also that theological ethics offers analyses that must be heeded by churches.

The ruins of the Celtic Tiger At the beginning of the recession, the phenomenon of “ghost estates” became symptomatic of the economic and social devastation. Defined “as a development of ten or more houses in which 50% of the properties are either vacant or under construction,”14 ghost estates could be found in every county in the country, often on the edges of provincial towns or in locations far removed from centers of employment or transport links. In a Government survey in 2010, 777 such estates were located and the phenomenon was calculated to implicate 121,248 housing units.15 To put this into context, the 2016 Census reports a total number of housing units as 2,003,645.16 The irrational exuberance for property investment left Ireland with this vast estate of unfinished or unoccupiable homes. At a time of extreme budgetary austerity, Government revenues were expended on the demolition of many of these speculative and ill-advised developments.17 The ghost estates were visually arresting symbols of the irrationality of an asset-price bubble. But the problem of finished-but-unoccupied homes was even greater than the unfinished developments. The scale of vacancy differed from region to region. In the rural county of Leitrim, there was an oversupply of 400% beyond estimated annual demand,18 but there was nowhere in Ireland where vacancy was not an issue. Estimates in 2009 set vacancy levels across the nation at 345,116 units.19 Failed investments left their mark across the island, not just in cities and provincial towns, but also in out-of-the-way villages. The 2008 crash that generated the ghost estates was inescapably tied to neoliberal policies which incentivized property speculation to a remarkable extent, rendering projects that would typically not be viable as positively attractive.20 The problem of vacancy, especially urban vacancy, is similarly iconic for the period of austerity and recovery. One of the major responses to the crash was the establishment of a “toxic bank,” the National Assets Management Agency (NAMA), which processed the bad loans extended by Irish banks.21 NAMA served as an intermediary between the failed banks, the stranded property speculators, and international finance. The Irish property market, especially in Dublin, has thus been transformed in recent years by the arrival of major investment vehicles that have bought properties in bulk, almost as commodities. With property prices buoyant and access to substantial cashflows,22 these funds have distorted the market at the most important point—where people access homes.The vacancy rates, which co-exist with spiraling homelessness, are directly tied to the financialized urban development model pursued by the Irish State and Local Government.23 The contradiction on display in Dublin’s capitalism cannot be evaded. In the aftermath of the burst asset-price bubble, the high level of debt-distressed properties made the local property market an attractive prospect for international investment funds, even more so after the 167

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foundation of NAMA and the enactment of various pro-capital polices. As Cian O’Callaghan has explained, the influx of international capital, in combination with a lack of new supply of houses and mortgage credit, and a 90% collapse in social housing funding as part of a series of severe national austerity budgets from 2008 to 2013, has created a new housing and homelessness crisis in urban areas.24 Ghost estates and vacant lots could easily function as visual reminders of the irrationality of the late Celtic Tiger era; they are sites where “investment capital has melted into air before value can be extracted.”25 They are of deep ethical significance because they are not functioning in this fashion. The bubble appears to be inflating again, this time fueled by this international investment as against small-scale speculation,26 and rental prices have climbed, by some measurements, to become the third highest in Europe.27 Thus, in a period of healthy national economic statistics, when signs of affluence can be found all over the cities and towns of Ireland, there is an escalating, simultaneous problem with homelessness.The ghost estates and vacant properties represent economic challenges, but their true significance is in how they stand scandalously in a society where the need for housing is urgently felt.

The social cost hidden in the ruins While the Irish economy is growing again, recovery from a decade of austerity does not follow immediately.The most pressing problem facing Irish society as a result of the Great Recession is the issue of rampant homelessness. It has normalized above 10,000, almost 4,000 of which are children.28 Those left in emergency accommodation are just the most severe victims of a system that is thoroughly dysfunctional.The number of households waiting for public housing sits at over 70,000, which conservatively means more than 200,000 people.When incomparably less wealthy, the Irish State built 8,500 homes in 1975, 6,900 homes in 1985, and just 75 in 2015.The immediate need is met through a subsidy to the private rental sector which amounts to more than €2,000,000 a day. House-price inflation over the last 5 years far outstrips wage inflation, meaning fewer and fewer are able to buy, while rents have risen between 6.8% and 13.9% each year since 2016.29 There are further complications as homelessness services overlap with other State services to marginalized communities. As many as 800 refugees who have been granted leave to stay in Ireland remain in the carceral “Direct Provision” system because they cannot find homes to move into. Such reverberations are felt throughout society.When we factor in numbers that by their nature cannot be statistically compiled—such as those who are couch-surfing, or living involuntarily as adults with their parents—the numbers affected by this housing crisis might easily exceed 500,000. It must be remembered that this crisis occurs within an economy that is the best performing in Europe, and where vacant properties are acknowledged to be far above the level found in neighboring nations; the level of unoccupied conventional dwellings in the UK has been recorded at 3.9% against Ireland’s rate of 17.3%.30 While the 2016 Census did record some reduction in vacancy,31 the Government’s own Housing Department is unable to fix a solid figure.32 One does not have to search for long in central Dublin to find abandoned lots, boardedup houses, and office complexes in ruin. The tension created between a once-again-booming economy, such widespread property dereliction, and the housing crisis can be largely explained on an economic level by considering the role of speculation, but it leaves a political and ethical dilemma that appears intractable. How can a system that generates such absurdities be allowed to continue? (see Figure 12.1). 168

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Figure 12.1 Real GDP growth (EU: 2018). Source: Eurostat

While there have been some notable attempts at direct action33 and continuous agitation from social activists,34 no cohesive and effective strategy of protest has arisen to respond to this crisis. Such a thorough reorientation of urban space toward the need of capital relies upon the thorough control of the political conversation by neoliberal policies.The commitment to neoliberal orthodoxy is so complete that any critique of Government policy is rebuffed as “ideological,” as if a political position could be founded on pure data (should such a position emerge, it would, of course, be a definitive expression of ideology!).35

Frustrated political responses—graffiti and coding as solutions It has been suggested that the political lacuna surrounding the crisis of homelessness can be understood as an example of a “post-politics” society, albeit one which requires significant nuance to account for the “political struggles that occur in the void.”36 One such expression of political struggle can be found in an initiative from two academics at University College Dublin. Recognizing the gaps in data around vacancy and responding to the public unrest about the issue, Philip Crowe and Aoife Corcoran developed an app called “Space Engagers” to serve as a sort of tech-enabled citizen response to the problem. It seeks “diagnosis before treatment”37 by encouraging citizens to track and log vacancies in their neighborhoods using their smartphones. While there are obvious merits—both political and personal—in encouraging people to pay closer attention to their city, Space Engagers remains a combination of volunteer labor and proprietary software offered as a solution to a pressing public crisis. It is simultaneously a protest against the effects of neoliberal policies, and, in its combination of civic effort, private enterprise, and public policy, a replicator of neoliberal logic. Irish rates of homelessness have expanded by over 250% since 2014.Yet an app—almost a sacred vessel for neoliberal technocracy—is one of the few tangible responses Irish democracy has managed to develop to combat this radical transformation of the city and devastating trauma for those left without a home (see Figure 12.2). This crisis has not gone unnoticed by Irish artists. One of the most prominent writers to emerge in the last decade, Donal Ryan, has repeatedly set his novels and short stories against 169

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Figure 12.2 Growth in homelessness in Ireland, 2014–2019. Source: Department of Housing, Planning and Local Government

the backdrop of ghost estates.38 The photographer Valérie Anex has published a collection categorizing the homes that were never occupied.39 Yet throughout the period of austerity and into this new era of re-boom, street art has been one of the tangible expressions of popular dissent against the neoliberal capture of Dublin and its buildings for the sake of capital. Street art, defined as those creations where the use of the street is “internal to its significance, that is, it must contribute essentially to its meaning”40 is an important avenue for considering the public reaction to vacancy because it primarily uses the very problem itself—unused buildings—as its canvas.A rich community of street-artists has emerged who have repurposed the decaying walls and boarded up windows of vacant properties for artistic endeavor. Names like Maser, Solus, and Subset have, through their initiatives, become well known in Irish art circles.The ever-changing nature of street art is catalogued via Instagram or through websites like DublinWalls.com (which offers four walking routes to track the spots most likely to feature fresh murals). Notable examples of protest street art which explore the scandal of vacancy and dereliction include the work that was erected in 2012 around the hoardings on the abandoned offices of the catastrophically failed bank,Anglo-Irish. Parodying the logo of the defunct bank, the hoardings bore the lines of W.B.Yeats’ poem, September 1913.41 The poem, inspired by the failure of Dublin city to build a gallery suitable to house the collection of Huge Lane, was an attempt to critique the narrow, miserly parochialism of some aspects of Irish culture. Repurposed by the artists, Yeats’ poem found a profound resonance that went beyond questioning the legacy of the Celtic Tiger, as it challenged Irish people to evaluate the century of independence. Was it “For this that all that blood was shed?” (see Figure 12.3). Pieces of guerilla protest art cropped up around the city’s vacant sites throughout the period of austerity and during the boom that followed.While the Government rhetoric seeks to normalize the homelessness crisis, street art continues to be one of the most vivid expressions of popular discontent with the neoliberal reorientation of the city. The lack of sustained or effective political opposition to the neoliberal policy arrangements that have generated mass homelessness at the same time as mass vacancy, in the context of an economic boom, should not be read as a political passivity among Irish people. Participation in digital projects 170

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Figure 12.3 Street art erected outside the unfinished headquarters of the failed bank,Anglo-Irish. Source: Eoin O’Mahony

like Space Engagers and the widespread appreciation of protesting street art testifies—along with the sustained charitable action and social activism which is political without being electoral—to the political discontent with the increased financialization of Irish property and its tragic human costs.These trajectories indicate that there is strongly held yet inchoate political opposition to the present urban order.Turning to voices that are not typically part of mainstream political discourse may be one approach that might articulate such opposition. Seeking such fresh alternative perspectives, we turn now to consider theological responses to urban crises.

How theological reflection might function amid ruins Historically, Christianity emerged as an urban religion.42 There is evidence that urbanity was a part of early Christian identity.The etymological source of “pagan” is “peasant,” and it was used by early Christian writers to allude to the tendency of those from the countryside to follow a different path than the strange way associated with Jesus of Nazareth.43 Famously, the Victorianera preacher Henry Drummond could declare that “Christianity is the religion of cities … Its sphere is the street, the market-place, the working-life of the world.”44 Given this historical context, we would expect that Christians would have developed approaches to theologically consider questions related to life in cities. In recent decades, we could consider those responses through a standard frame which applies to many questions of Christian political theology. Christian responses to social issues 171

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can regularly be categorized in terms of retreat/revolution, revitalization/rejuvenation, and resilience/reformation.These responses are informed by prior theological commitments which shape both the diagnosis of the problem and the possible range of responses.When it comes to theological reflection on the city, it is useful to think about responses within this framework. It is important to remember that this taxonomy is schematic. Only on paper can we separate these responses. In reality, they are overlapping and complementary, even cross-pollinating approaches. It is useful to consider how the large trunk of Christian social theory inspires different branches, but we should not neglect the basic fact that even if different approaches move in different directions, they are not in competition.

Revolution or retreat The theological figure who overshadows Christian engagements with the city that promote a retreat or the initiation of an entirely alternative arrangement is the French sociologist, Jacques Ellul. Ellul fought in the French Resistance and, after the war, became a prominent leader of the minority Reformed church, a political leader in Bordeaux, and a polymathic professor.45 In The Meaning of the City, he offers an argument which builds on and assumes much of his work about technique in the modern age, insisting that the city was, from the day of its creation, incapable, because of its motives behind its construction, of any other destiny than that of killing the country, where God put man to enable him to live his life as best he could.46 It is worthwhile considering how theological argument can unfold that seems so counter to the historical development of its own faith development.When tasked with considering the city, Ellul does not turn first to archaeologists or anthropologists. His argument is grounded in the account from the bible. He builds a compelling case that the biblical narrative itself stands skeptically toward the city. Eden was a garden. Cain, the first murderer, takes refuge in the Land of Nod, where he establishes a city he names after his own son. Still only a few pages into Genesis, we find Nimrod, the fearsome warrior, a vicious character who also establishes cities, including Babel, where humanity plans to erect a monument to their collective excellence so grand that it will allow them to rise to the level of deity.When read in this fashion, Ellul is able to build a compelling case that the city is an offense exactly because it is intended as a defense against the divine call. Ellul’s bracing rhetoric might seem overwrought to many readers. It is easy to misunderstand an author who speaks so strongly that they can declare the city “cannot function except as a parasite.”47 Yet his position is one that has achieved (perhaps indirectly) significant influence.The agrarian position, best encapsulated in Wendell Berry, is not as dismissive of the city as Ellul, but it shares the suspicion that the city is doomed to always spiral out of control.48 There are examples of communities that have been established that seek the sort of balanced, local, community-focused development envisioned by Berry. One prominent example is the Bruderhof, an Anabaptist movement, originally founded in 1920, which seek to share goods in common and live in a way that escapes the “awful mixture” of human toil and inclination toward greed.49 While typically found in rural settings, the Bruderhof have urban communities as well, demonstrating that the ambition to craft an alternative to the city is not always a retreat.50 In the context of Dublin’s present crisis, one can imagine a coherent response in the revolution or retreat mode to consist of a withdrawal to the urban periphery and the establishment of a sort of model community that could serve as an example of a more balanced way of life founded on a less irrational use of resources than is found in the globalized, neoliberal city. 172

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Revitalization or rejuvenation A very clearly overlapping response considers the problems found in contemporary cities and responds with a project of direct renewal. One of the strongest expressions of this approach is found in an American movement, the Christian Community Development Association.51 Building on the work of John M. Perkins, the Christian Community Development approach is a response to urban poverty which—in a fashion that would cheer Jacques Ellul—rejects top-down technocratic solutions and instead insists that the resources to renew urban communities can be found within the communities themselves. Operating out of eight principles—redistribution, relocation, reconciliation, leadership development, empowerment, holistic approach, church-based, and listening to the community—the goal of Christian Community Development is to directly address the problems faced in a city on the level where the issues are felt, with the people who suffer them.52 Perkins was raised in a sharecropping family. His response to modern urban poverty is informed by this experience. It is explicit about the racial nature of urban poverty53 and clear that justice, not charity, is the Christian framework for urban engagement.54 Speaking very broadly, the revolution model imagines that the Christian path involves establishing community on ground other than the city.The rejuvenation approach intends to establish community directly within the contested, complicated urban space. Both are unapologetically ecclesial in their social vision. A central component of Perkins’ vision entails “people voluntarily and decisively relocating ourselves and our families for worship and for living within the poor community itself.”55 This response demands a range of critical analyses and may raise suspicions about paternalism and proselytism. Such considerations should not be dismissed, but, in principle, the rejuvenation approach is self-consciously a vision for a faith community which pursues common goods. When confronted with a problem as significant as the housing and homelessness crisis in Ireland, at a time of widespread vacancy, this response would issue a clear call to action: move in, take up the space, and work for renewal.

Resilience or reformation The third position we can imagine for Christian theological reflection on the city seeks to engage the urban space as a good, if flawed, phenomenon. There is a rich tradition within Christianity of working to preserve, maintain, and encourage the positive aspects of city life.The work of Noah Toly, an academic working at Wheaton College, is an apt guide to this approach, which takes the city as a given and intends to work within its own internal structures—in terms of political governance, physical infrastructure, or social culture—to address crises. This perspective could be placed as a mirror to the revolution or retreat position, seeing faithfulness as thoroughly possible within the city.Yet it would be a mistake to starkly divide these positions in practice. Toly himself has addressed annual conferences of the Christian Community Development Association and has argued for the continued relevance of Ellul’s “apocalyptic” warning against “the triumph of the city.”56 The most distinctive difference in this approach is a willingness to engage directly in questions of public policy and State governance.The retreat model holds little hope for such interventions (although the reader must remember that, even as Ellul polemically railed against the city, he was also an elected city official).The revitalization model does not discount the value of well-developed policy but engages directly at a level closer to the ground. In the work of Toly, we find an engagement at the civic and political level because the crises facing the city—especially around climate breakdown—demand policy interventions. How can issues like brownfield 173

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sites or air pollution, which originate in a large part because of the flows of capital made possible by neoliberalism, be addressed except at the political level?57 As large cities increasingly become the centralized repositories of a nation’s wealth and cultural activity, the problem of “disembeddedness”—most notably around the city of London in Brexit—has played a major role in destabilized political conversations.58 The democratic deficit felt by those who do not reside in the urban centers of influence, whether real or imagined, demands a political response. Toly argues that “whether we choose to locate ourselves in Antarctica or rural Africa, we live in an urban world.”59 Sometime in the last decade or so, the statistics shifted so that the majority of people are now, for the first time in human history, urban. This trajectory is only likely to continue through this century. Other approaches are to be welcomed, but it is clear from engagement with Toly’s work that a policy response is necessary. A more positive biblical account of the city can be developed to undergird Toly’s attention to the potential of the city’s own structures to initiate change.The exiled Israelites were exhorted to work for the peace of the city in which they found themselves (Jeremiah 29:7) and the climax of the biblical narrative finds humanity gathered, not in a rural idyll, but in a city (Revelation 21–22). In the context of the question of Dublin’s paradoxical homelessness crisis in a time of boom,Toly’s work reminds us that poverty is not a natural disaster that strikes at random.The situation where we find almost 4,000 children experiencing homelessness in a prosperous nation is produced by policy. Political analysis and action are an inescapable response. In Ellul, Perkins, and Toly, we have three representative examples of how the Christian tradition engages with the challenge of the city.There are threads which run through each approach, demonstrating how they are all drawing from the same source and that they share the common goal. Ellul’s concern about the temptation to imagined self-sufficiency spotlights a question about the appropriate location for Christian community. Should the faithful be a separate, distinct rolemodel community, or should they be immersed in the complexity of the contemporary city exactly where it fails, as Perkins suggests? This theologically significant question of location and place is joined in the debate about the appropriate scale of engagement. Without contradicting Perkins,Toly’s work clearly articulates the need for a Christian engagement with the city on the level of policy and governance.While the example of a contrast community like the Bruderhof can be politically potent, and the long-term effects of embedded communities like the CCDA initiatives can be socially transformative, if the problems are generated at the level of nation states and trans-national capitalism, then theological reflection must engage at a similar level. In the particular case of Dublin, where the deleterious consequences of neoliberal policy can be so clearly displayed, a fourth response can be envisioned. Like Perkins, it is hopeful for the role of Christian communities to make a positive impact on the ground. Like Toly, it understands that political analysis and questions of governance and policy cannot be avoided. But, informed by the resources of historical theology, it calls for an engagement with the city that echoes and amplifies Ellul’s concern for the city as a spiritual reality. It is toward this theological account of the contemporary neoliberal city that we now turn.

Ruins: What idolatry leaves behind When we specifically consider the problems facing Dublin, and the crisis in housing and homelessness unfolding in Ireland in the midst of a fresh period of sustained economic growth, our theological reflection needs to deal specifically with the issue of ruins. In the absence of any political platform that constructively imagines an alternative future, people have resorted to apps

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like Space Engagers and street art to express their discontent with a situation where capital is more at home in the nation’s capital than people. The ruins found around Dublin are not the consequence of a natural disaster. A great hurricane did not lift the roofs away. A nightmarish tsunami did not crash ashore from the Irish Sea.The ruins proliferate because of decisions that have been made that prioritize the flow of international investment above the housing of children.When we remember this political fact, we start to see a way to account theologically for the particular problem of Dublin’s housing crisis. When we think about the vacancy crisis in terms of ruins, we find an intersection point with one of the great theological/philosophical thinkers of the twentieth century. Ruins played an influential role throughout the writing of Walter Benjamin. He saw the ruin as a problem for modern capitalism because each collapsing building is a promise left unfulfilled by capitalism’s myth of progress. In perhaps his most famous paragraph, we find him musing on a painting by Paul Klee entitled Angelus Novus. For Benjamin, the angel is the messenger of history, who longs to make sense of the turmoil caused by humanity’s misadventures, but he is caught in a storm which “irresistibly propels him into the future to which his back is turned, while the pile of debris before him grows skyward.This storm is what we call progress.”60 History gazes upon the ruins—“wreckage upon wreckage”61—and they stack up as question marks that call into question whether capitalism will ever deliver on the utopia it promises. Neoliberal policy establishes itself as attractive because of how it pledges the ordered investment of resources, an alternative to the inevitable waste associated with social democracy or other alternatives. But this linear, ordered, rational offering is never delivered. Reality is much more disruptive, even haphazard. The vacant building or the ghost estate is a grand question mark calling the easy accounts of progress to justify themselves.Their obsolescence is an offense to the public doctrines of neoliberalism, but are anticipated products of its internal logic. The shortest route to profit is a straight line. The crumbled ruins of the contemporary neoliberal city are testimonies to how reality cannot compress space into pre-packaged, easily commodified units of consumption.When what we are discussing is the potential of housing in an age of rampant homelessness, the wreckage left behind is more than unsightly. It is a hint that a capitalism, which so heedlessly sheds “non-performing” assets, cannot be relied upon to not discard “under-performing” people.The ruin is an ambiguity that neoliberalism cannot easily tolerate.

The theological problem hidden beneath the ruins That Dublin city meets this description can be ascertained from its own declarations.The City development plan for 2016–2022 describes vacancy as simultaneously “a great challenge and opportunity” because it is “potentially a great international competitive advantage.”62 A surplus of ruins is not an opportunity to build houses for those without homes. It is a comparative leg-up in attracting international finance.The city is no longer a settlement for humans. It has become a machine for storing capital. While Irish housing policy has straightforwardly created the potential for profit through property, a deeper examination of the affectional pull of neoliberalism is required. It may be better to be rich than poor (although Jesus of Nazareth appears in various places to dispute this), but a commitment to profit when the cost entails such widespread immiseration must be accounted for.What is at play that makes the money gained from property speculation so attractive that it can be pursued even as thousands are immiserated? A housing system that exists to see capital flourish first and foremost, and only then to offer people homes, is a system that is described by

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a theological term—greed. Greed, we are told in the Greek Christian scriptures (Colossians 3:5), is a form of idolatry.Traditionally in Christian theology, an idol is not to be understood simply as a statue like a golden calf. It is that phenomenon by which any created thing is raised to the level rightly reserved for the Creator as the subject of worship. And here we come to a fourth way to theologically consider the problems of a contemporary city. We have considered revolution and retreat, revitalization and rejuvenation, resilience and reformation by looking at the writings of modern thinkers. Now, by looking at older ideas in theology to discover fresh relevance, we might talk of remembering/redirection. The older voices of the Christian tradition can allow us to approach the problem from a slant perspective, reconfiguring how the questions are framed and opening new possible responses. If we look to one representative figure in the Christian tradition—Martin Luther—we find that he repeatedly turned to the topic of greed as a proxy for idolatry. If prompted to explain why those profiting from an economic boom that singularly fails to meet basic needs, Luther would insist that the powerful status quo must be in the grip of idolatry. This might easily be dismissed as irrelevant religious moralizing, but Luther’s understanding of idolatry is sharply political and it has a potent resonance for these questions. In his Larger Catechism, he wonders what it means to have a God. It means having “that from which we are to expect all good and to which we are to take refuge in all distress.”63 Idolatry, in this light, is taking ultimate refuge in that which cannot protect us. An idol, in Luther’s conception, will always be a good thing, exaggerated out of proportion. The commitment to wealth accrued from property speculation is idolatrous on these terms.The reason why those in control of the city will not change course is not simple neoliberal ideology. It is a deep, soul-level investment in the belief that through the accumulation of wealth, security will be assured. Only a psychological motivation so profound can explain a commitment to a policy arrangement so devastating. In his biblical commentaries, Luther argues that the businessperson runs the risk of imagining that their toil is the sole source of their reward and that greed will necessarily follow.This is idolatrous because it imagines human self-sufficiency—the “self-made man” is a significant trope in neoliberal rhetoric—is operating where God’s provision is primary.64 Any political position built on the idea that the successful deserve what they have because they have earned it will clash irrevocably with the Reformation emphasis on humanity’s dependence on the address and sustenance of God. Chief among the commandments of neoliberalism is that whatever you lack must be made up by your toil, creativity, or entrepreneurial opportunism.As if in response to the political vision of our day, addressing idolatry in his Larger Catechism, Luther imagines God speaking:“whatever you lack of good things, expect it of Me … I, yes, I, will give you enough and help you out of every need; only let not your heart cleave to or rest in any other.”65 Profit is the motive that leaves so many houses empty when Dublin is home to thousands of families without homes.That some defensible concept of self-interest can slide into outright greed is a distinction that the priests of neoliberalism deny. Luther reminds the priests of Christianity that they have something they must say in such a context. Resisting idolatry is the first commandment. Even in his private correspondence, Luther insists that greed is idolatrous in a fashion that allows us to theologically tackle neoliberalism and ethically examine—with real political potency—the travesty of homelessness and vacancy in a period of economic boom. In a letter to Johann Cellarius he explicitly describes greed and a preference to allocate resources for the sake of profit above need (in this specific instance the provision of the local church, which would have been a primary form of welfare for those in need) as a form of idolatry.66 Should a city act so as to seek to shelter capital above people, under Luther’s lights, capital in that situation is best described in the terms Jesus offered: Mammon is the idol being worshipped when neoliberal policies are protected at the expense of vulnerable humans. 176

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How do you respond to idol worship? In his work, The Emotional Logic of Capitalism, the social theorist, Martijn Konings, has explored how neoliberalism secures the allegiance of electorates who conceivably would be better served by embracing political programs with a greater emphasis on social solidarity. He too finds this pseudoreligious urge at the heart of neoliberalism. Money, in his terms, is an icon. It is both a simple means of exchange and also a vastly complex array of relationships which make the world go round. For Konings, capitalism—and its contemporary expression in neoliberalism—is a robust faith.The bubble always bursts, but when it does, the ensuing crisis of faith is channeled into a direction which reinstates the capitalist order. He describes this as a “paradoxical combination of iconoclasm and iconophilia.”67 By this, he means that in the moment when the bottom falls out of the inflated markets, the rage of the people who are set to suffer the most is placated with a story about how what is needed is a refinement of the capitalist order. In Ireland, the ruling elites justified austerity by claiming “we all partied”68 and the ghost estates were the thread with which they secured that narrative. “These are signposts of unfortunate excess,” they seemed to say.“Next time,” they counseled,“we’ll do it differently.” The “next time” has arrived, and it is clear that the only difference is an intensification of the brutal logic of neoliberal inequality. Fortunes are again being made in property speculation, but this time with the added insult of mass homelessness. Konings recognizes there is no way to cleanly separate ourselves from the things we love. One traditional response to idolatry has been iconoclasm—where the symbols of idol worship are destroyed.The problem with the idolatry of wealth is not just that we cannot destroy money without bringing our world to a halt. It is that money is not something that functions external to ourselves. We make it with our affections. Iconoclasm in this context would be a futile form of repression, unless there was first some therapy of the soul that redirected our affections to other goods—in Lutheran terms, that sought security from other sources. Luther presents greed as a form of idolatry, a misdirected worship.The response to idolatry is not, therefore, outright war against the symbol of the idol. In the definitive story of idolatry in the Hebrew scriptures, that was the response made by Moses (Exodus 32, especially verses 27–29), and no one familiar with the story after Exodus can conclude that it resolved the issue. If the ruins of Dublin’s vacant buildings are signposts to neoliberal idolatry, then the Christian response involves exposing how neoliberal capitalism will never deliver the security that we hope from it. In such a context, graffiti takes on a theological significance when it protests the social scandal created by such policies.They offer no security to those in emergency accommodation.The rubble of empty and unused houses in a time when many are without homes is neoliberalism’s own iconoclasm; the attempt to shatter the political commitment to social solidarity which obstructs the path of profit.The theological response, informed by older voices within the Christian tradition, seeks not to launch an app, but to call this an empty religion, a dead-end. Such a response resonates with the criticism of Ellul, it leaves space for the kind of social activism associated by Perkins, and it demands the sort of policy analysis practiced by Toly. But it pushes further still. If neoliberalism encourages idolatry, the church is licensed to be thoroughly prophetic.

Conclusion Neoliberal apologists explain greed away as rational self-interest. Christians have gotten out of the habit of calling greed a sin, but a theological examination reveals it is a particularly grievous form of sin. Luther shows us how greed is a form of pseudo-religious hunger. From the moment of its independence through to the neoliberal turn, a founding commitment of the Irish State 177

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was the provision of suitable housing to all citizens. Neoliberalism’s transformation of that communal affection around housing—where today private ownership is lauded at almost the complete expense of social housing69—can be seen as a philosophical revolution in the Irish social imaginary and a distinctive break from the narrative that has prevailed for more than a century. Walter Benjamin was fascinated by ruins.The straight roofless walls of the palace above the Neckar River in Heidelberg70 are categorically different from the ruins of the bourgeoisie.71 The vacant buildings and ghost estates of Ireland are eternal testimonies only in that such ruins are always going to be a declaration against the hollow promises made by neoliberal capitalism.To daub such crumbling walls with art—whether made up of geometric shapes that interrupt the copy-and-paste architectural aesthetic of the neoliberal office block or through explicit political sloganeering or branding—is a vital and valued response when the best that a citizen can do to protest is to log geolocation data on an app. If it is true that neoliberalism implements the policies of greed, instituting a legal and business culture that is in effect idolatrous, then Christianity must look to its past treasures to open avenues for much more potent political engagement. The neoliberal logic that seeks to prioritize profit at the expense of people must be redirected toward more valuable goods, goods that invariably are discovered in common. The contemporary problems facing cities like Dublin require responses that run the spectrum from retreat through to rejuvenation and reformation, but they must include this robust call for redirection. If ghost estates and vacant properties are signposts to neoliberalism’s idolatry, the church should read them as summons to action.

Notes 1 I am indebted to Keith Adams, Dr Emily Hill, and Dr Declan Kelly for their comments on an earlier version of this argument. 2 O’Toole, Ship of Fools, pp. 12–13. 3 MacSharry and White, The Making of the Celtic Tiger:The Inside Story of Ireland’s Boom Economy, pp. 42–97. 4 Clinch, Convery, and Walsh, After the Celtic Tiger, pp. 24–42. 5 Lewis, Boomerang, p. 91. 6 Whelan,“Ireland’s Economic Crisis:The Good, the Bad and the Ugly,” p. 10. 7 McWilliams, Follow the Money, pp. 36, 44. 8 Mody, EuroTragedy:A Drama in Nine Acts, pp. 232–82. 9 Lynch, Cantillon, and Crean,“Austerity and Recovery in Ireland.” 10 Hargaden, Theological Ethics in a Neoliberal Age, p. 117. 11 Adams and McVerry,“Rebuilding ‘Rebuilding Ireland.’” 12 Fitzgerald, “FactCheck.” 13 Callanan,“Ireland Property Rush Risks Repeat of Crisis.” 14 Kitchin et al.,“A Haunted Landscape: Housing and Ghost Estates in Post-Celtic Tiger Ireland,” p. 30. 15 Kitchin et al.,“Placing Neoliberalism:The Rise and Fall of Ireland’s Celtic Tiger,” p. 1311. 16 Central Statistics Office,“Census of Population 2016—Profile 1 Housing in Ireland.” 17 Janssen-Jansen and Lloyd, “Property Booms and Bubbles. A Demolition Strategy—towards a Tabula Rasa?” 18 Kenna,“New Developments in Irish Housing Rights,” p. 1. 19 Williams, Hughes, and Redmond,“Managing an Unstable Housing Market,” p. 14. 20 Ross, The Bankers, p. 124. 21 Connolly, NAMA-Land. 22 Weston and Donnelly,“Almost Half of Properties Snapped up by Cash Buyers.” 23 O’Callaghan, Di Feliciantonio, and Byrne,“Governing Urban Vacancy in Post-Crash Dublin,” p. 887. 24 O’Callaghan,“Planetary Urbanization in Ruins,” p. 429. 25 Kitchin, O’Callaghan, and Gleeson,“The New Ruins of Ireland? Unfinished Estates in the Post-Celtic Tiger Era,” p. 107. 26 Burke-Kennedy,“Expert Warns of Another Boom and Bust in Irish House Prices.”

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(Irish) neoliberalism’s ruins 27 Hamilton,“Dublin Has Third Highest Residential Rents in Europe.” 28 All of these figures are accurate as of November, 2019. 29 All these figures are drawn from Keith Adams’ and Peter McVerry SJ’s analysis of the Government housing strategy, three years on from its launch.Adams and McVerry,“Rebuilding ‘Rebuilding Ireland.’” 30 Serne-Morin,“Filling Vacancies,” p. 4. 31 Central Statistics Office,“Census of Population 2016—Profile 1 Housing in Ireland.” 32 Department of Housing, Planning and Local Government, “National Vacant Housing Reuse Strategy.” 33 Hearne et al., “The Relational Articulation of Housing Crisis and Activism in Post-Crash Dublin, Ireland,” pp. 162–64. 34 O’Sullivan,“Thousands Attend Dublin Protest over Homeless Crisis.” 35 McGrath,“Criticism of Fine Gael Housing Record Is ‘Ideological’, Says Varadkar.” 36 O’Callaghan, Boyle, and Kitchin,“Post-Politics, Crisis, and Ireland’s ‘Ghost Estates,’” p. 132. 37 Corcoran and Crowe,“Exploring the World through Interactive Mapping.” 38 Ryan, The Spinning Heart. 39 Anex, Ghost Estates. 40 Riggle,“Street Art,” p. 246. 41 Yeats, Early Poems, p. 81. 42 Stark, Cities of God. 43 Orosius, Seven Books of History against the Pagans, p. 32. 44 Drummond, The City Without a Church, p. 9. 45 Ellul, Perspectives on Our Age. 46 Ellul, The Meaning of the City, p. 8. 47 Ellul, p. 151. 48 Berry,“Out of Your Car, Off Your Horse.” 49 Ellul, The Meaning of the City, p. 209. 50 Bruderhof, “Harlem House.” 51 Gordon and Perkins, Making Neighborhoods Whole:A Handbook for Christian Community Development, pp. 16–45. 52 Christian Community Development Association,“CCD Philosophy.” 53 Perkins, Beyond Charity, pp. 22–25. 54 Perkins, p. 28. 55 Perkins, A Quiet Revolution, p. 218. 56 Toly, “The Meaning of the Global City: Jacques Ellul’s Continued Relevance to 21st-Century Urbanism,” p. 238. 57 Toly,“Cities, the Environment, and Global Governance:A Political Ecological Perspective,” pp. 138–41. 58 Toly,“Brexit, Global Cities, and the Future of World Order,” p. 144. 59 Toly,“Cities and the Global Environment,” p. 67. 60 Benjamin, Illuminations, p. 258. 61 Benjamin, p. 257. 62 Dublin City Council,“Dublin City Development Plan, 2016–2022 (Written Statement),” p. 45. 63 Luther,“The Large Catechism,” p. 565. 64 Luther, Martin Luther’s Werke: Kritische Gesamtausgabe, 1899, 15:366. 65 Luther,“The Large Catechism,” p. 581. 66 Luther, Martin Luther’s Werke : Kritische Gesamtausgabe, 1938, Briefwechsel 8 (1537–1539): pp. 610–11. 67 Konings, The Emotional Logic of Capitalism, p. 75. 68 O’Flynn, Monaghan, and Power, “Scapegoating During a Time of Crisis: A Critique of Post-Celtic Tiger Ireland,” p. 926. 69 Burns et al.,“Rebuilding Ireland:A Flawed Philosophy—Analysis of the Action Plan for Housing and Homelessness,” p. 10. 70 Benjamin, Selected Writings:Volume 1 (1913–1926), p. 470. 71 Benjamin, Arcades Project, p. 13.

Bibliography Adams, Keith and Peter McVerry. “Rebuilding ‘Rebuilding Ireland.’” Dublin: Jesuit Centre for Faith and Justice. 2019. https://jcfj.ie/images/Rebuilding_Ireland_Final.pdf.

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Kevin Hargaden Anex,Valérie. Ghost Estates (Geneva: Uqbar, 2013). Benjamin, Walter. Arcades Project (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 1999). ———. Illuminations (New York: Schocken Books, 2007). ———. Selected Writings: Volume 1 (1913–1926). (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996). Berry, Wendell. “Out of Your Car, Off Your Horse.” Atlantic. Accessed February 1991. www.theatlantic. com/magazine/archive/1991/02/out-your-car-your-horse/309159/. Bruderhof. “Harlem House.” Bruderhof. Accessed November 2019. www.bruderhof.com/en/where-weare/united-states/harlem-house. Burke-Kennedy, Eoin. “Expert Warns of Another Boom and Bust in Irish House Prices.” The Irish Times. Accessed June 21, 2018. www.irishtimes.com/business/economy/expert-warns-of-another-boomand-bust-in-irish-house-prices-1.3538768. Burns, Margaret, P.J. Drudy, Rory Hearne, and Peter McVerry, S.J.“Rebuilding Ireland:A Flawed Philosophy: Analysis of the Action Plan for Housing and Homelessness.” Working Notes 80, No. 1 (2017): pp. 3–20. Callanan, Neil. “Ireland Property Rush Risks Repeat of Crisis.” Irish Times. Accessed April 1, 2019. www. irishtimes.com/business/economy/ireland-property-rush-risks-repeat-of-crisis-1.3845318. Central Statistics Office. “Census of Population 2016—Profile 1 Housing in Ireland.” Dublin: CSO. Accessed April 20, 2017. www.cso.ie/en/releasesandpublications/ep/p-cp1hii/cp1hii/. Christian Community Development Association. “CCD Philosophy.” Christian Community Development Association (blog). March 2018. https://ccda.org/about/philosophy/. Clinch, Peter, Frank Convery and Brendan Walsh. After the Celtic Tiger (Dublin: O’Brien Press, 2002). Connolly, Frank. NAMA-Land (Dublin: Gill, 2017). Corcoran, Aoife and Philip Crowe. “Exploring the World through Interactive Mapping.” Space Engagers. 2018. https://spaceengagers.org/. Department of Housing, Planning and Local Government. “National Vacant Housing Reuse Strategy.” Dublin: Department of Housing, Planning, and Local Government. 2018. www.housing.gov.ie/sites/ default/files/publications/files/national_vacant_housing_reuse_strategy_0.pdf. Drummond, Henry. The City Without a Church (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1893). Dublin City Council.“Dublin City Development Plan, 2016–2022 (Written Statement).” Dublin: Dublin City Council. 2016. www.dublincity.ie/sites/default/files/content/Planning/DublinCityDevelopment Plan/Written%20Statement%20Volume%201.pdf. Ellul, Jacques. The Meaning of the City.Translated by Dennis Pardee (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1970). ———. Perspectives on Our Age., ed.,William H.Vandenburg (Toronto, ON:Anansi, 2004). Fitzgerald, Cormac.“FactCheck:Are There More Homeless People in Ireland Now than at Any Time since the Famine?” TheJournal.Ie. Accessed May 6, 2017. www.thejournal.ie/fact-check-homeless-3370182May2017/. Gordon, Wayne and John M. Perkins. Making Neighborhoods Whole: A Handbook for Christian Community Development (Downers Grove, IL: InterVaristy Press, 2013). Hamilton, Peter. “Dublin Has Third Highest Residential Rents in Europe.” The Irish Times. Accessed October 2, 2019. www.irishtimes.com/business/commercial-property/dublin-has-third-highestresidential-rents-in-europe-1.4037438. Hargaden, Kevin. Theological Ethics in a Neoliberal Age.Theopolitical Visions (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2018). Hearne, Rory, Cian O’Callaghan, Cesare Di Feliciantonio, and Rob Kitchin.“The Relational Articulation of Housing Crisis and Activism in Post-Crash Dublin, Ireland.” In Rent and Its Discontents:A Century of Housing Struggle, ed., Neil Gray (New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2018), pp. 153–67. Janssen-Jansen, Leonie and Greg Lloyd.“Property Booms and Bubbles.A Demolition Strategy—Towards a Tabula Rasa?” Journal of Surveying, Construction and Property 3, No. 2 (2017): pp. 1-12. doi.org/10.22452/ jscp.vol3no2.2. Kenna, Padraic. “New Developments in Irish Housing Rights.” 6. Brussels: Feantsa. 2010. https://aran. library.nuigalway.ie/bitstream/handle/10379/1797/New%20Developments%20in%20Irish%20Hous ing%20Rights.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y. Kitchin, Rob, Cian O’Callaghan and Justin Gleeson.“The New Ruins of Ireland? Unfinished Estates in the Post-Celtic Tiger Era.” International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 38, No. 3 (2014): pp. 1069–80. Kitchin, Rob, Cian O’Callaghan, Mark Boyle and Justin Gleeson. “Placing Neoliberalism: The Rise and Fall of Ireland’s Celtic Tiger.” Environment and Planning. part A 44, No. 6 (2012): pp. 1302–26. Kitchin, Rob, Justin Gleeson, Karen Keaveney and Cian O’Callaghan. “A Haunted Landscape: Housing and Ghost Estates in Post-Celtic Tiger Ireland.” NIRSA Working Paper Series. Maynooth: National Institute for Regional and Spatial Analysis. 2010. eprints.maynoothuniversity.ie/2236/1/WP59-A-H aunted-Landscape.pdf.

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(Irish) neoliberalism’s ruins Konings, Martijn. The Emotional Logic of Capitalism (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2015). Lewis, Michael. Boomerang (London: Penguin, 2011). Luther, Martin.“The Large Catechism.” In Triglot Concordia: The Symbolical Books of the Evangelical Lutheran Church (St. Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House, 1921), pp. 565–773. ———. Martin Luther’s Werke : Kritische Gesamtausgabe.Vol. 15 (Weimar: H. Böhlaus Nachfolger, 1899). ———. Martin Luther’s Werke : Kritische Gesamtausgabe.Vol. Briefwechsel 8 (1537–39).Weimarer Ausgabe 4. (Weimar: H. Böhlaus Nachfolger, 1938). Lynch, Kathleen, Sara Cantillon, and Margaret Crean. Austerity and Recovery in Ireland., eds, William K. Roche, Philip J. O’Connell and Andrea Prothero (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), pp. 252–71. MacSharry, Ray and Padraic White. The Making of the Celtic Tiger:The Inside Story of Ireland’s Boom Economy (Cork: Mercier Press, 2000). McGrath, Dominic. “Criticism of Fine Gael Housing Record Is ‘Ideological’, Says Varadkar.” TheJournal. Ie. Accessed November 16, 2019. www.thejournal.ie/leo-housing-varadkar-cork-fine-gael-ideology4894232-Nov2019/. McWilliams, David. Follow The Money (Dublin: Gill & Macmillan, 2009). Mody, Ashoka. EuroTragedy:A Drama in Nine Acts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018). O’Callaghan, Cian.“Planetary Urbanization in Ruins: Provisional Theory and Ireland’s Crisis.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 36, No. 3 (2018): pp. 420–38. doi.org/10.1177/0263775817746173. O’Callaghan, Cian, Cesare Di Feliciantonio and Michael Byrne.“Governing Urban Vacancy in Post-Crash Dublin: Contested Property and Alternative Social Projects.” Urban Geography 39, No. 6 (2018): pp. 868–91. doi.org/10.1080/02723638.2017.1405688. O’Callaghan, Cian, Mark Boyle, and Rob Kitchin. “Post-Politics, Crisis, and Ireland’s ‘Ghost Estates.’” Political Geography 42 (2014): pp. 121–33. doi.org/10.1016/j.polgeo.2014.07.006. O’Flynn, Michael, Lee F. Monaghan, and Martin J. Power. “Scapegoating During a Time of Crisis: A Critique of Post-Celtic Tiger Ireland.” Sociology 48, No. 5 (2014): pp. 921–37. Orosius. Seven Books of History against the Pagans.Translated by A.T. Fear (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2010). O’Sullivan, Colman.“Thousands Attend Dublin Protest over Homeless Crisis.” RTE.Ie. Accessed May 18, 2019. www.rte.ie/news/2019/0518/1050253-housing-homelessness-rally/. O’Toole, Fintan. Ship of Fools (London: Faber and Faber, 2009). Perkins, John M. Beyond Charity (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1993). ———. A Quiet Revolution (Basingstoke: Marshalls, 1976). Riggle, Nicholas Alden.“Street Art:The Transfiguration of the Commonplaces.” Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 68, No. 3 (2010): pp. 243–57. Ross, Shane. The Bankers (Dublin: Penguin, 2009). Ryan, Donal. The Spinning Heart (Dublin: Doubleday Ireland, 2012). Serne-Morin, Chloe.“Filling Vacancies.” Brussels: Feantsa. 2016. https://ec.europa.eu/futurium/sites/futu rium/files/long_version_en.pdf.pdf. Stark, Rodney. Cities of God (San Francisco, CA: Harper One, 2007). Toly, Noah.“Brexit, Global Cities, and the Future of World Order.” Globalizations 14, No. 1 (2017): 142–49. doi.org/10.1080/14747731.2016.1233679. ———.“Cities, the Environment, and Global Governance:A Political Ecological Perspective.” In Cities and Global Governance, eds, Mark Amen, Noah J. Toly, Patricia L. McCarney, and Klaus Segbers (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011), pp. 137–49. ———. “The Meaning of the Global City: Jacques Ellul’s Continued Relevance to 21st-Century Urbanism.” Bulletin of Science,Technology & Society 32, No. 3 (2012): pp. 231–40. Toly, Noah J. “Cities and the Global Environment. In Keeping God’s Earth, eds, Noah J.Toly and Daniel I. Block (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2010), pp. 47–68. Weston, Charlie and Ellie Donnelly. “Almost Half of Properties Snapped up by Cash Buyers.” Irish Independent. Accessed February 19, 2019. www.independent.ie/business/personal-finance/propertymortgages/almost-half-of-properties-snapped-up-by-cash-buyers-37829931.html. Whelan, Karl. “Ireland’s Economic Crisis: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.” UCD Centre for Economic Research Working Paper Series, No.WP 13/06. July 2013. www.ucd.ie/t4cms/WP13_06.pdf. Williams, Brendan, Brian Hughes and Declan Redmond.“Managing an Unstable Housing Market.” UCD Urban Institute Working Paper Series 10, No. 02 (2010): pp. 1–19. Yeats, W.B. Early Poems (Mineola, NY: Dover Thrift, 1993).

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13 RELIGIOUS BUILDINGS AND IDEOLOGICAL CONFLICTS Broken religious sites and unbroken spatial attachments in Jos North, Nigeria Amidu Elabo*

Introduction Jos North Local Government Area (LGA) was created in 1991 as a geopolitical entity out of the old Jos by the administration of General Ibrahim B. Babangida, the former military President of Nigeria. It is in Plateau State, North Central Nigeria, and according to the 2006 national census, it has a population of almost a million. It has an area size of 291 km2 (112.356 m)2 and lies within the latitude 9.916667 N and longitude 8.900000 E. It sits on an average altitude of 1168.1 meters (3832 ft) above sea level, with the highest peak of 1409 meters (4622 ft) at Gwom Nabor. In terms of geopolitical configuration, Jos North shares boundaries with three political entities of equal geopolitical status: Bassa LGA on its western side, Jos South LGA on its southern side, and Jos East LGA on its eastern side. To the north, Jos North is also flanked by Bauchi State, which is a higher geopolitical entity than the other aforementioned Local government areas. As a post-colonial city in Northern Nigeria, Jos North urban center is inhabited by people of diverse ethnicities and religious affiliations.The composition of the city’s inhabitants is predominantly made up of the Anaguta, Berom, and Afezere ethnic groups, who are regarded as the indigenous groups of the area. Other residents of the city include the Hausa–Fulani,Yorubas, Igbos,Tivs, Urobos, and Idomas among others, who immigrated to the city from different parts of Nigeria.While the three indigenous ethnic groups along with other ethnic groups from eastern and western Nigeria (for example, Igbos and Yorubas) are mostly Christian, the Hausa–Fulani are predominantly Muslim. The city currently represents the site where decades of ethno-religious conflicts have triggered a shift in the spatial interactions of religious adherents.This change has not only (re)defined the physical landscape of the city, but also (re)shaped the religious and social lives of its inhabitants. This research relied on ethnographic approach to investigate the motivations behind the destruction of religious buildings in the city of Jos and to understand why religious adherents are reluctant to relinquish control over sites of destroyed religious buildings.Thus, most of the data used in this study were collected during fieldwork (between November 2014 and July *

I would like to thank Thomas Seat, a PhD colleague at Princeton Theological Seminary, for agreeing to edit the first draft of this chapter.

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2019) in Nigeria, where I conducted unstructured interviews and made non-participant observations. The interview engaged informants of different gender, ethnicity, social status, and of diverse religious background.The study also utilizes ESRI ArcGIS cartographical software along with Google Earth Pro version 7.3.2.5776 to represent and analyze the city’s religious spatial formations and transitioning. Ultimately, this chapter explores how religious buildings are both construed as sites for spatial dominance and used as ideological buffers against the so-called territorial expansion of the religious “other” in the urban center of Jos North, Nigeria.

History of Jos’ urban growth If there is any city in Northern Nigeria that is highly contested, it is the city of Jos North. Before its official establishment in 1915 by the British colonialists, the Jihadist forces of Ibrahim dan Yakubu from Bauchi fought to subjugate the area under the control of the Sokoto Emirate.1 However, through the allied force of its indigenous groups comprising the Anaguta, Afezere, Berom,Amo, and Buji, the Islamic expansionists were routed and defeated in the historical battle of 1873 at Rafin Jaki, Naraguta.2 The invading jihadists lost 41 soldiers, 12 horses, and 18 cattle in the battle, and the survivors fled to Tilden Fulani to seek refuge.3 These events transpired just before the advent of the colonial regime in 1902 that finally subjugated the ethnic inhabitants of the Jos area, appropriated their lands, and exploited their natural resources.4 In 1902, when Col. H.W. Laws of the Royal Niger Company discovered tin ore at the village of Ibi, he mobilized a military force composed of ethnic migrants and armed them with the most sophisticated weapons of the time to subdue the so-called hostile indigenous polities.5 This so-called “pacification” of the indigenous polities led to the establishment of a tin mining company at Naraguta village, which eventually triggered the immigration of tin workers, business investors, and people of different skills from all parts of Nigeria and beyond.6 Eventually, the Jos area became a significant economic hub that grew into an urban center inhabited by diverse ethnicities with the need for a formal urban administrative system.The indigenous nationalities were not interested in the colonial capitalist project, which they not only saw as the inversion of their ancestral territory but also as a distraction from their traditional occupation of subsistence farming.7 The Hausa–Fulani Muslim migrants, on the other hand, by co-operating with the British colonialists, successfully populated the geographical space that now constitutes the heart of the city.8 Given their significant presence and power, the Hausa–Fulani framed part of the city’s identity by drawing on Hausa–Arab architecture and cultural values. Examples of this spatial transformation include street names,Arab–Hausa architecture, fashion, political control of 9 out of Jos’s 20 wards, Hausa ownership of business and proprieties, and mosques whose spatial visibilities constitute a defining dimension of the city landscape, among others. Toward the end of the twentieth century, the administration of General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida strategically divided Jos into two separate geopolitical entities: Jos North and Jos South Local Government Areas.9 This political decision was perceived as a spatial tactic designed to give the Hausa and Fulani Muslims political agency to assert their presence as well as to position them to have a significant sense of control in a place where they had a sizeable population.10 Most Christians in the city (regardless of ethnicity) saw it as a pre-colonial Jihadic calculation to re-shape the cultural and geopolitical destiny of the city as well as a significant achievement in the Islamization agenda of the Middle Belt and the remaining part of the country.11 The struggle between the indigenous polities and the Hausa and Fulani Muslims over who is the rightful owner of the city emerged from the above historical contexts, and it has remained the most intractable and volatile form of contestations.12 Over the last three and half decades, such struggle has exploded into repeated conflicts that have significantly transformed the spatial configuration of the 183

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city.13 These conflicts have not only triggered a shift in spatial relations but also created what one may call the “spatial footprint” of decades of religious interactions. In other words, they have inscribed layers of spatial stories, meanings, and discourses of hostilities into the urban landscape of the city.14 Visible evidence of the spatial footprint include: the ruins of religious buildings dotting the landscapes of the cities; the former sites of burned-down houses occupied by adherents of different religions in various localities and those from which they were expelled or vacated; the current pattern of intracity mobility; religious iconic representations, counter-representation, and de-representation; spatial memories and narratives; spatial contestations; and spatial segregation.

History of religious buildings in Jos North In the pre-colonial era, the presence of indigenous shrines, sacred hunting grounds, sacred forests, and farmlands were the religious spatial forms that defined the landscape of the Jos area.15 However, the advent of colonial tin mining expeditions combined with the rapid urban development led to a significant destruction of these sites. Such indiscriminate exploitations of the natural resources of the area left significant ecological havoc in their wake and many big craters in the geographical landscape of the area. Most of these mines have now become dams.16 While tin mining expeditions did wreak havoc on the ecological formations of the area and subsequently destroyed many indigenous religious sites, the destruction was not total. Some of the sacred shrines and places survived.Among them are monolith rock pillars that depict ancient religious practices and cosmologies of the earliest indigenous settlers.Their symbolic values are drawn upon by the present indigenous polities of the area to assert their unbroken ancestral ties with the land. Also, the hill located at the center of the city,17 the current site of the Jos Museum, is revered by the Afezere ethnic group and also the site for their annual festival, which is observed to commemorate its historical, religious, and spatial significance. However, most literature, colonial records, and anthropological studies have scarcely examined the historiography of religious sites in the urban center.Two of Elizabeth Isichei’s works, written in 1991,18 did mention one of the indigenous rock monoliths situated two and a half kilometers from the city’s center at Dogon Dutse. While she argues that the monolith was politicized as a result of urban development and the rise in land value, her works lack in-depth ethnographic study on its contested nature, especially between the Anaguta, Buji, and Berom indigenous ethnic groups of the Jos area. Such a gap shows how religious sites were not taken seriously as paradigms for understanding the social processes in the city.This position may also explain why there is little or no historiography on how places of worship were established in the urban center of Jos. It is germane, then, to give a historical sketch of some of the first churches and mosques established in Jos’s urban center.A historical sketch of their presence in Jos’s urban landscape provides an illuminating context for analyzing the quest for spatial dominance through the symbolic utilization of religious buildings. It also implies that this historical sketch relied mainly on oral sources, especially about the history of mosques.There are hardly any documents on the history of mosques in the city among the Hausa and Fulani communities. Almost all the vital pieces of information about events in the history of the community were preserved and transmitted orally. An elderly informant who grew up and resided around the area of the first central mosque claimed that the first mosque was built over 160 or 170 years ago.19 The exact date that it was built is difficult to discern, given the apparent lack of documentation. However, a professor at the University of Jos stated that this claim lacks historical and anthropological veracity.20 Given that the colonial headquarters was relocated from Naraguta to the current site of the city between 1910 and 1915, and, given the subsequent movement of the Hausa community along with it, it seems more likely that it was built around the same period.21 Most Hausa oral sources 184

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agree that the first Jumah mosque (Friday mosque) was built in the heart of the city, close to the residence of the second Sarkin Hauasawa (Chief of Hausas) at Adebayo Street. However, when the residence of the Hausa chief was changed to a new place at Yan Doya, the mosque lost its status as the central mosque to a new one at Yan Tire, a kilometer east of the former site. This building is what the members of the Izala movement (anti-Sufism) currently use as their Jumah Mosque. In 1947, the central mosque shifted to its current permanent site at Masallachi Jumah Street, in the western part of the city. The central mosque was built in the early 1950s and opened for prayers by the late Sarduana of Sokoto, Sir Ahmadu Bello, the first premier of Northern Nigeria, in 1959.As the population of Muslims grew and the size of their settlement expanded, the number of mosques, which were of different types and sizes, also multiplied, rivaling the comparable proliferation of churches in the city. The history of church building also goes back to the early twentieth century. Some of the earliest churches in the city include the ECWA Bishara 1 (Evangelical Church Winning All) founded by the Canadian missionary Andrew Park Stirrett in 1910; the First Baptist Church was founded in 1911 by Ogbomosho Yoruba Christian immigrants from western Nigeria; and St. Luke Anglican Church was founded in 1913 by Igbo and Yoruba ethnic migrants from southern and western Nigeria. These were some of the first Christian religious buildings in the urban center of Jos. Other churches that were built during colonial subjugation and conquest include the Church of Christ in Nations (COCIN) Chemyap in 1947 and Cherubim and Seraphim Church Delimi in 1937.While First Baptist church celebrated its centenary in 2011 and published a booklet of its history, St. Luke Anglican Cathedral celebrated 100 years of existence in 2013. ECWA Bishara 1, First Baptist Church and the first Jumah mosque were sited at the same locations, close to the chief of Jos palace and the colonial headquarters. The emergence of Pentecostal Christianity of different strands in Northern Nigeria around the 1970s22 and the establishment of the Jama’at’ Izalat al-Bid ‘a wa-Iqamat al-Sunna (Society of Removal of Innovation and Re-establishment of the Sunna) Izala (anti-Sufism) movement in 197823 led to a significant proliferation of mosques and Christian denominational churches across Jos’s urban landscape. A casual observation of the city landscape confirms this phenomenon and reveals how sites of worship of different architectural makes and structural sizes are situated at key (and sometimes odd) locations. Religious spaces for worship and prayers are created at place like on the city’s rocky hilltops, clusters of vegetation at the city roundabouts, spaces close to ATM posts, in banks and hotels, under mango trees, at official road demarcations, gas stations, police stations, transport motor parks, government houses, hostels, residential houses, official government buildings, primary schools, secondary schools, and tertiary institutions in the city. The urban landscape of the city is not only saturated with dense religious buildings, labels, and other forms of religious markers but, as Nigel Thrift put it, their presence on the city’s landscape makes it “quiver with affective energy.”24 Thus, any attack or destruction of places of worship tends to generate affective meanings that can have a profound impact on the inhabitants of the city—especially their sense of place, belonging, and capacity for social cohesion.

Conflict and religious buildings The siting of most of these religious buildings violates the laws governing the arrangements of the city.The decisions to build and site most of these buildings rarely get the approval of appropriate authorities responsible for urban development like the Jos Metropolitan Development Board (JMDB) or the Ministry of Land and Survey. Religious believers in the city rarely take into consideration the physical, environmental, and social impact that building their places of worship could have on their community.An informant noted that the number of undocumented, 185

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unregulated, and unapproved edifices dotting the landscape of the city reveal the impunity and pervasive nature of these practices. He stated that it is only traditional churches like the Catholic church, COCIN, Baptist church,Anglican, and the Central Mosque that have building permits, while most religious buildings in the city were built without permits or approved building plans.25 Several reasons were given to explain the city administration’s inefficiency to enforce control and to ensure that religious bodies adhere to official urban policies. First, religious sentiment plays a significant role in how government officials treat building plans and applications.26 In other words, ethnic and religious sentiments affect the implementation of urban planning policies as well as encouraging development control officers to ignore standards of urban planning. Second, corruption among municipal officials prevents strict enforcement of developmental rules, which led to the building of illegal structures.27 Third, the spatial segregation of the city along religious lines makes municipal workers feel unsafe in specific neighborhoods because of their religious identities. Finally, the government stopped issuing land titles and certificates of occupancy to landowners due to the fear of the city being taken over by immigrants. For example, the former administration of Governor Jonah Jang refused to issue certificates of occupancy to the public from 2007 down to 2014.28 The failure in regulating the building of religious buildings on Jos’s urban landscape is central to the day-to-day social process of the city.29 They also serve as triggers for conflict and are themselves vulnerable targets for destruction in times of conflict. A good example is the Tijani George Best Jumah Mosque destroyed in the 2001 Jos crisis.A wealthy Tariqa Muslim (Sufi Muslim) built it adjacent to his private residence and beside a major public road with little consideration for its spatial, environmental, or social impact. In 2001, it was regarded as the primary source of the conflict that broke out in the city.30 The mosque was attacked and destroyed along with other religious sites across different neighborhoods in the city.According to Plateau Indigenous Development Association Network (PIDAN), between 2001 and 2012 a total of 42 churches and 25 mosques were destroyed.31 For instance, the Dilimi Cherubim and Seraphim church at the center of the city was attacked and destroyed in almost all of the episodes of conflict that broke out in the city. Even with these incessant attacks on the church and the loss of many of its members, the older members of the church will not leave the church for another location.They are still adamant about worshiping in the church, probably for sentimental reasons.32 A close examination of the ruins of most religious sites after conflicts reveals different degrees of damage. While some of them were pulverized entirely, others had their roofs and other combustible parts burned, leaving their walls standing with the black marks of fire scourges on them. In other instances, the destruction inflicted on them was so severe that little or no visible evidence of the building exists in their original locations (see Figure 13.1).Their debris and surviving structures show evidence of the use of powerful types of equipment like sledgehammers and diggers to achieve maximum destruction (see Figures 13.1 and 13.2).These efforts are not only intended to eliminate the material visibility of these sites but also to permanently alter the spatial configuration of the neighborhoods, creating new spatial narratives and meanings. Such extreme attitudes raise the questions: why would members of the city’s different religious communities go to such lengths to de-spatialize the religious presence of the other? What are their motivations for attacking places that are deemed sacred and presumably off-limits for mundane forms of aggression? Furthermore, almost all these ruined sites, especially those in the Muslim enclaves, have been turned into refuse dumps by the dominant community (see Figures 13.2 to 13.4). They have become public toilets, as well as children’s playgrounds, or hideouts for illicit-substance users.

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Figure 13.1 Destroyed mosque at Angwan Rukuba, Jos, Nigeria.

Figure 13.2 COCIN Church in Angwan Rogo, Jos, Nigeria, turned into a waste dump. Note: Picture taken 2019

While their deplorable conditions are eyesores and can even pose as a health hazard to these communities, it is vital to mention that the city lacks effective sanitary and waste disposal systems.The implication of this for the Hausa–Fulani Muslim community is even worse given that their capacity to expand residentially within the city is significantly limited.Although by turning these religious sites into places of waste disposal, probably for lack of space, for some, it represents an assault on and contestation of the territorial essence of these places, and a mockery of their spatial meaning and significance. 187

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Figure 13.3 St. John Catholic Church in Ubel Angwan Rimi, Kaduna, Nigeria, turned into a waste dump.

An analysis of informant responses shows different motivations for attacking religious buildings. First, based on coding references from QSR International’s (2019) NVivo 12.3 Plus qualitative research software out of the 25 interview sources coded, 8 of them viewed the targeting and destruction of religious buildings as attempts to achieve spatial purity and ideological dominance within neighborhood landscapes. Second, respondents argued that another motive for attacking religious buildings is to inflict psychological pain on the “enemy,” real or imagined. For instance, one of the female respondents stated: when you touch a church or when you touch a mosque, you are not touching an individual, but you are touching the entire followers of that religion. Even when it is not my mosque, but for the fact that you have touched a mosque, you have touched me.33 Third, most Muslim informants explain that the attack on religious buildings happens as a result of a lack of proper religious knowledge and weak adherence to religious teaching among youths. For them, Islamic teachings forbid Muslims from attacking and destroying religious buildings. Fourth, given the level of substance abuse in the city, most Muslim respondents attribute the use of illicit substances and quest for ideological fame among youths as one of the significant factors responsible for the aggressions toward the sacred building. Fifth, there is a consensus among some respondents from both religions that religious leaders in their sermons are in the habit of inciting their members to hate people of other religions.34 Finally, given the emotional implications of attacking places of worship, some of the respondents argued that retaliations are inevitable when members of a religion destroyed the religious sites of another religion. They argued that places of worship are usually isolated and lack the constant presence of worshippers 24 hours a day and 7 days a week, thus making them easy targets. 188

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Figure 13.4 St. Deeper Life Church in Angwan Rimi, Kaduna, Nigeria, turned into a waste dump. Note: Picture taken 2019

Broken religious sites and unbroken spatial attachments This section explores and discusses the anxieties, sentiments, and hopes behind the deployment of ruins of religious buildings and abandoned sites of worship as symbols of territorialization within the broader reconfiguration of space in the city. It investigates why religious communities in the city of Jos are willing to sell-off their residential houses but not the abandoned sites and ruins of religious buildings within segregated enclaves.To explore such an aim, I engage the spatiality and materiality of the religious buildings in the city by employing the combination of two approaches. First, I draw on original ethnographic data (interviews, observations, and photos) as well as utilize the qualitative QSR International’s (2019) NVivo 12.3 Plus research software to code the interview transcripts.The analysis of these transcripts generated discursive themes and visual statistical formats of participant responses. Second, I simultaneously utilize quantitative Esri’s ArcGIS 10.6.1 cartographical software to represent the cartographic and spatial transitioning of the city.The use of the cartographical software to analyze, manipulate, and visually represent spatial data led to an in-depth understanding of the nature of religious interaction in Jos North.

Ideological buffers, hope, and historical monuments The call for Sharia implementation in 1999 in 12 states by Muslims in Northern Nigeria not only triggered conflict but also intensified the anxieties of non-Muslims in the region (and likely the nation as a whole). Also, the emergence of the Boko Haram terrorist group and the growth of the Muslim population as a result of high birth rate exacerbates uncertainties and anxieties among most Christians in northern Nigeria.35 For instance, the Nvivo10 coding excerpts of transcript material reveals that 8.47% of participant responses indicate that relinquishing control over the ruined religious sites is interpreted as 189

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a way of preventing the spatial expansion of the religious other. Out of this, 8.02% with up to 7 coding references represent the claims of Christians, and the rest of the 0.45% with 1 coding reference represent Muslim perception of the issue. Furthermore, a female respondent stated that: [I]f you sell that land now, [Muslims] will keep occupying like those churches that were burnt if they sell it to them, they could turn it to a mosque or turn it to residence of their own and you know them they can have, one man can have four wives, they will keep giving birth and they just keep occupying, so is better for them not to even sell it.36 Her view fails to explain why, after conflicts, believers are willing to sell their houses and not their places of worship.While believers may not be comfortable with this development because of sentimental attachments to, or the physical architectural values of, these buildings, they seem to be more comfortable in selling off their houses than relinquishing control over ruined places of worship. However, selling these houses is solely a private, individual arrangement, while the same thing cannot be said of places of worship that may involve the co-operating decisions of church members.37 Members of both religions would rather have the government take over these sites and turn them into police stations or hospitals than sell them to each other.38 Furthermore, after running the Nvivo10 word frequency query function on interview transcripts, the reoccurring top 5 words that emerged according to the highest rate of occurrences were:“church,” 63 instances;“place,” 63 instances;“come,” 53 instances;“sell,” 52 instances; and “think,” 44 instances. However, a further investigation of the word “think” within the transcribed text reveals how the destroyed sites of religious buildings are seen as beacons of hope. Almost all the respondents insist that they should not be changed because of the hope that, one day, worshippers will return to them again. However, such optimism needs to be tempered given the current sociological fact of the spatial segregation of the city along religious lines. In other words, rather than offer practical hope, most of the responses only show desire, since these religious buildings will hardly be rebuilt along with the implications of their members resuming worship in them again. For instance, the case of the Church of Christ in Nations (COCIN) and the Association for the Removal of Innovation and the Establishment of the Sunna (aka Izala) demonstrates how difficult it is for believers to regain control over places of worship destroyed in previous conflicts. The 2011 Muslim Eid festival crisis clearly illustrates how the body is used to contest and (un) bound place. During that crisis, most of the Izala believers, using “ideologically constructed bodies,” walked from their Muslim enclave through Christian-dominated settlements to observe after Ramadan Eid al-Fitr prayer in Angwan Rukuba, a Christian-dominated area over two kilometers away from their settlement (see Figure 13.5). Although security agencies in the city warned them against going to pray at the site, their members still went ahead to pray at the Eid ground.39 Eventually the Izalas were attacked, and many of them died in the violence that broke out. Some of their cadavers were used to mock and insult their faith and to contest the identity of the area.Video footage of the incidents uploaded on YouTube shows how the severed body parts of some of the Izala members were displayed. Specifically, it shows an instance when 190

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Figure 13.5 Map of the spatial transitioning of Jos North, Nigeria.

a Can of Harp lager beer, an alcoholic beverage, was placed in the charred hand of a Muslim corpse and a decapitated head was placed on sticks and displayed from an elevated position40 (see Figures 13.6 and 13.7). Similarly, after the 2001 violence, members of the COCIN church were determined to continue worshiping in Angwan Rogo, a Muslim-dominated neighborhood, even though most of the Christian residents within the area had left because they feared for their lives.41 With the church building destroyed, members of the church rebuilt it again and resumed “normal” church activities amid a community that had spatially transformed.They carried on with their worship despite the volatile nature of the time, the ideological change of the locality, and the tragic loss of 52 members of the church in the 2001 crisis.42 According to members, even though some of their members had relocated from the area, they continued to visit the church for services from their new locations for seven more years after the 2001 crisis.Within this period, the church was repeatedly threatened, attacked, and destroyed. However, after its final destruction in 2008, they eventually moved the church one and a half kilometers away from the Angwan Rogo settlement to another location behind the School of Forestry.43 The resumption of religious activities in these areas by both Christians and Muslims despite the risks demonstrates the anxieties among religious communities of conceding space to the other. It was not only a daring move but also probably a form of asserting their religious being while sustaining the identity of the urban landscape. Given the shift in the spatial configuration of the city after years of conflicts, it is almost impossible to understand why believers are ready to carry on with religious activities in places that pose a significant risk to their lives. It seems that believers have forged strong moral ties with religious sites in the city, even when they are destroyed. Relinquishing them seems like a form of sacred betrayal and an indication 191

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Figure 13.6 NVivo matrix coding query chart for religious sites as symbols of hope and ideological buffers.

Figure 13.7 Izala Eid Prayer ground at Rukuba Road, Jos, Nigeria. Source: Google Earth, Imagery © 2020 CNES/Airbus, Maxar Technologies, Map data © 2020

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that the believers’ faith lacks moral compass. One of the informants states,“if you sell the house of God, then it means you are selling God away.”44 In the same vein, another informant stated: “do you think, you will exchange a church for a mosque on God’s behalf, are you sure God will be pleased with that?”45 Thus, despite the sociological realities of the situation and the near impossibility of regaining control over them again, the divine obligation to observe the “will of God” plays a significant role in (re)shaping the spatial identity of the city. Rather than being driven by pragmatic considerations, believers are more concerned with their actions aligning with metaphysical realities or supernatural ethical requirements. While this is a theologically loaded notion beyond this chapter’s scope, it is evident that the process of space production (whether physical, social, or cognitive) in Jos’s urban center is framed by allegiance to “higher powers.” It also reflects the complexity of human agency in the (re)creation of space in the city. In a society where its residents are highly religious and religious buildings are seen as the embodiments of divinity, such orientation has a very significant influence on the dynamic process of space.Whether it accelerates or halts the process, the obligation to adhere to divine dictates in these cases demonstrates efforts to ensure the preservation of space in order to sustain ideological hegemony. An informant argued that, rather than sell these ruined religious sites, they should be kept as “historical monuments.” In his words, they serve as the historical evidence that will “[be] featured in an argument hereafter by historians on how far the Christians were bastardized, and of course, were nearly annihilated.”46 This statement reflects the growing level of spatial anxieties among Christians in the region. Importantly, it reflects the capacity for spatial rhetoric by believers rather than an objective assessment of the urban conditions. Also, it demonstrates the potential for stereotyping among members of the different religious communities in a city where places of worship have become recurrent targets of attacks in all conflicts.

Spatial powers of ruined religious sites There are other explanations regarding why religious communities in the city are unwilling to relinquish destroyed religious buildings. First, some residents are convinced that leaving these places in their present condition may eventually lead to the healing of the spatial divide that currently exists in the city. Second, their continued existence is believed to hold a kind of spatial power that will ensure the continuity of “true diversity” (restoring trust and respect). That is, religious buildings are considered to be imbued with restorative properties and serve as a cultural thermometer for measuring the degree of urban diversity. For instance, while one of the participants argued that “if we interchange the places of worship, then it means that we have already separated ourselves, it means that forever we are not going to come back together.”47 Another respondent posited: I do not encourage religious organizations to hand over their structures to the predominant community. Like a mosque now being turned to church or a church being turned to a mosque. I do not encourage that, let it remain as it was and for worshippers to move into that community and worship during their service time. It will create a more harmonious relationship.48 He also maintains that for Christian and Muslims to swap these religious sites between themselves implies that the religious activities of particular religions will be hidden from members of another religion, making it impossible to eliminate stereotyping and misconceptions of the other. Thus, the spatial visibility of religious buildings of different religions co-existing within 193

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one cultural precinct can help check the capacity for religious prejudice and enhance the appreciation for social diversity. Also, some of the respondents believe that leaving these structures in their current dilapidated condition may create remorse in the minds of members of different religious communities and could serve as spatial deterrent against future inter-religious hostility. This theory has led to the belief that, if these buildings are restored, it will lead to a rise in tensions and suspicions between the different religious communities in the city.

Conclusion: Anxieties, sentiments, and hope This study teases out the spatial power of religious buildings and their centrality to the nature of intra- and inter-faith relations in Jos’s urban space. Their presence on the urban landscape of the city tests not only the durability of the social diversity of its inhabitants but also how they constitute its defining elements. Furthermore, these religious buildings were employed as spatial standards for validating the nature and quality of urban existence that is religiously pluralistic.The materiality of religious buildings, along with the mobility of bodies, conditioned by different ideological claims, now represents the complexity of inter-faith relationships in the city that is beyond economic and political configuration.Also, they serve as the basis through which residents of the city forge and measure their bonds with the city as well as determine their sense of belonging. Furthermore, the findings of this work reveal how religious buildings are construed as sites for spatial dominance and, at the same time, ideological buffers against the territorial expansion of the so-called religious “other.”There is a competition for the material visibility of religious buildings in the city.The visible representations of these religious symbols on the city’s physical and social landscapes appear to represent the level of power that each community wields over the “soul of the city.”49 Thus, contesting and de-representing them from the urban landscape reveals the spatial dynamics that ultimately define religious interaction in the city. It also feeds into the social discourse about the nature of rootedness and a sense of belonging among its residents. Such a dilemma not only exposes the complexity of urban life beyond the indigene–settler dichotomy among ethnic groups but also opens unexplored areas that need to be unpacked in other to gain deeper and fresher understanding of the city. One such area includes analyzing and understanding the urban center of Jos by considering its spatial ties with other spatial entities beyond its borders, particularly in terms of political and cultural configurations. Jos North is not only made up of 20 electoral wards as well as 18 localities; it is also one of the 17 LGAs of Plateau State.Thus, the attempt to isolate the urban center and examine it alone without regard to other spatial units outside its boundary provides a limited understanding of the forces that feed into its spatial identity, meaning, and the nature of relationships within its borders. The efforts to obliterate the religious buildings of the other from the neighborhood landscape undermine the spatial quality of simultaneity.50 Simultaneity, as one of the qualities of space,“is the sphere of the possibility of the existence of multiplicity; that is space as the sphere in which distinct trajectories co-exist; as the sphere therefore of co-existing heterogeneity.”51 Thus, the struggle to de-spatialize the other seems to work toward the “homogenization” of place, which subsequently diminishes spatial simultaneity.While these attempts at homogenization may have changed the nature of spatial practice in these localities, does it mean they can erase the memories and effects infused in these places? According to an informant, believers should not give up control of the ruins of religious buildings because of their sentimental and symbolic values. In other words, they are spatial reminders of what has happened in such locations, and they can also prevent subsequent generations from forgetting their historical significance.52 Thus, as this study has shown, attacking and destroying religious buildings neither diminishes the spatial power of a given site, nor does it mute the particular affiliated group’s spatial presence. 194

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The history of violence in the city has created a condition where the values and functions of religious sites are transformed into symbols of spatial hegemony and rootedness. Persisting conflict in the city of Jos provides the context in which the function of worship sites not only extends beyond interaction with the sacred but also embodies control and a sense of rootedness. They have shaped and are shaping the nature of religious interaction in the city, for better or worse. In other words, the nature of Jos’s urban diversity is tied to the spatial configuration of religious sites.Thus, the current upgrades and fortifications of religious buildings in the city are not only designed to forestall future attempts at destroying them, but also to signify territorialization.They also represent the quest for social rootedness among the religious communities as well as their capacities to assert their sense of place in the city. Most respondents see the preservation of these ruined religious sites as symbols of hope.While some of them believe that these places will heal the city’s spatial segregation, others argue that the selling off of religious sites would encourage the expansionist agenda of various religious communities. Some informants are convinced that maintaining control over the ruins of religious buildings will diminish anxieties and ensure confidence to thrive in a highly pluralistic city like Jos. Finally, the task of mapping and analyzing the spatial distribution of religious buildings across Jos North’s landscape remains to be investigated. These include the politics of siting religious buildings within residential spaces, official spaces, and odd locations against the city’s built environment, as mentioned above, without regard for urban planning laws and their social implications. Other spatial ramifications defining the urban landscape of the city that are yet to be critically explored include: the spatial practices of using religious spatial labels on various institution of educations, public, and private transportations, as well as in public and private homes; the aggressive spatial displays of icons, labels, and ideological markers by Tariqa Sufi Islam to assert their identity against the Izala reformist movement; and the proselytizing spatial assertiveness of Pentecostal Christianity in the city.This means that the perceptions of space between members of the same religion are not homogeneous. In other words, the intra- and inter-religious spatial interactions of using different forms of spatial representations and contestations of spaces across the urban landscape of Jos, like any other city in Africa, would need to be critically analyzed and unpacked in order to understand these relationships. Such would lead to a deeper, holistic understanding of twenty-first-century African cities.

Notes 1 Anthony Dung Bingel, Jos, Origins and Growth of the Town, 1900 to 1972 (Jos, Nigeria: Dept. of Geography, University of Jos, 1978), p. 2. 2 Bingel, p. 2. 3 Bingel, p. 2. 4 Bill Freund, Capital and Labour in the Nigerian Tin Mines (Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press, 1981), pp. 34–35. 5 Leonard Plotnicov, Strangers to the City: Urban Man in Jos, Nigeria (University of Pittsburgh Press, 1967), p. 33. 6 Bingel, Jos, Origins and Growth of the Town, 1900 to 1972, p. 9. 7 Effects of the Jos/Plateau Conflicts and Crises, & Their Implications on Nigeria’s National Security:The Pidan Perspective, PIDAN Publication; Vol. 2, No. 1 (Jos, Nigeria: Plateau Initiative for Development and Advancement of the Natives (PIDAN), 2013), pp. 20–22. 8 Freund, Capital and Labour in the Nigerian Tin Mines, pp. 50–51. 9 Umar Habila Dadem Danfulani, “The Jos Peace Conference and the Indigene/Settler Question in Nigerian Politics,” Unpublished Paper, 2006, p. 2. 10 Philip Ostien,“Jonah Jang and the Jasawa: Ethno-Religious Conflict in Jos, Nigeria,” SSRN Scholarly Paper (Rochester, NY: Social Science Research Network, August 19, 2009), p. 9, https://papers.ssrn. com/abstract=1456372.

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Amidu Elabo 11 Ostien, pp. 29–34. 12 Leonard Plotnicov,“Who Owns Jos? Ethnic Ideology in Nigerian Urban Politics,” Urban Anthropology, 1972, 001–013; Ostien, “Jonah Jang and the Jasawa”; Umar Habila Dadem Danfulani and Sati U. Fwatshak,“Briefing:The September 2001 Events in Jos, Nigeria,” African Affairs, 2002, pp. 243–55. 13 Ostien,“Jonah Jang and the Jasawa,” p. 9. 14 Christopher Tilley, A Phenomenology of Landscape: Places, Paths, and Monuments,Vol. 10 (Berg Oxford, 1994), pp. 29–34. 15 Simon Davou Mwadkwon, “Silencing The Spirits Of The Shrines: The Impact of Tin Mining on Berom Religion And Ecology” (Thesis, 2010), http://irepos.unijos.edu.ng/jspui/handle/1234 56789/226. 16 Mwadkwon, p. 4. 17 Bingel, Jos, Origins and Growth of the Town, 1900 to 1972, p. 2. 18 Elizabeth Isichei, “Change in Anaguta Traditional Religion,” Canadian Journal of African Studies/ La Revue Canadienne Des Études Africaines 25, No. 1 (1991): pp. 34–57; Elizabeth Isichei, “On Being Invisible: An Historical Perspective of the Anaguta and Their Neighbors,” The International Journal of African Historical Studies 24, No. 3 (1991): pp. 513–56. 19 Interview by Elabo Amidu on January 14, 2015. 20 Interview by Elabo Amidu on January 23, 2015. 21 Bingel, Jos, Origins and Growth of the Town, 1900 to 1972, pp. 5–6. 22 Ogbu Kalu,“Sharia and Islam in Nigerian Pentecostal Rhetoric, 1970–2003,” Pneuma 26, No. 2 (2004): pp. 242–61. 23 Ramzi Ben Amara,“Shaykh Ismaila Idris (1937–2000), the Founder of the Izala Movement in Nigeria,” Annual Review of Islam in Africa 11 (2012): p. 74. 24 Nigel Thrift, “Intensities of Feeling: Towards a Spatial Politics of Affect,” Geografiska Annaler: Series B, Human Geography 86, No. 1 (2004): p. 86. 25 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, February 9, 2015. 26 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, February 9, 2015. 27 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, February 9, 2015. 28 Ostien,“Jonah Jang and the Jasawa,” p. 26. 29 Ulrika Andersson Trovalla, Medicine for Uncertain Futures:A Nigerian City in the Wake of a Crisis (Uppsala: Uppsala Universitet, 2011), pp. 64–70. 30 Trovalla, pp. 65–67. 31 Natives., Effect of the Jos/Plateau Conflict and Crises, & their Implications on, pp. 148–50. 32 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, January 21, 2015. 33 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, January 21, 2015. 34 Danny McCain, Musa Gaiya, and Katrina A. Korb,“Salt and Light or Salt and Pepper:Views on EthnoReligious Violence and Peace among Pentecostals in Nigeria,” Pneuma 36, No. 1 (2014): pp. 81–106. 35 1615 L. St NW, Suite 800 Washington, and DC 20036 USA202-419-4300 | Main202-419-4349 | Fax202-419-4372 | Media Inquiries, “Projected Changes in the Global Muslim Population,” Pew Research Center’s Religion & Public Life Project (blog), April 2, 2015, www.pewforum.org/2015/04/02/ muslims/. 36 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, January 20, 2015. 37 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, January 11, 2015. 38 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, December 7, 2014. 39 Laura Thaut Vinson, Religion,Violence, and Local Power-Sharing in Nigeria (Cambridge University Press, 2017), p. 1. 40 Attack on Muslims in Jos Aug 2011, accessed October 25, 2019, www.youtube.com/watch?v= SYx4jH4T1KA. 41 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, December 07, 2014. 42 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, December 07, 2014. 43 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, May 27, 2015, 2014. 44 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, December 7, 2014. 45 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, January 11, 2015. 46 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, February 7, 2015. 47 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, January 19, 2015. 48 Interview by Elabo Amidu, Jos North, January 18, 2025. 49 Interview by Elabo Amidu, January 10, 2015.

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Religious buildings and conflicts 50 Doreen Massey,“Politics and Space/Time,” New Left Review, No. 196 (1992): p. 65. 51 Doreen Massey and Doreen B. Massey, For Space (Sage, 2005), p. 9. 52 Interview by Elabo Amidu, January 26, 2015.

Bibliography Amara, Ramzi Ben. “Shaykh Ismaila Idris (1937–2000), the Founder of the Izala Movement in Nigeria.” Annual Review of Islam in Africa 11 (2012): pp. 74–78. Attack on Muslims in Jos Aug 2011.Accessed October 25, 2019. www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYx4jH4T1KA. Bingel, Anthony Dung. Jos, Origins and Growth of the Town, 1900 to 1972 (Jos, Nigeria: Department of Geography, University of Jos, 1978). Danfulani, Umar Habila Dadem. “The Jos Peace Conference and the Indigene/Settler Question in Nigerian Politics‖, given at a Seminar on Interreligious Conflict in Nigeria, at the African Studies Centre, Leiden on March 2, 2006, 2006.. Danfulani, Umar Habila Dadem and Sati U. Fwatshak. “Briefing: The September 2001 Events in Jos, Nigeria.” African Affairs Vol. 101, No. 403.April (2002): pp. 243–55. Effects of the Jos/Plateau Conflicts and Crises, & Their Implications on Nigeria’s National Security: The Pidan Perspective. PIDAN Publication; Vol. 2, No. 1 (Jos, Nigeria: Plateau Initiative for Development and Advancement of the Natives (PIDAN), 2013). Freund, Bill. Capital and Labour in the Nigerian Tin Mines (Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press, 1981). Isichei, Elizabeth. “Change in Anaguta Traditional Religion.” Canadian Journal of African Studies/Revue Canadienne Des Etudes Africaines 25, No. 1 (1991): pp. 34–57. ———. “On Being Invisible: An Historical Perspective of the Anaguta and Their Neighbors.” The International Journal of African Historical Studies 24, No. 3 (1991): pp. 513–56. Kalu, Ogbu. “Sharia and Islam in Nigerian Pentecostal Rhetoric, 1970–2003.” Pneuma 26, No. 2 (2004): pp. 242–61. Massey, Doreen.“Politics and Space/Time.” New Left Review, No. 196 (1992): p. 65. Massey, Doreen and Doreen B. Massey. For Space (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE, 2005). McCain, Danny, Musa Gaiya and Katrina A. Korb. “Salt and Light or Salt and Pepper:Views on EthnoReligious Violence and Peace among Pentecostals in Nigeria.” Pneuma 36, No. 1 (2014): pp. 81–106. Mwadkwon, Simon Davou. “Silencing the Spirits of The Shrines: The Impact of Tin Mining on Berom Religion and Ecology.” 2010. irepos.unijos.edu.ng/jspui/handle/123456789/226. NW, 1615 L. St, Suite 800 Washington and DC 20036 USA202-419-4300 | Main202-419-4349 | Fax202419-4372 | Media Inquiries. “Projected Changes in the Global Muslim Population.” Pew Research Center’s Religion & Public Life Project (blog). Accessed April 2, 2015. www.pewforum.org/2015/04/02/ muslims/. Ostien, Philip. “Jonah Jang and the Jasawa: Ethno-Religious Conflict in Jos, Nigeria.” SSRN Scholarly Paper. Rochester, NY: Social Science Research Network. Accessed August 19, 2009. https://papers. ssrn.com/abstract=1456372. Plotnicov, Leonard. Strangers to the City: Urban Man in Jos, Nigeria (Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1967). ———. “Who Owns Jos? Ethnic Ideology in Nigerian Urban Politics.” Urban Anthropology (1972): pp. 1–13. Thrift, Nigel. “Intensities of Feeling: Towards a Spatial Politics of Affect.” Geografiska Annaler: Series B, Human Geography 86, No. 1 (2004): pp. 57–78. Tilley, Christopher. A Phenomenology of Landscape: Places, Paths, and Monuments.Vol. 10 (Oxford: Berg, 1994). Trovalla, Ulrika Andersson. Medicine for Uncertain Futures: A Nigerian City in the Wake of a Crisis (Uppsala: Uppsala Universitet, 2011). Vinson, Laura Thaut. Religion,Violence, and Local Power-Sharing in Nigeria (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017).

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14 THE EPHEMERAL CITY Indonesian piety on the move James Edmonds

Fifteen to 20 times a month for the last 20 years, tens of thousands of people have converged in the cities, towns, villages, rice fields, and stadiums of Asia and the Middle East to soak in the performance of Islamic devotional prayers (selawat) led by Habib Syech bin Abdul Qadir Assegaf. These events have traveled across Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, Hong Kong, South Korea,Taiwan, and parts of the Middle East, forming ephemeral cities with durable and tangible impacts to the global Islamic landscape.The events bring Muslims from previously contentious backgrounds, politicians, and religious leaders together as they seek “blessings,”“peace,”“piety,” “a calm heart,” and power. Street vendors sell food, perfume, Fanclub gear (Syekhermania), glow sticks, and a cacophony of other products.The stage at the center of the event acts as a beacon around which the temporary city of selawat swirls.These sensory performances of Islamic piety explode into both urban and rural spaces using, reconfiguring, and being reconfigured by both urban and rural elements. Unlike much of the literature concerning the making of cities by religious architecture, practice, negotiation, and vice versa, these events are not stable.1 They are ephemeral impositions into rural and urban space, transcending and creating new boundaries between diverse populations, political powers, and Islamic sensibilities. These cities are not the creation of the Chicago or LA School of Urban Design.The routes, trajectories, or sidewalks of these cities cannot be mapped because they change every night according to the environment. These cities descend on spaces that already have relationships with bodies, politics, histories, and the dead. Speakers often nestle betwixt and between trees vibrating with the thunderous sound of Habib Syech and his musicians.The stage is a different size and shape, depending on the location. The density of these cities and their ephemerality make them very difficult to govern.The rapidity at which the cities circulate also places them firmly in the flows of global capital, politics, and global Islam. However, the uniqueness and particularity of the local event are what drive the continual creation of these ephemeral cities. I take Edward’s Soja’s “radical challenge to think differently, to expand your geographical imagination beyond its current limits” while not pouring “old wine into new barrels” seriously in grappling with these formations as ephemeral cities that challenge paradigmatic knowledge of space, the city, and urban environments.2 At the center of this paper is a reflection on how conceiving of my field sites as cities is productive in challenging the assumed object of study for much of the field of religion and the city: urban space.Why is urban space the object of analysis for looking at the relationship between religion and the city? I would rather argue that a city 198

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and its relationship with religion is not marked merely by long-standing architectural elements that stand as in the landscape. A city is located, in my work, in the space of the contemporary: “The contemporary is a moving ratio of modernity, moving through the recent past and near future in a (nonlinear) space that gauges modernity as an ethos already becoming historical.”3 The village in the forests of Indonesia and the metropolis of Jakarta are both a part of the contemporary and impacted by the ratio between tradition and modernity, always already becoming historical.The durable elements of the city surrounding the stage of selawat are not ahistorical, but they are also not static.They are always moving and adapting, even as tradition plays a part in this moving ration of the contemporary.Within this space of the contemporary, these events are, furthermore, not simply an example of multiple modernities. I follow Foucault and others in envisioning modernity as an ethos within the space of the contemporary. These cities are not one singular example of an alternative to Western urban spaces. They are firmly located and engaged with this similar ethos, which seeks to separate, order, and universalize the world. Therefore, selawat is entangled in the same ethos of other phenomena, cities, and contemporary life. Approaching selawat as an ephemeral city in the space of the contemporary allows for alternative visions of the interplay between the city and religion. Rabinow argues that there are two particular archeological points in the intellectual history of urban planning that are significant in understanding how this ethos of the contemporary has acted on urban planning as a field and the city as an object of study. Technocosmopolitanism and middling modernism seek to not only regulate the institutions and spaces of the city but also attempt to erase difference in a vision of the modern metropolis that sees difference “as a point distributed on a statistical continuum.”4 Yet, I am not interested in showing how colonialism, globalization, and the modern state are further attempting to regulate and order differences and traditions in the pathways of the city in the name of progress. I am interested in the tactics of everyday people who challenge the prevailing notions of the city and religion.This chapter analyzes these ephemeral cities as places in which tradition and modernity interact to form new possibilities for understanding the city and religion.

Greeting the forest Habib Syech, other members of his entourage, and I got in his large van.This was my third trip to Indonesia to follow the city. I had already attended over 75 of these events and had become a part of the entourage. Habib Syech has millions of followers across the world. He was born in Indonesia in 1961 to a Javanese mother and a Hadhrami father. He was previously a merchant in Mecca and preached around the island of Java until 1998 when he began performing selawat. From 1998 until the present, Habib Syech has traveled the world performing selawat to millions of people. His popularity has exponentially grown over the last 20 years, creating new flows of global capital, Islamic authority, and ways of being Muslim. However, during my fieldwork, I developed a relationship with him and selawat that facilitate my presence at these mobile celebrations of music, devotion, and leisure. He informed me that it would take five or six hours to drive to the event. Joking with the driver, I asked if he was ready. He said, as he usually did, “O, I am always ready, Jimi.” Habib Syech always sat in the front passenger seat. Over the five years that I spent traveling with him, I never saw him sleep. I asked others about this, and they also indicated that he never slept.When I asked him, he said that he even paid for business on a flight to Hong Kong, but he was still not able to sleep. I usually sat right behind him to interview him about a wide variety of topics. On this trip, I wanted to push him on how and who pays for selawat in order to understand how the multiplicity of participants, performers, and material elements temporarily manifest. 199

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Me: How long have you been with Davin Sound? Habib Syech: I have been with them for ten years or more. Before them, there was another sound system from Kudus. However, they did not improve their sound system. The owner bought a new house, and we would have continued to use the company from kudus, but kudus did not want to continue. Me: Why? The money was good. H.S.: Well, he got money and bought a house and other things. Davin is already capable and able.The money is a lot, but the responsibility is great. He buys new microphones, or if there is something that is broken then he buys a new one. I do not have to use Davin. If someone is better than Davin, then I will choose them. If there is not someone better, than ya, I of course use Davin. For me, I use Davin because he already knows me, and I know him. He is always helpful. Because of the sound system, stage, and other things having to do with selawat, there are a few hundred people who get work.They get money from this work. However, the money comes from Davin.The person who has a stage makes money because people rent the stage.The person who rents it has a job.The person for the person who has the stage also gets a salary. So, all the people involved, hundreds, get money. Me: Now, the other night I saw many people with cameras who were not a part of Davin’s sound crew. H.S.: Those are not our cameras.Those are the cameras of other people who make videos of the events.We have sound system and video together.The other people with cameras are making videos to sell. Me: Do you also have videos that you sell? H.S.: No, I used to make and sell videos, but now I let other people make videos. Davin’s sound system team are not the only people who make money off of the events.When you arrive at any event, whether it is in a rice field or stadium, people are renting out the space in front of their homes for parking, as there is typically never enough parking for 30,000 people. The roads leading to the events and surrounding the events are surrounded by merchants selling food, drinks, hermit crabs, CDs, DVDs, perfume, and a wide variety of other things.These merchants follow the events across Indonesia, often never seeing their families for months at a time. After four hours of trying to ask as many questions as I could come up with, we were met by several police vehicles that would escort us to the final destination.There is excitement in the air as we swing open the side of the van and, in a rolling stop, someone jumps in to help guide us.We follow the police cars, but the person directing us to where we are going seems to have a different opinion of the correct route.The police escort, however, was moving us through traffic at a healthy pace.We traveled another 30 minutes with a police escort through roads flanked by thick jungle.We slowed down and turned left onto a dark road.At this point, we had a long line of motorbikes, buses, cars, and dump trucks following us, waving flags. We were immediately met by another car, but the road was not wide enough to allow more than one car at a time.The police car sat with its flashing lights at the front as the motorbikes surrounded our van.There was nowhere to go. A man ran out of his house with some boards to help widen the road.The road was flanked on both sides by ditches, but the man seemed confident that the boards would assist in enabling the cars to pass one another. The roads and other infrastructure that surrounds the events are often insufficient to facilitate the movement of tens of thousands.This was not the only time that a road had to be widened.

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In more urban environments, roads for one to three miles turn into parking lots. People leave their cars in the road and walk to the events. In more rural locations, those planning the events often have to buy or rent land for the year because the farmers cannot use the land after the event. Rice fields become mud pits and irrigation canals collapse under all of the foot traffic. The driver slowly navigated the planks on the side of the road as the police car sped ahead to clear the road.We quickly ascended the hills on the way to the event.The road had large potholes, and I watched as the motorbikes slowed down and wove all over the road behind the van. Tropical trees hung low over the road, but I began to see additional police lights.We emerged into a large rice field.The stage was set up in the middle of the road. Cars could not pass around the stage from either side, and a massive crowd stood up to greet the van. We exited the van. Police officers, as well as members of the Islamic militia, Banser, and Habib Syech’s Fanclub, Syekhermania, formed a barrier on either side of a walkway formed by wood and cardboard. The mud was enveloping the cardboard. I attempted to walk toward the stage, but my shoes became stuck and hidden in the mud. One of my friends, who was a member of Syekhermania, saw what was happening and grabbed me to help. We both laughed as several other people jumped in and picked me up out of the mud. I was now shoeless for the rest of the event.We stopped at the house of the individual hosting the event.The house was connected to an Islamic boarding school. Fruit and snacks sat out in the open air of the house. I sat down pushing away mosquitos and gnats.Ants, gnats, and other bugs ran across the food. In order to provide snacks, food, and drinks for the city that formed in this rice field, the food had to come from farther away. Habib Syech visited with the man who owned the house and paid for the event.This was a very short visit as it was already around 8:00 p.m. People had begun showing up at three in the afternoon.There were no temporary toilets anywhere; so, if you needed to go to the bathroom, then you used the woods.This was a common occurrence at the events. In some places, people would rent out their bathrooms for people to use. However, there were never enough bathrooms.A police officer once pointed at a bush and told me it was fine to use the bush. He laughed as I said,“yes, but everyone can see.” After meeting with the organizers of the event, I walked barefoot to the stage and took my place with the musicians on a lower stage facing the main stage. The crowd sat on top of boards placed in the rice field. The crowd extended in the same way that the rice fields were staggered. Fences in-between the different levels of the rice fields kept people from pushing forward, but the moment that Habib Syech walked onto the stage, the crowd exploded. People pushed through the fencing; they snapped any wooden infrastructure made to contain them. Habib Syech implored them to sit.The lights from the stage danced around the field, illuminating the flags and the people who moved in the field, waving their arms. Banser and the police tried to keep the crowd contained, but they were not able to get into the crowd because it was packed so tightly.This became even more dangerous as the individual religious teacher who had invited Habib Syech went into an excited and ecstatic state. He ran around the stage and yelled at the crowd to sing with Habib Syech. It was unusual to have someone running around the stage. Habib Syech laughed. This made the crowd even more challenging to control as police and other security officials attempted to regain control.The bass from the drums reverberated through the crowds, extending into the attentive forest.You could see the leaves of the trees shaking to the sound of the speakers nestled near the forest. I was nervous because the ecstatic religious leader now descended from the stage and was breaking down the barriers intended to keep the crowds from pushing forward.The stage that I was on was only a few feet off the ground, and we were now surrounded by people. One of the musicians leaned over and said,

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“Jimi, keep your belongings close or they might be stolen.”The musicians pushed me into the center of the stage and away from the sides. The stage that Habib Syech was on with 25 or 30 people was shaking.The crowd was standing.The man who was running around on stage and in the crowd was up front screaming and throwing his arms in the air. He seemed to be experience bliss and peace at the same time. Habib Syech began throwing fruit and water into the crowd.The man experiencing ecstasy grabbed a water bottle, ripped it open, and sprayed it over the crowd.This water and fruit were understood to be blessed, containing baraka. Many came seeking baraka, a blessing. As the water glimmered in the air above the crowd, the stage began to sway with the movement of the bodies around it. I was nervous, but there was nowhere to go.The crowd was not under control. Habib Syech eventually gave up telling people to sit down or stop waving their flags because others could not see.The city had become chaos, right on the brink of destroying the structures at its very center. In this chaos, however, I looked around to see smiling, ecstatic faces. People continually told me that these events brought their heart peace, even when surrounded by thousands of people. The last song of most events in Indonesia was the National Anthem, but the second to last or last song at all these events was Ya Nabi Salam ‘Alaika (O Prophet Peace Be Upon You).The order of the songs of selawat and their place during the events is not set; however, Habib Syech would always play a popular song Ya Hanana (Ya our Bliss) toward the middle of his events and conclude with Ya Nabi Salam ‘Alaika at the end of the night. It is in this moment that one woman recounted to me that she felt the embrace of Prophet Muhammad, squeezing her worries away. For many present, the veil is lifted between this world and the next, marking this city as an experience of heaven on earth. The city does not disappear at the conclusion of Habib Syech’s performance. The chaos, trash, and stage must be taken care of after the events. As part of these events, Islamic boarding school students and members of Syekhermania are charged with cleaning up the city.The amount of trash is astounding. Glow sticks, water bottles, confetti, plastic matts for sitting on, smartphones, food wrappers, diapers, and other trash are left behind. Indonesia is not known for having trashcans readily available, but, following every event, members of the crowd clean up the city. Every scrap of trash is collected and sent off to a landfill site or burned. It takes two hours or less for the sound crew to disassemble the stage/stages and pack their trucks. There are marks of the bodies that inhabited the space, but the city is gone. The space has returned to whatever it was before.The fields return to fields marked by a soccer goal.The stadiums are ready for their next event. This city scene is not unusual.This city is reconfigured every night. Sanitation, health, commerce, and infrastructure are negotiated, overrun, and possessed by the thousands of bodies that arrive.Vendors flanked the huge crowd and made a place for this performance, usurping the infrastructure in place. Mud took my shoes, and fences were no match for the bodies of participants.The participants were, furthermore, not simply members of the local community. Many had traveled for up to 14 hours to reach this city. However, many spent extra time trying to find the site as they only had an area, no address.They had to depend on following the crowds, lights, and sounds to find the event.This mobile city usurps the place in which it is built, and yet the ground upon which it is built threatens to suck in the event. The challenges for urban events are different. Blockades are built around the city to reformulate roads, and traffic becomes completely still for hours on end as people spill from the location of the events into the road, seeking the pilgrimage city.The boundaries between socio-economic, Islamic, and political backgrounds converge in a way that challenges an understanding of Indonesian Islamic piety restricted to particular Islamic groups (NU and Muhammadiyah) or places (urban and rural).These particular urban/rural cities, however, have only appeared in the last 20 years. 202

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Building the city This phenomenon did not always begin as a massive city. It began in the mosques and houses of Indonesian Muslims across Central Java. In these initial iterations of the city, Habib Syech remained at the center. He was the core around which these events circulated. However, he was also shut out of many mosques in Java because “the Javanese were not interested in hearing Arab sermons.” Habib Syech is Hadhrami. His mother is from Java, and his father is from the Hadramout. When Habib Syech’s father passed away, he was in Mecca, acting as a merchant. From a very early age, he was accustomed to traveling around the world. He returned after his father died. He began traveling to mosques to recite the Quran and give sermons in 1997 and 1998. However, he had the door shut in his face more than once. His uncle then suggested that, rather than preach, he should perform selawat. His popularity developed slowly. He recalls initially performing for one or two people. These types of performances by individuals other than Habib Syech take place throughout Indonesia. Groups of musicians play drums and tambourines singing songs about the Prophet Muhammad, the afterlife, and the greatness of Allah. The performance of selawat has a long history in Indonesia and an established structure.These usually revolved around a life event, such as the launching of a business, wedding, or a meeting to discuss the Quran or other Islamic knowledge, pengajian. Islamic boarding school students, santri, often learn to play selawat for Mawlid al-Nabi al-Sharif, the commemoration of the birthday of Prophet Muhammad.The performance of selawat by Habib Syech is not in and of itself sufficient for the formation of the city. However, the city forms out of this phenomenon, which has a robust tradition in Indonesia.The roots of this city are not primarily in the circulation of goods.The Islamic tradition of selawat forms the foundation of this evolving and ephemeral city. In terms of when this performance of selawat moves or develops from a phenomenon that fits into the long-standing tradition of pengajians is difficult to determine. No one moment defines the formation of this city. Different iterations of the city blend with the traditional structure of selawat. However, from multiple interviews with hundreds of people over a five-year period of time, the years 2007–2009 marked a few important changes. In 2007, Habib Syech hired a driver. This driver continues to drive for him today. There is no fixed salary for the driver, but Habib Syech takes care of all of the driver’s needs. Habib Syech recently sent him to Mecca for Umrah, a pilgrimage to Mecca not during the pilgrimage month. It was also in this period (2007–2009) that the Central Javanese government purchased a bus to help facilitate the movement of Habib Syech’s musicians. He currently has three different groups of musicians in different towns across Central Java. However, in 2019, the bus fell into complete disrepair. It was also in this time period that Habib Syech’s Fanclub, Syekhermania, took shape. This was also the period of time that the sound/light/video recording company Davin Sound System entered the scene; it is still currently the sound system that Habib Syech usually uses.They are responsible for all of the sound, lights, and stage setup. Davin sets up the veins that give life to these cities.They have ten or more trucks that travel to each event to set up mere hours before the event. They carry their own massive generators to power all of the speakers, lights, and cameras. This mobile city requires an enormous amount of power and, oftentimes, there is no power source that can provide the energy they need. Davin also at times has to help power the lights that illuminate the merchant tables. The merchants can at times ask to power from a house, but houses are not always close by, and they must pay for electricity upfront to the person who has the house, as there is always a concern that the merchants will not pay for what they use. Besides power, the prior system that is necessary for ensuring the formation of these cities is transportation.The importance of this feature of the city cannot be understated as GPS did not 203

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work in Indonesia in 2007. Even when I first attended the events in 2015, GPS was not accurate or all that helpful. So, the drivers within the transportation system must also be the same, because it is only through their knowledge and relationship to other participants that the events come together. For example, one night, while I was traveling in the bus with the musicians, we got lost looking for the events.The 25 musicians in the bus then texted and called various other people including the sound crew, organizers of the events, and friends to try and find the event. Eventually, we were instructed to meet someone at the center of a nearby town who could then direct the bus driver. Habib Syech is always escorted by a police car, but the police car is almost always directed by a member of the local community who can tell him where to go. Although these cities often amass tens of thousands, they are not easy to find.The first element in the formation of these cities is not simply transportation, but transportation by individuals who know other members of the city.Although these cities do not often form in the same place twice, the cities often possess certain urban and rural settings through Indonesia, and the more connected the drivers, transportation, and members of the city are to the members of those urban and rural spaces that the city will temporarily possess, the easier the building of the nightly city becomes. The circulation of this city also makes transportation itself a part of the city. I slept, ate, and lived on buses, planes, and by the side of the road. My body was constantly moving with the other bodies as we were never still. Stillness, furthermore, was often marked by a restaurant or roadside stand that the musicians or Habib Syech liked. If I slept in a bed, it was often in someone’s home in a room packed with bodies sharing one bathroom. The musicians even had a saying, “eat, sleep, selawat.” Eating and sleeping took place during transportation, while the city came together for a few hours at night before dissipating and moving. This is circulation par excellence. Everything must move every night, often across nation-state boundaries. For example, I flew with Habib Syech and his entourage to Malaysia for one night and then returned the next day to a different city where the city would be formed again. This raises the question of governance that is at the heart of Foucault’s Security,Territory, and Population and Rabinow’s technocosmopolitanism and middling modernism. Ensuring the circulation of goods, people, and ideas is not the central problem of this city. Circulating is at the very heart of what makes this city possible, and any governance of that circulation would potentially destroy the city. Circulation is a given in this city, and activities such as building the city become pious action coordinated through Syekhermania. Driving a bus, picking up trash after an event, building the stage, and creating the infrastructure for a city are not only mundane actions necessary for the performance of selawat.They are also actions devoted to trying to attain blessings from God. However, these blessings are not an Islamic equivalent to Weberian understandings of the Protestant work ethic. Pillars of Islamic celebration, material exchange, breakdowns in social norms, and impermanence characterize these cities.

Governing the city As we will see, this circulation creates an impossibility of policing or governing. Stealing is a very big issue at the events, and the only tactic that the city center, the stage, has, is to simply state that people come to steal, and everyone should be aware of their belongings.When fights break out or there is a medical emergency, the density of the city makes it nearly impossible for the police or Islamic militia to reach the fight/issue. A woman who passed out during one of the events had to be carried by members of the crowd to the edge of the crowd, but there was no way for an ambulance to enter even at the edge of the crowd. I am not certain what happened

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to the woman.This also indicates an important way in which these cities are changing religious practice.The governance and policing of these events is not done by the police.There are typically a few police officers, but, for example, even in Kalimantan, where the police sponsored one of these events and had military security in place, the Islamic militant Banser was present to help govern the events. Banser and its youth wing, Ansor, are double the size of the Indonesian National Armed Forces (TNI).5 They, furthermore, have individual branches in places like Taiwan. This transnational Islamic militia has played a significant role in recent Indonesian history, including the mass killings of communists in 1965–1966.These Islamic militias are associated with Nahdlatul Ulama, the largest independent Islamic organization in the world, known for their inclusion and support of local traditions in the practice of Islam.They police these events.Although members of Banser may deny it, I have seen some of them carrying guns at the larger events.They act as a human shield between the crowds and Habib Syech (at times, I have also had to ask Banser to help me move in the crowd as I have been overwhelmed by the crowd grabbing my belongings and my clothing). Policing becomes simultaneously a necessary component of these events and a pious activity. However, this is still not a feature of the development of a system of sovereignty that ensures the flow of commerce. In addition to Banser, associated with Nadhlatul Ulama, the FPI, Front Pembela Islam (Islamic Defenders Front), also help police the event. FPI is known in Indonesia for committing violence against Muslim minorities such as the Ahmadiyya and Shia. One of the most brutal acts of violence was the dragging and beating to death of Ahmadiyya Muslims in West Java.6 These individuals have a somewhat different interpretation of Islam than NU, although they overlap in their acceptance and support of Sufi forms of piety.They are Salafi in their rigid interpretation of the Quran while still supporting things like visiting the graves of famous Islamic figures.Those police officers who do assist at the events are often Muslims who have articulated to me that it is an honor to escort Habib Syech. One of the police officers even secured a custom license plate for Habib Syech. Policing, whether it is from Banser, Anser, FPI, or the police itself, becomes a pious activity that has no central sovereign.

Commercial beginnings One of the other central components of any city is commerce, and this is the other significant change in the 2007–2009 period. Syekhermania creates a market for the circulation of goods. Habib Syech already had a factory making sarongs and some other clothing, but after the creation of Syekhermania, Habib Syech creates Fanclub gear, including jackets, shirts, scarves, Islamic skull caps, and recordings of his music.This may at first appear to be a purely financial move, but, as indicated in the above example, many people benefit from this. Habib Syech does not hold a copyright on the Syekhermania logo. Many people will make them for their local communities. He does not force anyone to purchase his logo. He also does not make recordings of himself anymore as others already do, which provides resources to those who produce the recordings.As the city develops, Habib Syech does not seek to control the flow of commerce, but rather hopes the circulation of commerce will continue through the multiple merchants and members of his Fanclub without expecting any financial benefit. In addition to the Fanclub gear, Habib Syech has recently created his own brand of water, Syekher Water. In order to buy this water, you have to go to an agent, a member of the Syekhermania Fanclub, who has their own Syekher Water shop. Habib Syech does not rely on established networks of circulation. He does not, for example, sell his water in the Indomarets

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or Circle Ks of Indonesia or elsewhere. He relies on the rapidly circulating city to ensure the circulation of his water to urban and rural communities. Motorbikes stacked with five cases of water wobble through the streets and highways of Java in order to reach their distant destinations.The city ensures the circulation of its goods to other cities through a network that only exists because of this city. You cannot buy this water online. You have to use the established networks of Syekhermania to buy the water.This mixes commerce and piety for both spiritual and monetary benefit.

Transnational identity Habib Syech created Syekhermania with several individuals who followed him from 1998. This Fanclub was made, partially, as a response to the many different groups who claimed to be the Fanclub of Habib Syech.There were only a few things that defined this group: 1) a love of selawat of Habib Syech; 2) a love of the Prophet Muhammad; 3) a complete aversion to any stance on politics. Syekhermania and the events of selawat are purposefully anti-political. Even as governors, heads of state, and local politicians sit on the stage with Habib Syech, Habib Syech is careful to indicate that he does not support or condone any political party/person. For example, at one of the events, a local politician tried to show up without his opponent who was running for election in that village. Habib Syech requested that if one of them was going to come to the event, then both should be present.This self-conscious rejection of party politics separates selawat from conceiving of this city as an embodiment of political Islam.To clarify, this city does not propose political identity and action based on Islamic principles or nationalism as its defining feature.This ephemeral city has opened up the possibility of the gathering of contradictory politics, religious sensibilities, and ethnic/national identities. This city is built on multiple continents in different nation-states. This city is not simply a multi-cultural and multi-religious city that exists in Indonesia. It appears in Hong Kong every two years, Malaysia twice a year,Taiwan once a year, and other countries depending on the availability of his schedule. How, then, do those attending understand this city connected to notions of nation-state and Indonesian identity? In places such as Hong Kong and Taiwan, the primary attendees are Indonesian maids and factory workers. However, in the Hadramout, Egypt, and Thailand, many of those building and converging on these cities are local people. An erasure of difference is not at the heart of this city nor the huge diversity of participants able to be annotated as points on a spectrum. New populations of people from a diversity of backgrounds inhabit these cities, which take on new types of identities according to their location.

Toward a reorientation of religion and the city How, then, do these ephemeral cities allow for a “geographical imagination beyond its current limits?” In conceiving of the coagulations of selawat performed by Habib Syech as cities with multiple physical locations, the city is not tied to an individual geographical location.The architectural mainstay of this city is the stage, but the stage and layout of the event is never replicated in each iteration of the city. I could have, furthermore, analyzed this phenomenon as a festival, concert, or ritual practice, and selawat resonates with each of these categories.Yet there is a durability and a stability to these events that make them possible.This durability includes the establishment of temporary infrastructure that reconfigures and is reconfigured by the spaces that they possess. Small roads become highways and parking lots.These roads, however, are also often not sufficient for handling the crowds.Wooden planks and creative driving allow for this infrastructure to become usable. Generators produce electricity for the stage while merchants 206

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tap into the local electric system to bring this city to life.These cities carry their own economic systems with them through traveling merchants and Syekhermania.The police and Islamic militias attempt to govern these cities by mixing devotion and governance. The development of infrastructure, governance, and economic exchange of this ephemeral city is layered onto the places that they inhabit.The city of selawat merges with the village, city, or urban metropolis to form a brackish melding of the stationary place and mobile city.The components of each city operate together to form the temporary appearance of selawat’s city.The geographical possibilities are these layered cities that not only reveal what is necessary for building new cities, but also the interplay of multiple cities in the same space. This melding of cities, however, is not only for the experience of collective experience, music, leisure, or pleasure. Participants travel to these cities as sites of pilgrimage seeking baraka, blessings. As I have argued elsewhere, participants want to be present at these events to attain baraka that I have defined as “the infinite possible manifestation of gifts, not dependent on reciprocation, from God in both the visible and invisible world impacting the spiritual, economic, and social lives of people.”7 They are seeking gifts from God that are never guaranteed in their participation in building, governing, and exchanging within the city. This generates the act of building, governing, and exchanging within the city as pious activities connected to receiving baraka.This does not excise the mundaneness of setting up a stage or a stall for selling merchandise, but making this city is a religious act mixed with the everyday creation of cities that are not confined to urban space. The result of this brackish city that blends piety and the everyday in order to create the possibility of experiencing selawat and baraka by millions of Muslims and non-Muslims across the world does not result in bracketing difference or regulation of institutions. Local merchants can sell their products in the say way that traveling merchants are allowed to sell their products. Muslims from contentious Islamic sensibilities mix in the city that does not allow for regulation or institutional solidifications. Non-Muslims arrive to participate in this city as well as religious and governmental leaders from local and national governments. The crowd does not separate into factions or neighborhoods that one might see in modern cities.This city, furthermore, does not create a transnational identity interested in participating in nation-state politics. The possibility of temporary manifestation of this layered city is made possible through seeking a host of gifts that blend the everyday and piety that, in turn, remake building, governing, and exchange within the city as pious acts. These layered cities furthermore challenge a vision of the city as confined to urban or cosmopolitan space. These enchanted geographies merge in rice fields, stadiums, roads, and metropolises, expanding a geographical imagination beyond the spires of churches, domes of mosques, and pathways of a city.The city of selawat reveals the need for further imagination regarding the definition of a city as a space in which contemporary life brings in elements of the traditional and modern city.The ephemeral city, however, does not reflect a singularly unique phenomenon. Rather, this city reveals the way in which religious communities are subversively engaging with an ethos of modernity that seeks to categorize, differentiate, and institutionalize life and create mobile, pious cities that both engage with this ethos and create new organizational and religious potentials. This ephemeral city furthermore suggests that the physical creation and maintenance of a city could be the expression of piety in itself. Selawat does not continue without its ephemeral city, and the appearance of this city is also the appearance of piety that is not confined to traditional models of Islamic piety in the spaces of mosques and other Islamic gatherings. Building, governing, and ensuring the circulation of economic goods in the city is a manifestation of citycreating-piety that not only reframes the city but expands the potentials for attaining baraka and acting as a Muslim in the modern world. 207

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Notes 1 Katie Day, “Urban Space and Religion in the United States” (Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Religion, July 2017). Irene Becci, Marian Burchardt, Jose Casanova, Topographies of Faith Religion in Urban Spaces (Leiden: Brill, 2013). Lara Deeb and Mona Harb, Leisurely Islam: Negotiating Geography and Morality in Shi‘ite South Beirut (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013). 2 Edward W. Soja, Thirdspace: Journeys to Los Angeles and Other Real-and-imagined Places (Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1996), p. 2. 3 Paul Rabinow, George E. Marcus, James D. Faubion, Tobias Rees, Designs for the Anthropology of the Contemporary (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2008), p. 2. 4 Paul Rabinow,“France in Morocco:Technocosmopolitanism and Middling Modernism” (Assemblage 17 [1992]): p. 56. 5 Darul Amri Lobubun, “Segini Jumlah Pasukan Banser di Indonesia Saat Ini, Lebih Banyak dari TNI” (Tribun Makassar. September 9, 2017. Accessed 2 November 2019. https://makassar.tribunnews.com/ 2017/09/09/segini-jumlah-pasukan-banser-di-indonesia-saat-ini-lebih-banyak-dari-tni. 6 “Kronologi Penyerangan Jamaah Ahmadiyah di Cikeusik,” Tempo, February 6, 2011. Accessed November 13, 2019. https://nasional.tempo.co/read/311441/kronologi-penyerangan-jamaah-ahm adiyah-di-cikeusik. 7 James M. Edmonds, “Smelling Baraka: Everyday Islam and Islamic Normativity,” American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences. 36(3) (2019).

Bibliography Becci, Irene, Marian Burchardt and Jose Casanova. Topographies of Faith Religion in Urban Spaces (Leiden: Brill, 2013). Day, Katie.“Urban Space and Religion in the United States.” Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Religion. July 2017. Deeb, Lara and Mona Harb. Leisurely Islam: Negotiating Geography and Morality in Shi’ite South Beirut (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013). Edmonds, James M. “Smelling Baraka: Everyday Islam and Islamic Normativity.” American Journal of Islam and Society. 36, No. 3 (2019): 21–48. “Kronologi Penyerangan Jamaah Ahmadiyah di Cikeusik.” Tempo. February 6, 2011. Accessed November 13, 2019. https://nasional.tempo.co/read/311441/kronologi-penyerangan-jamaah-ahmadiyah-dicikeusik. Lobubun, Darul Amri. “Segini Jumlah Pasukan Banser di Indonesia Saat Ini, Lebih Banyak dari TNI.” Tribun Makassar. September 9, 2017. Accessed November 2, 2019. https://makassar.tribunnews.com/ 2017/09/09/segini-jumlah-pasukan-banser-di-indonesia-saat-ini-lebih-banyak-dari-tni. Rabinow, Paul. “France in Morocco: Technocosmopolitanism and Middling Modernism.” Assemblage 17 (1992): 52–57. Rabinow, Paul, George E. Marcus, James D. Faubion, and Tobias Rees. Designs for the Anthropology of the Contemporary (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2008). Soja, Edward W. Thirdspace: Journeys to Los Angeles and Other Real-and-imagined Places (Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1996).

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15 RELIGIOUS SPACE IN PUBLIC ART The New Negro and the New Deal in Harlem Michael McLaughlin

Introduction In 1934, in the depths of the Great Depression, Aaron Douglas, a muralist living and working in Harlem, landed a government contract to paint a series of public murals for the 135th Street Branch of the New York Public Library.1 Titling the resulting series Aspects of Negro Life, Douglas told a story of how the forces of modernity transformed black Americans into a new subjectivity, and how black people’s movement into new spaces subsequently transformed those spaces. This confluence is most apparent in his final panel where he depicts a black man standing on a giant, industrial cog, with his arms raised and a saxophone clutched in one hand.This central figure stands delicately balanced in the act of crossing from the darkness and death of the rural South into the light and life of the industrial, northern city. The saxophone player looks elatedly forward to where the Statue of Liberty stands, framed by a towering wall of skyscrapers, and the defining symbol of industrial progress: belching smokestacks. The painting is overlaid by Douglas’s signature aesthetic: concentric circles, which in this case emanate from and draw the viewer’s attention to the juxtaposition of the black man’s saxophone and the Statue of Liberty. Douglas invites the viewer to contemplate this juxtaposition: what spaces are created and illuminated by the interactions of black artistic traditions and federal social policies? How is this confluence made possible by the technological, philosophical, and aesthetic innovations of modernity and its embrace of the new as a means to systematically comprehend all times and spaces? How, in turn, are the legacies of state social programs and black religious heritage intertwined? This chapter takes up these questions raised by Douglas, and considers how federally sponsored public art produced by black artists of Depression-Era New York imbues Harlem with religious significance. It does so by considering the history of one particular public mural series, Vertis Hayes’s Pursuit of Happiness (1937), painted in conversation with the imagery and ideals of Douglas’s Aspects of Negro Life. Like Douglas’s work, Hayes’s Pursuit of Happiness also presents an exodus narrative and suggests that African religious traditions live on in the lives of modern black Americans. More importantly, Pursuit of Happiness shows how public art shapes the ways in which people narrate their daily experiences. Drawing on Michel de Certeau’s work, I argue the mural series transforms the urban space of Harlem into a place suffused with religious narratives by impacting how Harlem residents navigate their local space.Through altering the ways 209

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in which passersby experience Harlem, the mural becomes a companion to those who see their own life story reflected in its panels, and provides accompaniment along the often “bitter and confusing journey” that is black life in Harlem.2 As a religious object emphasizing narrative, historical transformation, and migration, Pursuit of Happiness suggests a dynamic location for Harlem within the religious cosmos of public art created by black artists. The spatial transformations wrought by Pursuit of Happiness occur at the convergence of two major streams in early twentieth-century American society: the New Deal, which sought to preserve an American heritage threatened by the fallout from the Great Depression, and the New Negro movement (also known as the Harlem Renaissance),3 which looked to the future as a way to (re)create an authentic black heritage. I examine these two movements before turning to an analysis of how they contributed to the production of public murals by black artists in Harlem. I then briefly consider Aaron Douglas’s four-part mural series Aspects of Negro Life (1934) as an exemplary work produced by this confluence, before turning to Hayes’s Pursuit of Happiness, which responds directly to Douglas’s mural series, and, through its eventual incorporation into the renovated facade of the Harlem Hospital, itself embodies the narrative of Douglas’s series. I conclude by examining the religious qualities of Pursuit of Happiness and ultimately argue that this work of art demonstrates that religion in Harlem is located in a fluid, unbounded space.

The New Deal: Locating “the people” within the national cosmos The massive array of state programs which constituted the Roosevelt administration’s New Deal utilized modern thought, planning, and technology as tools to strengthen the United States governmentally and economically.4 Although Roosevelt’s initiatives for national recovery were largely about putting the country back to work, threaded throughout his recovery efforts were programs which sought to build a sense of national pride and belonging. The New Deal did not seek to construct a brave new world, but rather to renovate America by building modern infrastructures to connect citizens to the spiritual heart of the country, and help them properly re-imagine their personal place within the larger American cosmos. One of the most significant ways in which the New Deal molded citizens’ visions of American spaces was through state sponsorship of art projects. New Deal art programs sought to transform public spaces into displays of art that reminded people of the value of America and the significance of their own role within the national cosmos. For example, several New Deal programs hired professional artists to adorn the interiors of post offices around the country. The resulting murals often depicted scenes from local history: white people “discovering” the local area, farmers harvesting local agricultural products, or a horseback rider bringing the mail. Because of these post office murals, mailing a package no longer meant merely visiting a public building and paying for a government service, but became an act of entering into a scene of local history and participating in a national narrative held together by the federal government. The largest of the New Deal art programs was the Federal Art Project, a program within the larger Works Progress Administration. Holger Cahill, the director of the Federal Art Project (WPA/FAP), imagined the project would “extend the educational reach of art through local galleries and art centers and magnificent murals adorning public spaces.”5 Cahill envisioned the WPA/FAP as a two-way process: bringing the people to art, and art to the people. By increasing the people’s familiarity with art, the WPA/FAP saw itself fostering better citizens who were aware of artistic processes, and, more importantly, were influenced by artworks that reflected the program’s vision of American citizenship: an industrious work ethic, an egalitarian attitude toward fellow citizens, and a romantic view of the American landscape.The WPA/FAP saw the 210

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rural regions of the country as the space of truest Americanism, and looked with profound suspicion upon art that seemed disconnected from everyday life (such as abstract art), often viewing such art as a tool of “fascism” and “communist agitators.”6 What the American people needed, argued the WPA/FAP, was a truly American art, one which resisted the trend toward fascist abstraction and instead reflected the realities of the authentic America.7 Through New Deal art programs, the federal government sought to embellish public spaces with art that would instill in “the people” the values of proper citizenship and a correct understanding of the individual’s place within American society.

The New Negro movement: Placing black Americans in a black history The New Negro movement was a period of social, cultural, and artistic innovation within black America in the decades after World War I. During this time, millions of black Americans moved from the rural South to northern cities such as New York as part of the Great Migration. As they did so, they generated new ways of narrating black identity. New Negro artists embraced modernism as a way to celebrate the history and heritage of people of African descent while remaining optimistically focused upon the future of black people in the United States.Working in the modern, cosmopolitan city, New Negro artists argued the true beginnings of black heritage went back further than the American South, and that the spiritual narrative of black life began in Africa. This was, however, accompanied by a profound sense of cultural and spiritual loss. According to Melville Herskovits, the traits which made Harlem distinct from other cities were simply a “remnant from the peasant days in the South,” yet “of the African culture, not a trace” was to be found.8 Yet not all was lost. Although Alain Locke, the “father” of the New Negro movement wrote that the “objectives of [the New Negro’s] outer life are … none other than the ideals of American institutions and democracy,” he also declared that the goals of black America’s “inner life are yet in process of formation.”9 Artistically, as well as spiritually, Locke saw the New Negro movement as an opportunity to reclaim African heritage in a way which negated the oppression of white America. He asserted that “Art must discover and reveal the beauty which prejudice and caricature have overlaid.”To move forward, black Americans needed to reconnect with African art. Locke and his collaborators saw African art, not African American art, as the true artistic heritage of black Americans.They did not celebrate the “folk” artistic (or religious) heritage of the rural South, but sought to circumvent this imposed heritage by using modern modes of scientific analysis and artistic creativity to connect directly with the authentic,African sources of black life. By emerging out of the lowly South and standing proudly in the modern city, the New Negroes saw themselves opening new vistas for the black mind and spirit. Now black thinkers and artists could “scientifically” examine black history. Unlike white Americans who artistically depicted an already known history, New Negroes saw themselves as simultaneously discovering and creating a black American artistic heritage.10

The New Negro and the New Deal: A tensive synthesis These two visions of modern life in America; one hearkening to a future reconnection with the African past, the other looking for an immediate celebration of the American past; one seeing modernity as a mode of artistic freedom, the other seeing art as a tool for modern, statecraft, intersected in various artistic projects throughout the 1930s.Two particular works produced in this tensive synthesis, Aaron Douglas’s 1934 mural series Aspects of Negro Life and Vertis Hayes’s 1937 mural series Pursuit of Happiness, illuminate the resulting entanglement of religion and 211

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public art.These two mural series tell similar stories, and the history of Pursuit of Happiness as a work of public art itself reflects the aesthetics of Aspects of Negro Life. Despite the apparent secularity of these works, both tell profoundly religious stories, especially when considered in light of Josef Sorett’s recent scholarship on “racial aesthetics,” Sorett’s term for the “evolving effort to offer a compelling or persuasive philosophy (or theory) of black culture.”11 Sorett argues conversations regarding racial aesthetics are inextricable from religious discourses, and he illustrates how ostensibly secular black visionaries of the 1930s, such as Locke and Douglas, drew upon religious themes to articulate their visions for the significance of blackness.12 Furthermore, scholars such as Wallace Best and Judith Weisenfeld have shown how, during the 1930s, the forms and modalities of religion diversified tremendously within black communities in the urban North.13 Weisenfeld in particular has illustrated how within certain contexts during the era of the Great Migration, the line between religious and racial identity dissolved completely, transforming seemingly secular acts, such as marking one’s race on a draft form, into performances of one’s religious identity.14 Douglas’s and Hayes’s murals demonstrate how public art that addresses the significance of blackness also participates in the construction of religious spaces. In becoming dynamic conversation partners with inhabitants of Harlem, their murals help expand scholarly understandings of religion beyond white Protestant norms of religion as a system of meaning-making. I begin with Aaron Douglas’s four-part mural series Aspects of Negro Life, which places the New Negro as the product of an African spiritual lineage.15 In this series, Douglas celebrates his New Negro embrace of modern artistic techniques such as semi-abstraction, and conveys a sense of African aesthetics by painting the figures in his mural in the style of Egyptian wall paintings, and modeling his figures’ faces on African masks.Throughout the murals, Douglas uses concentric circles to draw the viewer’s attention to specific elements.These circles give a sonic and unbounded quality to his work, and suggest the source of energy driving the panel series, and, by implication, black American life itself. In the first panel, circles of light emanate from an African traditional religious statue, which pulsates a spiritual rhythm into the dance of the central figures. One diagonal beam of light crosses this panel and directs its spiritual energy into the following panel, where the Emancipation Proclamation and a ballot illuminate the scene. The third mural shows this energy emanating from a group of musicians and dancers, mirroring the image from the first panel.This panel also includes a diagonal beam of light, which in this case emerges from the North Star. This beam strikes the eye of a man kneeling beneath a lynching victim, orienting him along the path of the Great Migration. Following this beam of starlight into the next panel, the viewer sees that the light arises from the present era, and that a saxophone player provides the guiding light for the entire history.While the mural series offers an exodus narrative of the African spirit from the Deep South into to the Promised Land of the urban North, there is no clear Moses figure. Rather, the New Negro figure in the final panel is a Promethean figure, carrying the fire of African civilization into the urban North and illuminating the black past as he does.16 By drawing on Greek, Christian,African, and Egyptian symbolism in his panel, Douglas demonstrates how black religion for New Negroes was not necessarily bound to Christianity. In his fourth and final mural from Aspects of Negro Life, Douglas offers a cautious celebration of the flourishing of black life in urban America.This mural, Song of the Towers, reflects on the changes within black American life brought about by the Great Migration.A figure in the lower right of the mural is fleeing the deathly hands of the Jim Crow South and striving to reach the glowing city of skyscrapers and smokestacks that dynamically dominate the background of the mural. This figure is scrambling up a giant, industrial cog, on top of which stands another figure, the saxophone player who triumphantly raises his arms as he catches sight of the Statue 212

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of Liberty, framed in the distance between towering skyscrapers. The man’s saxophone seems to almost brush against Lady Liberty’s torch, and Douglas emphasized this conjunction of black artistic tradition and federal social policy by encircling it in concentric bands of yellow light.The modern black American figure sheds light on the past, allowing it to be seen and studied while also giving that heritage an orientation toward the future. By tracing this light to an African traditional religious statue, Douglas argues that black history is the story of black people bringing forth their African spiritual heritage to illuminate their lives. As such, the figures of black history take on a mythic and religious significance, since modern black Americans can see their work in the building of a black metropolis as a participation in this larger narrative.This theme of African religious heritage, illuminating and guiding modern black Americans, is central to the story of Vertis Hayes’s Pursuit of Happiness. In 1936 Hayes won a commission from the WPA/FAP to paint a series of murals at the Harlem Hospital.17 The resulting work, Pursuit of Happiness, is an eight-panel series which originally lined both sides of a hallway in the newly built nurses’ residence of the Harlem Hospital.18 The head of the Harlem Hospital initially rejected Hayes’s proposed design because it contained “too much Negro subject matter,” and he believed Harlem would not be majority-black in the near future.19 After the hospital coordinator sent Hayes his reasons for opposing the design, such as his belief that black people would not like seeing paintings of other black people, Hayes asked to meet with the coordinator and got his permission to record the meeting. Following the meeting, Hayes informed the coordinator that, unless he allowed the mural to be painted as Hayes wanted, Hayes would release the notes from the meeting to the New York Times.This threat, along with a letter-writing campaign and at least one newspaper article covering the issue resulted in the administrator relenting and Hayes painting Pursuit of Happiness with black figures. Still, Hayes felt the hallway where the mural was painted was “inadequate” and “cloistered,” as it was located within the nurses’ residence, away from the public eye.20 Like Douglas’s series, Hayes’s panels depict the history of black life from Africa, through the American South, to the industrial North. The series contains two African scenes, a scene of black life in the rural South, and a variety of scenes depicting contemporary 1930s urban black life. Like Aspects of Negro Life, this series is framed on one end by an African religious statue and on the other by a depiction of jazz. Here, Hayes makes this framing a bit more explicitly religious by including in the final panel a church scene next to the jazz musicians.The two panels featuring a church service and an African religious statue mark the hallway as a religious space and present black history as a conversation between Christianity and African traditional religions. As these two panels face each other across the hallway, they fill its space with a dialogue between two dimensions of black religious life.The minister in the church scene faces across the hallway toward the African religious statue, yet also peers down over his pulpit toward the people walking down the hallway, inviting them into a dialogue between the African religious statue on one side of the hallway and the church scene on the other.The minister does not so much preach a religious message to those in the hallway, but, rather, with an outstretched arm framed by a stained-glass window of Jesus the Good Shepherd, he serves more as a watchful companion to those in the hallway, blessing their daily work as a participation in a shared narrative of the black American pursuit of happiness. The central and most significant panel of Pursuit of Happiness stood at the head of the hallway. This panel, upon which both the hallway and the narrative of the series turned, depicts sharecroppers looking toward an industrial city. Four figures stand on the brink of a hill overlooking a skyline suggestive of Manhattan.Their backs are turned to a plow whose wheel has come off and lies useless on the ground. Their faces look to a futuristic skyline dominated by an enormous cog, a clear reference to Aaron Douglas’s Song of the Towers, painted three years earlier in 213

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the library across the street from the hospital. In this panel, the figures stand ready to join the Great Migration and leave their now-useless rural plow wheel for the industrial cog that awaits them. By placing this scene at the head of the hallway, Hayes centered black agency within black history.The important turning point in black American history for Hayes was not emancipation but the movement to urban centers, the moment when black Americans chose to set out to recreate themselves in new, modern manners. Nurses, many of whom were black, when walking this hallway would have had their eyes directed toward a depiction of a moment when ordinary black people like themselves took action to engage in the American pursuit of happiness.The fact that a panel depicting the Great Migration stood at the head of the hallway transformed the act of walking down its length into an entering of the stream of black history. One either traversed through black American history back to Africa, or moved along with the narrative and walked into the contemporary urban, black world. This movement into the modern world was made quite literal, since the figures in the Great Migration panel looked toward a panel depicting black people engaged in various modes of work: shining shoes, carrying packages, baking bread; and this panel was itself painted around an archway leading to the rest of the hospital.Walking through this archway meant walking into history.To walk this painted hallway was to participate in an exodus narrative framed by religious images that connected with the nurses walking by and entangled religion in the daily actions of the hospital staff.The hallway was not simply a conduit connecting one place to another, but became a place itself: a place where black people recalled their heritage on a daily basis, and a place where history became a series of maneuvers between religious images.

Public art, religious space After decades of unprotected exposure to the environment of the hospital, the Harlem Hospital murals entered the new millennium in a state of disrepair. In 2005, the Harlem Hospital began a multi-year process of expansion and renovation.21 Due to community insistence and a hospital director with a better eye for art, the murals were restored to their original condition and subsequently re-installed in a newly constructed patient pavilion. No longer visible only to staff hurrying about hospital duties, the murals are now enjoyed by staff, patients, and visitors. The mural pavilion has become a destination in itself, and a venue to house cultural events ranging from art exhibits to charity masquerade balls.22 Furthermore, thanks to an innovative design team and “so much private funding you can’t even imagine,”23 Vertis Hayes’s art continues to be enjoyed by the public today in ways inconceivable in the 1930s. During the restoration process, an architectural design team captured high-resolution photographs of Hayes’s murals and incorporated enlarged scenes from Pursuit of Happiness into the new glass facade of the building, a facade lit at night by interior lights that transformed the mural into a glowing beacon of black art.24 By creating “black people six stories high” the team quite literally enlarged the public impact of, and interaction with, Hayes’s original work.25 Furthermore, the act of transforming Hayes’s mural from part of the hospital’s interior decor to the illuminated face of the building is reflective of the New Negro theme of the African past shining light into the modern future. Like the light sources in Douglas’s Aspects of Negro Life, in which the energy of African traditional religion gets carried through the oppressions of the American South to re-emerge in modern jazz, Hayes’s Pursuit of Happiness journeyed through decades of continued neglect and racism to resurface as the public face of the hospital.Today, as the sun sets on Manhattan, the interior lights of the Harlem Hospital light up the facade-bearing scenes from Hayes’s murals, and illuminate the street outside with light shining from and through black American history. Just as New Negro artists like Douglas and 214

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Hayes drew on the light of the African past to guide their art, contemporary Harlemites walking Malcolm X Boulevard have their way lit by black luminaries of past generations. Like the murals of the original hallway design, where the religious significance was built by walking in conversation with figures of the black past, the significance of the Harlem Hospital murals extends beyond the walls of the hospital and reaches into the pathways which passersby take throughout their days. By transforming walls into images, these murals transmute the action of walking down the street into an act of participation within a larger history. Pedestrians’ movements from one place to another become intertwined with a historical narrative of exodus and urban black flourishing. As such, the murals generate a dialectic between the passersby on Malcolm X Boulevard and the narrative proposed by the murals. Regardless of the extent to which passersby consciously adopt (or reject) the narrative of the murals, the imposing murals are nevertheless hegemonic, and create a perturbation within the otherwise silent, stone-faced streets of Harlem in which people are invited to reflect on their heritage. As the facade of a public building, the potential meanings of the artwork are expanded as more people interact with it in a larger array of manners. People slow down to take selfies, they make it a stop on tours they give of Harlem, and even find it an inspiring place to create their own paintings.26 When Hurricane Sandy hit New York City, one Instagram user found the lit-up facade, “an oasis amidst all this destruction.”27 For others, the murals become significant because of their dynamicity. On April 16, 2017, Robert Garland shared an Instagram post of the mural noting that it “looks especially beautiful this morning... 🌼🌷🌻🌹💐🌸.”28 By ending his post with six flower emojis, Garland suggests that, like spring flowers, the Harlem Hospital murals can sometimes look “especially beautiful,” and are a natural and living feature of the Harlem landscape.Yet the fact that Garland posted this on Easter Sunday suggests, if he is Christian, that perhaps he saw something more deeply spiritual in the mural. Perhaps he saw the mural as a symbol of overcoming darkness, sin, and racism, and as a rising to new life. These social media posts demonstrate how the significance of the mural and its religious significance are not limited to the plane of the art itself but become enmeshed within the altered pedestrian and digital rhetorics of those walking by.29 The meaning gets carried and embodied by the thousands who walk by, and the story Hayes’s work tells gets enacted by those who see it. The artwork cannot simply be located at the Harlem Hospital Center, but rather exists in taxicabs asked to drive by the murals, in social media posts of the murals, and people who simply recognize the hospital facade as a distinctly different building.While the renovation project transformed the Harlem Hospital into a significant public work of art, it did so in a way such that its significance is not rigidly fixed within the hospital, but fluidly flows into the surrounding community as people on the street adjust their patterns and rhythms of walking in response to the towering presence of Hayes’s murals. Rather than serving as a canvas onto which visitors paint their expectations and experiences of the neighborhood, the Harlem Hospital murals project their narrative onto the passersby along the street, where the people walking by then continue the work of place-making. As they make deliveries, run errands, and visit friends, people passing the hospital encounter a facade which generates a distinct space and draws them into the narrative it projects.While allowing for greater interpretive space than the original hallway did, the hospital facade still invites people to see their lives reflected in its story of black flourishing. The fact that Hayes’s murals have been transformed from a hallway celebrating the arrival of black people into the urban metropolis and into the glowing facade of a central institution within that metropolis shows the lasting impact of WPA/FAP sponsored artworks.The WPA/ FAP sought to give American citizens a more secure understanding of their place within the American cosmos, a sense of place that tied local history and culture into the broader national identity.The inclusion within the facade of Hayes’s depiction of jazz music and a scene showing 215

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black people within various medical and scientific professions helped mark the Harlem Hospital as a black institution within a black metropolis, one which could offer distinctively black cultural and social products to the larger American nation. However, the designers of the renovated facade also included the Great Migration scene on one end of the facade, thereby historicizing Harlem as the product of black migration.The migrants stand on one side of the facade and the Harlemites on the other, with the cog between them.The cog draws the viewers’ eye from the migrants to the urban dwellers. In doing so it centers black agency, and simultaneously recognizes its constrained and conflicted existence. The mural may celebrate the movement toward a new home, but it also reminds the viewer that this is a movement between two incompletely free systems. Black people became the face of federal public art without a resultant transformation of the government’s racial politics. Unlike New Deal art that depicted various chapters in local history, the hospital exterior depicts black Americans as people whose history continuously moves between various locales. Pursuit of Happiness tells a story of people made homeless and placeless through the machinery of colonialism and democracy. By incorporating the theme of black migration, the murals suggest Harlem is somehow transitory too. The murals tell a story of motion, change, and adaptation. They reflect the history of forced and unchosen black migration. While they celebrate black people’s contribution to science and medicine, this is not shown as a teleological necessity, but simply one stage before another journey. On one hand this resonates with the ways in which the murals are now experienced by people outside.To see the murals in their fullness, one must stand along a sidewalk, a no-place between where one came and where one is headed. Pursuit of Happiness can only be fully experienced mid-journey. As a memorable marker along a daily walking commute, or a sight to behold while “strolling the avenue,” the new Harlem Hospital exterior can become a synecdoche for the whole of Harlem, a symbol which marks Harlem as a space of arrivals and departures, and a place of motion toward a better future.30 On the other hand, the note of transitoriness in Pursuit of Happiness reflects the precariousness of Harlem as a thriving center of black life. In 1948 Ralph Ellison penned an essay in which he declared “Harlem is nowhere.”According to Ellison, Harlem was a state of emotional discomfort, a sort of experiential displacement, an existential homelessness brought about by the reality that, as a black person, one has “no stable, recognized place in society … one wanders dazed in a ghetto maze, a ‘displaced person’ of American democracy.”31 Douglas captured this idea in his mural Song of the Towers in which he painted a saxophone player celebrating urban life, yet doing so from a distance. Douglas’s musician stands alone in the foreground, separated from the city despite the fact that he is incorporated into the scene through a giant industrial cog. Here, as is in the New Deal, the industrialization of America works to simultaneously incorporate and segregate black bodies.The renovated facade of the Harlem Hospital also reflects this idea since people experience it as they pass by on the street outside. While the art celebrates the success of black doctors, the sheer size of the facade means that one must stand outside the hospital in order to appreciate that celebration. In 1925 James Weldon Johnson noted, The question naturally comes, ‘Are the Negroes going to be able to hold Harlem?’ If they have been steadily driven northward for the past hundred years … can they hold this choice bit of Manhattan Island? … When colored people do leave Harlem … it will be because the land has become so valuable they can no longer afford to live on it.32 Recent and ongoing gentrification of Harlem suggests Johnson was not incorrect in his concerns nearly a century ago. In 2011, Sharifa Rhodes-Pitts picked up the note sounded by Ellison 216

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and declared once again “Harlem is Nowhere.”While Rhodes-Pitts was concerned with economic pressures on Harlem, she ultimately located Harlem in the “nowhere” of letters written, pamphlets distributed, conversations overheard, petitions signed, and friends greeted. RhodesPitts argued that the real Harlem—Harlem as the heart of black America—is neither bound by institutions nor found in landmarks, but is malleable, dynamic, and exists at a grassroots level on the streets.33 So too is the religious space created at the confluence of the New Deal and the New Negro. The religion here is not bound by, but instead extends from and beyond, institutional walls. It is not encompassed by one set of doctrines, texts, or beliefs, but rather embraces a range of traditions. It provides an orienting, yet open-ended narrative involving persons with which passersby might share a sense of companionship. Although stripped of explicitly religious images when it became the public face of the hospital, Pursuit of Happiness nevertheless furthers the process of racial aesthetics. The hospital facade is not religious by itself, but rather offers a narrative in which black Harlem residents may find companionship with figures of the mythic African past. Despite the racial and economic marginalization of Harlem, the hospital facade stands as a reminder that Harlem was, and is, a black space. In the midst of this wounding the murals accompany passersby as they make their way as black people in a white, racist America.

Notes 1 Today this building is part of the Schomburg Center.“About the Countee Cullen Library,” New York Public Library, accessed May 28, 2020, www.nypl.org/about/locations/countee-cullen. 2 Robert Orsi, Between Heaven and Earth:The Worlds Religious People Make and the Scholars who Study Them (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005), p. 145. 3 I use the term New Negro to emphasize the ways in which this movement was about the development of new significations for black racial identity.While the period did see black artists gain greater acceptance in white-dominated art markets, the term Harlem Renaissance positions this movement as a period within a longer white-dominated art history, while the term New Negro emphasizes the ways in which the artists understood themselves at that time, and places this movement within a larger black American history. 4 Kenneth J. Bindas, Modernity and the Great Depression:The Transformation of American Society, 1930–1941 (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 2017), pp. 6–10. 5 Nick Taylor, American Made:The Enduring Legacy of the WPA:When FDR Put the Nation to Work (New York: Bantam Books, 2008), pp. 248–9. 6 Jonathan Harris, Federal Art and National Culture:The Politics of Identity in New Deal America (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995), p. 61. 7 For the Roosevelt administration, with its refusal to support an anti-lynching bill and its submission to Jim Crow norms, the authentic America was white. 8 Melville Herskovits, “The Negro’s Americanism,” in The New Negro, ed., Alain Locke (New York: Atheneum, 1980), p. 359.This quote demonstrates the difference in Herskovits’s early thinking compared to the ideas he presents in his 1941 The Myth of the Negro Past. Other scholars have noted this change in Herskovits’s scholarship. For example, see Richard A. Long,“Some Backgrounds for African Continuity Studies,” in Journal of African Studies 2 No. 4 (Winter 1975): pp. 561–8, p. 563. 9 Alain Locke,“The New Negro,” in The New Negro, ed.,Alain Locke (New York:Atheneum, 1980), p. 10. 10 Arthur Schomburg, “The Negro Digs Up His Past,” in The New Negro, ed., Alain Locke (New York: Atheneum, 1980), p. 237. 11 Josef Sorett, Spirit in the Dark: A Religious History of Racial Aesthetics (New York: New York University Press, 2016), p. 4. 12 Sorett, pp. 25–34, pp. 45–48. 13 Wallace Best, Passionately Human, No Less Divine: Religion and Culture in Black Chicago, 1915–1952 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005); Judith Weisenfeld, New World A-Coming: Black Religion and Racial Identity during the Great Migration (New York: New York University Press, 2016).

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Michael McLaughlin 14 Judith Weisenfeld, New World A-Coming: Black Religion and Racial Identity during the Great Migration (New York: New York University Press, 2016). 15 Digital images of the four panels can be found through the NewYork Public Library Digital Collections. For direct links, see Negro in an African Setting https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/634c59a4-6f993618-e040-e00a180633b0, From Slavery To Reconstruction https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/ 634ad849-7832-309e-e040-e00a180639bb, Idyll of the Deep South https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/ items/634c04bc-fed3-b0e8-e040-e00a18063c1a, and Song of the Towers https://digitalcollections. nypl.org/items/6ca557ed-9597-5dcd-e040-e00a18065af4. 16 Amy Helene Kirschke, Aaron Douglas: Art, Race, and the Harlem Renaissance (Jackson, MS: University Press of Mississippi, 1995), pp. 121–4. 17 Hayes won the WPA/FAP contract in 1936.The murals were painted in 1937, and, as such, that is the year given as the work’s date. 18 Information and images concerning the Pursuit of Happiness mural can be found on Columbia University’s Institute for Research in African American Studies’ website devoted to the Harlem Hospital Murals, See “The Murals | Pursuit of Happiness” http://iraas.columbia.edu/wpa/pursuit.html. Accessed May 27, 2019. Although Columbia’s IRAAS’s website only hosts images of the individual slides, NYC Design has posted black and white images of the original hallway in its entirety. See “Harlem Hospital WPA Murals,” album uploaded by NYC Design, www.flickr.com/photos/nycdesign/ albums/72157650208943559.Accessed May 27, 2019. 19 “Discrimination Charges Hurled At Supt. Of Harlem Hospital For Rejecting Negro Artists’ Murals,” The New York Age, Saturday, February 29, 1936, No. 3.Accessed via Newspapers.com April 28, 2018. 20 Cooper Hewitt,“Inspired:Africa,WPA Art and a Unique Hospital Design,” posted by Cooper Hewitt, uploaded Jun 3, 2013, 7:20, www.youtube.com/watch?v=orbRNNebPE4.The relevant story is narrated by the pre-recorded voice of Vertis Hayes Jr. (the artist’s son); See also Ernestine Jenkins, “Muralist Vertis Hayes and the LeMoyne Federal Art Center: A Legacy of African American Fine Arts in Memphis, Tennessee 1930s–1950s,” in Tennessee Historical Quarterly, 73, No. 2 (SUMMER 2014): p. 140. 21 Columbia University Institute for Research in African American Studies, “The Murals | Conserving the Murals” http://iraas.columbia.edu/wpa/conservation.html. Completion of the curtain wall containing the images from Hayes’s murals occurred in 2010. The Mural Pavilion interior was opened September 27, 2012, see NYC.gov, “Mayor Bloomberg, Deputy Mayor Gibbs And HHC President Alan D. Aviles Open New Harlem Hospital Patient Pavilion,” September 27, 2017, www1.nyc.gov/office-of-the-mayor/news/339-12/mayor-bloomberg-deputy-mayor-gibbs-hhcpresident-alan-d-aviles-open-new-harlem-hospital. 22 Nadine Matthews,“Make room for rumba! The Cuban dance form is coming for Harlem week!” New York Amsterdam News, August 15, 2019 http://amsterdamnews.com/news/2019/aug/15/make-roomrumba-cuban-dance-form-coming-harlem-wee/; “Harlem Haberdashery hosts Harlem Hospital benefit.” New York Amsterdam News, March 5, 2015 http://amsterdamnews.com/news/2015/mar/05/ harlem-haberdashery-hosts-harlem-hospital-benefit/. 23 Cooper Hewitt, 1:04:05. Roughly six million dollars were privately donated to the mural restoration project. 24 For images of the renovated hospital exterior see “Harlem Hospital Center—Mural Pavilion,” International Design Awards USA, accessed May 28, 2020 https://idesignawards.com/winners/zoom. php?eid=9-6955-14. 25 Cooper Hewitt, 1:24:24. 26 I Bike Harlem (@ibikeharlem). 2018.“The facade of Harlem Hospital.” Instagram.April 8, 2018. www. instagram.com/p/BhTzxZSgIzp/; DonnieDelano (@DonnieDelano). 2016. “When youre there for inspiration.”Twitter. May 25, 2016, 9:27 p.m. https://twitter.com/DonnieDelano/status/7356434441 36271872. 27 Jennifer T. (@chebitts). 2012.“Everything’s intact here in Harlem.” Instagram. October 31, 2012. www. instagram.com/p/RdxuPyh006/. 28 Garland, Robert (@robertgarland). 2016. “The mural looks especially beautiful this morning.” Instagram.April 16, 2017. www.instagram.com/p/BS8VAcPBj6j/. 29 Michel de Certeau,“Spatial Practices:Walking in the City (1984),” in The People, Space, and Place Reader, eds, Jack Gieseking and William Mangold, with Cindi Katz, Setha Low, and Susan Saegert (New York: Routledge, 2014), pp. 232–6.

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Religious space in public art 30 Kiki (@komrade_kiki). 2018. “Vertis Hayes.” Instagram. June 4, 2018. www.instagram.com/p/ BjmJAVAlHZG/; Mike Shepherd (@angeloshep). 2015. “Sights of Harlem.” Instagram. May 7, 2015. www.instagram.com/p/2ZuPIIQWqf/. 31 Ralph Ellison, “Harlem Is Nowhere,” Harper’s Magazine, August 1, 1964, 229. Although written in 1948, Ellison’s essay was not published until 1964. 32 James Weldon Johnson,“Harlem:The Culture Capital,” in The New Negro, ed.,Alain Locke (New York: Atheneum, 1980), p. 310. 33 Sharifa Rhodes-Pitts, Harlem is Nowhere: A Journey to the Mecca of Black America (New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2011).

Bibliography “About the Countee Cullen Library.” New York Public Library. Accessed May 28, 2020. www.nypl.org/ about/locations/countee-cullen. Allen, Holly. Forgotten Men and Fallen Women:The Cultural Politics of New Deal Narratives (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2015). Best, Wallace. Passionately Human, No Less Divine: Religion and Culture in Black Chicago, 1915–1952 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005). Bindas, Kenneth J. Modernity and the Great Depression: The Transformation of American Society, 1930–1941 (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 2017). Columbia University Institute for Research in African-American Studies.“The Murals | Conserving the Murals.”Accessed May 28, 2020. http://iraas.columbia.edu/wpa/conservation.html. Cooper, Hewitt. “Inspired: Africa, WPA Art and a Unique Hospital Design.” YouTube. Accessed June 3, 2013. www.youtube.com/watch?v=orbRNNebPE4. de Certeau, Michel. “Spatial Practices:Walking in the City (1984).” In The People, Space, and Place Reader, eds, Jack Gieseking and William Mangold, with Cindi Katz, Setha Low and Susan Saegert (New York: Routledge, 2014), pp. 232–6. Ellison, Ralph.“Harlem Is Nowhere.” Harper’s Magazine.August 1, 1964. “Harlem Haberdashery Hosts Harlem Hospital Benefit.” New York Amsterdam News. Accessed March 5, 2015. http://amsterdamnews.com/news/2015/mar/05/harlem-haberdashery-hosts-harlem-hospitalbenefit/. Harris, Jonathan. Federal Art and National Culture: The Politics of Identity in New Deal America (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995). Herskovits, Melville J. Myth of the Negro Past (New York: Harper & Brothers Publishers, 1941). Herskovits, Melville J. “The Negro’s Americanism.” In The New Negro, edited by Alain Locke (New York: Atheneum, 1980), pp. 353–68. Jenkins, Ernestine. “Muralist Vertis Hayes and the LeMoyne Federal Art Center: A Legacy of African American Fine Arts in Memphis, Tennessee 1930s–1950s.” Tennessee Historical Quarterly 73, No. 2 (2014): p. 140. Johnson, James Weldon. “Harlem: The Culture Capital.” In The New Negro, edited by Alain Locke (New York:Atheneum, 1980), pp. 301–11. Kirschke, Amy Helene. Aaron Douglas: Art, Race, and the Harlem Renaissance (Jackson, MS: University Press of Mississippi, 1995). Locke, Alain. “The Legacy of the Ancestral Arts.” In The New Negro, edited by Alain Locke (New York: Atheneum, 1980), pp. 254–67. Locke, Alain, ed. The New Negro (New York:Atheneum, 1980), pp. 3–16. Long, Richard A. “Some Backgrounds for African Continuity Studies.” Journal of African Studies 2, No. 4 (1975): pp. 561–8. Nadine Matthews.“Make Room for Rumba! The Cuban Dance Form Is Coming for Harlem Week!” New York Amsterdam News.Accessed August 15,2019.http://amsterdamnews.com/news/2019/aug/15/makeroom-rumba-cuban-dance-form-coming-harlem-wee/. NYC.gov. “Mayor Bloomberg, Deputy Mayor Gibbs and HHC President Alan D. Aviles Open New Harlem Hospital Patient Pavilion.”Accessed September 27, 2012. www1.nyc.gov/office-of-the-mayor/ news/339-12/mayor-bloomberg-deputy-mayor-gibbs-hhc-president-alan-d-aviles-open-new-har lem-hospital.

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Michael McLaughlin Orsi, Robert. Between Heaven and Earth:The Religious Worlds People Make and the Scholars who Study Them (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005). Rhodes-Pitts, Sharifa. Harlem is Nowhere: A Journey to the Mecca of Black America (New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2011). Schomburg, Arthur.“The Negro Digs Up His Past.” In The New Negro, edited by Alain Locke (New York: Atheneum, 1980), pp. 231–7. Sorett, Josef. Spirit in the Dark:A Religious History of Racial Aesthetics (New York: New York University Press, 2016). Taylor, Nick. American Made:The Enduring Legacy of the WPA:When FDR Put the Nation to Work (New York: Bantam Books, 2008). The New York Age . “Discrimination Charges Hurled at Supt. Of Harlem Hospital for Rejecting Negro Artists’ Murals.” The New York Age, Saturday, February 29, 1936, No. 3. Accessed April 28, 2018. Newspapers.com. Weisenfeld, Judith. New World A-Coming: Black Religion and Racial Identity during the Great Migration (New York: New York University Press, 2016).

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16 THE INTERSECTION OF IMMIGRATION, SOCIAL CONFLICT, AND ART Dance and identity in “East” Haifa Amanda Furiasse

The Israeli city of Haifa is well known among global tourists and visitors for its pristine beaches, panoramic mountain views, liberal Arab culture, and robust Africana arts community.African art galleries, concert halls, theatres, and dance studios dot the city’s landscape, with the sounds of Amharic wafting out of local cafes and spilling over into the city’s narrow streets while the city’s residents sip beso in local Ethiopian cafés.While the city is home to many of the world’s wellknown global Africana musicians, dancers, and artists, the Ethiopian-Israeli Beta Dance Troupe remains among the city’s most popular and famous artistic achievements. However, the city’s boom in global Africana arts occurs simultaneously and contradictorily while the city’s divide between rich and poor reaches a historically unprecedented level. Every neighborhood in the city is classified colloquially according to its position on Mount Carmel’s slopes. At Mount Carmel’s apex sits luxurious multimillion-dollar condominiums where residents enjoy stunning views of the Mediterranean Sea and contemporary hi-tech amenities, including gates that open and close via advanced iris scanning technology.The neighborhood’s residents include global tech entrepreneurs with the recognizable American companies “IBM” and “Google” lofted high into the sky. In contrast to those living at the city’s hi-tech apex, those living at the mountain’s base close to the city’s port live in ethnically and economically segregated neighborhoods. Near the city’s port sits the Arab neighborhood of Wadi Nisnas, where tightly confined and dilapidated apartments expose the neighborhood’s predominantly Arab residents to toxic fumes from the nearby port and rotten sewage and trash.1 Haifa’s growing economic stratification raises important questions about the city’s future. I propose that studying the Ethiopian-Israeli Beta Dance Troupe’s performances offers important insight into Haifa’s imminent, Afro-digital future. In short, I argue that, while the city’s hi-tech boom is facilitating stratification, it is also simultaneously providing financial, social, and geopolitical resources to Ethiopian Jewish communities living on Mount Carmel’s eastern slopes in “East” Haifa. On the mountain’s eastern slopes, Ethiopian Jews are successfully merging programming, African dance, and Jewish ritual to produce a unique East African constellation of Jewishness. As both a technology and ritual, this Afro-centric understanding of Jewish identity rebuffs Jewish immigrants’ systemic exclusion from the hi-tech industry and Israel’s central 221

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institutions. Moreover, Ethiopian Jews are increasingly using hi-tech companies’ global networks of communication to evangelize their African constellation of Jewishness to youth across the globe, thus reshaping the city of Haifa into their long-promised Zion.

“The Wedding” In the 1990s, the city of Haifa was in the middle of an economic transformation that took shape on Mount Carmel’s apex.The centerpiece of this historic transformation was the MTM Science Industries Center. The MTM is the largest single site of private hi-tech industries in Israel. Its local and international tenants include Google, IBM, Intel, Fibronics, Elbit, and Elscint.2 Rounding out this transformation was the redevelopment of the Technion or Israel Institute of Technology and University of Haifa, which fundamentally reconfigured their college curriculum to provide these global companies with the labor force, research, and laboratories that they needed to successfully thrive in the city. By the 1990s, Israelis commonly began to refer to Haifa as a central hub in their “Silicon Wadi.” Recent statistics report that the overwhelming majority of Haifa’s residents (over 70%) are employed in the hi-tech sector.3 Moreover, Haifa plays a fundamental role in facilitating Israel’s global trade networks, since hi-tech exports—specifically products with high Research and Development density, such as computers, pharmaceuticals, scientific instruments, complex machinery, and aerospace—are Israel’s largest combined export.4 At the very same time that the city was undergoing this hi-tech transformation, Dege Feder and a collection of Ethiopian Jewish youth living in Haifa founded “Eskesta,” later renamed the “Beta Dance Troupe,” in partnership with Ruth Eshel, who was an internationally acclaimed dancer, choreographer, and professor at the University of Haifa. At the time, Feder and the troupe’s founding Ethiopian Jewish members were studying at the University of Haifa.According to Eshel, she decided to start the dance troupe after she spent some time visiting, observing, and meeting Ethiopian Jewish communities living in what Israelis commonly refer to as “caravans,” collections of mobile homes located on the outskirts of the city in which the Israeli government settled Ethiopian Jewish communities when they first arrived in the country.5 As a trained professional dancer and academic, Eshel wanted to better understand how and why Ethiopian Jews integrated dance into their Jewish ritual traditions.Whether it was the Sabbath, a wedding,Yom Kippur, or Bar Mitzvah, Eshel noticed that dance was a fundamental element of Ethiopian Jews’ daily lives and rituals. Moreover, while teaching dance courses at the University of Haifa, Eshel observed that Ethiopian Jewish students were interested in enrolling in her composition courses. However, one of the main problems that Eshel first encountered when trying to create a dance curriculum for Ethiopian Jewish students was that they were not necessarily interested in following a static or established program of education with set rules. As she explains,“While they paid little attention to my instructions in the course, rather doing whatever they pleased, what they did was wonderful. I suggested establishing a dance group. They did, and brought their friends, male and female, from the university.”6 Following Eshel’s observations, the troupe’s founding members were not necessarily aiming to prepare for a professional career in the arts. In fact, most were studying at the university to prepare for professional careers in Haifa’s booming hi-tech economy. Their desire to join the troupe was motivated by an underlying need to find a space for creative self-expression as they studied and trained to become young entrepreneurs and creators. As Minalu Degai, one of the troupe’s founding members, explained, “I danced traditional dances with which I grew up and I was told how to dance them. Here (with the Beta Dance Troupe), I can create, and it is such a wonderful gift.”7 Creating a dance troupe at the very same

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moment that the city transformed into a global hi-tech hub thus provided a way for Ethiopian Jewish youth to seize upon the growing promise of entrepreneurship as graduating students created tech startups and new creative hi-tech companies. Moreover, their creative performances attracted young tech entrepreneurs and artists from around the city as the group quickly became well known for their distinctive style of dance called “eskesta.” Simply put, eskesta is a distinctive Afro-centric style of dance which involves intense shoulder movements whereby movement originates in a dancer’s shoulders and descends down to the rest of the body. For troupe members, eskesta is more than just a shoulder movement. It is a diverse and complex ritual practice that enables dancers to experiment with a wide range of sounds and movements, allowing them to discover somatic memories—memories which are stored within their bodies.8 The dance studio then operates as a laboratory where performers can experiment with sounds and movements to unlock memories of their pasts. Since dance is approached as a process of self-discovery, dancers are not necessarily rehearsing carefully prescribed movements in the studio, but practice consists of a dynamic process of experimentation whereby dancers use a vast array of different aesthetics to facilitate memory. A diverse amalgamation of aesthetics gave the Beta Dance Troupe’s first public performances a distinctive feel. Their performances were playful, energetic, and spontaneous.9 Transforming the stage into a playground, troupe members acted like they were playing at a playground as they shimmied shoulders, bumped, slapped, and rambunctiously swung their limbs. In contrast to Classical European dance where dancers match or dance to the beat, troupe members established a rhythm that balanced the music, facilitating a sensation of swinging and conversing with the music. Audience members were in turn encouraged to play along with performers and join in the dance while drawing upon their own distinctive bodily sounds and movements. Troupe members did not reject this creative amalgamation of Ethiopian and Israeli aesthetics but actively encouraged it. For example, in one of the troupe’s first dances, called “The Wedding,” troupe members playfully gathered onto the stage before the audience.A bridegroom and bride wearing colorful black and gold gowns leaped to the center of the stage while troupe members wearing white costumes with colorful belts tied around their waists danced around the couple.The audience added to the dance’s percussive sounds, clapping along with the dancers and thus enhancing the dancers’ high-energy movements on stage. In the end, the combination of music and movement spatially and temporally transported residents in Haifa to an Ethiopian Jewish wedding. Their unique ability to transport audiences remained a defining feature of their early performances, with the primary audience composed of the residents working at the global hi-tech companies at Mount Carmel’s apex.The exuberance and energetic optimism from their public performances was infectious as it facilitated a kinesthetic lightness whereby Haifa’s tech professionals were invited to partake and participate in an Ethiopian Jewish ritual. Dancers facilitated emotive states of joy, celebration, and fun, which are the very same affective or emotive states one would feel at an Ethiopian Jewish wedding.10 The troupe’s integration of play into their performances might be a central rationale behind their ability to attract the city’s tech professionals.To understand why tech professionals, especially programmers, would be drawn in by play, it is crucial to understand a programmer’s role and responsibility. A programmer’s primary responsibility is to break a problem down into a set of commands to provide the machine with a set of clear tasks to follow. In the early days of programming, programmers worked in machinic languages and used the machine’s numericbased language systems to create simple, numerical-based procedures.The creation of high-level alphanumeric programming languages (“high” refers to languages closer to human language)

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automated programming by allowing the machine to compile and interpret computer code, ultimately changing programming from a numerical- to a problem-based task. While this shift to abstraction freed programmers from the drudgery of having to repetitively write long lists of commands every time they programmed a machine, this shift to abstraction also separated programmers from the machine or computer’s hardware, since they only needed to type their incantations onto their keyboard for millions of interfaces to spring to life.11 However, the increasing prevalence of bugs or unforeseen machinic interpretations indicates that programmers are not necessarily commanding machines, but these machines are “talking back.” Put differently, bugs expose the unavoidable reality that, as programmers shift more toward abstraction, they must give away their power to the machines with the expectation that abstraction will help increase the programmer’s efficiency. Play offers a potential resolution to this problem, since it encourages programmers to understand that they are not commanding machines but facilitating exchanges between machines and humans. As Christian Ulrik Andersen explains, the creation of the computer game, as a play-based type of software, helped programmers redress this disjuncture with computer games developing alongside the use of abstraction or high-level programming languages.12 According to Anderson, computer games dissolve the boundary between the computer and player’s body, and allow the player’s body to become an element within the computer system. For example, a player’s embodied movements on a game controller literally facilitate movements within the computer screen. Gaming’s capacity to dissolve the boundaries between the human body and the machine ultimately facilitates humanity’s “symbiosis” with computer systems, while transforming humans into what Brian Holmes describes as info-mechanical beings.13 However, play in computer games remains rigidly defined around the notion of a game, with the player ultimately in competition with the machine. Situating the player into competition with the machine hinders a complete symbiosis between human and machine, since the game encourages the player to dominate the machine. But dancers in the Beta Dance Troupe reveal that play can happen without competition. For the Beta Dance Troupe, the sole purpose of play is to cultivate affective states of being which act as the glue binding social relationships together. Play, then, is pointless in a way, because the goal is not to win or defeat others. Inviting tech professionals sitting in the audience to dance with the troupe onstage is relational. By accepting the troupe’s invitation to play, tech professionals are given the opportunity to facilitate a symbiosis with Ethiopian Jews in the same way computer games might facilitate a symbiosis between machines and humans. In the process, dancers operate in much the same way as programmers at Google’s headquarters on Mount Carmel—with one key exception. Dancers are not playing to compete and win at a game with a clear set of rigidly defined rules, but they are playing to have fun, relax, and invigorate their bodies and the bodies of their audience members while enabling audience members to change them in the process. The music plays a crucial role in facilitating this process of playful exchange.As a basic machine or tool, the drums that create the beat in the troupe’s dances issue commands to the dancers, and the dancers in turn converse with the beat as they compile and interpret the music’s instructions like a computer compiles and interprets a programmer’s instructions. The dancers’ playful exchange with the music creates the conditions for their playful exchange with their audience, since their facilitation of a dialogue with the music allows audience members to join them on stage. Since dancers do not assume control over this complex exchange, they welcome others onto the stage.This lack of control is not a source of frustration for dancers but instead a source of fun and joy that allows dancers to call other Jewish bodies onto the stage. Furthermore, the troupe’s facilitation of this symbiosis of flesh and machine on stage is not just a manifestation of the troupe’s Afro-diasporic aesthetics but a specific Jewish ritual with historic roots in the Oral Law. 224

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“What the Shoulders Remember” Ethiopian Jews’ relationship to the Oral Law remains a fundamental point of contention since their arrival in Israel. In the mid-1980s, as the Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin began to plan Ethiopian Jews’ planned resettlement to Israel, known as “Operation Moses” and “Operation Solomon,” he kept the plan a secret from the Chief Rabbinate, the central authority in Israel responsible for deciding who can emigrate to Israel under the Law of Return. Begin’s decision to keep their resettlement a secret from the Chief Rabbinate created various problems for Ethiopian Jewish communities, many of which were forced to walk hundreds of miles on foot through Sudan where they languished in Sudanese refugee camps.14 When Ethiopian Jewish families finally arrived in Israel, the Israeli Rabbinate halted their entry into Israeli society.15 Although Ethiopian Jewish communities maintained the Written Law or Tanakh, the Rabbinate questioned whether they understood and integrated the Oral Law (which the Rabbinate defined as synonymous with Talmudic texts) into their ritual practices.16 In the end, the Rabbinate decided that Ethiopian Jews needed to submit to a comprehensive program of reeducation before they could settle within Israeli society.17 Ethiopian Jewish families were consequently forced into what the Israeli government called “absorption centers,” where they were taught the Rabbinate’s interpretation of the Oral Law. In addition to the Oral Law, absorption centers were intended to equip Ethiopian Jewish communities with the requisite skills to work in Israel’s booming hi-tech cities.18 Thus, the process of learning the Oral Law also involved learning the requisite skills that they would need to one day study at Haifa’s technical universities and work at Google’s global headquarters.19 The city of Haifa also offered Ethiopian Jewish communities the opportunity to resettle alongside Israel’s other marginalized Jewish communities, specifically Mizrahi Jews or Jews from the Middle East and North Africa, who have historically made a home for themselves on Mount Carmel’s eastern slopes. Like Ethiopian Jews, Mizrahi Jews were denied the right to representation in the Israeli Rabbinate and, as a result, have historically grappled with systemic racism and discrimination.20 Mizrahi Jews’ resettled to the city’s east in the aftermath of violent protests, called the Wadi Salib riots.21 In response to this crisis, the Israeli government promised to build affordable housing for Mizrahi communities on Mount Carmel’s eastern slopes.22 As government officials started to create housing blocks in East Haifa, they also simultaneously started to build art and cultural centers in the area, which they assumed would facilitate Mizrahi Jews’ integration into Israeli society. Thus, the tension between Haifa’s Ashkenazi establishment and Jews from the Global South over the Oral Law remains etched onto the geography of Mount Carmel’s eastern slopes. A decade after the troupe’s founding, this conflict over the Oral Law became a dominant theme in their performances. Originally performed in 2005 before a packed audience in East Haifa, “What the Shoulders Remember” vividly captures this tension.23 The dance begins with a male dancer, holding a chera, a carved stick used by Ethiopian Jewish priests, to guide other female dancers across the stage.The other female dancers follow him, walking hunched over across the stage as if carrying a huge burden on their backs.The male dancer hands the chera off to other female dancers.The female dancers then move in sweeping motions to the stage’s center, each holding their own chera. The music blends modern instrumentals, specifically the violin, flute, and bells, with Amharic vocals.The combination of modern instrumentals with Amharic chanting facilitates the feeling of the sacred as dancers move like ghosts across the stage.Their shoulder movements add to this effect as they move in seemingly painful, disjointed movements. In contrast to the troupe’s earlier performances, “What the Shoulders Remember,” evokes feelings of sorrow and tragedy. The music facilitates this emotive state as it blends Hebrew 225

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chants of Talmudic passages with Amharic vocals. Commonly associated with Ashkenazi rituals, the blending of Hebrew chanting with Amharic vocals effect not only blends Ashkenazi and Ethiopian aesthetics but “sacralizes” the performance of African music and movements. Put differently, the addition of Hebrew chants and specific instruments, such as the violin, which the audience associates with Ashkenazi Jewish rituals evokes the Jewish sacred while simultaneously telling a story about Ethiopian Jews.24 The troupe’s integration of Ashkenazi Jewish rituals into their performance establishes an emotive connection between audience members and dancers as the use of Hebrew chanting triggers audience members’ memories of their own personal tragedies. More specifically, the ritual practice of Hebrew chanting commonly became associated with the Holocaust as liturgical chanting and Holocaust poetry became an emblem of Ashkenazi Jews’ suffering during the Holocaust.25 According to Adesola Akinleye, this is ultimately what makes dance such an effective mechanism for cultivating relationships. As she explains, dance is “an embodied knowing that ‘speaks’ the somatic language of movement and sensation rather than verbal words.”26 In the case of the Beta Dance Troupe, these relationships are ultimately forged through the sharing of memory. Moreover, members of the Beta Dance Troupe imagine this memory-making process as one that is deeply connected to Jewish ritual.As Ruth Eshel explains, when the dancers walk into the dance studio, they imagine that they are entering a river to purify themselves just as priests purify themselves before the Sabbath.27 In “What the Shoulders Remember,” dancers’ association with Ethiopian Jewish ritual is made fully apparent as they incorporate the chera, a ritual instrument once reserved for Ethiopian Jewish priests, into their performance. After the male dancer leads the other dancers onto the stage with the chera, he then hands it over to the other female dancers who follow behind him. When the female dancers use the chera, they are not necessarily using it to lead other dancers but instead draw the audience’s gaze to their legs and feet.With their backs hunched over, each time they pick up their foot to take a step, they simultaneously lift the chera up to mark each step of their long and pained journey. In effect, the dancers’ use of the chera sacralizes each step of Ethiopian Jewish communities’ migratory journey. The ritual space of the dance stage thus creates a symbiosis of black and Jewish bodies, which in turn facilitates a symbiosis of Jewish memory. Moreover, by facilitating this symbiosis of memory, the troupe is performing the very work reserved for the Oral Law. As a repository of Jewish diasporic communities’ collective memory, Talmudic texts ultimately preserve the chief rabbinic debates that defined the daily lives of Jewish communities living in the diaspora.28 These rabbinic debates do not just preserve the history of diasporic Jewish communities but break down Jewish ritual into small, discrete units. For example, in the infamous debate between the Schools or Houses of Hillel and Shammai over the ritual blessing of the Seder, each rabbi breaks down each component of the prescribed ritual and proceeds to debate the order of each step of this banquet ritual (Mishnah Pesachim 10:2).The School of Shammai argues that one must first bless the day, then the wine.The School of Hillel argues for the reverse and explains why one must bless the wine first, then the day. In the end, neither side comes to an agreement. The reader is thus left wondering why these rabbinic schools would debate these seemingly inane procedures. According to Jacob Neusner, debating these details enhances Jewish communities’ feelings of control: “The claims of Torah were important precisely because they extended to the humble things which one actually can control.”29 However, Neusner’s assumption completely negates the fact that these rabbinic debates about the processes involved when executing the Tanakh ultimately demonstrate that Jewish ritual is created and reproduced through playful exchange with God’s commands.Thus, rabbinic debates or interpretations occur in the space 226

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in between the text’s command and the community’s execution as each rabbinic school playfully exchanges with the Tanakh’s text-based commands in different ways. Rather than reduce Jewish ritual to control, the Oral Law instead encourages communities to playfully exchange with God’s commands. The Oral Law uses playful exchanges between rabbinic schools to facilitate a symbiosis of flesh and text in the same way software achieves a symbiosis between flesh and machine. Like the programmer’s code, the Tanakh is issuing commands, but those commands are ultimately subject to rabbinic interpretation.The Oral Law does not conceal this messy process but instead transforms it into an opportunity for play between the community’s rabbinic authorities. Like software, the Oral Law is a specific technology that enables diasporic Jewish communities to facilitate relationships among diasporic communities living in different geopolitical locations who might retain different interpretations of God’s commands. As a collective memory bank for the Jewish people, the Oral Law thus grounds Jewish memory in difference in that diasporic communities’ differing interpretations of God’s commands are respected and given expression in the texts of the Talmud. Fulfilling the Talmud’s central commitment to play, the Beta Dance Troupe uses movement, specifically kinesthetic empathy, to invoke the memories of audience members on stage while simultaneously drawing on their own collective memories of migration. It is a playful exchange of memory, which ultimately makes audience members feel as though Ethiopian Jewish memories of migration are their own. The troupe also opens themselves up to be changed in the process, actively remembering their memories of migration in ways that their white, upper-class audience would understand, thus injecting their memories into the minds of their upper-class audience memories.This commitment to play is not at odds with the Oral Law but fulfills the Oral Law’s fundamental commitment to play as the central hallmark of Jewishness. Moreover, the Beta Dance Troupe and Oral Law share this important similarity as technologies that root diasporic Jewish communities’ collective memory around the shared respect for difference. However, the Beta Dance Troupe’s commitment to Jewish memory situates them in direct conflict with the Israeli Knesset and Rabbinate.The Rabbinate mistakenly conflates the technology of text with the Oral Law itself and as a result redefines Jewish identity around a set of rigidly controlled and regulated texts.As a result, difference is not only strongly discouraged but also being systematically surveyed and eliminated in Israel’s cities.

“BUG” The troupe’s performances are a complex technology that enable the troupe to redress the Rabbinate’s increasingly narrow definition of Jewish identity and Haifa’s increasing stratification. Thus, their effort to rebuff the Rabbinate’s understanding of the Oral Law in Israeli society has geopolitical consequences for the city of Haifa. These geopolitical consequences are nowhere more evident than in the troupe’s changing racial and ethnic dynamics.Today, the troupe is as diverse as Neve Yosef, the neighborhood where the Beta Dance Troupe practices and performs. The neighborhood of Neve Yosef mostly consists of low-rent apartments, small stores called “pitsusias,” highways, and run-down construction storage facilities. As construction trucks pass on the nearby highways, an amalgamation of Arabic,Amharic, Hebrew, and English words fill the neighborhood’s streets with a buzz of human activity.This diverse mixture of diasporic cultures has not necessarily given the neighborhood a positive representation among locals who refer to it simply as “Neve Jzo-Jzo,” a slur intended to denigrate the neighborhood’s African population. However, while locals might denigrate the neighborhood’s diverse amalgamation of cultures, Neve Yosef ’s geographic location on Mount Carmel’s eastern slopes offers dancers the 227

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strategic advantage of being geographically close to Haifa’s flagship universities. The Technion or Israel Institute of Technology is located fewer than four kilometers away from Neve Yosef. The University of Haifa is also located about seven kilometers away from the neighborhood. Although the universities are not integrated into the surrounding neighborhoods, researchers and graduate students often rent apartments in Neve Yosef, since the neighborhood is not only close in proximity to the universities but also one of the few neighborhoods where researchers and students can find affordable housing options. The neighborhood’s arts-based nonprofit facilities add to this distinctive educational and academic feel. Founded in the aftermath of Mizrahi communities’ relocation to East Haifa, they remain a major attraction, drawing visiting researchers and tourists to the neighborhood. Among the most popular arts-based nonprofits in the neighborhood include the Neve Yosef Community Center (NYCC) where the Beta Dance Troupe has practiced and performed for more than a decade.The NYCC offers a diverse combination of computer programming and tech courses alongside arts-based programming, including classes in hip-hop, jazz, and Latin dance. In this diverse milieu of computer programming and hip-hop classes, the Beta Dance Troupe has been able to recruit a wide range of Israelis and Palestinians from different backgrounds and cultivate a diverse amalgamation of aesthetics. Cybernetic aesthetics or aesthetics of the digital are becoming particularly prominent in the troupe’s performances with the troupe’s increasing integration of control systems and automata. In their most recent performance, “BUG,” dancers integrated the digital camera and sophisticated digital editing techniques into their performance.30 The use of digital editing in post-production makes the dancers appear and disappear on screen in quick, unexpected, and sudden movements.The effect on the viewer is at first jarring, disorientating, and even nauseating.This effect is created by the constant flashes and cuts which are akin to a strobe light. Quick flashes of different sounds and images intercut the performance at seemingly random and spontaneous moments.The use of slow motion and other digital editing techniques enhance this effect. While dancers perform in a lush garden, the camera disrupts this clear sense of time and place with the incessant flashes of other images and noises. The music titled Music for Pieces of Wood, adds to this feeling and creates an almost ghostly and ethereal feeling. Created by beating various pieces and types of wood, the music features the work of Steve Reich who is an American Jewish composer well known for his minimal music or “relaxing sonic technologies” which rely on a diverse amalgamation of aesthetics.31 In “BUG,” Reich’s Music for Pieces of Wood captures a symbiosis of African, Jewish, and Latin aesthetics with Reich combining the African and Latin claves to create different pitch variations which the dancers in turn heighten with their sparring and abrupt movements across the computer screen. At one point, the use of a strobe effect makes it look as though a dancer has been cut and pasted to a different location. Other dancers move as though they are following a mouse across the screen while others move as though they are a file that has been moved to the trash. At another point, dancers gather together in two straight lines and collectively shout “wow” and then scatter across the screen. It is as if the user has turned on their computer screen to see their home screen giving them a warm welcome. Moments later, dancers gather around one dancer and seemingly imprison her with their bodies as she desperately tries in vain to find something that she has lost.The performance again emphasizes a feeling of imprisonment as dancers reach up to the sky as if trying to free themselves from the forest’s dense network of branches. In the end, dancers look as though they are moving and acting like software that remains trapped in between the computer, programmer, and user’s dense network of exchange. Their 228

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costumes, which consist of dull colors and rudimentary shapes, enhance this effect by making the dancers look like the basic visual foundations of software. Furthermore, the music’s repetitive loops make it sound as though troupe members are dancing to signals passing through fiber optic cables.This mixture of Reich’s soundscape and heavily edited visuals delivers an eerie and tense performance that looks and sounds like the inside of the computer. Although the troupe’s aesthetics might look vastly different from their earlier performances, the troupe continues to facilitate a playful exchange with both the music and audience. In the case of “BUG,” this playful exchange relies on digital editing mechanisms in post-production. In this case, interlacing the performance with digital editing in post-production impacts the audience’s physical and emotional state of being, literally facilitating a general feeling of confusion, nausea, and a general feeling of being lost or trapped. The troupe facilitates this feeling of confusion in the very same way interactions or exchanges with computer interfaces facilitate confusion in computer users. As Chun explains, confusion is generated by the user’s inability to map out the complex networks of exchange between the machine, programmer, and user with the interface concealing these networks.32 This process of concealment is intended to help the user more easily navigate the software, but it also simultaneously hinders the user’s ability to see and understand the exchanges behind the screen. The interface thus conceals from the user that they have very little freedom but are merely at the mercy of these exchanges. However, the emergence of the bug, as an unforeseen circumstance of this exchange, reveals to the user their complete lack of control as the bug breaks down the interface’s mapping processes. Bugs have increasingly become more of a problem and more prevalent as programmers continue to use more abstraction to get machines to automate more. In effect, a bug reveals that the interface’s mapping was concealing the playful exchange between the programmer’s commands, the machine’s interpretation, and the user’s engagement. Thus, the user, machine, and programmer remain entangled in a thick network of play, with each dependent on the other. This thick entanglement of play is increasingly becoming more of a problem for programmers, who cannot even identify a bug’s location within this dynamic and ever-changing network of exchanges, obscuring their vision and ability to recognize where and how the computer has interpreted their command in ways in which they could not foretell. In “BUG,” eskesta provides dancers with a technology to redress this growing problem in computer programming. The bugs are not hiding nor lost somewhere behind the interface, but they routinely surface in brief moments to the audience with the troupe using the strobe effect to intercut this bug or unforeseen action into the performance. In effect, the bugs are the dancers’ spontaneous and erratic movements that occur seemingly without a reason or pattern. However, bugs, unforeseen circumstances, do not disrupt dancers’ movements, but dancers instead alter their bodily movements to make this bug seem as though it fits within their performance.Their movements are thus disjointed, random, yet repetitive with slight alterations, and thus as random and strange as the bug. As a result, the bug or random, unforeseen action is not a problem but serves as the catalyst and definitive aesthetic that guides the troupe’s playful interactions. The troupe’s diverse membership with their dynamic amalgamation of aesthetics scales the heights of Mount Carmel’s slopes to achieve something that Google’s programmers cannot. Ethiopian Jews are acutely aware of and understand the bug, since they themselves are a bug or unforeseen circumstance in Jewish history that Israel’s Ashkenazi-centric institutions did not predict. Absent from the biblical and Talmudic record, Ethiopian Jews emerged as a seemingly random or spontaneous consequence of God’s playful exchange with humanity. However, their random or spontaneous emergence in Jewish history is not a weakness but in fact their 229

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greatest strength, since it is what allows them to not only cultivate difference but understand how it facilitates innovation and more advanced technologies and societies. This is a crucial insight that could benefit computational thinking as computational thinking is increasingly used to design and regulate cities. Every major innovation in programming is the result of a bug. Building upon this point,Warren Sack argues that the systematic exclusion and fear of bugs is not just an intellectual or theoretical exercise but has consequences for the systemic marginalization of minorities and women from the hi-tech sector. According to Sack, computer science, as the central pillar of the tech boom, has ultimately failed in its efforts at inclusion and diversity because of programming’s exclusion and fear of difference and subjectivity.33 Sack’s solution is to approach programming as an art as opposed to a science, since this shift would integrate the notion of difference into programming and thus facilitate both innovation and women and minorities’ integration into programming. In effect, the troupe fulfills Sack’s proposal and combines programming, African dance, and Jewish ritual to reprogram Haifa’s Jewish bodies. Doing so enables the troupe to facilitate innovation and produce complex performances, attracting audiences from across the globe for close to three decades. Jewish youth do not just flock to their performances but associate their performances with their own future. Moreover, the troupe is aware that they are not the only bugs in Israeli society; Mizrahi Jews and Palestinians have been actively integrated into the troupe’s membership and into their diasporic amalgamation of aesthetics. Rather than reject their status as a bug in Israeli society, the troupe instead embraces the spontaneous and randomness of the bug as the solution to Haifa’s increasing stratification and answer to Haifa’s continued transformation into a global,Afro-centric, hi-tech capital.

Conclusion Eskesta is not just a technology, but it is one which exposes the growing power and influence of the bug to Haifa and hi-tech cities like it across the globe. As Haifa’s bug, this Afro-centric, diasporic amalgamation of aesthetics facilitates connection with Haifa’s hi-tech executives, data specialists, and programmers. In the process, the troupe reshapes Haifa’s tech professionals into their own image and creates an Afro-centric aesthetic that continues to attract the city’s youth who associate it with their future. In the end, eskesta enables the bug, this unforeseen circumstance, to not only exist in Haifa but to scale Mount Carmel’s slopes and facilitate connection with those who view difference as a systemic problem that needs to be erased. Moreover, eskesta is also a ritual that enables the troupe to facilitate relationships with those who might seek their erasure. As cities become more dependent on software, they become more invested in the programmer’s promise of absolute control over employees and customers. However, the promise of absolute control only facilitates the bug’s dominance in cities.Thus, cities’ growing anxiety over the bug only enhances the bug’s imminent take-over.This is a crucially important insight for religion scholars to understand, since it exposes that the troupe’s performances are not an attempt to soften Ethiopian and Mizrahi Jews’ demand for redistributive action against Israel’s systemic racism and militarism. Rather, cross-cultural encounter and pluralistic discourse is providing the troupe with the mechanisms to undertake the most radical act in society today.The troupe uses religious ritual and the arts as a tool to integrate difference into programming, which in turn redresses their economic, political, and religious exclusion from Israel’s central institutions. However, the trend among religion scholars to treat pluralism as immaterial and disconnected from the historical shift from the analog to the digital in turn reflects a larger academic trend to approach software as immaterial and disconnected from global economic forces. For example, the notion that computer programming relies upon a great deal of low-skilled human labor is 230

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often overlooked in global tech conferences. More specifically, hi-tech companies’ dependency on African child miners to mine rare earth elements for computer hard drives and lithium-ion batteries is rarely a topic of scholarly debate at international conferences.34 Programmers’ value to society depends on concealing their dependency upon the impoverished and marginalized communities that make their products possible, since it exposes that programmers are not magicians who can merely create through a single keystroke. Programming is not immaterial but depends upon the material labor of hundreds of millions of low-paid workers across the globe. Of course, the prevalence of bugs jeopardizes this process of concealment and with it software’s promise of control to the universities, governments, companies, and hospitals which purchase it. Nearly every major institution in every city across the globe now relies on the programmer’s hollow promise of sovereignty. Thus, as global hi-tech companies continue to use their glossy interfaces to conceal users from the systemic racism and militarism that make software possible, cities will only continue to be infested with more and more bugs, which in turn threaten to bring down this entire artifice. While surveillance mechanisms may hunt for the increasing yet elusive bugs—subversive practices like eskesta, which challenge a surveillance system’s ability to understand and anticipate the future—and the search for them only facilitates their growing power over cities. However, eskesta enables the troupe to escape and even dismantle the city of Haifa’s investment in the bug’s eradication from contemporary life.The primary way that they achieve this is through language: the troupe categorizes their performances as purely “artistic” or “cultural.” Doing so allows the troupe to apply for financial grants reserved for the cultural integration of recently immigrated Jewish communities. It also allows them to escape the Israeli Knesset and Rabbinate’s gaze, which assumes that art is neither religious nor political and therefore not worthy of surveillance and regulation. Furthermore, the troupe’s categorization as politically docile or passive ultimately enables Ethiopian and Mizrahi Jews to bring Israeli society’s Ashkenazidominant establishment into their playground while simultaneously avoiding their surveillance mechanisms that seek their eradication. In effect, categorizing their performances as arts- or cultural-based as opposed to a religious or political institution enables troupe members to create a space in the Israeli city of Haifa where the bug can not only exist but create a vast and interconnected global network of influence. The Beta Dance Troupe is thus using the city’s unique geopolitical, social, and cultural resources to transform Mount Carmel’s apex into their long-promised, hi-tech, Afro-digital, global Zion. Moreover, as this network becomes ever-more intertwined with the unforeseen circumstances which challenge advanced surveillance system’s ability to predict the future, the future of Haifa is not only one where the bug is increasingly dominating, but cities across the globe are rapidly transforming into the bug’s playground.

Notes 1 Ian Black, “‘Haifa Is Essentially Segregated’: Cracks Appear in Israel’s Capital of Coexistence,” The Guardian, April 19, 2018, www.theguardian.com/cities/2018/apr/19/haifa-is-essentially-segregatedcracks-appear-in-israels-capital-of-coexistence. 2 Yehuda Gradus, Shaul Krakover,and Eran Razin,The Industrial Geography of Israel (Abingdon:Routledge, 2006), p. 115. 3 Yair Assaf-Shapira, “Hi-Tech Employees Who Really Do Tech—Diaspora—Jerusalem Post,” The Jerusalem Post, December 27, 2018, www.jpost.com/In-Jerusalem/Hi-tech-employees-who-reallydo-tech-575539. 4 Eytan Halon,“Israeli Exports Break Record in 2018,” The Jerusalem Post, January 8, 2019, www.jpost. com/Jpost-Tech/Business-and-Innovation/Israeli-exports-break-record-in-2018-576685.

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Amanda Furiasse 5 Ruth Eshel, “A Creative Process in Ethiopian-Israeli Dance: Eskesta Dance Theater and Beta Dance Troupe,” Dance Chronicle 34, No. 3 (September 2011): p. 359. 6 Ibid., p. 363. 7 Ibid. 8 Ibid., pp. 353–7. 9 For an example of the atmosphere, style, and feel of their early performances see Amos Shacham,“Beta Dance Troupe,”YouTube Video, 15:38, 2011, www.youtube.com/watch?v=xniqbmcYyLg. 10 J. Spencer Trimingham, Islam in Ethiopia (Abingdon: Routledge, 2013), p. 21. 11 Wendy Hui Kyong Chun, Programmed Visions: Software and Memory (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2011), p. 42. 12 Christian Ulrik Anderson,“Monopoly and the Logic of Sensation in Spacewar!,” in Fun and Software: Exploring Pleasure, Paradox and Pain in Computing, ed., Olga Goriunova (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2014), pp. 197–212. 13 Brian Holmes,“Future Map Or: How the Cyborgs Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Surveillance,” accessed October 3, 2019, https://brianholmes.wordpress.com/2007/09/09/future-map/. 14 Israel’s prime minister, Menachem Begin, decided to arrange an arms deal to Ethiopia in exchange for Ethiopian Jews’ migration to Israel. In Operation Moses, 8,000 Ethiopian Jews were airlifted to Israel. An additional 14,000 Ethiopian Jews were airlifted to Israel under Operation Solomon. Alexander De Waal details the lasting political, economic, and social consequences of war, famine, and migration on Ethiopian communities in Alexander De Waal, Evil Days:Thirty Years of War and Famine in Ethiopia (New York: Human Rights Watch, 1991). 15 Steven H. Resnicoff, “Autonomy in Jewish Law—In Theory and in Practice,” Journal of Law and Religion 24, No. 2 (2009): pp. 519–23. 16 David. S Ribner and Ruben Schindler,“The Crisis of Religious Identity Among Ethiopian Immigrants in Israel,” Journal of Black Studies 27, No. 1 (September 1996): pp. 105–9. 17 In 1973, the Sephardi Chief Rabbi Ovadia Yosef was already declaring,“I have come to the conclusion that Falashas are Jews who must be saved from absorption and assimilation. We are obliged to speed up their immigration to Israel and educate them in the spirit of the Torah, making them partners in the building of the Holy Land.” Rabbi Ovadia Yosef is said to have declared this in response to a question from the Ethiopian Jewish activist in Israel, Hezi Ovadia. However, the Chief Ashkenazi Rabbi, Shlomo Goren, flat out rejected the idea that Ethiopian Jews were in fact Jews. Ethiopian Jewish communities’ assumed relationship to the Oral Law thus emerged as a fundamental site of political contestation with their claim to Jewishness ultimately resting on their perceived relationship to the Oral Law. For events surrounding the ruling see Bard, From Tragedy to Triumph, pp. 20–50. 18 Jeff Halper,“The Absorption of Ethiopian Immigrants:A Return to the Fifties,” ed., Michael Ashkenazi and Alex Weingrod (New Brunswick:Transaction Publishers, 1987), pp. 104–12. 19 Adi Binhas,“‘AreYou Being Served?’The Jewish Agency and the Absorption of Ethiopian Immigration,” Israel Affairs 22, No. 2 (April 4, 2016): pp. 459–78. 20 Aryei Fishman, Judaism and Modernization on the Religious Kibbutz (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), p. 54 21 Lev Luis Grinberg, “1959—Wadi Salib Riots: Culminating a Decade of Ethnic Discrimination,” in Mo(ve)Ments of Resistance, Politics, Economy and Society in Israel/Palestine 1931–2013 (Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2014), p. 94. 22 Daniel Lefkowitz, Words and Stones: The Politics of Language and Identity in Israel (Cambridge: Oxford University Press, 2004). 23 For a video recording of the performance see Ruth Eshel,“What the Shoulders Remember,”YouTube Video, 18:05, 2006. www.youtube.com/watch?v=UktKfWrqisE. 24 Eshel,“A Creative Process in Ethiopian-Israeli Dance,” p. 90. 25 J. Adams, Magic Realism in Holocaust Literature:Troping the Traumatic Real (New York: Macmillan, 2011), p. 142. 26 Adesola Akinleye,“An Introduction,” in Narratives in Black British Dance: Embodied Practices, ed., Adesola Akinleye (New York: Springer, 2018), p. 6. 27 Trimingham, Islam in Ethiopia, p. 21. 28 Martin Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth: Writing and Oral Tradition in Palestinian Judaism 200 BCE–400 CE (Cambrdige: Oxford University Press, n.d.), p. 68. 29 Jacob Neusner, Invitation to the Talmud (Eugene:Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2003), p. 81.

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Immigration, social conflict, and art 30 Dege Feder, “BUG,” Youtube Video, 3:16, September 12, 2019, www.youtube.com/ watch?v=qLRcxzQ21hg. 31 Sumanth Gopinath and Pwyll ap Siôn, Rethinking Reich (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), p. 3. 32 Chun, Programmed Visions, 47. 33 Warren Sack, The Software Arts (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2019), p. 7. 34 Siddharth Kara, “Is Your Phone Tainted by the Misery of 35,000 Children in Congo’s Mines?,” The Guardian, October 12, 2018, www.theguardian.com/global-development/2018/oct/12/phone-mis ery-children-congo-cobalt-mines-drc.

Bibliography Adams, J. Magic Realism in Holocaust Literature:Troping the Traumatic Real (New York: Macmillan, 2011). Akinleye, Adesola. “An Introduction.” In Narratives in Black British Dance: EmbodiedPractices, ed., Adesola Akinleye (New York: Springer, 2018), pp. 1–18. Anderson, Christian Ulrik. “Monopoly and the Logic of Sensation in Spacewar!” In Fun and Software: Exploring Pleasure, Paradox and Pain in Computing, ed., Olga Goriunova (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2014), pp. 197–212. Assaf-Shapira,Yair.“Hi-Tech Employees Who Really Do Tech - Diaspora - Jerusalem Post.” The Jerusalem Post. Accessed December 27, 2018. www.jpost.com/In-Jerusalem/Hi-tech-employees-who-really-dotech-575539. Bard, Mitchell Geoffrey. From Tragedy to Triumph:The Politics Behind the Rescue of Ethiopian Jewry (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2002). Binhas, Adi.“‘Are You Being Served?’The Jewish Agency and the Absorption of Ethiopian Immigration.” Israel Affairs 22, No. 2 (2016): pp. 459–78. Black, Ian. “‘Haifa Is Essentially Segregated’: Cracks Appear in Israel’s Capital of Coexistence.” The Guardian. Accessed April 19, 2018, sec. Cities. www.theguardian.com/cities/2018/apr/19/haifa-isessentially-segregated-cracks-appear-in-israels-capital-of-coexistence. Chun,Wendy Hui Kyong. Programmed Visions: Software and Memory (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2011). Eshel, Ruth. “A Creative Process in Ethiopian-Israeli Dance: Eskesta Dance Theater and Beta Dance Troupe.” Dance Chronicle 34, No. 3 (2011): pp. 352–87. Fishman, Aryei. Judaism and Modernization on the Religious Kibbutz (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). Gopinath, Sumanth and Pwyll ap Siôn. Rethinking Reich (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019). Gradus,Yehuda, Shaul Krakover and Eran Razin. The Industrial Geography of Israel (Abingdon: Routledge, 2006). Grinberg, Lev Luis.“1959—Wadi Salib Riots: Culminating a Decade of Ethnic Discrimination.” In Mo(ve) Ments of Resistance Politics, Economy and Society in Israel/Palestine 1931–2013 (Boston, MA: Academic Studies Press, 2014), pp. 90–121. Halon, Eytan.“Israeli Exports Break Record in 2018.” The Jerusalem Post. Accessed January 8, 2019. www. jpost.com/Jpost-Tech/Business-and-Innovation/Israeli-exports-break-record-in-2018-576685. Halper, Jeff. “The Absorption of Ethiopian Immigrants: A Return to the Fifties.” In Ethiopian Jews and Israel, eds, Michael Ashkenazi and Alex Weingrod (New Brunswick:Transaction Publishing, 1987), pp. 104–12. Holmes, Brian. “Future Map Or: How the Cyborgs Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Surveillance.” Accessed October 3, 2019. https://brianholmes.wordpress.com/2007/09/09/future-map/. Hulsether, Lucia. “The Grammar of Racism: Religious Pluralism and the Birth of the Interdisciplines.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 86, No. 1 (2018): pp. 1–41. Jaffee, Martin. Torah in the Mouth:Writing and Oral Tradition in Palestinian Judaism 200 bce–400 ce (Cambridge: Oxford University Press, 2001). Kara, Siddharth.“Is Your Phone Tainted by the Misery of 35,000 Children in Congo’s Mines? | Siddharth Kara.” The Guardian.Accessed October 12, 2018, sec. Journal of Global development. www.theguardian. com/global-development/2018/oct/12/phone-misery-children-congo-cobalt-mines-drc. Lefkowitz, Daniel. Words and Stones: The Politics of Language and Identity in Israel (Cambridge: Oxford University Press, 2004). Lenkinski, Ori. “Beta Dance Troupe Gets Bugged.” Jerusalem Post. Accessed December 19, 2018. www. jpost.com/Israel-News/Beta-Dance-Troupe-gets-bugged-574819.

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Amanda Furiasse Mengesha,Astair G.M., Solomon Deressa and Yeshi Emabet Imagnu.“The Context of Ethiopian Weddings in North America: Ritualized Communication.” Northeast African Studies 3, No. 3 (1996): pp. 111–25. Neusner, Jacob. Invitation to the Talmud (Eugene, OR:Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2003). Resnicoff, Steven H.“Autonomy in Jewish Law-In Theory and in Practice.” Journal of Law and Religion 24, No. 2 (2009): pp. 507–46. Ribner, David. S and Ruben Schindler.“The Crisis of Religious Identity Among Ethiopian Immigrants in Israel.” Journal of Black Studies 27, No. 1 (1996): pp. 104–17. Sack, Warren. The Software Arts (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2019). Shelemay, Kay Kaufman. Music, Ritual, and Falasha History (East Lansing, MI: Michigan State University Press, 1989). Trimingham, J. Spencer. Islam in Ethiopia (Abingdon: Routledge, 2013). Waal, Alexander De. Evil Days:Thirty Years of War and Famine in Ethiopia (New York: Human Rights Watch, 1991). Weil, Shalva.“Religion, Blood and the Equality of Rights:The Case of Ethiopian Jews in Israel.” International Journal on Minority and Group Rights 4, No. 3–4 (1997): pp. 397–412.

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17 A LIBERATION NARRATIVE OF RELIGIOUS PRESENCE AMID THE PROTESTS Hong Kong theology Tsz Him Lai

Introduction In February, 2019, the Hong Kong government proposed a bill that, if passed, would have allowed the extradition of persons from the territory of Hong Kong to mainland China. Millions of people came out in protest of the proposed changes, and the bill was eventually withdrawn the following September. However, the protests morphed into a broader movement about protecting freedom, the demand for universal suffrage, and police accountability. From June 12, 2019, the first day when the police fired tear gas and rubber bullets at protesters, to the end of December 2019, the Hong Kong police force has fired over 16,000 canisters of tear gas and 10,000 rubber bullets throughout the city. Hong Kong has literally become a city of tears. The police have arrested more than 6,000 people.1 Hong Kongers have collectively mourned the amount of loss and suffering the protesters have experienced as a result of Hong Kong police violence.2 In Hong Kong, similar to other Chinese culture-dominant societies, Christianity is not the dominant religion. According to statistics from the Hong Kong government, out of a population of 7,200,000 (2018), there are approximately 379,000 Roman Catholics and 480,000 Protestants living in Hong Kong, comprising just under 12%.3 However, Christianity has been playing an influential role in awaking the people’s political consciousness since the history of British colonization.4 Without doubt, once again, the role of Christianity is even more striking in the 2019 protests. To examine the kind of role Christianity, including Protestants and Roman Catholics, has played in the 2019 protests, this chapter chronologically summarizes the participation of Christians in the protests. The data in this paper was collected from various sources on social media, including traditional newspapers and internet media. Facebook and Telegram, cloudbased instant messaging apps, are other crucial sources for first-hand information.

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The first section explains the connection between the Umbrella Movement in 2014 and the Anti-Extradition Bill Protests in 2019. The involvement of Christianity during the Umbrella Movement has developed into preliminary maneuvers for protests in 2019.The second section examines the role that Christianity has played in shaping the Anti-Extradition Bill Protests.The work of Christian participation can be divided into four different parts,5 with each action being distinct yet somewhat interconnected.The final section will give a summary and interpret how that Christian participation can be interpreted as a new cry of liberation theology in the context of Hong Kong.

Lessons of the Umbrella Movement in 2014 Since Hong Kong was reinstated to China from England in 1997, the frequency of massive protests calling for democracy has increased. In the fall of 2014, the citizens of Hong Kong engaged in a large-scale pro-democracy occupation movement. Protesters occupied the main streets of three different busy commercial districts of Hong Kong. The media labeled these protests the “Umbrella Movement” because protesters used their umbrellas as shields to protect themselves from pepper spray and tear gas fired by police.The occupation lasted for 79 days. Over a period of three months, many Protestant and Catholic individuals and communities participated in the protest movement.6 When the police first fired 87 canisters of tear gas into the crowds of protesters gathered outside the Central Government Complex (the headquarters of the government of Hong Kong) on 28 September 2014, some churches in Hong Kong Island were opened overnight to serve as shelters for the people. No matter who the protesters were, be they reporters or neighbors, they were all welcome to stay.Those churches organized prayer meetings for the community to join, and provided snacks, drinks, and first-aid supplies for people who needed them.Their hospitality became exemplary for how the church can support social movements in the context of Hong Kong. In addition to learning how to provide material support in protests, the second lesson Christians learned in the Umbrella Movement was how to provide spiritual support during the moments of protest. In the early stages of the Umbrella Movement, before the Hong Kong police began firing the tear gas, some Christian seminarians and college students organized public prayer gatherings several times outside the Central Government Complex. Eventually, protesters occupied three different zones. Some Protestant clergy formed an action group called Clergy Care Group (Jiaomu guanhuai tuan教牧關懷團) and aimed to provide pastoral care through their presence during the occupation.They set up a clergy station with a wooden cross in one of the occupied zones. Clergy from different denominations voluntarily took shifts in the station.7 The use of different digital and social media to mobilize people is another significant lesson for the Christians in the Umbrella Movement. Digital media, such as Facebook’s public pages or online news websites, allowed people to voice their opinions and share thoughts with one another.8 The extensive use of communication apps, particularly Telegram, helped people communicate and facilitated the exchange of information.Telegram allowed users to create a public channel or a private group for people to join anonymously. Protesters would enable these apps to receive real-time information about the police force and decide their next strategy. During the Umbrella Movement, the Clergy Care Group created their channel on Telegram and shared information to subscribers.This kind of online communication helped Christians from different denominations connect with one another and share perspectives and tactical information.

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A narrative of religious presence at the protests

The last essential lesson Christians learned from the Umbrella Movement is the agency of decentralized actions. The reason why there were three occupied zones in the Umbrella Movement was not because of the top-down decision made by social movement leaders, but because of an accidental movement and an improvisational action.When the Hong Kong police first fired tear gas into the crowds, some of the protesters decided to occupy other city areas in order to sustain the movement. Since protesters occupied three different zones, they developed these three zones like “villages” for people to both stay and visit.Tents and study tables were built for protesters, as some of them were students; a first-aid shelter was set up for emergencies; and a “Lennon Wall,” inspired by the original created in Prague, Czech Republic in 1980, was developed in one of the occupied zones. Instead of political graffiti, people wrote messages on sticky notes and stuck them on the wall. Protesters and citizens were doing different things depending on their interests and abilities. It was the first time Hong Kongers participated in decentralized and leaderless social protests. The spirit of these decentralized and leaderless actions also influenced Christians during the Umbrella Movement.A temporary, small tent chapel called “St. Francis Chapel on the street” was built in Mong Kok, one of the occupied zones. Inspired by the establishment of a Chinese temple of Guandi (the Chinese god of war) built in the same zone, a group of young Christians from different denominations built the St. Francis Chapel in order to show the presence of Christianity as well as the companionship with Guandi during the occupation.9 Different from the Clergy Care Group, this group of young Christians were just laypeople in their denominations. Their work shows the agency of laypersons using religious symbols and language to support the protest.

The role of Christianity in the Anti-Extradition Bill Protests of 2019 Some may argue that the Umbrella Movement should be marked as a failure because no progress was made in the democratization of Hong Kong’s voting system. However, the experience of opening churches as shelters, the use of social media for communication, and the spirit of decentralized and leaderless actions proved to be the foundation upon which Christians could find their own ways to support the Anti-Extradition Bill Protests of 2019. In the following section, I will describe how the participation of Christians in 2019 can be considered as an evolution of their work in the Umbrella Movement of 2014.

Signing Anti-Extradition Bill Petitions Before June 9, 2019, the first protest occurred with one million citizens demonstrating in the streets. Hundreds of petitions appeared online throughout the month of May in opposition to the government’s extradition bill. According to the documentation by Hong Kong Christian historian Dr. Fuk-Tsang Ying, the first online petition from Christians was on May 9, co-organized by 4 Protestant communities and signed by 4,500 people.10 Since then, other Protestant institutions, churches,11 and individual Catholics have all publicly expressed their concerns about the controversial extradition bill.12 They were concerned that the proposed bill would be a threat to freedom of speech and religion, putting at risk any ministers and laypeople in Hong Kong who have carried out missionary work related to mainland China. Most of the petitions were circulated online via Google Forms, which is a more manageable platform for organizers to collect signatures and deliver the message to the government and wider society. As a result, the convenience of using online platforms encouraged citizens

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to initiate petitions within their own working and living communities. While numerous petitions were linked to schools, professions, and neighborhoods, the same was true for churches. In addition to the Catholic Church, petitions launched from a broad range of Protestant denominations, including the Mainline, Evangelical, Fundamentalist, and Pentecostal churches.13 A bottom-up approach of expressing a political voice emerged in this protest, which did not happen in churches during the time of the Umbrella Movement. The anti-extradition bill awakened more Christians to express their political opinion within their faith communities.

Organizing public prayer meetings On June 9, 2019, the first day when one million citizens marched in Hong Kong, both Catholics and Protestants organized a joint public prayer meeting before the start of the march (see Appendix 1).At night, three other Protestant groups, namely the Hong Kong Protestant Clergy Co-signing Committee (xianggang jidujiao jiaomu lianshu chouweihui香港基督教教牧聯署籌委會), the Clergy Care Group, and the Christian Social Concern Fellowship, launched another public prayer meeting, this time at Tamar Park, a public area next to the government headquarters that was also the destination of the march.These two public prayer meetings marked the first day in which Christians were noticeably present in the protest. After the June 9th demonstration, the government did not show any goodwill in undertaking negotiations with citizens. The government continued to seek the passing of the second reading of the extradition bill on June 12, 2019. The public demonstrations intensified in the days between June 9 and June 12.The student unions from seven universities asked students to go on strike from their classes and encircle the government headquarters on June 12, as another demonstration was called for that day. To show solidarity, the three aforementioned Protestant action groups continued their public prayer meeting, which lasted for 72 hours.According to Hong Kong’s Public Order Ordinance, all gatherings or assemblies must be launched with a permit issued by the government; however, this did not apply for religious gatherings. As a result, this prayer meeting not only became a religious gathering for Christians but was also the only activity the public could participate in outside of the government headquarters during that time. On the night of June 11, the prayer meeting became a buffer zone between the protesters and the police.When the crowd started to sing “Sing Hallelujah to the Lord”14 as their last song, they repeated it for nine hours.This action helped to release the tension between the protesters and the police because the police did not know how to react to this situation. In the nine hours of singing, Christians and non-Christians both joined together in order to show their intention of staying peaceful. Although the police eventually fired tear gas and rubber bullets the following afternoon, this song successfully prevented violence for at least one night and became one of the popular songs for Christians and non-Christians during the protests.15 One of the pastors who organized the prayer meeting commented on that night, It was the work of God … the Hymn has an amazing power, a gentle power. It is the power of the powerless, like Jesus crucified on the cross, defeating death. We are not that great, but we use our gentle power to defend against the police with full gear (my own translation).16 The witnesses of that night encouraged Christians to organize more public prayer meetings. From June to August, at least 27 public prayer meetings (see Appendix 1) were held, almost 2 times every

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week. Most of them were organized by the groups which had been active since the Umbrella Movement, such as the Clergy Care Group and the Justice and Peace Commission of the HK Catholic Diocese (xianggang tianzhujiao zhengyi heping weiyuanhui香港天主教正義和平委員會). However, there were also some new groups who participated, such as those who had launched the prayer meetings in Chater Garden every Saturday between July 13 and August 24 (see Appendix 1). These prayer meetings demonstrated several characteristics of the protest. First, the organizers were anonymous laypeople in the church. The tendency of the decentralized and leaderless action was also happening among Christians.The privilege of organizing a prayer meeting was no longer a privilege only for the clergy. Second, the organizers created a public channel on Telegram to deliver the most updated information. Participants could receive information continuously, even after the prayer gatherings.This way of communication, now adopted by the Christians, was common among other protesters.

Opening the church for protesters Compared to the Umbrella Movement, in which there were only three specific occupied zones, clashes between protesters and police occurred throughout the entire city in the 2019 protests. Protesters did not adopt the tactic of occupation as in the prior movement. Rather, protesters demonstrated with fluidly and flexibly. Like the famous slogan frequently used in the protest, “be (like) water,”17 protesters not only marched to the government headquarters but also started rallies in different areas in order to make it harder for the police to arrest them. Protesters fully embraced this logic of protest, especially after the occupation of the Legislative Council on July 1, the anniversary of the transfer of sovereignty over Hong Kong from Great Britain to China. On that night, protesters successfully occupied the Legislative Council, vandalized the building, and defaced walls with graffiti,18 and the fear of arrest lead protesters to organize rallies all over the city. The police intensified their use of weapons to repress the new methods of protest.They fired tear gas and rubber bullets on a regular basis and used water cannons to fire blue dye with a painful pepper solution. In retaliation, protesters dressed in all black with protective gear, making it more difficult for the police to identify them. Some protesters threw Molotov cocktails at the police, creating a temporary barrier of fire between the two sides.A new cycle of violent protests became a weekly activity. On the weekends, marches and assemblies would begin in peace, but, by nightfall, clashes occurred between the police and radical protesters. To help citizens and protesters avoid the stinging and burning sensation from the tear gas, some churches would open their buildings to serve as shelters for people to rest.While protests were launched out of the government headquarters located in Admiralty,19 churches were open when the clashes moved into their neighborhood (see Appendix 2). Similar to the pattern of signing anti-extradition bill petitions, the churches who opened their buildings to the public were from different denominations.The determining factor in the opening up of a given church was dependent on the individual will of pastors and the congregation, rather than the political standpoint of their denominations. During the 2014 Umbrella Movement, the pro-Beijing political parties and newspapers criticized the actions of the churches.20 The same thing happened again in 2019. On September 19 and October 2,Wenweipo21 and Takungpao,22 two Chinese government-owned newspapers, accused three denominations of hiding protesters from the police, naming them “rioters.”These three denominations, namely the Christian and Missionary Alliance, the Methodist Church of Hong Kong, and the Catholic Church, all helped protesters in the 2019 protests.23 Although

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four pastors made a statement not long after the accusation emphasizing that their churches were (and still are as of this writing) open for public use, including both the police and citizens,24 the fear of harassment has challenged the churches to rethink whether they should open their buildings to protesters. Since those accusations, some churches have opened their spaces secretly, without announcing their doing so online.

Pastoral care in the frontline of protests After seeing the effects of singing “Sing Hallelujah to the Lord,” Christianity has received a better reputation among protesters. It seems more natural for clergy to speak to protesters on the frontlines. On the evening of June 16, when two million citizens marched on the streets, Rev. Joseph Chi-Sing Ha, Auxiliary Bishop of the Catholic Church, made a persuasive speech to protesters in front of the government headquarters. He said, Where the sheep are, the pastor should be also! The pastor is not merely among the sheep, but also needs to lead them. During the pastor’s interaction with the sheep, the pastor will know more about his (or her) identity, and recognize the difficulty and the pain that the sheep are suffering (my own translation).25 His speech clearly demonstrates the role of Christianity in the protest.Action groups such as the Clergy Care Group and Protect the Children (a volunteer group organized by Good Neighbour North District Church [hao linshe beiqu jiaohui 好鄰舍北區教會]), tried to mediate between police and protesters. During tense moments, they stood between the two sides and asked them to calm down in order to prevent further clashes.Their intention may be called noble but it was also dangerous to all involved. Some of these Christians were arrested, beaten,26 and risked being shot by the police.27 Their work did not successfully shift the protest far from the use of violence, but their presence made the protesters feel that they were not alone.

Discussion and conclusion In their book, Contentious Politics, Charles Tarrow and Sidney Tilly predict that the conflict between Hong Kong citizens and the Chinese government “will endure for years—perhaps generations.”28 Five years after the Umbrella Movement, their prediction came true. Hong Kong citizens are demanding political reform once again.The original claim at the beginning of the Hong Kong 2019 protest was the withdrawal of the extradition bill. However, given the escalation of violence from both sides, notably as the police used excessive violence against protesters, reporters, and innocent citizens, protesters have changed their political claims to a broader movement about protecting freedom, the demand for universal suffrage, and police accountability. But this time, in 2019, the cycles of conflict are even longer and the scale of the protests is even greater.The protests have transformed from a single issue to broader anti-authoritarian protests.29 As this volume goes to publication, the protests continue.There is no evidence that Hong Kong people will stop protesting until an independent inquiry into police brutality and political reforms occurs. In the current situation, as long as the Hong Kong government allows the repression of protesters through direct violence by police, the protesters and the civic society will not be silent. The use of digital media and the decentralized and leaderless practice are the keys to the mobilization of Hong Kong protesters. In the mainstream media, most of them describe the

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Hong Kong protesters as leaderless, but perhaps as Joe Raelin suggests, “leaderful” is a better word to describe the decentralized practice.30 Although the word “leaderless” is correct to use in understanding the participatory and democratic values among protesters, it does not mean that there is no leadership among the protesters. In the case of the 2019 Hong Kong Protests, instead of no leadership, every protester is collectively participating in the leadership of the movement throughout the extensive use of digital media. Everyone can contribute their leadership skills and abilities through a variety of activities. Similar to that of the protests, the “leaderful” practice is emerging among different denominations in Hong Kong Christianity among both Catholics and Protestants. From launching anti-extradition bill petitions, singing “Sing Hallelujah to the Lord,” to being with protesters in the frontline of protests, clergy and laypeople demonstrated their agency in using their religious identity and knowledge to support the movement. The solidarity displayed among the clergy, laypeople, and protesters embodies the praxis of nonviolent resistance.Their leadership directs the community to engage in peaceful protests. Christianity, as it did during the Umbrella Movement, served as a primary resource to nurture the protest. Regardless of religious affiliations, clergy and laypeople connected Christians, non-Christians, and protesters to defend against injustice and affirm human dignity. Among the discussion of the relationship between religion and social movements lies one of the paradoxical characteristics that religion can either serve as social tranquilizers or social agitators, mobilizing or demobilizing people to participate in social movements.31 Smith proposes that religion can be disruptive to society, offering religious motivation, moral imperatives, a sense of belonging, and organizational resources to facilitate social movements.32 In the case of Hong Kong, as the previous paragraphs illustrate, Christianity has shown that it can also offer tremendous material resources such as first-aid kits, safe shelter, and pre-existing communication networks, as well as provide symbolic resources and emotional support to sustain the protest over time. Hymns and prayer meetings are no longer just religious practices in the church—they can also serve as a political manifestos in front of the public. Social movements and liberation theologies have a dialectical relationship. In the history of liberation theologies—including black theology, feminist theology, and queer theology— one of the common themes is that that they are born from the struggle of the oppressed, namely black, female, and LGBTQI people. The formation of all those liberation theologies affirms the identity of the oppressed in spite of the secular world and the Christian tradition. The voice of the oppressed matters to the theological reflection and their social movements inform theology.33 To what extent can we argue that the political actions of Christianity in Hong Kong, as a “leaderful” movement, can be theorized in the construction of a Hong Kong theology? First, we need to imagine what a Hong Kong theology can be. Instead of using the term “liberation theology of Hong Kong,” I suggest to use “Hong Kong theology.”The reason for putting Hong Kong in front of theology is that it allows Hong Kong’s subjectivity to be emphasized in the process of theological reflection. Similar to other liberation theologies, Hong Kong theology uses the lens of being a Hong Konger to reinterpret the understanding of God and the meaning of being a Christ-follower. Under the current political situation, Hong Kong theology serves to affirm the pain of being a Hong Konger under the control of the Chinese authoritarian regime. Hong Kong theology advocates any protest, which fights for freedom and human dignity, as God-given to God’s people. From the Umbrella Movement to the 2019 protest, besides the continuity of fighting for democracy, another consistent theme in these two protests is about the identity of being a

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Hong Konger.According to the survey conducted by the Hong Kong Public Opinion Research Institute, the personal identity index of being a “Hong Kong citizen” reached a 10-year high, at 82.63 on a 100-point scale.34 At the same time, in 2019, the index identifying as a “Chinese citizen” touched a new low, at 57.27 on a 100-point scale.35 The results of the survey pinpoint a series of questions that the people of Hong Kong must answer for themselves; particularly, what does it mean to be a Hong Konger? Why is being a Hong Konger more important than being Chinese? And, to Christians, the question will be to ask, what is the correlation of being a Hong Konger and being Christian? If the present political reality considers Hong Kong to be a victim of colonization, such as the lack of democracy in the future, the question to Christians will be, what kind of role should Christianity play in affirming the dignity and cultural identity of Hong Kongers? Brian Kai-ping Leung, a Hong Kong Ph.D. student in Political Science, a Christian, and the only protester who took off his mask after protesters occupied the Legislative Council building on July 1, 2019 (making his arrest more likely as his identity was revealed), tries to answer what being a Hong Konger means to him: Only then did I realize what really connects Hongkongers, apart from our common language and values, is the pain we share … Feeling pain makes your life more truthful. This political subjectivity is a recognition of the Hongkongers’ dignity, which is the most seminal trait of the movement. This will characterize Hong Kong's future resistance.36 To further collaborate with his thought, I suggest that Hong Kong theology should start by acknowledging the pain of the protesters and conceptualizing their experience with the suffering God.While pastors and laypeople have been in the frontline of protests, enduring police brutality, Hong Kong theology should bear the responsibility of commemorating their experience and also deliver the liberative message of the Christian narrative. In her book Regarding the Pain of Others, Susan Sontag asked an ethical question to her readers, including Leung, myself, and all Hong Kong Christians: Compassion is an unstable emotion. It needs to be translated into action, or it withers. The question is what to do with the feelings that have been aroused, the knowledge that has been communicated. If one feels that there is nothing “we” can do—but who is that “we”?—and nothing “they” can do either—and who are “they”?—then one starts to get bored, cynical, apathetic.37 One of the strengths of the 2019 protests is the emergence of “leaderful” practice. Joe Raelin suggests that there are “four C’s” in leaderful practice, namely, collectiveness, concurrency, collaboration, and compassion.38 To echo Leung’s vision of sharing pain and to answer Sontag’s question on who we are to take action, I ask our Hong Kong Christians to commit to preserving the dignity of every single member living in the city, regardless of background, race, or gender. While scholars in Hong Kong suggest that Hong Kong is at the heart of a new Cold War,39 being on the frontlines to challenge the authoritarian regime, we must start to construct our Hong Kong theology and share the pain of the city as part of our collective pain we suffer together. Note:As this book goes to publication in 2020, the protests are continuing.

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Appendices Appendix 1. Public prayers in Hong Kong Island from June to August in 2019 Date

Time

June 9 (Sunday)

2:30–3:15pm

June 9 (Sunday)

June 10 (Monday)

June 11 (Tuesday)

June 11-12 (TuesdayWednesday) June 12 (Wednesday)

June 16 (Sunday)

June 16 (Sunday)

Location

Organization(s)

Justice & Peace Commission of the The pedestrian HK Catholic Diocese, Umbrella road in front City Cyberchurch, Christians For of Hong Kong Hong Kong Society (jidutu guanhuai Central Library xianggang xuehui基督徒關懷香港學會), Christian Social Concern Fellowship, Good Neighbour North District Church, Hong Kong Christian Institute (xianggang jidutu xuehui香港基督徒學會), Ecumenical Pastoral Platform for Youth (heyi qingnian muyang pingtai 合一青年牧養平台) Tamar Park (next Hong Kong Protestant Clergy Co-signing 8:00–9:00pm Committee (xianggang jidujiao jiaomu to Central lianshu chouweihui香港基督教教牧聯 Government 署籌委會), Clergy Care Group, Complex) Christian Social Concern Fellowship Hong Kong Protestant Clergy Co-signing 8:00–9:00pm Tamar Park Committee, Clergy Care Group, Christian Social Concern Fellowship Hong Kong Protestant Clergy Co-signing Tamar Park 8:00–9:00pm Committee, Clergy Care Group, Christian Social Concern Fellowship Hong Kong Federation of Catholic 10:00pm– 9:30am Tamar Park Students (xianggang tianzhujiao dazhuan lianhui 香港天主教大專聯會) Hong Kong Protestant Clergy Co-signing 7:30–8:30am Central Committee, Clergy Care Group, Government Christian Social Concern Fellowship Complex East Wing Forecourt Justice & Peace Commission of the HK Culture Plaza 9:30–10:30am Catholic Diocese, Diocesan Youth in Central Commission Hong Kong (jiaoqu qingnian and Western mumin weiyuanhui教區青年牧民委員會) District Promenade Justice & Peace Commission of the HK The pedestrian 2:15–2:45pm Catholic Diocese, Diocesan Youth road in front Commission Hong Kong, Hong of Hong Kong Kong Federation of Catholic Students, Central Library Franciscan Order Hong Kong JPIC Group (fangjihui zhengyi heping zu 方濟會正義和平組),Youth Boiling Point (fei dian沸點)

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June 16 (Sunday) June 23 (Sunday) July 1 (Monday)

July 1 (Monday)

July 1 (Monday)

July 5 (Friday)

July 6 (Monday)

July 13 (Saturday)

July 20 (Saturday)

July 20 (Saturday)

July 27 (Saturday)

The ground floor Umbrella City Cyberchurch of Hong Kong Central Library Hong Kong Protestant Clergy Co-signing 4:00–5:00pm Chater Garden Committee Hong Kong Protestant Clergy Co-signing 6:00–7:00pm Tamar Park Committee Hong Kong Protestant Clergy Co-signing 12:30–1:30pm Causeway Committee, Clergy Care Group Bay East Point Road Pedestrian Zone Justice & Peace Commission of the HK 2:00–2:45pm Victoria Park Catholic Diocese, Christians For Hong Bandstand Kong Society, Hong Kong Christian Institute, Hong Kong Federation of Catholic Students, Christian Social Concern Fellowship, Hong Kong Catholic Commission For Labour Affairs (xianggang tianzhujiao laogong shiwu weiyu anhui香港天主教勞工 事務委員會) 2:30–3:00pm The ground floor Umbrella City Cyberchurch of Hong Kong Central Library Good Neighbour North District Church 7:30–8:30pm Admiralty Centre (Exit to Harcourt Road) A group of Catholic laypeople and clergy Admiralty 5:00–7:00pm Centre (Exit to Harcourt Road) A group of Christians 7:00–10:00pm Chater Garden, then walking to Government House Clergy Care Group 10:30am–12:00pm Chater Garden, then walking to to Government House 7:00–10:00pm Chater Garden, A group of Christians then walking to to Government House A group of Christians 7:00–10:00pm Chater Garden, then walking to to Government House

2:30–3:00pm

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A narrative of religious presence at the protests August 3 (Saturday) 7:00–10:00pm

August 8 (Thursday)

7:30–9:00pm

August 10 (Saturday)

7:00–10:00pm

August 17 (Saturday)

7:00–10:00pm

August 23 (Friday) 7:00–9:00pm August 24 7:00–10:00pm (Saturday )

August 30 (Friday) 7:00–10:00pm

A group of Christians Chater Garden, then walking to to Government House Justice & Peace Commission of the Catholic HK Catholic Diocese, Hong Kong Cathedral Federation of Catholic Students, of the Diocesan Youth Commission Hong Immaculate Kong, St. Margaret’s Church Social Conception to Concern Group (shengmajiali datang The Court of guanshezu 聖瑪加利大堂關社組), Final Appeal St. Benedict Parish Social Concern Building Group (shengbendutang guanshezu 聖本篤堂關社組) Chater Garden, A group of Christians then walking to Government House Chater Garden, A group of Christians then walking to Government House A group of Christians Chater Garden A group of Christians Chater Garden, then walking to Government House Aspire,Worship Nations (bolihai yuetuan Statue Square 玻璃海樂團)

Sources: Facebook posts from the Christian Times (shidai luntan 時代論壇); telegram messages from Christian Information Channel (https://t.me/Christian_AntiELAB_823) Appendix 2.The number of churches opened as shelters from June to August in 2019 Date

District

Number of churches

June 9 (Sunday) June 12 (Wednesday) June 21 (Friday) July 1 (Monday) July 7 (Sunday) July 13 (Saturday) July 14 (Sunday) July 21 (Sunday)

Admiralty Admiralty Admiralty Admiralty Mong Kok Sheung Shui Shatin Admiralty Yuen Long Yuen Long Yuen Long Sheung Wan and Admiralty Tai Kok Tsui

4 3 3 3 5 6 4 3 6 7 6 5 6

July 22 (Monday) July 27 (Saturday) July 28 (Sunday) August 3 (Saturday)

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August 4 (Sunday)

August 5 (Monday)

August 10 (Saturday) August 11 (Sunday)

August 17 (Saturday)

August 18 (Sunday) August 24 (Saturday) August 25 (Sunday)

Yau Tsim Mong Tseung Kwan O Sheung Wan and Sai Wan Wong Tai Sin Admiralty Yau Tsim Mong Wong Tai Sin Tsuen Wan Shatin Tai Po Tuen Mun Tai Po Sham Shui Po Yau Tsim Mong Hong Kong Island Mong Kok Hung Hom and To Kwa Wan Kowloon City Wong Tai Sin Admiralty Kwun Tong Kwai Tsing Tsuen Wan

11 4 5 1 1 8 6 6 3 9 3 9 10 4 5 1 5 1 1 1 10 3 7

Sources: Facebook posts from Christian Times (shidai luntan 時代論壇)

Notes 1 Kris Cheng,“Hong Kong Police Used Crowd Control Weapons 30,000 Times since June; Over 6,000 Arrested,” Hong Kong Free Press, December 10, 2019, accessed January 15, 2020, https://hongkongfp. com/2019/12/10/hong-kong-police-used-crowd-control-weapons-30000-times-since-june-6000arrests/. 2 For details of Hong Kong Police violence, please see the report “How Not to Police a Protest: Unlawful Use of Force by Hong Kong Police” written by Amnesty International, accessed January 15, 2020, www.amnesty.org/download/Documents/ASA1705762019ENGLISH.pdf. 3 For details, please see “Hong Kong: The Facts—Religion and Custom” written by Home Affairs Bureau,HKSAR,accessed January 15,2020,www.gov.hk/en/about/abouthk/factsheets/docs/religion. pdf. 4 Carl T. Smith, Chinese Christians: Elites, Middlemen, and the Church in Hong Kong (Hong Kong; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985); Beatrice Leung and Shun-hing Chan, Changing Church and State Relations in Hong Kong, 1950–2000 (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2003).; Justin K.H. Tse, “Grounded Theologies: ‘Religion’ and the ‘Secular’ in Human Geography,” Progress in Human Geography 38, No. 2 (2014): pp. 201–20. 5 In this chapter, I will use “Christian” more often than “the church” or “churches” because I want to distinguish participants as individuals rather than members of an institution. Broadly speaking, the meaning of “church” is not about a building, but of a group of people. However, using the term “church” to generalize all Christian participation in the protests would be problematic because not all Christians support the protest.The Chief Executive (city leader) of Hong Kong who proposed the extradition bill, Carrie Lam, is a Catholic. Moreover, even within one denomination; for example, the Catholic Church in Hong Kong, multiple voices of the protests exist, from giving their full support or remaining neutral, to those who disagree entirely. In this polarized situation, using “Christian” may be the appropriate term to describe how participants act on their own agency instead of an institutional mandate. 6 For theological reflections on the relationship between Christianity and the Movement, see Justin K.H. Tse and Jonathan Y. Tan, eds, Theological Reflections on the Hong Kong Umbrella Movement (New York:

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7 8 9 10

11

12 13

14 15

16

17 18 19 20 21 22

Palgrave Macmillan, 2016).; Nancy Ng and Andreas Fulda,“The Religious Dimension of Hong Kong’s Umbrella Movement,” Journal of Church & State 60, No. 3 (Summer 2018): pp. 377–97. Shun-hing Chan, “The Protestant Community and the Umbrella Movement in Hong Kong,” InterAsia Cultural Studies 16, No. 3 (2015): pp. 389–90. Francis L.F. Lee and Joseph M. Chan, Media and Protest Logics in the Digital Era:The Umbrella Movement in Hong Kong (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018). Chan,“The Protestant Community and the Umbrella Movement in Hong Kong,” pp. 390–92. Namely, those four Protestant communities were: Clergy Care Group, Umbrella City Cyberchurch (sancheng wangshang jiaohui 傘城網上教會), Christian Social Concern Fellowship (xianggang jidutu sheguan tuanqi香港基督徒社關團契), and Christians to the World (lidi jidutu 蒞地基督徒). For the online petition, see “A Joint Petition of Christian’s Concern on Extradition Bill,” accessed January 15, 2020, https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1dJvi-tKrLcOr60BIsNpSqhl3HzplSDwVNhksNEW3Uus/ viewform?edit_requested=true. Those communities were the Clergy Group of the Hong Kong Council of the Church of Christ in China (xianggang zhounghua jidujaiohui xianggang quhui shenxue muzhibu zhiyuanhui 香港中華基督教會香港區會神學牧職部職員會), Executive Committee of the Hong Kong Christian Council (Jidujaio xiejinhui zhiweihui 基督教協進會執委會), Justice and Social Concern Committee of the Hong Kong Christian Council (xianggang jidujiao xiejinhui shehuigongyi yu minsheng guanzhu weiyuanhui 香港基督教協進會社會公義與民生關注委員會), Hong Kong Christian Service (xianggang jidujaio fuwuchu 香港基督教服務處), The Clergy Group of the Methodist Church, Hong Kong (xundaoweili lianhe jiaohui mushibu 循道衛理聯 合教會牧師部), Hong Kong Association of Christian Organizations (xianggang jidujiao jigou xiehui 香港基督教機構協會), and Cumberland Presbyterian Church Hong Kong Presbytery (Jinbalun zhanglaohui xianggang quhui 金巴崙長老會香港區會). Ying Fuk-Tsang, “Fanxiuli yundong zhong di xianggang jidu zongjiao” 反修例運動中的香港基督宗教 [Hong Kong Christianity in Anti-Extradition Bill Protests] (in Chinese), Initium Media, October 18, 2019, accessed January 15, 2020, https://theinitium.com/article/20191018-opinion-hk-protest-christian/. Among the denominations were the Methodist, Lutheran, Anglican, Baptist, Cumberland Presbyterian Church Hong Kong Presbytery, Tsung Tsin Mission of Hong Kong (jidujiao xianggang xhongzhenhui 基督教香港崇真會), Christian and Missionary Alliance (xuandaohui 宣道會), Evangelical Free Church of China (zhonghua jidujaio bodaohui 中華基督教播道會), The Chinese Rhenish Church (zhonghua jidujaio lixianhui中華基督教禮賢會), Swatow Christian Church (chaoren shengmingtang潮人生命堂), Peace Evangelical Centre (pingan fuyintang平安福音堂), Hong Kong Tsz Kwong Bethel Church (香港伯特利教會慈光堂), Ling Liang Worldwide Evangelistic Mission (靈糧堂),Assemblies of God (shenzhaohui神召會), Hong Kong Pentecostal Holiness Church (wuxunjie shengjiehui五旬節聖潔會). Linda Stassen-Benjamin, a US composer, wrote this song in 1974. It is a simple praise song with five words, as the title suggests. For details of this song, see William Petersen and Ardythe Petersen, The Complete Book of Hymns (Carol Stream:Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., 2006), p. 74. Jessie Pang and Marius Zaharia, “‘Sing Hallelujah to the Lord’ an unlikely anthem of Hong Kong protests,” Reutuers, June 18, 2019, accessed January 15, 2020, www.reuters.com/article/us-hongkongextradition-protesters-halle/sing-hallelujah-to-the-lord-an-unlikely-anthem-of-hong-kong-protestsidUSKCN1TJ16T. Yeung ji-kei, “ Yundong zhong di jiuhuo mushi tamen dang jingcha chang shengshi zhiyuan nianqingren” 運動中的「救火」牧師：他們擋警察、唱聖詩、支援年輕人 [Pastors in the protest:They defend police, sing hymns and support young people] (in Chinese), Initium Media, July 05, 2019, accessed January 15, 2020, https://theinitium.com/article/20190705-hongkong-chritian-protest-pastors/. “Be Water, My friend” is a famous quote by Hong Kong Kung-Fu star, Bruce Lee. A well-known graffiti on the night was “it was you who taught me peaceful marches do not work.” Admiralty is the name of the central business district on the Hong Kong Island of Hong Kong. For details of the Umbrella Movement, please see Chan,“The Protestant Community and the Umbrella Movement in Hong Kong,” p. 389. Wen Sen and Xiao JingYuan,“Baotu xian jingfang chongwei xuandaohui yigong bi suo” 暴徒陷警方重圍 宣道會疑供庇所 [A Church is suspicious to hide rioters] (in Chinese), Wen Wei Po, Spetember 19, 2019, accessed January 15, 2020, http://paper.wenweipo.com/2019/09/19/HK1909190001.html. Zhang Zhen and DuanYuanFeng,“Jiaohui bian baotu sidou you shanhuan you liangchong”教會變暴徒私竇 有衫換 有涼沖 [The church is a hiding place for rioters to change clothes and take showers] (in

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23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

31 32 33 34 35 36

37 38 39

Chinese), Ta Kung Pao, October 2, 2019, accessed January 15, 2020, www.takungpao.com.hk/news/ 232109/2019/1002/356570.html. Wenweipo and Takungpao both are owned by the same company, Hong Kong Ta Kung Wen Wei Media Group, which is also fully controlled by the Liaison Office of the Central Government (the Chinese government). “Public Statment on Opening Churches,” The Methodist Church, Hong Kong, October 3, 2019, accessed January 15, 2020, www.methodist.org.hk/media/filehotlink/2019/10/04/S191003-ChurchesOpen.pdf. Bishop Joseph Ha Chi-shing, “Yang zai na li muzhe jiu yao zai nali” 羊在哪裏,牧者就要在哪裏! [Where our sheep are, the pastor should be also!] (in Chinese), Salt and Light Media, June 17, 2019, accessed January 15, 2020, https://saltandlighttv.org/blogfeed/getpost.php?id=22885&language=ch. One of the volunteers from Protect the Children was brutally beaten by the police.The police denied their action and claimed this victim as a “yellow object” instead of a human being. A pastor spread his arms and said “Do not open fire” in front of a policeman, with his gun drawn. He became a symbol of courage and received the title,“Hong Kong tank man.” Charles Tilly and Sidney Tarrow, Contentious Politics, Second Edn (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), pp. 89–93. Francis L F Lee et al.,“Hong Kong’s Summer of Uprising: From Anti-Extradition to Anti-Authoritarian Protests,” The China Review 19 No. 4 (2019): pp. 1–32. Leaderful practice is described as “(each team member) is full of leadership … everyone is participating in the leadership of the entity both collectively and concurrently; in other words, not just sequentially, but all together and at the same time.” For details, see Joe Ralein, “From Leadership-as-Practice to Leaderful Practice,” Leadership 7, No. 2 (2011): p. 9. Tao Yu, “Agitators, Tranquilizers, or Something Else: Do Religious Groups Increase or Decrease Contentious Collective Action?,” Religions; Basel 9, No. 7 (2018): pp. 1–12. Christian Smith,“Correcting a Curious Neglect, or Bringing Religion Back in,” in Disruptive Religion: The Force of Faith in Social Movement Activism, ed., Christian Smith (New York: Routledge, 1996), pp. 9–22. Miguel A. De La Torre, “Introduction,” in Introducing Liberative Theologies, ed., Miguel A. De La Torre (New York: Orbis Books, 2015), xxiii. “Identity Index of Being HongKongers(Half-yearly average)(12/2008-12/2019),” Hong Kong Public Opinion Research Institute, accessed January 15, 2020, www.hkupop.hku.hk/pori_table_chart/Ethnic Identity/Q002I/Q002I_halfyr_chart.html. “Identity Index of Being Chinese(Half-yearly average)(12/2008-12/2019),” Hong Kong Public Opinion Research Institute, accessed January 15, 2020, www.hkupop.hku.hk/pori_table_chart/EthnicIdentity/ Q003I/Q003I_halfyr_chart.html. Humans of Hong Kong, “Hong Kong Belongs to Everyone Who Shares Its Pain: The Vision of July 1st’s Only Unmasked Protester,” Stand News, November 17, 2019, accessed January 15, 2020, https:// thestandnews.com/politics/hong-kong-belongs-to-everyone-who-shares-its-pain-the-vision-of-july1st-s-only-unmasked-protester/. Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others, First Paperback Edn (New York: Picador, 2004), 101. Raelin,“From Leadership-as-Practice to Leaderful Practice,” p. 10. Benny Yiu-Ting Tai and Eric Yan-Ho Lai, eds, One Country, One System (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Civil Hun, 2019).

Bibliography Chan, Shun-Hing. “The Protestant Community and the Umbrella Movement in Hong Kong.” Inter-Asia Cultural Studies 16, No. 3 (2015): pp. 380–95. De La Torre, Miguel A., ed., Introducing Liberative Theologies (New York: Orbis Books, 2015). Lee, Francis L.F. and Joseph M. Chan. Media and Protest Logics in the Digital Era:The Umbrella Movement in Hong Kong (New York: Oxford University Press, 2018). Lee, Francis L.F., Samson Yuen, Gary Tang, and Edmund W. Cheng. “Hong Kong’s Summer of Uprising: From Anti-Extradition to Anti-Authoritarian Protests.” China Review 19, No. 4 (2019): pp. 1–32. Leung, Beatrice and Shun-Hing Chan. Changing Church and State Relations in Hong Kong, 1950–2000 (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2003). Ng, Nancy and Andreas Fulda.“The Religious Dimension of Hong Kong’s Umbrella Movement.” Journal of Church & State 60, No. 3 (2018): pp. 377–97.

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A narrative of religious presence at the protests Petersen, William and Ardythe Petersen. The Complete Book of Hymns (Carol Stream: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., 2006). Raelin, Joe.“From Leadership-as-Practice to Leaderful Practice.” Leadership 7, No. 2 (2011): pp. 195–211. Smith, Carl T. Chinese Christians: Elites, Middlemen, and the Church in Hong Kong (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985). Smith, Christian, ed., Disruptive Religion:The Force of Faith in Social Movement Activism. First Edn (New York: Routledge, 1996). Sontag, Susan. Regarding the Pain of Others. First Paperback Edn (New York: Picador, 2004). Tai, Benny Yiu-Ting and Eric Yan-Ho Lai, eds, One Country, One System (Hong Kong: Hong Kong Civil Hun, 2019). Tilly, Charles and Sidney Tarrow. Contentious Politics. Second Edn (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015). Tse, Justin K.H. “Grounded Theologies: ‘Religion’ and the ‘Secular’ in Human Geography.” Progress in Human Geography 38, No. 2 (2014): pp. 201–20. Tse, Justin K.H. and Jonathan Y.Tan, eds, Theological Reflections on the Hong Kong Umbrella Movement (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016). Yu, Tao. “Agitators, Tranquilizers, or Something Else: Do Religious Groups Increase or Decrease Contentious Collective Action?” Religions 9, No. 7 (2018): pp. 1–12.

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PART III

Contemporary issues in religion and cities

18 RELIGIOUS AGENCY IN THE DYNAMICS OF GENTRIFICATION Moving in, moving out, and staying put in Philadelphia Kristin E. Holmes

On Sundays in one of Philadelphia’s most gentrified neighborhoods,1 religious worship is a reflection of what happens when a community is transformed from a series of forgotten and neglected city blocks to a gleaming haven for new construction. Like neighbors themselves, new congregations attracted by change have moved in, old ones who can’t afford to stay have moved out, and others have stubbornly remained despite the changing landscape. Graduate Hospital, a neighborhood named for a now-defunct hospital just south of downtown Philadelphia, is like the Shaw section of Washington, DC,2 and Harlem in New York,3 transformed from the underappreciated wallflower to the new Instagram star whose phone number everyone wants in their contacts. The Philadelphia neighborhood is dotted with shiny new buildings accented with metal and chrome, and million-dollar homes whose facades jut out, breaking once uniform flanks of brick facades that lined the block. The coffee shops, trendy restaurants, chain drug stores, chic wine bar, and vegan bakery have set up shop on a once unglamorous commercial strip of small businesses and vacant storefronts. In three of Graduate Hospital’s most gentrified census tracts (the largest is 0.3 sq. mi., the others, 0.1 sq. mi.), the African American population has plunged,4 while the number of white residents has tripled5 and median income has soared by between 64 and 111 percent.6 The Pew Charitable Trusts called the changes “swift and sweeping.” Amid this jarring transformation, religious communities work to provide a spiritual anchor. They do it as the neighborhoods around them are shifting and the people of faith who live there change along with it. The congregations often do it while maintaining a perilous grip on the future, one loosened by decades of wearying efforts to cope with shrinking finances and aging buildings,7 and a depleted membership made up mostly of older members. For some, the prospect of staying in the changing community amounts to a prescription for institutional death, so they pack up and set out to carry on “the Great Commission” of sharing their faith and making what the Bible calls “disciples of all nations” in what they believe will be friendlier territory. Others remain, looking for ways to appeal to new neighbors or sometimes

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sustain themselves financially by adopting new models of owning their sacred buildings that allow them to stay put.Yet amid what is a struggle for some longtime congregations, new houses of worship emerge that settle into the changing neighborhood, as new spiritual beacons offering a way of worship and a youthful community that appeal to the relocated faithful in ways that longtime churches in the neighborhood do not. “Church planters are after people in their young late 20s, early 30s and plant for that generation,” said the Rev. Dr. William Krispin,8 co-founder of the former Center for Urban Theological Studies, now Lancaster Bible College | Capital Seminary & Graduate School, an educational program founded to focus on city-oriented ministry. “People move and find a church that reflects them. Gen X and Gen Zers are looking for their own age group, they want pastors from their own group,” Krispin said. That search leaves older, often old-fashioned churches on the outs, Krispin said. And, in Graduate Hospital’s case, those churches are mostly African American.

Urban gentry For the purposes of urban research, the word gentrification has been defined as significant increases in variables such as income, housing values, and educational attainment associated with a neighborhood.9 The term dates back to 1964 when Ruth Glass coined it in London: Aspects of Change,10 a collection of essays co-edited by the British sociologist. Glass used “gentry,” a word associated with British upper classes, and employed it in the description of the way houses in London’s Notting Hill and Islington neighborhoods were being taken over by bohemian couples with the money to refurbish them, thereby squeezing out existing blue-collar communities11 who can no longer afford property taxes, increased rents, and other costs associated with living in a particular place. One by one, many of the working class quarters of London have been invaded by the middle classes—upper and lower. Once this process of ‘gentrification’ starts in a district, it goes on rapidly until all or most of the original working class occupiers are displaced and the whole social character of the district is changed.12 The original definition has a kind of “replacement class value,” with one economic value replacing another, said Bruce Mitchell,13 senior research analyst with the National Community Reinvestment Coalition (NCRC), a Washington, DC-based organization that advocates for fairness in housing, lending, and business. Mitchell is a co-author of “Shifting Neighborhoods: Gentrification and cultural displacement in American Cities,” a 2019 NCRC study that analyzed gentrification in the nation.14 “I would say that gentrification has this kind of class war, racial or ethnic component to it. If it didn’t have that replacement component, it would really be just revitalization with economic values of homes going up and incomes going up ...,” Mitchell said. Philadelphia is one of seven cities that accounted for nearly half of the gentrification nationally between 2000 and 2013, the study reported.15 Most low- to moderate-income neighborhoods did not gentrify or revitalize during the period of our study, Mitchell said. But while gentrification across the nation was rare, the NCRC study found that many major American cities showed signs of gentrification and some racialized displacement between 2000 and 2012. In metropolitan centers where the changes are occurring, there is a “particular intensity” to the phenomenon, Mitchell said.

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Philadelphia ranked 4th among US cities in the raw number of gentrified tracts, behind New York, Los Angeles, and Washington DC, according to the NCRC report, but it fell to 10th place when the proportion of neighborhoods that had gentrified within the city was measured (17 percent).16 The NCRC study analyzed US Census data for the period between 2000 and 2010, and social and economic data from the US Census Bureau’s American Community Survey program, from 2008 through 2012.Areas with median household income and median house value below the 40th percentile in 2000 that increased to the top 60th percentile by 2012, with an adjustment for inflation, were defined as gentrified.17 In a 2016 study, only 15 of Philadelphia’s 372 residential census tracts were found to have gentrified from 2000 to 2014, according to “Philadelphia’s Changing Neighborhoods: Gentrification and other shifts since 2000,” released by Pew Research Charitable Trusts.18 Sections of Graduate Hospital accounted for the most gentrified neighborhoods, the Pew study reported.19 In one section, median home sale prices increased from $25,500 in 2000–2001 to $311,250 in 2013– 2014, up 1,120 percent, partly because there was a significant number of vacant properties.20 In all three of the most gentrified neighborhoods in Graduate Hospital, home prices grew largely out of reach for the residents who had been living there in 2000, the study reported. “When I moved here 63 years ago, I paid $5,000 for my house,” said Doris Reddick,21 88, of Graduate Hospital, who worked as a community coordinator at the neighborhood’s Edwin M. Stanton Elementary School before she retired 20 years ago.“Now houses in this area going for $500,000,” Reddick said (According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics Consumer Price Index, $5,000 in 1956 has the equivalent purchasing power of $48,128.92 in 2020).22 Before the transformation, these neighborhoods languished. A combination of neglect and concerted disinvestment by investors, due to high risk and low rates of return, initiated a long period of deterioration and a lack of new capital investment in the inner city, wrote sociologist Neil Smith in “Toward a Theory of Gentrification:A Back to the City Movement by Capital, not People,” published in 1979.23 Instead, investment shifted to the suburbs, a movement of capital begun at the turn of the century.Throughout the decades of most sustained suburbanization, from the 1940s to the 1960s, land values continued to decline in cities across the US, the study said. The deterioration was exacerbated by unethical practices such as blockbusting and redlining.24 In blockbusting, real estate agents persuaded owners to sell their property cheaply because of the fear of buyers of another race or class moving into the neighborhood. Later, the realtors would resell these properties at a higher price to incoming families. In redlining, lenders refused to extend credit to residents who lived in certain areas deemed a high financial risk; they literally drew red lines on maps to designate the areas.Those red-lined areas were typically occupied by racial minorities. Both practices were exposed and deemed illegal by federal legislation. But there have been other contributing factors. Gentrification in Graduate Hospital, a historic neighborhood for African Americans in the city, was preceded by a “massive depopulation,” the result of a failed plan to construct an interstate highway down South Street, the neighborhood’s commercial strip.The area lost half of its residents between 1960 and 1990.25 That abandoning of a neighborhood and other forces that lead to disinvestment, and depreciation of property values produce “the objective economic conditions that make capital revaluation (gentrification) a rational market response” when developers can invest in cheap properties and secure a large profit, Smith wrote.26 Neighborhood transformation also can occur organically in a more purposeful way, Mitchell said. Social scientist and economist Richard Florida writes about a “creative class”27 moving in when costs are lower and neighborhoods are in distress, buying properties and renovating them to realize a profit, Mitchell said. Smith calls them “occupier developers” who buy, redevelop

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and inhabit. Florida describes the creative class as 40 million Americans in a variety of fields including engineering, theater, education, and bio-tech who create for a living.Their participation in buying into neighborhoods with vacant housing spurs an organic change, according to Mitchell.28 Neighborhood change can also be a product of urban planning decisions made by city officials and others to encourage gentrification. In 2000, Philadelphia officials seeking to stem the flood of residents moving out of the city and to stimulate new construction enacted a tenyear tax abatement law. Buyers of newly built homes or units in improved buildings would not have to pay real estate taxes on the improvements for a decade. As a result, housing starts boomed.29 In Philadelphia, gentrification has been driven by the neighborhoods’ proximity to universities and the downtown area called Center City, said Emily Dowdall, policy director at the Reinvestment Fund, which advocates on behalf of underserved communities.30 Colleges including the University of Pennsylvania and Drexel University in West Philadelphia and Temple University in North Philadelphia instituted initiatives designed to encourage faculty and staff to settle in the school’s surrounding neighborhoods, according to “Philadelphia’s Changing Neighborhoods: Gentrification and other shifts since 2000,”31 the 2016 study that Dowdall researched and wrote for the Pew Charitable Trusts when she was an officer of the organization. The most recent spate of neighborhood change includes Northern Liberties (a once thriving industrial section of the city dotted with vacant warehouses), East Passyunk in South Philadelphia (a middle-class community of mostly homeowners with a popular restaurant strip), and Graduate Hospital (a predominantly African American community adjacent to Center City with a high percentage of renters). Moving in are new residents who are mostly 18–34, non-Hispanic whites, and college graduates, according to “A Portrait of Philadelphia Migration:Who Is Coming to the City—and Who Is Leaving,” a 2016 study by Pew using data from 2011 to 2013.32 But whether old residents are actually displaced because of gentrification—black for white, low income for upper income, etc.—remains the subject of debate among social scientists. Quantifying displacement is near impossible, Dowdall said.Whether or not a resident moves by choice or because of the economic and social pressures rising in the neighborhood is difficult to discern, she said. “Vulnerable residents” are generally no more likely to move from gentrifying neighborhoods compared with their counterparts in non-gentrifying neighborhoods,” according to Gentrification and Residential Mobility in Philadelphia, a 2015 study by the Federal Reserve Bank.33 Some research indicates that succession, rather than displacement is at work, Dowdall says. “Residents might not be forced out, but when they move they might be replaced by people who are a different race and make more money,” she says. Mitchell argues that as low-income residents move out of the gentrifying neighborhood, [residents with similar incomes] can’t afford to move in, so there is a gradual displacement and increase in income level. “That decrease in residents translates to a decrease in black and Hispanic residents,” Mitchell said. About 12,000 black residents moved out of Philadelphia’s gentrifying neighborhoods, from 2000 to 2010, the NCRC study reports.34 Richard Florida says that he was naïve to think that his creative class and the cities they help transform could inspire inclusive and equitable growth.35 Philadelphia and other cities are in the midst of “a new urban crisis” that is “a crisis of success manifested in accelerated gentrification, rising housing costs, and growing inequality and social division,” Florida wrote in “Philadelphia’s Next Challenge: From Urban Revitalization to Inclusive Prosperity,”36 a 2019 256

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report he produced as part of year-long fellowship aimed at developing “meaningful goals for equity and economic inclusion” in the wake of the city’s demographic and housing shifts. It is in that atmosphere that long-term neighbors feel unsettled by what can seem like dizzying change. The tastes, norms, and desires of newcomers supplant and replace those of the incumbent residents, researchers found in “Shifting Neighborhoods.”37 The changes in the neighborhood can ignite tensions among neighbors over issues such as parking, neighborhood traditions, and tax breaks afforded to wealthier newcomers (while long-term residents cope with increases in rent and property taxes). “When changes comes slowly, tensions aren’t as volatile, and but the more rapid the change the more intensely tensions get played out,” Dowdall said. That change can also upend historically- and culturally-significant institutions for a community, the NCRC study said. Churches are among them, Mitchell said.

Moving in Medical researcher Mary Beth Ritchey moved away from Philadelphia for a job, but she moved back to the city for a church.38 Ritchey, 40, had comfortably settled among the young Christians that make up Epic Church with its 5 locations, before she accepted an out-of-town job. But when the new post didn’t work out, she felt the pull of the church she loved calling her home. So Ritchey returned to Philadelphia and settled in the Graduate Hospital area, four blocks from the Center City branch of Epic (for “Every Person in the City”).The congregation opened the location seven years ago in the Suzanne Roberts Theater on the Avenue of the Arts, the city’s cultural arts thoroughfare, which spans a section of Broad Street. “This is a church for people like me—and not like me, and that’s extremely important.” Ritchey said.“If I go to a church where everybody is white, or everybody is married with two kids … Philly is for everyone. Epic puts it all together,” according to Richey, who is white.The church is a multicultural congregation. In moving back to a gentrified area of the city, Ritchey is helping to make Epic what researcher David E. Kresta calls “a beacon” to others who might consider moving into a neighborhood they perhaps wouldn’t have considered before its latest evolution. The message that Epic—and other churches that move in—send is “this neighborhood is safe to move into and changing. That can attract gentrifiers to a neighborhood—just like a hip coffee shop,” said Kresta, whose study “Can Churches Change a Neighborhood? A Census Tract, Multilevel Analysis of Churches and Neighborhood Change” examines the role of local churches as communities undergo transition.39 Kresta found that in following the flock and settling in the city neighborhoods, houses of worship aren’t just setting up shop in a new place, they are impacting the process of gentrification, perhaps in an unintended way. In the Graduate Hospital area, Epic is one of several churches that gathers for services in mostly unconventional venues.40 The Block Church, which had been meeting for two evening services on Sundays at the Philadelphia Clef Club of Jazz and Performing Arts (until it recently began renting space in a church one block away), joins Epic as one of several youthoriented churches that that have opened in Graduate Hospital and its near environs. Freedom Church meets at the Philadelphia Film Center in Center City. City Life Philly met at South Philadelphia High School before moving farther south to the Packer Park neighborhood. Liberti, which was renting space from First Baptist Church in Center City, has grown so much that it purchased the building and rents to the smaller First Baptist Church congregation, now tenants in the building they once owned. Other similar congregations have sprung up in the city in Fairmount, University City, and North and South Philadelphia. 257

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With slogans like, “We are the church for people who aren’t church people,” these congregations have attracted those from the Millennial, Gen X, and Gen Z cohorts with an uncomplicated and practical theology that is dispensed in short services, but sustained during the week in small groups.These gatherings are not only opportunities to talk church, but also to engage in shared interests such as skateboarding, cooking, watching movies, or participating in community service projects.Tech is integral, music is modern, and coffee is plentiful. “What worked yesterday doesn’t always work today,” said Pastor Joey Furjanic,41 founder of The Block Church, which includes three locations in Philadelphia with another in the Passyunk Square neighborhood scheduled to launch in 2020. “You can’t expect someone who has no [church-going experience] or whose been hurt by the church, ignored by it or bored by the church to re-engage when the way [traditional] churches go about it doesn’t work [for them],” Furjanic said. Studies show that young adults tend to be less religious than older adults. A 2019 Pew Research Center survey found 84 percent of people born between 1928 and 1945 describe themselves as Christians, while only 49 percent of Millennials identify as Christians. Four-inten of them say they are religious “nones,” with no affiliation, and one-in-ten identify with non-Christian faiths. Overall, the “nones” have increased from 17 to 26 percent since 2009, the study said.42 It is in this cultural context that church planters have set out to attract young people,William Krispin said. Millennial-oriented churches locate in places where change is being driven by the presence of young people in the community—with gentrification being a part of it, said Krispin who went on to explain that churches have long followed the residential patterns of their flocks. Decades earlier, the emphasis was on planting churches in the then-up-and-coming neighborhoods that were mostly in the suburbs. During that time, the megachurches multiplied in the suburbs. But since the 1990s, churches started moving to lower-income neighborhoods in a “back-to-the-city” movement for churches. It is a reversal of what became known as “white flight” among residents and houses of worship, Kresta said. The young people who grew up in those suburban households and have moved to the city are finding churches where they are, Krispin said.The search for—and founding of—churches in a new neighborhood reflects the way immigrant groups relocate and build social networks and institutions that help reshape the cultural identity of the surrounding community, a process call ethnogenesis.43 When Joey Furjanic and his wife Lauren decided to start a church in Philadelphia, the 33-year-old chose a catering hall in the Port Richmond neighborhood because the owner offered Furjanic a good deal on the rent.A former resident of Philadelphia, he had moved away as a youngster, but later decided to return. When the church had grown to over 300, Furjanic needed to expand. He looked around at where his congregants were coming from and found contingents from Graduate Hospital and South Philadelphia, two of the city’s most gentrified areas.As he walked the streets of Graduate Hospital, looking for a prospective venue, he found the Clef Club, a concert venue and music school. Soon, more than 300 people started showing up for 2 Sunday services, surrounded by images of jazz men Grover Washington Jr. and John Coltrane displayed high on the wall. Typically, Furjanic preaches live at one location and the sermon is livestreamed to the other congregations. Each location has a site pastor who supervises the location and its particular events and projects, and occasionally preaches. Epic Church is organized similarly and recently opened a new location in King of Prussia, a Philadelphia suburb.They also meet in schools and theaters.

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Kent Jacobs, who started Epic with his wife Tiffany and friend Joanne Domagala, had been the youth pastor at a 500-member church in the Philadelphia suburbs. He felt called to start a multicultural congregation that he says is “for Philly”—and for someone like him, just a “regular guy.” He describes it as a place where anyone can walk through the doors, be comfortable, and leave with a message that applies to everyday life. “I didn’t feel like the church that I came from—or churches in general—really addressed the questions that regular people were asking,” Jacobs said. “Tell me how to be a great dad, a great spouse.Tell me how I can make my life matter.” At the outset, Jacobs chose venues that wouldn’t intimidate the non-church goer. He started the first branch in a movie theater in the Manayunk neighborhood, which had already gentrified. When the church had grown to weekly attendance of over 300, Jacobs formed a focus group to consider a location for the next site.The group chose Center City and added services at the Suzanne Roberts Theater in 2012, and it also has locations in Northern Liberties and Parkside. “We are taking church to the people, not waiting for people to come to the church,” said Epic co-founder Jacobs.44 But moving in with good intentions to carry out the Great Commission may contribute to something less than great for longtime residents coping with change that they can’t control. A higher percentage of whites attending churches located in non-white neighborhoods is associated with more neighborhood gentrification, and, on average, white churches in low-income neighborhoods account for about 10 percent of the relative income growth required for gentrification, Kresta’s study reports.45 Moving in can cause a “negative disruption” to the existing community, and among the churches already doing good in the neighborhood, writes author D.L. Mayfield in “Church Planting and the Gospel of Gentrification: Are we seeking the ‘welfare of the city,’ or just our own?,” an article published in Sojourners magazine in 2017.46 When The Simple Way, an intentional community, moved into a blighted part of Kensington section of Philadelphia,“the last thing we wanted to do was start a church service,” said Christian activist and author Shane Claiborne, a founding partner of the community.47 “There are worship services on every corner,” he said. So the Simple Way wanted to join an existing worshipping community. “When you are a white person [and part of the majority culture] like myself and you’re moving into a diverse neighborhood,” you want to be mindful of the culture of the neighborhood and the “indigenous pastors” that are working in it, Claiborne said. The Rev. Robert L. Johnson, pastor of 117-year-old Tindley Temple United Methodist Church in Graduate Hospital, wonders if the new churches are committed to the neighborhood beyond meeting for services on Sunday and dispersing until the next.48 Furjanic and Jacobs argue that their churches are there to carry out grassroots ministry, and that their congregations they are intentionally diverse for a reason.“We are committed to everybody.We are asking the question how can we help? Not just the guy in the million-dollar condo. It’s how can we help the guy—wherever he lives,” Jacobs said.“We have a responsibility to look for opportunities to collaborate around serving the city,” he said. Jacobs and Furjanic say their congregations participate in community service projects and are looking to do more, including working with already established homeless missions, hosting a prom for disabled youth, and partnering with schools, neighborhood groups and other ministries. Such social service efforts by churches—new or longstanding in the neighborhood—can slow down the adverse effects of gentrification by helping low-income residents stay in place, David Kresta said. “We don’t want to just start something new. We want to partner with those doing people doing great work,” Furjanic said. 259

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“Are we part of gentrification? I don’t know,” Furjanic continued.“In a sense, we are a wave of something fresh. We’re just here to serve people and we go where we are welcomed and where people live and where opportunity presents itself. Although there’s nothing wrong with it, we are not a restaurant capitalizing on hipsters.”

Moving out It was a long gradual decline for First African Baptist Church from the heady days when congregants lined up to attend services in its grand sanctuary where legendary figures such as Booker T.Washington once stood at the pulpit. But there they were, in 2015, the church’s 109-year-old building cordoned off to protect passersby as official construction workers repaired portions of the building’s stone exterior. Now only about 50 people gathered for worship in a church that had been built for thousands. The last thing that First African needed, was something else to squeeze more of the future out of it. But the Graduate Hospital neighborhood around it was shifting, becoming less black, more white, and, perhaps as importantly, was starting to have fewer places for cars to park—for most all of the members had moved to other areas of the city and drove to church from outside the neighborhood. Half a mile away, the members of Greater Saint Matthew Baptist Church knew well the travails of parking in the gentrified Graduate Hospital neighborhood. Bishop Steven Avinger had watched members of his congregation drift away from the church, tired of repeated parking tickets, and attempts to find alternate solutions to a problem exacerbated by tensions with new neighbors who bristled at Sunday worshippers taking up valued spots for long services and complained about it to city officials. “I saw death” in the future, said Avinger, who has been pastor of Greater St. Matthew for 32 years.“It’s not like our new neighbors wouldn’t come in, they did, but they just wouldn’t join.”49 Without new members in the neighborhood to replace the old ones who were leaving, Greater St. Matthews’ finances tightened, and the congregation made what Avinger describes as a business decision that had to be made “if we wanted to survive.” In 2014, the congregation moved to the Nicetown section of North Philadelphia, a community that is predominantly black.A year later, First African moved from Graduate Hospital as well.The congregations sold their properties, packed up, and moved away from the home they had known for decades.They relocated with a couple of million dollars to help them set up shop elsewhere—and hopefully find a renewed sense of mission and purpose. In and around the Graduate Hospital area, churches have sold their buildings to ensure that they can continue saving souls. Gone are African American congregations, including Metropolitan AME, Greater Mount Olive AME, New Light Beulah Baptist Church, First Colored Wesley Methodist (now Fellowship Community Wesley Methodist), Christian Street Baptist, and New Hope Temple Baptist.50 A permit to demolish 19th Street Baptist Church, designed by noted architect Frank Furness in nearby Point Breeze, was denied by the Philadelphia Historical Commission in October 2019 amid legal wrangling between the church and a developer.51 Most have already relocated, or plan to move to neighborhoods they hope will be more open to their brand of religion.They have moved to North Philadelphia, the Lower Northeast,West Philadelphia, and to at least one suburban community with a diverse population. Between 2009 and 2019, nearly 40 religious buildings associated with multiple denominations have been torn down in Philadelphia, said Rachel Hildebrandt, senior program manager for Partners for Sacred Places, a national organization based in Philadelphia that helps congregations with community

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engagement and caring for their aging buildings. Graduate Hospital and the adjacent Point Breeze neighborhood have been among the hardest hit, observed Hildebrandt.52 “It’s disheartening,” longtime Greater St. Matthew member Katherine Reynolds, 61, said of churches’ disappearance from the area. “People don’t understand that spiritual connection.You need God in the neighborhood.When you kick out God, you kick out love.”53 Nationally, houses of worship have closed in “cities, suburbs, small towns, and rural locales alike,” as membership has plunged, Hildebrandt said. But the trend towards demolition is more pronounced in places that are experiencing development pressure and communities in which there is a high demand for new housing, Hildebrandt said. In Graduate Hospital,Avinger and his congregation increasingly felt that pressure, but tried to adapt to stay put.Avinger tried what he called a multicultural initiative to make services more new-neighborhood friendly.The change included altering his preaching style during worship, and opening up the church for community meetings and other events.A few new neighbors joined, but not enough. The Rev. Dr.Terrence Griffith, pastor of First African, stood outside of the now-113-yearold stone building at 16th and Christian Streets, and chatted with passersby. He found that, in addition to everything else—an aging congregation, deteriorating building, and tight finances— the name of his church, “First African Baptist,” was a problem. “People [whites and blacks] thought it was a church for Africans, so they stayed away,” Griffith said.54 In fact, First African was founded by 13 African Americans in 1809. Two of the church’s members sold themselves into slavery in 1832 to free a slave who could serve as their pastor.The congregation moved into their newly built church in Graduate Hospital in 1906. It became a church with a national reputation, with 3,000 to 4,000 attending on Sundays. Church members founded a savings and loan company, and a school. The neighborhood at one time “was perhaps the most important center for African American people in the city,” said Charles L. Blockson, curator emeritus and founder of the Charles L. Blockson Afro American Collection at Temple University.55 “It was the center for black talent. Doctors, ministers, teachers lived there,” Blockson said.Among them were historic figures such as architect Julian Abele, who contributed to the design of the Philadelphia Museum of Art; John Asbury, who founded a Philadelphia hospital; and opera singer Marian Anderson, who famously sang in a concert on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in 1939 after the Daughters of the American Revolution refused to let her sing at the organization’s Constitution Hall because Anderson was black. Greater St. Matthew moved in on the edge of the neighborhood in the early 2000s. They moved from a building farther south in Philadelphia because they had outgrown its space.They purchased what was a Catholic Church in Graduate Hospital and built a congregation that once averaged over 300 on Sunday. In the mid-2000s, a 618-unit development called Naval Square opened across the street on the grounds of a former site of the first US Naval Academy that had also served as a retirement home for veterans. The changes in the neighborhood exacerbated the troubles many churches already faced with aging, dwindling congregations, and old buildings that cost a lot of money to heat and maintain. “It’s really sad,” said Murray Spencer, a 45-year resident of Graduate Hospital, an architect, and chair of the zoning committee of the South of South Neighborhood Association, a community group.56 Spencer said: As a person who used to go to church every Sunday, because I had to, there were a lot of churches. But then people began to move out, congregations diminished … The population that supported 20 churches doesn’t exist to support 5 anymore—no matter who goes.

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For First African, the decline started in 1979 when the church split. The congregation that had once been such a stronghold, one that planted several churches in the city, was never the same, Griffith said. First African sold their building for $2,000,000 in 2015 and purchased the former St. Callistus Catholic Church, a 2-acre property in the Overbrook section of the city that included a church and office buildings. By then, Greater St. Matthew had already left the neighborhood, purchasing the former Triumph Baptist Church building and an annex in the Nicetown section. But the new locations don’t guarantee that the churches will have a future. Both must guard against the pitfall of moving to new location, but retaining the old ways of carrying out their mission at a time when people are less attached to religious institutions, Avinger said.Without real change and connection to the new neighborhood, church officials may be just postponing a church closure.57 “Churches are in a continual cycle of churches dying and new churches being planted,” Krispin said.“I can count on my hands the number of churches that are 50.The average life cycle of a church is 40 years. It’s become generational. It’s a church for a generation,” Krispin said. First African, which sunk nearly all of its $2,000,000 sale proceeds into renovating the new church, has rebranded itself as part of its efforts to ensure that it lives on in the generations to come. Instead of First African Baptist Church, it’s calling itself FAB Church. Church services are shorter, hymnals have been banished for video screens, music is hipper, church content is available on YouTube and Facebook, donations can be made via an app, and officials are considering installing a donation kiosk. “We are doing exceptionally well,” Griffith said. Attendance had declined to about 50 on an average Sunday in Graduate Hospital.“It is now over 100—and getting younger,” Griffith said, who added that church officials are working closely with block captains and developing partnerships with schools and other organizations. At Greater St. Matthew, Avinger says his church is “still rebuilding,” at a time when nationwide church attendance is on the decline.The church lost about half its membership, although a small number still make the trek from South Philadelphia via the church van. Neighborhood residents are coming, but at a slower pace than Avinger hoped. And the newbies tend to be middle-aged. Reynolds still comes to Greater St. Matthew where she has been a member for 25 years. She started attending when she could walk to the church, which was then only two blocks from her house in Point Breeze. When the congregation moved ten blocks away to Graduate Hospital, she began driving to services, and now that it’s on the “other side of town,” she takes the church van. Her involvement in the church has diminished and she has considered joining a congregation closer to her home. Reynolds calls the change a “culture shock.” She misses the chance to make a quick dash to church for some guidance or counseling from the pastor.“But I guess the Lord finished our work in [Graduate Hospital] and took us to the other side of the city,” Reynolds said.“It’s a need for ministry in that neighborhood and doing the work the Lord is important.” Since the move,Avinger hasn’t changed a lot about his services, but his community outreach, which began a year before the church even moved, is paying off. He is in negotiations with a local university to establish a family medical center in the church’s basement.The neighborhood is what Avinger calls “a family-physician desert.” A drug treatment center may be in the wings for a church annex, and a heart disease prevention program is in the planning stages.“In South Philadelphia, we ran youth programs. Here the need is different,” Avinger said. “Our approach is transformational.There is an opportunity for science and religion to come together to treat the whole person.”

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In a nod to the younger generation, Greater St. Matthew has started what the church calls a “Millennial Remix” service.What’s different? Said Avinger,“They do everything in 20 minutes, and I just get up and preach.”

Staying put The Rev. Robert L. Johnson is preaching a tough-love message of survival in the halls of the historic church where hymn-writing legend Charles Albert Tindley once served as pastor.58 “Reaching young people is hard when you have an old congregation. Who are the members going to invite to services? Other 80 year-olds?” Johnson said. For Tindley Temple United Methodist Church to survive beyond the years of the people who currently sit in its pews, the church must confront its mortality. The prospect of Tindley Temple’s death is not a fate that Johnson and the members of the church are willing to accept. Neither is moving away from their Graduate Hospital location in its prime position on the Avenue of the Arts. So Johnson and other church officials are working hard to save the congregation founded by the minister whose gospel songs with lyrics such as “Take your burden to the Lord and leave it there” still comfort the faithful. Gentrification can be a good thing for churches, Johnson said.“We just need to find a way to turn it into an opportunity that we can take advantage of. It’s not something we should be running from,” he said. Johnson, who grew up in Tindley Temple as a little boy, has vowed that the nearly 100-yearold Beaux Arts building will remain standing and serving as a church at a time when other congregations have found the changes in the neighborhood to be a final straw.They’ve sold and moved out. By Johnson’s count, some 13 have moved since he was named Tindley’s pastor in 2014.59 “Churches have to do what they must for their own situation,” Johnson said.“Sometimes it’s easier to relocate and start over some place than to stay and struggle,” he said. Longtime member Doris Reddick shudders at the thought of Tindley anywhere else but near the corner of Broad and Fitzwater Streets, or, worse, closing entirely.60 She has lived in the neighborhood for decades and has long urged her neighbors and acquaintances to come visit, including a then-eight-year-old Robert Johnson who she escorted safely across the street when he was a student and Reddick was a school crossing guard. “I made a lot of children in the neighborhood go to Sunday School,” said Reddick who added that she is saddened by what she calls the loss of black churches. “They’re turning them into apartments and condos.That’s the part that hurts,” Reddick said. Tindley Temple perhaps feels the weight of history pressing it to stand firm despite the vicissitudes of gentrification that not only swirl around the neighborhood, but have landed across the street and next door. Luxury condominium complex 777 South Broad faces the church and the new Lydian Place complex of townhouses is next door.61 Units at Lydian Place are projected to sell for over $1,000,000 starting in 2020.62 In an effort to save the church and its legacy,Tindley Temple is doing what other churches have done: devising a strategy to turn its property into a revenue-producing asset. Johnson envisions a concert hall showcase for which a promoter schedules performers who may be more trendy than Tindley. Shiloh Baptist Church, about a half mile away, is confronting the same dilemma—how to stay put, survive—and perhaps thrive.The congregation’s “mother church” First African Baptist, elected to depart the neighborhood, leaving Shiloh, a church First African planted, to fight on. Since the Rev. Edward Sparkman became the pastor of the congregation in the late 1990s, the minister has presided over 150 funerals.Yet Sparkman, who is also a lawyer, doesn’t consider

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the congregation “a dying church.”63 It is the midst—along with other churches—of what Sparkman describes as a retrenchment that marks the end of the church-growth era. Adapting means focusing on “what we have”—Shiloh’s building and its people.About 40 members attend service every Sunday in the congregation’s fellowship hall, because the 1,200-seat sanctuary— with its $4,000-a-month heating bill—is just too big. “Doing for Millennials is fine, but what about others who want to do more traditional services?” Sparkman said. On a Sunday in September of 2019, that worship in celebration of Shiloh’s 177th anniversary is a buoyant and emotional gathering, featuring songs from the choir that sang with a spirit as vibrant as their cobalt blue dresses. A congregation of more than 100 sang about “Holding on to God’s unchanging hand” a 1906 hymn that encourages the faithful to build their hopes “on things eternal” when times are filled with “swift transition.” Shiloh is working with Partners for Sacred Places, which is helping church officials to better utilize the congregation’s three historic buildings on the corner of 21st and Christian Streets and enhance its relationship to the changing community around it. An aerial dance troupe rents rehearsal and performance space; it has also become the meeting space for neighborhood groups, and become a beneficiary of local charitable fundraising social events. The congregation’s message is: “Don’t think of us just as a building—or just a church.”The strategy may be working. “Some of the young people are coming back. But they just don’t join.” Sparkman said. On this issue, Jacobs shares his own hard truth acknowledging the demographic segregation in much of morning worship: If you look around and don’t see people who look like you, you feel out of place. No matter how great the experience, you might say it’s not for me … If you walk in and see an older congregation, [and you’re young], you want to have friends, cultivate relationships and not feel like you’re on the outside looking in. When a church is “not so diverse,” its ability to be a “convener of people with different backgrounds,” can be limited, observed Emily Dowdall.“The same is true when most of the church is older. Congregations lose their ability to be nimble enough to change and attract younger people,” Krispin said. “The church must bear some responsibility for the absence of young people,” observed Robert Johnson. “It has alienated young people by dismissing their ideas and participation, when they were attending church with their parents and grandparents,” Johnson said. He figures that if young people won’t visit for services, maybe they’ll come to the building for another kind of event—a concert, a play, or other performances—that will generate funds to help preserve the life of the church. Johnson’s plan to save Tindley Temple is an adaptation of one now in operation at Holy Ghost Headquarters, a church that owned the former Metropolitan Opera House in Francisville, another of Philadelphia’s gentrifying neighborhoods. In 2012, the congregation leaders struck a deal with a music promoter and a developer who would spend $56,000,000 to renovate the then-111-year-old building and turn it into the Met Philadelphia, which so far has hosted concerts by Madonna, Bob Dylan, and Sting.64 Holy Ghost Headquarters still worships at the Met on Sundays and will share in the profits—when they start rolling in. That’s what Johnson envisions, along with partnering with another organization to turn the church parking lot into senior citizen condos with underground parking that will be shared with other church members. 264

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While Johnson says that Tindley Temple isn’t leaving, Sparkman says the time may come for Shiloh. “When God tells us to leave, we’ll leave, and I have no problem with that,” Sparkman said.And when he does leave, Sparkman plans for the church to be paid handsomely—not what he views as the “chump change” that other developers are paying other churches.“We have five buildings,” Sparkman continued.“They’ve got to come up with at least $25 million,” he said. Until Sparkman or someone else feels that heavenly direction, Shiloh plans to continue partnering with community groups and opening its doors to new neighbors. Kresta says that those collaborations are important.“That’s what we hope to see in the future that churches [new and longstanding in the community] partner with others who care about the neighborhood and not approach ministry in a silo,” Kresta offered. It’s also important that religious leaders—old, new, and in-training—understand more about the nuts and bolts of neighborhood change.“Seminary education and other training programs need to catch up,” Kresta said,“because those who really want to help their [communities] will definitely have to deal with these issues.” The economic, social, cultural, and religious shifts that shake communities in transition can upend churches and other institutions in gentrifying neighborhoods.The changes can help create a breeding ground for upstart congregations who appeal to the new neighbors, or a possible burial ground for longtime churches who must scramble for a way to survive the new normal— inside the community, or outside of it.They must confront unsettling questions. How can they re-establish the kinship that at one time made the church a community foundation? Should they move, stay put, or dissolve? And if they fight on, how much of their identity are they willing to change for a chance at institutional survival?

Notes 1 Emily Dowdall,“Philadelphia’s Changing Neighborhoods: Gentrification and Other Shifts since 2000,” The Pew Charitable Trusts (May 2016): p. 9, www.pewtrusts.org/-/media/assets/2016/05/philadelphias_ changing_neighborhoods.pdf. 2 Jason Richardson, Bruce Mitchell, Juan Franco,“Shifting Neighborhoods: Gentrification and Cultural Displacement in American Cities,” National Community Reinvestment Coalition (March 19, 2019): file: ///C:/Users/Rob/Downloads/NCRC-Research-Gentrification-FINAL3%20(1).pdf. 3 Jeffery C. Mays,“As Gas Stations Vanish, Harlem Sees Gentrification Creeping In,” The New York Times, May 28, 2017, www.nytimes.com/2017/05/28/nyregion/as-gas-stations-vanish-harlem-sees-gentrific ation-creeping-in.html?auth=login-email&login=email. 4 Dowdall,“Philadelphia’s Changing,” p. 2. 5 Dowdall,“Philadelphia’s Changing,” p. 2. 6 Dowdall,“Philadelphia’s Changing,” p. 9. 7 Jonathan Merritt,“America’s Epidemic of Empty Churches,” The Atlantic, November 25, 2018, www. theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2018/11/what-should-america-do-its-empty-church-buildings/ 576592/. 8 The Rev. Dr.William Krispin in discussion with author, October 2019. 9 Richardson et al.,“Shifting Neighborhoods.” 10 “Ruth Glass and coining ‘Gentrification,’” Bartlett 100,2019,https://bartlett100.com/article/ruth-glassand-coining-gentrification. 11 “Ruth Glass.” 12 “Ruth Glass.” 13 Bruce Mitchell in conversation with the author, October 2019. 14 Richardson et al.,“Shifting Neighborhoods.” 15 Richardson et al.,“Shifting Neighborhoods.” 16 Richardson et al.,“Shifting Neighborhoods.” 17 Richardson et al.,“Shifting Neighborhoods.” 18 Dowdall,“Philadelphia’s Changing,” p. 1. 19 Dowdall,“Philadelphia’s Changing,” p. 9.

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Kristin E. Holmes 20 Dowdall,“Philadelphia’s Changing,” p. 11. 21 Doris Reddick in conversation with Kristin E. Holmes, October 2019. 22 Consumer Price Index Inflation Calculator, US Bureau of Labor Statistics, https://data.bls.gov/cgibin/cpicalc.pl. 23 Neil Smith,“Toward a Theory of Gentrification A Back to the City Movement by Capital, not People,” Journal of the American Planning 45, No. 4 (2007): pp. 538–48, doi:10.1080/01944367908977002. 24 Smith,“Toward a Theory,” pp. 544–5. 25 Inga Saffron,“Searching for a New Identity, Philadelphia’s Most Gentrified Neighborhood Looks to Its African American Past,” The Philadelphia Inquirer, July 19, 2018. www.inquirer.com/philly/columnists/ inga_saffron/philadelphia-neighborhood-names-graduate-hospital-marian-anderson-20180719.html. 26 Smith,“Toward a Theory,” p. 545. 27 Steve Volk, “Critics Say Richard Florida’s Ideas Helped Ruin American Cities. Can He Redeem Himself in Philly?,”Philadelphia,September 21,2019,www.phillymag.com/news/2019/09/21/richardflorida-philadelphia/. 28 Mitchell in discussion with Kristin E. Holmes, October 2019. 29 Joel Naroff,“A Look at Whether Philadelphia’s 10-Year Tax Abatement Should Continue,” Philadelphia Inquirer, May 3, 2018, www.inquirer.com/philly/business/should-the-philadelphia-10-year-taxabatement-continue-20180503.html. 30 Emily Dowdall in conversation with the author, September 2019. 31 Dowdall,“Philadelphia’s Changing,” p. 33. 32 “A Portrait of Philadelphia Migration: Who Is Coming to the City—and Who Is Leaving,” Pew Charitable Trusts (July 2016): 2, www.pewtrusts.org/-/media/assets/2016/07/a_portrait_of_phila delphia_migration.pdf. 33 Lei Ding, Jackelyn Hwang, and Eileen Divringi, “Gentrification and Residential Mobility in Philadelphia,” Federal Reserve Bank of Philadelphia (October 2015): 10, www.philadelphiafed.org/-/ media/community-development/publications/discussion-papers/discussion-paper_a-practitionerssummary.pdf?la=en. 34 Richardson et al.,“Shifting Neighborhoods.” 35 Volk,“Critics Say Richard Florida’s.” 36 Richard Florida, “Philadelphia’s Next Challenge: From Urban Revitalization to Inclusive Prosperity,” Drexel University, Lindy Institute for Urban Innovation,” https://drexel.edu/~/media/Files/lindyinst itute/_LindyReports/Philadelphia_Next_Challenge.ashx?la=en. 37 Richardson et al.,“Shifting Neighborhoods.” 38 Mary Beth Ritchey in conversation with Kristin E. Holmes, 2019. 39 David Kresta, “Can Churches Change a Neighborhood? A Census Tract, Multilevel Analysis of Churches and Neighborhood Change,” (PhD dissertation, Portland State University, 2019), https://pdx scholar.library.pdx.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=6058&context=open_access_etds. 40 Kristin E. Holmes, “As Philly Neighborhoods Gentrify, Black Churches Lose Their Base and Leave,” Philadelphia Inquirer, July 6, 2018, www.inquirer.com/philly/news/black-churches-leave-gentrifyphilly-neighborhoods-graduate-hospital-developers-20180706.html. 41 Joey Furjanic in conversation with the author, September 2019. 42 “In U.S., Decline of Christianity Continues at Rapid Pace,” Pew Research Center (October 17, 2019): 8, www.pewforum.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/7/2019/10/Trends-in-Religious-Identity-and-Atten dance-FOR-WEB-1.pdf. 43 Katie Day, Faith on the Avenue: Religion on a City Street (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014) p. 191, Kindle. 44 Kent Jacobs in conversation with Kristin E. Holmes, September 2019. 45 Kresta,“Can Churches,” p. 164. 46 D.L. Mayfield,“Church Planting and the Gospel of Gentrification:Are We Seeking the ‘Welfare of the City,’ or Just Our Own?” Sojourners, July 2017, https://sojo.net/magazine/july-2017/church-plantingand-gospel-gentrification. 47 Shane Claiborne in conversation with Kristin E. Holmes, October 2019. 48 The Rev. Robert L. Johnson in conversation with the author, September 2019. 49 Bishop Steven Avinger in conversation with the author, October 2019. 50 Holmes,“As Philly neighborhoods.” 51 Jake Blumgart, “City Denies Demolition for Furness’ Point Breeze Church,” WHYY, Oct 11, 2019, https://whyy.org/articles/city-denies-demolition-for-frank-furness-point-breeze-church/.

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Religion and the dynamics of gentrification 52 See “Urban Historic Sacred Places in Transition” by Rachel Hildebrandt and Chad Martin, Chapter 19, this volume. 53 Katherine Reynolds in conversation with Kristin E. Holmes, October 2019. 54 The Rev.Terrence Griffith in conversation with Kristin E. Holmes, October 2019. 55 Charles L. Blockson in conversation with Kristin E. Holmes, September 2019. 56 Murray Spencer in conversation with Kristin E. Holmes, October 2019. 57 Holmes,“As Philly neighborhoods.” 58 “Black History Month Part II: Tindley Temple,” Historical Society of Pennsylvania, https://hsp.org/ blogs/archival-adventures-in-small-repositories/black-history-month-part-ii-tindley-temple. 59 Johnson in conversation with Kristin E. Holmes, October 2019. 60 Doris Reddick in conversation with Kristin E. Holmes, October 2019. 61 “Luxury Living on Philadelphia’s Avenue of the Arts,” Lydian Place, https://lydianplace.com/. 62 Anna Merriman,“Developer Bringing $2 Million Townhouses to South Broad,” Curbed Philadelphia, https://philly.curbed.com/2018/6/25/17500214/developer-nyc-building-broad-fitzwater-southphilly-retail-homes. 63 The Rev. Edward Sparkman in conversation with Kristin E. Holmes, September 2019. 64 Kristin E. Holmes, “Congregations Sell Their Deeds in Order to Survive,” Philadelphia Inquirer, September 28, 2018, www.inquirer.com/philly/news/church-sell-property-survive-met-philadelphiatenant-developer-20180928.html.

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Kristin E. Holmes Holmes, Kristin E. “As Philly Neighborhoods Gentrify, Black Churches Lose Their Base and Leave.” Philadelphia Inquirer. Accessed July 6, 2018. www.inquirer.com/philly/news/black-churches-leavegentrify-philly-neighborhoods-graduate-hospital-developers-20180706.html. Holmes, Kristin E. “Congregations Sell Their Deeds in Order to Survive.” Philadelphia Inquirer. Accessed September 28, 2018. www.inquirer.com/philly/news/church-sell-property-survive-met-philadelphiatenant-developer-20180928.html. Kresta, David E.“Can Churches Change a Neighborhood? A Census Tract, Multilevel Analysis of Churches and Neighborhood Change.” PhD dissertation, Portland State University. Accessed May 10, 2019. https://pdxscholar.library.pdx.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=6058&context=open_access_etds. Lydian Place.“Luxury Living on Philadelphia’s Avenue of the Arts.”Accessed 17 November 2020. https:// lydianplace.com/. Mayfield, D.L. “Church Planting and the Gospel of Gentrification: Are We Seeking the ‘Welfare of the City,’ or Just Our Own?” Sojourners.Accessed July 2017. https://sojo.net/magazine/july-2017/churchplanting-and-gospel-gentrification. Mays, Jeffery C.“As Gas Stations Vanish, Harlem Sees Gentrification Creeping in.” New York Times. Accessed May 28, 2017. www.washingtonpost.com/dc-md-va/2019/09/21/shed-lived-this-historically-blackdc-block-years-now-she-was-being-pushed-out/?arc404=true. Merriman, Anna. “Developer Bringing $2 Million Townhouses to South Broad.” Curbed Philadelphia. Accessed June 25, 2018. https://philly.curbed.com/2018/6/25/17500214/developer-nyc-buildingbroad-fitzwater-south-philly-retail-homes. Merritt, Jonathan.“America’s Epidemic of Empty Churches.”Atlantic.Accessed November 25, 2018. www. theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2018/11/what-should-america-do-its-empty-church-buildings/ 576592/. Naroff, Joel. “A Look at Whether Philadelphia’s 10-Year Tax Abatement Should Continue.” Philadelphia Inquirer. Accessed May 3, 2018. www.inquirer.com/philly/business/should-the-philadelphia-10-yeartax-abatement-continue-20180503.html. Pew Charitable Trusts. “A Portrait of Philadelphia Migration: Who Is Coming to the City—and Who Is Leaving.” Accessed July 2016. www.pewtrusts.org/-/media/assets/2016/07/a_portrait_of_phila delphia_migration.pdf. Pew Research Center.“In U.S., Decline of Christianity Continues at Rapid Pace:An Update on America’s Changing Religious Landscape.” Accessed October 17, 2019. www.pewforum.org/wp-content/up loads/sites/7/2019/10/Trends-in-Religious-Identity-and-Attendance-FOR-WEB-1.pdf. Rainer,Thom S. “Hope for Dying Churches.” Facts & Trends. Accessed January 16, 2018. https://factsand trends.net/2018/01/16/hope-for-dying-churches/. Richardson, Jason, Bruce Mitchell and Juan Franco.“Shifting Neighborhoods: Gentrification and Cultural Displacement in American Cities.” National Community Reinvestment Coalition. Accessed March 19, 2019. https://ncrc.org/gentrification/. Saffron, Inga. “Searching for a New Identity, Philadelphia’s Most Gentrified Neighborhood Looks to Its African American Past.” Philadelphia Inquirer. Accessed July 19, 2018. www.inquirer.com/philly/ columnists/inga_saffron/philadelphia-neighborhood-names-graduate-hospital-marian-anderson20180719.html. Smith, Neil. “Toward a Theory of Gentrification a Back to the City Movement by Capital, Not People.” Journal of the American Planning. 45, No. 4 (2007): 538–548. doi: dx.doi.org/10.1080/01944367908977002. Smith, Sandy. “Living in Graduate Hospital: A Neighborhood Guide.” Philadelphia. Accessed August 23, 2018. www.phillymag.com/property/2018/08/23/graduate-hospital-neighborhood-guide/. Volk, Steve.“Critics Say Richard Florida’s Ideas Helped Ruin American Cities. Can He Redeem Himself in Philly?.” Philadelphia.Accessed September 21, 2019. www.phillymag.com/news/2019/09/21/richardflorida-philadelphia/.

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19 URBAN HISTORIC SACRED PLACES IN TRANSITION Partners for sacred places Rachel Hildebrandt and Chad Martin

One of the authors (Rachel Hildebrandt) and her co-researcher sat in folding chairs in a cozy but unkempt first floor meeting room as the long-time pastor of Church of the Crucifixion, a historic African American Episcopal Church, detailed the congregation's history.About an hour into the conversation, loud clanging and the sound of flowing water from an unknown internal source, filled the room—which served as both a worship space for the congregation of eight or so as well as a meeting space for the numerous support groups that met in the building.This church was on the verge of closing, and the building was in active, apparent decline. Although it was one of the more disheartening interviews Kalen McNabb and Rachel conducted as part of a larger study, Church of the Crucifixion has proven to be emblematic of the challenges and opportunities facing our nation's historic religious properties. Many are in decline as the congregations that occupy them, especially Mainline Protestant congregations, decline in size and strength. However, they can be revived in creative ways that enrich community—if the denominational structures that inherit them are willing to 'remission' the best of them, and if the congregations that oversee their transition are willing to give strategic priority to preservation-sensitive buyers rather than speculative developers. Church of the Crucifixion closed its doors just weeks after this interview; but, recognizing that the building embodies an important history and is in a strategic location, the Episcopal Diocese of Pennsylvania has retained ownership of the building and is in the process of re-missioning it (or repurposing it with the denomination’s core mission in mind). In fact, in 2019 its doors were again open as a group from nearby St. Mark’s Episcopal Church inaugurated RISE, a Lilly Endowment-funded ministry that utilizes the craft of bread making to build community among neighbors aged 21 to 35, and to feed those contending with hunger or food insecurity.1 Philadelphia, the location of Partners for Sacred Places’ headquarters, serves as the organization’s de facto laboratory for research and programmatic development. Over the past 30 years, Partners has spearheaded research that has helped governmental agencies and non-profit organizations to understand the value that faith communities generate for their communities as well as the challenges they face, including the recent report, Philadelphia’s Historic Sacred Places.2 Philadelphia is one of the only cities in America that maintains a comprehensive inventory of its older and historic religious buildings; and it is the only city in America where researchers have done such a deep dive into the trends facing these important structures. 269

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Previous inquiries: 1998–2016 Sacred places at risk3 In 1998 Partners conducted the first scientific study in which the community-serving work of congregations housed in historic and older buildings was quantified. This study found that an average urban congregation creates over $140,000 per year in value through the contribution of volunteer time; space at below-market rates; and cash and in-kind donations to communityserving programs (including those they operate and/or house).The study also found that four out of five individuals who visit a given sacred place are beneficiaries of this programming rather than members of the congregation. Though groundbreaking, Sacred Places at Risk and subsequent works did not attempt to quantify all of the ways that congregations impact their communities.4

Attrition survey of community-serving sacred places in North Philadelphia In 2001, Partners hired a team of professionals led by the firm of Martin J. Rosenblum & Associates to assess the condition of ten historic, purpose-built religious properties in one of the most distressed communities in Philadelphia, North Philadelphia. North Philadelphia had seen decades of disinvestment, which left its people underserved and its prewar building stock blighted.5 Ultimately, the purpose of this survey was to document, through the collection of conditions data, the properties’ repair needs and to project future decline of these buildings in the absence of major investment. Findings of this project include: • • • • •

Repair estimates ranged from $700,000 to just over $2,000,000, with an average of approximately $1,500,000 million per building. Five properties exhibited structural problems. Five properties exhibited exterior and interior deficiencies that posed major life-safety problems. All ten properties exhibited code violations (for example, antiquated or substandard electrical wiring). All ten properties lacked, or had inadequate, fire detection systems.

Importantly, the majority of these conditions issues were the result of long-term deferred maintenance associated with the congregations’ financial limitations, and most of the congregations lacked access to professional support for planning and implementing capital improvements due to the fact that most were independent congregations without a larger denominational organization. Congregations that belong to an organized denomination—Episcopal, Presbyterian, and Methodist, for example—typically pay an annual assessment to their denomination and, in return, receive services related to insurance, pensions, capital project planning, and fundraising assistance. Congregations that do not belong to an organized denomination must navigate these areas on their own, increasing their vulnerability in the face of long-term challenges. These findings suggested that these congregations, all of which worshipped in their buildings and maintained community-serving programs, were on the brink of crisis and perhaps on a trajectory toward financial failure. In turn, if action was not taken, the community was at risk of losing significant architectural and cultural landmarks as well as the important programs they housed. Now that nearly 20 years have passed since the conclusion of the Attrition Survey, it is possible to revisit the 10 congregations to determine how they fared. Currently two of the congregations 270

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facing the costliest repair needs have closed their doors.The first building, Christ Temple Baptist Church, has since been demolished; and the second, St. Augustine’s Church of the Covenant, has since been converted into residences.The eight others continue to house the congregations they did in 2002, and appear to have defied the seemingly inevitable.This is a testament to how resilient faith communities can be. The demolition of Christ Temple Baptist Church, built as Green Hill Presbyterian Church in 1848, is unfortunate but not surprising.The building was of tremendous architectural significance as an early example of the Gothic Revival style pioneered by architect and builder John Notman (1810–1865). But given the fact that it had deteriorated to the point of requiring over $2,000,000 in capital investment, its demise is unsurprising. This building provides an early example of a phenomenon with broad-reaching implications that is better understood now.The building suffered decades of deferred maintenance under the congregation that first owned and occupied it. Upon dissolution of this congregation, it was sold in 1971 to a congregation of color with limited means but abundant faith. Undoubtedly, Christ Temple Baptist Church did the best that it could to sustain the property despite the uphill nature of this task. In fact, eight of the ten churches that participated in the Attrition Survey were built by Mainline Protestant congregations and were transitioned to African American congregations— some growing and already well-established, but most young and fledgling—during the midtwentieth century. Congregations that have taken on buildings erected by other congregations are called “hermit crabs.”6

The economic halo effect of sacred places The two iterations of this study differed from Sacred Places at Risk in that they took into consideration a broader array of congregational activities and assumed the following: • • • • • •

Spending on operations and building maintenance is funneled into the local economy. Providing preschool and K through 12 schooling saves school districts money and enables parents to work. Green space and recreation space improve our environment and lower energy costs. Hosting events and operating programs catalyzes visitor spending. Intervening in individuals’ lives enables people to work and reduces government spending. Operating and hosting community-oriented programs supplements the activity of the local government and social service agencies, adding value to the community.

Based on an extensive review of available, academically vetted methodologies, researchers, including one of the authors here, identified nearly two-dozen quantifiable measures of economic impact relevant to congregations and assembled a singular methodology to pilot in Philadelphia.7 Partners built upon the pilot by undertaking a larger study, beginning in 2010 and concluding in 2016. This study differed from the first in that it included a greater number of congregations (90), and congregations were selected at random8 from 3 large cities (Chicago, Philadelphia, and Fort Worth).9 Most notably, we found: •

Urban congregations that own purpose-built religious buildings employ, on average, 5 fulltime and 6 part-time staff.10 271

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• •

Sacred places are magnets for visitors, attracting an average of 780 visits each week with only 11% of visits for worship and 89% of visits for other purposes. 87% of the beneficiaries of the community programs and events housed in sacred places are not members of the religious congregation.

Philadelphia’s Historic Sacred Places: Their past, present, and future This project produced an updated citywide inventory of older, purpose-built sacred places and an accompanying qualitative analysis that summarized key research findings on the factors that contribute to congregational vulnerability and resilience.The qualitative analysis was based on a series of 22 interviews with congregations representing the diversity that can be found in Philadelphia—in terms of geographic and real estate market context, denomination, predominant ethnicity/culture, congregational size and strength, congregational life cycle, and building condition. This project afforded the opportunity to develop a comprehensive understanding of the religious landscape overall, as well as an understanding of the ways in which institutional health and dynamics impact our religious building stock. Thus, the following reflects our most important learnings derived from this study, as well as our vast experience of working with congregations previously and since—from those that are thriving to those that have made the difficult decision to close, merge, or downsize (or those that have been closed or merged by action of their judicatory). Partners has continued to track citywide trends and to explore the range of options facing congregations in transition. Philadelphia’s Historic Sacred Places found that many of the city’s congregations and historic houses of worship are characterized by both vulnerability and resilience. In the following section, we will outline in more detail what contributes to these characteristics. At its heart, the study provided comprehensive confirmation of what earlier studies had been indicating for years: Philadelphia’s religious building stock is likely to become precariously vulnerable in the next 10–20 years, and buildings that have become neighborhood anchors—perceived by the public as likely to endure as such forever—are likely to face crises challenging even their existence.

Sacred places in transition: Learnings gleaned from Philadelphia’s Historic Sacred Places and Partners’ field experience Philadelphia’s religious building stock is in transition, due in large part to the declining memberships and resources of many congregations. Like many congregations across the country, this trend has left many Philadelphia congregations focused on what was rather than what is, recalling the days in which the pews were filled from end to end and children infused the church with life. The numbers, gleaned from a number of sources, confirm this. In Philadelphia, the following is true: • • • •

There are 839 historic, purpose-built sacred places (defined as built for the explicit purpose of worship prior to 1965). 10% of historic, purpose-built sacred places have been adapted for nonreligious uses— mostly residential use. There have been 37 demolitions of historic sacred places since 2009. In 2018, there were only 3 examples of the original owner and occupant transitioning its building to a developer to be demolished, while there were 21 examples of “hermit crab” 272

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• • •

congregations transitioning their buildings to developers to be demolished (of the 21 congregations, 15 are still in existence and occupy other historic, purpose-built sacred places). More than half of historic sacred places are owned by “hermit crab” congregations. Most urban congregations are “commuter congregations” with at least two thirds of the congregation traveling from other neighborhoods or even municipalities to worship. Few urban congregations utilize the entirety of their buildings.

Many, if not most, of the Mainline Protestant congregations that have not yet left the city’s less affluent neighborhoods and transitioned their buildings to congregations of other denominations, are likely to do so in the next five to ten years.There is great opportunity to initiate new congregations or new community-serving programs at these sites, but most denominational bodies lack the capacity to invest in creative, new alternatives. Meanwhile,“hermit crab” congregations (typically Mainline Protestant or Roman Catholic, originally), are struggling to sufficiently care for their buildings—many of which suffered from deferred maintenance under their original owners. Instead of attempting to restore their buildings with scarce reserves, these congregations are deaccessioning them. This trend is especially apparent for Roman Catholic-built complexes that were deaccessioned by the Archdiocese of Philadelphia in the early 1990s. These large and prominently located complexes often encompass entire city blocks and include multiple buildings—typically a church, school, rectory, and convent. Patrick Hildebrandt, a local blogger about sacred places, uses tongue-in-cheek phrases such as “North Philadelphia Swath of Destruction” and “The Year of Hell” to describe the period in which Catholic churches in North Philadelphia and West Philadelphia were closed and subsequently sold to independent, mostly African American congregations or aspirational non-profit organizations.11 Nearly three decades later, many of these buildings are coming onto the market for a second time if they are not demolished or abandoned. Garden of Prayer Church of God in Christ, located at 28th and Diamond Streets in the Strawberry Mansion section of North Philadelphia, is in this very position. Founded by Elizabeth J. Dabney over 80 years ago, the African American Pentecostal congregation flourished under the prominent prophet and healer for decades, drawing visitors from the 4 corners of the United States. However, the church came to a crossroads in the early 1990s when it lost a prominent pastor (a successor of Dabney; Dabney herself died in 1967) and its building was destroyed by fire. This caused the church to splinter with one of the resulting congregations establishing Garden of Prayer World Prayer Center in a former movie theater and the other establishing Garden of Prayer Church of God in Christ in a former Roman Catholic complex, which includes a church and rectory. Two decades later, the congregation worships in the rectory’s parlor while the sanctuary sits empty all year round.The congregation hopes to relocate in the near future. Partners’ staff interviewed Rev. Gregory Frison in 2017, who has served the church as pastor since 2001. Rev. Frison explained, If I brought in 10 ministers right now, they would all tell you the same thing.That their vision is that their church will grow and become an organized body of believers that has a large impact on the city. A lot of the time, they’ll buy larger buildings because they’re acting on vision. In the case of Garden of Prayer, desperation also played a role in motivating the congregation to purchase the former Most Blessed Sacrament, which had been on the market for years. 273

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Your faith can be driven by your desperation.You see a building and you say this could work. I believe God is going to make it work. In hindsight, though, I walk into the building and say,‘What possessed them to buy this?’What possessed them to purchase a building that has so many problems? A money pit,” said Frison.12 The combination of the building demanding tens of thousands of dollars in maintenance annually and being ill-fitted for the congregation’s needs (the sanctuary is too large for the 60-person congregation and the rectory is far too small) has affected the congregation’s attitude toward it. Frison explained,“There is a percentage of people who were there before I got there who feel that it’s not their church.Their church burned down … If they tore it down, it wouldn’t hurt.”13 Often,“hermit crab” congregations transition their properties to real estate developers who intend to demolish, clearing the path for new construction.We confirmed this in 2016, when we examined the 28 demolitions that took place between 2009 and 2016 for Hidden City Philadelphia.14 We found: • • • • • •

Of the 28 demolitions, 22 (79%) were associated with development pressure (the pressure to sell to a secular, for-profit real estate developer in an area experiencing rising property values). Of the 22 demolitions associated with development pressure, 20 (91%) made way for new housing. There were no instances in which the congregation that originally erected the building (the first occupant) sold to a developer who planned to demolish. There were 15 instances in which a “hermit crab” congregation sold to a developer who planned to demolish. There were three instances in which a congregation resulting from a merger sold to a developer who planned to demolish. There were three instances in which the congregation’s denominational office—which acquired property upon the congregation’s disbandment—sold to a developer who planned to demolish.

This data suggests that the strength of a congregation’s attachment to its property matters. Attachment substantially affects the building’s outcome—meaning original owners are much less likely to sell to a developer who plans to demolish; they would rather see the building repurposed. However, the mix of buildings affected by this demolition trend is diverse. Of the 37 demolitions that have taken place since 2009 (an additional 9 took place between 2016 and 2019), 7 were built by American Baptist congregations; 7 by Presbyterian congregations; 5 by Methodist congregations; 5 by Roman Catholic parishes; 4 by Episcopal parishes; 2 by African American Pentecostal congregations; and 1 each by Franciscan Catholic, Jewish, Mennonite, Reformed Episcopal, Unitarian Universalist, and United Church of Christ congregations. But let us discuss the reasons why congregations—original occupants and “hermit crabs” alike—are transitioning their buildings, the rationale that informs their decision-making processes, and factors that can be monitored by stakeholders wanting to attend to vulnerable facilities.

Vulnerability and resilience Vulnerability and resilience are at the heart of Philadelphia’s Historic Sacred Places as descriptors of the state of many of the city’s sacred places and indicators of their future well-being. Initially, we 274

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had hoped to classify each of the 22 congregations interviewed via the study as either vulnerable or resilient. It was impossible to do this, however, because any given congregation exhibits signs of both vulnerability and resilience. Further, any given congregation’s building may be separately vulnerable or resilient—depending on the congregational and geographic context. A congregation is vulnerable when one or more circumstances open it up to possible closure or merger. Examples include: • • • • • • • • • • •

Poor leadership Inability to sustain a paid, full-time clergyperson Unstable or changing leadership—including the loss of a beloved, long-time pastor who may have defined the congregation and/or held most of the key relationships A constant, steady decline in membership and giving (in contrast, congregations that are small but stable can persist for many years) Persistent budgetary deficits driven by decreasing contributions and increasing maintenance costs Over-reliance on alternative sources of income, including endowments or rental proceeds Lack of vision or sense of purpose Resistance to change and/or inability to make decisions at key crossroads An antagonistic relationship with denominational leaders (if applicable; not all congregations are associated with a larger governing body) An inability to objectively assess congregational vitality (congregations sometimes opt to close because key leadership is overly pessimistic in regards to the possibility of congregational regeneration) Lack of control over the congregation’s future, which is often the case among hierarchical denominations such as the Roman Catholic church (the Roman Catholic church is one of several denominations that can close or merge a church against the congregation’s will)

A different but related set of circumstances, including both internal and external factors, can render the building vulnerable.A building becomes vulnerable when: • • • • • • • • •

The congregation is not the original owner/occupant, and therefore may have taken on a building with deferred maintenance, and/or may not feel attachment to it The building is mismatched to the size of the congregation—typically too large The congregation cannot afford the annual maintenance costs, often requiring tens of thousands of dollars for purpose-built religious structures The congregation is unable to respond to unexpected, non-routine capital expenses such as a leak in the roof or a broken boiler The congregation has never retained a qualified professional to assess the condition of the building, increasing the chances that costly, unanticipated repairs will arise The congregation has become disconnected from the community in which its building is situated, and/or the majority of congregants are commuters who live in other areas Parking has become a challenge for congregants due to the absence of a parking lot or lack of access to reliable street parking in the vicinity There is pressure to sell due to real estate conditions/market values in the community having reached new highs—often, in these communities, real estate developers target even congregations that have not expressed an interest in selling The congregation's attitude reflects a desire to preserve the institution at any cost to the building 275

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•

The property is not locally landmarked

Consequently, struggling congregations explore the following options: downsizing into smaller, more manageable properties; merging into other, typically stronger congregations; and closing their doors altogether.They explore these options in this order—hoping, first, to keep their faith community together in familiar surrounds, and hoping, second, to keep their faith community together elsewhere.This ability to respond to hardship and adapt to survive epitomizes resilience. But congregational resilience, and their determination to persevere as institutions, ironically can render the historic sacred places they own vulnerable.The case of St. Michael’s Lutheran Church and Pilgrim United Church of Christ illustrates this. When Partners first encountered St. Michael’s Lutheran Church and Pilgrim Congregational United Church of Christ, both housed in historic but unprotected buildings in the Fishtown section of Philadelphia, the churches’ pastors were married, coincidentally, and each of the congregations had found a defining niche. St. Michael’s had evolved to become a de facto community center that shared space with numerous non-profit organizations, including a food co-op and a music-based afterschool program, while Pilgrim served as a safe haven for men in recovery. Although they were both thriving in terms of fulfilling their missions, they struggled to sustain themselves financially. Infusions of cash from the sale of property or bequests—rather than member giving or rental income—has sustained St. Michael’s since the early 2000s. In the early 2000s, the church sold its parsonage in order to extend the life of the church for 5 years; in 2005, an unexpected bequest of $200,000 extended the life of the church for an additional 10 years; and, in 2014, facing closure for the third time in just 20 years, the married pastors merged Pilgrim into St. Michael’s and sold the former in order to keep the latter alive. Pilgrim was sold to a developer who subsequently demolished the 163-year-old church to make way for the construction of 5 townhomes. This clear pattern established by St. Michael’s illustrates the tendency of faith-based institutions to prioritize preservation of the institution over preservation of the building—sometimes, even when it is apparent that the institution’s days may be numbered—and highlights the fact that congregational resilience can render their buildings vulnerable. More affluent and stable congregations transition their buildings as well. This is especially true of commuter congregations (congregations composed of congregants that do not live in the vicinity of their house of worship) in communities experiencing development pressure. In this context, congregations can achieve multiple goals by selling their buildings. They extract the value of the real estate to create a pool of reserve funds that can be used to sustain the congregation; and they create an opportunity to move to what is deemed a more desirable location for the future of their ministry (such as more parking for aging members, a more centralized location to accommodate commuters from larger geographic spreads, etc.). A notable example of this occurred in 2015, when New Hope Temple Baptist Church sold its historic building—which was located in a historically African American neighborhood that was rapidly gentrifying—to a real estate developer who has since replaced it with luxury townhomes.The building, originally home to Union Baptist Church, was where renowned African American vocalist and activist Marian Anderson first performed and where her noted vocal talent was cultivated as a teenager. Even so, there was no formal historic designation protecting it from demolition. Most of the congregations that do this (extract the value of their real estate) are “hermit crab” congregations that move on to other sites. In the case of New Hope Temple Baptist, the congregation moved on to a historic Episcopal church with parking in the leafy and relatively stable Germantown section of Philadelphia. 276

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The loss of New Hope Temple Baptist was not due to the above-mentioned factors alone. This building was demolished without fanfare, despite its connection to Anderson, due to several additional factors. For one, the building was not on the Philadelphia Register of Historic Places. If it had been, the buyer would not have been permitted to demolish it or alter the exterior without express permission from the Philadelphia Historical Commission. Secondly, natural stakeholders such as the area civic organization and Marian Anderson Historical Society & Museum did not organize to oppose the demolition. In Philadelphia, only about 2% of the built environment is protected via landmark designation and, relatedly, threats to architecturally significant buildings tend to generate more public opposition than threats to visually modest buildings that may be significant for other reasons. This trend has greatly affected the modest houses of worship erected by African American congregations during the Great Migration. During the Great Migration, which began in 1916 and ended in 1970, millions of African Americans departed the rural South for cities in the Northeast, Midwest, and West—including Philadelphia.This group established civic infrastructure, including churches, in the cities they adopted. In Philadelphia, these churches were concentrated in historically black neighborhoods adjacent to the urban core—the very areas that are experiencing or have already experienced gentrification. Because they tend to be smaller and feature less architectural ornamentation, the public perceives the loss of one of these buildings as preferable to the loss of an architecturally significant Roman Catholic-built churches or Protestant-built churches. Cumulatively, this has resulted in the demolition of several examples of an important building type and significant cultural moment. Tindley Temple United Methodist Church offers a contrasting example of a commuter congregation contending with development pressure and demographic change. However, it differs from New Hope Temple Baptist in that it erected its building and owns a small parking lot. Situated in a gentrified neighborhood that saw profound demographic change between 2000 and 2010, the church’s signature program (in place since the 1920s) has been its soup kitchen. Although of critical importance to those who utilize it on a daily basis, the soup kitchen is not as relevant to the neighborhood’s new, mostly affluent residents. For this reason,Tindley Temple implemented several strategic changes. First, it upgraded its existing kitchen so that it could be rented to food entrepreneurs when the soup kitchen’s volunteers weren’t using it. Second, it reconfigured some of its administrative space to create office space for non-profit organizations that cannot afford to pay commercial rates.Although there is more work to do,Tindley Temple’s approach effectively redefined its role in a changing community and city.

Lancaster, PA: A small city comparison To deepen understanding of the dynamics at play with historic religious properties in Philadelphia, one can draw comparisons to the nearby and much smaller city of Lancaster, PA. Lancaster County may be familiar to readers for its iconic Amish farms and bucolic countryside, yet the city of Lancaster, with nearly 60,000 residents and as the county seat, sits as a dense urban hub at the center of this rural landscape.The density of Lancaster, combined with its proximity to several of the largest cities on the East Coast, gives it a distinctly urban and cosmopolitan character despite its modest population size. Like many of America’s cities, Lancaster has gone through noteworthy changes to its demographics and built environment in the last half century. Mid-century urban renewal projects leveled one city block of historic storefronts to attempt a modern downtown mall, as well as several blocks of supposedly substandard housing making way for high-rise apartment buildings. The city’s population is about 30% Latino and 14% African American, a substantial shift from 277

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its earlier history as a predominantly white city with a small African American community. Like many larger cities, and in striking contrast to neighboring small cities, Lancaster has experienced a lively resurgence of cultural life in recent decades, with rising housing costs, a thriving gallery district, and a critically acclaimed restaurant scene. Highlighting all of this activity, but to the eye-rolling dismay of local residents, one journalist recently dubbed Lancaster “the new Brooklyn.”15 At the same time, civic leaders struggle to address challenges reflected in a nearly 30% poverty rate—higher than both Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, and mostly concentrated in several densely packed Latino and African American neighborhoods. Lancaster thus provides a useful comparison to Philadelphia.These two cities are dramatically different in scale, yet here too the dynamics of vulnerability and resilience are apparent with the many historic sacred places nestled in the city.Within its city limits, Lancaster has 69 purposebuilt, historic sacred places. Both authors of this analysis are familiar with this landscape, and one (Martin) has lived in Lancaster for over a decade, regularly observing congregational life and building transitions, as well as interacting with local clergy. In addition, an invaluable resource has aided our research in Lancaster. In 1993 the Lancaster County Historical Society published a volume compiling extensive notes and historical data documenting every known house of worship in the county.16 This has provided a touchpoint to assess changes in the religious built landscape over an approximately 30-year period. During 2018 and 2019 the authors conducted an informal sidewalk survey, supplemented by anecdotal information, to document changes in congregations owning historic religious buildings, adapted uses, vacancies, and demolitions across this period. Of the 69 purpose-built houses of worship in Lancaster, only 10 had changed ownership to a second congregation by 1985. Rineer carefully documented changes, including any demolitions or closed congregations up to that date. Since 1985, 24 buildings have changed ownership from one congregation to another. Of these, nearly half are now owned and occupied by Spanish-speaking or predominantly Latino congregations, and the overwhelming majority of these buildings are now owned by congregations of color. This trend parallels the pattern observed in Philadelphia.Yet here, about 35% of the buildings have changed hands at least once, compared to more than half in Philadelphia. However, these transitions represent a significant change in the religious landscape of Lancaster in recent decades, and of course follow demographic changes in the city’s population. Whereas, prior to 1985, only one or two Spanish-speaking congregations existed, now over one third of congregations owning historic buildings are Spanish-speaking and/or predominantly Latino. In sharp contrast to Philadelphia, no historic houses of worship have been demolished since 1985. Only one currently sits vacant, and only two have been adapted to other uses—both converted to housing.This translates to about 5% of all purpose-built historic houses of worship in Lancaster being vacated, torn down, or converted to other uses, versus over 15% in Philadelphia. This could be seen as a strong showing of resilience of Lancaster’s sacred places. Indeed the religious building stock seems to be more stable and perhaps better cared for.Yet the increasing pace of changes in ownership suggests there is increasing vulnerability too. While the rate of building decay may be lagging behind that of Lancaster’s much larger neighbor, we know many of the factors outlined above contributing to congregational and building vulnerability are at play in Lancaster as well.Tracking congregations like Ebenezer Baptist Church will help show how congregational resilience withstands challenging factors. Ebenezer is one of the oldest African American congregations in Lancaster, having occupied a couple of modest buildings in its history prior to purchasing the much larger previous home of St. Andrew’s United Church of Christ in 2013. 278

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While the former congregation had left the building in mostly good condition, Ebenezer has navigated a steep learning curve in managing the aging facility. So far the congregation has been able to balance each new expense and challenge—everything from larger snow- and trash-removal contracts to installing air conditioning in a sanctuary that had been underutilized for years—with energy and revenue from partners sharing the building. Reflecting on lessons learned, Ebenezer’s senior pastor Roland Forbes says, “I wish they would have given us a better feel for the challenges … Had they been able to do so, it would have been really helpful.”17 Judging by the state of affairs in Philadelphia, the fate of Lancaster’s religious architecture depends in large measure on how congregations like Ebenezer fare in the years to come. Many more transitions, and possibly vacancies and demolitions, could be on the way. Rineer’s book, with its snapshot in time 30 years ago, and its detailed documentation of building changes up to that point, provides the opportunity to note which buildings have transitioned to new congregations or other ownership multiple times. Of the 24 buildings that have changed hands since 1985, 10 had already changed ownership at least once prior to 1985. Of those ten, seven had already changed hands multiple times by 1985.And in this subset, while a small sample size, one can see warning signs of what may be to come. From the authors’ sidewalk survey, it seems that several of these buildings are now in substantially deteriorated physical condition and likely have years of deferred maintenance. And the two buildings that have been converted to residential housing units in recent years are from this pool of multiple previous owners. Reflecting on building transitions, Philadelphia’s Historic Sacred Places:Their Past, Present, and Future stated, “If an old building was becoming too expensive for a congregation to handle, the new occupants may soon come to the same conclusion.”18 Or to put it more directly, often congregations–whether knowingly or unwittingly–pass along years of deferred maintenance when they sell a building to a new congregation. Regardless of the good intentions of new owners, such situations can lead to a snowballing of building issues as the building stands through increasing changes in ownership. Added to this the likelihood that more rapid changing of ownership may signal lessening commitment to the long-term building stewardship, and this subset of historic sacred places is quite vulnerable–at risk of becoming blighted, at risk of flipping from a space serving the common good to a private property, at risk of being lost to the built landscape of the city.

A broken legacy of building transitions revisited In 2018, the Eastern Pennsylvania Conference of the United Methodist Church decided to address the broken legacy of building transitions it oversaw during decades of “white flight” in the middle of the twentieth century. During the 1970s, as city demographics changed in Philadelphia, a number of predominantly white congregations were looking to leave their historic facilities, so the Conference worked to transition them to growing African American congregations.Yet, whether intentionally or not, many of the buildings had mounting deferred maintenance needs that have snowballed in recent years as the facilities aged, and the congregations now occupying them were going through their own membership declines.As one reporter put it, what started decades ago as a freebie has turned into a financial millstone. Many of the black churches found themselves saddled with deteriorating buildings that cost a fortune to maintain, forcing them into crippling debt to banks and the denomination itself.19 279

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In this case, the conference took action by passing a resolution to provide debt forgiveness and apologize for past decisions tinged with racism regarding 30 African American congregations.20 It was a momentous action, though largely symbolic. As the pastor of one of the congregations pointed out, few of these debts were likely to be paid given the financial troubles churches like his were facing. David Brown, pastor of Wharton Wesley United Methodist Church, says it was, “Symbolically wonderful. But if you peel back the accounting, [the Conference] was never going to get that money back anyway. But now what? We weren’t able to pay it back, but we still have to pay for the heat,” he says, referring to the ongoing challenge of maintaining their outsized facility.21 The case of Wharton Wesley provides a cautionary tale about how the unexpected crises that inevitably arise in a congregation’s life can derail stability when it is already facing the growing pains of taking on a larger facility. Brown recalls what happened when the church first had the opportunity to consider moving into its current facility from a much more modest building nearby.At the time, the congregation had A charismatic pastor who said,‘Yes, we can do that.’ But he literally died in the church, unexpectedly at a young age. Then the church had a series of pastors who were less visionary.And over time the congregation fell into more of a caretaker mode.22 It turns out that the congregation had moved into the new facility at the peak of its membership size and financial capacity, and has been in decline and facing mounting challenges ever since. Older religious buildings, with their ornate designs and monumental scale, present daunting challenges no matter the owners. But, as the Eastern Pennsylvania Conference learned over years of painful challenges for its member congregations, and as our research reflects, transitioning these challenges from one congregation to the next without thoughtful and transparent maintenance planning creates yet more challenges.

Envisioning alternative outcomes—What makes for healthy transitions? The story of a major Mainline institution apologizing for its past strategies around transitioning buildings to new congregations begs the question–What makes for healthy building transitions with potential to continue a vision of community benefit? Based on Partners’ recent research and work, we highlight several possible alternatives that hold promise for better outcomes.The first two rely on congregations with sufficient resiliency for continuing to steward their facilities well, including a critical mass of volunteer energy and financial viability.They need not be bursting with new members or economically affluent, but they must have some ability to muster people and money.

Training and capacity-building support Building a congregation’s capacity for building maintenance, fundraising, creating strategic partnerships, and assessing its own viability can be a crucial step in strengthening its resilience. Organizations like Partners for Sacred Places and an increasing number of area judicatory bodies have been investing in such training with some success. For example, through a recent program called Sacred Places / Civic Spaces, Partners and Philadelphia’s Community Design Collaborative challenged the notion that demolition and residential conversion are the only options facing at-risk properties, and inspired Philadelphians to imagine an alternative future in which sacred places serve as inclusive community hubs.23 This program assembled working teams, each com280

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posed of a congregation, a community group, and a design firm. Through an iterative design process, each team envisioned solutions for each congregation’s property, creating concepts for renovating, and/or adapting their facilities to better meet the needs of their community and partners. Sacred Places / Civic Spaces aimed to demonstrate that underutilized space in historic sacred properties throughout Philadelphia can be activated in ways that expand the civic commons, serve a larger secular purpose, and strengthen communities while also sustaining congregations themselves. Further, they can develop innovative, replicable models in which older and historic religious buildings house a multitude of co-existing religious and secular uses, and promote understanding of the realities faced by faith communities stewarding these properties. The three Philadelphia congregations selected are predominantly African American commuter congregations (composed of a membership that no longer lives within the vicinity of the building).Two of the three are “hermit crabs,” which own properties that were constructed by previous religious institutions, thus representing the types of congregations at risk of the vulnerability factors listed above. Upon completing the program in 2018, each congregation had deepened relationships with organizations that represented the interests of their immediate communities; raised the public profile of their building, congregation, and programming through substantial press coverage of the project; learned how to work with architects and other professionals while developing an understanding of the important role they play; and had tangible plans in hand for improving their facilities.All services were provided pro bono to the congregations. While this program is too recent to indicate whether or not the buildings featured in Sacred Places/Civic Spaces will fare better than counterparts noted earlier in this chapter, we remain hopeful that such training and capacity-building programs, leveraged at the right time in the life of a congregation and building, can set a more sustainable and viable path.

Infusing capital funds A second alternative is like the first, in that many congregations need infusions of capital funding beyond what their membership can muster on their own if they are to properly attend to years of deferred building maintenance.The apportionment forgiveness granted by the United Methodist Conference and noted above is an example of an important effort to provide the needed capital. This was the rationale behind Partners establishing a national grant-making program in support of congregations’ building needs—the National Fund for Sacred Places.24 For example, Nueva Vida Norristown New Life Mennonite Church, in the small industrial city of Norristown (PA), purchased a historic Methodist church building in the 1990. Nueva Vida was formed through a merger of three culturally distinct congregations that had been planted by Mennonite mission workers spanning most of the twentieth century.After more than two decades of ups and downs managing several adjoining properties (including coming fearfully close to being forced to sell the church building in the wake of the 2009 financial crisis), Nueva Vida was accepted into the National Fund program in 2018. The congregation has developed a rare network of affluent financial supporters from nearby Mennonite congregations who have invested hundreds of thousands of dollars in Nueva Vida’s properties to stabilize and grow a wide array of community programs focused on youth development, conflict resolution, and small business incubation.This support, paired with the anticipation of a substantial capital grant from the National Fund and deeply committed church members, is positioning the congregation to tackle urgent repairs to the historic building, including substantial interior improvements, making it much more serviceable for ministry 281

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in the twenty-first century. These repairs include adding air conditioning to the sanctuary to expand opportunities for use on the hottest summer days, and improving compliance with building standards of the Americans with Disabilities Act to make the facility more accessible.

Guiding transition For congregations that have exhausted the potential of remaining in their property, transitioning ownership may be inevitable. And, unfortunately, when making decisions related to real estate, congregations and denominational leaders tend to lack the knowledge and resources necessary to: • • • • •

Consider and evaluate the full range of options available to them Pursue alternative options, such as partial reuse or “condo-ization” Generate significant, sustainable income Maintain the availability of affordable space for education, social services, and the arts Ultimately, ensure the preservation of their most important buildings

The body of work that is currently available to congregations approaching transition does not address the issue of the building. Rather, it focuses on spiritual discernment practices, organizational decision-making processes, and caring for a community of people mourning the impending loss of their building.25 The building is given only very basic consideration— for example, hiring a realtor and setting a price may be covered—and is treated as a means to an economic end. Likewise, the preservation and planning communities have focused only on traditional interventions designed to prevent demolition and promote restoration, such as historic designation, federal and state grant programs, easements, and heritage tourism.26 For these reasons, Partners (at the time of this writing) is in the process of developing a guide for the responsible disposition and preservation-minded reuse of religious buildings that are on the cusp of transition. We have seen congregations wait too long before coming to the correct and inevitable conclusion that it is no longer possible to remain in their building, inevitably leaving the congregation in a position of vulnerability and with few good options.And we have seen congregations incorrectly determine that they are no longer able to retain ownership of their buildings. Therefore, we encourage congregations to begin to prepare for transition sooner rather than later so that the maximum range of options are available to them. There are many alternatives to selling to developers who are undertaking projects that lack public benefit, including alternatives that may further congregations’ missions and establish a legacy that members can be proud of. Case studies such as that of Church of the Crucifixion— the crumbling African American Episcopal Church turned center for testing new ideas for ministry—can inspire congregations to “think outside the box.” In fact, congregations have more options than ever before in discerning what to do with their building. Across the country, we have seen congregations carefully transition their buildings to stronger congregations. For example, Grace Evangelical Congregational Church constructed its church building in Lancaster City in the 1890s and continued to own and occupy the building for over a century. After decades of changing demographics within and around the congregation, Grace opted to give its building to In The Light Ministries in 2005.This relatively new, vibrant, and intentionally multiracial congregation took over the facility, but continued to share the space with Grace for more than a decade. In Philadelphia, the historic congregation of First 282

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Baptist Church sold its building to a five-year-old congregation that had been renting space in its Center City building. First Baptist, which utilized only a small portion of the building, reinvented itself over the course of the ten years prior to selling its building by transforming it into a de facto community center that housed two theater companies, several non-profit organizations, and a number of support groups. Ultimately, the congregation did not want to manage a building and decided to sell it to a congregation on a different trajectory. We have also seen congregations partner with real estate developers to repurpose their properties on favorable terms. A fine example of this is a project to redevelop most of Mt. Airy Presbyterian Church’s property into 20 housing units. In 2014, the congregation sold the property to a developer, while working out a lease agreement to continue using the sanctuary into the future. The sanctuary will be untouched by the project, while housing units will fill the ancillary spaces.The project is a win–win for all parties involved and is resulting in an example of environmentally sustainable, adaptive reuse of a historic building—a best-practices approach that has since inspired several projects of this type.27 Further, it is adding attractive, affordable housing to the neighborhood. The viability of these types of alternatives, of course, depends on the congregation’s or the judicatory’s willingness to take on such a project, its ability to work with real estate professionals, its willingness to earn a bit less from the sale of its building in service of mission (in some cases, but not always), the market conditions, and the physical limitations of the property itself— including condition, size, configuration/massing, and zoning classification.Yet we are convinced that many historic religious buildings can remain valuable community assets through such creative solutions, even as religious practices change dramatically.

Notes 1 Grace Maiorano,“Historic Bella Vista church hosts baking bread sessions to spur social change,” at South Philly Review (October 14, 2019). Available online at: https://southphillyreview.com/2019/10/14/hist oric-bella-vista-church-hosts-baking-bread-sessions-to-spur-social-change/.Accessed October 30, 2019. 2 This report was commissioned by The Pew Charitable Trusts’ Philadelphia Research Initiative, and the study was conducted by PennPraxis at the University of Pennsylvania, with Partners for Sacred Places, including Rachel Hildebrandt, assisting with research. See: www.pewtrusts.org/en/researchand-analysis/reports/2017/10/philadelphias-historic-sacred-places. 3 Diane Cohen and Robert Jaeger, Sacred Places at Risk: New Evidence on How Endangered Older Churches And Synagogues Serve Communities (Partners for Sacred Places, 1998).Available online at: https://sacred places.org/uploads/files/395429189155295863-spar.pdf.Accessed August 23, 2019. 4 Sacred Places at Risk established a new methodology for documenting the public value of congregations and led to a new course of study inaugurated by Ram A. Cnaan’s book, The Newer Deal: Social Work and Religion in Partnership, with Robert J. Wineburg and Stephanie C. Boddie (New York: Columbia University Press, 1999). See also Ram A. Cnaan, The Invisible Caring Hand: American Congregations and the Provision of Welfare, with Stephanie C. Boddie, Femida handy, Gaynor Yancey, and Richard Schneider (New York: New York University Press, 2002); and Ram A. Cnaan, The Other Philadelphia Story: How Local Congregations Support Quality of Life in Urban America, with Stephanie C. Boddie, Charlene C. McGrew, and Jennifer J. Kang (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006). 5 Martin J. Rosenblum, Attrition Survey of Community-Serving Sacred Places in North Philadelphia, unpublished report (2002). 6 Katie Day coined this vivid term in her book, Faith on the Avenue: Religion on a City Street (Oxford University Press: New York, 2014). See p. 41:“Just as hermit crabs that have outgrown their shells scavenge the beach for larger shells to move into, so do newer, growing congregations move into the shells no longer needed by other religious groups.” 7 Ram A. Cnaan,Tuomi Forrest, Joseph Carlsmith, and Kelsey Karsh,“If you do not count it, it does not count: a pilot study of valuing urban congregations,” in the Journal of Management, Spirituality & Religion (2013).

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Rachel Hildebrandt and Chad Martin 8 The methodology is detailed in: “If you do not count it, it does not count: a pilot study of valuing urban congregations” by Ram A. Cnaan, Tuomi Forrest, Joseph Carlsmith, and Kelsey Karsh in the Journal of Management, Spirituality, and Religion. 2013. 9 The Economic Halo Effect of Historic Sacred Places (Partners for Sacred Places, 2016). Available online at: http://sacredplaces.org/uploads/files/16879092466251061-economic-halo-effect-of-historic-sacredplaces.pdf.Accessed August 23, 2019. 10 Partners’ data differ from national data due to the organization’s focus on older and historic, purposebuilt buildings (the study did not include congregations in other types of spaces).According to the FACT study in 2015, only 62% of all congregations had one or more full-time clergy on staff, down from 71% in 2010. Accessed 17 November 2020.Available online at: https://faithcommunitiestoday.org. 11 “Church Project Theorem: The North Philadelphia Swath of Destruction,” at Philadelphia Church Project. Online at: www.phillychurchproject.com/north-philadelphia-swath-of-de/. This theorem refers to the obliteration of nearly every Roman Catholic parish in North Philadelphia.The wave of decline and decay that turned the Northern portion of the city into a black hole also did a number on its churches.When the surrounding communities were cut down, their parishes didn’t stand a chance.They all fell one-by-one as said wave cut a massive swath of destruction across the North Philly landscape. 12 Interview with Rachel Hildebrandt and John Henry Scott. March 2, 2017. 13 Ibid. 14 Rachel Hildebrandt,“Church demolition by the numbers: more questions than answers,” on Hidden City Philadelphia (December 9, 2016). Available online at: https://hiddencityphila.org/2016/12/churchdemolition-by-the-numbers-more-questions-than-answers/.Accessed August 23, 2019. 15 Raquel Laneri, “This small town in Amish country is the new Brooklyn,” in the New York Post (September 20, 2016). Available online at: https://nypost.com/2016/09/20/the-new-brooklyn-boo gie-on-down-to-buggy-town/.Accessed July 11, 2019. 16 A. Hunter Rineer, Churches and Cemeteries of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania:A Complete Guide (Lancaster, PA: Lancaster County Historical Society, 1993). Research concluded in 1985 at the time of the author’s death. 17 Interview with Chad Martin,August 21, 2019. 18 Philadelphia’s Historic Sacred Places (The Pew Charitable Trusts, 2017), p. 16. 19 Kristin E. Holmes,“United Methodist Church forgives black churches’ debts, and apologizes,” in The Philadelphia Inquirer (July 19, 2018). Available online at: www.inquirer.com/philly/news/united-meth odist-church-forgives-debt-apology-20180719.html.Accessed August 21, 2019. 20 See “Resolution 2018–25: Resolution Relating to an Act of Justice Cancelling all Allowable Apportionments 4 and Other Billings,” p. 37 of unpublished document available online at: www. epaumc.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/2018-Resolutions-4.25-Final-Draft.pdf. Accessed August 21, 2019. 21 Interview with Chad Martin.August 2, 2019. 22 Ibid. 23 See: www.sacredplacescivicspaces.com/. Accessed October 30, 2019. See also: Caroline Cunningham, “Redesigning sacred spaces to serve their communities—and save their congregations,” at Religion News Service (January 2, 2019).Available online at: https://religionnews.com/2019/01/02/redesigning-sacredspaces-to-serve-their-communities-and-save-their-congregations/.Accessed October 30, 2019. 24 The National Fund for Sacred Places is a program of Partners for Sacred Places in collaboration with the National Trust for Historic Preservation with major funding by the Lilly Endowment, Inc.Available online at: https://fundforsacredplaces.org/.Accessed October 30, 2019. 25 See Alice Mann, Can Our Church Live? Redeveloping Congregations in Decline (Alban Institute, 1999); and Keith Spencer, “Assessing Congregational Viability,” in Ending With Hope: A Resource for Closing Congregations, ed., Beth Ann Gaede (Alban Institute/Rowman & Littlefield: Lanham, MD, 2002), pp. 16–29. 26 In recent years there have been a steady stream of news articles highlighting creative adaptive reuse projects in historic religious buildings. But less common is thoughtful news coverage articulating the challenges and opportunities congregations face when making decisions about building transitions. For example, see: C.J. Hughes, “For churches, a Temptation to Sell,” in the New York Times (October 4, 2019). Available online at: www.nytimes.com/2019/10/04/realestate/for-churches-a-temptationto-sell.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&fbclid=IwAR3i3GwGAK53uipDTjNUDeLIoZtC4jpwszN_

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Urban historic sacred places in transition JCxkjOSEjn6Ztoit10pv0k0. Accessed October 30, 2019. See also: Sam Dunklau, “What’s Happening To Illinois’ Sacred Buildings In An Age of Decline?” on NPR Illinois (October 2, 2019). Available online at: www.nprillinois.org/post/what-s-happening-illinois-sacred-buildings-age-decline?fbclid= IwAR1iJfmAPyxiHkcgatKV2YgMJb3zv7QmXGryewtQOO3TksZN3fhWKAwwBTE#stream/0. Accessed October 30, 2019. 27 Arlene Edmonds,“No displacement for Mount Airy Presbyterian Church,” in The Philadelphia Tribune (December 4, 2014). Available online at: www.phillytrib.com/religion/no-displacement-for-mount-a iry-presbyterian-church/article_0f6a1780-5dfd-580f-b563-9858b35b557c.html. Accessed October 30, 2019.Also,Virginia Lindak,“Bancroft Green Gives An Old Church New Purpose In Mt.Airy,” on Hidden City Philadelphia (March 22, 2019). Available online at: https://hiddencityphila.org/2019/03 /bancroft-green-gives-an-old-church-new-purpose-in-mt-airy/. Accessed October 30, 2019. Kristin Holmes,“Congregations sell their deeds in order to survive,” in The Philadelphia Inquirer (September 28, 2018). Available online at: www.inquirer.com/philly/news/church-sell-property-survive-met-phila delphia-tenant-developer-20180928.html.

Bibliography Brown, Rev. David. Interview with Chad Martin.August 2, 2019. Cnaan, Ram A.,Tuomi Forrest, Joseph Carlsmith, and Kelsey Karsh.“If You Do Not Count It, It Does Not Count: A Pilot Study of Valuing Urban Congregations.” Journal of Management, Spirituality & Religion Vol. 10; Issue 1. pp. 3–36 (2013). Cohen, Diane and Robert Jaeger. Sacred Places at Risk: New Evidence on How Endangered Older Churches and Synagogues Serve Communities (Philadelphia, PA: Partners for Sacred Places, 1998). Cunningham, Caroline. “Redesigning Sacred Spaces to Serve Their Communities—And Save Their Congregations.”Religion News Service.Accessed January 2,2019.https://religionnews.com/2019/01/02/ redesigning-sacred-spaces-to-serve-their-communities-and-save-their-congregations/. Day, Katie. Faith on the Avenue: Religion on a City Street (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014). Dunklau, Sam. “What’s Happening to Illinois’ Sacred Buildings in an Age of Decline?” NPR Illinois. Accessed October 2, 2019. www.nprillinois.org/post/what-s-happening-illinois-sacred-buildings-agedecline?fbclid=IwAR1iJfmAPyxiHkcgatKV2YgMJb3zv7QmXGryewtQOO3TksZN3fhWKAww BTE#stream/0. Edmonds, Arlene. “No Displacement for Mount Airy Presbyterian Church.” Philadelphia Tribune. Accessed December 4,2014.www.phillytrib.com/religion/no-displacement-for-mount-airy-presbyterian-church/ article_0f6a1780-5dfd-580f-b563-9858b35b557c.html. Forbes, Rev. Roland. Interview with Chad Martin.August 21, 2019. Frison, Rev. Gregory. Interview with Rachel Hildebrandt and John Henry Scott. March 2, 2017. Hildebrandt, Patrick.“Church Project Theorem:The North Philadelphia Swath of Destruction.”Philadelphia Church Project. www.phillychurchproject.com/north-philadelphia-swath-of-de/. Hildebrandt, Rachel. “Church Demolition by the Numbers: More Questions than Answers.” Hidden City Philadelphia. Accessed December 9, 2016. https://hiddencityphila.org/2016/12/church-demolitionby-the-numbers-more-questions-than-answers/. Holmes, Kristen. “Congregations Sell Their Deeds in Order to Survive.” The Philadelphia Inquirer. Accessed September 28, 2018. www.inquirer.com/philly/news/church-sell-property-survive-metphiladelphia-tenant-developer-20180928.html. Holmes, Kristin E. “United Methodist Church Forgives Black Churches’ Debts, and Apologizes.” The Philadelphia Inquirer. Accessed July 19, 2018. www.inquirer.com/philly/news/united-methodistchurch-forgives-debt-apology-20180719.html. Hughes, C.J. “For Churches, a Temptation to Sell.” New York Times. Accessed October 4, 2019. www.n ytimes.com/2019/10/04/realestate/for-churches-a-temptation-to-sell.html?smid=nytcore-iosshare&fbclid=IwAR3i3GwGAK53uipDTjNUDeLIoZtC4jpwszN_JCxkjOSEjn6Ztoit10pv0k0. Laneri, Raquel. “This Small Town in Amish Country is the New Brooklyn.” New York Post. Accessed September 20,2016.https://nypost.com/2016/09/20/the-new-brooklyn-boogie-on-down-to-buggytown/. Lindak,Virginia.“Bancroft Green Gives an Old Church New Purpose in Mt.Airy.” Hidden City Philadelphia. Accessed March 22, 2019. https://hiddencityphila.org/2019/03/bancroft-green-gives-an-old-churchnew-purpose-in-mt-airy/.

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Rachel Hildebrandt and Chad Martin Maiorano, Grace.“Historic Bella Vista Church Hosts Baking Bread Sessions to Spur Social Change.” South Philly Review. Accessed October 14, 2019. https://southphillyreview.com/2019/10/14/historic-bellavista-church-hosts-baking-bread-sessions-to-spur-social-change/. Mann, Alice. Can Our Church Live? Redeveloping Congregations in Decline (Alban Institute, 1999. Philadelphia’s Historic Sacred Places (Philadelphia, PA: Pew Charitable Trusts, 2017). “Resolution 2018–25: Resolution Relating to an Act of Justice Cancelling all Allowable Apportionments 4 and Other Billings.” www.epaumc.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/2018-Resolutions-4.25-FinalDraft.pdf. Rineer, A. Hunter. Churches and Cemeteries of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania: A Complete Guide (Lancaster, PA: Lancaster County Historical Society, 1993). Rosenblum, Martin J. Attrition Survey of Community-Serving Sacred Places in North Philadelphia. Unpublished Report, 2002. Spencer, Keith.“Assessing CongregationalViability.” In Ending with Hope:A Resource for Closing Congregations, ed., Beth Ann Gaede (Lanham, MD:Alban Institute/Rowman & Littlefield, 2002), pp. 16–29. The Economic Halo Effect of Historic Sacred Places (Philadelphia, PA: Partners for Sacred Places, 2016).

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20 PRAYING WITH OUR FEET Interfaith rituals of disruption and sanctification in the public square Linda Noonan

Jews and Christians holding up purple paper crosses at a Good Friday vigil at a gun shop on a busy Philadelphia street. Muslim, Christian, and Jewish clergy silently processing through the Philadelphia International Airport during Holy Week. A Maundy Thursday foot-washing ceremony unfolding on the plaza of the city’s largest utility company.These are people from different traditions being religious together in public.What is going on here? What is the relationship between the practice of ritual and the production of meaning in urban space? What happens when interfaith social change organizations engage in both traditional and newly constructed ritual practices at sites of violation and opportunity? What does it mean for people of multiple faith traditions to move beyond their congregational walls and converge in ritual ways in the public square? This chapter explores the intersections of activism, social change, religion, ritual, city space, and the ways in which they are navigated, constructed, and interpreted by three faith-based community organizations on which I have done ethnographic research. All three were formed between 2009 and 2011 in Philadelphia. All three organizations place a significant emphasis on liturgical and ritual actions performed in public as one of the strategies for pursuing changes in culture and policy.Their goals differ but their means are resonant: they are Heeding God’s Call to End Gun Violence, POWER (Philadelphians Organized to Witness, Empower, and Rebuild), and EQAT (Earth Quaker Action Team).The public, liturgically oriented, ritual actions explored here took place during Holy Weeks on the Christian calendar between 2011 and 2018. All the rituals examined here represent a commitment to liturgical activism. Here I propose two things. First, that the interfaith organizing culture in Philadelphia suggests a rise in religious ritual practice in public space that leverages faith, builds on both the nonviolent direct action of the Southern Civil Rights Movement and traditional community organizing practices, incorporates influences from Christian and Jewish feminism, is uniquely multi-faith/interfaith, and is anchored in a culture of “holy envy.” Second, that the public ritual actions of these organizations can be understood through a framework that goes beyond traditional understandings of ritual as restorative instruments which function to reproduce social structures, power, and norms. Here, instead, ritual functions as a disruption of that order while also having a sanctifying dimension, i.e., an affirmation of the essential sacredness or holiness of

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aspects of life and lives that are, in many cases, marginalized, erased, overlooked, or undervalued. Here, the profane in urban space becomes sacred through public ritual. These rituals and the work of these three Philadelphia organizations are happening against the backdrop of change in religious affiliation in this country. Americans have left the church in unprecedented numbers.White Christians, once the dominant religious group, now account for less than half of the public. The numbers of non-Christians, as well as the unaffiliated, are growing.America is no longer a majority Christian nation.1 Meanwhile, faith-based community organizing is on the rise.2 There is an increasing amount of scholarship examining not only the sociological and political impact of faith-based community organizing but also its ethical and theological significance.3 Philadelphia appears to reflect and perhaps exceed broader national trends of growth in faithbased community organizing.4 The city has also witnessed a noticeable rise in the practice of interfaith ritual in public space. Interestingly, Philadelphia was the key city in William Penn’s “holy experiment”—a colony built on religious liberty that would welcome people of different faiths— yet has a history as “an inherently parochial city,” a place where “ecumenism has always struggled.”5 Despite the ultimate failure of the holy experiment, in its first 100 years Philadelphia had the highest national concentration of immigrants who brought with them their religious traditions.Today, more than one-quarter of all Philadelphians are immigrants or have immigrant parents.6 “The City of Brotherly Love” is home to American Quakerism, with its high concentration of Quaker schools, colleges, and other institutions, and is the birthplace of religious denominations such as the African Methodist Episcopal Church and Reconstructionist Judaism. On the one hand, the city was a place of refuge for religious minorities and the only place under British rule where Catholics could legally worship in public. On the other hand, it was a place where abolitionists were in conflict with slave owners, pacifists were defeated by those who wanted to raise a militia, and attempts at co-existing with the Lenni-Lenape peoples resulted in their being driven off the land. Religious commitments to diversity and justice were complicated by the structures and trappings of white supremacy and colonialism. Philadelphia, it could be said, both benefits from the holy experiment, and continues to be challenged by parochialism. Often referred to as “Killadelphia” because of its high murder rate, Philadelphia has been ranked as the deadliest big city in America.7 It is also the poorest big city,8 the 4th most segregated big city,9 and is ranked among the 25 worst cities for ozone and particle-pollution.10 These entrenched and complex social problems, along with a religious culture of both diversity and parochialism, create both challenges and opportunities for interfaith organizing. Limited resources, historic patterns of victimization and violence, and ineffective political systems make mobilization difficult.Yet, the strong presence of Quakers, Jews, Muslims, Unitarians, and Black churches in interfaith coalitions interrupts the white Christian hegemony often found in faithbased community organizing. Here we find not only the time-honored tradition of street preaching or church groups demonstrating for a particular cause, but people from different faiths being intentionally religious and ritually expressive together in new ways in public.

Shared approaches to ritual and symbolic action In keeping with the ways in which grassroots democracy has made space for the sacred in the public square,11 EQAT (Earth Quaker Action Team), Heeding God’s Call, and POWER (Philadelphians Organized to Witness, Empower, and Rebuild) are conscious about the ways in which they are engaging in education, advocacy, and change by exercising their faith in explicitly public places. While much of the traditional organizing work takes place outside the public view,12 liturgical and ritual actions are created to be exercised in public, drawing attention to and exposing broken sys288

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tems.They also serve to create and reinforce identity within the organization by eliciting emotion, establishing connection, creating solidarity, and intensifying commitment. While their ritual and symbolic actions differ from one another, all three organizations utilize common elements: gathering at a symbolically significant urban site; expressions of both violation and opportunity; faith reflection (connecting sacred tradition or text to the issue at hand); testimony by someone directly impacted by the issue; singing; and prayer.All three organizations draw on symbols, holy days, practices, and traditions from various religious faiths (for instance, Good Friday, foot-washing, Kaddish prayer for the dead) and material culture (coffins, asthma inhalers, airports) in crafting rituals to explicitly frame particular campaigns or highlight political opportunities.13 While each group has a particular focus for their campaign and their public ritual actions extend beyond those reviewed in this chapter, it is interesting that all three have chosen one of the most sacred times of the Christian and Jewish calendars—Holy Week and Passover—as the frame for ritual action. EQAT leader Eileen Flanagan notes that Holy Week and Passover are liberation stories.“There are so many themes in that week which can be metaphors for our times in different ways, such as ‘Empire.’”14 As we will see, laying the Good Friday symbols of the crucifixion atop the crisis of gun violence, enacting a silent religious procession in a busy airport, praying over spent asthma inhalers in the lobby of an electricity company, or washing feet on a corporate plaza all have the potential to generate new meanings about both the social problems and the sacred rituals.The juxtaposition of traditional and sometimes ancient religious symbols alongside contemporary realities creates cognitive dissonance and highlights the immorality of public policies and practices.The rituals cross-pollinate and create tension; they open up spaces for interpretation, reflection, and, it is hoped, move people to action.They are creative efforts of citizens operating out of deeply held notions of democracy to display and articulate the values, ethics, and standards to which they hold themselves, the public, corporate executives, and elected officials accountable.15

“Praying with our feet” A common reference to this kind of faith-based work by leaders and participants of these actions is Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel’s notion of “praying with our feet.” Heschel, a Polish-born rabbi and theologian, famously joined Martin Luther King, Jr. on the Selma March during the Civil Rights Movement in 1965, which he described as an opportunity to “pray with his feet.” Rabbi Linda Holtzman, Rev. Jarrett Kerbel, and Bishop Dwayne Royster all made reference to “praying with our feet” when describing their engagement in interfaith organizing. Executive Director of Heeding God’s Call, Bryan Miller asserts that “everything we do at Heeding is an act of worship.”16 This can be seen as people of faith gathering to witness at the site of recent murders, erecting memorials for the victims of gun violence, or conducting prayer vigils in front of gun shops. Referring to the public actions of Heeding God’s Call as well as POWER actions such as a “Die-In” at the Eagle’s stadium as a response to the death of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, Bishop Dwayne Royster claims: We’re bringing faith to the public square. It’s all sacred in the sight of God. We are praying with our feet.We bring rituals—liturgy—to the public square. And liturgy is, by definition, the work of the people. It’s the prophetic moment of speaking truth to power while simultaneously speaking truth to the people.17 In addition, all three groups have a history of civil disobedience and understand nonviolent direct action to be part of their “toolkit” of social action. Many of those interviewed expressed 289

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strong support for strategic use of civil disobedience as a powerful liturgical, ritual, and political act.They communicated the power of putting one’s whole self on the line,“praying with your entire being—praying with your body.”18 Several called it a religious and sacred experience, “a Godly way to move toward justice.”19 In recalling POWER’s first consideration of the use of civil disobedience, Rev. Jarrett Kerbel described it as “a threshold moment. Liturgy is full of thresholds. Getting arrested together is new ground of risk and intimacy for us.”20

Communicating messages of violation and opportunity “When we do liturgy in public, we are drawing attention to places of violation or opportunity.”21 Speaking about Heeding God’s Call and POWER, Rev. Kerbel captures the ritual and liturgical acts of all three of organizations reviewed in this chapter in significant ways. Each of the public actions highlights a practice that privileges profit over the common good and offers an alternative vision. In all cases, as we will see, the public ritual opens spaces where public norms are displayed and debated.22

POWER: Philadelphians Organized to Witness, Empower, and Rebuild History and mission PICO (now Faith in Action), a national network of faith-based community organizations, sent an organizer to Philadelphia in 2010 to begin a series of conversations to explore the possibility of launching a new interfaith organization. After hundreds of people participated in trainings and research meetings and had what in organizing parlance are referred to as “one-to-one conversations” sharing pain and hopes, a desire to engage in common work emerged. POWER was formed in 2011 with 40 member congregations of Christian, Jewish, and Muslim affiliations. A five-part, multi-year platform was affirmed—Jobs, Education, Housing, Public Safety, and Healthcare.The first priority would be addressing the issue of jobs. Compared to the larger population of Philadelphia, POWER has a higher representation of Protestants, Jews, and Muslims, but is racially more or less representative of the city.23 When compared to national faith-based community organizing trends,24 POWER has more Jewish and Muslim and fewer Catholic participants than national averages. The goal of POWER is policy change. It seeks to bring a broad-based and prophetic “people’s voice” to public decisionmaking and achieves this by gathering together large numbers of people to hold public officials, and themselves, accountable to make concrete policy changes.25

Silent airport vigil POWER’s first public, liturgically oriented action occurred six months after its founding. Having identified the proposed expansion of the Philadelphia International Airport as an opportunity to address unemployment in the city, POWER decided to focus its first campaign on increasing wages for outsourced airport workers on city contracts.26 Holy Week/Passover was chosen as the time to liturgically and politically “come out” to the residents and political leaders in Philadelphia.While POWER did not make explicit use of some of the Holy Week or Passover symbols, it intended to leverage the religious energy and attention of this holy time for Jews and Christians to lay claim to the airport as sacred ground. In so doing, it hoped to expose both the injustices of current practices (tipped airport workers making as little as $4.00 an hour for full-time work with no benefits) and the opportunities for change (potential for the creation of jobs that would lift people out of poverty). 290

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POWER did this by gathering clergy in their full clerical vestments as well as a number of unemployed members wearing t-shirts proclaiming, “Put me to work and our city will work.” After meeting with elected officials at City Hall, they processed through the Philadelphia streets and on public transportation to the airport.After prayer and testimony by those who have struggled with unemployment and poverty, they processed in a single-file line in silent prayer from one end of the airport to the other. Nothing indicated to the public why dozens of clergy in collars, cassocks, robes, kippahs, thobes, albs, and prayer shawls who seemed to be praying would silently walk through one of the busiest airports in the world. It piqued curiosity and attempted to draw attention to the fact that something was happening at the airport, priming the social pumps for the framing and proposed solutions POWER would then provide. Questioned by the police, Bishop Dwayne Royster, POWER Executive Director at the time, responded,“‘We’re praying.’We were conveying the notion that the issues of airport expansion, unemployment, and poverty are important to the Divine. God’s people take this seriously and we believe we have something to say about it.”27

Earth Quaker Action Team (EQAT) History and mission Earth Quaker Action Team (EQAT) is a grassroots, nonviolent action group of Quakers and people of diverse beliefs working for a just and sustainable economy. Founded in 2010 in Philadelphia, EQAT’s first successful campaign—a five-year series of sustained, national, nonviolent direct actions on local bank branches, shareholder meetings, and corporate headquarters—pressured PNC Bank, a historically Quaker bank and primary financier of mountaintop removal coal mining, to change their investment policy and withdraw funding from corporations involved in extractive practices that were having devastating human and environmental consequences in Appalachia. This “David and Goliath” victory led to a second campaign launched later the same year. “Power Local Green Jobs” called on Pennsylvania’s largest utility company, PECO, to make a significant shift away from fossil fuels and create opportunities in communities most at risk from “dirty energy” that were most in need of the kinds of jobs that investment in solar energy would provide.This commitment would not only reduce Pennsylvania’s impact on climate change, but would address the unemployment, poverty, and crumbling infrastructure in Philadelphia’s lowincome communities and communities of color. EQAT joined with POWER as a partner in this campaign. Drawing on the legacy and strategies of the Civil Rights Movement, the organization’s approach to change was rooted in Martin Luther King, Jr.’s conviction that “nonviolent direct action seeks to create such a crisis and foster such a tension that a community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue.”28

Rituals of mourning, reckoning, and vision Having spent two years attempting to negotiate with the utility company, EQAT determined it was time to “raise the ante.”29 “Raising the ante” involved consecutive actions over several days during Holy Week 2018. The actions were designed to draw attention to the devastating effects of climate change on human life, make the public aware of PECO’s complicity in “dirty energy” practices and their human consequences, and deepen the organization’s commitment to a campaign that would require increased sacrifice. Drawing on the symbolism of Christian Holy Week, the actions highlighted the themes of mourning and reckoning.The 2-day actions 291

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included 25 people who were prepared to risk arrest. By the end of the actions, all 25 had been arrested. The “Day of Mourning” involved a silent procession through Philadelphia streets to the utility company, located on one of the city’s busiest thoroughfares. Gathered on the building’s plaza, the “mourning ceremony” began with the rending of a garment (a traditional religious gesture symbolizing death and loss), wailing, and dance. Following speakers and singing, hundreds of spent inhalers from one single elementary school in a city neighborhood that contains numerous “persistently dangerous” schools30 were dumped onto a coffin. The “Mourner’s Kaddish,” the Jewish prayer for the dead, was recited by a local rabbi. Those risking arrest—seven Quaker and Mennonite religious leaders as well as Christian clergy—entered the lobby of the utility company, sat in a circle, and began worshipping in the traditional Quaker practice of observing silence as well as a more traditional Christian form of worship that included singing and sharing. One African American pastor in the group shared his “coming to consciousness” about the impacts of the oil refineries and coal and gas plants on poor, Black, and brown Philadelphians while confessing,“I don’t know how to get this message across to my people.” Indicating the lobby of waiting utility customers (all people of color), one leader said, “Why don’t you try telling them?” Meanwhile, the police waited for the group to disperse, reluctant to take action. Upping the “ante,” the group stood, faced the room of customers, and the Black pastor began to “preach.” Initially unresponsive and clearly skeptical, those in the waiting area soon grew animated, responding to his questions about the impact of asthma and lung-related diseases in their families, and began to express outrage. It was at this point that the religious leaders were arrested.31 The “Day of Reckoning,” centered around a public, ritual foot-washing as a symbolic way of preparing for the anticipated sacrifice of campaign intensification. Traditionally associated with Maundy Thursday observances in the Christian tradition, which reenacts the story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples, those gathered washed the feet of the 18 people risking arrest and then, in turn, washed one another’s feet, symbolically expressing belonging and commitment.The ritual is an intimate one. Despite being a traditional Christian practice, many of those participating were Quaker or from other non-Christian traditions, so it was a new experience for them. Many were anxious.While EQAT could quite easily have conducted this ritual in a more private space as preparation for the public encounter with the utility company and the planned civil disobedience, they chose instead to do the ritual on the utility company plaza in a crowded urban area.According to Board Member Walter Sullivan, I’m going to take off my shoes in public on a street corner and allow someone to wash my feet. It’s a very intimate thing. To do that in public—in front of the community, security guards, the police—it communicated the depth of our commitment and the solemnness of the issue. It mirrored the vulnerability of the whole campaign. In order to have a successful campaign, we need to do things that are outside of our comfort zone—we need to risk arrest, speak powerfully to the powerful, and transcend and transgress social norms.32

Heeding God’s Call to End Gun Violence Good Friday gun shop vigils It was Good Friday in Philadelphia. All across the city, Christians were gathering in churches to remember Jesus’ Seven Last Words. But in one neighborhood, several hundred people 292

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processed through the street in the tradition of ancient pilgrimages that recalled the final journey of Jesus to his death on the cross. They carried banners and a large wooden cross, and were accompanied by a drummer. Nearing their destination, flanked by police and TV cameras, they were confronted by counter-protestors sitting atop pickup trucks with NRA (National Rifle Association) decals, waving American flags, drowning out the drumming with air horns. As they taunted the protestors over a bullhorn, some had guns clearly visible, defiantly strapped to their belts. The cross stopped in front of a local business—a gun shop—whose owner was known to illegally sell guns to straw purchasers.33 An open-air worship service began.There was singing, prayer, a responsive litany, and a sermon—standard elements of Christian liturgies. But these were not just Christians—there were also Jews and Muslims, including a rabbi who spoke. Each person gathered clutched a purple piece of paper in the shape of a cross, inscribed with the name, age, and date of death of one of the nearly 250 people who had died by gun violence in Philadelphia the previous year.The story of Jesus’ death and crucifixion was recounted, and the names of the dead on the crosses were spoken out loud. A woman who lost her son to a shooting shared her pain, and a man paralyzed by a stray bullet from an illegally trafficked gun called on the owner of the gun shop to change his business practices and sign what is known as a “Code of Conduct.”34 All this was punctuated and interrupted by the taunts and jeers of the protestors. One revved his motorcycle repeatedly during the prayers. Another had arranged for a local ice cream truck to park itself at the perimeter, playing the insipid “Mister Softee Jingle” continuously, drowning out the sermon.The preacher stopped, and the savvy worshippers decided that if you couldn’t beat the ice cream truck, you could join it. They took up the refrain from the litany and the sermon, singing the words “Sign the Code, Sign the Code” with passion and a fair amount of volume, to the tune and beat of the music of the ice cream truck.

“Memorial to the Lost” Heeding God’s Call has also created a traveling exhibit entitled, “Memorial to the Lost.” Described by the organization as a “visible education tool,”35 it is a display of roughly 300 t-shirts with a name, age, and date of death of each person killed by gun violence the previous year.The t-shirts are placed in the front yard of a church, synagogue, mosque, or religious organization. It is a dramatic and graphic representation of violation.The opportunity is the invitation to a raised consciousness which, it is hoped, will lead to action. Rev. Kerbel described it this way: The memorial is a very powerful, visual way of communicating something that can be very abstract. People drive by, walk through, coming in two, three, or four. It’s a rhetorical address in symbolic form.You hope that people integrate it—that it will come out in the wash someplace in their voting habits or the way they relate to their politicians.You can’t tell how people voted, but you hope it changes something.36

History and mission Unlike many interfaith organizations, Heeding God’s Call to End Gun Violence was not founded or created by local or national organizers. It emerged in 2009 out of a growing awareness of the link between the rise in violence and death in Philadelphia and the sale of illegally trafficked guns.A series of initially impromptu prayer vigils held outside a local gun shop led to the nonviolent civil disobedience of 12 clergy and laypeople who entered the gun shop, kneeled 293

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to pray, and refused to leave until the owner signed the “Code of Conduct,” making the illegal purchase of guns far less likely. The arrest of the “Heeding Twelve” sparked significant public interest and led to the gun dealer being charged in federal court for the sale of illegal guns, eventually leading to the closure of the store. Noticing that local people from different religious traditions were drawn to public, faith-based, ritual action, and that their engagement in these actions seemed to galvanize and mobilize them in important ways that led to structural change, a decision was made to form an organization that would focus on sustained, multi-faith activism. The “heroic” narrative about the arrests and the closing of Colosimo’s Gun Center has been important to the organization and functions to fuel the movement. As the organization’s origin story, it reminded people of the potential for “wins,” and created a shared identity in the hope that comes out of the history.37 Unlike most gun violence prevention efforts, which work on legislative change, Heeding God’s Call focuses primarily on changing culture in the belief that, on the sensitive and divisive issue of gun control in America, a cultural change is a necessary precursor to legislative change. They sense that faith-based, liturgical, ritual action conducted in public is a key element to this change.According to Founder and Executive Director, Bryan Miller,“What we are really about at Heeding God’s Call is trying to prevent gun violence and we do it through worship. I believe that if Jesus were in the flesh today, he would be out at the gun shop.”38

Creating a culture of “holy envy” According to one clergy leader,“the rituals I find the most powerful are those that come out of the particularities of someone else’s religious tradition and use it to move toward justice.”39 For POWER, EQAT, and Heeding God’s Call, it is faith that fuels the work.40 Some trace the roots of the word “religion” to the Latin word religare, referring to binding or the ligament tissue that connects body parts. Religion has the capacity to bind us, not just to our own traditions, but to one another. One participant at a POWER gathering put it this way, “We are bound together in faith even when our faiths are different.”41 This is the kind of “bridging social capital” that creates “bridging institutions” that link civic, political, and economic levels of the public sphere and contribute in a unique way to American democracy.42 Some faith-based community organizing, such as that associated with Ernesto Cortes and his work with Industrial Areas Foundation (IAF) affiliates, takes a more “tradition-neutral” approach to religious traditions—highlighting unity, aiming for language that is more universal, with less of an emphasis on explicitly interfaith, liturgical, ritual action.43 Others, such as POWER, EQAT, and Heeding God’s Call take a more “tradition-full” approach—attempting to bring the best of a variety of traditions and create new ones in ways that elicit what Krister Stendahl has dubbed, “holy envy”—a deep appreciation and admiration for the traditions of others.44 This approach does not flinch from the particular, but embraces difference even when inevitable tensions may arise, believing that the relationships that lie at the foundation of this kind of organizing will create the trust needed to weather such tensions. By confronting and wrestling with difference, those involved develop increased capacity and skills in negotiating difference within the organization, as well as in their own personal lives. Organizing across difference also heightens participants’ awareness of the gifts that individuals and faith traditions have to offer, increasing a sense of interdependence. In these contexts, religion is not simply exploited for its utility, nor is it understood to be just one more identity category. It is, instead, as Melissa Snarr notes, a way of seeing and acting in the world.45 294

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Rabbi Linda Holtzman speaks to the impact of the “holy envy” that emerges when the particularities are celebrated. She has spoken at Heeding’s Good Friday Gun Vigil many times. When I was first asked to speak, I thought they were making a mistake because I’m a rabbi. Metaphorically, Good Friday is the moment when everything is lost, even God. Everything is dead.There is no hope.You don’t know Easter Sunday is coming.That doesn’t mean I have to have exactly the same belief system. But I do get the emotional and symbolic weight of Good Friday. I can stand up and say ‘I’m here as an ally’ and say that when all is lost—everyone has been shot, and gun violence continues, and when we are in mourning for all the names we have called—that we can be together as a community.We can stand up and walk together toward Easter Sunday. I can be who I am as a Jew and stand up at a Good Friday Service and not be dishonest.And that for me has been the best experience I’ve had of understanding that religious confluence. Because when I’m moved, it moves me to do more work and be really present in new ways to these issues.46

Interfaith prayer—A peculiar and radical act Prayer is used by the three organizations in all their public liturgical actions. Eileen Flanagan talks about the ways in which public liturgy and prayer create a needed space to reflect on the millions of lives already lost due to climate change,“Even doing this work, we often don’t pause to remember that we’re talking about life and death.”47 In the context of interfaith prayer, Rev. Dr. Leslie Callahan adds, “I’m not just praying when I pray. I am also praying when the imam prays, I’m also praying when the rabbi prays.”48 Those interviewed experienced prayer as a positive experience. However, several pointed to deeper complexities that arise from the interfaith and racially/culturally diverse nature of, particularly, POWER. Many clergy from the Black church tradition hold dear to the practice of praying “in Jesus’ name.” This is one of the places where affirming difference can be complex. Faith-based groups such as POWER experience tension around the question of prayer. How does an interfaith organization lean fully into the richness of its multiple traditions while cultivating the participation of communities of faith that have traditionally been marginalized and oppressed? What does it mean, in light of the complex histories of white supremacy and Christian hegemony, to both support and affirm elements of the black church tradition, such as praying “in Jesus’ name,” while honoring the ways in which Jews and Muslims have historically been the victims of violence in that name, and their experiences continue to be disregarded or erased by supercessionist Christian theology? Religious leaders negotiate this in different ways. Interfaith minister and EQAT Board Member, Rev. Rhetta Morgan welcomes people praying out of the fullness of their tradition, even when particular language may not resonate with others. “My voice isn’t the only one needed. Bring your Jesus, bring fully all of who you are.We need that.”49 POWER leader, Rev. Dr. Leslie Callahan explains that it is her tradition to pray in Jesus’ name, but that when praying in an interfaith context, she attempts to be inclusive in her language.“Praying,” she offers,“ is a peculiarly important part of interfaith organizations. It is radical act.”50 This peculiar and radical nature of interfaith prayer leads to a rich and complex mix of hesitation, ambivalence, resistance, connection, and breakthroughs.While there is no formal policy in POWER, there has been considerable conversation and reflection on the practice of public prayer. Two unwritten, if somewhat conflicting, guidelines have emerged: people should “pray from their own tradition,” identifying that tradition in advance (for instance,“I will be praying in 295

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the Christian tradition”); and efforts should be made by Christians in particular to end prayers in more inclusive ways. More work and conversation, at least in POWER, would be useful to more deeply explore the uses and meanings of interfaith prayer, and how it might be approached and received for, as one faith leader puts it,“When someone else is praying in POWER, I’m always trying to decide whether I can say “amen.”51

The complex symbolism of clerical vestments In both Heeding God’s Call and POWER, there is an emphasis on clergy wearing traditional vestments.52 This has been expressed through internal communications as well as publicly announced in media advisories that proclaim “VISUALS: Dozens of faith leaders in clerical attire. Many dozens of people faith singing and praying.”53 The symbolism of vested clergy harkens back to the Southern Civil Rights Movement in which the image of clergy engaging in nonviolent civil disobedience—recognizable by their collars, stoles, and other religious garb—being beaten, sprayed by fire hoses, or attacked by dogs highlighted the violence of law enforcement and conveyed the moral and prophetic role of the clergy in the movement.There is an implicit and explicit understanding by leaders and staff in both organizations that when clergy wear their liturgical vestments to public events, several things will be communicated: first, that the work of the organization is supported by clergy and leaders from multiple faith traditions; second, that having clergy appear in clerical dress in public is visually interesting for media; and third, that donning the religious symbolism of vestments communicates the moral authority that clergy bring to the justice issue. Religious leaders in both organizations regularly express complex and often conflicting perspectives on vestments, including what may be communicated through these symbols, and the sometimes-problematic message about the moral authority of clergy. For Rev. Kerbel, When I wear my clerical garb in a public action, I am signaling that something of sacred value is at risk.We’re hallowing secular space by invading it with symbols of the presence of God. The POWER calculation is that if we are religious leaders, people will take us more seriously. I don’t know if that’s true or not.At some moments I’ve felt mixed about wearing vestments—are we exploiting symbolism? Is our moral authority contested? Is the symbolism coherent?54 Rev. Dr. Callahan relays the complicated nature and complex symbolism of vestments, particularly for a younger generation alienated from religious and cultural institutions: I don’t want us to overstate the implications of our suiting up. I don’t expect people to do things just because I said they should. In some instances, we are asserting a moral authority that we haven’t actually earned. Sometimes I think we put on our costumes and we look like peacocks, wanting people to look at us. But there’s a reason everybody’s tradition has garments. These are opportunities to have an embodied sense of our purpose and mission. If we thought of these public actions as worshipful activity, then it would help us not to feel like we were in costume. Instead, we would be suiting up.What that looks like is interfaith, intergenerational.That looks like the Kingdom of God … We need to lock our arms with younger folks, to say,‘We failed you. But we’re here with you now.’ If we decide to get arrested, my message to those young people is this: ‘I’m putting on this collar to say your life, your education, is worth more.’ From the synagogue to the mosque, to the cathedral, to the store front, to the masjid—we all agree that this is so.That’s powerful.55 296

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The symbolic significance of space The site of each gathering for all three organizations is carefully selected. Many social change groups choose a site for public action based primarily on public exposure—the most heavily trafficked intersection in town, for instance. Instead, EQAT, Heeding God’s Call, and POWER locate public actions in urban places where the very space itself is symbolically significant. The public actions of these groups occur on ground that signifies violation and/or opportunity. POWER, with its wide range of issues and current campaigns has a much wider but no less symbolically significant repertoire of space use than Heeding God’s Call or EQAT.A number of its public actions regarding jobs and the living wage took place both outside and inside the airport. Prayer vigils and actions have been held at City Hall, the governor’s office, the state capital, school district headquarters, and outside the sports arena following a football game—all signifying an opportunity for access to power. Heeding’s public actions have frequently taken place at neighborhood gun shops and sites of recent gun violence.They also have gathered in spaces for public demonstrations such as City Hall, processions up Broad Street during end of day traffic, or the Constitution Center. These spaces are both highly visible as well as significant in their “public square” nature.The annual Good Friday services have been held in front of gun shops, city schools, or neighborhoods with high rates of gun violence. EQAT’s actions have focused on the city’s utility company, processions through neighborhoods hardest hit by pollution and poverty, and the dropping of a banner from one of the city’s tallest buildings. In all these cases, space is not simply chosen for its utilitarian purposes (of public exposure), it is being reclaimed and deemed sacred. Spaces are sacred, Jonathan Z. Smith would argue, because people make them so. Sacredness is situational and socially constructed.56 In a similar way, Ronald Grimes argues that places not traditionally associated with ritual become ritual space because the participants deem it so.57 The convergence of symbols and ritual practices normally associated with particular places and traditions of worship now executed in public spaces calls into question our notion of social space as divided between public and private, secular and religious. By doing worship and liturgy in public, secular space becomes religious space.Through these ritual actions, previously profane spaces of gun shops, impoverished neighborhoods, airports, and even utility companies become sanctified, sacralized. In some cases, this is because communities deem space sacred, and in others, it is because the worshippers or participants themselves may perceive a substantive power and presence of the divine.58 In either case, religious space is powerful space,59 space which—as these rituals above remind us—“is not placid,” but contested, controversial, and often the site of threat or conflict.60 Describing some of the liturgical acts of these organizations, Rabbi Holtzman captures Durkheim’s “collective effervescence,”61 as well as Smith’s notion of situational sacredness: What happens when we pray or do ritual together at the site of a violation? It fuels people, aware that they're moving something in the world. And that there's a shift—a larger shift in the universe. I’m not just doing a political act. This is a religious and political act. Saying,‘This is a sacred act’ makes it so.62

Rituals of disruption and sanctification I propose that the ritualizing63 and traditioning64 practices of Heeding God’s Call, EQAT, and POWER can be held by a larger framework of both disruption and sanctification. This is a departure from the traditional ritual theory in which these concepts are contrasted. From 297

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Durkheim to Turner, ritual has been understood to anticipate and preempt the disruption to society and individuals caused, for instance, by changes associated with individual lifecycle and social status.65 The emphasis on stability and continuity, and the rule-governed character of this classic way of understanding ritual serves to, according to Van Gennep, “cushion the disturbance”66 caused by changes in social states.This leaves little room for improvisation or adaptation, either over time or by individuals or communities who consciously or unconsciously use ritual to create new roles, alter the distribution of power, or create new forms of community or experiences of spirituality. In this approach, worship, as the act of affirmation and sanctification of collective identity, is placed in opposition to disruption, which is in turn associated with secular civil life. In the public actions of all three organizations, the goal of ritual is not to confirm the dominant order, but to problematize and interrogate it, to disturb it, and to offer alternative visions and narratives. It does this not by precluding disruption but inciting or creating it; not separating the sacred from the profane, but holding them in creative and transformative tension. This offers the possibility that rituals can be instruments, not just of social cohesion and replication, but change.67 The public ritual actions undertaken by these Philadelphia organizations have roots in the Southern Civil Rights Movement and practices and traditions of Alinsky-based community organizing.68 They have also been influenced by Christian and Jewish feminism as well as Reconstructionist Rabbinical Judaism, which all have histories of creative ritual practice. The actions are intended to disrupt the consciousness of anyone walking or driving down the street and to invite them into moral outrage by communicating that a violation is taking place in our public and shared lives—the high rate of gun violence, poverty wages for city workers, or climate change.They are designed to create, not cushion, disturbance. In addition to disruption, I would suggest that much of the public ritual actions of these groups also serve to “sanctify” or make sacred or holy a space, a person or groups of people, an institution, or an issue. In all the rituals described here, those most affected by the policies, or public or corporate practices that result in poverty, violence, environmental racism, and climate change, are the poor and Black and brown communities. Raising up the names and lives of those who are disproportionately affected by gun violence, poverty wages, and environmentally related diseases such as cancer and asthma disrupts the narrative that these lives and these communities do not matter. Gathering a religiously diverse group of people to do obviously religious things in public urban space during the holiest days in the Christian tradition at a gun shop, airport, or a utility company is a disruption. It disrupts people’s understanding of the religious meaning of Holy Week. It displaces Jesus from the center of the traditional Good Friday narrative and overlays onto the cross the names and bodies of over 200 other people slain by illegal guns. It reinterprets the commitment and sacrifice associated with Maundy Thursday foot-washing when those whose feet have been washed offer themselves for arrest at the company which profits from “dirty energy.” And it creates confusion and interest when clergy snake through airport corridors in silence. These are acts of disruption, and disruption is a form of worship.There’s a disruption that comes, shakes things up and causes things to be different. But they are not just a ‘one-off ’ disruption.We have to disrupt the systems that oppress us over and over again until justice reigns.69 This form of disruption creates potential for change at two levels. First, by intervening in the everyday routine of people’s lives and suspending the normal flow of their actions, it creates a temporary, liminal moment in which people ask “What is wrong?” and “What is going on?” 298

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This liminality creates conditions for critical self-awareness that can become building blocks for transformation, seen in the spontaneous preaching in the utility company lobby. Second, disruption pushes back at dominant narratives—“the way things are.” It opens a space for other visions and possibilities.Third, disruption provides opportunities for self-reflexivity among those participating in the ritual. It raises awareness of the relationship of self to society as well modeling democratic modes of action in the prosecution of the ritual itself. All three organizations utilize the disruptive power of public worship to call into question dominant narratives and status quo. For POWER, the notions of “politics-as-usual” are called into question, for Heeding and EQAT, the notions of “business-as-usual” are disrupted. All three testify to the holiness of the lives who suffer in the grab for power and profit. All three are attempting to “shine a light on broken systems.”70

Conclusion Rituals serve to not only confirm or upend the social order, they also reveal, create, and express how our knowledge is developed, and what we imagine for ourselves and our world. Ritual shapes us. Many carry vestiges of colonization and domination in bodies and psyches and spirits; it is internalized. Then it is replicated unknowingly or unwittingly. Rituals and liturgies such as the Airport Vigil, PECO Holy Week Actions, and Good Friday Gun Shop Vigils have the potential to invite individual and organizational reflexivity by challenging dominant social and religious narratives, interrupting privilege,71 opening observers and participants to collaboration and vulnerability,72 accessing the “insurrection of subjugated knowledges,”73 and moving us closer to a more just and democratic world.74 All three organizations negotiate and develop language, ritual, and symbol in an attempt to express common values, honor multiple faith traditions, express grievances, communicate moral urgency, propose solutions, galvanize support, and seek to create change. They also creatively weave together symbol and space—joining familiar symbols and familiar spaces in unexpected ways, creating disruption, new meaning, and sanctification—as well as surfacing issues of power, knowledge, change, authority, and citizenship. Post-colonial liturgical theologian, Cláudio Carvalhaes writes about the ways in which liturgy and ritual interpret the life of the individual and their group, as well as the world itself.75 These ritual public actions aimed at raising the crisis of gun violence, the need for living wage jobs, and the human cost of dirty energy policies not only disrupt “business as usual” in the public square, but they surface questions about who is present and who is absent, who speaks and who is silent, how bodies are honored or shunned, whose lives matter, and whose do not. Church people participate in displacing Christian hegemony by working alongside people of other faiths, practicing “holy envy,” ceding space and assumed leadership, challenged to be aware of language and symbols, leveraging some of the most central religious symbols in new ways, and crafting rituals and liturgies together that speak to the pain and suffering in our shared worlds.White people practice honoring Black and brown lives not just from the comfort and safety of their own communities and sanctuaries, but by worshipping in vulnerable and contested urban spaces, engaging in nonviolent direct action, risking arrest, and speaking the names of those who have died—proclaiming:“This death is morally unacceptable.This life is holy.This place is sacred.” Creating and engaging these and similar rituals of faith-based organizations gives people the opportunity to not only imagine a new world, but to practice being the new world. Eileen Flanagan of EQAT reflects, “Collectively, we’ve remembered that what we do makes a difference.”76 POWER, EQAT, and Heeding God’s Call to End Gun Violence are building their work around the ways ritual public action can, and sometimes does,“carry the seeds for this possible world.”77 299

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Notes 1 The decline in religious affiliation and the shifting religious landscape in America are well-documented. See Robert P. Jones, The End of White Christian America (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2016); Pew Research Center, “‘Nones’ on the Rise,” Pew Research Religion and Public Life Project, October 9, 2012, www.pewforum.org/2012/10/09/nones-on-the-rise/; and Daniel Cox, Robert P. Jones, Ph.D., “America’s Changing Religious Identity,” September 6, 2017, www.prri.org/research/american-reli gious-landscape-christian-religiously-unaffiliated/. 2 Brad Fulton and Richard L. Wood, “Interfaith Community Organizing: Emerging Theological and Organizational Challenges,” in Yours the Power: Faith-Based Organizing in the USA, eds, Katie Day, Esther McIntosh, and William Storrar (Leiden: Brill, 2013), pp. 17–39. 3 For more on faith-based community organizing and bridging social capital, see Richard L.Wood and Mark R.Warren,“A Different Face of Faith‐based Politics: Social Capital and Community Organizing in the Public Arena,” International Journal of Sociology and Social Policy 22, No. 9/10 (October 2002). For broader treatment of the theological and political significance of faith-based community organizing, see C. Melissa Snarr, All You That Labor: Religion and Ethics in the Living Wage Movement, Religion and Social Transformation (New York: New York University Press, 2011), Luke Bretherton, Christianity and Contemporary Politics: The Conditions and Possibilities of Faithful Witness (Chichester, West Sussex, UK; Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009); Jeffrey Stout, Blessed Are the Organized: Grassroots Democracy in America (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013); Mary McClintock Fulkerson and Marcia W. Mount Shoop, A Body Broken, a Body Betrayed: Race, Memory, and Eucharist in White-Dominant Churches (Eugene, Oregon: Cascade Books, 2015); and Katie Day, Esther McIntosh, and William Storrar, eds, Yours the Power: Faith-Based Organizing in the USA (Leiden: Brill, 2013). 4 While more work needs to be done on the statistics of faith-based participation in Philadelphia, the presence of at least four faith-based organizations using community organizing approaches for policy change (POWER, EQAT, Heeding God’s Call, and New Sanctuary Movement) suggests that Philadelphia reflects or exceeds national trends. Further, since their founding, all four organizations have regularly employed liturgically based ritual in public actions. 5 Katie Day, “Church-based Community Organizing: Philadelphia Perspectives.” (Revised Discussion Paper Presented at the 1997 Annual Meeting of the Association for the Sociology of Religion and in 1998 Volume 4 on COMM-ORG: The On-Line Conference on Community Organizing and Development, https://comm-org.wisc.edu/papers98/warren/faith/day.html). For more on the community organizing done in the 1990s in Philadelphia, particularly among Black clergy, see Katie Day, Prelude to Struggle (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2002). 6 Pew Charitable Trust,“Philadelphia’s Immigrants,” https://pew.org/2swfWPw. 7 “The Five Most Surprisingly Dangerous Big Cities in America,” October 9, 2019, www.safety.com/ dangerous-cities/. 8 Darryl C. Murphy, “Poverty Still Plaguing Philadelphia, Poorest Big City in the Country,” WHYY, September 14, 2018, https://whyy.org/articles/poverty-still-plaguing-philadelphia-poorest-big-cityin-the-country/. 9 Holly Otterbein,“Philly is the 4th Most Segregated Big City in the Country,” Philadelphia, September 22, 2015, www.phillymag.com/citified/2015/09/22/philadelphia-segregated-big-city/. 10 “Air Quality in Philadelphia Metro Area Again Worsened for Ozone Smog,” April 24, 2019, www. lung.org/local-content/_content-items/about-us/media/press-releases/air-quality-in-philadelphia. html. 11 Jeffrey Stout, Blessed Are the Organized: Grassroots Democracy in America (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2013), p. 217. 12 In addition to the public actions, all three organizations utilize traditional organizing techniques such as phone-banking, letter-writing, research, relationship-building, and meetings with public and religious officials. 13 For more on political opportunity theory, see Doug McAdam, Political Process and the Development of Black Insurgency 1930–1970 (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press), 1982. 14 Eileen Flanagan (EQAT Member and former Board Member), interview with author October 8, 2019. 15 Jeffrey Stout, Democracy and Tradition, New Forum Books (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005), pp. 4–7. 16 Bryan Miller (Executive Director of Heeding God’s Call), interview with author October 29, 2014.

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Praying with our feet 17 Bishop Dwayne Royster (Former Executive Director of POWER and clergy leader in Heeding God’s Call to End Gun Violence), interview with author September 17, 2014. 18 Rabbi Linda Holtzman (Clergy leader in Heeding God’s Call to End Gun Violence and POWER), interview with author November 25, 2014. 19 Ibid. 20 Rev. Jarrett Kerbel (Clergy leader in Heeding God’s Call to End Gun Violence and POWER), interview with author September 25, 2014. 21 Ibid. 22 Craig, David Melville. “Debating Desire: Civil Rights, Ritual Protest, and the Shifting Boundaries of Public Reason,” Journal of the Society of Christian Ethics 27, No. 1, March 1, 2007, pp. 157–82. 23 As of 2018, POWER was roughly one-third Black Christian, one-third white Christian, and one-third Jewish, Muslim, Humanist, Unitarian, or multiracial Christian. POWER is currently expanding beyond Philadelphia to become a state-wide network, a shift which will inevitably change the religious and racial balance. 24 Richard L. Wood, Brad R. Fulton, and Kathryn Partridge, “Building Bridges Building Power: Developments in Institution-Based Community Organizing” (New York: Interfaith Funders, 2012), https://cpb-us-w2.wpmucdn.com/blogs.iu.edu/dist/4/9/files/2016/12/Wood-Fulton-and-Partridge_ 2012_Building-Bridges-Building-Power-1b2mjew.pdf. 25 POWER website, https://powerinterfaith.org/mission-and-history/. 26 The Economic Dignity Campaign which began with a focus on the Philadelphia International Airport expanded and ultimately resulted in POWER’s work to get a citywide referendum passed in 2015 which mandated a $12.00 hourly wage for all city subcontracted workers. In 2016, POWER worked with Philadelphia City Council to ensure that all projects involving public dollars paid workers a fair and livable wage. 27 Royster, interview. 28 From EQAT website, www.eqat.org/our_mission and Martin Luther King, Jr. “Letter from a Birmingham Jail.” 29 Walter Sullivan (EQAT Board Member), interview with author October 9, 2019. 30 Laura Cofsky, “SEPTA’s Plan for Natural Gas Plant May Put Nicetown Residents in Harm’s Way,” Hidden City, January 27, 2017, https://hiddencityphila.org/2017/01/septas-plan-for-natural-gasplant-puts-nicetown-residents-in-harms-way/. The Pennsylvania Department of Education labels schools with a certain number of violent incidents as “persistently dangerous.”While this designation is based on violent criminal encounters, because of their proximity to toxic fuel sites such as oil refineries, chemical plants, and garages that expose residents to dangerous levels of chemical and other toxins, the neighborhoods with the most dangerous schools are also the neighborhoods with disproportionately high rates of childhood asthma—often four times that of an average American child. 31 It should be noted that the author was among those participating in this action and was also arrested on this day. 32 Sullivan, interview. 33 Straw purchases, the most common form of gun trafficking, are criminal acts in which guns are bought by one person on behalf of another who is legally unable to make the purchase themselves. Often, the person prohibited from buying firearms is present, sometimes negotiating the sale and even putting money on the counter while the “straw purchaser” provides identification that would pass a background check. 34 The Code of Conduct is a voluntary 10-point agreement signed by firearms dealers that implements responsible business practices which prevent straw purchases by gun traffickers and acknowledges the role that gun dealers play in protecting the public from gun violence. Walmart, the country’s biggest seller of guns, adopted the Code of Conduct in partnership with Mayors Against Illegal Guns in 2008. 35 www.heedinggodscall.org/memorials-to-the-lost. 36 Kerbel, interview. 37 A prolonged presence of protestors outside several gun shops and multiple Good Friday Vigils at the same businesses have not yet led to the signing of the Code of Conduct, but they did lead to the implementation of some of the measures of the code by some of the Philadelphia gun shop owners. 38 Miller, interview. 39 Holtzman, interview. 40 POWER and Heeding God’s Call are explicitly interfaith. EQAT, while founded by Quakers and rooted in Quaker principles, is increasingly multi-faith in its membership and public actions.

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Linda Noonan 41 POWER member speaking at 100 Leader Gathering in West Chester, Pennsylvania, September 6, 2019. 42 For more on faith-based community organizing and bridging social capital, see Richard L.Wood and Mark R.Warren,“A Different Face of Faith‐Based Politics: Social Capital and Community Organizing in the Public Arena,” International Journal of Sociology and Social Policy 22, No. 9/10 (October 2002): pp. 6–54. doi:10.1108/01443330210790148. 43 For a discussion of the limits of a multicultural approach to organizing, see Vincent Lloyd,“Organizing Race:Taking Race Seriously in Faith-Based Community Organizing,” Journal of Religious Ethics 42, No. 4 (December 2014): pp. 640–60. doi:10.1111/jore.12076. 44 Bishop Krister Stendahl, a Swedish theologian, is accredited with “Three Rules of Religious Understanding,” originally issued at a press conference in Stockholm, Sweden in 1985 as ground rules of interreligious dialogue: 1) if you want to understand another religion, ask its adherents, not its enemies; 2) don’t compare your best to their worst; and 3) leave room for “holy envy.” 45 C. Melissa Snarr, All You that Labor: Religion and Ethics in the Living Wage Movement (New York: New York University Press, 2011). 46 Holtzman, interview. 47 Flanagan, interview. 48 Rev. Dr. Leslie Callahan (POWER Clergy Leader), interview with author October 30, 2014. 49 Rev. Rhetta Morgan (EQAT Board Member), interview with author October 13, 2019. 50 Callahan, interview. 51 Ibid. 52 EQAT, founded by Quakers, has less of an emphasis on clerical vestments as Quakers, for the most part, do not have ordained clergy. 53 Heeding God’s Call Media Advisory, December 17, 2012. 54 Kerbel, interview. 55 Callahan, interview. 56 Jonathan Z. Smith, To Take Place:Toward Theory in Ritual (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1987), pp. 76–95, pp. 115–6. 57 Ronald L. Grimes, The Craft of Ritual Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), pp. 256–9. 58 Mircea Eliade describes this as axis mundi. Mircea Eliade, Patterns in Comparative Religion (New York: Meridian Books, 1958). 59 Jeanne Halgren Kilde, Sacred Power, Sacred Space: An Introduction to Christian Architecture and Worship (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008). 60 David Chidester and Edward T. Linenthal, eds, American Sacred Space (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1995), pp. 16–20. 61 French sociologist Émile Durkheim coined the term “collective effervescence” to describe how ritual experiences can intensify, galvanize, and enlarge religious experience, generating “a kind of electricity that quickly transports them to an extraordinary degree of exaltation.” Émile Durkheim, Carol Cosman, and Mark Sydney Cladis, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), p. 162. 62 Holtzman, interview. 63 For more on ritualization, see Catherine Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009) and Ronald L. Grimes, Marrying and Burying: Rites of Passage in a Man’s Life (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1995). 64 Orlando Espin, Idol and Grace: On Traditioning and Subversive Hope (New York: Orbis Books, 2014). 65 There is a general consensus in Religion and Social Science literature that ritual is a key component in all religious traditions. It is generally viewed as a formalized aspect of religion in which words, symbols, and gestures are used in routinized performances with little or no variance over time.Through these features of repetition and formality, ritual provides a sense of solidarity and distinct identity for the community of faith while also reinforcing a sense of continuity between the faith community in the present and its past. According to traditional ritual theory of Émile Durkheim, Arnold Van Gennep, and Victor Turner, ritual functions to reinforce the rules, customs, and norms of society. It renews our shared and corporate identity and serves to maintain order. It also confirms and reconstitutes the social order and position of each person in it. It is ritual which also facilitates the transition from one position in society to another, as is the case with initiation rites. In this way, then, ritual becomes the matrix of our social and symbolic lives, reinforcing spiritual solidarity and cohesion.

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Praying with our feet 66 Arnold Van Gennep,“The Classification of Rites” in The Rites of Passage (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1960), p. ix. 67 A framework built around the dialectical relationship of disruption and sanctification helps overcome some of the shortcomings of traditional ritual theory. First, it avoids the teleological problem in approaches to ritual that view ritual as having clear goals, such as integration of individuals following a change in social status. Here the focus is on the ritual process itself and its transformative possibilities not just for the larger society, but for the individuals and organizations as well. In contrast to this picture of ritual as a self-fulfilling prophesy, I propose a process-based approach in which goals are embedded in the methods and process of ritual practice. In other words, the ritual process itself already models an alternative vision of society in which critical citizenship is linked to public responsibility. Second, it avoids the typological problems in traditional ritual theory in which rituals are isolated into self-enclosed types. Here, each ritual moment mobilizes aspects of different types in one total series of actions. For instance, most of the Heeding God’s Call public actions include elements of what would traditionally be called “rites of lamentation” and “rites of intensification.” Multiple ritual aspects are happening simultaneously. 68 Saul Alinsky, co-founder of the Back-of-the-Yards Neighborhood Council and founder of the Industrial Areas Foundation, is known as the father of modern day community organizing. 69 Royster, Philadelphia Die-In Action, December 7, 2014. 70 POWER website, Mission and Values 71 McClintock Fulkerson, Mary and Marcia W. Mount Shoop. A Body Broken, A Body Betrayed: Race Memory, and Eucharist in White-Dominant Churches (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2015). 72 Diana L. Eck, Encountering God:A Spiritual Journey from Bozeman to Banaras (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2003). 73 Michel Foucault,“Two Lectures,” in Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972–1977, ed., Colin Gordon (Brighton: Harvester, 1980), p. 81. 74 Walter Mignolo, “Epistemic Disobedience, Independent Thought and Decolonial Freedom,” Theory, Culture & Society 26. No. 7–8 (2009): p. 1, quoted in Liturgy in Postcolonial Perspectives: Only One is Holy, ed., Cláudio Carvalhaes (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), p. 9. 75 Cláudio Carvalhaes, ed., Liturgy in Postcolonial Perspectives: Only One is Holy (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), p. 3. 76 Flanagan. 77 Carvalhaes, p. 3.

Bibliography American Lung Association. “Air Quality in Philadelphia Metro Area Again Worsened for Ozone Smog, Finds 2019 ‘State of the Air’ Report, Had Best Ever Results for Year-Round Particle Pollution.” American Lung Association. Accessed April 24, 2019. www.lung.org/local-content/_content-items/ about-us/media/press-releases/air-quality-in-philadelphia.html. Bell, Catherine. Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992). Bretherton, Luke. Christianity and Contemporary Politics: The Conditions and Possibilities of Faithful Witness. First Edn (Malden, MA:Wiley-Blackwell, 2009). Callahan, Leslie. Interview by Author. St. Paul’s Baptist Church, Philadelphia, PA, October 30, 2014. Carvalhaes, Cláudio, ed., Liturgy in Postcolonial Perspectives: Only One Is Holy. 2015 Edn (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015). Chidester, David and Edward Tabor Linenthal. American Sacred Space (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1995). Cofsky, Laura.“SEPTA’s Plan for Natural Gas Plant May Put Nicetown Residents In Harm’s Way.” Hidden City Philadelphia. Accessed January 27, 2017. https://hiddencityphila.org/2017/01/septas-plan-for-nat ural-gas-plant-puts-nicetown-residents-in-harms-way/. Craig, David Melville.“Debating Desire: Civil Rights, Ritual Protest, and the Shifting Boundaries of Public Reason.” Journal of the Society Of Christian Ethics 27, No. 1 (2007): pp. 157–82.ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials, EBSCOhost.Accessed September 9, 2014. Day, Katie.“Church-Based Community Organizing: Philadelphia Perspectives.” Church-based Community Organizing: Philadelphia Perspectives, paper presented on COMM-ORG: The On-Line Conference on Community Organizing and Development. 1998.Accessed November 17, 2020. https://comm-org. wisc.edu/papers98/warren/faith/day.html.

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Linda Noonan Day, Katie, Esther McIntosh, and William Storrar, eds, Yours the Power: Faith-Based Organizing in the USA (Boston, MA: Brill, 2013). Day, Katie. Prelude to Struggle:African American Clergy and Community Organizing for Economic Development in the 1990’s (Lanham, MD: UPA, 2002). Durkheim, Émile, Carol Cosman and Mark Sydney Cladis. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001). Eck, Diana L. Encountering God: A Spiritual Journey from Bozeman to Banaras (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2003). Eliade, Mircea. Patterns in Comparative Religion (New York: Meridian Books, 1958). EQAT.“Our Mission.” Earth Quaker Action Team.Accessed February 26, 2020. www.eqat.org/our_mission. Espin, Orlando. Idol and Grace: On Traditioning and Subversive Hope (New York: Orbis Books, 2014). Flanagan, Eileen. Interview by Author.Video, October 8, 2019. Foucault, Michel. Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972–1977. Edited by Colin Gordon. First American Edn (New York:Vintage, 1980). Fulkerson, Mary McClintock and Marcia W. Mount Shoop. A Body Broken,A Body Betrayed: Race, Memory, and Eucharist in White-Dominant Churches (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2015). Fulton, Brad and Richard L. Wood. “Interfaith Community Organizing: Emerging Theological and Organizational Challenges.” In Yours the Power: Faith-Based Organizing in the USA, edited by Katie Day, Esther McIntosh and William Storrar (Boston, MA: Brill, 2013). Grimes, Ronald. The Craft of Ritual Studies (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014). Heeding God’s Call. Media Advisory, December 17, 2012. Heeding God’s Call.“Memorial to the Lost.”Accessed October 19, 2014. heedinggodscall.org. Heeding God’s Call to End Gun Violence. “Memorials to the Lost.” Heeding God’s Call to End Gun Violence.Accessed February 26, 2020. www.heedinggodscall.org/memorials-to-the-lost. Holtzman, Linda. Interview by Author. Interviewee’s home, Philadelphia, PA, November 25, 2014. Jones, Robert P. The End of White Christian America. Simon & Schuster (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2016). Kerbel, Jarrett. Interview by Author. High Point Cafe, Philadelphia, PA, September 25, 2014. Kilde, Jeanne Halgren. Sacred Power, Sacred Space:An Introduction to Christian Architecture and Worship (Oxford : Oxford University Press, 2008). Lloyd,Vincent.“Organizing Race:Taking Race Seriously in Faith-Based Community Organizing.” Journal of Religious Ethics 42, No. 4 (2014): pp. 640–60. doi:10.1111/jore.12076. McAdam, Doug. Political Process and the Development of Black Insurgency, 1930–1970. Second Edn (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1999). Mignolo, Walter. “Epistemic Disobedience, Independent Thought and Decolonial Freedom.” Theory, Culture & Society 26, No. 7–8 (2009): p. 1, quoted in Liturgy in Postcolonial Perspectives: Only One is Holy, Cláudio Carvalhaes, ed. (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015). Miller, Bryan. Interview by Author. Chestnut Hill Coffee, Philadelphia, PA, October 29, 2014. Morgan, Rhetta Morgan. Interview by Author.Video, October 13, 2019. Murphy, Darryl C.“Poverty Still Plaguing Philadelphia, Poorest Big City in the Country.” WHYY. Accessed September 14, 2018. https://whyy.org/articles/poverty-still-plaguing-philadelphia-poorest-big-cityin-the-country/. Otterbein, Holly. “Philly Is the 4th Most Segregated Big City in the Country.” Philadelphia Magazine. Accessed September 22,2015.www.phillymag.com/citified/2015/09/22/philadelphia-segregated-bigcity/. Pew Charitable Trust.“Philadelphia’s Immigrants.”Accessed February 26, 2020. https://pew.org/2swfWPw. POWER.“Mission and Values.”Accessed November 17, 2014. www.powerphiladelphia.org/who/mission. Royster, Dwayne. Comments made at POWER “Die-In.” Near Lincoln Financial Field at Broad and Pattison Streets, Philadelphia, PA, December 7, 2014. Royster, Dwayne. Interview by Author.Trolley Car Diner, Philadelphia, PA, September 17, 2014. Safety.com.“The 5 Most Surprisingly Dangerous Big Cities in America.”Accessed January 20, 2015. www. safety.com/dangerous-cities/. Smith, Jonathan Z. To Take Place: Toward Theory in Ritual. Reprint Edn (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1992). Snarr, C. Melissa. All You That Labor: Religion and Ethics in the Living Wage Movement. Religion and Social Transformation (New York: New York University Press, 2011). Stout, Jeffrey. Blessed Are the Organized: Grassroots Democracy in America (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2010).

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Praying with our feet Stout, Jeffrey. Democracy and Tradition (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004). Sullivan, Walter. Interview by Author. Haverford College, Haverford, PA, October 9, 2019. Turner,Victor. “Communitas: Model and Process” in The Ritual Process (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1985). Van Gennep, Arnold. “The Classification of Rites” in The Rites of Passage (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1960). Wood, Richard L. and Mark R. Warren. “A Different Face of Faith‐Based Politics: Social Capital and Community Organizing in the Public Arena.” International Journal of Sociology and Social Policy 22, No. 9–10 (2002): pp. 6–54. doi:10.1108/01443330210790148. Wood, Richard L., Brad R. Fulton, and Kathryn Partridge.“Building Bridges Building Power: Developments in Institution-Based Community Organizing.” NewYork: Interfaith Funders. 2012. Accessed November 17, 2020. https://cpb-us-w2.wpmucdn.com/blogs.iu.edu/dist/4/9/files/2016/12/Wood-Fulton-andPartridge_2012_Building-Bridges-Building-Power-1b2mjew.pdf.

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21 COMMUNITY ORGANIZING AND CONGREGATIONAL AGENCY IN SHAPING CITY LIFE Trey Hammond and Phil Tom

“Seek the welfare of the city … for in its welfare, you will find your own.” Jeremiah 29:7 The authors will explore the overarching framework for this volume,“analyzing the interactive relationship of religion in its urban contexts,” from the perspective of practitioners.1 From our work in urban churches, we understand the ways congregations are shaped by the neighborhood and city where they are located, as large societal forces and powerful institutions come to bear. In response, congregations can act with significant agency in shaping the social reality of their context. In our experience, community organizing is one of the most effective ways for congregations to have an impact on their urban setting, by joining forces with other institutions and acting on shared interests. Community organizations are powerful, multi-institutional coalitions that carry the ethical and social concerns of their constituent institutions, primarily communities of faith, but also schools, unions, and non-profits, into the public arena. At the same time, community organizations develop leaders in urban neighborhoods for effective engagement in the democratic process. Congregations find the disciplines and practices of community organizing an effective way of exerting political power and engaging some of the larger systems and problems that face urban neighborhoods. There are several different ways that these institution-based community organizations are identified. In the Protestant Christian tradition, these community organizations, primarily comprising religious congregations and communities, are typically called CBCOs (CongregationBased Community Organizations) or FBCOs (Faith-Based Community Organizations). In the academic world, they are often referred to as IBCOs (Interfaith-Based Community Organizations). Since these organizations also have non-religious institutions, they are sometimes called BBCOs (Broad-Based Community Organizations) or IBCOs (Institution-Based Community Organizations).Though these names have slightly different nuances, they all refer to a movement of similar community organizing strategies that are employed by several different training networks. The modern American community organizing movement traces its beginnings back to the October of 1939. It sprang from a creative interaction of faith communities and the labor move306

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ment in the Back of the Yards neighborhood, a few miles south of downtown Chicago. Two historic meetings took place over the course of a weekend. On a Friday night, the Back of the Yards Neighborhood Council (BYNC) gathered for its first large public meeting. Some 350 people were in attendance, representing several Catholic parishes, service organizations, and union affiliates. One of the primary organizers of the meeting was a criminologist from The University of Chicago named Saul Alinsky. The agenda for the meeting included several pressing community issues, as well as an overture to the Armour meatpacking plant leadership to avert a strike by meeting with the local union.This historic meeting of the BYNC marked the beginning of the community organizing movement.2 At the time, Chicago was a patchwork of neighborhoods of immigrants, largely Roman Catholic, from many European countries. Many immigrants worked in factories and were active in labor unions.The Roman Catholic Church had enormous influence and power in city politics. On Sunday evening, the Packinghouse Workers of Chicago (PWOC) met to discuss a national strike against four major meatpacking plants.There were some 10,000 union members and neighborhood supporters in attendance, including Bishop Bernard Shiel, whose public posture of solidarity with the union was a huge step forward in the Catholic Church’s engagement with social justice issues locally. The bishop’s embracing of BYNC’s community organizing efforts gave it legitimacy and opened doors for others to engage. The overall organizing leader of that meeting was John L. Lewis, the national president of the Committee of Industrial Organizations (CIO).3 That these meetings happened on the same weekend was no coincidence, as this was a community in crisis. Providentially, two visionary leaders were drawn to addressing the injustice issues facing that neighborhood. John L. Lewis was at the peak of his leadership in revitalizing the labor movement and his tactics were bold and effective. Saul Alinsky was working as a research sociologist in the community and became increasingly interested in direct action. From his exposure to labor organizing efforts, he began to see his work in the community through the lens of creating collective institutional power. Coming off the success of the BYNC, Alinsky established the Industrial Areas Foundation (IAF) in 1940, which became the base for his national organizing efforts. He expanded the work to other communities and began to train organizers. His unique approach to organizing was collected in a couple of critical books, Reveille for Radicals and Rules for Radicals. Alinsky’s organizations evolved as broad-based, multi-issue power institutions. Their tactics were sometimes controversial, because, Alinsky argued, conflict and tension were often necessary to create the climate for change and to hold those in power accountable. For example, The Woodlawn Organization in Chicago’s Southside once hauled loads of trash from an absentee landlord’s apartment complex and dumped it in the owner’s front yard in a northern suburb.The action was designed to pressure him to respond to the tenants’ demands for more trash bins and pickups and the “shaming” tactic worked. As the community organizing movement evolved over the decades, its strategy focused increasingly on building relational power for people to act together in public actions and hold those in power accountable. Building power by way of hundreds of individual and small group meetings was one of the movement’s distinguishing and sustaining characteristics. Effective organizing campaigns are possible when there are strong social capital and social trust, which emerges out of organizational attention to relationship-building, both at the individual and institutional levels. In the mid-1960s, leadership at the national office of the Presbyterian Church, spearheaded by Rev. George Todd, began supporting the community organizing movement by providing 307

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grants and training leaders.Todd was one of many national Protestant leaders, including urban ministry staff persons in the Methodist, Lutheran, Episcopalian, and United Church of Christ denominations, who saw the importance of community organizing as a way for urban congregations to reconnect with their communities by working on issues like public education, racially motivated housing discrimination, and fair wages.They were interested in moving beyond charity toward justice, focusing more on public policy efforts to address the root causes of social problems. Up until this concerted Protestant effort, the Roman Catholic Church was the main religious community significantly involved in and financially supporting of organizing.The Presbyterian Church (USA) and other Protestant churches began earmarking grants for community organizing. However, the Catholic Campaign for Human Development is still the largest source of funding for community organizing and has been for decades.The community organizing movement, which began in a Catholic parish in Chicago, has flourished primarily because of the strong investment and participation of faith institutions over time. In the eight decades since the establishment of the IAF, broad-based community organizing has emerged as a major social justice movement. Interfaith Funders initiated a survey in 2010, undertaken by sociologists Dr. Richard Wood and Dr. Brad Fulton, to assess “the state of the field.” Some 189 FBCOs were identified across the nation. Of the 4,500 member institutions identified as belonging to FBCOs, about 3,500 (78%) were faith communities.The remaining members were schools (4%), unions (3.4%), neighborhood associations (2.9%), and other non-profit organizations (11.7%). Of the member congregations, traditional Protestant denominations account for 32%, Catholic 27%,African American Protestant 24%, Jewish 5%, Evangelical Protestant 4%, Unitarian/ Universalist 4%, Pentecostal 2%, Muslim 1%, and other non-Christian traditions 1%.4 The strong Protestant involvement presently reflects the credentialing of community organizing by denominational staff that encouraged local congregations to engage.Also, as new organizing training networks arose in different parts of the country, similar in style to IAF, there was a concerted effort in the South to recruit African American congregations. The movement has been intentional in recent decades to also include faith communities from Jewish, Muslim, Unitarian, and other traditions. Congregation-based community organizing has been successful in building significant relationships across the faith, racial/ethnic, and economic divisions that often fragment communities. The Interfaith Funders 2010 survey of congregations involved in community organizing identified that 46% were predominately Anglo, 30% were predominately African American, 13% were predominately Hispanic, and 11% identified themselves as “other.”5 Note that communities of color tend to be over-represented when compared to the general population. A community organization’s agenda, its focus for action, emerges from distilling hundreds of conversations among people in its member institutions into consensus issues. As people talk about their concerns and aspirations, in either individual or small group meetings (typically called “house meetings”), what emerges from these conversations is the identification of people’s self-interests. As community organizations frame it, self-interest is not to be confused with selfish interest; rather, self-interests are the driving concerns in someone’s life—family, health, career, faith, safety, etc. These concerns matter enough to motivate people into public life. Both individual and house meetings seek to solicit stories about people’s lives and values, as well as stories about how an issue, like neighborhood safety, might be playing out in their lives. Knowing another person’s self-interest and life story is the beginning of building a “public relationship.” When leaders intentionally initiate more public relationships with a diverse set of colleagues, they are building relational power to have agency together. 308

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When a sufficient number of people share a set of similar self-interests, that concern has the potential to coalesce into a priority issue for the FBCO’s work. Some of the primary issues commonly addressed include public education, local economy and jobs, affordable housing, health care, behavioral health access, police reform, immigrant justice, and neighborhood safety. Because these are broad-based organizations, with numerous member institutions, FBCOs may work on multiple issues concurrently. FBCOs are committed to being politically non-partisan.Their involvement in electoral politics, then, is typically in holding large “accountability sessions” with potential or current officeholders to determine the public official’s stands on the issues identified by the FBCO. These accountability sessions typically have several hundred people in attendance. Candidates running for office are not endorsed or campaigned for, but their responses to the agenda issues of the organization are disseminated. The FBCO secures a commitment from each official to meet after the election and begin work on the issues if they win the vote. Dr. Katie Day, in the introduction to Yours The Power: Faith-Based Organizing in the USA, says of this strategy, Due to the commitment not to forge permanent alliances (‘no permanent allies and no permanent enemies’), FBCOs remain militantly non-partisan, cultivating an organizational discipline to stay focused on a goal and a capacity to reward or punish public officials.6 By being non-partisan, and not beholden to any candidate, they maintain their power to critique when necessary. Also, FBCOs will not take any government monies to support their operating budgets, as they would be compromised if they ever needed to hold that funding institution accountable. Community organizing, over time, has demonstrated its capacity to make a significant difference across the country on important sectors of the society. For example, in the arena of jobs and the economy, FBCOs have had a major impact by organizing numerous “living wage” campaigns across the country. The first “living wage” ordinance was adopted in Baltimore in 1994 and it required that the businesses doing contract work with the city must pay their employees a living wage, versus a minimum wage that just keeps a family above the poverty level, which at the time was $8 per hour. BUILD (Baltimoreans United in Leadership Development), an IAF affiliate, was the principal catalyst in the passage of the ordinance. In researching wages, it was clear that the well-paying union jobs of the decreasing industrial base were being replaced by lower-paying service- and tourist-industry jobs. BUILD held several accountability sessions with the mayor to push forward an agenda of livable wages. If the city raised the bar on salaries, then other governmental and business sectors would be forced to follow suit.When the ordinance passed, nearly 2,000 workers immediately realized salary increases that enabled them to live more comfortably. Since the passage of that campaign, dozens of other cities have adopted “living wage” ordinances.Valley Interfaith, in South Texas, won a first-ever “living wage” policy in a public-school system in McAllen,Texas. More than 400 employees received wage increases of more than $2 per hour. Several other districts followed suit. Altogether, Valley Interfaith has won raises for 3,400 public employees.7 From its beginnings in a Chicago neighborhood in crisis, the community organizing movement continues to evolve, adapt, and grow.The major community organizing training networks include IAF (Industrial Areas Foundation, which is the oldest network), PICO (Pacific Institute for Community Organizing, which is now Faith in Action), DART (Direct Action Research and 309

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Training), the Gamaliel Foundation, IVP (Interfaith Valley Project), RCNO (Regional Council of Neighborhood Organizations), and others. Many FBCOs nationally are under ten years old. As these organizations mature, their capacity to exercise the values of their faith and democratic communities in the public square expands. Central to the success of this style of organizing is the staying power of institutions—faith communities, schools, unions, and non-profits. By focusing on institutions as the locus of an FBCO’s power, there is a stability generated by the member institutions being committed for the long haul, even as individual leaders in an institution may move in and out of organizing activity.The human and fiscal resources of the member institutions allow the FBCO to be able to sustain the long engagement necessary to address complex justice issues. Community organizing stresses that there are two types of power—“the power of organized people” and “the power of organized money.” The member institutions bring both of these sources of power to the table. Institutions also bring legitimacy, historical rootedness, and communities of shared values. They have connections, sometimes to national resources.They can provide meeting spaces and infrastructure. Their members, collectively, and the institutions, corporately, have economic power. By way of concrete examples of how community organizing provides agency for congregations, consider La Mesa Presbyterian Church, in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where one of the authors (Trey Hammond) has served as the Senior Pastor for over two decades.The congregation belongs to Albuquerque Interfaith (AI), an affiliate of the IAF network. Soon after arriving as pastor in 1999, Hammond found that the early childcare program operating at La Mesa Presbyterian Church, run by a non-profit agency, was facing potential closure.The city was planning to drastically curtail early childhood education grants to community-based preschools.There was already a shortage of quality early childhood education and the loss of this center presented a real crisis for the families in the neighborhood.The congregation connected with Albuquerque Interfaith and other agencies whose preschools were also facing serious budget cuts.This coalition conducted “research actions” with city staff to understand the cuts and why these agencies were the ones targeted. It was discovered that the city was addressing a budget shortfall by severely cutting its allocation to the social service budget, as opposed to having all the city departments absorb marginal reductions. Albuquerque Interfaith organized a campaign to meet with city councilors and city department heads to express concern over the decision to slash the social service budgets and the negative impact it would have on families in neighborhoods across the city.To shape the public narrative, a campaign of articles in the local paper and stories in the local TV news coverage brought the plight of the affected organizations to the public’s attention. A large public meeting, an “accountability session,” was held and there was compelling public testimony by families that would be adversely impacted by curtailing services. By the end of the meeting, city officials conceded that making small cuts across all the departments would be the better approach to addressing the budget shortfall, rather than a deep cut to the one department that provided the preschool program grants. Not only was funding restored for the childcare program at La Mesa, but other providers as well. If the La Mesa congregation had attempted to challenge the funding cut decision on its own, it likely would have been a losing effort. However, acting collectively with the community organization and other agencies, the congregation was able to influence the city’s budgetcutting strategy and preserve several quality childcare providers in under-served neighborhoods across the city. The effectiveness of this action led some city councilors to approach Albuquerque Interfaith a couple of years later when a new mayor proposed a layoff of 300 city employees to solve what 310

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he declared to be a budget deficit. Many of the jobs on the chopping block were held by members of congregations that belonged to Albuquerque Interfaith, especially one large Catholic parish.Also,AI had two city employee unions involved whose members were affected. Albuquerque Interfaith did research actions, including conversations with the city’s budget staff. It was discovered that there were monies that the mayor could have used to balance the budget, including a quarter of a cent sales tax that could have been enacted, but the mayor had other purposes in mind for those monies. Albuquerque Interfaith leaders met with city councilors and convinced them to delay acting on the mayor’s budget until there had been a public hearing with the mayor and City Council. More than 600 people from AI institutions were in attendance. Several city employees who were facing job loss told their stories, with most speaking for the very first time in a public setting. Clergy spoke about the potential harm the job cuts would have for the families and communities of the churches they served. After heated debate, the city council voted to reject the mayor’s proposal and the budget was balanced by re-allocating other budget items, thus saving the jobs. In the course of these two actions, the leaders of Albuquerque Interfaith came to understand how a city budget is a “moral statement” of what the city values and invests in. When those values stand in contradiction to the interests of a community organization and its member institutions, the FBCO has the capacity and collective power to act. Soon after that successful campaign, a major school bond election failed because of a scandal involving the previous superintendent. Albuquerque Interfaith was asked by leadership in the Albuquerque Public Schools, following the bond’s defeat, to organize a “ground game” for getting out the vote in the next election.They recognized Albuquerque Interfaith’s capacity to turn out people for public actions and they needed a grassroots effort to build support for the bond. Albuquerque Interfaith did its due diligence, by undertaking research actions, to understand the school bond package. The leaders concluded that this Capital Master Plan was one of the most equitable capital investment processes in the country. Every school campus was assessed and ranked by an outside, impartial architectural firm in every bond cycle. Based on the ranking, the bond money was allocated in a “worst to first” strategy, so projects with the greatest capital need moved to the top of the list for rehab to their buildings.This process assured that schools in all the neighborhoods of the city, from affluent to impoverished, were on a level playing field in accessing capital resources. It also took the politics out of the process, so that a powerful principal, school board member, or superintendent could not put their thumb on the scale of prioritizing projects. Albuquerque Interfaith agreed to work with the school district to increase voter participation, for what was an off-cycle election, where usually less than 8% of registered voters participated.Albuquerque Interfaith held dozens of actions throughout the city to educate constituents, including shaping the larger public conversation in stories and editorials in the paper. AI organized a series of “Get Out the Vote” walks in neighborhoods surrounding our member institutions.The walk from the La Mesa congregation had over 100 participants, including the superintendent of Albuquerque Public Schools, several school board members, the La Mesa Elementary School principal, dozens of teachers and parents, and the city councilor. In the course of five walks across several weekends, walkers had conversations with thousands of likely registered voters—sharing information, answering questions, and identifying polling places. Voter turnout jumped significantly, and the bond package passed by a 70% margin. This bond’s passage was particularly good for La Mesa Elementary School, located across the street from the La Mesa church.The school received funding for a much-needed major addition to the campus that alleviated overcrowding and eliminated several overflow portable classrooms, which were less-than-ideal learning spaces. 311

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This kind of grassroots, door-to-door, relational style of politics is not only engaging for participants and builds relationships, but is also politically effective. A great deal of social capital was created and exerted in the campaign. Individuals exercised agency by acting together and alliances were deepened between Albuquerque Interfaith, local schools, and school district leadership. The common denominator in all these actions is a process whereby people find their common self-interest together and act upon it. Community organizing holds a positive view of “relational power” as agency, understood as “the capacity to make things happen.” Sometimes people, especially from faith communities, come to organizing and find the use of the word “power” problematic, as power is perceived as corrupting and coercive. Organizing vocabulary differentiates that type of coercive power as “unilateral power.”This top-down power tends to be damaging; so, organizing is often focused on exposing unilateral power and mitigating its consequences.To counter such effects, a community organization is interested in building “relational power.”This is the power of people to act together and create the agency to make a change for the better, not by coercion, but by disciplined collective engagement. This kind of relational power is built, step by step, in what is referred to as “the organizing cycle.” It begins with “individual meetings” (sometimes called “one-on-ones”). These conversations are aimed at creating common ground and hearing others’ stories and passions. These conversations lead to “public relationships” built on common self-interests. Ernesto Cortez, famous for being the organizer of the powerful COPS organization in San Antonio, TX, and a leader in the IAF training network, believes that a community organization’s agency springs from building relational power through individual meetings. He famously says in training events, “The individual meeting is the most radical thing we do.” Individual meetings usually lead to “house meeting” campaigns, small group meetings that mix people from different institutions. People begin to identify the issues they can affect and try to break down overwhelming “problems” into actionable “issues.” Next, research actions are held with stakeholders and experts who can help the FBCO’s leaders understand the issue’s complexity and identify which individuals or entities can bring about helpful change. If a politician is a possible ally or target in the effort, an “accountability session” is often the next step. An accountability session is a large public meeting with a potential or current public office holder, to advocate for changes in policy or funding that emerge from research actions and strategic analysis of an issue. Before the accountability session, the power of the public official is analyzed, by identifying what change they can affect. Each institution makes a “turnout” pledge of how many people they commit to bring to the session.The actual turnout at the action will be compared to projected turnout after the action, as a way of internal accountability. At the accountability session, leaders of the FBCO tell stories of how their lives are being impacted by the issues on the agenda.These stories emerge from the many individual and house meetings and give people a powerful opportunity to act as “public persons.” From the research actions and the collective analysis of what leaders have learned about the issue, a series of “pin questions” are formulated for the public official/s that address the policy changes desired.The “yes or no” questions are aimed at getting commitments from the public official, essentially public promises, to support the organization’s agenda and to get an agreement for the next meeting. At the end of each accountability session, members from all the participating institutions gather to evaluate the action, grade the turnout of each institution, reflect on strengths and weaknesses of the action, decide on the next steps, and celebrate the highlights of this demonstration of collective power in public life. These accountability sessions, at their best, are lively public political dramas and help build working relationships with public officials. 312

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Accountability sessions, both for public officials and the gathered group of institutional leaders, provide an interesting learning academy and a public demonstration of how collective power is built.They provide a platform for effective analysis of the FBCO’s primary issues, help develop individual leaders to act in public life, and hold public officials and institutions accountable. This “organizing cycle” of meetings and actions teaches people skills in public life and facilitates the empowerment of the community organization’s leaders. This individual power then leads to social power (agency), by joining together with other leaders in a disciplined, multiinstitutional manner. Throughout this process, there are training events to equip people from the member institutions to learn leadership skills and see themselves as “leaders.” In truth, the professional organizer is rarely on stage at public actions but works behind the scenes to support the leaders who will moderate the action, tell their stories, analyze the issues, and hold the public officials accountable. Leadership training happens in academies resourced by the national training networks, as well as in ongoing monthly teachings at local leaders’ meetings. Most leaders’ meetings include individual meetings, so new public relationships are consistently being forged. In an essay entitled Community Organizing:An Ecological Route to Empowerment and Power, the authors Paul Speer and Joseph Hughey explore the relationship of empowerment (individual agency) and social power (collective agency).They note that the concept of action-reflection requires individuals to act as a part of an organization. Such action provides a context through which cognitive, emotional, and behavioral components of individual empowerment become manifest. Participation in a community organization provides a collective context through which emotional reaction to that power can be processed or reflected upon.8 In community organizing language, relational power or social capital is built through learning the stories, values, self-interests, and histories of others, and then acting together to engage the social concerns that affect both individual lives and communities. Community organizing embodies this action/reflection model in how it structures its organizing cycle. One of the strengths of community organizing is drawing people together, from different institutions representing the civic sector of society, to get to know each other and act collaboratively on their religious or democratic values. Many social commentators on modern life identify the weakening of “mediating structures” as a reason for much of the breakdown of community.9,10 Mediating structures are collective entities—including faith communities, schools, libraries, non-profits, unions, and voluntary associations—that act to buffer the impact of larger social realities on individuals and families.These mediating structures are becoming less influential individually and there are fewer social spaces for them to cooperate and act together. Community organizing is one strategy for re-connecting those sectors of society that can mitigate the effect of large social, political, and economic forces on individuals and communities. Ernesto Cortez addresses how this works in an essay entitled Reweaving the Social Fabric, To rebuild our society, we must rebuild our civic and political institutions.The rehabilitation of our political and civic culture requires a new politics, with authentically democratic mediating institutions—teaching, mentoring, and building an organized constituency with the power and imagination to initiate change.The work of IAF is to establish a public space in which ordinary people can learn and develop the skills of public life and create the institutions of a new democratic politics.With organized 313

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citizens and strong mediating institutions, our communities can address structural inequalities of the economy for themselves, restore health and integrity to our political process, mitigate the distortions created by organized concentrations of wealth, and, in the end, reclaim the vision and promise of American life.11 As leaders participate in organizing activities they become more deeply engaged in the democratic process, by engaging public officials and political decisions in effective advocacy, participating in a more informed way at the ballot box, and encouraging others to vote. They understand that, after an election, public officials need to be held accountable to act upon their commitments. Over time, an effective community organization, like Albuquerque Interfaith, not only builds relationships among individuals, but also among institutions.They provide an ongoing platform for people in faith communities, educational communities, and other civic institutions to work together, find common ground, articulate their religious and democratic values, and act effectively together in public life. Connections are made that enhance the vitality of all the institutions involved.There is collective power exerted when these mediating institutions join forces and mobilize their constituencies into a disciplined sustained political engagement. Relationships are also built over time with the entities that are sometimes allies and sometimes targets of organizing campaigns. One of the mantras of community organizing is that there are “no permanent enemies and no permanent allies.” There are times when an FBCO will work with institutions and politicians that they have organized against before when common ground is found on an important issue.Also, there are times a campaign is aimed at a previous ally when there is disagreement on an issue. This dynamic is illustrated by another organizing effort in Albuquerque. Because of Albuquerque Interfaith’s effectiveness in helping pass the previous bond package, the school district approached AI to organize “Get Out the Vote” walks in every subsequent bond cycle. AI’s interest in the bond issue had deepened over time because several charter public schools had joined Albuquerque Interfaith. The equitable capital master planning process that had been so effective in rebuilding traditional public schools also made it possible for charter public schools to build their school facilities, instead of renting expensive commercial spaces. About a decade ago a new superintendent, coming from out of state and unfamiliar with this history of collaboration, was somewhat skeptical of Albuquerque Interfaith’s involvement in the bond issue. However, when he saw AI’s success in turning out likely voters, so that the first bond package of his superintendency passed by another large margin, he became enthusiastic about AI’s role. However, the superintendent had a vested interest in seeing a couple of new projects get built early in his tenure at the district—a football stadium and a teacher training center. After the election, he pushed these two projects to the top of the list, ahead of the school repair and renovation projects that were important to Albuquerque Interfaith institutions. The district’s capital master planner, who had guided the school construction process for years and worked with AI in facilitating previous bond walks, was troubled by this re-ordering of priorities. It meant classrooms needing upgrading would be delayed, as the superintendent’s two pet priority projects required a significant investment. The planner was unable to change the superintendent’s mind. Because of AI’s ongoing work in bond elections and the trust that had built over time, the master planner informed Albuquerque Interfaith leaders of the superintendent’s changed priorities, knowing that AI was committed to the long-standing equitable philosophy that prioritized aging classrooms being renovated first. 314

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Research actions were done and care was taken not to expose the planner who was the informant.AI leaders met with the superintendent, but he remained insistent upon his priorities. Albuquerque Interfaith leaders argued that this action contradicted the “worst to first” prioritization and the superintendent was politicizing the process by imposing his priorities. When the superintendent refused to reconsider, AI met with other stakeholders, including school board members, the local teacher’s union, and other allies. Through a media campaign, this became quite a public fight. The superintendent was unhappy with this push-back, as the controversy was hurting his public image, so he offered a compromise of significantly scaling back the stadium cost and delaying the timetable for its completion. He also tabled the teacher training center for several years, a decision endorsed by the teacher’s union. By achieving this compromise, Albuquerque Interfaith was able to get the “worst to first” funding back on track and the schools AI had publicly walked to renovate were back in the queue.AI did not get everything it sought in the compromise, but crafted a victory that all parties could live with. Organizing recognizes that effective social change involves disciplined action, negotiation, and navigating strategic compromises with entrenched, resistant governmental structures.A victory is usually an incremental step toward a larger agenda. Institutional reform takes time, persistence, and judgment. Reflective of the commitment of not having “permanent enemies or allies,” Albuquerque Interfaith stood with the superintendent the following year, as one of the few organizations that publicly supported him when the governor threatened budget cuts to the district. The governor had an agenda of privatizing public education and, as the largest school district in the state, Albuquerque was a favorite target.The governor also threatened to seek legislation to break up the school district, which the superintendent adamantly opposed. Albuquerque Interfaith had successfully fought earlier attempts to divide the district.AI leaders met with the superintendent to craft a coordinated strategy to block the governor’s agenda. Albuquerque Interfaith advocated vigorously, as an ally of the district, at the state legislative session and the governor’s legislation was effectively thwarted.As a case study of “no permanent enemies, no permanent allies,” the superintendent recognized AI’s power and came to respect it, even when we disagreed. He understood Albuquerque Interfaith was an ally for the long haul, but not to be taken for granted. As urban clergy, the authors believe that public education is the most just and equitable way to ensure that all children have access to quality learning, and education organizing work reflects the values of most faith traditions. For La Mesa Presbyterian Church, located next door to a grade school, and committed to the well-being of the children and families in the neighborhood, this translates into a commitment that public schools receive adequate financial resources and utilize effective pedagogy to equip children in reaching their fullest potential and learning the critical skills to be engaged citizens in our democracy. Another arena where FBCO work has had an impact in cities has been in addressing affordable housing.The lack of affordable housing is a national crisis and many FBCOs are addressing this crisis in their cities. Phil Tom, in his capacity as the Director of the Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnership Center of the US Labor Department, observed FBCOs working at local and national levels to get just housing policies enacted. Both authors, while working at the national office of the Presbyterian Church, targeted grants to FBCOs working on affordable housing, especially for campaigns in many cities to create Housing Trust Funds, as funding pools for affordable housing.A number of those FBCOs were successful in campaigns to create Housing Trust Funds at the state level. FBCOS were also effective in changing city housing 315

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codes to require percentages of new housing projects to be set aside as “affordable” for lowerincome tenants. One group, affiliated with the Industrial Areas Foundation, is the Washington Interfaith Network (WIN). One of WIN’s major priorities was to get the City of Washington, DC to increase the number of affordable housing units in the DC Metro area.WIN proposed legislation to the city government that placed requirements for developers to include 20% of affordable housing units with their market-rate development. WIN also lobbied to increased city funding of affordable housing. As WIN worked at the local level, IAF nationally was also organizing to get the US Housing and Urban Development Office (HUD) to increase its funding at the national level, to reverse two decades of significant federal budget cuts for affordable and public housing. It was clear that local funding would not be enough to meet the demands for the growing number of affordable housing units needed for the city.WIN and its IAF affiliates knew they had to organize, at both the local and national level, if they were going to succeed in securing additional funding to create new affordable housing in the communities they served. During the past decade, like IAF, several of the other FBCO training networks expanded their work to embrace a national organizing strategy, alongside their local efforts, to affect issues like immigrant justice. Faith in Action (formally known as PICO) and Gamaliel (with whom Barack Obama had organized) expanded their work on immigration reform at both the state and national levels. Faith in Action organized in New York and New Jersey to approve driver’s licenses and state-approved identification cards for undocumented immigrants, so they can receive banking services and other public services. Faith in Action continued to mobilize their state affiliates to lobby their representatives in Washington to pass legislation impacting immigrants, both documented and undocumented. The White House’s Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnership Center (where Phil Tom worked as Director) reached out to IAF, Faith in Action, Gamaliel, and National People’s Action for their input and support for national legislation aimed at comprehensive immigration reform, including Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA). The FBCO organizing networks, working in partnership with other immigrant rights advocacy groups, played a significant role in getting the Obama administration to issue an Executive Branch Memo to implement the DACA policy. In the author’s work with the US Labor Department on workers’ rights, leaders from Gamaliel, Faith in Action, and Interfaith Worker Justice, and other FBCOs met with the Labor Secretary and other top labor officials to address workplace issues.These included increasing the minimum wage, pay stub protections, rights of workers not protected by Federal Labor Standard Act, tip wage law, and other issues impacting low-wage workers. The capacity of the FBCOs to mobilize their member institutions and congregations across the country to respond quickly on a national policy issue is powerful and can have a significant impact on passing reforming legislation. All in all, both authors believe that communities of faith that learn the skills and tactics of community organizing function as powerful agents for change in their community. As part of a broad-based community organizations, congregations can help shape public policy and economic investments at the city, county, state, and national levels. The habits and practices of community organizing, all aimed at building a deep relational culture, also have great benefit inside the life of a local parish. These help a congregation in deepening relationships both within and outside of their faith community, training and empowering individuals in leadership, and opening the door of the church to the diversity of the community around them. 316

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Cities are complex ecologies that impact the well-being of all the entities within them, including churches, synagogues, mosques, and temples. However, the flow of energy goes both ways. Congregations can act with agency, by building the requisite relational power collectively, predicated on religious and democratic values, to shape their urban environment. Community organizing never settles for “the world as it is” but strives for “the world as it should be.” This overarching vision of community organizing aligns with our faith tradition’s commitment to God’s justice.That is more than enough to keep us as clergy, and our faith communities, doing our “one-on-one” conversations and house meetings, as antidotes to the decline of social capital, and to create enough agency to make our communities more just and equitable. The welfare of our cities is better for that!

Notes 1 The authors are both Presbyterian clergy and community organizing leaders in the US. They have served a variety of urban congregations and worked with many local community organizing efforts. They were also on the national church staff of the Presbyterian Church (USA), directing the Urban Ministry Office, and overseeing the denomination’s support of community organizing nationally. In addition, Phil Tom worked as the Director of the Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnership Office of the US Department of Labor during the Obama administration. 2 Stanley D. Horwitt, Let Them Call Me Rebel: Saul Alinsky, His Life and Legacy (New York: Vintage Books, 1992), p. 94. 3 Ibid., p. 75. 4 Mark R.Warren and Richard Wood, Faith-Based Organizing: The State of the Field (Jericho, NY: Interfaith Funders, 2010), p. 10. 5 Ibid., p. 14. 6 Katie Day, Ester McIntosh, and William Storrar, eds, Yours The Power: Faith Based Community Organizing (Brill, 2013), pp. 25–26. 7 Mark R. Warren and Richard Wood, Faith-Based Community Organizing in Action: Five Stories of Community Change (Jericho, NY: Interfaith Funders, 2001), pp. 22–23. 8 Paul W. Speer and Joseph Hughey, Community Organizing: An Ecological Route to Empowerment and Power. American Journal of Community Psychology,Vol. 23, No. 5 (1995), pp. 773–74 9 Robert D. Putnam, Bowling Alone: America’s Declining Social Capital. Journal of Democracy, Vol. 6 (1995), pp. 64–78. 10 Peter L. Berger and Richard J. Neuhaus, To Empower the People: From State to Civil Society (Washington, DC:AEI Press, 1997). 11 Ernesto Cortez, Reweaving the Social Fabric (Boston Review, The New War of Poverty, June/ September 1994).

Bibliography Alinsky, Saul D. Reveille for Radicals (New York:Vintage Books, 1989). ———. Rules for Radicals (New York:Vintage Books, 1971). Chambers, Edward T. Roots for Radicals: Organizing for Power,Action, and Justice (New York: Continuum Press, 2004). Day, Katie, Ester McIntosh, and William Storrar, eds, Yours the Power: Faith Based Community Organizing (Leiden: Brill, 2013). Gecan, Mike. Going Public (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2002). Horwitt, Stanley D. Let Them Call Me Rebel: Saul Alinsky, His Life and Legacy (New York: Vintage Books, 1992). Jacobsen, Dennis A. Doing Justice: Congregations and Community Organizing (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2001). Miller, Mike. A Community Organizer’s Tale (Berkeley, CA: Heyday Books, 2009). Scott, Jeffrey. Blessed Are the Organized (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2010). Todd, George E. Exposure and Risk:A Half Century of Urban Ministry (Scotts Valley, CA: Create Space, 2016).

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Trey Hammond and Phil Tom Warren, Mark R. and Richard Wood. Faith-Based Community Organizing in Action: Five Stories of Community Change (Jericho, NY: Interfaith Funders, 2001). Warren, Mark R. and Richard Wood. Faith-Based Organizing:The State of the Field (Jericho, NY: Interfaith Funders, 2001). Wood, Richard L. Faith in Action: Religion, Race, and Democratic Organizing in America (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 2002).

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22 DISCOURSE OF FAITH AND POWER Turnaround Tuesday, a case study in Baltimore Isabella Cronin Favazza

Turnaround Tuesday (TAT) utilizes spirituality as a cultural catalyst that enables the community to organize around the lack of employment opportunities within Baltimore City. Officially beginning in 2014 as a jobs movement with Baltimoreans Unite In Leadership Development (BUILD), TAT works “to prepare ‘returning’ citizens and unemployed citizens to reenter the workforce and to lead in creating job opportunities in Baltimore.”1 Returning citizen is the term TAT uses to describe formerly incarcerated people. It distances the person from the mistake they made, unlike terms such as “ex-felon” or “ex-offender,” and instead focuses on the individual coming home and choosing to better their life and their community. From winter 2014 to spring 2020,TAT helped over 860 people find gainful employment where they would make at least $15 an hour, and maintained an 83% retention rate.2 TAT accomplishes its goal through community organizing and relationships with some of Baltimore’s prevailing institutions, such as Johns Hopkins Hospital.The program provides equal employment to areas of the city that have historically been blocked or deterred from job opportunities. Taking place in two churches, TAT functions Monday through Friday, providing a variety of resources and training to help participants become employed. However, its Tuesday sessions are the backbone of the whole operation with a strong focus on spirituality. Before receiving any type of aid, a person must attend TAT’s Tuesday session a minimum of four times. At these sessions,TAT staff ground employment training around spiritual motivation. Opening in prayer, each session pinpoints a specific job-readiness skill and helps participants to understand it through different spiritual examples, skits, models from the real world, and practice, followed by announcements about upcoming events and a closing prayer. Even during the parts of the session that are solely focused on job readiness, religious rhetoric is used as a reason to keep fighting for a job, such as:“I know God has a plan for me,” or “If you put your faith in God, everything will turn out just fine.” During its Tuesday sessions participants receive an orientation, learning that TAT is a jobs movement, not a jobs program.TAT is a movement because its ultimate focus is changing lives by changing Baltimore City’s culture of economic disparity; it does not simply find jobs for people, but careers that will actually allow them to become upwardly mobile. During years of de jure and de facto segregation that led to food deserts and few options for employment within city limits, Baltimore’s black community habitually found solace within the walls of the church. However, since 2016, more than 25% of US citizens have identified 319

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themselves as unaffiliated with any religious institution, up from 14% at the end of the 1990s.3 This paper explores the changing role of religion and faith within the black community of Baltimore City, asking how peoples’ views of the church have changed and the ways in which community engagement, provided by TAT confronting Baltimore’s unemployment rate, challenges new perspectives on religion and religious institutions.The purpose of this research is not to examine the validity of faith, but rather to examine its role within the community.Through analysis of TAT’s history, practices, and documents, as well as interviews with its participants and staff, I address these questions: by their use of religious and spiritual language, does TAT replicate the historical pattern of Baltimore churches to provide social services as part of their mission of community engagement? And, how do participants of TAT perceive the role of faith within community organizing? In total, 15 interviews were conducted for this project, including 10 participants, 4 TAT staff members, and 1 TAT alumnus. Each set of people was interviewed about different topics. For the TAT participants, the questions focused on their religious beliefs, as well as their feelings regarding the spiritual traits of TAT.When interviewing the staff, the questions focused on what each person brought into the movement, why they thought it was necessary, and how they perceived TAT participants’ reactions to the spiritual components of TAT.The one alumnus interviewed was asked to describe his experience with TAT, both as someone who has utilized its services and contributed time to the movement as a volunteer. Half of the TAT participants interviewed were men, the other half were women, and in total their ages spanned from 29 to 69. Due to Baltimore City having a majority black population, it was also decided the case study would be more conclusive if all TAT participants interviewed came from this population.All interviewees were given explanations of the purpose of the study and the content of the consent form and all interviewees signed it prior to being interviewed.All names have been anonymized in references below, apart from the TAT leaders, as they are public representatives of TAT. The following section provides an analysis of some of Baltimore City’s current unemployment statistics, as well as religious beliefs within the United States, in order to understand the ways in which TAT is approaching its mission statement of helping returning citizens find gainful employment through a spiritually ambiguous identity. In the next section, “TAT’s community organizing origins,” the structure of TAT’s parent organization BUILD will be addressed, along with the history of similar organizations, with the purpose of understanding the extent TAT mimics Baltimore’s churches in attacking structural violence.The succeeding section, “Insights from interviews and participants’ living environments,” evaluates the interview responses and how TAT’s participants have come to understand the use of faith within community organizing. And finally, in the conclusion, the shortcomings of the research, along with next steps, will be considered.

Employment and related challenges in Baltimore City TAT is essential to Baltimore because it is trying to improve the employment rate of the city, where 23% of the population is living in poverty.4 This statistic is more than double the overall rate at which people in Maryland experience poverty and is higher than the percentage of the US general population living in poverty. Moreover, Baltimore City has consistently had higher rates of poverty than Maryland and the United Sates since 1988.5 And, unless change is enacted quickly, Baltimore’s children will face similar problems in the future. Using data provided by the United States Census Bureau, professors of Economics from Harvard and Brown University created a map of the US that measures the likelihood of social mobility.These predictions were created using data from 20,000,000 American citizens, accumulated from the time they were 320

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children to adults in their mid-30s.Their research finds that, because of the current unemployment and poverty rates of Baltimore City, compared to children in nearby locations, children within the city limits are 6% more likely to be incarcerated as adults, to have an annual income of less than $10,000, and face an employment rate of 64%.6 By aiding Baltimore’s adults to find jobs now,TAT’s efforts could induce a ripple effect, potentially offering Baltimore City’s youth a brighter future. Building upon previous community activism led by congregation-based community organizations,TAT employs spirituality as a method by which to support its participants and motivate them to keep looking for work. Baltimore City’s tradition of generational poverty within the black community is long-standing and directly connected to housing. In 1911, Baltimore’s City Council passed the nation’s first racially restrictive zoning law, which prohibited members of one racial group from buying a house in a city block already occupied by another race. But the city’s housing segregation was exacerbated in 1917 when the Supreme Court struck down racial zoning.7 Rather than being an occasion marked by a celebration of human rights, this moment signified a transition from de facto segregation to de jure segregation.8 The Real Estate Board of Baltimore, the City Building Inspector, and the Health Department enforced racial separation by creating discriminatory guidelines surrounding the rental and sale of property to black people.These parameters fell into two categories: clearance, and containment. As Garrett Power, a professor emeritus of law at the University of Maryland asserts, “clearance was used to remove Negro slums from areas where they were not wanted; containment was used to prevent the spread of black residential districts.”9 These systems of segregation continued unofficially until 1922, when the National Housing Association of Real Estate Brokers (NAREB) published formal rules in the text entitled, Principles of Real Estate Practice. This textbook was used by all realtors, and it “emphasized that ‘the purchase of property by certain racial types is very likely to diminish the value of other property.’ It was deemed unethical to sell to blacks property that was located in white neighborhoods.”10 Simply put, redlining was used to boost the economy after the Great Depression; by decreasing certain neighborhoods’ property values, property values located elsewhere would increase. Neighborhoods where value decreased were primarily populated by people of color. Additionally, the decrease in property value made it nearly impossible for residents of these regions to purchase property, as banks would refuse to invest in declining areas.11 Because Baltimore’s black residents were forced to live in areas where the only housing available was rentable property in buildings of which value had been deducted exorbitantly, taxes typically brought in from mortgage payments were next to nothing in these residents’ regions, which negatively impacted the infrastructure in these regions (i.e., provided little or no funds for public schools). Additionally, businesses wanting to open in areas with more minority residents could not acquire loans, limiting the options for business owners to purchase storefronts, and creating food deserts and narrow employment options in these regions.12 Homer Hoyt from the Federal Housing Association justified the redlining system saying,“If the entrance of a colored family into a white neighborhood causes a general exodus of white people, such dislikes are reflected in property values.”13 Hoyt’s explanation supplied a thin veil by which real estate brokers and health inspectors could conceal their racist practices, passing it off as the norm. By rationalizing racism through economic rhetoric, segregation kept black Baltimoreans living in disadvantaged areas of the city for decades. Families who could afford to leave redlined areas did, which resulted in blockbusting. Blockbusting was a process that began by spreading mass hysteria. Realtors would talk about how dangerously close minority neighborhoods were to white neighborhoods to a point where the white residents would undersell their homes in order to move to allegedly safer environments—the suburbs—as quickly as possible. At this stage, realtors then scooped up the houses 321

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being undersold at bargain prices and resold them to families of color at a ridiculously high mark-up rate.14 After a certain percentage of the white residents left and people of color occupied most of the neighborhood, the block would then be busted.The final step of blockbusting is repeating redlining: the neighborhood’s value would decrease to reflect the property hazards of the people living in it.15 Through blockbusting, the message became clear: regardless of where people of color lived, they were neither welcome nor cared for by Baltimore City. The number of white people trying to flee diversified living situations in the city, wherein they might encounter people of color, primarily black people, ultimately led to suburbanization and white flight. By 1950, though NAREB updated its textbook, it still maintained that “the realtor should not be instrumental in introducing into a neighborhood a character of property or occupancy, members of any race or nationality or any individual whose presence will clearly be detrimental to property values in the neighborhood.”16 With the desegregation of schools due to Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka (1954), as well as the Federal Aid Highway Act, which allowed for the construction of 41,000 miles of interstate highway, it was only a matter of time until Baltimore City became known as a black city and Baltimore County as its white counterpart.17 White flight was only made that much easier when the interstate was created because white people could now live outside of the city and commute to their jobs.Additionally, the idea of white children attending school with people of color encouraged white parents to find “safer” living arrangements than those in Baltimore City.Today, Baltimore County is predominantly white, and Baltimore is still known as a black city, wherein there are food desserts, underfunded schools, and a high crime rate.18 Historically Baltimore’s churches have confronted structural inequities, yet from the start of the twenty-first century, the rate at which US citizens have ceased identifying with religious institutions has increased noticeably.Today, Americans who do not identify with a formal religion officially make up the largest “religious group” in the United States.19 Race, income, age, and education level factor into the rate at which different communities are disaffiliating. For instance, areas with a high population of minorities and/or people of a lower socio-economic status are separating from religious institutions less often than white, affluent neighborhoods.20 However, of the people who are religiously affiliated, one fourth do not belong to a religious institution; “these trends are not just numbers, but play in the reality that thousands of U.S. churches are closing every year.”21 Furthermore, two thirds of Americans, both religiously affiliated and not, believe that religion is losing its influence on society.And while some argue this is for the best and that religion is an outdated system, close to 50% of US citizens regret this trend.22 Although religious institutions may not be as popular as they once were, people still value the role religion plays in teaching life lessons and building community; 58% of Americans say that religion is important to their lives and 76% pray daily.23 Even among unaffiliated Americans, one-third thinks it is necessary to believe in God to develop morals and have good values.24 TAT approaches its mission statement of helping returning citizens find gainful employment through a spiritually ambiguous identity. In the following section, theories about community organizing and social capital will be discussed in order to explain the organizing model of TAT and identify how it has separated itself from its congregation-based parent organization BUILD.

TAT’s community organizing origins Community organizing can be defined as collaboration around investigating and addressing social issues of mutual concern by a collective.25 BUILD is an associate of the Industrial Areas Foundation (IAF) and has utilized its organizing model to address economic disparity within Baltimore’s black community.TAT was initially founded through BUILD congregations dedi322

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cated to nurturing social capital with the aim of liveability in Baltimore City. IAF’s model of community organizing was founded on the principle of social capital, which is power created by social networks. Social capital is “developing networks of relationships that weave individuals into groups and communities.”26 Social capital has two types: binding and bridging. While all social capital can be understood as a local phenomenon based on connections among people, binding social capital is about forming individual relationships between people who share similar interests, whereas bridging social capital aims to unite groups of people from different areas of interest.27 TAT garners interest in community organizing around improving Baltimore’s employment rate by empowering people through spiritual motivation.TAT uses religious rhetoric, prayer, and “spiritual vitamins” to bind social capital within the black community and bridge social capital with other institutions (i.e., Johns Hopkins Hospital), in order to find employment opportunities for its participants. Spiritual vitamins are quotes that TAT staff take from religious texts to illustrate the job teaching of that day.While typically the spiritual vitamin comes from the Bible, occasionally they will pull from other sources as they are committed to TAT being a spiritually ambiguous movement. BUILD began in 1977 with focused efforts to attack Baltimore City’s racial and class disparities as “a broad-based, non-partisan, interfaith, multiracial community power organization rooted in Baltimore’s neighborhoods and congregations.” BUILD’s mission is to make Baltimore a prosperous place to live with ample opportunity for all.28 At its core, BUILD achieves its mission by following IAF’s model of congregation-based relational organizing, which has four major steps: dues, fundraising, recruitment, and leadership development.29 The congregations pay dues so that the organization has money for potential projects. BUILD also raises funds for specific issues, while recruiting people to carry out civic actions and training each of its members to be leaders to create a system of shared community power. Cheryl Finney, who has been involved with BUILD since 2012 and is the senior program manager of TAT, says, “the idea behind organizing congregations is that people are already driven to a place with a purpose and a structure.”30 When BUILD was first created, it was supported by ten churches and its focus was on issues such as the eradication of rats and better police protection. But as BUILD has grown its attention has been drawn to broader concerns such as gun violence, funding for school programs, and college tuition.31 The organization “is now one of the three or four most effective power groups in the nation.”32 Today, members of BUILD include 23 congregations, 9 neighborhood and civic associations, and 12 schools and educational services.33 However, with more people becoming disaffiliated from religious institutions, some of BUILD’s veterans worry about what this might mean for the organization’s future. Vernon Dobson from Union Baptist Church, one of the first ten institutions to be included in BUILD, fears that “the clergy are mobilized to attack power inequities in society at large, but they’re not prepared to give up any of the power that they wield inside their own churches.”34 Dobson argues that churches are willing to fight against structural violence but are uninclined to do so in a way that does not follow a top-down approach, and thus nurtures a culture wherein the clergy can disengage from the people it is claiming to help. Fellow BUILD organizer Dr. Douglas Miles recently echoed this concern at the 2019 Religion and Cities Conference, saying the black church has become an institution too interested in religious service as opposed to relationships. Miles believes relational organizing is the only way to bring the church back to what it used to be: a community. He says, “The black church cannot be changed from the inside; it must be changed from the outside … That’s why community organizing is important, it makes the church relational.”35 TAT is unique in that its spiritual identity was formed to accommodate people who were disengaged from religious institutions, while at the same time 323

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connecting those institutions to a broader understanding of faith by focusing more attention on the community. In fact, TAT started by bringing people from the street outside Zion Baptist, a BUILD church, inside to address unequal access to employment. In autumn 2014, one of BUILD’s organizers,Terrell Williams, met with the church’s pastor, Marshall Prentice, to discuss BUILD’s project of constructing affordable houses in the neighborhood. Prentice was looking out the window at all the people standing on the street corners and did not understand why they were not at work.Williams, who is now one of TAT’s co-directors, recounts: He looked out the window and he said, You know, it’s so unfortunate that those young men out there will not get the benefit of these houses that we’re building … I just don’t understand why they choose to sell drugs or do whatever it is that they’re doing—putting their lives in jeopardy and everything that they worked for—it disappears … He was like,‘you really don’t know, and I really don’t know… why don’t we go ask them?’And so we got a clipboard and we went out there and we just started talking to people, just started listening to people, and we just kept hearing these stories… [with a] central theme of people really trying to turn their life around, but employers just not giving them an opportunity.36 Williams and Prentice asked if people would be interested in meeting the following Tuesday morning to talk more.When the time came, they opened the church’s doors and invited people into its basement; the purpose of the meeting was to understand why each of these people could not find a job.The same story kept emerging—a person had made a mistake earlier in their life, served time in jail, and then no one would hire them after they were released from incarceration. The group decided it would meet every Tuesday morning to try and figure out how to increase hiring in Baltimore, specifically hiring returning citizens. And while TAT struggled at first to gain institutional backing, both in forming partnerships and funding,TAT gradually found the support it needed to become the dynamic, faith-based jobs movement it is today.

Insights from interviews and participants’ living environments While it is obvious that people come to TAT to find employment, what is not as apparent is just how inaccessible employment is in the neighborhoods from which the participants come. Located in a previously redlined area, TAT’s neighborhood experiences poverty at the rate of 24.2%.37 Although statistics from the Baltimore Neighborhood Indicators Alliance of the Jacob France Institute specify that the unemployment rate in this region is only 23.1%, this information is misleading. Of the residents between the ages 16 and 64, 38.2% of people are not included in the labor force.38 In economics, the term “discouraged worker” is used to describe people who are unemployed, but who have not actively looked for work in four weeks; people identified as discouraged workers are not included in the labor force or the rate of unemployment.39 Moreover, within this same neighborhood, 42.4% of households do not have access to Wi-Fi, an increasing necessity in the digital world of online job applications, making it difficult to apply for jobs often. Especially in the wake of COVID-19, a global pandemic that has forced countless of people to work from home, having Wi-Fi at home has become a necessity to stay employed. Thus, the rate of unemployment is skewed because people who are not actively looking for work, whether by circumstance or choice, are classified as discouraged workers and therefore removed from the labor force and the unemployment rate.40 Understanding these 324

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living situations of TAT participants is necessary in order to interpret the spirituality of the participants and how they perceive TAT’s use of faith. Additionally, TAT staff primarily conduct outreach through word of mouth on the streets and in BUILD congregations, meaning that, although the movement aims to be spiritually ambiguous, it tends to attract people who already have faith or a connection to a religious institution.And while it is common for areas with high rates of poverty to be more religious, as religious institutions provide needed material goods and amenities to disenfranchised populations, it would be reckless to assume that every person from a low-income neighborhood in Baltimore is religious.41 Although TAT does not exclude unemployed people who do not ascribe to a faith, as seen through its spiritually ambiguous identity, it could be doing more to advertise its services in locations that are not spiritually inclined, such as libraries. As disclosed by an Enoch Pratt library branch manager, many people who go to libraries during the weekday are unemployed and use the internet to search for jobs. Due to TAT’s outreach practices, the TAT participants interviewed for this project were more religious than what US trends would suggest.42 However, as previously stated, although religious disaffiliation is occurring nationally, the rate at which certain areas and communities are disaffiliating is dependent on different demographics, race and socio-economic status included. Because the majority of the city’s residents are minorities, and approximately one quarter of the population is living below the poverty line, these demographics reflect the possibility that Baltimore City is becoming religiously disaffiliated at a slower rate than the nation at large. Interviews revealed that most TAT participants preferred TAT to other job service organizations available because of the spiritual component, as shown by their comments: A lot of programs aren’t structured around religious or a spiritual movement … [At TAT] it’s like you’re part of something versus someone just shoving a booklet of paperwork in front of you. I don’t think you can get a stronger guidance than drawing from religious focus to teach people. It’s a safe haven. I do hope that I get a job through this movement, but if I don’t it wouldn’t be time wasted because I look forward to every Tuesday. In fact, the faith-based traits and the church location made people want to attend even more; participants said they loved the spiritual aspect because it made them feel like they were a part of something bigger than themselves.Three people said these characteristics had no impact, but not one of the ten participants said that they did not want to attend because of TAT’s spiritual identity.These findings may have been amplified because the interviews took place on Resource Day. Resource Day takes place every Wednesday at both locations of TAT and it is during this time that TAT participants can receive aid on job applications, interview prep, and sometimes even job certification training. Because all of TAT’s participants can only attend Resource Day after having attended TAT’s Tuesday session a minimum of four times, if a person did become disinterested from the movement due to its spirituality they would not have been interviewed, as it is likely that they would have stopped attending TAT’s Tuesday sessions. After interviewing TAT participants about their own faith, it became clear that, while religious institutions can be used to foster a relationship with God, the participants primarily understand religious institutions to be a place for community and spirituality to be of personal concern.All interviewed participants identified themselves as religious, spiritual, or faithful, with four people saying they were all three. Rather than providing definitions, participants were asked what they did to express their faith. Of the eight participants who regularly attend a religious 325

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institution, seven attending church and one attending a mosque, seven identified themselves as religious. The one person who attends church but did not say she was religious instead opted for the terms spiritual and faithful, she explained,“My spirituality is a personal thing for me, I go inward and look for God.” For the remaining two participants who do not attend a religious institution, one described himself as faithful and the other described herself as spiritual. Both also engage in prayer and said that their relationship with God was personal. Additionally, though most people mentioned God in their interviews, the people who attended a religious institution were more likely to talk about the community, saying things like “I do want to make a difference in my community and my city,” or “I have become … a very strong person in my religious community.” While it seems as though the people who defined themselves as religious are more community-oriented than those who described themselves as faithful, this pattern could also be attributed to TAT’s job training about personal and private relationships. In this training,TAT staff explain how certain relationships are more public than others, the idea being that there are certain people who one should always act professional around; in this training, relationships with people from church are viewed as public and faith is classified as private. Consistent with this, individual examples of what the terms religious, spiritual, and faithful mean to TAT participants suggest that religious beliefs are personal, having an independent relationship with God; and, on a different level, religious institutions are viewed more as a means by which to create community, with spirituality factoring in less. When asked if there was a specific turning point in their lives that made TAT participants want to become more religious, three people said they experienced a religious encounter prior to coming to TAT. One woman explained how she was sitting alone and suddenly felt a presence, saying,“God was speaking to me … I felt that spiritual divine moment.”Another woman talked about how her last job made her feel like she was dying and said she was saved on her job after seeing a manifestation and found comfort in how “there is no death in God.”The third person who experienced an encounter described how he heard God’s voice when he was sick as a child:“And since that day, [he has] never questioned if there was a God or not.”The remaining participants found faith after the death of a loved one, inspiration from a religious leader, or purely wanting a better life for themselves and their family. Religious institutions provided these people with a support system, as well as a space where they could reflect on their mistakes without judgment. The alumnus interviewed, Benjamin,43 who has been with TAT since its second week, believes that the feeling TAT participants have that they are a part of something greater is what drives them to want to be greater. He says TAT “makes you rediscover that there is a higher power, regardless of what you call a higher power.They might call the innate program a higher power. They might call their job a higher power.” Regardless of whether a TAT participant is religious, the spiritual identity of the movement has an innate way of cultivating trust and community; without this support system, Benjamin thinks more people might be susceptible to recidivism. Reflecting on his own experience, Benjamin believes “God helped me … if I had to do it on my own, I wouldn’t have made it.”TAT is successful because it can simulate certain aspects of a religious institution, in that it provides a space that fosters community development. At the same time, because it is more spiritually ambiguous than a religious institution, it requires that people look inward to their own beliefs about what a higher power is and, in so doing, the participants become empowered by themselves. TAT’s staff understand that people want to have a spiritual space where community building is the focus, as opposed to scripture and religious practice.TAT has created this type of environment by holding weekly job-readiness trainings inside a church, mimicking the routine gathering of religious institutions, and using religious rhetoric while also challenging the traditional 326

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roles and discussions people have in this space.TAT opens in prayer, but as Co-Director Melvin Wilson explains, “Our prayers are generic. They are not meant to force religion on anybody, but we are in a church and we are going to pray.We are a spiritual movement and we are not ashamed of that.”44 Even though the movement’s mission is to prepare returning citizens to re-enter the workforce, the spirituality of the space, as well as the spiritual vitamins, prayer, and presence of a pastor impact how people approach this mission. Finney says that this influence is necessary in order to open participants up to learning new skills; saying, “I think spiritual centering gives a person a chance to develop trust and feel safe and feel worthy, and that's sort of the prerequisite for learning some new behavior and being ready for work.”45 From Finney’s perspective,TAT needs to have spirituality involved to address the emotional needs of its participants, many of whom need a safe space wherein they can confront their trauma, heal, and work toward a brighter future. Williams affirms Finney’s thoughts, understanding that the community needs a space for growth but that traditional religious institutions can no longer provide this: While the people around the church are not connected to it now, and we're seeing that across the city, we're hoping that [TAT] can feel something like church, but not church because not everybody is religious. It has to be a place where everybody, every religious perspective feels comfortable.46 Keeping the structure of church intact,TAT replaces conventional religious ideologies with jobreadiness skills, thus allowing for the development of a more inclusive community. Religious institutions are not losing their value; rather, the focus is being drawn toward the community built around them and adapting these institutions to become more inviting to outside perspectives. Because TAT utilizes a spiritually ambiguous identity, its participants strive to understand their own higher purpose outside of what some might call God’s plan, thus allowing them to focus more on what they can do to improve their lives and how they can become community leaders.

Conclusion TAT adapted models of social capital created in congregations to draw in more participants to be trained as employees and leaders, effectively bettering the lives of the individuals and the community.The movement is distinct because it is a fusion of the secular and the sacred, resting on the middle ground that many disaffiliated Americans are looking for.While TAT is able to garner interest in the community it is currently located in, it is probable that its hybridity will be of interest in other areas, especially given that half of the US population regrets how religious institutions are losing their influence.This pattern of religious recession, followed by nostalgia of what religious institutions used to represent, would suggest that religious institutions either need to change to better meet the needs of the people, or the people need to find new institutions altogether.47 Because TAT can address secular issues using a spiritually ambiguous lens, its jobtraining skills are both useful and transformative to the individual and the city. TAT replicates the people-focused religious institutions of the past by introducing individuals to leadership development and the ways in which they can rise above oppression, while modifying the parts of religious institutions that no longer serve the best interests of the public. TAT is productive in working toward its mission for two reasons.TAT has the ability to make a person feel respected on the individual level and on a community level. Interviewed TAT participants felt that spirituality was personal and religious institutions were public, and they were drawn to TAT because it reflects both. In addition, TAT’s participants are encouraged to 327

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believe in a higher power, and in this they learn the value of their presence in the community, a necessary reminder for returning citizens who have been removed from their community for a long time. Looking inward to define what this higher power is,TAT’s participants discover how to trust themselves again, becoming confident and thus engaging as community members more. In essence,TAT demonstrates the importance of understanding an individual’s needs within the context of their community. A more intentional recruitment process might be one avenue for TAT to expand its accommodating perimeter. This could allow TAT to become even more spiritually ambiguous and thus even more adaptable to its participants. Currently, TAT attracts people who are affiliated with religious institutions, typically churches, or already believe in God as a higher power. If TAT wants to appeal to a broader audience, it might need to disengage from religious institutions further, specifically the church. While the movement claims a spiritually ambiguous identity, it could do more to include non-Christian faiths in its Tuesday sessions.Taking place in two churches with pastors present and primarily drawing on the Bible for the spiritual vitamins, TAT could easily be mistaken for a Christian movement, possibly even congregation-based. If TAT can become more spiritually ambiguous, as well as do outreach in non-religious spaces, it might increase its participants and perhaps effect change in Baltimore City’s economy faster.The ability to connect with more diverse religious institutions is established through creating social capital, as TAT will be unable to encourage other types of religious institutions to be involved with the movement without first beginning relationships with these institutions. TAT’s work is fundamentally grounded in social capital, so it has the skills to form these relationships and become a more inviting faith-based organization. Future research that builds on this project might focus on the relationship between unemployment and spirituality, specifically documenting the ways in which religious institutions are changing.TAT and similar movements could utilize this research to attract more social capital and contest structural inequities. Unless TAT begins recruiting participants in public spaces, it will not be possible to study whether unemployment rates influence individuals toward wanting a more spiritual or religious lifestyle. Studies following up on the impact of TAT over a longer time period would provide data about TAT alumni’s employment rates, their appeal to nonreligious participants, and the impact of faith-based employment programs. Moreover, although religious disaffiliation has been well documented, more research on religious disaffiliation and its impact on faith-based community organizing is desirable. In a world where the religious landscape is changing, there is potential for more secular–sacred hybrid movements to be created. While religious institutions have been around for a long time, the movement away from them is occurring rapidly.TAT provides a blueprint for how to adapt religious traditions in a way that still honors them. Amending religious practices that create social capital to fit the spiritual needs of the people and community today, TAT provides a possible solution for how religious institutions and congregation-based organizations can acclimate and continue to exist in the future as religious disaffiliation continues.

Notes 1 “Turnaround Tuesday.” 2019. BUILD Baltimore. Baltimoreans United in Leadership Development. www.buildiaf.org/turnaround-tuesday/. 2 Melvin Wilson (Co-Director of TAT) in discussion with author, May 2020. 3 Betsy Cooper et al., 2016.“Exodus:Why Americans Are Leaving Religion-and Why They’re Unlikely to Come Back.”PRRI. Public Religion Research Institute. September 22. www.prri.org/research/prrirns-poll-nones-atheist-leaving-religion/.

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Discourse of faith and power 4 “QuickFacts: Baltimore City, Maryland.” 2018. United States Census Bureau. US Department of Commerce. July 1. www.census.gov/quickfacts/fact/table/baltimorecitymaryland/PST045218. 5 Randy Yeip. 2015.“Baltimore’s Demographic Divide.” The Wall Street Journal. Dow Jones & Company. May 1. http://graphics.wsj.com/baltimore-demographics/. 6 Raj Chetty et al., 2018. Opportunity Atlas: Mapping the Childhood Roots of Social Mobility. Opportunity Insights. www.opportunityatlas.org/. 7 Garrett Power. 1983. “Apartheid Baltimore Style: The Residential Segregation Ordinances of 1910– 1913.” Maryland Law Review 42 (2). 8 Garrett Power.“Apartheid Baltimore Style,” p. 318. 9 Garrett Power.“Apartheid Baltimore Style,” p. 316. 10 Garrett Power.“Apartheid Baltimore Style,” p. 318. 11 Antero Pietila. 2012. Not in My Neighborhood: How Bigotry Shaped a Great American City. Chicago: Ivan R. Dee. p. 62. 12 Antero Pietila. Not in My Neighborhood, p. 63. 13 Antero Pietila. Not in My Neighborhood, p. 63. 14 Garrett Power.“Apartheid Baltimore Style,” p. 321. 15 Garrett Power.“Apartheid Baltimore Style,” p. 322. 16 Becky M. Nicolaides and Andrew Wiese. 2006. The Suburb Reader.Abingdon: Routledge. p. 332. 17 Richard F. Weingroff. 2017. “Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956: Creating the Interstate System.” Federal Highway Administration. US Department of Transportation. January 31. www.fhwa.dot.gov/ publications/publicroads/96summer/p96su10.cfm. 18 Yeip, Randy. 2015.“Baltimore’s Demographic Divide.” The Wall Street Journal. 19 Betsy Cooper et al., 2016.“Exodus:Why Americans Are Leaving Religion-and Why They’re Unlikely to Come Back.” PRRI. 20 “‘Nones’ on the Rise.” 2012. Pew Research Center’s Religion & Public Life. Pew Research Center. October 9. www.pewforum.org/2012/10/09/nones-on-the-rise/. 21 Jeffrey M. Jones. 2019.“U.S. Church Membership Down Sharply in Past Two Decades.” Gallup. Gallup Inc. April 18. https://news.gallup.com/poll/248837/church-membership-down-sharply-past-twodecades.aspx. 22 “‘Nones’ on the Rise.” 2012. Pew Research Center’s Religion & Public Life. 23 “‘Nones’ on the Rise.” 2012. 24 Betsy Cooper et al., 2016. 25 Brian D. Christens and Paul W. Speer. 2015. “Community Organizing: Practice, Research, and Policy Implications.” Social Issues and Policy Review 9 (1): pp. 193–222. doi: 10.1111/sipr.12014. See chapters in this volume by Linda Noonan (Chapter 20) and Trey Hammond and Phil Tom (Chapter 21) for more background on community organizing movements. 26 Robert D. Putnam, Lewis M. Feldstein, and Don Cohen. 2003. Better Together: Restoring the American Community. New York: Simon & Schuster, p. 1. 27 Robert D. Putnam, Lewis M. Feldstein, and Don Cohen. 2003. Better Together: Restoring the American Community. p. 2. 28 “About BUILD.” 2019. BUILD Baltimore. Baltimoreans United in Leadership Development. www. buildiaf.org/about-build/. 29 Michael Gecan. p. 137. 30 Cheryl Finney (Senior Program Manager of TAT) in discussion with the author, February 2019. 31 “About BUILD.” 2019. BUILD Baltimore. 32 Michael Gecan. p. 138. 33 “Members.” 2019. BUILD Baltimore. Baltimoreans United in Leadership Development. www.buildiaf. org/members. 34 Harold A. McDougall. 1993. Black Baltimore: A New Theory of Community. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. p. 180. 35 Bishop Douglas Miles. 2019. “Baltimoreans United in Leadership Development/BUILD.” Religion and City Conference,April 6. Center for the Study of Religion and the City. Baltimore, Maryland. 36 Terrell Williams (Co-Director of TAT) in discussion with author, February 2019. 37 BNIA. 2018. “Greenmount East.” Baltimore Neighborhood Indicators Alliance. Jacob France Institute. https://bniajfi.org/community/Greenmount East/. 38 BNIA. 2018.“Greenmount East.”

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Isabella Cronin Favazza 39 “Labor Force Statistics from the Current Population Survey.” 2020. U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. May 5. www.bls.gov/cps/lfcharacteristics.htm#discouraged. 40 BNIA. 2018. 41 “‘Nones’ on the Rise.” 2012. 42 See Chapter 21, “Community organizing and congregational agency in shaping city life,” by Trey Hammond and Phil Tom for an extended discussion of the development and rise of faith-based community organizing. 43 Informant names have been anonymized. 44 Melvin Wilson (Co-Director of TAT) in discussion with author, February 2019. 45 Cheryl Finney (Senior Program Manager of TAT) in discussion with the author, February 2019 46 Terrell Williams (Co-Director of TAT) in discussion with author, February 2019. 47 “‘Nones’ on the Rise.” 2012.

Bibliography “About BUILD.” BUILD Baltimore. Baltimoreans United in Leadership Development. 2019. www.buildiaf. org/about-build/. BNIA. “Greenmount East.” Baltimore Neighborhood Indicators Alliance. 2018. Jacob France Institute. https:// bniajfi.org/community/Greenmount East/. Chetty, Raj, John Friedman, Nathanial Hendren, Kristen Watkins, and David Williams. Opportunity Atlas: Mapping the Childhood Roots of Social Mobility. Opportunity Insights. 2018. www.opportunityatlas.org/. Christens, Brian D. and Paul W. Speer. “Community Organizing: Practice, Research, and Policy Implications.” Social Issues and Policy Review 9, No. 1 (2015): pp. 193–222. doi: 10.1111/sipr.12014. Cooper, Betsy, Daniel Cox, Rachel Lienesch, and Robert P. Jones. “Exodus:Why Americans Are Leaving Religion-and Why They’re Unlikely to Come Back.” PRRI: Public Religion Research Institute. Accessed September 22, 2016. www.prri.org/research/prri-rns-poll-nones-atheist-leaving-religion/. Finney, Cheryl (Senior Program Manager of TAT) in Discussion with the Author, February 2019. Fulton, Brad and Richard L Wood. “Interfaith Community Organizing Emerging Theological and Organizational Challenges.” International Journal of Public Theology 6, No. 4 (2012): pp. 398–420. Gecan, Michael. Going Public: An Organizer's Guide to Citizen Action. First Edn (New York: Anchor Books, 2004). Jones, Jeffrey M. “U.S. Church Membership Down Sharply in Past Two Decades.” Gallup. Gallup Inc. https://news.gallup.com/poll/248837/church-membership-down-sharply-past-two-decades.aspx. “Labor Force Statistics from the Current Population Survey.” US Bureau of Labor Statistics.Accessed May 5, 2020. www.bls.gov/cps/lfcharacteristics.htm#discouraged. McDougall, Harold A. Black Baltimore: A New Theory of Community (Philadelphia, PA:Temple University Press, 1993). “Members.” BUILD Baltimore. 2019. Baltimoreans United In Leadership Development. www.buildiaf.org/ members. Miles, Bishop Douglas. “Baltimoreans United in Leadership Development/BUILD.” Religion and City Conference,April 6, 2019. Center for the Study of Religion and the City. Baltimore, MD. Nicolaides, Becky M. and Andrew Wiese. The Suburb Reader (New York: Routledge, 2006), pp. 322–37. “‘Nones’ on the Rise.” Pew Research Center's Religion & Public Life. Pew Research Center.Accessed October 9, 2012. www.pewforum.org/2012/10/09/nones-on-the-rise/. Pietila, Antero. Not in My Neighborhood: How Bigotry Shaped a Great American City (Chicago, IL: Ivan R. Dee, 2012). Power, Garrett. “Apartheid Baltimore Style: The Residential Segregation Ordinances of 1910– 1913.” Maryland Law Review 42, No. 2 (1983): pp. 289–328. Putnam, Robert D., Lewis M. Feldstein, and Don Cohen. Better Together: Restoring the American Community (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2003). “QuickFacts: Baltimore City, Maryland.” United States Census Bureau. US Department of Commerce. Accessed July 1, 2018. www.census.gov/quickfacts/fact/table/baltimorecitymaryland/PST045218. “Turnaround Tuesday.” BUILD Baltimore. 2019. Baltimoreans United In Leadership Development. www. buildiaf.org/turnaround-tuesday/. Warren, Mark R.“Community Building and Political Power.” American Behavioral Scientist 42, No. 1 (1998): p. 78.

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Discourse of faith and power Weingroff, Richard F.“Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956: Creating the Interstate System.” Federal Highway Administration. US Department of Transportation. Accessed January 31, 2017. www.fhwa.dot.gov/pub lications/publicroads/96summer/p96su10.cfm. Williams,Terrell (Co-Director of TAT) in Discussion with Author, February 2019. Wilson, Melvin (Co-Director of TAT) in discussion with Author, February 2019. Wilson, Melvin (Co-Director of TAT) in discussion with Author, May 2020. Yeip, Randy.“Baltimore’s Demographic Divide.” The Wall Street Journal. Dow Jones & Company. Accessed May 1, 2019. graphics.wsj.com/baltimore-demographics/.

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23 CONFEDERATE MONUMENTS AND THE ART OF THE UPRISING A hauntology of Baltimore Marcos Bisticas-Cocoves and Harold D. Morales

“If I am getting ready to speak at length about ghosts, inheritance, and generations, generations of ghosts, which is to say about certain others who are not present, nor presently living, either to us, in us, or outside us, it is in the name of justice.” Derrida, Specters of Marx A painting hangs in the Maryland Historical Society. It is titled “The Settlement of Maryland by Lord Baltimore” and was painted in 1861 by Emanuel Gottlieb Leutze. It depicts the peaceful arrival of the Europeans at St. Mary’s, Maryland, and their welcome by indigenous leaders.The scene is witnessed and blessed by a Catholic priest. In the foreground, indigenous people sit or kneel, displaying the bounty of the land. In the background, soldiers march in, helmets on heads, spears in hand, holding a flag aloft. More ships arrive further in the background, and a European house is half-built on a hill facing the water. If we wanted to, we could take time to identify some of the figures in the painting. Perhaps the European leader is Lord Baltimore’s younger brother, George Calvert; perhaps the priest is the Jesuit Father Andrew White. Perhaps, but it ultimately does not matter because the scene most certainly never took place. As Julia King observes, the indigenous peoples depicted in the painting are clearly from the Great Plains; they are not the Yaocomico that the Europeans encountered in Maryland.1 And, of course, colonialism is never so simple and peaceful as the shaking of hands depicted in the painting.That the painting glorifies colonialism is not surprising when we remember who the artist was.Also in 1861, Leutze painted “Westward the Course of Empire Takes Its Way.” The latter mural, which can be found in the United States Capitol building, depicts the Manifest Destiny of the European settlers arriving in a California from which indigenous communities are curiously omitted. We could describe the paintings as revisionist icons of colonialism, as instantiating a founding myth of a country at a time when it was moving toward civil war.And we would not be wrong. However, we would like to reframe the discussion by changing the interpretive trope: the paintings are haunted.They are haunted, for instance, by the replacement of the Yaocomico—a people who had not survived to Leutze’s time—by a “Generic Indian” in the first painting, and by the erasure of indigenous people in the second. Both paintings conjure a history that never

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happened, and both are located in the sanctums of official memory and power—and this is no accident. Both invoke that-which-was-not in a moment when the nation was haunted by the specter of dissolution. It is not merely a question of a history falsely told which now can be told correctly. It is not simply a question of exorcising these ghosts. Rather, we would like to invoke them, linger with them, ask them some questions. All in the name of justice.Their presence-as-absence is important to the story. How many people in the City and County of Baltimore know that these lands were once the hunting grounds of the Susquehannock people? How is the city haunted by their erasure, and how is the state haunted by Leutze’s painting? *** Emerging literature on religion and cities has developed seminal ecological studies of how religions and cities act upon one another.2 This work increasingly centers issues of justice and must continue to do so while also providing substantive responses to post-structuralist critiques of the concept of justice itself.This chapter draws on Jacques Derrida’s Specters of Marx in order to develop a hauntological approach to the study of religion and cities that centers justice while wrestling with its paradoxical character.3 We begin with an overview of the context in which Derrida’s work emerged, and then proceed to the lessons to be drawn from it.We then provide an engagement with two hauntings in Baltimore: the disappearance of Confederate memorials and the appearance of art surrounding the Baltimore Uprising. Finally, we conclude by outlining suggestions for future hauntologies of religion and cities.

Contextualizing Specters of Marx The text that became Specters of Marx was first presented as a two-part plenary address at a conference,“Whither Marxism? Global Crises in International Perspective,” at the University of California at Riverside in April, 1993. Derrida edited and expanded the lectures and published them in book form that same year.The text became available in English in 1994, as did a companion volume of proceedings.4 The moment and theme of the conference provide important context to Derrida’s intervention. Whither Marxism after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989? Whither Marxism after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991? Whither Marxism after the complicated legacy of a political and intellectual movement that harbored both the promise of human liberation and the violence of totalitarianism? Whither—both where did Marxism go, how did it end up where it did; and where is it going, what is its future? As Derrida notes, these questions shaped a generation of intellectuals, himself included; and these questions returned with particular force at this moment in history. Derrida’s response to the question “Whither Marxism?” can be situated in wider post-structuralist critiques of Marx. In the Order of Things (1966), for instance, Foucault famously writes that, “Marxism exists in nineteenth century thought like a fish in water: that is, it is unable to breathe anywhere else.” He reduces the conflict between bourgeois and revolutionary economics to “no more than storms in a children’s paddling pool.”5 Deleuze and Guattari (1972) and Lyotard (1979) similarly problematize the Marxist legacy of European intellectual and political movements. Perhaps a key to understanding the initial phases of post-structuralism as a movement is with Marxism in the background as a foil. On the surface, at least, Derrida is a late-comer to these critiques. His corpus was once characterized as apolitical at best and a refuge for conservatism at worst. Some would say that

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Derrida turned to the political only in the late 1980s—although others, Derrida included, would say that his work had been political all along. Still, Specters, along with works like “Force of Law” (1990) and Given Time (1992), are an explicit turn to the political and to justice. This same period is also a turn to religion for Derrida. Religious themes have appeared in his work since the 1960s. However, the 1990s saw an engagement with Abrahamic traditions and their relation to the political. “Force of Law,” for instance, thinks through the mystical foundation of authority and divine violence. Specters can be read as a meditation on eschatology, the messianic, and Marx.“Faith and Knowledge” (1996) is an investigation of religion generally, and continues his exploration of themes such as justice and the messianic.6 There is significant literature on Specters. Its reception has a number of streams.With regard to Derrida’s Marxist critics, Michael Sprinker writes that the text received responses “ranging from skepticism, to ire, to outright contempt.”7 Even the response of those sympathetic to Derrida, like Gayatri Spivak, has been modulated.8 More interesting for the purposes of this chapter, however, are the appropriations of the text, and in particular of the logic of hauntology which is presented in Specters. These appropriations can be found in literary theory, aesthetics, political science, and psychoanalytic theory. These include such works as Mark Fisher’s “The Metaphysics of Crackle:Afrofuturism and Hauntology,”Alvin Cheng-Hin Lim’s “A Cambodian Hauntology,” and Colin Davis’ Haunted Subjects: Deconstruction, Psychoanalysis and the Return of the Dead.This chapter is yet another appropriation, in the name of justice and the ghosts of our city, and is in debt to those that have come before.

Lessons from Specters We often seek justice in the name of the dead. Justice for Freddie Gray, for Korryn Gaines, and for so many others who have been killed by police. But what does it mean to call for justice for someone who has died? If justice is corrective or reparative, how can these dead be compensated? These are not rhetorical questions meant to deny the possibility of justice or reparations. Rather, they point to a paradox at the center of the idea of justice, a paradox that Derrida and Specters help us to think.9 Derrida approaches these issues through the figure of the ghost. He writes that it is “almost impossible … to speak always of the specter.”10 Still, he writes,“A specter is a paradoxical incorporation.”11 It is and is not, it is somehow between being and non-being. A ghost is a dead past that has somehow erupted into the present, or a premonition of that which is to come. It is something that has returned—a revenant, a haunting, a reckoning of something gone wrong. Ghosts are partially but never completely seen or felt; there is always an aspect of hiddenness to them—either they hide something from us or we from them. Derrida considers the ghost of Hamlet’s father in Shakespeare’s play, a ghost who is anticipated, sought after, conjured; a specter who appears but is hidden by armor and a visor, who returns to task his son with the work of retribution, of justice: to kill the one who killed him.The son thus inherits from his father’s ghost a world gone badly wrong and the task of setting it right. Building on this, a hauntology is a logic of haunting.12 Although it may be a play on the word “ontology,” it is not reducible to either ontology or positive or negative theology.13 Rather, it is a thinking of that which is between being and not-being, presence and absence, utterability and unutterability, life and death. It begins with a questioning of presence, with a critique of the totalitarian weight given to the present in order to make a space for us and others to be and not be knowable and unknowable, calculable and incalculable. In this, it echoes some of Derrida’s other deconstructive strategies: différance, trace, supplement, and aporia. Specters itself is a hauntological reading of Marxism; but we will use the logic of haunting to other ends. 334

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The idea of a disjointed temporality is central to hauntology. “Time is out of joint,” writes Derrida, quoting Hamlet again.14 This can have at least two significations. First, teleological philosophies of history, whether Hegel’s or Marx’s or Fukuyama’s, assume an easy continuity of the present with the future and the past, a march to a clear and predetermined goal.Yet the promise of the Marxist telos, for instance, has not been realized; and the fault may not lie with Marx or any particular vision of the end, but with a philosophy of history that looks at the future as calculable, as a species of the present.What if the past and the future can be radically discontinuous with the present? What if the future can exceed and undermine any telos? Derrida identifies this excess with the eskhaton and contrasts it to a telos: Is there not a messianic extremity here, an eskhaton whose ultimate event (immediate rupture, unheard-of interruption, untimeliness of the infinite surprise, heterogeneity without accomplishment) can exceed, at each moment … the telos of any history.15 He further identifies this messianism,“a messianism without religion, even a messianic without messianism” with “emancipatory promise.”16 The phrase “time is out of joint” also means that “things are going badly:” what was supposed to have happened has not, things have gone off the rails, we live in situations of disjointedness, a time of injustice.Yet, paradoxically, it is this very disjuncture that is at the heart of justice for Derrida. He characterizes the conventional understanding of justice as calculative and retributive. This can take different forms: both distributive and corrective justice assume calculation. Justice as retribution assumes an identity between subjects that allows for universal law and for proportionate punishment. Derrida questions this: if justice were simply vengeance, why, for instance, would Hamlet hesitate to kill his father’s murderer? If justice were merely law and calculation, what of the absolute otherness of the other, a singularity that is not reducible to identity? How is the effacing of that difference just? He proposes an alternative: disjuncture is the condition of the possibility of justice. Any just approach to the other is the recognition of their radical singularity, and no universal law can do them justice. If this is the case, then justice is not merely a making-right by balancing the scales and not a duty demanded by the universal moral law. Rather, it is a gift, or a promise of a gift, an excess that goes beyond any calculative demand. It is a gift that asks for nothing in return. It is a giving to the other as singular and there is no assurance that it would be a making-right. Derrida admits that thinking justice as disjuncture carries a risk: if the future is not completely calculable, if time is out of joint, then the possibility of choice, and thus of injustice, enters. However, it is only through this risk that singularity and justice can arrive. That said, Derrida is not arguing that we should abandon the work of calculable justice and the universal. In his discussion of what he calls the New International, he argues for a double strategy: on the one hand, we should have recourse to some vision of the universal as a regulative ideal by which we can critique the empirical reality that confronts us. On the other, we should engage in a critique of these very universals that we are deploying.These two strategies “must not be added together but intertwined … They must be implicated with each other in the course of a complex and constantly re-evaluated strategy.”17 We can, for instance, agitate for equality (sameness) or even equity (fairness) and still be critical of the limits and the assumptions of both ideals. Continuing this complication of the universal, Derrida later considers the proliferation of ghosts. He does so through a reading of the German Ideology, but his analysis has implications beyond that text.18 A single ghost, he writes, is but “a ghost of ghosts,” which generates “an incalculable multiplicity.” (Of hauntings? Of instances? One thinks again of the revenant.) 335

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This ghost which is one-and-many is “but a concept, not even a concept.” It is a metonymy, a part or singularity standing for the whole or the universal, that “lends itself to any and all substitutions.”19 In other words, we must problematize the relation of instance and concept. The latter claims to take the universal as a representative of the singular—and the reverse—in some easy way. However, the proliferation of singular individuals is too great to calculate, and so we amalgamate, elide, and erase. That is, we spectralize the singular in the process of the creation of a spectral concept. A more concrete example: how are reparations possible? For colonization, for slavery, for the Holocaust? What calculation can make things right? What metonymy is at play? Where is justice here? How can one pay reparations to the dead or to those not yet born—that is, to ghosts? There is a sense in which reparations are never enough because the myriad injustices of colonization, slavery, or the Holocaust can never be calculated; each is radically singular and cannot be undone. On the other hand, reparations are necessary: there is an inequity that must be addressed.The guilty may try to make things right, knowing that they cannot be made right and not deceiving themselves that they have been or will be made right.Again, this is not merely a calculable duty: it is also a gift beyond all calculation. Justice is recognizing the absolute otherness of the other and the gulf between us, knowing that we may never bridge that gulf, and yet still giving and not expecting anything in exchange. There are a number of lessons that we can take from hauntology with regard to religion and the city. The past haunts our cities: the past that was, that might have been, that should have been, and that will be or should be. Our cities are possessed by revenants, anticipated reiterations of old stories. Rather than taking a stand with regard to Derrida’s reading of Marx—though we are sympathetic both to the Marxist and deconstructive projects—our primary commitment is to the city of Baltimore and to coming to terms with the ghosts that haunt it, especially those of racism and classism. Rather than provide a formula for how to achieve justice, a hauntological approach asks us to engage in the difficult and troubling work of dwelling and mourning with our city’s ghosts, to listen to their grievances, to ask questions alongside them, and to work together to make things right. This making-right, a wrestling with justice, is about giving as much, if not more, as it is about duty; it is about the singular and its radical difference at least as much as it is about the universal and its possibility for envisioning paths toward justice. The singular always exceeds the law; reducing the singular to an instance of the universal does violence to it; yet we cannot dispense with the universal, it makes the work of mourning (of organizing and acting against injustice) possible. If we are committed to justice, we are committed to this impossible paradox. Two examples, one regarding monuments, the other murals, will serve as conjurations of our commitment to this impossible and necessary work.

Monuments Like many localities in the United States, especially but not exclusively in the South, Baltimore was home to monuments dedicated to the Confederacy. Nationwide, the majority of these were erected from about 1890 to 1950, well after the US Civil War, during the period of Jim Crow laws and racial segregation.There were four such monuments in Baltimore. On August 15, 2017, Baltimore’s City Council voted unanimously to remove all four.The City did so the next day in the middle of the night, a ghostly hour, which made it seem as if they had simply disappeared. The removal was officially termed a “deconstruction” by the city (the shade of Derrida?). It was explicitly an attempt to find middle ground between the preservation of the statues and their destruction. A Baltimore Brew article recounts a conversation by city officials: 336

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‘We need to destroy them,’ [Councilman Brandon M.] Scott announced bluntly at the City Council luncheon yesterday [August 14, 2017]. That was going too far for City Council President Bernard C. ‘Jack’Young and several others who said the statues should be removed, but not destroyed. ‘I’m opposed to going down the path of destroying anything that’s artwork or human knowledge,’ said Eric T. Costello.‘I think they should be buried in a very dark closet or storage out of sight.’ Councilman Isaac ‘Yitzy’ Schleifer agreed, citing the preservation of artifacts at the Holocaust Museum.20 One of these Confederate memorials in Baltimore was the Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee Monument. It was dedicated in 1948, later than most. Where the monumental figures of Jackson and Lee once stood, there is now an empty pedestal whose inscription reads: “They were great generals and Christian soldiers and waged war like gentlemen.” This inscription conjures a very particular spirit of Christianity: Southern, genteel, white. Both Jackson and Lee were devout: the former was Presbyterian, the latter Episcopalian. Both men supported slavery in part because of their Christianity—the “peculiar institution” that made possible the forced Christianization of enslaved Africans.While no mention is made of slavery in the inscription, it can be read as a polemic and, in particular, as a defense. Even today, Jackson and Lee have their apologists. Casting them as good Christian gentlemen is a response to criticisms of their legacy and, by extension, the legacy of the Confederacy. An absent criticism which haunts these legacies, which haunted the memorial even as it stood, is the condemnation of slaveholding religion. Frederick Douglass, himself a Baltimorean, explicitly conjures multiple figurations of Christianity in the appendix to his Autobiography: What I have said respecting and against religion, I mean strictly to apply to the slaveholding religion of this land, and with no possible reference to Christianity proper; for, between the Christianity of this land, and the Christianity of Christ, I recognize the widest possible difference—so wide, that to receive the one as good, pure, and holy, is of necessity to reject the other as bad, corrupt, and wicked.To be the friend of the one, is of necessity to be the enemy of the other. 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.21 The inscription, then, invokes these dual Christianities, implicit critique and explicit defense, absence and presence, without both of which the memorial would be pointless. At the 1948 dedication of the Jackson and Lee monument, Baltimore’s then mayor,Thomas D’Alesandro, said “we can look for inspiration to the lives of Jackson and Lee to remind us to be resolute and determined in preserving our sacred institutions.”The bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Maryland, Noble C. Powell’s presence at the dedication lent itself to a ritual attempt to imbue the monument with the power to preserve “sacred institutions.” In response, the editorial board of The Baltimore Afro-American newspaper wrote on May 15, 1948:“The ‘sacred institution’ they sought to preserve was slavery.”22 A 2018 Washington Post article notes that the first African-American bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Maryland, Eugene Taylor Sutton, was present at the 2017 “deconstruction” of the monument, responding: “As a person of faith, as a Christian, the reference was clear and distasteful … Their cause was not noble, that cause died, and it needed to die and not be resurrected.”23 Monuments are haunted places, and there are several layers of ghostliness here. The most superficial: a person who has passed, a time that is gone is re-membered. An absence is made 337

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present while still absent.There is a second absence here: a monument is not a grave, and Jackson and Lee were never buried here. A third layer: the event commemorated by the monument, the Battle of Chancellorsville, did not happen in Baltimore, or even Maryland, but in Virginia; a ghost from afar is invoked. Finally, the deconstruction was the creation of yet another layer of ghostliness. It might be considered an attempt at an exorcism. However, as Derrida warns, every exorcism is an invocation.The monument is gone, but the pedestal and the inscriptions remain. The absence on the pedestal now conjures up memories of when it was present, thus leaving it yet again between being and non-being, a ghostly figure that still haunts Baltimore. Confederate monuments are haunted in a very particular way.They are not simply memorials of the Civil War—they came far too late for that. Rather, they were—and are—the weaponized art of segregationists. They are Jim Crow art: they can be read as warnings to Black Baltimore, reminders that the segregationists were and are still here and that the Lost Cause returns again and again, a ghostly revenant. And let us not forget that the ghost of Jim Crow haunts Baltimore still.The laws might be gone, just as the statues are gone from their pedestals, but hyper-segregation still shapes the city’s neighborhoods.24 Exorcising the memorials was not a complete solution, just as removing the laws did not end structural racism. What, then, is to be done with the ghosts of Jim Crow? As stated above, the city’s deconstruction seems to suggest one possibility: the monuments should be hidden, an exorcism which is necessarily partial and failed.The statues are gone but the bases and the inscriptions, the names are still there, still invoked each time someone stops and reads them. Another possibility is an attempt at absolute exorcism, that is, destruction. Melt down the statues and shatter the pedestals. The invocation of the Holocaust above invites comparison with the systematic destruction of Nazi art in Germany after World War II. It has echoes in the destruction of Stalinist art. This would not be some form of erasure, as some commentators suggest. History would not be erased; rather, honor would be withdrawn.That this destruction is more controversial in the United States than in Germany and the former Eastern Bloc might speak to the Confederate ghosts still haunting the halls of power today.25 Artist Titus Kaphar offers a third alternative, transformation: Publicly we’re having a very binary conversation about these sculptures, and it’s by and large one group saying keep it up and the other group saying take it down.And if the conversation is binary then my opinion is to take them down, but I don’t think it has to be binary. I think there are other options … I imagine a possibility where contemporary artists are engaged to make public works that stand in the same squares as these problematic pieces that we are forced to walk by daily. I think an important part of the conversation is to take those sculptures off of their pedestals, but leave them in the squares and bring those contemporary artists to the space … Put out some request for proposals, engage the community, and get artists making pieces that they feel speak to the future.Those areas then become spaces of civic dialogue, places where we can commit to having those difficult conversations that are absolutely necessary for us to have if we’re actually going to advance.26 Even so, transformation has its limits. Soon after the deconstruction of the Jackson and Lee Monument, activists placed another statue on the pedestal: ‘Madre Luz’ by Uruguayan-born artist Pablo Machioli.27 It depicted a pregnant Black woman, naked from the waist up, carrying a baby on her back, her fist raised to the sky, in clear evocation of the Black Power movement. The statue was destroyed by vandals in the night. It never had the chance to be removed, fully intact, to the safety of some city closet. 338

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Again, what is to be done? The monuments are gone, but things are still going badly in and for Baltimore. What role does the city play in this? A hauntology might evoke at least three ghosts of the city—first, a city from the past that is here now to both demand justice and stand trial; second, a city of the present that is both present and absent, committing to change yet unable to deliver; and a third city from the future which may only exist as a promise, a ghost in the present, a eutopia which is an outopia, a good place which is no place. What vision of justice is being conjured in order to evaluate the city’s moral shortcomings, to conclude that things are going badly? Perhaps we should take Derrida’s idea of justice as gift seriously, as distinct from law and duty. One possibility can be found in the protests which followed the death of George Floyd in 2020: turn the statues, the pedestals, and the squares over to the descendants of those most harmed by the history of slavery and Jim Crow.They will know what to do.

The art of the Uprising On the morning of April 12, 2015, Freddie Carlos Gray, a young Black man, made eye contact with a Baltimore City police officer on a bicycle and ran.The police pursued, caught up with him, and arrested him for possession of a switchblade. Shortly after, a police van arrived and officers placed Gray in it.When the van arrived at the police station, Gray was not breathing and was in a coma. His spine was almost completely severed while in police custody. He died a week later from the injury, never having regained consciousness. He was 25 years old. There are several questions surrounding the case. Did the officers have probable cause to pursue? Was the knife, in fact, not a switchblade and therefore legal? Was Gray subjected to a “rough ride”—a form of police brutality in which a handcuffed prisoner is placed in a police vehicle, not strapped in with a seatbelt, and thrown about the vehicle by the officer’s intentionally violent driving? If not, then how was he injured? The official response to Gray’s death took many forms. Six officers were indicted for his death; all were either acquitted or had the charges against them dropped.The family reached a financial settlement with the city; the city acknowledged no wrong-doing by the police. The U.S. Department of Justice issued a report on the Baltimore Police Department, finding that it engaged in systematic racism and constitutional violations; the report resulted in a consent decree with the federal government, according to which the department was to make radical changes in how it works with the community.28 The death of Freddie Gray resonated deeply through the communities of Baltimore, especially Black communities. In the days after his death, there was violence and looting by both police officers and community members. More significant and sustained, however, were the other interventions in what came to be called the Baltimore Uprising. Stretching over the next weeks, the Uprising involved legal protests and civil disobedience, activism and art, a peaceful coming-together of marginalized communities, and tense confrontations with the police and media.29 Gray’s death was the occasion of the Uprising, but not its sole cause. As the Department of Justice report clearly documents, too many Black people, young and not, had died at the hands of the police, or had been beaten by them, or had been harassed and arrested for no good reason. In addition, the Uprising was as much about segregation and poverty and autonomy as it was about the police. It was about lead in the water pipes of public schools that few white students attend. It was about lack of housing and lack of healthcare, it was about food apartheid and closed community centers, it was about buses that never come to take you to jobs that don’t exist.30 It was about injustice. 339

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One of the most famous images to come out of the Uprising is a photograph by Baltimore native Devin Allen.31 In the foreground is a young Black man, his lower face covered by a mask. In the background, white riot police rush in, helmets on, batons in hand.The young man is running, perhaps away from the police. The photo made the cover of Time magazine with the cover line, “America, 1968 2015:What Has Changed,What Hasn’t.”The image is in black and white, and the title of the cover has the year 1968 crossed out, both evoking an era from America’s past.32 What does it mean to strike out “1968”? It is simultaneously present and absent, both an invocation and an exorcism.What ghosts, then, are being invoked and exorcized? Clearly it is the ghost of the 1968 riots and of Black violence—or, rather, the specter of white fear. In 2015, the national media reported on the riots in Baltimore, not the Uprising; it characterized the entire event by the violence of some.33 By invoking 1968, Time magazine is exorcising the Uprising itself, rendering a vibrant resistance invisible and insubstantial.What does it mean to foreground the specter of violence, the present as a repetition of the past, a revenant that might return in an infinite future? Allen richly documented the various aspects of the Uprising. This image, as powerful and striking as it is, could easily have been replaced by one of his others.The editors of Time made a choice. In a short piece on Allen himself, Time published a number of his photographs from the Uprising: a young woman, calmly weeping at a protest at City Hall, wearing a t-shirt with the logo, “Justice for Freddie Gray.” A man holding a small child at another protest. Neighbors in West Baltimore coming together to form a peace circle.These images do not make the cover, for they do not summon the “right” spirit. Allen’s cover photograph resurfaced on the internet after the killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis—with the “2015” crossed out, replaced with “2020.” In addition, Allen’s work returned to Time’s coverage of the ensuing protests: his photograph of a Black Trans Lives Matter demonstration in Baltimore made the cover of the June 22/29 2020 issue.The piece is accompanied by the headline,“The Overdue Awakening.” (A ghost of the Second Great Awakening?) Perhaps this is progress: the present moment is centered, as is Black subjectivity. However, the headline and the story itself are yet again in tension with the photograph: it is not Black communities that have been awakened in the article, but white; and there is no mention of trans lives in the story at all. Another visual expression of the Uprising is a mural by local artist, Justin “Nether” Nethercut. The mural is a triptych.The left panel draws from an iconic photograph of the 1965 march from Selma to Montgomery, with Martin Luther King Jr. leading the protesters. The figures are in black and white; the United States flags that they hold aloft are in color, as is the sky.The figures in the right panel are also in black and white, suggesting a connection with the left panel; it depicts marchers led by Brandon Ross, friend and god-brother of Freddie Gray, from the 2015 Baltimore Uprisings. A figure in the right panel also holds a United States flag, again in color and in contrast to the rest of the black and white panel. The middle panel holds a large color portrait of Gray; its size, color, and placement make him the clear focal point of the piece. His direct gaze and the structure of the triptych recall religious icons generally and those of the saints in particular—the saints who are, after all, beloved ghosts who often were martyred at the hands of unjust authorities. This icon raises the question of metonymy, of having a part stand for the whole. On the one hand, we can see many of the problems of the city exemplified in the death of Freddie Gray; this is why his death had such resonance. On the other hand, every life, every death is singular: to reduce someone to an example of injustice, to an icon, is to make them into a ghost in their own story.Yet Gray and countless others have been victimized by police because they are reduced to 340

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a category; their singularity is not seen, only their Blackness.Then again, what countless ghosts are effaced in the story of an icon? Where is the mural for Korryn Gaines, a Black woman shot in a standoff with police in Baltimore County in 2016? There are dueling paradigms of justice here that cannot be reconciled, and both must be deployed; Freddie Gray as a symbol and at the same time as a beloved singular individual. Nether’s mural has its supporters and detractors. One of the latter is activist J.C. Faulk, who collaborated with Nether on the mural during its initial stages. Faulk has criticized the inclusion of the flag as evoking slavery and colonialism. He relates a story: ‘I was standing at the mural and this sister comes up to me, she’s 74 years old,’ Faulk recalls. She looks at the mural and says, ‘Nice mural but, a white guy did that.’ And I said, ‘How did you know that? How did you know that a white guy did it?’ And she said,‘Because black people don’t walk around in protest with flags.’34 Nether argues that the flag on the left panel was part of the original photograph of the Selma march that he based the painting on. He further claims that the flag on the right panel, which was not part of the photographic source for the painting, came from Brandon Ross: “I talked about it with Brandon and he didn’t want the flag in gray scale, so we went with reclamation of the red, white, and blue American flag.”35 As Devin Allen documents, United States flags were present during the protests, but they did not convey the simple, hopeful message of Nether’s mural. One of his photographs shows a protester wearing the flag like a shawl.The flag itself is upside down.The names of those killed by police have been written onto the white stripes.36 This is not a “reclamation,” but an indictment. Just as Time frames Allen’s photograph as a ghost of the past, so too Nether’s mural poses an equivalence, a repetition between then and now, with the now reduced to a black-and-white variation of the then.Yet this “now” never existed. Not only does the panel on the right conjure a ghostly flag from 1965 that was absent from its photographic source, the upside-down flags present have been banished.At least this now is a conjuration of 1965 and not 1968. What does it mean to engage the mural’s flag as a ghost? What if the mural is not a conjuration of Freddie Gray, but an invocation of “America,” an America that, for some, should be reformed and reclaimed, but for others, criticized and rejected? The word “symbol” is too small for the myriad “Americas” of this haunting. Even if the flag were not included in the right panel or were painted over in some future, its absence would conjure its presence, like the empty pedestal that once held statues of Lee and Jackson. But would such a ghostly absence/presence of the flag change the significance of the question: is the mural about Freddie Gray’s life or about American (in)justice? In a time that is out of joint, the question of which ghosts call to which, the question of origin and telos, becomes difficult if not impossible to engage. That does not imply that the work of mourning is a mode of nihilistic despair. It is instead a humility toward the future or any temporary telos that may inspire the work of organizing and that must be continuously criticized even as we depend on it.

Conclusion: Mourning, organizing, and the Ancestors We would like to make a number of points in closing. First, we have some hesitations about using the figure of the ghost and hauntology to analyze some lived realities of Baltimore. Our city is often stigmatized; for instance, Donald Trump tweeted that Baltimore is a “disgusting, rat and rodent infested mess,” a “dangerous & filthy place,” and “No human being would want to live there.”37 In our experience, many (white) people, unfamiliar with the city, treat The Wire as 341

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if it were a documentary that typifies the city as a whole.We are afraid that we will be misconstrued as saying that Baltimore is a city of ghosts in a way that other places, urban and rural, are not. Such an interpretation would re-inscribe the trope of urban blight and ignore the vibrancy that our city possesses. Further, we have chosen public art for our analysis. We have not done so because it is the only option. Rather, we have turned to public art because it is a receptacle for communal, and sometimes official, memory. Its spectral nature is, perhaps, closer to the surface because it intentionally evokes the dead.We could have just as easily chosen some other aspect of the city.What would it mean to do a hauntology of the city’s basic institutions? Thinking with Antero Pietila, what ghosts does Johns Hopkins University, the largest employer in the city, harbor?38 One could begin a productive hauntological analysis with the story of Henrietta Lacks, for example.39 In addition, we have focused on the ghosts of individuals, of memorials.We could have just as easily considered the ghosts of the factories that line the Inner Harbor, the proliferation of vacant row houses, or the specific ghostliness of capital itself in the city. Further still, we are committed to both working with ghosts and transforming our city. There is a famous paraphrase of labor organizer and songwriter Joe Hill as he awaited execution: “Don’t mourn, organize.” With all respect to the dead, this is a false dichotomy. Our thesis is closer to that of Hill’s contemporary and fellow labor organizer, Mother Jones:“Pray for the dead and fight like hell for the living.” But perhaps this, too, misses the mark. Prayers are for the dead; mourning is working with the dead, with their bodies, with our memories of their lives. It is mourning that is needed here, mourning for what has been lost, mourning for dreams deferred and destroyed. So, then, let us return to Hill’s words yet again and modify them: Mourn and organize. For Derrida, it is easy to conceive the work of organizing as the work of mourning: of engaging with the specters of the past and the future as they walk among us.40 Finally, there is something about the spectral in Derrida that privileges loss, suffering, and absence.And this moment of loss must not be effaced.There is no denying the pained and painful ghosts that haunt our cities, no avoiding the difficult ghosts. But what if we were to take our cue from different religious sensibilities? What would it mean to gather our ghosts around us, to invite them in? What would it mean to work with the Ancestors? A deep listening, certainly. A search for the traces of almost-lost traditions, of past strategies, of amplifying and transforming these echoes. Derrida might not approve, but then he, too, is a ghost. He argues that today’s scholars cannot speak to ghosts—but perhaps the philosophers of the future can, invoking and incorporating the Dead.

Notes 1 Julia A. King, Archaeology, Narrative, and the Politics of the Past:The View from Southern Maryland, First Edn (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 2012), p. 85. 2 In her article “Urban Space and Religion in the United States,” Katie Day provides a summary engagement with the emerging literature on religion and cities, writing that, in one study:“The congregation, therefore, was not to be considered in its own bubble but was dynamically in relationship with the economic, political, religious, and cultural forces within their contextual space.” p. 10. 3 Jacques Derrida, Specters of Marx:The State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning, and the New International (New York: Routledge, 1994). 4 Bernd Magnus and Stephen Cullenberg, Whither Marxism?: Global Crises in International Perspective (New York: Routledge, 1995). Publisher description www.loc.gov/catdir/enhancements/fy0651/ 94021674-d.html. 5 Michel Foucault, The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences (New York: Vintage Books, 1973), p. 285.

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Monuments and the art of the Uprising 6 Many but not all of Derrida’s later writings on religion are collected in Acts of Religion, ed., Gil Anidjar (New York:Verso, 2002). On his reception in religious studies, see, for example, Derrida and Religion: Other Testaments, eds,Yvonne Sherwood and Kevin Hart (New York: Routledge, 2004) and The Trace of God: Derrida and Religion, ed, Edward Baring (New York: Fordham, 2014). 7 Jacques Derrida and Michael Sprinker, Ghostly Demarcations:A Symposium on Jacques Derrida’s Specters of Marx, Radical thinkers (London:Verso, 2008), p. 2. 8 See, for instance, Gayatri Spivak,“Ghostwriting,” diacritics 25.2: pp. 65–84. 9 Our analysis would doubtless be enriched by a wider engagement with Derrida’s corpus. Our task here is narrower: to view the world through a complex of concepts from one text. 10 Derrida, Specters of Marx:The State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning, and the New International, p. 11. 11 Ibid., p. 6. 12 Ibid., p. 10. 13 Ibid., p. 63. 14 Ibid., p. 22. 15 Ibid., p. 45. 16 Ibid., p. 74. 17 Ibid., pp. 108–9. 18 Ibid., pp. 58–70. 19 Ibid., p. 173. 20 Fern Shen, “Council resolves ‘to deconstruct’ Confederate monuments,” Baltimore Brew (Baltimore), August 15, 2017. https://baltimorebrew.com/2017/08/15/council-resolves-to-deconstruct-confed erate-monuments/. 21 See the Appendix to Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave. Written by Himself: Frederick Douglass, 1818–1895. 22 “Baltimore’s Confederate Memory & Monuments” in Baltimore’s Civil Rights Heritage.https://baltimore heritage.github.io/civil-rights-heritage/confederate-memory/. 23 Jean Marbella “It’s been a year since Baltimore quietly took down its Confederate monuments,” The Baltimore Sun, August 18, 2018. www.washingtonpost.com/local/its-been-a-year-since-baltimorequietly-took-down-its-confederate-monuments/2018/08/18/979cc894-a174-11e8-8e87-c869fe70a 721_story.html. 24 See Antero Pietila, Not in My Neighborhood: How Bigotry Shaped a Great American City (Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, 2010). Book review (H-Net). www.h-net.org/reviews/showrev.php?id=31354. 25 For a sustained consideration of these issues, see Susan Neiman, Learning from the Germans: Race and the Memory of Evil, First Edn (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2019). 26 Terence Trouillot,“Titus Kaphar on Putting Black Figures Back Into Art History and His Solution for the Problem of Confederate Monuments,” Artnet News, March 27, 2019. https://news.artnet.com/a rt-world/titus-kaphar-erasure-art-history-1497391. 27 Christina Tkacik, “Meet the artist behind ‘Madre Luz’—the protest statue in Wyman Park,” August 16, 2017 2017, www.baltimoresun.com/features/baltimore-insider/bal-meet-the-artist-behind-themadre-luz-now-the-only-statue-in-wyman-park-dell-20170816-story.html. 28 See Investigation of the Baltimore Police Department, Civil Rights Division, US Department of Justice (2016), www.justice.gov/crt/file/883296/download; U.S. v. Baltimore Police – Consent Decree, United States District Court for the State of Maryland (2017), www.justice.gov/crt/case-document/file/ 925036/download; and Dayvon Love, From the Streets to the State House, podcast audio, MDGA 2020 – A Different Political Climate. https://lbsbaltimore.com/podcast-from-the-streets-to-the-statehouseep-1-1-21-2020-mdga-2020-a-different-political-climate/. 29 For more information, see the Preserve the Baltimore Uprising 2015 Archive Project. https://baltimoreuprising2015.org/. 30 See Lawrence Brown,“Healing the Black Butterfly from Contemporary and Historical Trauma,” 2015. 31 For a collection of his works that are critical of negative portraits of Baltimore, see Devin Allen, A Beautiful Ghetto (Chicago: Haymarket Books, 2017). 32 David Von Drehle,“The Roots of Baltimore’s Riot,” Time,April 30, 2015. https://time.com/magazine/ us/3841445/may-11th-2015-vol-185-no-17-u-s/. 33 For a discussion on whether the events were a riot or an uprising, see Evan Serpick’s September 24, 2015 Baltimore Sun article “Why we should call recent Baltimore events an ‘uprising.’” www.balti moresun.com/opinion/op-ed/bs-ed-baltimore-uprising-20150924-story.html. Accessed January 28, 2020.

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Marcos Bisticas-Cocoves and Harold D. Morales 34 Olivia Adams.“A Sandtown mural project is torn over the meaning of the American flag” The Baltimore Sun, September 30, 2015. www.baltimoresun.com/citypaper/bcp-093015-feature-freddie-graymural-controversy-20150930-story.html. 35 Ibid. 36 For photographs of upside-down flags, see Reginald Thomas II.“Devin Allen documents the uprising in his show ‘Awakenings, In A New Light’” in the Baltimore Sun, July 28, 2015. 37 Donald Trump, ed., @realDonaldTrump,Twitter, July 27, 2019. https://twitter.com/realdonaldtrump/ status/1155073964634517505?lang=en. 38 See Antero Pietila,The Ghosts of Johns Hopkins:The Life and Legacy that Shaped an American City (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2018). 39 See Rebecca Skloot, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, First Paperback Edn (New York: Broadway Paperbacks, 2011). 40 Derrida, Specters of Marx:The State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning, and the New International, 115.

Bibliography Allen, Devin. A Beautiful Ghetto (Chicago: Haymarket Books, 2017). Brown, Lawrence.“Healing the Black Butterfly from Contemporary and Historical Trauma.” Morgan State University, School of Community Health Report, PUBH 623.185. 2015. Accessed November 17, 2020. www.academia.edu/19871871/Healing_the_Black_Butterfly_from_Contemporary_and_Historical_ Trauma_report_by_Community_Needs_and_Solutions_students_and_faculty. Cheng-Hin Lim, Alvin. Cambodia and the Politics of Aesthetics (New York: Routledge, 2013). Davis, Colin. Haunted Subjects: Deconstruction, Psychoanalysis and the Return of the Dead (Berlin: Springer, 2007). Day, Katie.“Urban Space and Religion in the United States.” Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Religion, July 2017. Derrida, Jacques. Acts of Religion (New York: Routledge, 2013). ———.“Faith and Knowledge:The Two Sources of ‘Religion’ at the Limits of Reason Alone.” Religion 1, No. 33 (1998). 1–78. ———. “Force of Law:The Metaphysical Foundation of Authority.” In Deconstruction and the Possibility of Justice (New York: Routledge, 1992). ———. Specters of Marx:The State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning, and the New International (New York: Routledge, 1994). ———. The Trace of God: Derrida and Religion (New York: Fordham University Press, 2014). Derrida, Jacques and Michael Sprinker. Ghostly Demarcations: A Symposium on Jacques Derrida’s Specters of Marx. Radical Thinkers (London:Verso, 2008). Fisher, Mark.“The Metaphysics of Crackle:Afrofuturism and Hauntology.” Journal of Electronic Dance Music Culture 5, No. 2 (2013). Accessed November 17, 2020. https://dj.dancecult.net/index.php/dancecult/ article/view/378. Foucault, Michel. The Order of Things;An Archaeology of the Human Sciences (New York:Vintage Books, 1973). Investigation of the Baltimore Police Department. Civil Rights Division, U.S. Department of Justice. 2016. Accessed November 17, 2020. www.justice.gov/crt/file/883296/download. King, Julia A. Archaeology, Narrative, and the Politics of the Past: The View from Southern Maryland. 1st edn (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 2012). Love, Dayvon. From the Streets to the State House. Podcast Audio. MDGA 2020:A Different Political Climate. Accessed February 4, 2020. https://lbsbaltimore.com/podcast-from-the-streets-to-the-statehouse-ep1-1-21-2020-mdga-2020-a-different-political-climate/. Magnus, Bernd and Stephen Cullenberg. Whither Marxism: Global Crises in International Perspective. New York: Routledge, 1995. Publisher Description. Accessed November 17, 2020. www.loc.gov/catdir/ enhancements/fy0651/94021674-d.html. Neiman, Susan. Learning from the Germans: Race and the Memory of Evil.1st edn (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2019). Pietila, Antero. The Ghosts of Johns Hopkins: The Life and Legacy that Shaped an American City (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2018). ———. Not in My Neighborhood: How Bigotry Shaped a Great American City (Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, 2010). Book Review (H-Net).Accessed November 17, 2020. www.h-net.org/reviews/showrev.php?id=31354.

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Monuments and the art of the Uprising Shen, Fern. “Council Resolves “to Deconstruct” Confederate Monuments.” Baltimore Brew (Baltimore). Accessed August 15, 2017. https://baltimorebrew.com/2017/08/15/council-resolves-to-deconstructconfederate-monuments/. Skloot, Rebecca. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. First Paperback Edn (New York: Broadway Paperbacks, 2011). Tkacik, Christina. “Meet the Artist Behind ‘Madre Luz’—The Protest Statue in Wyman Park.” Accessed August 16, 2017. www.baltimoresun.com/features/baltimore-insider/bal-meet-the-artist-behindthe-madre-luz-now-the-only-statue-in-wyman-park-dell-20170816-story.html. Trouillot, Terence. “Titus Kaphar on Putting Black Figures Back into Art History and His Solution for the Problem of Confederate Monuments.” Artnet News.Accessed March 27, 2019. https://news.artnet. com/art-world/titus-kaphar-erasure-art-history-1497391. Trump, Donald., ed., @realDonaldTrump,Twitter. Accessed July 27, 2019. https://twitter.com/realdonald trump/status/1155073964634517505?lang=en. U.S. v. Baltimore Police—Consent Decree. United States District Court for the State of Maryland. 2017. Accessed November 17, 2020. www.justice.gov/crt/case-document/file/925036/download. Von Drehle, David.“The Roots of Baltimore’s Riot.” Time.Accessed April 30, 2015. https://time.com/mag azine/us/3841445/may-11th-2015-vol-185-no-17-u-s/.

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24 PROTESTANT URBAN MINISTRY AND THE “HOMOSEXUAL GHETTO” IN THE 1960s Heather R. White

“Treat Homosexuals as Human Beings.”This simple imperative was the headline of a September 13, 1963 article in one of San Francisco’s local newspapers.The words had been uttered by the Canon Robert Cromey, an Episcopal priest, in a Sunday morning sermon at Grace Cathedral. The sermon gave a bold plea for acceptance during an era in which homosexuality bore a triple opprobrium. Authoritative discourses of religion, law, and medicine tangled together, as historian John D’Emilio notes: “homosexual behavior was excoriated as a heinous sin, the law branded it a serious crime, and the medical profession diagnosed homosexuals and lesbians as diseased.”1 Cromey’s sermon threaded through these condemning discourses with a message of acceptance. However, his plea for tolerance was still framed within medical theories of pathology. Homosexuality, Cromey explained, was an “emotional disturbance; blocked sexual development—and very hard to cure.” At the same time, this disease framework gave further reason to heed Jesus’ example of welcome for the sick and the outcast.“Let us ask God,” Cromey intoned in closing,“to open us to receive our sinful and troubled neighbors.”2 The homosexual neighbors of which Cromey spoke were most certainly within earshot of these words. San Francisco during these years was acquiring considerable attention as America’s “gay capital”—a moniker bestowed by the national magazine, Life, in a 1964 article on “homosexuality in America.” Grace Cathedral, located at the crowning pinnacle of San Francisco’s Nob Hill, was situated within walking distance of neighborhoods identified in Life as two of the largest and most notorious of America’s “homosexual ghettos.”The Tenderloin district, with Turk Street’s infamous nightlife, was half a mile south of the cathedral; and the famous “beatnik” haunt of North Beach, also famously a homosexual scene, lay one mile in the opposite direction.3 To many of these local queer denizens, San Francisco provided the rare and life-giving opportunity to find others like themselves.These havens for queer sociability, however, appeared in the pages of Life and in other mainstream press sources as a troubling social problem. “A secret world grows open and bolder,” the Life article warned;Americans soon would be “forced to look at it.”4 A similarly squeamish commentary on homosexuality could be found in Christian publications of this time period. Christian leaders, too, expressed alarm about what they saw as a new and growing culture of sexual vice found in America’s largest cities.These authors discussed this “problem of homosexuality” with an air of distaste, even if the intention was to be sympathetic. 346

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One 1963 article, on the topic of pastoral counseling in urban churches, warned city ministers to expect troubling psychological problems:“certain parts of the inner cities” were “full of homosexuals, perverts, slaves to dope and drink, and other strange and lost individuals.”5 These descriptions of the sexual problems of the city were written to a readership that would presumably consume them as armchair voyeurs. However, not everyone could contemplate the so-called “homosexual ghetto” from such a distance; others needed only to look out the window or take a walk around the block to encounter the bars and shops that reportedly catered to a homosexual clientele. This chapter recovers the history of a cohort of clergy ministering within and adjacent to these neighborhood districts.The Rev. Robert Cromey was one of them, and his ministry and theology were transformed by what he learned about the lives of gay, lesbian, and transgender people through meeting them as neighbors.6 Cromey was one of a group of progressive Protestant clergy that went on to play an important role within the homophile movement of the 1960s.These organizers and activists laid the foundations for the more visible surge in gay activism following the 1969 Stonewall Riots. The history of LGBT activism has been widely perceived as a wholly secular development.An important complication to this narrative is that liberal Protestant clergy and churches with ministries within the so-called “homosexual ghetto” provided instrumental support at this critical moment of movement growth.

Religious and queer urban topographies This history of religious support for the 1960s homophile movement has been mentioned— often in passing—by historians of queer movements and scholars of urban religion. However, in almost every case, the unexpected fact of an LGBT organization receiving support from a congregation has been regarded as a local anomaly. Dominant narratives about religion and LGBT activism have focused on clashing oppositions between conservative Christians and LGBT advocates. The sites for these conflicts are often the abstracted domains of law and policy, and the ideological differences between these dueling parties are often conveyed with geographical metaphors: as if queer activists and religious conservatives hail from wholly distant worlds. Focusing on the material precincts of particular congregations relocates the abstracted sites of debate and challenges the perceived distance among participants.Within this smaller scale, various local studies of LGBT communities offer a counterpoint to the religious versus queer story, telling about a surprising local religious exception to what is otherwise taken for granted as the conservative, anti-LGBT religious norm. James Sears, in an article on the gay man who started up the Chicago Mattachine Society in 1965, notes in passing that a minister agreed to host the meetings in his Park Ridge church and also helped to produce the monthly newsletter. Such an arrangement, Sears surmises, was “a rarity in the pre-Stonewall era.”7 Historian Mark Wild, in a book on liberal Protestants and urban renewal, similarly describe the “unusual” LGBT support of Glide Memorial Church in San Francisco in the 1960s. Similar “rarities” are also mentioned in the queer community histories of Seattle, Salt Lake City, Los Angeles, Kansas City, New York City, Minneapolis, Atlanta, and Philadelphia.8 These surprising exceptions, viewed collectively, form a larger pattern. However, the local, instrumental nature of this religious support for LGBT rights has contributed to its historical obscurity. What are we to make of this enigmatic pattern? This chapter investigates liberal Protestant churches as significant sites in cities’ sexual topographies and, conversely, it looks at the way that religious topographies encountered and encompassed queer urban life. Joining religious and queer attention to urban space helps to piece together the context and history of what might otherwise appear to be a local anomaly: liberal Protestant churches in many urban centers served as meeting places as well as instrumental resources for LGBT movements during their critical 347

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moment of political emergence in the 1960s. Attention to the connections among these urban ministers and their support for emerging LGBT associations brings into focus a network of support for LGBT communities, facilitated by urban congregations and their ministers.

Glide Church and the Tenderloin Glide Memorial United Methodist Church and the associated Glide Urban Center were perhaps the most important sources of support for early homophile activism. In 1963, a young Methodist minister named Ted McIlvenna was invited to direct a young adult program at the newly opened Glide Urban Center, a community organizing foundation that operated alongside Glide Memorial Methodist Church.9 Glide’s location was the Tenderloin district, and McIlvenna was appointed to start an experimental ministry to young adults in this notorious vice district and gay ghetto.35 The job put McIlvenna “right in the middle of the gay question in a hurry,” as one of his colleagues later put it.10 McIlvenna, along with Canon Robert Cromey, whose sermon opened this chapter, were among a generation of young clergy in the 1960s that were lauded as a “new breed” in Christian ministry.The moniker reflected the sense that modern, twentieth-century cities had produced complex new problems for churches, which by necessity demanded a transformation in ministry. Certainly these changes compelled churches to recognize that the past could not be their guide: at the heart of the so-called “urban problem” was a demographic reckoning for downtown churches that were once home to white, middle-class congregations. The grown children of those former members had joined the post-World War II “white flight” to the suburbs.The new neighborhood residents of African Americans, Latinos, white hippies, artists, and homosexuals had little interest in the staid white Protestant liturgies preserved in those churches’ Sunday services.11 This mix of neighborhood conditions—this perceived “urban crisis”—also convinced this cohort of urban ministers that that status quo ministry was not an option.They approached the demographic challenge of emptying pews as a problem connected to broader social and political developments in American cities. Those churches, along with the neighborhoods around them, were being slowly drained of resources as post-war urban development catered to the rising economy of the city periphery at the expense of the city center. A generation of leftleaning clergy cast their lot with urban churches as a sign of God’s preferential option for the poor and disenfranchised over the “comfortable pews” of suburban churches.Their mission, to quote Harvey Cox’s encapsulation of these trends in The Secular City (1965), urged Christians to practice an “ascetic disaffiliation” or “holy worldliness” that involved leaving their “palaces” to step into “God’s permanent revolution in history.”12 In developing these revolutionary new ministries, urban ministers traded in Bible dictionaries for Reveille for Radicals, a 1946 manual for grassroots organizing written by Chicago activist Saul Alinsky.13 In a network of emerging urban training centers—foremost among them the Chicago Urban Training Center, founded in 1964—ministers gained skills in grassroots organizing and political advocacy.The rhetoric and strategy taught in these centers challenged the conventions of parish ministry and urged pastors to effectively turn their congregations inside out—to develop experimental programs that focused on the circumstances and needs of communities around the church.Those programs would not offer “handouts” or “charity” but should enable disenfranchised communities to identify and challenge systemic injustice. The concurrent struggles for peace and justice—African American civil rights, migrant workers’ rights, the anti-war movement, housing inequality, integrated public schools, and so on—were not a backdrop to the work of urban ministry but at its very heart. A cohort of clergy activists 348

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worked to develop ministries that responded to a Christian imperative to work for justice. For many of them, the method of ministry was activism.14 McIlvenna recounted the incident that made him realize that he needed to address homosexuality as a social justice issue. Hal Call, president of the San Francisco Mattachine Society, a secretive local association for gay men, requested that the minister accompany him to a local hotel.The two men they met there had been badly beaten in an anti-gay attack. Mcllvenna recalled, I called the local hospital and it wouldn’t take them; they were homosexuals. I called the police but couldn’t get them because they were the ones who did the kicking! When the hotel found out about it, they kicked them out.15 What McIlvenna came to understand from that meeting reconfigured for him what it meant to do “outreach” in the Tenderloin.This would not be a ministry that sought to attract young adults to existing religious services; this would be an activist ministry that worked to redress the ways that gay and transgender people were targeted and harassed without legal recourse, often at the hands of the police. In developing this social justice strategy, McIlvenna partnered with the leaders of San Francisco’s homophile organizations, which at the time numbered at six: the Mattachine Society and the Daughters of Bilitis were the city’s oldest homophile groups, respectively serving gay men and lesbians. The early 1960s saw the founding of a number of new groups that more directly addressed local politics.The League for Civil Education was formed in 1961 to promote an openly gay candidate, José Sarria, in the election for city supervisor. When that failed, the organization continued to publish a local gay newspaper.The Tavern Guild formed in 1962 as a mutual protection society that helped insulate bartenders, bar owners, and patrons from harassment by the police and the Alcoholic Beverage Control Board. In May 1964, the Society for Individual Rights formed as the most politically active of the groups up to that point. It met initially in Glide Church and quickly attracted a membership of around 300 people, which also made it the largest homophile organization to date.16 In the spring of 1964, McIlvenna invited representatives from all of the existing organizations to participate in a consultation that would gather ministers and homophile leaders for an extended dialogue.The aim of this event was to expand McIlvenna’s collaborative relationship with these homophile organizations to include other San Francisco clergy and national Protestant denominational leaders. They planned a four-day Consultation on the Church and the Homosexual, held May 31 through June 2, which would initiate a dialogue among participants—15 clergy and 15 homophile representatives—about “the relationship between the church and the homosexual.”17 Clergy participants included about a half-dozen urban ministers from San Francisco, several national Methodist leaders, a staff person from the National Council of Churches, and an urban ministry specialist from the Chicago Urban Training Center.18 The record of this interpersonal experiment was later published in a short booklet circulated by Glide Urban Center that served as an exemplary how-to model for future clergy–homosexual consultations.19 The subtext for this little book—in the style of a queer Pilgrim’s Progress—was the personal transformation of the presumably straight clergy as they encountered, first-hand, San Francisco’s homosexual ghetto. Homophile representatives guided them on a stereotype-shattering tour of the city’s queer nightlife.20 At the same time, organizers were also careful to show the participating clergy that this bar scene was not the whole of homosexuals’ social life. Clergy joined a homophile picnic the next day for lunch, and were subsequently shuttled out to a retreat center in rural Marin County, where they participated in a series of encounter sessions with homophile 349

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participants.These discussions were designed to break down false barriers and build honest relations between the two groups: clergy and homosexuals. According to all reports, these strategies—for challenging stereotypes and building new honest relationships—worked. The retreat began with awkward conversations around the coffeepot—with participants “struggling to use words with only one meaning”—but it settled by the last day into an informal dynamic that one minister described as a “religious gay bar.”21 Daughters of Bilitis member Del Martin described the outcome of this gathering as an exciting “new rapport” between clergy and homosexuals.22 This rapport, according Martin, also sparked a new agenda for clergy–homophile cooperation.A number of the clergy had pledged to organize similar consultations in other cities, to form a committee on homosexuality within the National Council of Churches, and to publish sympathetic articles on homosexuality in Christian publications.23 In one fell swoop, the clergy allies of the homophile movement had multiplied to include a list of impressive names in ecumenical Protestant justice work.

The Council on Religion and the Homosexual Following the retreat, the San Francisco clergy and homophile representatives created a new organization called the Council on Religion and the Homosexual. The organization’s stated goals were modestly aimed at educating church leaders about homosexuality through the vehicle of dialogue between clergy and homophile participants.24 The actual impact of the CRH, however, went far beyond these reformist goals.Within the next two years, the CRH went on to take a prominent role in San Francisco queer communities’ struggle against police harassment and legal injustice.The most important of the CRH’s actions took place in early January 1965, when participating CRH clergy rallied to challenge a police raid on a New Year’s Day drag ball. In the immediate aftermath of the raid, eight clergy—including Robert Cromey and Ted McIlvenna—called a press conference that confronted the San Francisco Police Department for their harassment and targeting of queer San Franciscans. The media attention to these clergy spokespersons helped to initiate a set of new laws and police reforms in San Francisco.The press attention—which circulated through both the alternative networks of homophile newsletters and through national newspapers—also highlighted the work of the San Francisco CRH as a model for would-be homophile and clergy activists in other cities.25 San Francisco historian Paul Gabriel argues that the CRH ministers provided a “cloak of the cloth” to the cause of gay and trans rights—meaning that clergy, as authoritative spokespersons, brought respectability and credibility to these stigmatized groups’ unheeded efforts to challenge police repression and other forms of injustice.26 The ministers strategically used moral privilege to help homophile leaders gain a platform to voice their concerns and to access concrete channels for political reform. Ministers of Glide Church similarly theorized this role using a different term: they spoke of their involvement as “enablers.”27 This role included not only providing a kind of moral cover, but also supplying instrumental resources such as funding, meeting and office space, access to communication and publishing resources, and organizing support for direct action protests. During the next few years, Glide Urban Center came to serve as a center for organizing and activism.Within San Francisco, Glide was an influential site for activism that might have otherwise been marginalized from the homophile organizations. Cecil Williams, an African American minister previously involved in the black freedom struggle in Kansas City, was appointed to Glide Church in 1964.Williams was involved in organizing Citizen Alert, a call-in center that responded to complaints of police abuse modeled on a similar program in Kansas City. Largely because of his leadership, the San Francisco initiative successfully recruited support from pas350

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tors of black churches in the city who were also concerned with problems of police brutality.28 Historian Susan Stryker’s work on transgender history recounts the significant role of Glide clergy in supporting transgender organizing and activism in San Francisco. Glide was a meeting place for Vanguard, a support group for street youth that included gay hustlers and transgender youth. It also hosted the meetings of Conversion Our Goal, a transsexual support group that started in 1967.29 Clergy and congregational support thus encompassed various roles—from providing a symbolic “cloak of the cloth” to supplying instrumental support that enabled diverse activist and organizing efforts. The CRH experiment in San Francisco also supplied a model for similar experiments in other cities, where gay men and lesbians partnered with progressive urban ministers to develop new organizations in their own city. Glide Urban Center provided formal training aimed at supporting these kinds of local experiments, and they helped to push other urban religious training programs and ecumenical initiatives to similarly address the issue of homosexual and transgender disenfranchisement. Thus, the channels for an emerging movement ran through Protestant urban ministries and ecumenical social justice networks as well as through homophile organizations.These connections provided behind-the-scenes material support as local homophile organizations began developing formal networks to coordinate as a national movement in the mid-to-late 1960s.

From the Tenderloin to a national movement Gay and lesbian organizations in other parts of the county were amazed and captivated by these developments in San Francisco. Many of them sought to develop similar partner organizations with clergy. The San Francisco CRH thus served as a model for homophile organizations in other cities, which sought to build similar relationships of support with local progressive clergy. The CRH in San Francisco also worked to encourage similar clergy–homophile partnerships in other cities. In September 1965, San Francisco participants with the CRH met with attendees of the East Coast Homophile Organizations (ECHO), the umbrella organization for local gay and lesbian societies, to offer guidance about forming partnerships with clergy. Shortly after this meeting, one of the clergy participants reported that homophile groups in Washington, Philadelphia, and New York already had the tentative beginnings of formal clergy–homophile partnerships.The Mattachine Society of Washington stepped up to the plate first and had a formally established Washington-area Council on Religion and the Homosexual by May 1965.30 In Philadelphia, homophile groups met with the Philadelphia Council of Churches.31 The Mattachine Society of New York had an active Religious Affairs Committee that worked closely with sympathetic ministers.32 Los Angeles’s homophile organizers were also quickly prodded into action by their counterparts in San Francisco. Board members from the San Francisco CRH flew down for a meeting with Los Angeles-area clergy and homophile representatives on June 1, 1965.The meeting led to the founding of the Southern California Council on Religion and the Homophile (SCCRC). Jim Kepner, a founding editor of ONE, helped to organize this new group, and the leadership also included two local Methodist ministers, Alex Smith and Ken Wahrenbrock, and United Church of Christ (UCC) minister Clarence Colwell, who had recently moved to LA from San Francisco for a church appointment. A small but dedicated number of clergy and homophile leaders continued to meet regularly for study and discussion.When LA police raided the Black Cat, an area gay bar, on New Year’s Eve 1967, the SCCRH responded by holding informational meetings that met at clergy members’ churches. However, it was the not the SCCRH but an even newer organization called Personal Rights in Defense and Education (PRIDE) that took 351

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the helm in pushing for a more activist politics among LA gay communities—an effort joined, a year later, by yet another organization formed in the aftermath of a bar raid, the Metropolitan Community Church.The SCCRH continued to meet into the mid-1970s.33 Letters to the San Francisco CRH told of additional consultations and councils organized in Denver, Chicago, Dallas, Kansas City, Boston, Honolulu, and Ottawa, Ontario.34 The letters about the new councils on religion arrived as the homophile movement expanded rapidly; between 1965 and 1968, the number of local organizations devoted to gay and lesbian rights more than doubled. Some of these were new activist organizations, like PRIDE, in cities that had long been home to homophile associations. Many, however, were entirely new groups located outside the larger gay urban centers on the East Coast and in California. In smaller cities in the South, the Midwest, and the Pacific Northwest, new gay and lesbian organizations were on the rise.35 For many of these groups, the critical connection to start them came through urban ministry programs. At the center of the fledging organizing efforts were urban ministers working on outreach in “homosexual ghettos.”The search for resources for this kind of ministry inevitably drew those ministers to the Glide Urban Center. In Kansas City, Methodist ministers Paul Jones and Vann Anderson were both involved with the Young Adult Project.They visited Glide Urban Center, and many of their programs replicated practices used by the ministers in San Francisco.They also started a night ministry, which meant putting on the clerical collar and going into bars and nightclubs to simply be available to patrons who wanted to talk. On one night, Jones recalled, a patron brought him to the Arabian Nights, a hidden bar that catered to gays and lesbians.“It was totally strange to me,” he recalled, but he stayed and did what he usually did—simply listen to what people had to tell him about their experiences and feelings about religion. Out of these encounters, Jones and Anderson agreed to help a group of gays and lesbians organize the Phoenix Society for Individual Rights in 1966. The group met initially at Westport Methodist Church and then moved to a rented house. The Phoenix Society, with the support of Jones and Anderson, developed programing to educate area clergy, faculty, and students at the Methodist-affiliated Saint Paul Theological Seminary.36 There are similar accounts of gay and lesbian groups formed with the support of urban ministers in nearly a dozen other small cities. In Dallas, Methodist minister Doug McLean, who was also connected to the Young Adult Project, became interested in helping support homophile organizing after attending a program at Glide Urban Center. He and a gay man named Phil Johnson gathered contacts—four additional gay men and three ministers—to form a group they called the Circle of Friends, which met at a house owned by one of the minister’s churches.37 In Seattle, a Japanese American United Church of Christ (UCC) minister named Mineo Katagiri, who was active in an urban street ministry, had similar kinds of encounters with Seattle’s queer communities in his ministry. Katagiri’s office in St. Mark’s Cathedral was the meeting place for Seattle’s first homophile organization, which took the name the Dorian Society.38 In Portland, Oregon, Harper Richardson arrived in 1966 to Centenary-Wilbur United Methodist Church with programming ideas for young adult ministry gleaned from attending a training session at Glide. Richardson started a coffeehouse and welcomed community action groups, including those of gays and lesbians. Both the church and an ecumenically supported house near Portland State University called Koinonia House served as hubs for gay and lesbian organizing in the late 1960s.39 In Hartford, Connecticut, Episcopal minister Clinton Jones had already begun holding dialogue sessions about homosexuality with the city’s council of churches. Jones first established a counseling ministry for homosexuals, and he then began to support the collective organizing efforts by his clients. His church provided meeting space in 1968 for the Kalos Society, Hartford’s first homophile organization.40 Other sources reported on new gay and les352

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bian groups founded through the support of liberal ministers in Lincoln-Omaha, Nebraska; St. Louis, Missouri; and New York City—where both the Gay Liberation Front and the Gay Activist Alliance met in church spaces.41 These clergy saw these relations of material support as central to the mission of their churches. Cecil Williams, as a newly appointed senior pastor of Glide Memorial Methodist Church, delivered a sermon in 1968 that spoke of the church’s unique “word” on homosexuality and encouraged congregants to share that gospel. “We will be silent no longer. We know that homosexuals are not sick, criminal, or sinful,”Williams argued. “We must give the word to the professional community—the church must take the lead in showing a way to understanding the homophile world.”42 Paul Jones’s comments about his ministry in Kansas City similarly spoke of the church’s mission to homosexuals. Recognizing and supporting relationships were only the beginning; he envisioned increasing civil rights, a “homosexual social center,” communication and outreach, counseling, and support for homosexual teenagers.“At the foundation of all this should be the church,” he argued, which can “provide the moral legitimacy and confirmation without which self-acceptance is so tentative.”43 The clergy envisioned ministries that provided material and ideological support for the homophile struggle, where homosexuals could live into the truth that gay was good. This history of urban ministers and homosexual ghettos sparked a set of responses to homosexual and transgender people that was, at first, emphatically local and congregational. However, these local movements of acceptance soon sparked broader denominational debate and controversy. In almost every denomination, the debates that marked the erstwhile beginning of discussion over LGBT inclusion were less a beginning that a moment at which broader memberships reacted against local movements of pro-LGBT inclusion.

Opening denominational debate These clergy–homophile partnerships reshaped ministers’ theological and biblical understandings of sexuality. The formal, published accounts of that rethinking began to appear in print in the late 1960s, and they immediately sparked controversy within the respective denominations.44 Robert Cromey, writing for the Episcopal journal Living Church in 1967, maintained that Christians should “lead the way in insisting that homosexuals be given their rights as citizens and be treated as human beings.”45 Later that same year, the Christian Century and Christianity and Crisis also published articles supportive of homosexual rights, and Religion and Health, a pastoral counseling journal, printed a speech about the homophile movement that had originally been delivered to ONE, Inc. in Los Angeles. In December of 1967, Social Action and Social Progress, both denomination-based social justice journals, published companion issues addressing homosexuality. Collectively, these publications marked an important shift in progressive Protestant discussions of religion and law, and the voices at the fore were clergy allies of the homophile movement.Taken together, these publications represented a profound shift in what liberal Protestants were willing to write and publish about homosexuality.They made an argument for Christians’ moral obligation both to include homosexuals in their fellowships and to defend their rights as citizens. Even more than their ideas, the actions of these clergy proved to be especially controversial. Quite a few of these clergy allies acted on their belief that Christian marriage could include gay and lesbian couples. Kansas City minister Paul Jones, who worked with the homophile Phoenix Society, published a defense of what he adamantly called “homosexual marriage,” an issue that first exploded into controversy as an editorial in Kansas City’s local ecumenical Christian newspaper, and was published in revised form in 1970 in Pastoral Psychology. Jones put the argument 353

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in italics: “profound relation between two members of the same sex is not only morally permissible but is to be sought, encouraged, supported and enabled with all the powers at our command.”46 Jones presented same-sex marriages as a vital conduit of human and divine grace, even a sacrament.A number of other Protestant clergy allies of the homophile movement offered similar arguments for the ethical good of same-sex relationships.47 These clergy also performed rituals of blessing over same-sex couples.The terms to describe these ceremonies varied. Paul Jones, of course, insistently called them “marriages,” and he and Vann Anderson officiated over the marriages of same-sex couples in Kansas City. In San Francisco, the ministers at Glide called them “ceremonies of friendship.” Lloyd Wake, a Japanese American pastor appointed an associate minister at Glide Church in 1967, recalled that he and other pastors at Glide officiated at “covenant of friendship” ceremonies between same-sex couples in the late 1960s. One of the ceremonies between two men at which Wake officiated opened up a national scandal in the Methodist Church when journalists reported on it in 1971.48

Conclusion Over the course of the next decade, between 1973 and early 1975, gay activists within mainline Protestant churches began to formally push for denominational-wide reform.These organizers founded a series of reform organization across the mainline Protestant denominations:the United Church of Christ Gay Caucus (1973); Gay Presbyterian Caucus (1974); Lutherans Concerned for Gay People (1974); Integrity Gay Episcopal Caucus (1974); Gay United Methodists (1975); American Baptist Gay Caucus (1974).49 These “gay caucuses,” as they were called, were formed in almost every case as a support group for a church member, minister, or ordination candidate who faced public backlash after coming out as gay or lesbian. And in every case, gay caucuses garnered support from a small group of denominational sympathizers while also facing a wave of institutional resistance from the conservative majorities in their denominations. Mainline denominations create policy through mechanisms of democratic representation, and this process of majority vote virtually guaranteed formal church policies that expressed hostility toward LGBT members of the denomination. In the decades that followed, the debates over these policies remained a perennial feature of mainline Protestant institutions. Beneath the fractious surface of these debates, however, the movements for LGBT inclusion within mainline denominations continued to be anchored in local congregations. These “welcoming congregations” could be found within LGBT city guides, where religious organizations were listed alongside gay-owned businesses and other supportive services.The scholars investigating homosexuality debates within church have consistently suggested that locations of proximity to LGBT-concentrated neighborhoods, perhaps unsurprisingly, have been a consistent influence on churches’ stances within the denominational debates.These congregations, as sociologist Nancy Ammerman notes, made the choice to “open their doors” to the recognizable presence of LGBT persons in their neighborhoods.50 The roots of this congregation-based movement of support for LGBT people extend back earlier than is often realized.This re-situated history upturns the conventional periodization of mainline Protestant denominations’ debates over homosexuality, which are often charted from origin points in the mid-1970s. This mid-1970s origin point positions the gay caucuses and subsequent debates as a second-hand response to secular LGBT movement developments, an after-effect, it would seem, of the 1969 Stonewall Riots as a catalyst for LGBT activism. This timeline, however, is too simplistic. Professional histories of LGBT activism emphatically show that Stonewall was not a beginning, but rather an important shift within identity-based political activism that germinated two decades prior, in the late 1940s and 1950s, and began to reach 354

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public visibility in the 1960s.The involvement of Protestant churches and clergy in this earlier history of movement activism formatively shaped both the activism that erupted after Stonewall and the movements of reform within Protestant denominations. To effectively see this early influence as a form of progressive religious involvement in LGBT organizing requires a turning away from the pyrotechnics of national debates to focus on the less spectacular, but profoundly important, dynamic of material relationships and local geographies.

Notes This chapter is revised and updated from Heather R.White, “Churchmen and Homophiles.” In Heather R. White, ed., Reforming Sodom: Protestants and the Rise of Gay Rights (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2015), pp. 71–107. 1 John D’Emilio, Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities:The Making of a Homosexual Minority in the United States, 1940–1970 (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 1983), p. 13. 2 Joe Allison, “Treat Homosexuals as Human Beings.” San Francisco News Call Bulletin, September 13, 1963. 3 Susan Stryker, Transgender History (Berkeley: Seal Press, 2008), pp. 66–67; Nan Alamilla Boyd, Wide Open Town:A History of Queer San Francisco to 1965 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003), pp. 113–14. 4 “Homosexuality in America,” Life, June 26, 1964, p. 66; Boyd, Wide-Open Town, 202. 5 James G. Manz, “Pastoral Counseling in the Inner City.” Springfielder 27, No. 1 (March 1, 1963): p. 30; see also Alfred A. Gross, “The Homosexual in Society:The Minister Has a Primary Obligation to Relieve Guilt Feelings and Restore the Homosexual’s Self-Respect.” Pastoral Psychology 1, No. 3 (1950): pp. 44–45. 6 Robert Cromey, Essays Irreverent (iUniverse, 2012), pp. 25–28. 7 James Thomas Sears, “Bob Basker (1918–2001): Selling the Movement.” In Vern L. Bullough, ed., Before Stonewall:Activists for Gay and Lesbian Rights in Historical Context (Psychology Press, 2002), p. 198. 8 These studies include Gary Atkins, Gay Seattle: Stories of Exile and Belonging (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2003); George Chauncey, Gay New York: Gender, Urban Culture, and the Makings of the Gay Male World, 1890–1940 (New York: Basic Books, 1994); Marc Stein, City of Sisterly and Brotherly Loves: Lesbian and Gay Philadelphia, 1945–1972 (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2000); Boyd Wide-Open Town; Lillian Faderman and Stuart Timmons, Gay L.A.: A History of Sexual Outlaws, Power Politics, and Lipstick Lesbians (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2009); David W. Jackson, Changing Times: Almanac and Digest of Kansas City’s Gay and Lesbian History (Greenwood:The Orderly Pack Rat, 2011); Douglas Winkler, Lavender Sons of Zion:A History of Gay Men in Salt Lake City, 1950– 1979 (Ann Arbor: ProQuest, LLC, 2011); Stewart Van Cleve, Land of 10,000 Loves a History of Queer Minnesota (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2012);Wesley Chenault, Stacy Braukman, and Atlanta History Center, Gay and Lesbian Atlanta (Charleston:Arcadia Publishing, 2008). 9 Lewis Durham, Glide Foundation from 1962 through 1967 (San Francisco: Glide Foundation, 1968) 10 Lewis Durham, interview by Paul Gabriel, July 18, 1998. Transcript, Shedding a Straight Jacket Collection, GLBT Historical Society, pp. 6–8. 11 Cromey, Essays Irreverent, pp. 25–28. 12 Harvey Cox, The Secular City: Secularization and Urbanization in Theological Perspective (New York: Macmillan, 1966), pp. 278–9. 13 Saul David Alinsky, Reveille for Radicals (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 1946) 14 See White, Reforming Sodom, pp. 83–84; For histories of Christian urban ministries, see Clifford J. Green, Churches, Cities, and Human Community: Urban Ministry in the United States, 1945–1985 (Grand Rapids: W.B. Eerdmans, 1996); Richard Henry Luecke, “Protestant Clergy: New Forms of Ministry, New Forms of Training.” The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 387, No. 1 (January 1, 1970): pp. 86–95; Mark Wild, Renewal: Liberal Protestants and the American City After World War II (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 2019). 15 James Thomas Sears, Behind the Mask of the Mattachine:The Hal Call Chronicles and the Early Movement for Homosexual Emancipation (New York: Harrington Park Press, Psychology Press, 2006), pp. 288–9. 16 Boyd, Wide Open Town, pp. 221–31 17 Kuhn, The Church and the Homosexual, p. 32.

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Heather R. White 18 Clergy participating in the Consultation were: William Black, an Lutheran urban specialist in San Francisco; Orville Luster, the director of the Youth For Service, a project of the American Friends Service Committee was the only African American at the consultation; Jan Marinessen, Penal Affairs Secretary with the American Friends Service Committee in San Francisco; Walter Press, a United Church of Christ minister from San Francisco; Robert Cromey, special assistant to the Episcopal Bishop of California; Keith Wright, UCC minister working with the National Council of Churches; C. Kilmer Myers, Episcopal clergy from the Chicago Urban Training Center; Dennis Nyberg, Methodist minister from Minneapolis; Roger Burgess and Dale White, staff at the Methodist Board of Christian Social Concerns in Washington DC; Charles Mowry and B.J. Stiles, staff at the Methodist Board of Education in Nashville,TN;Ted McIlvenna, Donald Kuhn, Lewis Durham, and John Moore were ministers at Glide Urban Center. Sources: Kuhn, The Church and the Homosexual; Peter Crysdale,“Dealing with What’s Wrong in Our Society:A Visit with Jan Marinessen” FCL Newsletter January, 2000. (December 26, 2019); Demian Bulwa, “Orville B. Luster—Social Worker, Friend to S.F.’s Youth.” SFGate, July 7, 2005. (December 26, 2019); C. Dale White, phone interview by the author, April 30, 2006. Referring to Jan Marinessen and Orville Luster as “clergy” is not entirely accurate (the Religious Society of Friends does not have a professional clergy), but this was the designation used by the Consultation. 19 Kuhn, The Church and the Homosexual, p. 32. 20 Durham, interview; Kuhn, The Church and the Homosexual, p. 2. 21 Kuhn, The Church and the Homosexual, pp. 3, 31. 22 Del Martin, “The Church and the Homosexual: A New Rapport,” The Ladder 8, No. 12 (September 1964): pp. 9–13 23 Martin,“The Church and the Homosexual:A New Rapport,” p. 9 24 Kuhn, The Church and the Homosexual, 32; Richard Hallgren, “S.F. Clergyman’s View of the Homosexuals,” San Francisco Chronicle, December 7, 1964, p. 1; p. 22; “Clergy Shatter Another Taboo,” Christian Century 81, No. 52 (December 23, 1964): p. 1581. 25 White, Reforming Sodom, p. 89. 26 Gabriel uses this phrase in his oral history interviews with CRH ministers. See “Exhibit:The Council on Religion and the Homosexual,” LGBT Religion Archive Network (May 4, 2014). 27 Durham, Glide Foundation from 1962 through 1967. 28 Roxanna Beryl Thayer Sweet,“Political and Social Action in Homophile Organizations” (Ph.D. Diss., University of California, Berkeley, 1968) pp. 120; pp. 158–9; pp. 171–2; pp. 212–4; 29 See Stryker, Transgender History, pp. 69–72. 30 “Cross-Currents,” Ladder 9, No. 12 (September 1965), pp. 13–14 31 Report by Neale Secor to San Francisco Council of Religion and the Homosexual.“Washington D.C. CRH” (October 31, 1965) Lyon/Martin file, pp. 17–16, GLBT Historical Society, p.1; See also Kimball H. Jones, Toward a Christian Understanding of the Homosexual (New York Association Press, 1966), pp. 126–8. 32 “Scanning the Conference,” Ladder 10, No. 4 (January 1966): pp. 8–10. 33 Records for the Southern California Council on Religion and the Homophile, ONE National Gay and Lesbian Archives; See also Faderman and Timmons, Gay L.A., pp. 154–65. 34 “General Report on the First Year Activities of the CRH,” n.d., Lucas Papers, GLBT Historical Society, file 9:10, LGBTHS, p. 2. 35 Foster Gunnison, “The Homophile Movement in American.” In Ralph W.Weltge, ed., The Same Sex: An Appraisal of Homosexuality (Philadelphia: Pilgrim Press, 1969), p. 119. Gunnison counts 17 organizations in 1965 and almost 40 by the end of 1968. 36 Interview with Paul Jones by the author, June 20, 2013; Jones,W. Paul.“Homosexuality and Marriage: Exploring on the Theological Edge.” Pastoral Psychology 21, No. 10 (1970): pp. 29–37; On the history of the Phoenix Society, see D’Emilio, Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities, p. 200; Jackson, Changing Times; Records for the Phoenix Society are also located at “Phoenix Society for Individual Freedom,” (December 26, 2019). Louis Crompton. “North American Conference of Homophile Organizations Report of the Religious Committee.” (December 1969) One Records, Box: Religion, file: Southern California Council on Religion and the Homophile ONE National Gay and Lesbian Archives.

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The “homosexual ghetto” in the 1960s 37 J.Todd Moye,“Cathedral of Hope: A History of Progressive Christianity, Civil Rights, and Gay Social Activism in Dallas,Texas, 1965–1992.” (Master’s Thesis, University of North Texas, 2009), pp. 21–14. 38 Atkins, Gay Seattle, 97–98, 119. 39 David Grant Kohl, A Curious and Peculiar People: A History of the Metropolitan Community Church of Portland, Oregon and the Sexual Minority Communities of Northwest Oregon (Portland: Spirit Press, 2006), pp. 41–45. 40 Clinton R. Jones, “The Pastoral Counselor and the Male Homosexual.” (Master’s Thesis, New York Theological Seminary, 1969), pp. 166–8. 41 Louis Crompton.“North American Conference of Homophile Organizations Report of the Religious Committee,” (December 1969). One Records, Box: Religion, file: Southern California Council on Religion and the Homophile, ONE National Gay and Lesbian Archives; “Church of the Holy Apostles” NYC LGBT Historic Sites Project (December 26, 2019). 42 Cecil Williams, “A New Word and World for the Homosexual” (October 27, 1968), William Billings Papers, San Francisco Public Library,“Gay Scrapbook.” 43 Jones,“Homosexuality and Marriage,” p. 37. 44 Robert Cromey,“Ministry to the Homosexual,” The Living Church January 8, 1967, pp. 18–19; Paul W. Jones, “Homosexuality and Marriage: Exploring on the Theological Edge.” Pastoral Psychology 21:10 (1970): pp. 35–37; Robert L. Treese, Homosexuality: A Contemporary View of the Biblical Perspective (San Francisco: Glide Urban Center, 1966); “Robert Treese—Obituary—Bostonia Fall 2008.” 15 July 2013. 45 Robert Cromey,“Ministry to the Homosexual,” The Living Church January 8, 1967, pp. 18–19. 46 Jones,“Homosexuality and Marriage,” pp. 35–37 47 Clinton R. Jones, “The Pastoral Counselor and the Male Homosexual.” Master’s Thesis, New York Theological Seminary, 1969; Treese, Homosexuality: A Contemporary View of the Biblical Perspective; Normon W. Pittenger, Time for Consent. Second Revised and Enlarged Edn (London: S.C.M. Press, 1970). 48 Author interview with Lloyd Wake, August 25, 2005; Ron Moskowitz, “Two Men Take Vows: A Covenant of Friendship,” San Francisco Chronicle March 22, 1971. Wake remembers that there were same-sex ceremonies in the late 1960s. 49 See “Contact Persons in Seminaries” (1974); Birchard Papers 3:2, FLHL. Outside the mainline, gay caucuses formed in the Unitarian-Universalist Church in 1970 and in the Society of Friends in 1971. Dignity (Roman Catholic) began in 1969. Sally Miller Gearhart and William Reagan Johnson, “The Gay Movement in the Church” in Sally Miller Gearhart and William Reagan Johnson, eds, Loving Women/Loving Men; Gay Liberation and the Church (San Francisco: Glide Publications, 1974). 50 Nancy Ammerman, Congregation and Community. Rutgers University Press, 1997, p. 196

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25 NEWCOMERS, RESIDENTS, AND THE DYNAMICS OF CONFLICT Church, immigration, and the development of the city in Sweden Niclas Blåder1

In the 2019 European Parliament election, 40 percent of the Swedish voters considered immigration one of the most important issues at hand.2 In the last general election in 2018, Sverigedemokraterna (Sweden Democrats), a right-wing party whose main political agenda is to reduce immigration, received 17.6 percent of the votes, making them the third biggest party in the parliament.3 Messages concerning the idea that Sweden has been “invaded” by immigrants, and that Stockholm has developed into a segregated city with areas where not even the police dare to go, are being spread on social media and elsewhere.4 In short: it is not what it used to be. But contrasting stories are also told, showing how immigrants have also contributed positively to Swedish culture and the country’s prosperous economy. However, currently it seems that the first story is gaining momentum. At this stage, practically all the major political parties seem to base their immigration politics on that story.5 Just as in many other countries, there is an ongoing debate concerning immigration in Sweden. Over the last few years this has been gravely highlighted. There are many reasons for this, but one major factor is the situation in 2015 when refugees from Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan came to Sweden in large numbers. What happened? What has happened since then? How did the religious institutions engage in the situation, and how has the city been impacted by what happened? This article reflects on these questions in relation to the past and present situation in Sweden. It focuses on the situation in the capital of Sweden: Stockholm.And it focuses on the main religious actor in Sweden: the Church of Sweden. Part of the material consists of interviews.6 The thesis of the article is that, in practice, not much happened in 2015 that has had lasting consequences for Stockholm. However, what did happen was that civil society in a new and active way started to take part.7 Moreover the “big story,” or the mental figure (a mental figure is, according to the sociologist Johan Asplund, a fundamental “story” that forms all our thoughts and actions, often subconsciously)8 changed from considering the Swedish immigration-friendly position as something good into considering it as being naïve and easy to exploit, thereby weakening the idea of a “we,” which will probably affect the feeling of unity in Stockholm and other

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cities in the long run.This is a reframing of the dominant narrative.The cultural value of hospitality is being reframed from strength to weakness.

Immigration in Sweden and Stockholm—A background For centuries Sweden was a rather closed country. In 1930, approximately 1 percent of the population was born abroad.9 Until then, more people emigrated from Sweden than immigrated into Sweden.10 Since then, migration has grown rapidly. In 2017, 18.5 percent of the Swedish population were foreign-born, and if one adds persons born in Sweden but with both parents foreign-born, the number rises to 24 percent. Until the 1960s the absolute majority of the immigrants in Sweden had come from other Nordic countries. But now immigrants from the Mediterranean parts of Europe—Yugoslavia, Italy, Greece, and a bit later, Turkey—started to arrive in Sweden, mainly due to the need for a larger workforce because of the booming Swedish economy.11 From then on, immigration became regulated. It meant that, in order for one to be allowed to immigrate into Sweden, a job offer and a place to stay were required. But as well as those coming to Sweden for planned work, another two groups were landing, too: refugees and relatives of immigrants already living in Sweden. During the 1980s and 1990s, the majority of those immigrating to Sweden were refugees seeking shelter from war and terror in Lebanon, Somalia, Bosnia, South America, and many other places, or else they were economic refugees mainly looking for a better place to live.12 At the end of the 1990s, it became much more difficult to immigrate to Sweden unless one could claim the rights of a refugee.A few years later, in 2001, Sweden joined the Schengen Zone of European countries, allowing free movement across its borders for European Union (EU) citizens, which opened up the possibility for many of them to come and work in Sweden.At the same time, the outer borders of the EU became much harder to pass through.13 If the description above relates to Sweden in general, how then has the situation developed in Stockholm? Stockholm, as the capital, is by far the biggest city in Sweden, with almost one million citizens. If one adds the 25 surrounding municipalities that constitute the metropolitan area, that total population amount ends up being closer to 2,300,000. Stockholm is a fastgrowing city as people move there from other parts of the country, and also because of immigration. It is also a rather segregated city, both economically as well as ethnically, and that trend is only gaining momentum.14 Today there are parts of Stockholm where the population consists almost completely of immigrants (Informant 2, I2).This is, for example, noticed in the popular nickname of one of the subway lines as The Orient Express. Stockholm has the largest amount of immigrants in Sweden, comprising almost 33 percent of the population if one counts immigrants as well as persons whose parents are both foreign-born. The situation of immigrants also differs from the situation of native Swedes in many aspects. Looking at the metropolitan area of Stockholm, 63 percent of those born outside the European Union (EU)/European Free Trade Association (EFTA) had employment, compared to the 66.9 percent of persons born within the EU/EFTA and the 84.3 percent of those born in Sweden.15 A study also shows that the difference in the expected life-span between highly educated people in the affluent area of Danderyd and a low-skilled person in the poor area of Vårby gård, with its high level of immigrants, is 18 years.16 It is a fact that many immigrants have few or no native Swedish friends and never visit the home of a native Swede. They are neither studying at universities with the same frequency as native Swedes nor are they engaged in politics or the civil society at the same rate.17

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Today, Stockholm is a multicultural city with all the possibilities and obstacles that brings. Normally life goes on without any larger disruptions or conflicts between people or groups, but there have also been a few cases of larger conflicts or riots. One of these tense situations started in a poor and segregated part of Stockholm called Husby in 2013, where at least 100 cars were set on fire by young local residents during a little less than a week’s time. Lately the police has also warned that some areas—mostly in Stockholm, but also in other parts of the country—are to be considered at risk of losing contact with the rest of society.18 It is also a fact that gang-related crime—at least some forms of it—is growing in bigger cities like Stockholm, Gothenburg, and Malmö.19 An informant from Stockholm who has lived in the city all her life shared her experiences of her home neighborhood. Now, she says, something is happening.Trust among the people is not as easy to come by as it once was, and she says that society seems to be a harder one today as compared to a few years ago (I2). But, at the same time, while these stories of problems exist, stories about the opposite are frequent too.This means that Sweden, like many other countries that have received immigrants, cannot tell a story that is just black and white.20

The ideological view of, and debate about, immigration in Sweden until 2015 How then has this transformation from a rather ethnically homogeneous society into a multicultural one happened and been debated? Until the 1960s the goal of immigration was assimilation. Social commentator Mauricio Rojas interprets this view in the following way: when you live in Sweden you should act like a Swede and adopt the Swedish cultural heritage. He goes on to say that this policy changed with a government document called “Immigrants and minorities” from 1974, which stipulates that migration politics should strive for equality between native Swedes and immigrants. Immigrants should have the choice of whether to adopt the Swedish culture or to maintain and develop their own culture.The constitution of 1976 reads: “Ethnic, linguistic and religious minorities’ possibilities to uphold and develop one’s own cultural and social life should be promoted.”21 But, according to Rojas, this extremely open position was probably never meant to be understood in a literal sense. Some cultural diversities were to be understood as good and functional, while others were not.The country was willing to welcome what it found good, but not the rest.22 Perhaps Mauricio Rojas is right when he writes in his book Sveriges oälskade barn (The Unloved Children of Sweden) about “the children of Utopia.”23 When he looks at Sweden he sees huge alienation among large immigrant groups and their children. Many have problems identifying with their new home country, and often that new home has problems identifying with them. He calls those children “the children of Utopia” because they long for a country that is not yet there for them, a country that sees them in their own right, and gives them hope in their future.24 Sweden has long been understood as a society with a high level of social capital.This is often measured by the level of social trust and by the engagement level of individuals in society. Both score high in Sweden. Engagement in different parts of the civil society—when looking at the whole country—is high, and so is the level of trust.The level of trust is high both horizontally (between people) and vertically (between people, organizations, companies, and authorities).25 But there are important variations, often linked to factors like income, labor market, and ethnic plurality. A minority of about 20 percent remains outside engagement in civil society, and the same number of people have a low grade of trust, and, at least partly, express that they are not a part of Swedish society.26 This is seen all over Sweden, but especially in bigger cities like Stockholm, where trust in other people as well as in authorities varies greatly from area to area, depending on levels of income, education, and ethnic homogeneity.27 360

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This was what the situation looked like in 2015. Immigrants and refugees had been entering Sweden for only about 50 years, and during that time they had helped build Swedish society. Political parties and most people were able to see this and welcome them. But—to drive the point home—even if they were welcomed into the country, real contacts between native Swedes and immigrants were seldom strong. Often a fine line between “us” and “them” remained.This could, for example, be seen in the difficulties a person with a foreign background had in finding a job that was not just unskilled, low-paid labor. It could also be seen in the development of the city, where native Swedes often left when immigrants moved into the area, making the city even more segregated. In time, and because of the relatively high numbers of immigrants that had come to Sweden, as well as the appearance of a high-profile populist-party—Sverigedemokraterna, which dominated the immigration debate—the general debate and discussions about immigration grew in intensity from 2010 onward. In August 2014 Fredrik Reinfeldt, the Swedish Prime Minister and leader of the Conservative Party, in a now-famous speech, urged people to open their hearts to the refugees expected to arrive later that same year. But a month later he lost the general election and had to resign, while Sverigedemokraterna had their best result yet with 12.7 percent of the votes.This was the situation prior to the events of 2015.

The situation in 2015 They were extremely tired, sometimes crying, carrying their belongings with them.There were older people, children, and families.They came to Sweden, through Europe, on foot or by other means. Most of them were fleeing the war in Syria, others came from Iraq or Afghanistan. Everyone in Sweden knew they were coming. Some personally witnessed them, others saw them on TV or read about them in the papers.They were discussed during lunch at work, and discussed by families at home. Everyone had an opinion and saw different solutions. But most of all—at least at first—the absolute majority saw what was happening as a humanitarian catastrophe. People needed help and needed that help now. The year before—2014—had been a special year. During 2014 Sweden received its second largest number of refugees ever. But 2015 started off in a different direction.The number of refugees and asylum seekers was considerably lower than the previous year. The Swedish Migration Agency interpreted the new situation as a consequence of the long waiting times for asylum seekers, which made Sweden a less attractive country in which to seek asylum. Germany, Austria, and France were more likely to see refugees coming their way.The prognosis changed from an estimated number of 80,000 people to 74,000 for the year 2015. However, in July 2015, something changed. A new route was established from Turkey to Greece.Turkey had received large numbers of refugees at the time and thus did not endeavor to stop, or control, the refugees continuing on to Europe. Television showed the refugees spreading over Europe. New prognoses said there could be as many as 3,000–4,000 asylum seekers per week coming to Sweden. In reality, between 7,000 and 10,000 refugees per week arrived from September onward. In the end, 162,877 persons had sought asylum in Sweden during 2015.28 In relation to the total population of Sweden this amounts to 1.6 percent. In comparison with, for example, the US, with a population of 320,000,000, 1.6 percent asylum seekers would mean 5,100,000 persons. In 2018 the US received 255,000 new asylum seekers.29 Individuals and civil society wanted to engage in what they saw. Many people interpreted the situation as catastrophic and wanted to contribute, to help the authorities in whichever way they could. Some with money, others with their hands (Informant 5, I5). Many volunteered at 361

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railway stations, churches, and other places to see how they could help. They were met with other individuals, organizations, and authorities at these locations who, like themselves, did not know exactly what to do, but were confident that something had to be done (I5). Soon they had established a temporary but functional system, even though everything was still somewhat chaotic. Civil society, together with city authorities and the Swedish Migration Agency, worked side by side to manage the situation, according to one informant (I2). Most of those who came were taken care of by the Swedish Migration Agency, while persons under 18 were handed on to city authorities. City authorities often also provided housing for the refugees for a night or two until the Swedish Migration Agency was able to take over the responsibility, another informant added (Informant 6, I6).

Two voices about what was done The Church of Sweden, together with the rest of civil society, played an important role in what happened in Stockholm that fall.The Church of Sweden is—by seniority and number of members—the main religious actor in Sweden. Out of a population of 10,000,000, some 6,000,000 Swedish citizens are members of the Church. It is an Evangelical-Lutheran church and it consists of about 1,300 geographical parishes across the whole country. It has 3,500 churches and 25,000 employees. In the study En tid av möten (A time for meetings), it was noted that 82 percent of the parishes in Church of Sweden were engaged in refugee work during 2015.30 Two of those actors were Goda grannar (Good neighbors) and the parish of Västerled. Goda grannar is an organization partly supported by the parish of Katarina. Both Goda grannar and the parish of Västerled are located in the center of Stockholm, an area where refugees—and most other immigrants—can rarely afford to live. But in 2015 it was to the city center of Stockholm that the refugees were coming and something had to be done—quickly.

Goda grannar A considerable number of refugees came to Sweden in such a way that no plans on how to accommodate them were in place. Some stopped at the Danish–Swedish border city of Malmö, others continued all the way to Stockholm. One informant recalls that among the first people meeting the refugees at Central Station were members of Islamic Relief and the biggest mosque in Stockholm.They directed people to the mosque, where they were given food, the chance to shower, and a place to stay overnight (I3). However, the situation was very complex. On the third day they were approached by a Christian parish in the neighborhood—the parish of Katarina—asking them if they needed help. During 3 months in the fall of 2015 they worked together and accommodated more than 4,000 transit refugees with roughly 1,000 volunteers helping out (I3). People were given food in the mosque and they slept in the church.There was never a question whether a church and a mosque should cooperate in this way. But an informant explains the situation thus: It might have turned out differently somewhere else, but the mosque and the parish were situated not only in one of the most liberal neighborhoods of Stockholm but also in one of the most segregated ones with a high-income population. (I4)

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Due to a governmental decision concerning temporary border controls on November 12, 2015, the number of refugees was significantly reduced. But what had happened in the preceding months had created lasting connections between the parish and the mosque as well as between many of the volunteers.This resulted in a new question: what do we do now? Representatives of Islamic Relief (the mosque) and the parish met to discuss future plans.A suggestion was made to look for inspiration in what was called the “refugee church” in Berlin, Germany. This was the beginning of the continuing cooperation between the mosque and the parish of Katarina, named Goda grannar (I4).

The parish of Västerled The parish of Västerled is a parish with rather well-off members.Traditionally the diaconal work of the parish has not been much elaborated upon, and it has seldom reached the weakest in society, one informant said (I5). But, the informant continues, We have worked extensively for the well-being of children and young adults, and engaged internationally on a large scale.When it all began I went to the Central station to see if I could be of any help. What I saw was in some ways chaos, but it was organized quickly and well.A lot of people were there to help, especially many young men with second generation immigrant backgrounds. I went back to my parish to tell people what was happening. (I5) Later, the informant went back to the Central Station with others to engage in the ongoing situation.An organization called Refugees Stockholm was formed in the first few days of the crisis and began to structure the activities. The parish arranged transit accommodation for refugees going on to Finland.They arranged for food, interpreters, and clothes, as well as taking care of all the volunteers on site. Everything that happened was approved by the vicar and the parish board, according to the informant (I5). This went on for a few months until the temporary border controls came into effect in the south of Sweden, and everything came to a very sudden stop (I5).

Reactions to the events of 2015—A changing story Before the war in Syria, and the immigrants coming to Sweden as a result of it, immigration had already been discussed for many years and in many different contexts. But it had always, at least among the main political parties and the media, been discussed in a way that kept the humanitarian aspects at the core of the debate. The events of fall 2015 opened up the situation for something new. A more hostile or xenophobic view became apparent. The chaotic situation turned out to be a tipping point in which many Swedes—up until then having been immigration-friendly, or at least indifferent to it—began to think that Sweden could not take on more immigrants. Our economy, our cities, and our social structures would not make it any longer.We could not be as naïve as we had been.A new mental figure (as used by Johan Asplund and mentioned above)—much more immigration-critical—was starting to guide how Sweden and many Swedes acted in relation to immigrants. From November 12, 2015 temporary border controls were set up with the purpose of reducing the number of asylum seekers. And on November 24, 2015 the government proposed a

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number of further measures to reduce the number of people coming to Sweden, thereby making Sweden go—practically overnight—from the EU’s most generous asylum legislation to the absolute minimum allowed in the EU.31 In the last general election in 2018 Sverigedemokraterna received 17.6 percent of the votes. This led to a new situation in Sweden where most of the other political parties found themselves forced to act according to this new situation by enforcing much stricter immigration regulations. The new situation has also led to inflamed debates—not least of which on social media—and all too often with rather aggressive rhetoric. The “story” that is now agreed upon concerning the impact of the refugees on Sweden— and the mental figure behind it—has largely changed. It has changed from “we have to open our hearts,” as the Swedish Prime Minister requested in 2014, into a story of Sweden having had its borders open too wide and for too long.We have been naïve and dewy-eyed, it asserts. However, surveys show that the events of 2015 have not affected Sweden or Stockholm in any significant way.32 In truth, the immigrants who arrived in 2015 make up only a very small portion of the immigrant population of Stockholm.That does not mean there are no problems, but the problems that are visible originate from earlier—not from the situation of 2015. One informant confirms this:“What happened in 2015 has not affected Stockholm very much at all.The authorities remain in control, and the story of what happened in 2015 has been blown out of proportion in relation to what actually happened (I6).” But the informant goes on to say that does not mean everything is perfect. Stockholm has problems that have to be solved in the near future (I6). But those things do not originate from the situation in 2015.There are signs of parallel societies in Stockholm: education is lacking, and too many immigrant families live in overcrowded apartments (I6). So, the same informant continues, the question for the long term is how Stockholm is going to avoid becoming too extremely fragmented (I6). Another informant says almost the same thing.The story of Sweden and immigration has changed rapidly since 2015, even though what happened did not have a huge impact in practice. Now, one of the most important tasks is to increase the level of trust among citizens and society in general (I1).

A story for creating a “we”—The basis for developing a functional society What makes a city a city is, among other things, the diversity it contains. Different ages, interests, and sexes. People have various jobs and leisure activities. Some people are born in the city, and some move there later in life from elsewhere. One can hear different languages and see different ethnic groups. In short, the city is a diverse collection of individuals and groups that have to relate to each other, if just by the fact that they all share the same area. But at times the city is something more than people having to relate.The city can be a heartfelt “we.” Sometimes people say vi stockholmare (we, the people of Stockholm) live in a beautiful city, or vi stockholmare have the best soccer teams.At its best, to live in a city is to belong to such a “we,” to have a shared identity based on social solidarity. Sometimes, and between some parts of the city, that sense of “we” is strong, and there is solid level of trust between the people. At other times, and in other places, it is less so. This sense of community is what city planners, architects, and others are trying to create on a large scale by considering the city structure a web of relations.Areas relate to each other through an intricate system of roads. Some roads are wide and made for cars, while others are narrow and made for bicycles or walking. However, they are all made to facilitate communication. Some buildings embrace community events, while others seem to only make such relations more difficult. Green areas sometimes divide, and sometimes combine places. Constructive and relevant city planning and architecture is crucial for creating a city that functions well. However, one 364

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cannot build a functional city “we”—one informant said (I1)— with the above things alone. Soft values, such as relationships between people, becoming familiar with each other’s language and customs, are crucial too. Getting to know the history, and the hopes and dreams of others is something that has to be worked on in order to create a “we” able to trust. The way an informant describes the new story of immigration—as a huge problem—and how civil society helped the city with soft values, correlates well with much of what was/is actually being done by civil society and religious institutions, such as the Church of Sweden. In 2015 it was primarily practical and acute work that had to be done. People had to be fed and have a bed to sleep in. The issues of today are different. Civil engagement is mainly directed toward such complex and multifaceted issues as how to create a “we,” in which inclusion and integration—the soft values—are central.33 How can the Church of Sweden help the Swedish population recover a sense of shared identity while respecting diversity, without neglecting any problems that may arise at the same time? To succeed, confidence in people and among groups must be regained. In 2016 the Central Board of the Church of Sweden decided that the equivalent of about 6,500,000 American dollars would go toward work with immigrants. This has been administrated by the dioceses and has made a lot of local practical projects possible.34 This financial aid came to an end in December 2019. But the dioceses of the Church of Sweden remain hopeful about the future because, even without the financial aid, most of the work is now integrated into the regular work of parishes and dioceses and will therefore continue.35 In 2018 the Central Board also granted money toward a new project concerning the work parishes do with integration.The goal of the project is to increase the Church’s knowledge of and resistance against structural racism. A secondary goal of gaining democracy through inclusion is also on the books. Furthermore, its aim is to strengthen engagement toward trust, democracy, and integration, and to create prerequisites for a society characterized by social inclusion.36 The situation in 2015 was acute and demanded special practical actions.Today the Central Board of the Church of Sweden, as seen in the project mentioned above, interprets the priority of needs differently. Now it has become more important to work toward trust among people and the ability to create a “we” through that.Therefore Goda grannar and the parish of Västerled as well as most other civil society actors have modeled their work into new and more appropriate forms.

Goda grannar—After the acute phase in 2015 From the very beginning, the Goda grannar project has been founded on consultation, language education, and community information for the refugees. Another important factor is that they have not been doing any evangelizing. The relationship between the parish and the mosque should be equal when it comes to economy, personnel, etc.The arrangement does function, but has also been difficult to organize due to the disparate circumstances of the two factions. The parish has 40–50 employees while the mosque has only 3, and thus they have been on unequal footing from the very beginning (Informant 3, I3). When activities are organized, there should also be a mix of Christians and Muslims at all times (Informant 4, I4).This has symbolic meaning. It has been such for the people in Sweden, who see through their example that Christians and Muslims can work together. It also has symbolic meaning for the many refugees coming from conflict areas, where Christians and Muslims have historically been on opposing sides, according to an informant (I3). Today about 60 volunteers remain active in Goda grannar. Four evenings a week they hold a “language café” event, where people can sit down with a cup of coffee or tea and talk to native 365

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Swedish-speaking people—just to learn the language. On occasions the nearby restaurants help by delivering food to the event. Goda grannar also helps school children with their homework. They give legal advice to people who request it, and they organize activities for children during school vacations (I3).What is done by Goda grannar has a double impact. It helps people in need, but at the same time it also helps the native Swedes involved to get a new and better understanding of the immigration situation, making them grow as humans (I4). One informant also emphasizes the importance of being able to see Muslims and Christians together in the city. This has been especially important when terrorist attacks have occurred somewhere around the globe. After the terrorist attack in Stockholm on April 7, 2017—when a man hijacked a truck in central Stockholm and drove at high speed down a pedestrian street, killing five persons—seven imams and seven priests visited the site together, to prove that it was not a matter of conflict between the two faiths. When the terrorist attack occurred in Christchurch, New Zealand, Goda grannar was part of a human chain surrounding a mosque during the Friday prayer, in an attempt to make the people attending the prayer feel safer (I4). Since the start of the project the relations have been good between Goda grannar and the city authorities. One informant reveals that she has never witnessed any reluctance on the part of the city when it comes to working together with religious organizations (I4). Thanks to the positive response, the project is now spreading to other parts of Stockholm.At the same time, because the situation is no longer acute and because the story of immigration is changing, the weakening economy of the parish will affect Goda grannar’s ability to continue in the same manner for any length of time (I4). Maybe, an informant speculates, those in charge of the parish do not understand the importance of creating lasting relationships with non-member immigrants.We will have to see what happens in the future (I4).

The parish of Västerled—After the acute phase in 2015 According to one informant, a lot of work remained to be done after the most acute situation was over (I6). Many were still in need of practical help, and integration into society had to be achieved in a manner that was both sufficiently positive, but slow. This made the active parish volunteers consider how to go on with their work. The informant continues on to say: “We think that working with these types of issues is linked to our identity. It is our responsibility and it brings us together as a parish (I6).”The informant also adds, But at the same time, with the acute situation over, we have to prioritize issues in the parish, and it is easy to notice a trend where immigrants as a group are put up against other disadvantaged groups, such as the elderly. In a situation like that, the immigrants will be on the losing side. (I6) However, the work continues in different forms, such as a joint project with one of the unaffiliated churches in the same area.The informant also asserts that the parish itself has been positively affected by what has happened. Many of the volunteers who helped at the Central Station had never been in contact with the parish before, but have since then become active members (I6). The informant also believes that the city itself—at least in some ways—has also been affected by the fact that the parish played such an active and social role. People both inside and outside the parish know that and have seen the positive result. The informant finishes by saying that probably the most important effect the situation of 2015 and its aftermath have had on the city is the way it has affected the people who make up the city. People have seen that it is possible to 366

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confront a chaotic situation and master it.They have seen that what they do is meaningful, not just for themselves but also for many others. In this way the social capital and trust in society have gone up, and that is important for the future (I6).

A religious contribution to the city—Building a story of trust Both Goda grannar and the parish of Västerled are doing something very important for a functional city.They are creating social trust.And they do it by creating—on a small scale—a shared identity, a sense of “we.”This is perhaps one of the most important ways churches can contribute to society. Of course, churches face the same difficulties as everyone else, and creating a “we” is always hard to accomplish. However, the Christian narrative contains tools, stories, and has mass appeal, which can be used to create places of community and pluralism, and which the church has the possibility—and maybe even the obligation—to use.The informants from Goda grannar, or those from the parish of Västerled, seldom talk about it explicitly, but it is obvious that the words of scripture are the foundation for their actions. Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot would say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,’ that would not make it any less a part of the body.And if the ear would say,‘Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,’ that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? As it is, there are many members, yet one body. (1 Corinthians 12:14–20) In essence, the metaphor of the body as a community presents a real dilemma. How can the community aspect be nourished and at the same time stay open to differences? How can a parish model a community that also includes differences? This truly is a dilemma, which in principle is without solution, but still needs handled.This must be modeled locally and in the moment. The same could probably be said about life in a city. Just as humans belong together, the city is a body that needs all of its parts. If one part suffers, the rest will also suffer in some way, and fragmentation increases the possibility of such an outcome.To avoid this “suffering,” Goda grannar and the parish of Västerled are trying to create environments that, despite differences in ethnicity, culture, and religion, rest on mutual respect and fascination with each other. In the Christian tradition, it is required of every person to strive to act responsibly, i.e., to live their life in the manner Jesus lived his life for us.This is an act that must be performed in response to God’s will, and kept apart from the opinions of others.This gives the church a special role. It has to work with creating a “we.”And therefore, the church has to act in relation to Jesus and it has to be responsible. However, to try to create communities and cities built on diversity does not mean it is possible for us to fully embrace it. To create a community—or a city—wholly without walls, and based on equality and a feeling of “we,” might be a dream. But even if it is an unreachable dream, the church is obliged to strive continuously for it.37 At the moment, the story of Sweden and immigration seems to have largely turned into one of problems, to building walls and safe-guarding oneself. Because of this changing story, the “we” that is a foundation for every prospering community is slowly getting more and more porous. Goda grannar, the parish of Västerled, the Church of Sweden in general, and large parts of the 367

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civil society are actively working to transform the story into a positive one again.With this they hope to contribute to the creation of a new, strong “we” in Stockholm, as well as in society in general. But whatever happens in the future cannot be known yet.

Notes 1 Niclas Blåder, Associate professor in Systematic theology and dean of the diocese of Stockholm, Church of Sweden. 2 “Klimat och miljö i topp inför EU-valet,”Aftonbladet, May 6, 2019,Aftonbladet www.aftonbladet.se/ nyheter/samhalle/a/8mPqj1/klimat-och-miljo-i-topp-infor-eu-valet 3 “Valresultat,” Valmyndigheten, accessed July 7, 2019 www.val.se/valresultat/riksdag-landsting-ochkommun/2018/valresultat.html. 4 A well-known example of this is when the American president Donald Trump at a meeting in Melbourne, Florida 2017 said:“You look at what’s happening last night in Sweden” referring to something terrible. Even though nothing had in fact happened at all. See for example: “Last Night in Sweden? Trump’s Remarks Baffles a Nation,” The New York Times, February 19, 2017, www.nytimes. com/2017/02/19/world/europe/last-night-in-sweden-trumps-remark-baffles-a-nation.html. 5 “Invandringsfrågan allt viktigare för väljarna,” SVT-nyheter, accessed August 11, www.svt.se/nyheter/ val2018/invandringsfragan-allt-viktigare-for-valjarna. 6 See the bibliography for a description of the informants. 7 Noomi Weinryb,“Flyktingkrisen omdefinierar civilsamhällets roll,” Idealistas förlag, accessed May 22, 2019, https://idealistas.se/kurage/2016/05/10/flyktingkrisen-omdefinierar-civilsamhallets-roll/Kurage. 8 Johan Asplund, Teorier om framtiden (Stockholm: Liber förlag, 1979), pp. 150–65. 9 Rojas Mauricio, I ensamhetens labyrint (Stockholm: Moderna tider, 1993), p. 39. 10 “Historik,” Migrationsverket, accessed July 16, www.migrationsverket.se/Om-Migrationsverket/ Migration-till-Sverige/Historik.html. 11 Rojas, I ensamhetens, pp. 39–59. 12 “Historik,” Migrationsverket. 13 Ibid. 14 Lisa Salomonsson, “Stockholms församlingars arbete mot segregation,” Stockholms stift, pp. 26–31, accessed November 17, 2020, www.sociology.su.se/polopoly_fs/1.279398.1460992635!/menu/ standard/file/Stockholms%20f%C3%B6rsamlingars%20arbete%20mot%20segregation%202.pdf. 15 “Stockholms län,” Migrationsinfo, accessed August 8, 2019, www.migrationsinfo.se/regional-statistik/ stockholms-lan/. 16 “Stora hälsoklyftor i Stockholms län,” Folkhälsoguiden, accessed June 26, 2019, www.folkhalsoguiden. se/nyheter/stora-halsoklyftor-i-stockholms-lan/. 17 “migrationsinfo.se,” accessed May 28, 2019, www.migrationsinfo.se/#. 18 “Positiva trender i många utsatta områden,” Polismyndigheten, accessed August 5, 2019, https://polisen. se/aktuellt/nyheter/2019/juni/positiva-trender-i-manga-utsatta-omraden/. 19 “Polisens rapport om allvarlig och organiserad brottslighet 2017,” Polismyndigheten, accessed August 14, 2019, https://polisen.se/siteassets/dokument/organiserad_brottslighet/polisens-rapport-om-allvar lig-och-organiserad-brottslighet-2017.pdf. 20 Jesper Strömbäck and Nora Theorin, En analys av förändringar och medieeffekter i Sverige 2014-2016. Statens offentliga utredningar, rapport 2018:4, accessed July 7, 2019. 21 Rojas. I ensamhetens, pp. 41–60. 22 Ibid. 23 Mauricio Rojas. Sveriges oälskade barn. Att vara svensk men ändå inte (Stockholm: Brombergs, 1995). 24 Ibid. pp. 12–14. 25 For a similar discussion see for example: Robert Putnam’s use of “bonding” and “bridging.” Robert Putnam, Bowling Alone.The Collapse and Revival of American Community. 26 Susanne Wallman Lundåsen and Lars Trägårdh, Civilsamhälle, social sammanhållning och tillit, Underlagsrapport Stockholms stad, accessed November 17, 2020, http://miun.diva-portal.org/smash/ get/diva2:882650/FULLTEXT01.pdf. 27 Ibid. 3. 28 “Asylsökande i Sverige,” Migrationsinfo, accessed August 11, 2019, www.migrationsinfo.se/migration/ sverige/asylsokande-i-sverige/.

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Newcomers, residents, and conflict 29 “Assylsökande i världen,” Migrationsinfo, accessed februari 9, 2020, www.migrationsinfo.se/migration/ varlden/asylsokande-i-varlden/. 30 Kristina Hellqvist and Andreas Sandberg. En tid av möten. Arbetet med asylsökande och nyanlända i Svenska kyrkans församlingar, accessed November 17, 2020, www.svenskakyrkan.se/filer/SK16437_En%20tid% 20av%20m%C3%B6ten_l%C3%A5guppl%C3%B6st.pdf. 31 Gudrun Antemar, “Att ta emot människor på flykt, Sverige hösten 2015,” Statens offentliga utredningar SOU 2017:12, accessed November 17, 2020, www.regeringen.se/493c42/contentassets/e8c195d35de a4c05a1c952f9b0b45f38/att-ta-emot-manniskor-pa-flykt-sou-201712-del-1. 32 “Det stora antalet asylsökande under 2015 ökade inte flyktinginvandringen nämnvärt,” SCB, accessed June 8,2019,www.scb.se/hitta-statistik/statistik-efter-amne/befolkning/befolkningens-sammansattning/ befolkningsstatistik/pong/statistiknyhet/asylsokande-grund-for-bosattning-utlandsk-bakgrundmedborgarskapsbyten-adoptioner-hushallsstatistik-och-medellivslangder-2015/ or Maria Eriksson and Erik Fölster, Invandringens konsekvenser för ekonomisk tillväxt, Reforminstitutet, accessed May 20, 2019, www.reforminstitutet.se/wp/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Invandringen skonsekvenser140320.pdf. or Aykan Celikaksoy and Eskil Wadensjö. Nyanlända på väg mot etablering i Stockholm, Stockholms stad, accessed June 14, 2019. or Ibrahim Shoresh and Rebecka Hagman, Fokus nyanlända, Stockholms stad, accessed July 12, 2019. 33 Hellqvist and Sandberg, En tid av möten. 34 For a brief overview of the projects in the diocese of Stockholm see: “Samlad återrapportering från stiften av kyrkostyrelsens ekonomiska medel till församlingars arbete med flyktingar och asylsökande 2017,” Stockholms stift, archives of the diocese of Stockholm. 35 “Kartläggning om hur övriga stift tänker framåt efter 2020 om migrationsfrågorna utifrån frågor om bemanning och ansökan av externa bidrag,” Stockholms stift, archives of the diocese of Stockholm. 36 “Ansökan om fortsatt finansiering av programmet “Social hållbarhet” fokus Tillit och Demokrati,” Stockholms stift, archives of the diocese of Stockholm, Church of Sweden. 37 Niclas Blåder, Gemenskap och mångfald. En ekklesiologisk studie med utgångspunkt i Don S. Brownings metod, där två församlingars tal om identitet och pluralism i den egna församlingen relateras till Dietrich Bonhoeffers teologiska tänkande, Linköping University, accessed November 17, 2020, www.avhandlingar.se/av handling/8f25fc87fe/.

Bibliography Aftonbladet.“Klimat och miljö i topp inför EU-valet.”Accessed May 6, 2019.Aftonbladet www.aftonbladet. se/nyheter/samhalle/a/8mPqj1/klimat-och-miljo-i-topp-infor-eu-valet. “Ansökan om fortsatt finansiering av programmet. ‘Social hållbarhet’ fokus Tillit och Demokrati.” Stockholms stift.Archives of the diocese of Stockholm, Church of Sweden. Antemar, Gudrun. Att ta emot människor på flykt, Sverige hösten 2015. Betänkande av utredningen om migrationsmottagande 2015. Statens offentliga utredningar SOU 2017:12. www.regeringen.se/493c42/content assets/e8c195d35dea4c05a1c952f9b0b45f38/att-ta-emot-manniskor-pa-flykt-sou-201712-del-1. Asplund, Johan. Teorier om framtiden (Stockholm: Liber förlag, 1979). Blåder, Niclas. Gemenskap och mångfald. En ekklesiologisk studie med utgångspunkt i Don S. Brownings metod, där två församlingars tal om identitet och pluralism i den egna församlingen relateras till Dietrich Bonhoeffers teologiska tänkande. Linköping University. www.avhandlingar.se/avhandling/8f25fc87fe/. Celikaksoy, Aycan and Eskil Wadensjö. Nyanlända på väg mot etablering i Stockholm. Stockholms stad. Accessed June 14, 2019. file:///C:/Users/nicblade/Downloads/nyanlanda-pa-vag-mot-etablering-istockholm%20(1).pdf. “Det stora antalet asylsökande under 2015 ökade inte flyktinginvandringen nämnvärt.” SCB.Accessed June 8, 2019. www.scb.se/hitta-statistik/statistik-efter-amne/befolkning/befolkningens-sammansattning/ befolkningsstatistik/pong/statistiknyhet/asylsokande-grund-for-bosattning-utlandsk-bakg rundmedborgarskapsbyten-adoptioner-hushallsstatistik-och-medellivslangder-2015/. Eriksson, Maria and Stefan Fölster. Invandringens konsekvenser för ekonomisk tillväxt. Reforminstitutet. Accessed May 20, 2019. www.reforminstitutet.se/wp/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Invandringen skonsekvenser140320.pdf.

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Niclas Blåder Folkhälsoguiden. “Stora hälsoklyftor i Stockholms län.” Accessed June 26, 2019. www.folkhalsoguiden.se/ nyheter/stora-halsoklyftor-i-stockholms-lan/. Hellqvist, Kristina and Andreas Sandberg. En tid av möten. Arbetet med asylsökande och nyanlända i Svenska kyrkans församlingar 2015–2016. www.svenskakyrkan.se/filer/SK16437_En%20tid%20av%20m%C3 %B6ten_l%C3%A5guppl%C3%B6st.pdf. “Kartläggning om hur övriga stift tänker framåt efter 2020 om migrationsfrågorna utifrån frågor om bemanning och ansökan av externa bidrag.” Stockholms stift.Archives of the diocese of Stockholm. Migrationsinfo. “Asylsökande i Sverige.” Accessed August 11, 2019. www.migrationsinfo.se/migration/ sverige/asylsokande-i-sverige/. Migrationsinfo. “Asylsökande i världen.” Accessed February 9, 2020. www.migrationsinfo.se/migration/ varlden/asylsokande-i-varlden. Migrationsinfo.“Stockholms län.”Accessed August 8, 2019. www.migrationsinfo.se/regional-statistik/stock holms-lan/. “Migrationsinfo.se.”Accessed May 28, 2019. www.migrationsinfo.se/#. Migrationsverket. “Historik.” Accessed July 16, 2019. www.migrationsverket.se/Om-Migrationsverket/ Migration-till-Sverige/Historik.html. Polismyndigheten. “Polisens rapport om allvarlig och organiserad brottslighet 2017.” Accessed August 14, 2019. https://polisen.se/siteassets/dokument/organiserad_brottslighet/polisens-rapport-om-allvarligoch-organiserad-brottslighet-2017.pdf. Polismyndigheten.“Positiva trender i många utsatta områden.”Accessed August 5, 2019. https://polisen.se/ aktuellt/nyheter/2019/juni/positiva-trender-i-manga-utsatta-omraden/. Putnam, Robert. Bowling Alone. The Collapse and Revival of American Community (London: Simon and Schuster, 2001). Rojas, Mauricio. I ensamhetens labyrint (Stockholm: Moderna tider, 1993). Rojas, Mauricio. Sveriges oälskade barn.Att vara svensk men ändå inte (Stockholm: Brombergs, 1995). Salomonsson, Lisa. “Stockholms församlingars arbete mot segregation.” Stockholms stift. 26–46. www. sociology.su.se/polopoly_fs/1.279398.1460992635!/menu/standard/file/Stockholms%20f%C3%B6r samlingars%20arbete%20mot%20segregation%202.pdf. Shoresh, Ibrahim and Rebecka Hagman. Fokus nyanlända. För en hållbar etablering och inkludering. Stockholms stad. Stockholms stift. “Samlad återrapportering från stiften av kyrkostyrelsens ekonomiska medel till församlingars arbete med flyktingar och asylsökande 2017 (Ks 60 mnkr 2017).” Archives of the diocese of Stockholm. Strömbäck, Jesper and Nora Theorin. En analys av förändringar och medieeffekter i Sverige 2014–2016. Statens offentliga utredningar, rapport 2018:4. SVT-Nyheter. “Invandringsfrågan allt viktigare för väljarna.” Accessed August 11, 2019. www.svt.se/nyhe ter/val2018/invandringsfragan-allt-viktigare-for-valjarna. The New York Times. “Last Night in Sweden? Trump’s Remarks Baffles a Nation.” Accessed February 19,2017.www.nytimes.com/2017/02/19/world/europe/last-night-in-sweden-trumps-remark-bafflesa-nation.html. Valmyndigheten. “Valresultat.” Accessed July 7, 2019. www.val.se/valresultat/riksdag-landsting-ochkommun/2018/valresultat.html. Wallman Lundåsen, Susanne and Lars Trägårdh. Civilsamhälle, social sammanhållning och tillit. Underlagsrapport Stockholms stad. miun.diva-portal.org/smash/get/diva2:882650/FULLTEXT01.pdf. Weinryb, Noomi.“Flyktingkrisen omdefinierar civilsamhällets roll.” Idealistas förlag. Accessed May 22, 2019. https://idealistas.se/kurage/2016/05/10/flyktingkrisen-omdefinierar-civilsamhallets-roll/Kurage.

Interviews The interviews under this heading have been done individually and each interview took approximately one hour.The interviews are to be found in the archive of this article’s author. Informant 1 (I1) works at the diocesan office of the Church of Sweden in Stockholm and works mainly with refugees and migration. May 6, 2019. Informant 2 (I2) works at the diocesan office of the Church of Sweden in Stockholm and works mainly with refugees and migration. May 14, 2019. Informant 3 (I3) is a high-ranking member of the main mosque in Stockholm and also a member of an organization that was founded in September 2015, Goda grannar (Good neighbors). June 11, 2019.

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Newcomers, residents, and conflict Informant 4 (I4) works with Goda grannar as well, but has a Christian background. June 3, 2019. Informant 5 (I5) is a priest in the Church of Sweden and was among the first people at Stockholm Central Station in 2015. May 17, 2019. Informant 6 (I6) is a high-ranking official in the city council of Stockholm. May 9, 2019.

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26 THE ROHINGYA REFUGEE CRISIS Religious identity as a source of expulsion, hospitality, and solidarity M Ala Uddin

Introduction The Rohingya have lived in Rakhine State of Myanmar1 since the seventh or eighth centuries (Karim, 2016; Minahan, 2012; Rahman, 2012). However, they have faced discrimination and systematic persecution for decades. Given their faith in Islam, and identity as Rohingya, the majority people of Myanmar do not acknowledge them as countrymen; rather, they are often despised outright. Since the 1980s, the Rohingya have faced severe discrimination in the Buddhist-majority country, and considered to be “illegal emigrants” from neighboring Bangladesh. Although they have lived in Arakan for generations, in accordance with the 1982 Citizenship, they became de jure stateless in their own country (Ahmed, 2010). Since then, the Rohingya are no longer a native people of any country—a people without their own homeland. In effect, for decades, they have been widely known as a paradigmatic “stateless” people (Ahmed, 2010;Abrar, 2017).The fate of the hapless religious minority remained unchanged; rather, it has worsened over time. They are often described as one of “the world’s most persecuted minority” (Fortify Rights, 2014). The recurring sectarian violence and systematic persecutions have resulted in them frequently seeking safety in neighboring countries, mainly in Bangladesh. In the historical trajectories, whenever they faced severe persecutions in Rakhine, they fled to save their lives, and preferred to seek refuge in Cox’s Bazar, a coastal district located in the southeastern part of Bangladesh, which has been widely known as a tourist zone in Bangladesh.2 However, beginning in the early 1990s, this tourist hub has become a refugee harbor in 2017-2018, making it also an NGO-prone district in Bangladesh. By 2018 it had become home to many international NGOs as well. Now Cox’s Bazar witnesses more foreigners but they are not primarily tourists, most of them work in various international organizations to ease Rohingya’s sufferings through life-saving services. Now the tourist area has got a different look, with those not only from the foreigners working for international organizations, as well as hundreds of local researchers, government officials, and security forces, all working tirelessly to manage the Rohingya crisis. Many Bangladeshi and foreign scholars and researchers are doing research on Rohingya issues as well. Unlike before, luxurious hotels are now full of guests who do not come to see the beauty of the beach but are here mainly for Rohingya refugees, who are concentrated in two sub-districts (upazila) of Cox’s Bazar: namely, Ukhia, and Teknaf— that adjoin the Naf River dividing Bangladesh and Myanmar. In August 2017, popular and 372

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state-supported violence against the Rohingya became so severe that more than 700,000 Rohingya had to flee on foot to Bangladesh. In response, despite their own economic struggles, local Bengali Muslims from Ukhia and Teknaf came to offer shelter to the forced migrant Rohingyas in their homes and yards. The Rohingya belong to the same religion (i.e., Islam), and speak almost the same language (Chittagonian dialect). In regards to the suffering of the Rohingya displacees, the Bangladesh government immediately showed a humanitarian gesture of generosity. It has permitted Rohingya to settle in refugee camps in an economically and environmentally sensitive3 area of the country. What accounts for the difference in their displacement from Myanmar, and reception in Bangladesh? Notwithstanding the humanitarian crisis of the Rohingya, which has continued for decades, the underlying factors in the displacement and accommodation, especially considering religion, have so far received very little research attention. Given this dearth of research, this paper attempts to offer a critical and constructive account of the roles of religion in the Rohingya refugee crisis, and provide insights into the dynamic relationship between religion and refugee affairs—both for the creation and response to the problem— in the ongoing sectarian conflict in Myanmar, and religious solidarity in Bangladesh. In the wake of the recent global refugee crises, religion has garnered serious attention by diverse scholars as well as policymakers—in the making and resolving conflicts. This article explores the religious aspects of refugeehood in Bangladesh. However, religious factors in the accommodation of Rohingya in Bangladesh cannot be wholly understood without taking into account the religious dimensions in the production of the refugee crisis. In this paper, first I briefly explore the context of the study, reviewing relevant literature and conceptual frameworks.Thereupon, I discuss the background of the Rohingya and their persecution in Rakhine State, which has resulted largely from ethnoreligious differences. In the process I will discuss the Rohingya plight in refugee camps in Bangladesh, and analyze the impact of the refugee situation on host societies and how the Rohingya have been treated in Cox’s Bazar. Besides the accommodation of the refugees in Cox’s Bazar, I will show how Cox’s Bazar has become a center of NGOs, researchers, and humanitarian agencies as byproducts. Subsequently, I explore how they have been integrated in the nearby port city of Chittagong since the 1980s.

Concept, objectives, and study methods For a long, anthropologists have been studying diverse forms, and consequences of migration: displacement, forced migration, refugee situation, and diaspora. The strength of anthropological approach is that it analyzes the lived-experiences of migrants through the whole process. Its holistic perspective is unique in understanding the everyday experiences of migrants—whether forced or voluntary.While migrants travel through an uncertain process, they leave behind their past and often lose their belongings. Anthropologists try to understand the belongings that narrate the stories of individuals, collective identity, shared background, wider relationships, and the present-day consequences of the past events. With holistic approach, anthropologists view migration more broadly in the light of connected realities and social processes that cannot be understood fully isolating from the whole contexts within which the processes occur (see Rashid, 2016).Toward that end, the present paper tries to shed light on the tangled web in which the Rohingya find themselves in between state and statelessness. It considers human, as well as refugee rights, ethnicity, and nationalism as strong conceptual points of analysis. It analyzes these concepts with anthropological insights. In response to the relative absence of comprehensive research on the longstanding Rohingya crisis, I intermittently conducted empirical research between July 2014 and October 2019 373

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(before and after the en masse exodus of 2017) at different refugee campsites in Cox’s Bazar, where more than one million Rohingya currently live in horrendous conditions. Like in their country of origin, most Rohingya remain “stateless” in Bangladesh. Notwithstanding their sufferings and restricted lives, most of them prefer to stay in Bangladesh and survive mainly on the humanitarian aid rather than return back to Rakhine without basic rights. Under these circumstances, I conducted qualitative research largely among the Rohingya refugees. To understand local versions of the refugee crisis and the overwhelming effects on local lives, the host communities were also included in the study. Taking religion as a major mark, the paper addresses the following four major interrelated issues: • • • •

Life-experiences of the Rohingya in Rakhine Living conditions of the Rohingya refugees in Cox’s Bazar Role of religion both in the creation of and in the response to the crisis Accommodation and integration in Cox’s Bazar and Chittagong

The paper draws upon qualitative data collected from 68 interviews among Rohingya refugees and 10 volunteers and assistance organizations at 7 refugee camps (i.e., Kutupalong, Balukhali, Burma Para, Hakim Para, Unchiprang, Mainnerghona, Leda, Nayapara) in two major sites: Ukhia, and Teknaf of Cox’s Bazar district.These campsites were chosen because they represent both traditional (sites that have a long history of receiving refugees, e.g., Kutupalong, Nayapara) and emerging gateways (sites that have recently received refugees at a faster rate than the previous average, e.g., Balukhali, Burma Para). It is also important to compare traditional gateways to emerging ones, as the emerging gateways provide more recent and detailed experiences of the newly arrived refugees, while the old campsites provide life-experiences of the previously arrived refugees, as well as mixed reactions of the host communities. Rohingya people (N=15) living in Chittagong city were also included in the study. Moreover, I talked with several government officials, including a joint secretary associated with Refugee Relief and Repatriation Commission (RRRC), deputy commissioner, police commissioner, three members of Border Guard Bangladesh (BGB), an Upazila Nirbahi Officer (UNO), and members of the host communities. The research methodology included conducting a questionnaire survey and information gathered by observation, Focus Group Discussions (FGDs), In-Depth Interviews (IDIs) and Key-Informant Interviews (KIIs). The study also included some interesting case study-based analysis on two particular areas where, in spite of religious and linguistic similarities, Rohingya face severe threats; however, for these similarities, many got shelter and necessary support from local Bengalis. Individual and group interviews were conducted to understand the crisis more comprehensively. FGDs were set in places with adequate privacy for participants to express their views and opinions without fear of adverse consequences. Given that the displaced Rohingya bring with them a wealth of information and memories which are crucial for understanding and comparing their ways of life, I also explored these issues through IDIs, KIIs, and FGDs.A set of questionnaires was developed, pretested, reviewed, and based on the pilot study data was collected and properly analyzed. Leading questions were formulated for each interest group such as ‘old’ waves and ‘new’ waves of Rohingya—aged, adolescents from both sexes, including some community leaders (imams, moazzins, majhis). To supplement primary data, secondary sources (e.g., scientific articles, research reports, newspaper reports and articles, etc.) were also consulted. The purposive sampling method was employed throughout the study. Following the methodological procedures, this paper offers a critical and constructive account on the roles of religion in the longstanding Rohingya crisis. While religion has always been a 374

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contextually based phenomenon, this paper particularly focuses on how the Muslim refugees have been accommodated in Cox’s Bazar and Chittagong, and how they try to manage their survival in alien environments, populated predominantly by the Bengali Muslims.While different types and causes of migration to cities exist, the paper explores their impact across the areas of urban infrastructure and services, and elaborates on the broader role of the private sector, civil society, and international organizations in addressing the challenges the city faces to enable the long-term integration of the Rohingya migrants.

History of persecutions The Rohingya are an ethnic,4 linguistic,5 and religious6 minority in Myanmar.They are a significant Muslim minority in a Buddhist-majority country. Numbering approximately 1,300,000, they were predominantly concentrated in the coastal Rakhine State, where they comprised about half of the total population of the State.The other half are largely the Buddhist Rakhine. However, now more than one million Rohingya live in Bangladesh who have fled decades of persecution and discrimination in Rakhine, with the few displaced Rohingya living in a number of internment camps in Rakhine. Historically the Rakhine State finds itself at the crossroads of two worlds: South Asia and Southeast Asia, between Muslim–Hindu Asia and Buddhist Asia, and amid the Indo-Aryan and Mongoloid races. While the majority Burmese people are of Southeast Asian origin and Buddhists by religion, the Muslim Rohingya are oriented toward South Asia, Islam, and isolated from the rest of the Burmese people in terms of language, culture, politics and economy. According to some historians, the Rohingya have been living in Arakan (along the Burmese border with Bangladesh) since the seventh or eighth century (Karim, 2016; Minahan, 2012; Rahman, 2012). With Muslim poets (such as the great poet Alaol), saints, and political ruling administrators, Arakan reached the pinnacle of its glory in the seventeenth century (Karim, 2016). It was an independent Muslim kingdom until 1784, when the Buddhist Burmese king Bodawphaya began to rule it. From that time onward, two distinct communities started living in Arakan.They were the Muslim Rohingya and the Buddhist Magh or Rakhine. In one stage of historical trajectories, the British came to rule Burma in 1824.They identified a total of 135 distinct ‘races’ of Burma, but, mysteriously, the Rohingya were left out from the list as an indigenous ethnic group. Historically speaking, prior to the emergence of independent Burma and Bangladesh, some Rohingya and Burmese people had settled in what is now Bangladesh (especially in the districts of Chittagong and Cox’s Bazar); conversely, some Bengalis had settled in Burma (mainly in Arakan). Until then, migration from both countries (Bangladesh–Burma) went undetected since there was no border patrol. In the wake of Partition of India in 1947, considering their historical connection, culture and religion, most of the Rohingya wanted to be part of Pakistan. But upon the independence of Burma from the United Kingdom, through the 1948 Citizenship Law, they were made bona fide citizens of Burma.Although, Rohingya were never formally recognized as an ethnic group, some Rohingyas served as parliamentary members, secretaries, and ministers throughout the democratic period. But the situation—Rohingya participation in politics and economy—began to change with the rule of General Ne Win, who overturned the democratic government in a military coup in 1962.To Ne Win, the prior ruling party had accepted Rohingya as citizens merely to get their support in the elections. Still, Rohingyas were allowed to vote and stand for office until 1980s. However, in an attempt to exclude the Rohingyas from the mainstream society, the military 375

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ruler began to amend the citizenship law, and soon took away their citizenship rights making them de jure stateless in their own country since 1982 (Ahmed, 2010). Since then, Burmese officials refer to the Rohingya as “Bengali migrants,” “foreign Myanmar residents,” or “illegal emigrants from Bangladesh.”With these pejorative terminologies, they have been systematically deprived of fundamental rights in their ancestral land. In the process, since the late 1970s, the Rohingya have faced severe discrimination in Arakan. The Burmese governments have restricted their travel within the country and required them to seek permission to get married. Failure to comply with the rule, Rohingyas must face long term jail sentences. In addition, the government stipulated that no married couple can have more than two children (Fortify Rights, 2014). Both the human rights experts and the Rohingya perceive these rules to be aimed at a “slow genocide” or “slow poisoning” toward “ethnic cleansing.” Under these discriminatory circumstances, dire living conditions have been a strong push factor for Rohingya to leave their home country. Since the 1990s, the Rohingya have faced persecution, in effect, recurrent exodus has become part of their life-struggle. Like the previous ones, in the latest persecution in 2017, the military forces and armed Buddhist Rakhine committed widespread killings, rape and gang-rape, and destruction of mosques. The recurring sectarian violence and apartheid-like conditions in Myanmar have resulted in Rohingya frequently seeking safety in neighboring countries, mainly in Bangladesh. Apart from Bangladesh, a number of displaced Rohingya also live in Saudi Arabia, Pakistan,Thailand, Malaysia, Europe, North America, Arab Emirates, Australia, and New Zealand. However, wherever they live, they are “natives of nowhere” (Cower-Smith, 2019). Whenever the Rohingya have faced severe persecutions (e.g., arbitrary arrest, torture, killing, burning, illegal expulsion, and forced internment) in Rakhine, they have fled to save their lives, often seeking refuge in Cox’s Bazar of Bangladesh. In 1978, for instance, more than 200,000 crossed the border into Bangladesh, while in 1992, around 250,000 Rohingya sought refuge in Cox’s Bazar in order to flee state terrorism and systematic persecutions in Rakhine (HRW, 2009). Rohingya further faced massive persecutions in 2012, causing a major influx into Cox’s Bazar. The United Nations termed the 2017 atrocities, a “textbook example of ethnic cleansing” (UN, 2017). A UN fact-finding mission described the military campaign as having “genocidal intent” (2018), and the issue is currently under trial at the International Court of Justice in The Hague.7 In the wake of the crackdown of 2017, the long overlooked Rohingya crisis has garnered attention of the international organizations, ironically though. The suppressive state policies against the Muslim Rohingya minority have political and humanitarian consequences, as well as psychological implications for Rohingya: 1) an identity crisis; and 2) a sense of insecurity. Denial of citizenship of Rohingya has made them stateless in their own country, where their ancestors have lived since the seventh century.The Rohingya are often referred to as ‘one of the world’s most persecuted minorities.’ Moreover, they have already become the largest stateless people in the world and perhaps the only one that has been almost completely displaced without any protection and substantial protest within Myanmar or beyond. In response to the persecutions, although several Rohingya armed groups were organized in the 1990s, they were short-lived (Ahmed, 2010).As stated by some key informants, the only option left for the Rohingya was to become Buddhist leaving their ethnoreligious identity, if they want to stay in Rakhine—which was unacceptable for the Muslim minority. Given the situation, according to many Rohingyas, the only alternative way to save their lives and identity was to flee from Arakan/Rakhine. Although they were aware of the perilous sufferings that certainly awaits them in exile, nevertheless, they sought shelter in Bangladesh’s impoverished district, Cox’s Bazar. Due to restricted lives in the camps, some of them however later have managed to leave Cox’s Bazar, and live elsewhere, such as in the nearby city, Chittagong. 376

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Religiosity in Cox’s Bazar Whereas, back in Rakhine, religion had been a major cause of the persecution, in Cox’s Bazar, religion takes on a different role, where religiosity has been seen as contributing to provision of shelter and solidarity through active involvement in negotiations at local, national, and transnational levels. When the Rohingya sought refuge in neighboring countries, most of the countries have not been receptive.The Bangladesh government, which was initially reluctant to back the Rohingya refugees, changed its stance ahead of the “national parliamentary elections”. As a matter of fact, the public opinion created a domestic political pressure on the government to act in favor of the distressed Rohingya. According to some political commentators, if the Rohingya were not Muslim, they would not have been received well in Cox’s Bazar, since it is predominantly populated by Bengali Muslims (more than 90%). Neither the government nor the local Bengalis would have been so supportive of them. Nonetheless, many Bangladeshis consider the problem primarily as a humanitarian crisis. Apart from the overwhelming Muslim majority among the Rohingya refugees, there are some Hindu (444 families) and Christian (25 families) Rohingya in Cox’s Bazar. They also fled Rakhine along with Muslim Rohingyas following the military campaign of August 2017. The Christian and Hindu Rohingya were relatively free of risk in Rakhine while the Muslims were the key target of the systematic persecutions. Although nonMuslim Rohingyas live in separate sites (such as UNHCR transit), they sometimes face threats or attacks by the Muslim Rohingyas as the latter feel more powerful in Cox’s Bazar than they did in Rakhine. The Border Guards of Bangladesh (BGB) and local citizens appear to have been personally moved by the humanitarian disaster and have been welcoming of the refugees. Before the Rohingya took shelter in refugee camps they got shelter in local homes and madrasas (Islamic schools). Despite their struggle to cope with the harsh environment in refugee camps in Cox’s Bazar, Rohingyas feel that now they have some sense of security. In the camps, they can marry, give birth, and perform religious rituals of passage (e.g. birth, death, and marriage) that were very difficult in their own land.According to some Rohingyas, We are relatively free here.We can marry off our children without permission from the authority.We do not need to get permission for child birth which was mandatory in Arakan, where a couple was not allowed to have more than two children. (Interview, Cox’s Bazar, July 2019) Although they are not entirely satisfied with the facilities available in the camps, still they prefer to stay in Cox’s Bazar. As an impoverished and developing country, Bangladesh has been suffering from the refugee crisis for long, and governmental resources have been stretched to their limits. But its Muslim people have been very sympathetic to the fellow Rohingya Muslims, viewing them as victims of Buddhist oppression. Soon after they reached several entrance points in Ukhia and Teknaf since August 2017, locals came up with whatever they could provide for the Rohingya displacees, including shelter, food, and clothes. Later, 32 makeshift camps were built for their accommodation. Without help of the locals, Rohingya would have faced dire consequences, including starvation and death.There are some local Bengali Muslims who faced difficulties having two meals a day; but they supported the Muslim refugees for sawāb (“reward”) in the afterlife. Many from different districts visited the Rohingya in different campsites with food, clothe and money.To them,“It is our duty to help the most destitute Muslims.They are our brothers.We have to support them with 377

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whatever we have” (interview in Ukhia, 2018).As observed, many individuals, political parties, and organizations, as well as non-political organizations, have helped the Rohingya.They also raised money from others to donate the Rohingyas. I saw such banner in Dhaka (Maghbazar in 2018) where an organization (i.e. Anjuman E Mofidul Islam) was seeking money for the Rohingyas. A Bengali says in this regard,“As a Muslim we cannot avoid the situation.We are all Muslim. If we do not provide them with support,Allah will be dissatisfied.What will we respond to Him in the afterlife” (interview with a middle-aged man,Teknaf, September 18, 2019) The Bengali were very positive at the very beginning of the influx. As it has become protracted and the impact has been overwhelming on the country, many have changed their views. There has been criticism of international aid organizations, including UN, for their inability to find out a durable solution to the crisis (i.e. repatriation). Given that Bangladesh is a Muslim majority country, some political leaders have tried to become popular through their “humanitarian activities,” while all political parties unusually have supported offering refuge to the Rohingya. In addition, various initiatives have been taken across the country by individual religious groups (e.g. Muslims, Buddhists, and Christians) to provide moral as well as essential supports to the refugees. In the camps, religious institutions provide a safe and familiar place for refugees to seek compassion and support. As the Rohingya perceive that they have been ousted from Myanmar because they are Muslim, they consider Islam as their fundamental identity. Therefore, they emphasize on religion so that they can maintain an Islamic way of life. In the refugee camps they go to newly established mosques for prayer and Madrasas as Islamic learning centers for their children.As I observed in the camps, those mosques and Madrasas have been built in all the camps by several national and international Islamic organizations from Muslim countries (e.g., Kuwait, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and Turkey).They also use these religious sites for communication, and can freely practice their rituals in camps without any fear. As stated by some Rohingya, “Despite many restrictions, we celebrated two Eids (largest religious festivals) in a foreign country (Bangladesh) with religious fervor, which we never did in Burma” (interview in Nayapara and Kutupalong camps in 2019). A significant aspiration for education (both religious and general) has also been observed among the Rohingyas. Almost all Rohingya children go to moktab (morning religious school) in the early morning to learn Islamic surah, rules and Arabic language to read the Holy Quran and Hadith.Through schooling, some Rohingyas have become hujur or mawlana (Islamic educator). Eventually, they become leaders among the community. However, they have no access to formal/accredited education. Beside Bangladesh, some Muslim-populated countries including Saudi Arabia, Malaysia, Pakistan, and Indonesia have been assisting the Rohingya by giving them shelters, humanitarian aid, and diplomatic support. Here we find another picture for the insignificant number of Hindu Rohingya. The Indian Embassy in Bangladesh has been looking after the Hindu Rohingyas. However, like other Rohingya, they also receive other forms of aid from humanitarian organizations, including the Bangladesh government. Prudently, both the Bangladeshi government and the Bengali people have been cautious about potential radicalization among the Rohingya Muslims living in the camps.The government has continued strict surveillance on Rohingyas so that they are not influenced by any radical organization. Access to the camps has been heavily restricted for outsiders.The government authorities also banned activities and programs of some suspected organizations in Cox’s Bazar and refugee camps. Due to the caution and rigorous steps of the government, no evidence of radicalization at the camps has been observed so far.

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Changing landscape in Cox’s Bazar Usually, refugee settlement requires a “temporary” arrangement. But in the case of Rohingya refugees in Cox’s Bazar, it has developed into a more permanent situation as they have been living in Cox’s Bazar for about four decades. Since then, some international offices (such as World Food Program, United Nations High Commission for Refugees, Save the Children) have their set up in Cox’s Bazar to run their programs in Ukhia and Teknaf. However, with the influx of 2017-2018, the rapid growth of Rohingyas has created the world’s fastest-growing refugee emergency in Cox’s Bazar. In response, a number of local and international organizations paid attention to Cox’s Bazar. From the very beginning of September 2017 many Bangladeshi people from various districts visited the campsites every day, bringing food, clothes, money or just sympathy from fellow Muslims. In addition, several international personalities and Goodwill ambassadors visited the sites that include: Secretary General of UN Antonio Guterres, President of the World Bank Group Jim Yong Kim, head of the Catholic church Pope Francis, Nobel Peace laureates, and others.They visited several camps and met distressed Rohingyas, and spoke against Myanmar’s atrocities that forced hundreds of thousands of Rohingya Muslims to flee. All these visits garnered international attention, moral support and global sympathy for the long-overlooked Muslim minority. Eventually, since the late 2017 Cox’s Bazar has become hot spot for NGOs. Immediately, the district witnessed an influx of aid, innovative ideas and programs to ease refugees’ pain.Also, hundreds of foreign as well as local researchers have made this ‘erstwhile’ tourist spot a research hub. Hundreds of local and international professionals have been working in those NGOs. Now real tourists face difficulties in booking hotels in Cox’s Bazar and Teknaf because some NGOs have already leased them as office space. Apart from the Rohingya refugees, Bangladeshi and foreigners have expanded the periphery of Cox's Bazar with their accommodation, camp-centric programs and mobility.The expansion of various businesses to serve outsiders has given a new look to Cox's Bazar. Professionalism has also reached in hotels, restaurants, transport sector and traffic management. Given the demand, some transport companies have increased their business in Cox's Bazar by withdrawing their buses and cars from Dhaka to Chittagong. Hundreds of cars, autos (CNG), and other vehicles ply on the road from Cox's Bazar to Ukhia/Teknaf every weekday from 6am to 7pm. Now it takes more than double time to reach a place, sometimes which takes 4/5 hours extra time if an uncertain traffic jam is created somewhere. I have faced such jam several times particularly while coming back to Cox’s Bazar from camps. In addition to transport vehicles, Cox’s Bazar-Ukhia/Teknaf roads often witness camp bound hundreds of trucks to go bundled with goods, reliefs, and other supplies. Air connectivity of Cox’s Bazar has also been increased with Dhaka and Chittagong. Now almost all the time aircraft is full of passengers—half of them are working in refugee camps. In this way, Cox's Bazar has become a busy city with incoming people from all sides—river (Naf), sky, and roads. With the increase in population and diverse works, refugee camps have become busier than the Cox’s Bazar town or the beach. In effect, there are no areas of services and infrastructure that have not reached in the camps (e.g., water supply, sanitation, solar panel, petroleum gas, health centers, sewerage, and waste management).And to accomplish the huge works, a number of employees are engaged in the management, who meet every week to assess their works and progress with the site management, run by the government. Considering the variety of works, the campsites are no longer an abandoned place in any way. A new congested environment has

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developed in the heart of the empty mountains that require a different kind of management— temporary but in permanent shape. The Rohingya refugees and their lives in camps have become commonplace in Bangladesh. Likewise, people from all parts of the country have become interested to engage in the Rohingya camps. Every day hundreds of visitors/NGO workers or researchers need to have lunch nearby the camps.To serve them, many restaurants have been opened in Ukhia and Teknaf. During my research I took lunch there, and talked to a restaurant owner in Ukhia, who hails from the capital city of Dhaka. Along with some staff, he started the restaurant business all the way from Dhaka to Ukhia mainly for selling lunch.Today, snacks, drinks and coffee are available in the shops even inside the camps. Betel leaf, biscuits, and coffee are the most common snacks to Rohingyas. Among the stalls, jewelry and mobile shops are very common in camps. In addition to economic value, gold carries social and cultural importance to Rohingya families. While gold is an obvious element in any occasion, to meet the needs they have built many jewelry shops in almost every camp. Many mobile stores are also observed in most camps where mobiles are sold, repaired, charged and recharged. Most of the adults have mobile phones for talking, and listening to Burmese radios. Some use mobile phones to listening to Hindi songs and religious lectures. While passing a tea stall or a mobile shop, some idle Rohingyas are regularly seen watching Hindi cinema and gossiping– perhaps recalling their past. Inside the camp, children are attending schools (i.e. learning centers), playing, collecting drinking water from tube wells, girls are going to their ‘safe space’, learning handicrafts, adult men are hanging out in the shops, some are watching TV, while some are cutting their hair in barbershops. In the recent past, visitors to Cox’s Bazar used to enjoy the beauty of the beach and visit Saint Martin’s Island. Now most of the outsiders are NGO workers who leave the town in the morning and come back in the evening.This is the daily picture of today’s Cox's Bazar.

Changing relationship As mentioned above, currently more than a million Rohingyas are living in Ukhia and Teknaf in 34 extremely congested camps (27 in Ukhia, and 7 in Teknaf) while locals in these two upazilas are about half a million. Thus, astonishingly though, with the recent influx, the Rohingya has disproportionately outnumbered the local population in both Ukhia and Teknaf. Among the Rohingyas, about 76% live in Ukhia, while in Teknaf they are about 26% (ACAPS, 2018). In addition to the existing camp areas, the government has provided some more lands to various international organizations, including the United Nations, to build service-oriented infrastructures for refugees and locals in different sites. Given the overwhelming impact of the protracted refugee situation, the humanitarian organizations are looking to provide essential support to the host community. With the overwhelming impact of the protracted refugee situation, a city-like environment has grown at the cost of local tradition, culture, and environment.The refugees have cut down trees in the forest to build their homes and fuel for cooking. Here it is pertinent to mention that, given the vast impact, the relationship between the Rohingya refugees and host communities (Bengalis) has changed over the period. At the beginning, migrant Rohingyas were received warmly by local Bengalis for humanitarian reasons as a symbol of sympathy with religious solidarity for their neighbors. Competition over jobs, however, has strained the relation. Local working people have complained that Rohingyas have reduced the costs of labor, although the Rohingyas have a different analysis.They feel that many locals are misusing their helplessness, and are paying them less than usual. Rohingya influx has also been blamed for traffic jam, deforestation, rising commodity prices, and deteriorating law and order situation in the district. 380

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Although perceived as safe, living condition of the Rohingyas in camps is still precarious. While efforts to normalize the lives of the refugees continue, overcrowded shelters, unhealthy environment and open drains are contributing to the spread of disease in the camps. Since the second failed attempt to repatriate the Rohingya to Myanmar in mid-August 2019, the government of Bangladesh has restricted mobile network and internet connection, and has already announced that it will install barbed wire fences, watch towers and surveillance cameras around the camps (Miko and Hammond, 2019).

Survival and integration in Chittagong Bangladesh does not recognize the Rohingya migrants as “refugee” as it is not a party to the 1951 Refugee Convention or the UNHCR Statute.The Rohingya are officially registered as “Forcibly Displaced Myanmar Nationals (FDMNs)”— a designation that denies their “refugee” status and any rights attached to that status. As a result, their lives remain at risk because they are deprived of the rights to education, work and free movement.Also, because of all kinds of disenfranchisement, they are always terrified of the law enforcement agencies.Although they are not officially “refugees” in Bangladesh, 29,435 received “refugee” recognition in 1992, but they have been treated like other Rohingya migrants. Since Bangladesh is a signatory to many international human rights treaties, logically and legally obliged to ensure the fundamental rights of all people living in the country including refugees or foreigners. Despite not signing the 1951 Convention, Bangladesh has continued to provide life-saving services to the Rohingya, with basic rights such as security.With the help of international partners, it has been providing shelter and necessary support to them. Significantly, it is the Bengali people who have been very supportive to the distressed Rohingya since the very beginning of their arrival. It is important to recall that, in Myanmar the Rohingya are not regarded as one of the country’s 135 official ethnic groups, and are denied citizenship under Myanmar’s 1982 Citizenship Law, which effectively renders them “stateless.”The Myanmar officials refer to the group as “Bengalis” and insist they have emigrated illegally from Bangladesh.As stated by some Rohingyas in Cox’s Bazar,“In Myanmar they call us kala (migrants/foreigner), or illegal migrants or Bengali, as if we are from Bangladesh.” If we look back to 2016, the former UN Secretary General Kofi Annan was asked by Myanmar’s de facto leader Aung San Suu Kyi not to use the term “Rohingya” while Kofi Annan was leading a investigation in Rakhine. As acknowledged by Kofi Annan in the report,“In line with the request of the State Counsellor, the Commission used neither the term ‘Bengali’ nor ‘Rohingya’, who are referred to as ‘Muslims’ or ‘the Muslim community in Rakhine’” (Annan Commission, 2017, p. 12).8 Given that fact, they have been confined within the camps in deplorable conditions, having no access to formal education, employment, health facilities and other basic rights. Over the time, some Rohingya however have managed to flee further from the confined camps to Chittagong city, seeking a higher level of safety, protection, shelter, and employment opportunity. There, more anonymity is possible. Using the ‘similar’ language, they try to hide their Rohingya identity. Historically, migration in this region has been an ongoing phenomenon since the pre-colonial period—long before the independence of Bangladesh and Burma.There are some signs in Chittagong that are evidence of early Rohingya settlements (e.g., Arakan road, Arakan society, Arakan mosque, Burma colonies, Alaol Hall at Chittagong University, etc.). The Chittagonian Bengali and Rohingya still have relatives across the border. The Rohingya people, who had emigrated from Burma in the early 1960s, have already been integrated into Bengali society over the years. Now, they are no more Rohingya but Bengali, and, enjoy all rights and access 381

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to facilities that other Bengalis do. However, the fate of the Rohingya who fled to Bangladesh recently is not the same. As mentioned above, the Bengali Muslims received the Rohingya warmly at first, for humanitarian reasons as an expression of sympathy for their neighbors and feelings of Muslim solidarity. While religious identity of the Rohingya is the leading cause of persecutions in Myanmar, it is also foremost in the response to the problem in Bangladesh.We found the effect even in the port city of Chittagong which is 150 km away from Cox’s Bazar. In the city, according to some Rohingya, the city dwellers were the first responders. So too were local authorities and several organizations which had been witnessing the incoming refugees for decades welcoming to the refugees. Rohingya who had settled in the 1970s (and were by now Bengali by citizenship), allowed them to squat on their lands and provided them with food and clothes. Likewise, many mosques and other religious organizations from different districts and cities raised money for the displaced Rohingya. I personally witnessed such an incident in Chittagong. As we found, there are two categories of Rohingya in the city: 1) Old Rohingya (now Bengali living in several Burma colonies in Chittagong city); and 2) Rohingya refugees (the new migrants, who were scattered throughout the city). One of our informants was a 60-year-old woman, who migrated to Bangladesh before its independence (1971) with her father. She has two sons working in Saudi Arabia and Qatar, one as an Imam and the other as an Arabic and English tutor.They send remittances regularly.They have Bangladeshi citizenship and permanent property in Chittagong. Another Rohingya informant is an engineer, but his family members do not live in the Burma colony, or with other Rohingya. Many do not know about their original identity but are known as Chittagonian Bengali and maintain permanent addresses and assets in the city. Since these “old” Rohingya speak in the Chittagonian language, people from other districts cannot differentiate whether they are Chittagonian or Rohingya. We met a number of Madrasa students who are originally Rohingya, and are now live as residential students in some Madrasas in Chittagong. There are also a number of Rohingya imam and moazzin in several mosques in the city, who live in particular mosques. Other people do not know much about their past. Also, a number of madrasa graduates have already managed to migrate to some Gulf countries and are doing jobs in mosques as imam, moazzin, and Quran/Arabic tutors in Arab families and schools. Given the similarities in physique, language, and religion, the Rohingya are relatively comfortable in the city; because they not only can hide their identity, but also can manage Bangladeshi citizenship through those city authorities who are sympathetic out of religious brotherhood. They also manage their citizenship through interethnic marriage, by marrying local women of the “old” Rohingya, a practice called “marriage migration” or “interethnic marriage”. One Bengali Muslim explained, “It is our religious responsibility to help the helpless Rohingyas through marriage.” In Islam, marrying helpless women is rewarding.“It is not just to help them for marriage but also save them from potential dangers such as sexual violence and trafficking,” added another Bengali man (an erstwhile Rohingya).The Rohingya girls also employ marriage as a strategy for survival in Bangladesh with citizenship. Thus, both parties find benefits from interethnic marriage. However, the government imposed a ban on interethnic marriage migration between Bangladeshi citizens and Rohingyas in 2014, citing the alarming trend of marriage and its abuses and misuses. One of the major reasons for the ban is that Rohingyas have used interethnic marriage as a ploy to gain Bangladeshi citizenship. Since both the Rohingya and Bengali are predominantly Muslims, there is no religious or legal restriction, except the 2014 ban, to get married to each other; hence, interethnic marriage has been one of the survival strategies of the Rohingya, which had been openly practiced until recently. However, Rohingya–Bengali marriage still occurs secretly, but at a limited number because of the ban. 382

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New migrants in Chittagong Historically the Chittagong city is known to the new Rohingya migrants, even to those who never visited it before.The dialect of the people of Chittagong region (Chittagonian) is very similar to that of the Rohingya. Physically there is similarity (Indo-Aryan/South Asian look, brown or black color) as well as having a common religion (Islam). Although as a city, Chittagong is not as welcoming to the new migrant Rohingya as Cox’s Bazar. It offers no space or facilities for the refugees; but, given the historical link and cultural resemblance, the displaced Rohingya find the city a place where they can move relatively freely compared to the refugee camps in Cox’s Bazar. Since their real identity is not apparent, they are like Chittagonian Bengali. Notwithstanding the government provided shelter and food in Cox’s Bazar, the Chittagong city authorities have never been positive toward integration of the Rohingya migrants. Here, again, it is the local people who provided for their basic human needs. The old Rohingya who had already got citizenship as Bangladeshis collaborated with the new Rohingya migrants. Newly arrived Rohingya were able to shelter at their ancestors/predecessor’s houses in a Burma colony in Chittagong.

Survival strategies in the city Given that neither the Bangladesh government nor the city authority allows Rohingyas to be integrated into the society or recognizes them as refugees, they try to integrate into the urban context through managing Bangladeshi citizenship and national ID cards ‘illegally’. Some have managed citizenship through interethnic migration, but these situations often involved polygamy, child marriage, or abandonment. Despite being ruled ‘illegal’, both sides find potential advantages from such marriages. The Rohingya families accept a polygamous arrangement or marry off their daughters to older Bengali men or ‘old’ Rohingya men, because they believe that marriages will ensure their survival in Bangladesh (RFA, 2017). Hiding identity is another strategy for the Rohingya migrants, which cultural resemblance enables them to do. However, this creates other problems. Although they can hide their identity by the agency of physical appearance and language, they have no knowledge in Bengali, cannot get education, and have no chance to get permanent jobs or health facilities. Unlike in the refugee camps, they do not get aid from international organizations in the city.

Means of livelihoods As mentioned above, Chittagong city does not offer support and resources for the refugees.They themselves manage their livelihoods facing several forms of discrimination in the city. Most of the Rohingya migrants are engaged in street vending—as they are not allowed to have permanent jobs, and they do not want to be identified as Rohingya, they choose a mobile business. They might work in small shops or factories, as security guards, day laborers, rickshaw pullers, housemaids, sweepers, transport workers, teaboy, and tokai (street children)—livelihoods that do not require formal office or authority.Women and girls are engaged mainly in garment manufacturing and street vending. Some women and girls work as domestic maids; some eventually become wives in Bengali families.The new migrants live with the fear of being arrested by the city police and sent to jail or refugee camps. But they want to live in the city where they can have an unrestricted life.To them,“nationalism or identity is secondary, our primary concern is survival”—“safe and security of life” (group interviews, October, 2019) 383

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Conclusion The current refugee crises across the world have brought to the fore claims of difference in ethnicity and religious identity. Religious identities play significant roles in the ongoing crises while religion has become the primary characteristic by which refugees are identified, imagined and understood in Asian countries. It is often a factor in the root of forced migrations of Rohingyas as thoroughly observed in Rakhine State of Myanmar. Nevertheless, religion can play its spirited roles in instigating conflict as well as social cohesion, and solidarity in humanitarian crises.Yet, religious baes of conflict, consequences, as well as religious interventions to crises have received little attention from scholars, policymakers and other stakeholders. Notwithstanding the longstanding ethnoreligious crisis of the Rohingya, this issue has so far received less research attention. Since the 1980s, the Rohingya have been an unfortunate ethnoreligious minority that has been considered a “problem,” as well as “outsiders” in both home and host countries. Decadeslong persecutions and ethnoreligious tensions reached a critical level in Rakhine in 2017. On the other hand, the Rohingya refugees have been supported as “distressed brothers” in Bangladesh. Religion both drove the Rohingya out of, but has also been an important factor in their survival in Bangladesh. Although most of the Rohingya currently enjoy refuge in Bangladesh, it does not provide them citizenship. In such a situation, a group of people cannot survive long.With limited resources and facilities, Bangladesh is unable to grant them human rights properly.As a result of the overwhelming effect of the protracted refugee situation, local Bengalis lost their jobs, and the surrounding environment is losing its natural resources.The bordering areas (e.g. Ukhia and Teknaf) have become unsafe. In addition, the spread of harmful drugs, including Yaba tablets, has led to various social problems in this coastal zone. However, with the influx of Rohingya, host cities are being reshaped over time. But the Bengali Muslims, religious infrastructure, sympathy and solidarity, Bangladeshi culture and customs as well as assistance, have all eased Rohingya’s access and shelter in Cox’s Bazar and Chittagong. Here religion supported them over their identity though they have had a historical tie with the Bangladeshis. It should be kept in mind that this longstanding crisis cannot be analyzed by a single factor alone and as a result, it cannot be resolved through a single line. In addition to the ethnoreligious factors, to fully understand and resolve the crisis, it is imperative to explore it in the context of rapidly evolving geopolitics in Rakhine State, in particular.There is a need for a comprehensive peace process, which recognizes the ethnic and religious diversity within Myanmar. Reasonably, religion is not simply responsible for the crisis but has an important role to play in responding to the crisis as well. Nevertheless, geopolitics and political economy are of significant concern behind the transnational crisis across the borders. Analyzing the findings of the study, I considered the sources of expulsion and integration of the Rohingya. Given the underlying factors that forced the Rohingya to flee from Myanmar to Bangladesh, I suggest that religious dissimilarity has been a leading cause of persecution in Myanmar, while religious similarity encouraged their flight to Bangladesh in particular, and their integration into the host cities. Given the role of religion in the Rohingya's persecution, I argue that religion is a possible resource to facilitate negotiations (e.g. inter-faith dialogue, religious insights and spirituality) toward a sustainable solution to the humanitarian crisis. In this situation, combining religious tolerance with human rights can lead to a lasting solution to the crisis that will be able to free the Rohingya from statelessness and refugee guilt, while at the same time freeing them from being dependent on humanitarian aid. Likewise, religious groups 384

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can create a unique path to the welfare of the human being and can make a real contribution. In virtue of religious ideology, morals and ethical standpoints, they can do betterment of all people— irrespective of race, language and religion— whether known, unknown, believers of own religion or people of other religions. This study endorses the role of religion in the current refugee crisis by suggesting that civil and not-so-civil theologies have taken over the public spheres (Bellah, 1967; Schmiedel and Smith, 2018). Interreligious initiatives could help in preventing potential conflict among different religious groups. The dialogue might allow a better understanding among the Rohingyas toward resolving the problem. Informal meetings of ordinary people, as well as with political or military personnel from both the Rohingya and Rakhine in both Arakan\Rakhine State and Cox's Bazar might be effective in understanding each other’s grievances, and eventually finding ways to solve the existing misunderstandings, and move toward a peaceful life like they had in the past.While people of different creeds share their common past (childhood memory), social gatherings, and their hopes for a bright future, this eventually may pave the way toward communal harmony and peaceful coexistence. It is widely recognized that, being a developing and densely populated country, Bangladesh is doing its best to support the refugees in the camps, but it has to do more in order to maximize the benefits from the migrants by providing them with basic rights such as access to education, permit to works, health services and other facilities they need to acclimate well in Cox’s Bazar and Chittagong.This eventually will ease the tension between the Bengali and Rohingya Muslims caused from the protracted refugee situation in Bangladesh. Although cities face challenges in integrating migrants and providing them basic services, employing proper management cities can also reap the maximum benefits of mobile talents. Toward that end, a change in policies and mindset is needed to take advantage of the full potential of migration. Given the huge number of Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh, the government should have clear position on the refugee issue because it has already become a permanent reality.Therefore, I urge for inclusion of the refugee issues in city planning, which will involve a much greater focus on city environment— both on permanent city dwellers and new migrants. In consequence, the Rohingya refugees will be a resource, rather than a burden. Religion and religious actors have important roles to play in the integration processes. Religious communities can make a real contribution to make the preferred cities livable for the forced migrants like the Rohingya. Not just praying for peace and shelter, religious organizations should speak out together against the oppressors, and of course, in favor of the persecuted people irrespective of class, race, language, and religion. In addition to the humanitarian aid for life-saving services, religious morals should be echoed so that the displaced migrants can survive well in cities.Together with humanitarian organizations, religious bodies can create a distinct and moral platform against systematic persecution and genocide against the Rohingya.Thence, the study urges for a moral insight of the religious groups employing interreligious contact and connection toward the crisis that will ensure mutual benefits for both forced migrants and cities.

Notes 1 Myanmar was renamed from Burma in 1989 by the then military government. Similarly, Arakan was officially renamed Rakhine State to emphasize the preeminence of the Rakhine Buddhists in this region disconnecting its past Islamic rules and its indigenous people Rohingya.Throughout the chapter, I alternatively use both official names of the region for two reasons. First, many still do not subscribe to the communal idea of the region religiously. Second, this study covers the people that still call the state Arakan.

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M Ala Uddin 2 Cox’s Bazar is famous for its long natural sandy sea beach, which has the world’s largest unbroken sea beach that stretches more than 120 km.A nearby island called St. Martin’s Island is located in the northeastern part of the Bay of Bengal, about 9 km south of the tip of the Cox’s Bazar–Teknaf peninsula. These make Cox’s Bazar one of the most visited tourist destinations in Bangladesh. 3 Cox’s Bazar is 1 of 20 (out of 64) identified “lagging districts” of Bangladesh, and the Ukhia and Teknaf upazilas are among the 50 most socially deprived upazilas (out of 509). Difficult terrain, bad roads, and insufficient infrastructure contribute to poor living conditions. It is also considered as an Ecologically Critical Area (ECA). Biodiversity in Cox’s Bazar ECAs is under severe threat as a result of rapid and unplanned commercialization and tourism development. While Bangladesh is subject to serious climate change, this region faces the worst in terms of flood and storm damage, undermining the local population’s resilience and livelihoods.The region is under threat as settlements have been established there for Rohingyas, clearing hills and forests. Rohingya camps are situated near the Protected Areas (PA) of Teknaf Wildlife Sanctuary (TWS) and other National Parks in Inani and Himchari.These areas have already suffered degradation, and expansion of the camps is likely to result in significant ecological impact as forest and agricultural land is converted to establish housing, schools, water supply, and sanitation facilities. 4 The Rohingyas are an ethnic mix of Bengali, Persian, Mughal,Turk, and Pathan, whereas the majority of Burmese citizens are of Mongoloid origin and Buddhist (88%). 5 Rohingya speak an Indo-Aryan language belonging to the Bengali-Assamese subgroup, particularly the Chittagonian language spoken in southeastern Bangladesh (Chittagong-Cox’s Bazar region), with sprinklings of Urdu, Hindi, and Arabic words. Most residents of Myanmar speak in Burmese language—a Sino-Tibetan language, which is an official language and the language of the Bamar people, the country’s principal ethnic group. 6 Rohingya are overwhelmingly Muslims, mostly belonging to the Sunni Sect.There is also an insignificant number of Hindus and Christian Rohingyas (less than 1%). 7 The Gambia, an African Muslim country has taken Myanmar to the court in The Hague as the first attempt to accuse it of breaching the 1948 UN Genocide convention and seeking emergency measures to protect the Rohingya. 8 In September 2016, following a request from Aung San Suu Kyi, the Kofi Annan Foundation and the Office of the State Counsellor established an Advisory Commission on Rakhine State. The Commission submitted their report on August 23, 217 to the Myanmar government just two days before the atrocities took place against the Rohingya.

Bibliography Abrar, C.R.“Caravan of the Dispossessed.” The Daily Star.Accessed November 22, 2017. www.thedailystar. net/in-focus/caravan-the-dispossessed-1493692. Ahmed, I., ed., The Plight of the Stateless Rohingyas: Responses of the State Society & the International Community (Dhaka: University Press Limited, 2010). ACAPS.“Rohingya Crisis: Host Community Review Thematic Report.” (2018). www.acaps.org/specialreport/rohingya-crisis-host-communities-review Annan Commission (The Advisory Commission on Rakhine State). “Towards a Peaceful, Fair and Prosperous Future for the People of Rakhine.” August 2017. www.rakhinecommission.org/app/ uploads/2017/08/FinalReport_Eng.pdf Bellah, R. “Civil Religion in America.” Journal of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences (Religion in America) 96, no. 1 (1967): pp. 1–21. Cower-Smith, Yuriko. “The Global Rohingya Diaspora—Lifelines to Bangladesh and Myanmar.” 2019. Accessed November 17, 2020. https://reliefweb.int/report/myanmar/global-rohingya-diaspora-life lines-bangladesh-and-myanmar. Fortify Rights. “Policies of Persecution, Ending Abusive State Policies Against Rohingya Muslims in Myanmar.” Accessed February 28, 2014. https://reliefweb.int/report/myanmar/policies-persecutionending-abusive-state-policies-against-rohingya-muslims-myanmar; www.fortifyrights.org/downloads/ Policies_of_Persecution_Feb_25_Fortify_Rights.pdf. HRW (Human Rights Watch). “Perilous Plight: Burma’s Rohingya Take to the Seas.” 2009. Accessed November 17, 2020. www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/reports/burma0509_brochure_web.pdf. Karim, A. The Rohingyas:A Short Account of Their History and Culture (Dhaka: Jatiya Sahitya Prakash, 2016).

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The Rohingya refugee crisis Minahan, J.B. Ethnic Groups of South Asia and the Pacific:An Encyclopedia (Ethnic Groups of the World) (Santa Barbara, CA:ABC-CLIO, 2012). Miko,V. and Hammond, C. “The World’s Largest Refugee Camp Is Becoming a Real City.” September 28, 2019. www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2019-09-27/how-the-rohingya-refugee-camp-turnedinto-a-city Pittaway, E. “The Rohingya Refugees in Bangladesh: A Failure of the International Protection Regime.” In Protracted Displacement in Asia: No Place to Call Home, ed., H.Adelman (Farnham, UK:Ashgate, 2008), pp. 83–104. Rahman,A.“The Rohingya Question.” The Daily Star, Dhaka, June 16, 2012. Rashid, S. R. Uncertain Tomorrows. Livelihoods, Capital, and Risk in Labour Migration from Bangladesh (Dhaka: The University Press, 2016). RFA (Radio Free Asia).“Marriage an Uncertain Path to Citizenship for Rohingya Refugees in Bangladesh.” January 27, 2017. www.refworld.org/docid/58f9ca9810.html Schmiedel, U. and Smith, G., eds, Religion in the European Refugee Crisis (Palgrave Macmillan, 2018). UN (UN News). “UN human rights chief points to ‘textbook example of ethnic cleansing’ in Myanmar”. Accessed September 11, 2017. https://news.un.org/en/story/2017/09/564622-unhuman-rights-chief-points-textbook-example-ethnic-cleansing-myanmar

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27 SUPER-DIVERSITY INSIDE AND OUTSIDE OF CONGREGATIONS IN ELMHURST, QUEENS Richard Cimino and Hans Tokke1

On the night of September 11, 2001, on a drive along Broadway through the heart of Queens, NY, one would notice a vast blanket of flickering memorial candle lanterns.The front yard of the Reformed Church of Newtown in the center of the Elmhurst neighborhood morphed into a gathering place for locals to express their shock and pain at the attacks on the World Trade Center towers earlier that day. Crossing numerous racial, religious, and ethnic identities, they joined in collaborative grieving and memory.This singular event starkly represents the vast super-diversity in the Elmhurst community, where one’s urban identity crosses boundaries between self-segregation alongside pluralistic neighborliness. Since that day, the influx of immigrants from all corners of the globe into this cultural morass is causing people to find places of comfort among people most like themselves while simultaneously engaging the differences between neighbors. In recent years the concept of “super-diversity”2 has received increasing attention in urban sociology, but research has mainly focused on ethnic super-diversity more than its religious aspects. Vertovec defines super-diversity as an obvious and enormous growth of ethnic and religious diversity driven by migration. In this chapter, we plan to look at super-diversity in a particular part of New York City and how this relates to religious communities, as well as how people regularly cross the border between the parochial life of their religious and cultural identity and the broader heterogeneous society surrounding them. Using the framework of religious ecology, we are particularly interested in how congregations and other groups relate to their neighborhoods. How do they respond to this diversity in their ministries to their own congregants and to those outside their walls, and how do they interact with other faith communities? Further, to what degree do individuals follow the utopic ideal of pluralism as they live their lives within their own enclave? Further still, we are interested in observing how people intersect their private lives within the broader environment, particularly religious spaces. Elmhurst is very diverse, with 100 languages being spoken in its schools. There are 11 different language translators available on demand at the local hospital. On a micro level, neighborhood blocks consist of small ethnic enclaves and, as we will show, congregations are often based on rituals and forms that are not necessarily inclusive of different ethnic backgrounds, denominations, and religions.There is a civil yet separate coexistence, which is a pattern not unique to Elmhurst or even New York.3 We are particularly interested in how faith communities position themselves in a neighborhood that has undergone super-diversity. 388

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Micro-communities in the meta-neighborhood Elmhurst, viewed as likely the most diverse neighborhood on earth due to its in-migration, out-migration, immigration, and urbanization, consists of micro-communities with distinct social, cultural, and religious identities within the meta-neighborhood of super-diversity, in which no one group dominates. Commerce responds with a plethora of businesses and meeting places. The following vignette of a walk from Roosevelt Avenue Station into the heart of the neighborhood illustrates this. After getting off the Subway at Roosevelt Avenue Station from the Forest Hills-bound R train, exiting on the Broadway and Roosevelt Avenue side, immediately one sees the ALCC4 English Learning Center, authorized under federal law to enroll non-immigrant students. Right next to the subway station there is a Pacific Supermarket that sells mainly Asian food and products.Alfonso Bar and Sabay Thai restaurant are next to each other and, across the street, there is the Nepal America Cultural Association, established in 2009.There is Fay Da Chinese bakery, one of the shops of a New York franchise. Right next to the newsstand is a small pizza place.The name of the store has worn off due to aging, but a prominent hand-written sign indicating $1.00 slice cheese pizza draws a line of about 20 people waiting to be served: Hispanic, Indian, Bengalis,Whites, Chinese, and some African Americans. A Bengali bakery shop is located on the corner selling different types of Bengali pastries, along with different flavored cookies and cakes, making it a great dessert spot for all ethnic groups. They also serve Bangladeshi special milk tea which attracts more Bengali and Indian customers to the stores just to order a cup of tea for evening snacks. There are jewelry stores clustered together nearby serving a crowd of mostly South Asian women. A Muslim woman dressed in a burka stands in front of the mirror trying out neck chains that appear to be heavy. A woman with her in similar clothing compliments her in a foreign language. The American corporate giant Walgreen Pharmacy breaks the multi-cultural streetscape. At the end of the block is a Korean restaurant called Haewoondae and the Asian-oriented Queen Sauna in the same building. Next comes the Abocados Law office, specializing in accidents and immigration cases for the Hispanic population. The small private Elmhurst Pharmacy is next door, with five different languages on its sign. Next is Scholastic Prep Inc. (SPI), which offers several classes for SAT/ PSAT and ACT5 test preparation. Elmhurst Hospital is on the next block, with its signs, patients, and employees that reflect its super-diversity. Opposite the hospital is Chase Bank, another indication of American corporate interest. At the Frank O’Connor Playground, people of many races sit on benches while others play, including an Asian man doing an exercise resembling Tai Chi. One is greeted with Spanish accents by a group of Jehovah’s Witnesses with booklets in their hands. The United States Post Office of Elmhurst is next, followed by Manhattan Pediatric Associates and an acupuncture office named Natural Healing Center. The tour concludes with a dental Office, a Dunkin’ Donuts, Himalayan restaurant, iCook Chinese hotpot restaurant, Chai Time bubble tea shop, Shun Wang restaurant, and Top Line supermarket on Broadway.What is apparent is an intermixing of businesses appealing to various micro-communities alongside American corporate companies serving assimilated immigrants.This illustrates this phenomenon of micro and meta-communities operating simultaneously.

Religious ecology and super-diversity There are different processes that take place in a religious ecology; new institutions are born but they can also die, depending on how they relate to neighborhood change.Adaptation, com389

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petition, and cooperation are important ways that neighborhood organizations can survive and grow in the urban ecology.6 Congregations can fill niches based on their geographical location in a neighborhood and its demographics, as well as their ties to the wider city. The religious ecological model also asks about the social capital generated and invested in the neighborhood by religious organizations. Do they mainly create “bonding” social capital, where congregations create strong in-group ties and resources, or do they generate social capital that bridges across differences of religion, ethnicity, and social class? With the development of urban culture, neighborhoods wrestle between holding on to their culture and identity while grappling with the diversity of the larger context. On the one hand, people are integrated into the machine of urban life, which brings freedom to live out a unique social identity.7 Conversely, they invest in human relationships in their community of people most like them.8 This is true of residents in Elmhurst who split their time between commuting into Manhattan, with its mass of synchronized systems, and slipping back into a neighborhood restaurant or to a religious place for an intimate meal with close friends after work or on weekends. Park and Burgess in their theory of urban ecology described urban neighborhoods not as stagnant alien spaces but vital concentrations of cultural and ethnic life. Neighborhoods evolve and change socially as people migrate in and out, even as the buildings and streets are permanent. The lifeblood of a city is this movement that forces social interactions of race, culture, ethnicity, resulting in both conflict and cooperation.9 The interactions forge social bonding that bridges differences—a process that builds social capital. The results are ethnic enclaves where people are drawn to those most like themselves.10 Abrahamson writes, Enclaves are only partially maintained by the inducements they offer or by the desires of residents to remain in homogeneous concentrations. Segregation also results from people living outside the enclave pressuring those inside the enclave to preserve their own neighborhoods by keeping out various categories of people they consider undesirable.11 He describes how urban enclaves persist in the supposed impersonal urban culture. Urban spaces have life when people gather for a common social interaction with people bonded by kinship tied to other core groups of people of the same nationality, common language and culture, the same churches, and church-related organizations. These form as core groups into what have been called “old-world villages,”12 “Third Places,” that become locations in the neighborhood where people interact in the parochial realm.13 Tonnies in his classic work notes there are types of collective life that hold the community together.14 Similarly, Jacobs15and Gans16 agree that street interaction in ethnic neighborhoods build fraternal order and social structure.The “fraternal order” is clearly a strong element in the identification with specific religious groups that are immersed not only in religious experiences but woven into the local culture. Thus, people in a religious community derive their energy17 from the core values that provide social cohesion for the formation of its folkways, laws, religious rituals, and the like18. From this center, they create individual expressions to fit within the ethical and religious constraints of their faith. Likewise, people in Elmhurst, immersed within the intense mosaic of social and cultural diversity, find places to forge rituals and forms that make them feel a part of a more specific identity.A religious space is one of these primary places. Collins’ concepts of Interaction Rituals (IR) and Emotional Entrainment (EE) is a useful analytical filter for understanding how people in micro-communities define themselves over time in living out social and religious rituals.19 At every religious meeting or event, congregants use various rituals to interact socially in order to enhance their own feelings about themselves 390

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and gain positive encouragement from attending together. This good feeling emerges from a collage of religious-type rituals wherein the patterns are ongoing. Similar to how people build a collective conscience and community through emotional connection, religious spaces provide opportunities to bond through various rituals and traditions.This brings life to the community and sustains relationships. For instance, long-time Burmese residents in Elmhurst who attend the religious gatherings (whether Muslim, Buddhist, or Christian), use it just as a way to support their ethnic community and national identity, to enhance their positive experience of being an immigrant, and to preserve social bonds with others.They build repetitive rituals (IR) and, in repeating the same chants, retain a sense of tradition with the historical past while simultaneously being emotionally energized (EE) by being at a congregational meeting. Similarly, though they might have long moved out of the neighborhood, congregants continue to “come back” to older established congregations.

The geography of religion in Elmhurst Congregations are concentrated in three areas of Elmhurst, with these clusters marked by different approaches to diversity. The first cluster is along Queens Boulevard, the main artery in Elmhurst that runs across much of Central and Western Queens. Here are the two largest and most prominent Christian churches in the area—New Life Fellowship, the Rock Church, and the First Presbyterian Church of Newtown, the oldest congregation in Western Queens and a pioneer in establishing a multi-cultural ministry in the area. Also in this first cluster is the Islamic Center of Elmhurst, one block north of Queens Boulevard. The second cluster is north of Queens Boulevard on Broadway. Here we see the rest of the mainline Protestant Christian churches, including the historic Reformed Church of Newtown (Newtown being the name of the village dating from the mid-1600s that later became much of Elmhurst), and St. James Episcopal Church. Further north is the large multi-ethnic St. Bartholomew’s Catholic Church, as well as more ethnic-specific congregations, including the historic Elmhurst Baptist Church (which is largely Filipino), the Chinese Bethany Lutheran and Grace Chinese Lutheran Churches, the Chinese Christian Testimony Church, several independent Latino churches, a Korean evangelical church, the Jain Center of New York; and then a few blocks away are the Zen Buddhist Chan Meditation Center, a Thai Buddhist Temple, and the Geeta Hindu Temple. One recent survey counted 189 religious sites within Community District 4, encompassing Elmhurst, East Elmhurst, and Corona, with 80 Protestant churches, and 24 New Age, Botanica, and Psychic groups.20 We limited our study in Elmhurst to identifiable congregations but attempted to represent the diversity in this section of Queens. From September 2018 to November 2019, we conducted ethnographic research throughout Elmhurst, including observations in congregations, and interviews with religious leaders or participants conducted in English, Chinese, and Spanish.We studied 16 congregations more intensely, including Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist (2), Jain, Roman Catholic (2), Presbyterian, Lutheran (ELCA), Christian and Missionary Alliance, non-denominational (charismatic and non-charismatic; 2), American Baptist, Episcopal, and Wesleyan. The interviews and ethnographic observations were conducted between September 2018 and November 2019.

Different diversities in Elmhurst From the 1990s onward, institutional survival meant that formerly all-white churches had to become multi-ethnic. Today we see that this diversification takes place within congregations 391

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as well as within ethnic groups in their immediate context, as is seen in St. James Episcopal Church and the Reformed Church of Newtown. Both congregations were established during the eighteenth century and, along with First Presbyterian, represented the white mainline establishment in Elmhurst (a Methodist and Christian Science church had already shut their doors by the mid-1990s). At the Reformed Church, the ethnic succession has shifted from a white, mainly Dutch-American membership, to a racially mixed congregation in the 1980s, and then becoming a Taiwanese and more recently a growing Fujianese Chinese church today. When the congregation was in a state of decline in the 1980s, a non-denominational evangelical Taiwanese church had rented the historic building.When the former membership declined, the church was given to the Taiwanese congregation, provided they join the Reformed Church in America denomination.The church has an attendance of about 450 today, with about 140 at its Taiwanese service, 160 at its Fujianese dialect service, and 120 at its English service (which has many second-generation Asians).The Taiwanese and English services have been stable in attendance, while the Fujianese service has grown by 150–200 in the last 4 years, reflecting a new wave of Fujanese immigrants into Elmhurst.There is also a minority of Filipinos, Bhutanese, Indians, Latinx, and African American members. The pastor, one of the few whites in the congregation, noted that most of the ethnic diversity in Elmhurst is north of Queens Boulevard on Broadway, and the church has struggled to reflect this demographic shift, which now includes not only different Chinese groups but Indonesians, Melanesians,Tibetans, Burmese,Vietnamese, and Thai people.The pastor envisions the increasing diversity in the congregation as reflective of the diversity of Queens, including Latinos and African Americans as well as Asians. But the church has had limited success in reaching these groups.This is a point of contention with his congregation, many of whom want to retain its Asian character. My perspective is different.The Christian ethic is to go to all nations; it’s not just about ourselves. We shouldn’t be comfortable with just being Asian. It’s a tension everyone feels.Within the RCA, we seem so diverse, but within the congregation, we don’t feel that diverse.21 The Taiwanese members and leaders’ strong stake in the congregation has created a rift with the newcomers from China. At one point, the Taiwanese members and leaders formally suggested that the Fujianese newcomers leave the church and start their own congregation.The situation is still tense, with the different groups keeping to themselves, a problem intensified by language barriers.The pastor promotes activity that seeks to engage the neighborhood. He wants more outside groups to use the building for neighborhood functions but faces opposition from the Taiwanese members. However, the congregation does run health fairs, a popular vacation Bible school and Chinese school. The church has worked in a homeless shelter, though that has brought resistance from some members. “We have to have lots and lots of conversations about everything … It’s exhausting.” The pastor sees the mission as uniting the church but has learned that it is not necessary to do joint activities or worship. He said,“We see unity as supporting each other rather than doing things together which can just create frustration and a lack of unity!” The ethnic makeup at St. James is similar to that of the Reformed Church, with a largely white membership being succeeded by an Asian one. Members of Caribbean descent experienced a similar sense of loss as whites earlier did when an increasing number of Asians joined the church. Father Paul, who is Chinese himself, described the church as reflecting the neighborhood, with an Asian membership that is predominantly Chinese, but also includes Indonesians. There is a Chinese language service at 9:30 followed by an English service at 11:00 where 392

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members of different ethnicities, including Latinos, some whites, and African Americans, attend. Father Paul’s idea of diversity is somewhat different than that of the Reformed pastor. He believes that God created diversity of races and ethnicities. In a similar way, he adds that it is “crucial that the church reflects the makeup of the community. It has to make itself available to different cultural groups—Christian or not.” The priest has modeled his ministry on such inclusiveness, making the church a community center for a wide range of different activities: Indonesian food bazaars, summer performances on the church lawn, immigrant counseling, Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations for the neighborhood, lunar new year celebrations, health fairs, voting drives, and education classes. The intent is both to bring the different ethnic groups together and to enact social betterment and change in the community.The church maintains links with Anglicans in Africa and Hong Kong for relief efforts, as well as with other Episcopalian churches domestically. The church’s strong stand on diversity has caused some divisions. Twenty years ago, a contingent of members left over the congregation’s embrace of gay rights. Unlike the Reformed Church across the street, St. James has opened its doors to Buddhist services and rituals; as the priest says “We all believe in the same God.We can’t say God is only for us.” But the parish has made a conscious decision not to let other Christian groups use its building. Such sharing of the building tends to create competition for members between the different ethnic congregations. Churches and temples in Elmhurst are open to hosting cultural niche groups outside their usual congregants, in response to the shifts in the neighborhood. A good example of this is St. James Episcopal Church hosting the Myanmar Cultural Club Burmese Food Fair National Humanitarian fundraising event. St. James’ Hall is quickly filled as attendees sample various ethnic dishes offered by different vendors. Each wall of the hall is filled with advertisements for the food shops. Selections include rice, noodle soup, stirred fried noodle, Burmese chicken biryani, traditional Burmese desserts, and fermented tea leaf salads.The majority of people who come to the food fair live in the surrounding neighborhood and seem to know one another. Few people come alone, and most are with their families, representing a span of ages from 4 to 80 years. Most of the volunteers and vendors are in the 25 to 35 age bracket and are cleaning tables, organizing the stage, and working at the counter. This event reflects how family, culture, faith, and neighborhood micro-relationships find a religious space that is not necessarily of differing faith traditions, reflecting the American ideal of diversity and inclusion.The people at the food fair may not think in these terms at all, but are simply enjoying an inter-cultural event while maintaining their own ethnic identity. A different model of how neighborhood religious diversity is approached can be seen in the century-old Elmhurst Baptist Church. The American Baptist congregation regularly opens its building to other congregations, including an Indonesian Baptist (which is affiliated with the more conservative Southern Baptist Convention), a Burmese Baptist, and a Hispanic Pentecostal church. Although the congregation has been socially active in the neighborhood for much of its past, a fire in the church in the early 2000s had made the building less available to neighborhood use, according to its Filipino pastor. Since he arrived in 2009, he has tried to encourage the congregation to be more open to the community.At the same time, he has found that members have shown greater openness to “questions about the Bible and doctrine” that have led them to engagement in social issues, such as immigration.The 100-member church has hosted seminars on immigration and migrant workers’ rights, health fairs, a Burmese food bazaar, and historical walking tours in Elmhurst. Elmhurst Baptist has a diverse membership consisting largely of Filipinos, but also some Latin Americans, and those from Caribbean countries from the surrounding neighborhood, although the pastor said he does not see the need to preach on or openly advocate for diversity. 393

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It’s our life here. Even among the Filipinos, there are different dialects that we have in the church. Some Sundays we may have people dress in their cultural garb and bring in food from their various ethnicities … It’s not something fabricated or something we have to show off.22 The challenge is to find ways to communicate and encourage respect across racial, ethnic, and age differences outside of the Filipino community. He adds that unity in the congregation is found in the message, but it “can also be produced in the process of working on something in common.” An example of this is the Kachin Food Fair held there. Kachin is one of the states from Myanmar whose immigrants are usually granted asylum or war refugee status in the United States. The small event is held in the basement hall of the church; it truly is a micro-community.Twelve counters display various ethnic foods including noodle, tofu sauce, rice, sticky rice snacks, some meat dishes, and fish dishes. In front of the hall, there is a stage with musical instruments and displays of Kachin traditional suits and dress. Most of the people who come to event speak the Kachin language, and some perform on the stage and play keyboard sing in Burmese, then in Kachin.This provides an emotionally gratifying, ritualistic cultural participation experience for those who might not find this small micro-community elsewhere in the great expanse of Queens and the wider city. Some who attended the event were not from the local neighborhood. People who came to the event were Kachin, Myanmar-born Chinese, Burmese, and a few Caucasian. After eating, people sat for a while, said their goodbyes, and left making no connection with Elmhurst Baptist Church per se. Directly across the street is St. Bartholomew’s Catholic Church, and a few steps further the Chinese Christianity Testimony Church, the Jain Center of New York, and some Spanishlanguage churches. As with the cluster of congregations on Broadway and on Queens Boulevard, we found little interaction, let alone cooperation, among them. Pantoja said that ecumenical and interfaith cooperation has been a neglected part of Elmhurst Baptist’s ministry, something he hopes will change. He added that his challenge of super-diversity is to encourage “people to have an understanding of other faiths and churches and help them respond to other groups and people … to evolve to try and see that what may be seen as a danger to the faith can be positive.” This might be the desire of the American pluralistic ideal, and indeed the theological position of many religious leaders, but for people working in the super-diversity of the city throughout the week, religious services to them are the means to get away from the meta-community that seems to dilute ethnic identity and engage with people of their own background. The case of New Life Fellowship, a large church that is affiliated with the Christian and Missionary Alliance (although it does not cite this affiliation in church publications and its web site), presents yet another approach to diversity. The church, with approximately 1,000 congregants, has joined contemplative spirituality with evangelical Christian theology while proclaiming its commitment to multi-ethnic church life. But the kind of diversity promoted within the church is not so much about reflecting the neighborhood as much as a metropolitan focus. This could be seen in the broad reach of the congregation—its home fellowship groups may well be the most far flung in New York for a single congregation, meeting in the five boroughs as well as the suburbs of Westchester and Long Island. New Life has also filled a niche of reaching out and ministering to second-generation Latino and Asian youth, where they can find an alternative to their ethnic traditions and churches.The young adults from ethnic churches often reported appreciating the ethnic diversity there and freedom from traditional expectations they experienced. Sarah, a young Korean-American who grew up in a Korean church said when she first attended New Life, she felt like it was, 394

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not like any other church I had been to before. I looked around the room and saw that it was very diverse—not a token two people like I had witnessed before. People are very joyful in their worship and also earnest from what I gathered…I realized that not everyone was not the same as me … [New Life] is different from the monoethnic churches I have been to, which are rigid and rule-based. In this church we favor freedom.23 Of course, being assimilated and comfortable in the broader urban mosaic and getting their emotional energy (EE)24 from difference, it makes sense why they are critical of insular congregations with more recent immigrants, such as the Christian Testimony Church. At the Chan Meditation Center, a Zen Buddhist temple, there is an interesting interplay of American and Asian religious identities. Chan Meditation Center is a crowded room mainly with Asian members, listening to a Buddhist monk lecturing in Chinese with English translation. The few whites who sit upfront are not converts who had joined this Asian temple, but original members from the 1980s. Chinese members were the newcomers who flocked to the temple after hearing of the Taiwanese founder’s reputation.Although unusual for Zen Buddhism in New York, there has been Asian ethnic succession at Chan Meditation Center. Members report that the older whites get along with the Chinese newcomers, although there are also younger whites coming for meditation, most likely from the adjacent neighborhoods undergoing gentrification. Buddhists are not only found in organized temples. On “Donation Day”25 at a local monk’s home, a small group of Burmese family and friends gather at the home-based monastery and make donations for support of the monk. It is a ritual event that takes place every month. On that day, the monk welcomes and invites people in along with the donating family.After warming the food up, people prepare the food table in front of the monk.While food is being prepared, invited guests start to arrive and join in with preparation, cleaning plates, making coffee, and cutting fresh fruit. In traditional gender roles, women are in the kitchen while men are sitting in the living room sharing updates about politics and their families. Older men and women talk to the monk who is sitting at the end of the hall. Two hours later the monk gathers the people and says the Ngar Par Thila (five basic principles of Buddha), with the people responding. The lunch table is set up and everyone circles around the food table, lifts up the table, and repeats after the monk the “donating dedication.” As well as those honored for their special donation that day, other people also bring food to donate. In the end there are a total of 23 dishes and rice on the table, including chicken curry, beef curry, soup, and fried fish which everyone enjoys. At the conclusion, after most have left, the donating family members clean the food table, wrap the leftovers, clean the living room and kitchen, wash dishes, and take out the trash. In small micro-groups like this the home culture is remembered, reenacted, and sustained within the context of religious beliefs.This monk’s house bridges the boundary between private and parochial space. His niche meeting is a different group than those that meet at the temple, though there are ethnic similarities between the people. Importantly, in a super-diverse metaenvironment such as Elmhurst, micro-groups find and sustain social identities for immigrants. The interaction rituals (IR) of Buddhism provide a context for continuing to participate in a consistent event that brings an emotional (EE) connection between the monk, the people, families, and culture.26 Even in congregations with an ethnic majority, there is considerable interest and support for diversity, even if it is defined in other than ethnic terms. The Jain Center of New York in Elmhurst serves over 1,000 Jains, mostly first- and second-generation Indians. But the four-story 395

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houses of several different Sikh temples are close by and convey a “unity in diversity.” However, even here they have little interaction with their context. Many of its members commute from other parts of the city and suburbs so the structural unity is largely symbolic. Speaking of the diversity in Elmhurst, the pastor of the Korean Hanbit Church said “It is good. The Korean church needs to cooperate, for example, more with Hispanic and Chinese churches. This church can serve as the mission center for diverse ethnic groups in Elmhurst.” The church, which is a member of the Wesleyan denomination, has a lunch program open to every ethnic group, although few non-Koreans attend. The church participates in ELCOS (Elmhurst Community Service), a multi-faith, multi-ethnic organization.The pastor added that the church provides their old building to the Christians from Bangladesh and Indonesia to use. But he went on to say that “Other than that, we don’t have any close ties with other churches in Elmhurst.”The fact that only about 30 to 40 members of the 200-member congregation live in Elmhurst may be a factor that limits Hanbit Church’s involvement with other congregations. Om Shakti Hindi Temple is located about three blocks away. At the beginning of the meeting, almost all at the same time, about 100 men and women walked in together and took their seats to prepare for the ceremony. Of the 100 who gather for worship, most are Bangladeshi immigrants, with the rest being Indian and Nepalese.The Brahman (the temple leader) begins the ceremony by lighting Día to perform arathi, a Hindu religious ritual of worship. In offering Dia to the gods, Brahman songs of praise to the Gods (deity) are sung while light is being offered. After the ceremony is complete, the devotees prepare for the meditation session by separating into various idol rooms.The space where the services were being held on the floor is restricted to visitors, although researchers were treated as “invited strangers.”27 This worship is intimate and personal. Each of the idol sectors were organized based on variations in the ethnic rituals native to a region in the homeland. Although each of the temple sectors had fruits and flowers, chanting music playing, ways of dress and worship ritual differed, some being more colorful than others. The people were seated or standing. There was rice on the floor in one of the sectors and a crystal mountain in another. Other devotees inside the temple listened to recorded chanting playing in the background, repeating saying “haree om!” In the kitchen area four volunteers were preparing the meal known as “prasad” for the devotees.The temple ensured continuity of deeply held cultural and religious traditions that had existed in the same form for centuries were intensely private, and a world away from the super-diverse urban businesses just outside the door. For devotees, this was clearly a way to get away from diversity to engage in a particular religious life through interactive rituals with the Brahman, other devotees, the idols, and a religious meal. St. Bartholomew’s Catholic Church is the largest congregation in Elmhurst. Originally an Irish parish, about 4,000 to 4,500 people now attend the mass here. In response to waves of new immigrants in the last decade, they have added six masses in Spanish with three masses on Saturday and three masses on Sunday. Two masses are delivered in Chinese every month, with an added mass in Tagalog and Indonesian. Spanish and Bengali are also spoken in the congregation. The priest admitted that people self-segregate at Mass by ethnic group. But in another sense, St. Bartholomew’s Catholic Church can be considered as a case study in unity in diversity. In an interview after officiating at a Spanish-language Mass, Jose, a recently appointed deacon in the parish, said that In food and celebrations you see diversity but not in the mass, the mass unifies people. Now people from Asia we don’t coincide with because we don’t eat what they eat, we don’t do what they do. But inside the church, especially if it is a Mass in English,

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there are no differences, we celebrate the same … even though for example Filipinos celebrate the Virgin differently than the way we do.28 Daniel, an 80-year-old usher who has lived in Elmhurst 43 years, echoed Jose’s comment, saying People from the church interact among themselves. People from different Hispanic countries talk even though there are words that not all of them use in the same way. What I call the Chinese are respectful people who work and mind their business without interfering with anyone.29 The segmentation that Jose and Daniel see even in the parish is subordinated to the transcendent unity brought about by the Mass rituals. So while self-segregation into micro-communities is one story, there is also considerable unity seen in a simple gesture that worshippers wear name tags so that even if the people are not able to communicate with each other, they would at least know each other’s names.“We also have a few small Haitian communities.” Most of the people who originate from Indonesia in Elmhurst tend to be Christians, even though it is a largely Islamic country.“They feel persecuted in their country, so they are applying for asylum.”Those from Bangladesh are also facing the same fate. However, he argues that other Muslims are living in the neighborhood and there are no problems with persecution of their Christian ethnic neighbors. There are a couple of Mosques in the community. They are not noticeable because they are houses, but they are drawing about 200 men on a Friday afternoon.You see the men going in the dresses that they wear. I have a little recollection of the Jain Center. I had been there twice.30

Managing super-diversity in the religious ecology Any kind of significant neighborhood change calls for a response from its existing institutions, but recent research suggests that congregations do more than just adapt to changes in their social ecology. They also exercise considerable agency as they seek the resources of people, money, buildings, and geographic locations to survive and carry out their mission.31 Congregations founded to serve one particular ethnicity may have to retool their missions and fill new niches created by rapid ethnic succession. In a sense, congregations undergo a double adaptation and exercise dual agency—having to deal with the super-diversity in their neighborhoods as well as the diversity within their own walls. Most of the congregations and clergy adapted to neighborhood diversity in Elmhurst quite well; they saw it as a positive development that provided new opportunities for ministry. There was little reported conflict between congregations and their neighborhoods or between congregations (though there was not much cooperation either, a subject we will return to at the conclusion of this chapter). Those congregations that had all-white memberships prior to the 1980s and 1990s invested time and energy, at least initially, to welcome and attempt to integrate those from different ethnicities into their faith communities. But how successful they were in adapting to super-diversity and expressing their agency depended on a repertoire of resources, histories, theologies, and practices, not to mention their geographic locations in the neighborhood. On the latter dimension, we found that the clustering of congregations in at least three centers or “religious districts”32 throughout Elmhurst allowed worshippers to intermingle (if not

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verbally interact) and at least view each other as pursuing religious lives. Few of the religious minority congregations could survive by serving a single ethnicity, and so they found ways to broaden their ministry to those of other nationalities and national regions; the changing ministry of the once strongly Polish Catholic St. Adalbert’s Church and school welcoming a large number of Filipino worshippers and students is only one such example.The Jain Center serves a diversity of Jains from various traditions and regions of India through its multi-temple structure. The Korean church seems concentrated on one ethnicity, yet its social ministry seeks to include the Chinese and Hispanic populations in the area. However, the small group ritual meetings such as the Buddhist Donation Day, the New Life Home Bible Studies, Hindi temple rooms, or Kachin Food Fair counter this. People like small Interaction Rituals with people most like themselves. The congregations sought to fill what can be called “generalist” and “specialist” niches relating to neighborhood diversity, which is often shaped by their location but also by available resources, historical traditions, and theology.33 The large “generalist” congregations along Queens Boulevard of New Life Fellowship and the Rock Church seek a kind of diversity that transcends even Elmhurst and reaches out to all of Queens and even the wider metropolitan area. In some cases, religious teachings and practices are disassociated from their ethnic traditions and offered in a more generic form than found in specialist congregations.This is clearly seen in the prosperity teachings of the non-denominational Rock Church and the way New Life borrows from Catholic traditions of contemplative spirituality and offers them to secondgeneration Hispanic and Asian evangelical Christians.The historic First Presbyterian Church of Newtown was the first church in the area to embrace a multi-cultural identity, and although diminished in size and influence, its central location reinforces its decades-old civic and church traditions, such as “international night” and Christmas tree lighting.The small Islamic Center of Elmhurst clearly aspires to fill a generalist niche in its plans to build a larger mosque and serve a very diverse Muslim population in the neighborhood and shoppers frequenting the Queens Mall across the boulevard. Moving north of Queens Boulevard are more dense concentrations of Asians, particularly older Chinese residents and new immigrants. Even if some congregations seek to fill the generalist niche, they may encounter limits and feel compelled to specialize in particular ethnic ministries to sustain themselves. Through its evangelical-style and contemporary English-language service, the Reformed Church of Newtown aspires to serve a more diverse congregation than its immediate neighborhood of older Taiwanese and more recent Fujianese Chinese. But the dynamics of ethnic concentration and conflict in this and other cases makes “niche-switching” difficult and suggests that the agency of congregations is somewhat limited in super-diverse environments.34 Through its large size and ample resources (with one of the largest budgets in the Diocese of Queens and Brooklyn) and parish-based structure, St. Bartholomew’s Catholic Church is able to maintain its multi-ethnic nature that allows it to specialize on ethnic concerns through foreign-language Masses and affinity groups as well as foster parish unity through English-language Masses and joint social events. The specialist niche tends to be filled by small congregations on the side streets and in storefronts catering to particular ethnic groups, though, as mentioned above, such homogeneity is harder to maintain in super-diverse neighborhoods. But strong concentrations of particular ethnic groups, such as the recently arrived Fujianese Chinese north of Queens Boulevard, can also fill the pews in a specialist congregation.The emergence of the second-generation of worshippers in ethnic congregations brings new challenges to retain cohesion in traditions and practices but also in structure (not only in the addition of English-language services but also in the greater prevalence of schisms from the mother church). Of course, managing generational 398

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differences can be as crucial for congregational viability as encountering the challenges of ethnic diversity. The distinction between generalist and specialist niches does not mean that they are not interrelated.As suggested by the case of New Life Fellowship, a “recycling” effect (from the side streets to Main Street) may take place as second-generation members of specialist ethnic churches gravitate to more resource-rich generalist congregations for their greater cultural diversity and more sophisticated programming.35

Super-diversity and civic life It was not unusual when interviewing clergy and laity to hear a matter-of-fact, even blasé, attitude about the diversity within and outside their walls.They are more interested in finding ways to bring their disparate congregations together, rather than in strategies to enhance the already significant degree of diversity that is “just life” in Elmhurst, as one pastor said. Common beliefs, theology, and practices were often cited as those unifying factors, but still there was the concern about factionalism and cliques among members. Social ministry to the neighborhood was one unifying practice, in that many of the congregations have a fair degree of neighborhood presence and activity in serving the poor. The Thai Buddhist Temple’s public presence is seen in the daily offerings and collections the monks take as they walk in their saffron robes through Elmhurst streets.The Indonesian Food Bazaar draws Queens and other New York residents from near and far to their alternating homes at St. James Episcopal Church and a mosque in Astoria. The mingling of Indonesian Muslims and Christians among the servers and customers at the bazaar is quite unique in the often-conflicted relationships between these religions in Indonesia and the diaspora. To argue that bridging social capital is weak from our accounts of congregational life and its lack of cooperation with other organizations misses the way that bridging capital in the form of neighborhood ministry plays a bonding role in these congregations (and vice versa).While civic life and social cohesion might not be an intended goal of congregation-based social activity, it does end up creating social betterment while creating congregational unity. Such congregations provide openings to the wider community by hosting events and organizations that welcome members and non-members, as well as motivating members to serve people outside their walls. Thus, the tendency to separate bonding from bridging social capital does not fully capture how both kinds of activity interact with each other in a religious ecology.36 Of course, this does not explain the striking (and often lamented by the interviewees themselves) sense of disconnect congregations feel from each other and the lack of cooperative organizations to engage in concerted action and pursue the common good in Elmhurst. It may be a confluence of factors, from micro-communities existing in the shadow of the macrocommunity of super-diversity, generalist or specialist agency, and Interaction Rituals that establish Emotional Entrainment to sustain a specific social and cultural religious identity.As in most environments, congregations more often associate with those institutions in their networks that share similar theological and social orientations. But past studies of Elmhurst, most notably a large Queens College project conducted by anthropologist Roger Sanjek37 in the mid-1980s to 1990s—the period when Elmhurst churches and neighborhoods were making the transition to being multi-ethnic—found that there was far more ecumenical cooperation on neighborhood issues. Much of this has to do with internal changes. First Presbyterian Church has been without a pastor for two years, and Bethany Lutheran is in the process of merging with Grace Chinese Lutheran due to the loss of English-speaking and non-Asian members. But there was significant overlap between what Sanjek calls “civic rituals” and the actual rituals of congregations, such as the annual Christmas tree-lighting ceremonies and Memorial Day ceremonies. He 399

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seemed certain that new civic rituals would be created by the new immigrants. But since the 1990s, these civic rituals have not been strongly maintained nor have new ones been created by newcomers as he had hoped.38 James McIninan, a leader of the Newtown Civic Association and the head of the local preservation society, noted the loss of civic life in how residents, especially newer immigrants, respond with general indifference to many preservation efforts in the congregations and the surrounding neighborhood. The Brahman of the Om Shakti Hindi Temple on the outskirts of Elmhurst could well understand how American diversity forces people in his community to become more ethnocentric. He said that “people think this as (an) Indian culturally based temple, so many people don’t want to come in because of social stigma.” Indian immigrants come to the country with their children and, due to their social needs and status, they almost forget to educate their children about their religion and culture. He is currently working with those children who were born into a Hindu family who are growing up in the US to educate them about the history of Hinduism and also about the vision of Swami Vivekananda. As far as diversity in the temple, he doesn’t see that much diversity besides Indian, Bangladeshi, and a few Nepalese. But he is enthusiastic about the possibilities of super-diversity in Elmhurst.“I love it. I love how so many ethnic groups of people live in one town. The most I love about this place is that how many practices and beliefs that I get to witness in terms of religion.” But this excitement is muted by the challenges it brings. The priest of St. Bartholomew comments that in his congregation “some are friendly; some are not so friendly; those that know each other tend to sit together. It is not that they not friendly toward one another; there is segregation even within the groups.” He provided an example of the Filipino community, which is very large, but there are different sub-groups within it. Turner and Stets show how people “frame-make” and “face make”39 through a series of rituals to present a certain picture that the face, then, is a “sacred thing, and the expressive order required to sustain it is therefore a ritual one.”A good example of this was our visit to the Chinese Christian Testimony Church. Members were very welcoming to the Chinese researchers but admitted they would be skeptical of someone of another ethnicity coming into their church. The Brahman of the Oshki Temple noted that the reason most in his congregation do not associate outside his religious circle is probably to preserve their culture. And I think this is important. I lived in Ohio for years as a child in a predominantly white area. I felt out place and out of touch with my culture. It’s important for me to expose my children to the Indian culture, because although we are not in India, we are from India.We want our kids to grow up knowing ‘their culture.’40 In the end, the super-diversity in Elmhurst is a fascinating journey into ethnic and religious niches crossing many parts of the world. It is celebrated in America, and in interfaith dialogues, as a positive social ideology that people from different cultures and beliefs can find cross-cutting identities—whether by standing in line for $1 pizza, playing at the park, receiving medical care, serving the poor, or helping one another with groceries. However, this utopian mantra is not without its detractors.As people interact with the Interaction Rituals of one another, it enlivens their own cultural niche and Emotional Entrainment, often to the detriment of engaging life with people outside their micro-community.The leader of the Jain Center agreed that there is collaboration among the churches in the area.When they need more space, Saint Bartholomew Catholic Church allows them to utilize their space. If they are having a major event, they would let them know and would help each another make the events successful.The Jain Center par400

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ticipates a lot in interfaith meetings where everyone learns to respect one another, which is very important in New York City. He claims interfaith relationships are a good thing because they create more diversity but there are people who will dislike you because of their ignorance. Despite the good relationship they have with the people in the community, there are some who are antagonistic toward the Eastern religion because they think it is rooted in idolatry. There were situations where people were not too friendly; they blocked our parking lot and threw their thrash in front of our property. But regardless of where you live, there will always be some knuckleheads. But other than that, Elmhurst is a fantastic place!

Epilogue Three months after we concluded our research on the unique and vital super-diversity of Elmhurst, once again the congregations and neighborhood attracted worldwide attention, this time for being at the epicenter of the coronavirus pandemic in New York, which was itself the epicenter of the disease in the US. Queens had the highest infection rate in New York, and the Elmhurst-Corona area had more cases than other neighborhoods, including hospitalizations and deaths. Those neighborhoods with more diversity, lower-income residents, and older residents were hit hardest by the coronavirus, though Asian populations were the least affected of ethnic groups.41 It is difficult to know how this crisis will affect the religious ecology of Elmhurst since the pandemic, as of this writing, is not over. Will already-struggling congregations survive the loss of revenue and the weakening of in-person attendance that may happen in the wake of the pandemic? For now, most of the congregations are adapting to the stay-at-home orders much like other religious institutions across the globe. Congregations from First Presbyterian to the Rock Church to Chan Meditation Center have been running streaming services, while the latter have held online dharma talks. Some groups, such as the Jain Center of New York, have closed their buildings and have refrained from creating an online presence for their members. But they have maintained a physical and social presence in the neighborhood.The Jain Center organized an action plan providing Jain meals to medical workers at Elmhurst Hospital, which was the hospital most inundated with coronavirus patients. The Chan Meditation Center created a non-profit organization to raise funds for medical and equipment supplies at Elmhurst Hospital and plans to branch out to other hospitals. St. Bartholomew’s Church runs a pop-up food distribution center for low-income and unemployed residents, while New Life Fellowship through its community development arm has intensified efforts to minister to the homeless, low-income residents, and to high-risk students struggling with learning during the stay-at-home order. Paradoxically, these congregations have extended their public presence in a time of social distancing and quarantine. However, religious groups have not been able to offer perhaps the most significant role they play in human interaction: funerals and grieving rites for the dead. Social distancing policy made it impossible for clergy to access Elmhurst Hospital, to visit those who were ill or their families. With social distancing, even family members could not be with their dying loved ones in the ICU to offer comfort and support. Similarly, most clergy were unable to enter the hospital or visit the families with restrictions in place. In light of this, some of the hospital staff, nurses, and physician’s assistants among others offered their patients prayers, encouragement, notes from families, and the like. Some of these health care workers themselves succumbed to the disease.42 Prayer gatherings of hospital staff were frequently formed in the hallways and adjacent spaces at the start of shifts. Often medical personnel who had ministerial credentials stepped in, replacing the traditional roles of the chaplain.43 With a backlog of corpses in the refrigerated trucks 401

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in back of the hospital, funeral directors traveled from one to two hours away from the outlying suburban and exurban communities since funeral homes throughout the city were overwhelmed. The only contact many families had with their loved one’s final rites were through the funeral directors, who also took on ministerial roles that had traditionally been handled by the pastors, priests, rabbis, and imams.44 As noted above, it remains to be seen what the long-term effects of the pandemic will have on the individuals and congregations in Elmhurst. But once the social isolation policy has ended, and Elmhurst residents are released from crowded apartments and back into the densely populated and religiously vibrant neighborhood, faith communities will resume providing care for the people in need as they have always done.

Notes 1 We would like to thank K.T. Chun and Lina Villegas for their assistance with research, interviews, translation, and social research ethnography students from City University of New York: New York City College of Technology.We are also grateful for financial assistance from the Jack Shand Research Grant from the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion. 2 Vertovec, Steven.“Talking around Super-Diversity.” Ethnic and Racial Studies, 42:1, pp. 125–39, 2019. 3 Hanson, R. Scott. Gods of the City. New York: Fordham University Press, 2016. 4 American Language Communication Center. 5 These are standardized tests for high school graduation in the United States. 6 Ammerman, Nancy. Congregation and Community. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1997. 7 Durkheim, E. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life. New York: Free Press, 1995. 8 Watters, Ethan. Urban Tribes. New York: Bloomsbury, 2003. 9 Park, Robert E. and Ernest W. Burgess. The City: Suggestions for Investigation of Human Behavior in the Urban Environment. Chicago, IL and London: The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., 1984. 10 McGavran, D. Understanding Church Growth. Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1970. 11 Abrahamson, Mark. Urban Enclaves: Identity and Place in the World, Second Edn. New York: Worth Publishers, 2006. p. 8. 12 Abrahamson, Urban Enclaves, p. 8. 13 Oldenberg, Ray. The Great Good Place: Cafes, Coffee Shops, Community Centers, Beauty Parlors, General Stores, Bars, Hangouts and How They Get You Through the Day. New York: Paragon House, 1989. 14 Tonnies, Ferdinand. Community and Society. Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, 2002. 15 Jacobs, Jane. The Death and Life of Great American Cities. New York, NY: Random House, 1961. 16 Gans, Herbert. The Urban Villagers. New York:The Free Press, Macmillan Co., Inc., 1982. 17 Collins, Randall. Interaction Ritual Chains. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004. 18 Durkheim, 1995. 19 Collins, 2004. 20 Carnes, Tony. “189 Religious Sites in Elmhurst, Queens, Community District 4.” A Journey Through NYC Religions, August 19, 2019. www.nycreligion.info/189-religious-sites-elmhurst-queens/, Accessed November 10, 2019. 21 Interview conducted with pastor of the Reformed Church of Newtown, June 28, 2019. 22 Interview conducted April 10, 2019. 23 Interview with Sarah (pseudonym), March 16, 2019. 24 Collins, 2004. EE = Emotional Entrainment. 25 An English simple translation by the researcher of the Burmese tradition. 26 IR+EE (Collins, 2004). 27 The impression of the participant observer. 28 Comment of Jose, a church deacon, March 2019. 29 Informal interview, March 2019. 30 Comment of Jose, church deacon. 31 Ammerman, 1997; Cimino, Richard, Mian, Nadia, and Huang,Weishan. Ecologies of Faith in New York City. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2012.

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Super-diversity in Elmhurst, Queens 32 McRoberts, O. Streets of Glory: Church and Community in a Black Urban Neighborhood. Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 2003. 33 DiMaggio, Paul. “The Relevance of Organizational Theory to the Study of Religion,” in Sacred Companies: Organizational Aspects of Religion and Religious Aspects of Organizations, eds, N.J. Demrath, P.D. Hall,T. Schmidt, and R.H.Williams, pp. 71–93. New York: Oxford University Press. 34 Cimino, Mian and Huang, 2013. 35 Simmel showed how blasé attitudes came to the upper classes from too much leisure and overstimulation, causing a disenchanted urban life. Similarly, super-diversity being such a regular mundane characteristic of the Elmhurst neighborhood, religious leaders may be disenchanted or unimpressed by the diversity around them, unlike a first-time visitor or tourist to New York City. 36 Putnam, Robert. “E Pluribus Unum: Diversity and Community in the Twenty-First Century.” Scandinavian Political Studies, 30:2, 2007. 37 Sanjek, Roger. The Future of Us All. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1998. 38 Sanjek, Future of Us All, p. 371. 39 Turner, Johnathan H. and Jan E. Stets. The Sociology of Emotions. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. 40 Comment in field notes of participant observer researcher who was also Hindi. June 23, 2019. 41 Dobkin, K., Diaz, C., and Gotteherer-Cohen, Z. “Coronavirus Statistics: Tracking the Epidemic in New York.” Gothamist, May 1, 2020. https://gothamist.com/news/coronavirus-statistics-trackingepidemic-new-york. 42 Boone, R. 2020.“Elmhurst Hospital Worker Planning to Retire Dies from Coronavirus.” Spectrum News 1 April 02, 2020. www.ny1.com/nyc/all-boroughs/news/2020/04/02/elmhurst-hospital-workerand-queens-advocate-dies-after-coronavirus-battle. 43 Santiago, E. Personal online Facebook interview. Chaplain, Bellevue Hospital.April 26, 2020. 44 Kramer, P.D. “Pandemic Creates Bottleneck at Funeral Homes and Crematoriums as Deaths Mount.” Rockland/Westchester Journal News April 16, 2020. www.lohud.com/story/news/coronavirus/2020/04/ 16/coronavirus-deaths-crematory-funeral-backlog/2990919001/. 45 Warner, S. and Judith Wittner. Gatherings in Diaspora: Religious Communities and the New Immigration. Philadelphia, PA:Temple University Press, 1998.

Bibliography Abrahamson, Mark. Urban Enclaves: Identity and Place in the World. Second Edn (New York:Worth Publishers, 2006). Ammerman, Nancy. Congregation and Community (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1997). Boone, R. 2020.“Elmhurst Hospital Worker Planning to Retire Dies from Coronavirus.” Spectrum News 1. Accessed April 02, 2020. www.ny1.com/nyc/all-boroughs/news/2020/04/02/elmhurst-hospitalworker-and-queens-advocate-dies-after-coronavirus-battle. Carnes,Tony.“189 Religious Sites in Elmhurst, Queens, Community District 4.” A Journey Through NYC Religions. August 19, 2019, Accessed November 10, 2019. www.nycreligion.info/189-religious-siteselmhurst-queens/. Cimino, Richard, Mian, Nadia and Huang,Weishan. Ecologies of Faith in New York City (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2012). Collins, Randall. Interaction Ritual Chains (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004). DiMaggio, Paul.“The Relevance of Organizational Theory to the Study of Religion.” In Sacred Companies: Organizational Aspects of Religion and Religious Aspects of Organizations, eds, N.J. Demrath, P.D. Hall, T. Schmidt, and R.H.Williams (New York: Oxford University Press, n.d.), pp. 71–93. Durkheim, E. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life (New York: Free Press, 1995). Gans, Herbert. The Urban Villagers (New York: Free Press, Macmillan Co., Inc., 1982). Goffman, E. Ritual: Essays on Face-to-Face Behavior (New York: Pantheon Books, 1967). Hanson, R. Scott. Gods of the City (New York: Fordham University Press, 2016). Jacobs, Jane. The Death and Life of Great American Cities (New York: Random House, 1961). Kramer, P.D. “Pandemic Creates Bottleneck at Funeral Homes and Crematoriums as Deaths Mount.” Rockland/Westchester Journal News. Accessed April 16, 2020. www.lohud.com/story/news/corona virus/2020/04/16/coronavirus-deaths-crematory-funeral-backlog/2990919001/. McGavran, D. Understanding Church Growth (Grand Rapids, MI:Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1970).

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Richard Cimino and Hans Tokke Oldenberg, Ray. The Great Good Place: Cafes, Coffee Shops, Community Centers, Beauty Parlors, General Stores, Bars, Hangouts and How They Get You Through the Day (New York: Paragon House, 1989). Park, Robert E. and Ernest W. Burgess. The City: Suggestions for Investigation of Human Behavior in the Urban Environment (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., 1984). Putnam, Robert. “E Pluribus Unum: Diversity and Community in the Twenty-First Century.” Scandinavian Political Studies 30, No. 2 (2007). pp. 137–174. Sanjek, Roger. The Future of Us All (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1998). Tonnies, Ferdinand. Community and Society (Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, 2002). Turner, Johnathan H. and Jan E. Stets. The Sociology of Emotions Cambridge (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005). Vertovec, Steven.“Talking Around Super-Diversity.” Ethnic and Racial Studies 42, No. 1 (2019): pp. 125–39. Warner, S. and Judith Wittner. Gatherings in Diaspora: Religious Communities and the New Immigration (Philadelphia, PA:Temple University Press, 1998).45 Watters, Ethan. Urban Tribes (New York: Bloomsbury, 2003). Wirth, Louis.“Urbanism as a Way of Life.” In The Urban Sociology Reader, eds, Lin, Jan and Christopher Mele (New York: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group, 2005). 1930. in American Journal of Sociology.

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28 RELIGION AND VIOLENCE IN THE URBAN CONTEXT Elfriede Wedam and Ryan SC Wong1

Religion and violence are easily linked in the public imagination, yet we know that many faith traditions abjure violence and promote peace, albeit with different degrees of success. Moreover, some justify violence in particular contexts.2 Nonetheless, despite its high human cost, violence is part of the human condition.While the potential for violence exists everywhere, actual levels of violence vary by time, location, and conditions,3 hence the usefulness of a sociological perspective. Using an urban lens, we ask in this chapter, in what ways, if any, do various religious practices in the United States act upon or influence potential states of violence? We begin by asking how violence is produced and reproduced over time and across spaces in the city. Chicago is the laboratory for examining these questions. It is probably not lost on the reader that while the homicide rate has declined somewhat since the peak in 2016, Chicago has displayed persistent problems with violence despite the decades-long overall national decline in some of the strongest indicators such as homicides. First, we define several dimensions of violence.

Violence: Personal, structural, cultural Violence has both structural and personal sources, direct and indirect causes. Peace researcher Johan Galtung provides the following distinctions: actor or “direct violence is defined in personal, social, and world spaces and is intended by individuals acting singly or inside collectivities. Direct violence can be verbal or physical; and violence harming the body, mind, and spirit.”4 All combinations leave behind psychological and emotional traumas5 that may perpetuate violence over time. Structural or indirect violence is defined as “built into the person, social, or world spaces and is unintended.” Structural violence divides into “political, repressive and economic, exploitative; supported by structural penetration, segmentation, fragmentation, and marginalization.”6 Simply put,“Structural violence … is differentiated from personal violence … where there is no actor committing the violence or where it is not practical to search for the actor(s).”7 The structural violence approach “provides for a larger framework, not ignoring individual-level analysis but suggesting that that level alone is insufficient to enable us to understand the complex realities of our increasingly globalized world.”8 This approach can help us avoid victim-blaming because of its emphasis on the larger social structure that is at play.9 405

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Cultural violence is yet another form but is used less frequently in sociological analysis. Cultural violence serves to legitimize direct or structural violence, motivating actors to commit direct violence or to omit counteracting structural violence; can be intended or unintended. Cultural violence divides by content:“religion, law and ideology, language, art, empirical/ formal science, cosmology [deep cultures] and by carriers: schools, universities, media.10 Cultural violence is a way to frame and support the default setting within which solutions to everyday life problems are constructed.This resonates with the late sociologist Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of symbolic violence, which is a form of non-physical violence against a subordinate person or group that has legitimate standing within the attitudes and perceptions of the cultural mainstream and is often unrecognized. For example, cultural or symbolic violence says that responding aggressively to challenges is reasonable and justifiable in the ordinary sense.Taking the step from aggressive to violent behavior is a short one, measured by ambiguous boundaries of acceptability.As we will demonstrate, all three dimensions operate interactively, and they conceptually and practically interpenetrate one another. To grasp the ubiquitous and persistent nature of violence, it is helpful to move beyond general definitions to an applied notion of direct or personal violence that concretizes acts of violence in the immediate experience of the actors. This has the advantage of shedding light on structural violence as well. Coming from the world of community organizing in Chicago, Phillip Bradley offers a tri-part definition of violence that emerged from grassroots efforts focusing on individual behavior, which, as we will demonstrate below, has immediate implications for structural and cultural violence.The first part of this definition of violence is “the act of serving one’s perversities, privileges, preferences and pleasures rather than the health, interest, rights and needs of all people.”11 Such behavior can be intentional or unintentional. In the individualistic orientation of most Americans, individual violence is implicitly acknowledged (and justified) rather than explicitly stated. An important implication is that while this form of violence does not actively create privileged structures, violence is embedded in the system by the adoption of prevailing norms, values, and rules, i.e., through culture. In this way, violence may not be an intentional act, or not in all cases, but individuals benefit, and individual agents can be identified. The second dimension of Bradley’s applied definition is that violence “is uttering statements that are not true, thinking, speaking, and acting without being motivated by creative goodwill and compassion.”This dimension is formed on moral grounds, making it intentional behavior, as is the third dimension, namely, that “violence is the intent to destroy or injure the spirit, mind, emotion, body, relationships or properties of others.”12 In the latter case, an individual is held to account for one’s intent in the action, not merely the action itself. Hence, violence takes many forms: self-hate, lack of self-respect, suicide, relationship violence, child abuse and neglect, rape and homicide, property crime, corruption and fraud, capital punishment, war, and genocide.At the personal level, violence has psychological and emotional consequences (traumas) that are difficult to overestimate. Capital punishment, war, and genocide are state-sponsored violence, hence, structural forms of violence with psychological and emotional consequences for the victims (and their families). Structural violence is also a consequence of institutional practices that result in inequality, poverty, and injustice. For example, in 1934 the Federal Housing Administration (FHA) instituted low-interest, low down payment, and long-term mortgages to counter some of the effects of the Great Depression, but initially excluded “low-income families, single women (unless they were war widows), the non-wage-earning elderly, or racial minorities, who for decades were 406

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officially or unofficially prevented from obtaining loans.”13 Without some form of wealth equity such as homeownership, families have limited means for advancing economically. Restrictive covenants, a real estate practice sanctioned by the FHA, were not discontinued until after the Supreme Court struck them down in 1948, and bank-redlining practices were not effectively challenged until the Fair Housing Act of 1968. Furthermore, economic inequality is supported by educational inequality. After World War II, all veterans, including African American soldiers, were eligible for the benefits of the G.I. Bill. However, historically white colleges and universities only admitted a token number of blacks and women, and, historically, black colleges only had space for about half the number of applicants.14 For example, Harold Washington (first black mayor of Chicago) and Dawn Clark Netsch (Illinois state senator) each obtained the one open seat in Northwestern University’s School of Law class of 1948 for those categories. In each case we can ask, is there a particular individual that can be blamed for unjust outcomes? No, but it took the collective agreement among the members of the institutions to implement the (culturally) dominant prejudices of the time. Hence, structural violence is foregrounded, but it could not exist without the reciprocal causal path between individuals and cultural practices.15

What produces violence? Violence has multiple causes. The debate between the ecological view of the relationship between crime and race16 and the individualist view17 is still relevant (while the mentioned authors were measuring for crime, in certain cases, they used crime and violence interchangeably). The ecological view theorizes a community-level relationship between crime and violence, thus helping examine the intersectionality of race, place, inequalities, and violence. The ecological approach posits crime and violence in relation to structural differences like the “concentration of ghetto poverty, racial segregation, residential mobility and population turnover, family disruption, and the dimensions of local social organization (e.g., density of friendship/ acquaintanceship, social resources, intergenerational links).”18 The individualist view explains engagement in criminal behavior with biological and/or genetic factors, which include family—the idea that “bad families produce bad children.”19 As a biosocial theory, it holds that individuals’ biological differences affect their social learning and how they understand and “are affected by rewards and punishments that shape their behavior.”20 This view focuses on control, containment, and punishing offenders rather than eliminating the underlying causes of their offending or rehabilitating them. However, while we (Wedam and Wong) acknowledge the contextual elements without suggesting they are determinative, we do not accept the rational choice assumptions underlying the deterrence theory of the individualist viewpoint. Our argument is that both social structures and individual circumstances and choices contribute to the social problem of violence.21 We would add the taken-for-granted standards of judgment by which individuals are evaluated and through which cultural processes operate. In the following sections, we describe the structural conditions and individual circumstances that produce and condition violence, simultaneously shaped by the cultural assumptions operating in those circumstances. Social structures and institutions provide conditions that influence and feed back into violent acts.When studying the persistence of concentrated poverty and underclass among African Americans,22 sociologists of race and poverty illuminated the effects that structures have on producing disadvantageous settings for a population. Similarly, these structures can also provide breeding grounds for violence.We will discuss six structural conditions that produce violence: 407

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1) socially disadvantaged neighborhoods; 2) poor family functioning; 3) inadequate education; 4) lack of employment; 5) mistrust of law enforcement; and 6) easy availability of guns. These conditions, although listed separately, can operate simultaneously and work recursively. Thus, these conditions generate an environment that allows violence to thrive, which then reinforces them, creating a feedback loop and making violence a deceptively endless cycle. Neighborhoods provide grounding for human development and contribute to identity formation.They are geographical mappings of localized communities with continuous social interactions.A socially isolated neighborhood, however, is typically separated by social class, race, and reputation (e.g., “sketchy,” “public housing,” “Section 8”).23 A socially isolated neighborhood is not one that is necessarily physically isolated, although sometimes expressways, railroad tracks, or even parks and industrial districts can create concrete barriers against surrounding neighborhoods, but one where its populations are isolated by social boundaries.The classic work of the Chicago school of urban sociology posited that the city consisted of a “mosaic of little worlds that touch but do not interpenetrate.”24 Sociologists Andrew Papachristos and Sara Bastomski, however, analyzed linkages and networks between similar neighborhoods and, following recent research, demonstrated interdependency among them. “[W]hat occurs in one neighborhood affects what happens in neighboring communities.”25 Crime and violence in one neighborhood can transcend spatial boundaries and influence other neighborhoods through what these authors define as “co-offending.” Most youth and young adult crimes and delinquent behaviors occur in groups, which expose individuals to different types of criminal skills, deviant values, opportunities to engage in crime and delinquency, and potential pools of co-offenders from other neighborhoods. If repeated, such patterns create a durable network, one that produces meaningful structures that link neighborhoods. “These structures can facilitate the flow of ideas, social norms, and even instrumental support that enable criminal activity, beyond the individual offenders we observe in our data.”26 This is based in the durability of “neighborhood effects,” as Robert Sampson and his colleagues proposed beginning in 1997 with their groundbreaking publication in Science.27 In other words, crime and other conditions of disadvantage are reproduced over time as well as space by connecting a network of neighborhoods. Socially and economically disadvantaged neighborhoods are exceptionally vulnerable to violence because their populations are detached from resources that can alleviate the causes of violence. For example, neighborhoods “[u]nder conditions of severe and persistent concentrated poverty, high crime, and ineffective policing, residents come to expect crime, disorder, and the illegal economy to be a part of their daily lives.”28 In the same article, Sampson and his colleagues commented on the strength of “poverty, female family headship, low education and skill, [and] joblessness”29 as indicators of structural disadvantage. Pratt and Cullen’s research in 2005 tested the strength of several macrolevel predictors of crime; they found that the connections among non-economic institutions, unemployment, firearms ownership, family disruption, and violence are robust.30 These tested predictors match well with the conditions we listed—single families, inadequate education, high unemployment rates, mistrust of law enforcement, and gun accessibility. Social structures contribute to the conditioning of violence but, to recall our earlier discussion, there is another key element in the production of violence—individuals.An act cannot be executed without an actor, and personal decisions matter. Indeed, while structural constraints exist, so do cultural constraints, and both limit the power of agency. However, we agree that individuals can resist being “structural or cultural dopes.”31 As David Rubinstein explains, [T]he components of action [culture, structure, agency] are indeterminate and mediated by the others … The privileging of the elements of action can be allowed in 408

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concrete situations. But the reductive view that ‘in the final analysis’ a preferred factor is determinative [economic opportunities is frequently presumed] and the others [culture, agency] are epiphenomenal should be resisted.32 Hence, we will explore individual circumstances that shape violence: 1) family dysfunctions; 2) low level of resources to abet violent behavior; 3) poor individual health; and 4) lack of prosocial behavioral skills.As some readers might have noticed already, these individual circumstances closely mirror structural conditions. Structural conditions often translate to individual circumstances [i.e., conduct]; each has partial autonomy, as Rubinstein explains, but is also subject to the interactive pull of the other. As shown in Figure 28.1, individuals heavily influence and are influenced by social structures and institutions. The micro-influences on violence are well documented in McCrea et al.33 Family dysfunctions like norms of interpersonal violence contribute to the persistence of violence.“A minority of families in high-poverty, high-crime US communities are heavily involved in violence and begin forcing their children to adopt street values and criminal activities at early ages.”34 This dysfunction of family also contributes to poor mental health and the lack of prosocial behavioral skills like anger management, parenting skills, reasonable self-assessments, and maturity. While this dysfunction of family conduct is found in the minority of families in high-poverty and crime communities, the structural context of the neighborhood matters as well. Families with

Figure 28.1 Structural violence, interpersonal violence, mental health issues, reactive violence. Source: McCrea, Richards, Quimby, Scott, Davis, Hart,Thomas, and Hopson 2019

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good parenting that value family support face challenges of poverty and neighborhood danger, which can be overwhelming and override the positive effect of good parenting. An example provided in McCrea et al.’s study is that “some parents in under-resourced communities may be forced into long daily separations from their children to pursue multiple low-wage jobs, are exposed to the same community violence that afflicts their children and are unable to access services.”35 Neighborhoods with low levels of resources, such as support systems to abet violent behaviors and disadvantages mentioned above, contribute to the social and public health problem of violence. A variety of studies performed by a team based in the Loyola University Chicago Psychology Department point repeatedly to community and family roles in reducing adolescents’ trauma when exposed to public violence. External public exposure and exposure to older peers increase risk for violent outcomes for teens.36 Conversely, when parents monitor their adolescents while also providing them personal warmth, family cohesion, and support, these teens are at lower risk for destructive behaviors.37 Following their model graphed in Figure 28.1, structural violence has macro- and meso-level properties. Racism is often identified as a structural variable, but clearly difficult to measure except by meso-level indicators such as organizations, hence,“underresourced schools” in this model. Alternatively, government or other institutional policies (e.g., historic discrimination by the FHA, colleges, and universities) that exclude groups from obtaining resources can also be considered macro structures.

Violence is a public health problem, not a policing problem The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) strongly endorse a public health approach to understanding and addressing violence, and provide extensive technical assistance to groups willing to adopt their recommendations.38 Indeed, the CDC acknowledges that much of the difficulty in finding long-term solutions stems from a lack of coherent, comprehensive, and preventative strategies at the local level, focusing on long-term and widespread changes in a community that are likely to have lasting effects. To overcome some past weaknesses in finding effective solutions, the CDC recommends that multi-tiered and multi-institutional sectors become involved.While they suggest public health can play a leadership role, other sectors are vital, including but not limited to, education, health care (mental, behavioral, medical), justice, government (local, state, and federal), social services, business, housing, media, and organizations that comprise the civil society sector, such as faith-based organizations, youth-serving organizations, foundation, and other non-governmental organizations. [emphasis added]39 Violence prevention activities that combine different strategies and approaches begin with early childhood interventions such as head start and child–parent centers and continue into elementary school programming that expands youths’ skills, including problem-solving and selfefficacy.40 Another approach is to lessen the harm of violence exposure through therapeutic treatment for youths’ behavioral and emotional issues and hospital–community partnerships for intervention and prevention services.The CDC recommends family therapeutic services to reduce family conflict, improve communication, and enhance parenting skills in managing and

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supervising their youth.41 The CDC’s solution is less to choose from the above menu than to organize an “all of the above” institutional remedy. However, in reviewing the recommendations in all six arenas of violence they have investigated (youth violence, intimate partner violence, suicide, sexual violence, child abuse and neglect, and adverse childhood experiences), the CDC recommends most prominently four solutions: teaching skills of problem-solving for children and parents, which include promoting prosocial and positive parenting norms of behavior; providing support services for victims; creating protective environments including interventions; and economic support. We note that, of these four, only one addresses structural causes in terms of material opportunities and benefits, i.e., economic support. The other three address the individual agent, creating a variety of supportive environments (which, arguably, could be a meso-level structural change), and behavioral changes. Hence, the data analyzed by the CDC show that structure and agency are connected in terms of potential solutions, although they emphasize personal agency more.

Chicago and violence Chicago’s reputation is heavily shaped by the notoriety of organized crime headed by one of its kingpins, Al Capone, and “The Untouchables” who pursued them.42 Nonetheless, in the post-World War II era, Chicago followed the same general patterns of crime as the nation as a whole. Chicago hit two “singular peaks” of homicides in 1974 (N=970) and 1992 (N=943), followed by a steep decline, which was followed by a recent but lower peak in 2016 (N=781)43 (see Figure 28.2). Since then, much national attention has focused on Chicago because, while Chicago has also witnessed decline—in 2018 the number of homicides was 56344—it has been considerably less than in our peer cities of New York (N=290) and Los Angeles (N=286) in 2017.45 In 2017, Chicago’s homicide rate (per 100,000) was 24.13, Los Angeles’s was 7.01, and New York City’s was 3.39. Despite its reputation, Chicago ranks 12th in homicide rates among large American cities.46

Figure 28.2 Yearly murder trend in Chicago, 1964–2018. Source: Loyola University, Chicago, Center for Criminal Justice Research, Policy and Practice, 2020

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Young African American males (over 80% of victims/assailants) are statistically most at risk in this city. Murder is concentrated in districts that also suffer from intergenerational poverty, gang-infestation, social disorder, and economic blight.47 However, murder is just one type of violence, albeit the most visible and fear-inducing.This has broad implications for the negative reputations of several South and West Side Chicago neighborhoods.48 Nonetheless, it is necessary to put these forms of violence into context.The gun homicide rate in the US is 3.5 per 100,000 people. However, the rate for African American males between 10 and 24 years of age is 48.4 per 100,000.The overall rate of crimes with a gun is 2.3%.49 When compared to suicides, the Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in 2017 reported that there were more than twice as many suicides (47,173) in the United States as there were homicides (19,510).50 Less visible but more insidious are the many forms of personal violence that we discussed above.

What resources do religious people, ideas, and institutions bring to this problem? Religion can be usefully defined in functional terms. Religion fulfills certain human needs: it provides community and belonging based in affective relationships, an array of tasks and activities that require personal investment, an identity grounded in beliefs, practices, and rituals that engage the believer in a relationship to the sacred or the divine, and codes of conduct that constrain individual behavior (ethical norms). For the believer, religion is expressed organizationally, in congregations with specific organizational structures, sometimes rooted in historic systems but other times decidedly contemporary. Congregations will develop a variety of religious cultures based on their traditions and local histories, but also informed by social and political orientations. Many religious groups are inward-looking, caring primarily for the needs of their members. Some groups focus outwardly, strongly influenced by their commitment to mission. Taken together and perhaps most importantly, these activities and characteristics provide meaning for the participants. Our next task is to highlight the outward actions of several faith-based groups and congregations who make addressing the problem of violence part of their religious mission.

Where can we see the impact of religion in Chicago’s violence-prone areas? “It was only because of God that we got justice,” said William Calloway.“We did a lot of praying, a lot of work.We were peaceful,” Calloway, a community activist, said after the court rendered a verdict in a case of police misconduct in Chicago in 2014. A 17-year-old African American, Laquan McDonald, was fatally shot by Chicago Police Officer Jason Van Dyke, a 14-year veteran. McDonald was shot 16 times. On October 5, 2018, 4 years after the death of McDonald, Van Dyke was found guilty of second-degree murder, as well as 16 counts of aggravated battery with a firearm. Three Chicago police officers were tried for allegedly attempting to cover up for the shooting; however, they were found not guilty.Van Dyke was sentenced to 81 months in prison.51 In this case of police wrongdoing, the Christian orientation of the activists was invoked as a resource in their efforts to bring public attention to the unjustified shooting in light of the resistance of civil authorities to acknowledge it.52 Calloway explained that his faith required him to act in certain ways while pursuing his goals. He stated that he wanted the world to know “it is only because of God that we got justice.We did a lot of praying, we did a lot of work.We were peaceful when we didn’t want to be peaceful.” In response to a reporter’s question about accountability, Calloway replied, 412

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You can never have healing or reconciliation without accountability. It’s time to forgive now … I’m not going to lie … That’s hard for me to say. But I’m a believer in Jesus Christ and we have to release forgiveness in order for us to heal. While religious individuals can be motivated by faith to engage in nonviolent activism to achieve justice goals, can religious organizations be agents for constructive resolution to the destructive outcomes that violence produces? It is useful to discuss first the national congregational context for outreach work that addresses social problems. The National Congregations Study by Mark Chaves and colleagues has examined this question over three waves beginning in 1998. In the most recently reported 2012 wave, 83% indicated some involvement in “social or human services, community development, or other projects and activities intended to help people outside the congregation.”53 This is higher than the 58% who reported thusly in 1998 and 2006.54 However, Chaves explains this is due to the slightly altered form of the question in 2012 so that “more congregations who do minor sorts of social services say ‘yes’ to the initial ‘do you do any?’ question.”55 Food assistance remains the most common form of activity (52% of all congregations). It is still the case that few congregations engage in long-term and more intensive interaction with the needy. Programs aimed at helping prisoners, victims of domestic violence, the unemployed, substance abusers, and immigrants, for example, each are listed by fewer than 5% of congregations as one of their most important four programs, and only 11% of congregations place any one of these activities on their top-four list.56 While there may be a presumption by the American public that religious groups are at the front line of social services, these researchers report that as institutional actors, “the vast majority of congregations are involved in social services only with low intensity.”57 To be clear, other religious institutions such as Catholic Charities, Lutheran Social Services, Jewish Family Services, and the Salvation Army are among the largest agencies that provide extensive support services. While receiving public funds prohibits any form of religious discrimination on the part of these agencies, our only claim is that the organizations are founded on and motivated by a religious perspective to engage in this form of charitable work. They would plainly not be included in a “congregational” survey.We present a limited amount of data below, as illustrative of notable religious involvement and accessible to the “person-in-the pew.” The Chicago setting provides examples from among those 10% of congregations Chaves found that are engaged in intensive service delivery. However, our question is not only whether congregations participate in violence prevention or intervention work, but are they effective? And if so, how? In many cases, organizations, including congregations, claim success by their own measures. Our approach will be to attribute effectiveness or some level of success (admittedly ambiguous) by connecting the religious work of our sample congregations to the outcomes identified by the CDC as effective programs against violence. Sociologists Rhys H.Williams and R. Stephen Warner shed some light on this question with data from their Youth and Religion Project on urban evangelical youth programs in Chicago.58 The authors identify several program commonalities in what they judge to be “successful in attracting and keeping youth” and link those programs to youths’ “healthy personal identities and public selves.”59 The first common element among successful youth programs is their provision of autonomous space for youth to share candidly their experiences.Youth revealed past “drug use, sexual activity, harrowing encounters with gangs or crime, intensely painful relation413

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ships with parents.”60 These youth concluded that the solution was to “‘get right with God’ and act in a morally responsible manner.”61 This autonomous space inside a church with dedicated leaders acted as a “protected environment” that permitted the youth a measure of independence within a supportive atmosphere. From the same dataset,Williams and Warner reported that youth night in African American churches combined parental support with similar goals for youth ministry; however, adult members provided more monitoring and considerably less autonomy for the youth. The authors concluded that [i]n a community where growing up is a risky business, lack of supervision and monitoring can be dangerous, even deadly, and African-Americans may well feel that they do not want the church to serve as another autonomous space for youth.62 It is worth noting that many of the black youth and college students in this study were not only enveloped by their adult leaders but enveloped themselves in the language of family and community to a greater degree than the white youth and college students did, who tended to use more individualistic language. The authors concluded that, for black respondents, church commitments “served to keep individuals on the right path, a path that was understood as benefiting the collective as well as the individual.”63 Parental support, in addition to supervision, a protective environment, and sense of belonging, are indeed protective factors cited in the psychological research above.64 Other research has provided some evidence of the role of fathers in reducing their children’s negative behaviors. For example, having a black Protestant Christian father is associated with fewer externalizing problem behaviors in young children.65 Another protective factor for urban evangelical youth is finding alternative communities in which they can live differently from the “code of the streets.”Youth see much problematic and destructive behavior in other parts of their lives; these effective youth programs instead “inculcate values and ideals that urge them away from substance abuse, crime, and other risky behavior” through contact with peers who do not engage in such behavior, often through conservative morality that imposes limits and constraints.66 The CDC recommends creating protective environments for youth as an effective solution, because, as Chicago-based research by Goldner et al. found, exposure to older peers in public settings increases the risk for violent outcomes for teens.67 Williams and Warner noted that these urban evangelical programs are decidedly “urban” and contemporary, despite some history within American Evangelicalism that eschews this form of public involvement.68 They assert that Rather than shunning the city as a site of corruption and moral decay, the churches we have observed deliberately choose it as a place for mission, a place to reform, a society in need.They are not merely ‘stuck’ in the city, unable to respond to demographic changes.69 Another intense outreach to, and re-structuring of, the environment for urban youth is found in the Urban Life Skills Program of New Life Community Church.This church began in the 1980s on the Southwest Side and, while it is now interracial, its special mission has been to Latinos and specifically Latino youth. As the urban youth programs reported by Williams and Warner, New Life discovered that at-risk youth can be reached by small group mentoring that provides belonging, parenting, and an alternative moral lifestyle in a consistent way.As the pastor stated, “Youth workers find themselves doing parental things, asking about school and things. Youth need a place to belong. Sometimes they end up in gangs to belong.”70 414

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Their Gang Intervention Program located in the Little Village community on Chicago’s Southwest Side, which is predominately Latino, provides a violence prevention and intervention model for youth on probation and parole.This includes skills development through mentoring, gang intervention counseling, substance abuse classes, art therapy, job readiness training, tutoring and GED classes, court advocacy, social activities, and family support. The CDC recommends all these techniques. Urban Life reports that their “Christ-centered” mentoring program has produced significant results: youth are 46% less likely to use drugs; 27% less likely to use alcohol; 52% less likely to skip a class; and 37% less likely to skip a day of school. They claim that 60% of their youth come through the program without reoffending or picking up a new case. They attribute these gains to the intensive focus on prevention and intervention as well as their ability to provide personalized approaches.Youth can obtain individual as well as group-based mentoring.“Building character” is one of their goals. Like the evangelical youth groups studied by Williams and Warner, Urban Life advocates for “positive life changes” through developing networks of peers that do not engage in such risky behaviors and mentors who model a different life.Their introductory video ends with the statement,“Help us transform Little Village and Chicago with the hope of Jesus Christ.” Of course, we rely on self-reported data about their degree of success. It is worth noting, however, that this program dates to the mid-1990s when Wedam first interviewed church leaders and has expanded since then. A further point is the program’s use of the language of neighborhood “transformation.” In our view, transformation should never be mistaken for reformation or conflict resolution, whether it is used in a political or theological sense. Peace researcher, John Paul Lederach, suggests that transformation is a deeper orientation to social change that involves “changing or expanding our guiding ideas.”71 Furthermore, one needs also to distinguish between a change that addresses the person or the context of that person’s life. The Urban Life Skills Program appears committed to a cumulative model of changing “hearts and minds” one person at a time in the expectation that the community will experience overall “transformation.” This model of change is consistent with the theological orientation that stresses individual salvation. As we saw, the populations most vulnerable to violence are socially disadvantaged African American and Latino youth in urban areas. In research on two Chicago-based organizations addressing the variety of personal and civic needs of formerly incarcerated men, Edward Flores and Jennifer Cossyleon investigated how and to what extent religious-based community organizing achieved its goal of “social change.”72 The authors support the findings of others that “religion is a resource for drug users and gang members attempting to reform”73 and outline a process by which religion becomes inserted into and helps achieve the reform goals.They further assert,“not only can religion enable social reform—but that it does so precisely by providing opportunities for personal reform.”74 While not an exact parallel, we are reminded of Paul Lichterman’s concept of “personalism” as a vehicle for enacting public commitment in his study of environmental organizations.75 Lichterman noted, for example, “personalized commitment meant linking individual responsibility to society and the natural environment in general, not to separate persons or separate issues divorced from a social context.”76 The larger point that is central to our argument is that personal reform and social reform are not necessarily at odds; instead, private choices can have public consequences. A Chicago faith-based philanthropy, Community Renewal Society (CRS), financially supported a civic community organization, FORCE (Fighting to Overcome Records and Create Equality), through “faith in action.” CRS organizers held trainings for FORCE members in which they drew from the theologies of faith-based community organizing to rearticulate the meaning of “power,” “self-interest,” and “relationships” as life-affirming, collective, and public. 415

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In sessions with the former prisoners, they then called them to put their “faith into action” by supporting the legislative campaign for a record sealing bill in the State of Illinois legislature.77 “Redemption scripts” was the technique CRS used to demonstrate self-change in the face of barriers to “re-integrate” in conventional ways—including getting a job, a college degree, rebuilding family lives. FORCE participants made public declarations of their wrong life choices without accepting blame but rationalizing their past behavior due to dysfunctional and isolated social environments (criminologists explain this through social learning and differential association theory). A repeated theme among the men is that gang membership escalates without involved parenting practices or youth mentoring.The scripts provide a “way forward” by motivating these men to “pass on their self-knowledge” that might discourage others (principally youth) from modeling themselves after such discredited behaviors.78 The authors noted the interactive nature of personal and social, i.e., structural reform, demonstrating the false dichotomization too often found in sociological literature, as we have attempted to make the case here. For example, citing the lack of good jobs as evidence for continuing anti-social behavior among young men (the school-to-prison pipeline) rings hollow for many who know that the crucial missing variable is these men’s inability to keep the job. In the case of FORCE, members resorted to volunteering opportunities such as coaching basketball and mentoring youth because they were unable to secure good jobs.Their rationale was simply that this was an avenue to re-enter the public sphere. It is not clear whether FORCE provided the necessary training to obtain and retain the “good jobs,” but they guided members to double down on their efforts to reclaim prosocial identities through “redemption scripts.”The emphasis of the program was to recognize the stigma attached to formerly incarcerated people in the job market. Once this is acknowledged, the door opens to the cascading, interpolating, and interlocking causal factors the CDC has concluded requires multi-institutional and comprehensive reform efforts.79 The social experiment in harsh drug sentencing laws of the 1990s (three strikes, zero tolerance, mandatory minimum sentencing, etc.) has been deemed to be a failure by policy experts and the public alike. Four years ago in Illinois, expungement of felony convictions for nonviolent drug offenses (and more) began. This movement will be intensified by a new law scheduled to be in effect in January 2020.80 In the case of FORCE and the Community Renewal Society, formerly incarcerated men were able to demonstrate personal reform while engaging in political action to expand the rights of the formerly incarcerated.

Can religion likewise be used for violent ends? The misuse of religion should not be avoided in a story about religion and violence in the urban setting. Street gangs are major drivers behind violence in Chicago, so they warrant some attention.The formation of the notorious street gang, the El Rukns and their use of Islam, as well as the use of the Star of David by the Gangster Disciples are instructive cases. The connection between the Blackstone Rangers and Islam can be traced to Jeff Fort, the co-founder of the gang who is also responsible for changing their name to El Rukn. Described as a charismatic individual, Fort led several Chicago job-training programs with federal funds in the 1960s.The programs were designed to mediate gang disputes and gang violence but were unsuccessful.81 The El Rukns claimed,“they are peace-loving adherents of Islam and their intent is to spread Allah’s word to the incarcerated. They follow the Qur’an’s teachings and have adopted Sunni Islamic belief structures and prayer regulations.”82 However, the El Rukn’s religious status was denied by the court.Their demand to be recognized as a religion and given the right to freely 416

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practice their Islamic faith83 were rejected on the basis that they were a street gang and there already were Islamic services in Illinois prisons.84 The usage of the Star of David by the Gangster Disciples is, allegedly, to honor one of their founding figures, David Barksdale (1947–1974).85 It is not clear why this symbol appealed to the founders, but the claim is that it represents the virtues of love, life, loyalty, wisdom, knowledge, and understanding.86 In addition to the Jewish symbol, the use of “disciples” originated in the founders looking through the bible for ideas. However, the original group added “Devil’s” to give the name an “intimidating edge.”87 When on the street, the tightly organized gangs appeared to fulfill several of the functions of organized religion: community and a sense of belonging, a code of conduct that constrained street and (to some extent) personal behavior, a personal commitment to the array of tasks required by the gang, and a focus on meeting members’ needs. An example of the latter is reflected in the description of Jeff Fort who behaved “like a godfather, giving shoes to kids who needed them, finding homes for families who were evicted.”88 It could also be argued that charismatic and controlling figures such as the Gangster Disciples’ leader, Larry Hoover (who merged with the Devil’s Disciples in an early truce between the two warring groups and is currently serving a life sentence) and Fort are not unlike powerful clergy leaders whose authority is not challenged. To the extent that faith-based outreach efforts to youth caught up in gangs recognize the source of the power of gang life, their own ability to reach them may be enhanced. For example, a former gang member is currently advocating for a pardon for Hoover, as is Kanye West (“Kanye West is ‘working through God’ to free Hoover,”) because Hoover claimed “I can reach your kids. Let me out of jail.” Hoover’s advocate claims he could bring the “fear of God” back to the street, adding,“I am not saying Larry Hoover is God, but when they took the leaders off the street, they took the street disciplinarian away.”89 Research on another Chicago gang, the Conservative Vice Lords during the 1960s and 1970s by criminologist John Hagedorn, suggests that fruitful gang intervention could be accomplished by guiding members to form a social movement. My main point is this: I believe it is crucial for social movements to reach out and ‘include in the mobilizations the millions who are still left out, including the very large number of young people who inhabit the world of gangs … Dim prospects for success are not a reason to stop trying.’90 Hagedorn discusses how the meaning system of hip-hop culture provides and expresses values for members of gangs. He sees a glimmer of hope in mobilizing these groups for pro-community contributions, while he also appears to avoid considering the potential of faith-based community-organizing groups such as Industrial Areas Foundation and Gamaliel Foundation that are active in Chicago. These brief local examples of the misuse of religion and awkward attempts at reform may suggest the depth of the problem facing those dedicated to re-building communities of people and spaces most damaged by violence.

An unnamed solution to violent conflict: Peace and nonviolence While nonviolent practices as solutions to various forms of violence are compatible with the research cited in this chapter, none of the religious groups we used as illustrations explicitly implemented such strategies. Nonviolent strategies are more often found in the work of “civil resistance” or “nonviolent struggle” for political change. Yet leading scholars in the field of 417

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nonviolence have pointed to the fact that “ordinary people use nonviolent resistance to pursue a wide variety of goals, from challenging entrenched autocrats to seeking territorial self-determination to contesting widespread discriminatory practices.91 Indeed, the American Civil Rights Movement owes its successes to the nonviolent civil disobedience and direct action strategies taught by Mohandas Gandhi, Rev. James Lawson, and led by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. While the work of these leaders is ultimately grounded in religious principles, their work’s preferred classification by academics and the public alike seems to be political social change. An unexpected source of support for nonviolence as a way of life and not merely as a tactic for problem-solving comes from literary theorist and public intellectual, Judith Butler, in a recently published online interview with The New Yorker.92 Butler argues in a forthcoming book, The Force of Nonviolence, that people must imagine an “entirely new way for humans to live together in the world” which is a world of “radical equality.” Butler states, In my experience, the most powerful argument against violence has been grounded in the notion that, when I do violence to another human being, I also do violence to myself, because my life is bound up with this other life. Her argument originates in a critique of Western individualism, which also echoes the sociological insights of George Herbert Mead when he articulated the fundamentally social process of “taking the role of the other” as the basis of human morality, the ability to imagine the situation of other people.93 This leads Butler to assert, “interdependency serves as the basis of our ethical obligations to one another.When we strike at one another, we strike at that very bond.” There are many active social service agencies in Chicago that advance personal and community needs for disadvantaged families and youth.Yet few include nonviolence as an explicit solution to the distress and trauma caused by violent upbringings, neighborhoods, and experiences that have been documented in our programmatic review above. Notwithstanding, Chicago is home to several organizations that teach nonviolence principles and practices, with and without explicit religious foundations, including Precious Blood Ministry of Reconciliation, the Institute for Nonviolence, and NonviolenceWorks. The national organization, Pace e Bene (Peace and All Good) with an active chapter in Chicago, has formed Campaign Nonviolence, which includes the project of creating nonviolent cities. While the principle of nonviolence is rooted in Christian theology, adapted by Gandhi, this principle is not widely understood or practiced, hence Butler’s use of the phrase “radical” equality.

Summary and conclusion This chapter is tasked with explaining the relationship between religion and violence in the urban environment. It is useful first to situate violence in the broader category of conflict. Studies of deviance demonstrate that societies without conflict are dead societies.94 So also with relationships, families, organizations, and cities. Social conflict is a form of sociation, in Simmel’s terms, creating a social order out of attractive and repulsive forms.95 Conflict has the function of clarifying boundaries, solidifying identities, increasing social cohesion against outsiders, strengthening ideological solidarities, and augmenting resource mobilization.96 While conflict can be either constructive or destructive—often both—and is often different for different groups, conflict is a major source of cultural innovation.97 Similarly, religion can be a source of societal conflict, often invoked by both sides in a civic dispute.While we may wish to hold religion to a higher standard, let us recall that, as an institution, religion is created and molded by 418

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the human actors that shape all societal institutions, none of which are exempt from the tensions that constitute human affairs. However, violence is a problem to be solved.Acknowledging its multiple dimensions, causes, and interconnected nature affecting the lives of all people, not only those most socially and economically disadvantaged, helps us grasp its deep-rooted foundations. The structural, individual, and cultural sources of violence are interpenetrating components of action, none to be theoretically privileged. Due to this complexity, effective solutions can be hard to measure.The meta-analyses by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention document this difficulty. This chapter has only been able to discuss indirectly the hidden forms of violence that are not well documented or underreported in crime statistics: child abuse and neglect, partner and family maltreatment through verbal and emotional abuse, and irresponsible parenting. Furthermore, structural poverty, ill health, and discrimination are the preconditions for various forms of personal maltreatment.These conditions are often the circumstances that lead to physical violence, which gets the attention of law enforcement, clearly the post-hoc response. The cyclical and interinstitutional nature of violence has mental health consequences that require a societal wide response. Based on our review, the effectiveness of faith-based programs may appear to hinge on their ability to create new social structures for at-risk youth that incorporate new cultural norms and values. As the principle institutional arena for creating and legitimating meaning systems, religion has the potential for effective intervention.Yet explicit religious messages are generally unwelcome in the public square; faith-based groups may need to adapt new strategies or become educational liaisons that challenge their preferred language and methods of communication.

Notes 1 The authors are grateful to Rhys H.Williams and Kelly Moore for valuable discussions and to Rhys H. Williams for careful reading of an earlier draft.This chapter was greatly improved by Katie Day’s sharp analytical eye. 2 James K. Wellman, Jr. and Kyoko Tokuno, “Is Religious Violence Inevitable?” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion.Vol. 43, No. 3 (September 2004): pp. 291–6. 3 Alex Alvarez and Ronet Bachman, Violence: The Enduring Problem. Second Edn (SAGE Publications, 2014). 4 Johan Galtung, Peace by Peaceful Means: Peace and Conflict, Development and Civilization (Oslo: London: International Peace Research Institute; SAGE, 1996). 5 Kimberly M.Williams,“Chapter 1:The Important Role of Personal Violence at WANTS,” Counterpoints. Vol. 281 (2005): p. 37. 6 Galtung,“Peace,” p. 31. 7 Kathleen Maas Weigert, “Structural Violence,” in Encyclopedia of Violence, Peace, and Conflict, ed., Lester Kurtz (Oxford: Elsevier, 2008): p. 2005. 8 Kathleen Maas Weigert, “Structural Violence Against Women,” in Women, War, and Violence: Topography, Resistance, and Hope, eds, Mariam Kurtz and Lester Kurtz (Praeger Security International Series. Praeger, an Imprint of ABC-CLIO, LLC, 2015): p. 79. 9 Note the pioneering work of psychologist, William Ryan, Blaming the Victim (New York: Pantheon Books, 1971) which challenged the individual-oriented conclusions of the Moynihan Report. 10 Galtung, “Peace,” 1996. 11 Phillip Bradley, Violence:A Position Paper (Unpublished manuscript. 1991/2016): p. 3. 12 Bradley,“Violence,” p. 3. 13 “Federal Housing Administration” Britannica.com. 14 Karen Brodkin, How the Jews Became White Folks and What that Says about Race in America (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1998). 15 This theoretical position is informed by the work of David Rubinstein, Culture, Structure, and Agency: Toward a Truly Multidimensional Society (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE, 2001).

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Elfriede Wedam and Ryan SC Wong 16 Robert J. Sampson and William Julius Wilson,“Toward a Theory of Race, Crime, and Urban Inequality,” in Crime and Inequality, eds, John Hagan and Ruth D. Peterson (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1995). Robert J. Sampson,William Julius Wilson, and Hanna Katz, “Reassessing ‘Toward a Theory of Race, Crime, and Urban Inequality’: Enduring and New Challenges in 21st Century America,” Du Bois Review: Social Science Research on Race. Vol. 15, No. 1 (2019). 17 John Q.Wilson and Richard Herrnstein, Crime and Human Nature:The Definitive Study of the Causes of Crime (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1985). 18 Sampson and Wilson,“Theory of Race,” p. 54. 19 Wilson and Herrnstein,“Crime and Human Nature,” p. 215. 20 J. Robert Lilly, Francis T. Cullen, and Richard A. Ball, Criminological Theory: Context and Consequences (Los Angeles, CA: SAGE, 2007), p. 246. 21 Katherine Tyson McCrea, Maryse Richards, Dakari Quimby, Darrick Scott, Lauren Davis, Sotonye Hart,Andre Thomas, and Symora Hopson,“Understanding Violence and Developing Resilience with African American Youth in High-Poverty, High-Crime Communities,” Children and Youth Services Review. Vol. 99 (April 2019). 22 For review, read Douglas Massey and Nancy Denton, American Apartheid: Segregation and the Making of the Underclass (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993); Sampson and Wilson, “Theory of Race,” 1995; Sampson,Wilson, and Katz,“Reassessing,” 2018. 23 William Julius Wilson, The Truly Disadvantaged (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1987). 24 Robert E. Park and Ernest Burgess, The City (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press 1925), p. 40. 25 Andrew V. Papachristos and Sara Bastomski, “Connected in Crime: The Enduring Effect of Neighborhood Networks on the Spatial Patterning of Violence,” American Journal of Sociology. Vol. 124, No. 2 (September 2018): p. 519 26 Papachristos and Bastomski,“Connected in Crime,” p. 526. 27 Robert J. Sampson, Stephen W. Raudenbush, and Felton Earls,“Neighborhoods and Violent Crime:A Multilevel Study of Collective Efficacy,” Science. Vol. 277, No. 5328 (1997). 28 Sampson et al.,“Reassessing,” p. 16. 29 Sampson et al.,“Reassessing,” p. 20. 30 Travis Pratt and Frances Cullen, “Assessing Macro-Level Predictors and Theories of Crime: A MetaAnalysis,” Crime and Justice 32 (2005). 31 Rubinstein, Culture, Structure, Agency, pp. 15, 151–5. 32 Rubinstein, Culture, Structure, Agency, p. 184. 33 McCrea et al.,“Understanding violence.” 34 McCrea et al.,“Understanding violence,” p. 299. 35 McCrea et al.,“Understanding violence,” p. 299. 36 Jonathan Goldner,Tracy L. Peters, Maryse H. Richards, and Steven Pearce, “Exposure to Community Violence and Protective and Risky Contexts among Low Income Urban African American Adolescents: A Prospective Study,” Journal of Youth and Adolescence. Vol. 40, No. 2 (2011). 37 Keane et al., 2018; Jonathan Goldner, Dakari Quimby, Maryse H. Richards, Arie Zakaryan, Steve Miller, Daniel Dickson, and Jessica Chilson, “Relations of Parenting to Adolescent Externalizing and Internalizing Distress Moderated by Perception of Neighborhood Danger,” Journal of Clinical Child & Adolescent Psychology. Vol. 45, No. 2 (2016). 38 Centers for Disease Control and Prevention,A Comprehensive Technical Package for the Prevention of Youth Violence and Associated Risk Behaviors, 2016. 39 CDC, Youth Violence, pp. 39, 42. 40 CDC, Youth Violence, p. 39. 41 CDC, Youth Violence, p. 35. 42 “The Untouchables” was the name given to Eliot Ness and the FBI team that pursued organized crime syndicates during Prohibition and popularized in television and movies by that name. 43 Arthur J. Lurigio,“Homicide in Chicago:Yesterday,Today, and Tomorrow,” in Symposium on Nonviolence, Loyola University Chicago, November 4, 2017. 44 Lukas Mikeleonis, “Chicago Reduces Murder Rate in 2018 but Level Still Outstrips LA and NY Combined.” Fox News, January 2, 2019. 45 Aamer Madhani,“Baltimore is the Nation’s Most Dangerous Big City,” USA Today, February 19, 2018. www.usatoday.com/story/news/2018/02/19/homicides-toll-big-u-s-cities-2017/302763002/. 46 Francesca Mirabile and Daniel Nass,“What’s the Homicide Capital of America? Murder Rates in U.S. Cities, Ranked,” The Trace, April 26, 2018, Updated October 1, 2019. www.thetrace.org/2018/04/ highest-murder-rates-us-cities-list/.

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Religion and violence in the urban context 47 Lurigio,“Homicide in Chicago:Yesterday,Today, and Tomorrow.” 48 The following 10 of 77 Chicago community areas consistently have the highest incidents of violent crime: Humboldt Park, Austin, North Lawndale, West Garfield Park, South Shore, West Englewood, Englewood, Greater Grand Crossing, Roseland, and Auburn-Gresham. www.centerforilpolitics.org/ articles/weve-got-the-rap-of-being-the-most-violent-city-in-the-nation-heres-a-detailed-look-atwhy-and-our-best-way-out. 49 David Olson, “Crime in Chicago.” Class presentation, Sociology 216/394, Loyola University Chicago, February 23, 2017. www.chicagotribune.com/data/ct-shooting-victims-map-charts-h tmlstory.html. 50 Centers for Disease Control and Prevention,“Leading Causes of Death Reports,”WISQARS. https:// webappa.cdc.gov/sasweb/ncipc/leadcause.html. 51 Aamer Madhani,“Chicago Cop Jason Van Dyke Sentenced to More than 6 Years for Murder of Laquan McDonald,” USA Today, January 18, 2019. 52 Craig Wall,“Rahm Emanuel Defends Handling of Laquan McDonald Murder as Showtime Documentary Premieres June 14,” ABC7 Eyewitness News, May 15, 2019. https://abc7chicago.com/politics/ emanuel-defends-handling-of-laquan-mcdonald-murder-as-showtime-documentary-airs-june14/5302357/. Rebecca Burns, “The Laquan McDonald Email Dump Shows Rahm Emanuel’s Administration in Crisis Mode,” In These Times, January 5, 2016. http://inthesetimes.com/article/ 18729/laquan-mcdonald-rahm-emanuel-emails-foia. 53 Mark Chaves and Alison J. Eagle, “Congregations and Social Services: An Update from the Third Wave of the National Congregations Study,” Religions. Vol. 7, No. 55 (19 May 2016): pp. 1–9, Creative Commons Attribution. 54 See Mark Chaves and Shawna L. Anderson, “Continuity and Change in American Congregations: Introducing the Second Wave of the American Congregations Study,” Sociology of Religion. Vol. 69, No. 4 (2008): pp. 415–40; Mark Chaves and Shawna L. Anderson, “Changing American Congregations: Findings from the Third Wave of the National Congregations Study,” Journal of the Scientific Study of Religion. Vol. 53, No. 4 (2014): pp. 676–86. 55 Mark Chaves, personal correspondence,April 17, 2020. 56 Chaves and Eagle,“Congregations and Social Services,” p. 4. 57 Mark Chaves and William Tsitsos,“Congregations and Social Services:What They Do, How They Do It, and with Whom,” Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Quarterly. Vol. 30, No. 4 (December 2001): pp. 660–83. 58 Rhys H.Williams and R. Stephen Warner,“Creating a Diverse Urban Evangelicalism:Youth Ministry as a Model,” in Michael Cromartie, ed., A Public Faith: Evangelicals and Civic Engagement (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2003). 59 Williams and Warner,“Youth Ministry,” p. 208. 60 Williams and Warner,“Youth Ministry,” p. 209. 61 Ibid., p. 209. 62 Ibid., p. 209. 63 Rhys H.Williams, Courtney Ann Irby, and R. Stephen Warner,‘“Church’ in Black and White:The Organizational Lives of Young Adults,” Religions. Vol. 7 (July 2016), p. 90. doi:10.3390/rel7070090. 64 Kyle Deane, Maryse Richards, Michaela Mozley, Darrick Scott, Catherine Rice, and James Garbarino, “Posttraumatic Stress, Family Functioning, and Externalizing in Adolescents Exposed to Violence: A Moderated Mediation Model,” Journal of Clinical Child & Adolescent Psychology. Vol. 47:sup1 (2018). https://DOI: 10.1080/15374416.2016.1197836; Jonathan S. Goldner, Dakari Quimby, Maryse H. Richards, Arie Zakaryan, Steve Miller, Daniel Dickson, and Jessica Chilson, “Relations of Parenting to Adolescent Externalizing and Internalizing Distress Moderated by Perception of Neighborhood Danger,” Journal of Clinical Child & Adolescent Psychology. Vol. 45, No. 2 (2016). Lurigio, Arthur J. “Homicide in Chicago:Yesterday,Today, and Tomorrow,” in Symposium on Nonviolence, Loyola University Chicago, November 4, 2017. 65 Richard J. Petts, “Is Urban Fathers’ Religion Important for Their Children’s Behavior?” Review of Religious Research. Vol. 53, No. 2 (2011): p. 183. 66 Williams and Warner,“Youth Ministry,” p. 210. 67 Goldner, Jonathan,Tracy L. Peters, Maryse H. Richards, and Steven Pearce,“Exposure to Community Violence and Protective and Risky Contexts Among Low Income Urban African American Adolescents:A Prospective Study,” Journal of Youth and Adolescence. Vol. 40, No. 2 (2011). 68 Christian Smith, American Evangelicalism: Embattled and Thriving (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1998). 69 Williams and Warner,“Youth Ministry,” p. 212.

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Elfriede Wedam and Ryan SC Wong 70 Paul D. Numrich and Elfriede Wedam, Religion and Community in the New Urban America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), p. 249. 71 John Paul Lederach, The Little Book of Conflict Transformation (Intercourse, PA: GoodBooks, 2003), p. 29. 72 Edward Flores and Jennifer E. Cossyleon, “‘I Went Through it so You Don’t Have To’: Faith-Based Community Organizing for the Formerly Incarcerated,” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion. Vol. 55, No. 4 (2016). 73 Ibid., p. 665. 74 Ibid., p. 667. 75 Paul Lichterman, “Beyond the Seesaw Model: Public Commitment in a Culture of Self-Fulfillment,” Sociological Theory. Vol. 13, No. 3 (1995). 76 Ibid., p. 289. 77 Flores and Cosseyleon,“I Went Through It,” pp. 667–8. 78 Ibid., pp. 669–71. 79 CDC,“Youth Violence,” 2016. 80 Kathleen Foody,“Illinois Governor Clears Thousands of Marijuana Convictions,” AP News, December 31, 2019. https://apnews.com/2536e69f5b4a6d80faa26a1837158581. 81 Phoebe Mogharei, “From the Vault: The Making of Jeff Fort,” Chicago Magazine, November 5, 2018. www.chicagomag.com/Chicago-Magazine/November-2018/The-Making-of-Jeff-Fort/2019 82 Sarah Nordgren, “El Rukns: Gang or Religion?” Associated Press, December 3, 1985. www.apnews. com/66ce81d7425c9aff978bb506e81708a8. 83 E.R. Shipp, “Chicago Gang Sues to Be Recognized as Religion,” The New York Times, December 27, 1985. www.nytimes.com/1985/12/27/us/chicago-gang-sues-to-be-recognized-as-religion.html. 84 Jerry Crimins, “Gang’s Religion Label Rejected,” Chicago Tribune, June 2, 1986. www.chicagotribune. com/news/ct-xpm-1986-06-02-8602100437-story.html. 85 “What is the GD Gang Six-Point Star?” Reference. www.reference.com/government-politics/gd-gangsix-point-star-b369ae893543d3f0.“Black Disciples,” Chicago Gang History. https://chicagoganghistory. com/gang/black-disciples/. 86 “What is the GD Gang Six-Point Star?”Reference.www.reference.com/world-view/gd-gang-six-pointstar-b369ae893543d3f0. 87 “Black Disciples,” Chicago Gang History. https://chicagoganghistory.com/gang/black-disciples/. 88 Mogharei,“From the Vault,” p. 2. 89 Main, Frank, “If Larry Hoover Were Freed, He’d Bring ‘Fear of God’ to Streets, Advocate Says,” Chicago Sun-Times, October 11, 2018. https://chicago.suntimes.com/2018/10/11/1840421/iflarry-hoover-were-freed-he-d-bring-fear-of-god-to-streets-advocate-says. 90 John M. Hagedorn, A World of Gangs: Armed Young Men and Gangsta Culture (St. Paul, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2008), pp. 141–2. 91 Erica Chenoweth and Kathleen Gallagher,“Understanding Nonviolent Resistance: An Introduction,” Journal of Peace Research. Vol. 50, No. 3 (2013), p. 271. 92 Masha Gessen,“Judith Butler Wants Us to Reshape Our Rage,” The NewYorker, February 9, 2020. www. newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-interview/judith-butler-wants-us-to-reshape-our-rage. 93 George Herbert Mead, Mind, Self, and Society (Chicago, IL:The University of Chicago Press, 1967). 94 Michael O. Emerson, Susanne C. Monahan, and William A. Mirola. Religion Matters: What Sociology Teaches Us About Religion in our World (Pearson Education Inc., 2011). 95 Lester Kurtz, Gods in the Global Village:The World’s Religions in Sociological Perspective (Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge Press, 1995), p. 210. 96 Emerson et al., Religion Matters. 97 Kurtz, Gods in the Global Village, p. 211.

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Religion and violence in the urban context Shipp, E.R. “Chicago Gang Sues to Be Recognized as Religion.” New York Times. December 27, 1985, Accessed November 19, 2019. www.nytimes.com/1985/12/27/us/chicago-gang-sues-to-be-recog nized-as-religion.html. Smith, Christian. American Evangelicalism: Embattled and Thriving (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1998). Wall, Craig. “Rahm Emanuel Defends Handling of Laquan McDonald Murder as Showtime Documentary Premieres June 14.” ABC7 Eyewitness News. https://abc7chicago.com/politics/emanueldefends-handling-of-laquan-mcdonald-murder-as-showtime-documentary-airs-june-14/5302357/. Williams, Kimberly M. “Chapter 1: The Important Role of Personal Violence at WANTS.” Counterpoints 281 (2005): pp. 37–51. Williams, Rhys H., Courtney Ann Irby, and R. Stephen Warner. “’Church’ in Black and White: The Organizational Lives of Young Adults.” Religions 7, No. 7 (2016): p. 90. Williams, Rhys H. and R. Stephen Warner. “Creating a Diverse Urban Evangelicalism:Youth Ministry as a Model.” In A Public Faith: Evangelicals and Civic Engagement, ed., Michael Cromartie (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2003), pp. 205–14. Wilson, James Q. and Richard Herrnstein. Crime and Human Nature:The Definitive Study of the Causes of Crime (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1985).

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29 CITIES AND THE CHALLENGE OF CLIMATE CHANGE Imagining “Good Cities” in a time of dystopia Clive Pearson

Time is a “frenemy” The present is fast becoming a kairos time for cities.The signs of the times are ominous: there is a deepening sense of urgency which has led to a procession of city-based jurisdictions around the world signing declarations naming the present to be a time of climate emergency.1 The future resilience of cities is bound up with what the urban theorist Douglas Kelbaugh has described as “the greatest crisis ever to face humanity: [climate change] is qualitatively and quantitatively different from the chronic problems that have plagued humans since our beginning.”2 The burgeoning body of reports and monographs on cities and climate change are united in one conviction: the greatest number of people likely to be impacted by this change will be living in cities. That prospect lends itself to contested opinions. Will this future bear witness to the optimistic claim made by the C40 Network of Global Cities, which believes that its partners “are taking bold climate action, leading the way toward a healthier, more sustainable future”?3 Or will that future be more dystopic? Those writing in the field are clear: the future of cities is not what it used to be.4 The cities capable of making the necessary transitions will be “agile,” “cool,” “pioneering.” and “exemplary.”5 The need for “reinvention” and “transformation” requires cities to become “urban climate innovation laboratories”; time has meanwhile become a “frenemy.”6 There is time to mitigate the effects of urban heat, but the shift in global climate patterns is relentless and does not bode well.

The need for a kairotic public theology For world religions that espouse doctrines of creation and assign a specific vocation of care, responsibility, and intercession to Homo sapiens, there is much at stake.The spectacle of anthropogenic climate change more generally puts great pressure on one point of doctrine after another, not least on those to do with providence,7 theodicy, and what it means for human subjects to bear the imago Dei as one being among many creaturely beings. For a Christian theology the matter is not simply one of placing the species and cities, in particular, within a theology of creation and an accompanying religious ethic that is “Earth-honoring.”8 The importance of such sits alongside the plausibility of how the person and work of Christ is to be expressed in 426

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a manner that delves into theories of Deep Incarnation9 and the redemptive purpose of the “one in whom, through whom and for whom all things were made” (Colossians 1:15–20). For a theology seeking to address the threat of climate change to cities there is a knot to disentangle: cities are pre-eminent sites of human creativity both in terms of their establishment and their subsequent capacity.The earthly city is indeed a site of human aspiration and achievement where a politics of sinful excess mingles with moments of grace and justice; it will always fall short of the perfection of the heavenly city, the city of God. So many questions in practice arise.Are encyclicals and statements like Pope Francis’ Laudato Si’ and the Islamic Declaration on Climate Change able to make the transition into a very different future? Are the religions they represent able to address the worrying mix of issues surrounding the world’s population explosion, the rapidly increasing level of urbanization, the possibility of a hothouse Earth, and the “adaptability deficit” that many cities face? For religious practice the task is daunting.The well-rehearsed discussion on what makes for a good city fastens upon anthropocentric categories abounding in divisions across class and race. It does so around discourses of regeneration, the reinvention of space, the mixing of peoples and cultures, hybridity and third spaces, and the demographic pressure upon expanding urban limits. It may focus on the quality of architecture, infrastructure, density, matters of justice, and how the poor and the stranger are managed. The practice has been to think of urban space as a cultural construct and a place of social relations. What constitutes a good city weaves together aesthetics and principles of moral virtue to do with truth, beauty, and hospitality. If faith and theology become involved, the metaphor of the city can lie behind the desire to build faithful capital that will nourish particular communities, especially those deemed to be disadvantaged. On very few occasions is the deepening urgency of writers from other disciplines on climate change and cities captured. This is not to say that there are not religious bodies dedicated to Earth ministries, sustainability, and recycling. This type of work is being done at levels of the personal, the congregational, across faiths, and in the neighborhood. It can manifest itself further in protests like those associated with Extinction Rebellion and the schoolchildren’s climate strike, 2019. For the most part, the religious and theological response to the intersection of climate change and cities is performed without reference to the interdisciplinary “global research agenda” in the field. Is that why there are “storm clouds” gathering over our cities? Kelbaugh rightly argues that what is gathering momentum for many coastal and estuarine cities especially is of an altogether different order: “what constitutes climate change is qualitatively and quantitatively different” from previous crises that have threatened humanity.The current generations are bearing witness to the passing of the Holocene epoch during the course of which the climate was sufficiently benign for human flourishing and the evolution of great cities and civilizations. Kelbaugh noted that “[w]e are an intelligent, adaptable and fecund species that has burgeoned and prospered during a fortuitous epoch.” It allowed us “to develop farming and cities, which in turned have spurred and sponsored very complex, advanced societies.”10 From the perspective of a biogeophysical Earth System science,Will Steffen et al. advise that this flourishing came into being within a particular stability landscape: it fell within a glacial/ inter-glacial limit cycle.11 Those fluctuations that occurred through time existed within certain parameters, which ebbed and flowed somewhat like a meandering, braided river that nevertheless kept to its banks. Now the Earth and the inhabitants of its cities is faced with the prospect of tipping points, climate feedbacks, and abrupt changes. History itself is giving way to conceptions of “deep time” wherein the Earth System itself becomes as much of a player as the human species. 427

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Those of us who have lived since 1945 inhabit a deeply ambiguous space.We are the beneficiaries of “the Great Acceleration”: the standard of living has greatly increased for so many. Urban life has proliferated; the Earth’s population has grown exponentially. These things have come at a cost. The effect on the “planetary dashboard,” which marks the impact of human socioeconomic trends on the Earth System via 24 indicators, has been profound. The graphs across time have been likened to a hockey stick. Michael Mann and his colleagues invented this icon, which imagined a hockey stick lying on its shaft to depict changes in the Earth’s temperature from ad 1000 onward.The abrupt changes in heat from the mid-twentieth century onward are like the upward curve of the blade.12 The present has become a kairos moment: no previous generations in human history have self-consciously lived through a change in geological eras. J.R. McNeill and Peter Engelke declare that the “Holocene is over and something new has begun: the Anthropocene,” the age of humans.13 Kelbaugh notes in a rather understated way that “our carbon-based civilization has now turned into the Anthropocene Age.”14 It is unclear what that might mean for life together; indeed, for life itself. Steffen et al. have situated this new age inside a trajectory that lies outside the restraints of the previous limit cycle. Kelbaugh wonders whether the “planet will yawn and move on” without us and thus without our cities.15 It is arguably the case that the climate emergency confronting cities requires a “kairotic public theology.”Writing in his Interruption and Imagination Kjetil Fretheim made a call for such in response to the climate crisis in general. Fretheim shows no specific interest in cities: the “key characteristics” he identifies amount to principles of good praxis, nevertheless.A kairotic public theology should commence with “a comprehensive empirical, critical and normative social analysis” of the crisis. It should recognize a “primary loyalty with the poor oppressed, and suffering” without sacrificing a “broad dialogue with experts.”16 For the sake of a relevant theology of cities and climate change Fretheim’s thesis sits well with Philip Sheldrake’s understanding of the city being a “public arena” and a site for “public life.” The very idea of a city is indeed “a powerful paradigm of public existence.”17 The focus of Sheldrake’s work is not on the environment, however. His interest lies in making the case for the spiritual city.The city is more than a place that is “an efficient socioeconomic mechanism or convenient but impersonal administrative system.”18 It should be seen as a “sacred space” that offers the potential for “some kind of moral or spiritual vision with the power to hold cities together.” It should be “capable of promoting co-existence between strangers.”19 It lends itself as such to an inclusive vision of solidarity for citizens who are committed to a common good. For Sheldrake, to “live publicly implies learning how to be truly hospitable to what is different, unfamiliar, distasteful or even feared.”20

A global research agenda There is much work to be done before theology and religions become a recognized part of the urban responses to climate change.The primary emphasis to date has been on the relationship of climate scientists to policy-makers and urban practitioners; given the nature, function, and complexity of cities, that emphasis has been extended to accommodate the practice of business and good governance. For the sake of a plausible public theology there is a need to become familiar with initiatives already taken. It is an absence that must be addressed in the light of Kelbaugh’s call for climate preparedness on the basis of climate change being a “threat multiplier”;21 the likelihood is one of cascading effects on urban life where the provision of water, sanitation,

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energy, transport, and emergency health services impact on one another and the quality of life is impaired. There have been a number of research initiatives beginning with the setting up of the Urban Climate Research Network at the C40 Large Cities Climate Summit in New York (2007);22 the task it set itself is the provision of a co-created knowledge for “urban decision-makers to enhance climate science-based policymaking on low emissions development and resilience.” The UCRN has specifically targeted “cities of all geographies, sizes and income levels.”To this end, it has set up regional hubs, held stakeholder consultations, and released two major reports (including case studies), ARC3.1 and ARC3.2.23 These reports, along with similar work done by the World Bank (since the 5th Urban Research Symposium, 2009), must become a part of the fabric of religious and theological thinking on cities in a future marked by climate crisis.24 For the current purpose the focus falls upon Working Group II of the International Panel on Climate Change. Section 8 of its submission to the 5th Assessment Report (AR5 2014) called upon the IPCC “to pay greater attention to the role of cities.”25 Its concluding statement specified the need for a “global research agenda” established on the basis of “The Science We Need for the Cities We Want.”That agenda would in due course become the theme of the Edmonton Conference on Cities and Climate Change (2018). It was recognized that what was required for addressing the deepening crisis was a series of cross-sectoral work that includes urban planners, climate scientists, and activists.26 Such was necessary because the Report had noted that cities had become home for over half of the world’s population and that this percentage was increasing. Some cities were already becoming mega-cities, with that number destined to rise exponentially. The prospect of further migration to cities, itself a feature of changing climate patterns, will only intensify the urgency of the pressures brought to bear on measures of mitigation and adaptation. Those campaigning within the IPCC mounted much evidence.The Report noted how urban living produced 70% of carbon emissions and that cities were the largest consumers of energy. It was clear that cities of any size have the capacity to alter micro- and sometimes regional climates. It was predicted that the inhabitants of cities will be the largest population cohort most likely to experience the impacts of climate change. Of particular concern was how the Report anticipated serious problems of resilience. The core difficulty resides in the intersection of the adaptive capacity of a city and its developmental deficit. Three quarters of the world’s population and most of its large cities––soon to become mega-cities—are now in low- and middle-income nations. Working Group II had discerned that resilience involved “more than identifying and acting on specific climate challenges.” For the sake of robust resilience, work must be done on the particular city’s interconnected infrastructure and systems. The Report concluded that resilience was not simply the capacity to recover; at its best, it should be able to afford early warning systems and thus minimize risk. This Report called for collaborative research: there was a frank recognition that in most if not all instances, the levels of governance, planning, and management were not adequately prepared for the level of co-operation required to meet the regular onset of “not normal” climate events. Too often there is a lack of funding and technical expertise.Too often the political pressure of short-term priorities of economic growth outweighed longer-term sustainability. The emphasis on governance was a tacit recognition of how climate stress on cities is likely to contribute to violent conflicts. It will compromise food security both in terms of provision to the city and distribution within; the failure of particular cities to adapt to climate risk is likely to discourage new investment and lead business to move or expand to locations that afford greater resilience. The Report did conclude with an acknowledgement

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of the importance of local knowledge, the quality of civil society, and the work of voluntary organizations.There was no reference to the role of religious traditions.

The advent of “extreme cities” From the perspective of a viable kairotic public theology, the managing of risk through the inclusion of climate science in urban planning bears witness to the critical importance of transdisciplinary expertise. For the religious life, it is insufficient to limit policy to a business-as-usual model and refer the problem of how to deal with climate change to a “higher authority upstairs” (along with “prayers for rain”)—as indeed happened during the apocalyptic-looking bushfires in Australia from the end of 2019 to 2020. Such default positions were entirely inadequate in the face of “monstrous fires” that left firefighters out of adjectives to describe what was unfolding. That line of response failed to recognize that a threshold had been crossed; what was unfolding lay outside what could be expected during the fire season. It did not discern the need for religious thinking to engage with a predictive climate science based on well-researched empirical evidence. The paradigm shift referred to by Kelbaugh implies the prospect of mitigation and adaptation being either insufficient or too slow in its arrival. The Holocene is giving way to the Anthropocene. Intimations of what might lie in the future has led to talk of “extreme cities.” Ashley Dawson defines these cities not in terms of size, but rather the capacity to “weather the storms that are bearing down upon humanity.”This definition is motivated by a concern for “the precariousness of urban life” and “the coming climate chaos.”27 In making use of this language Dawson distances himself from “the jargon of resilience.”28 From the perspective of the climate emergency, resilience remains preferable to the principle of sustainability which is deemed to be essentially “a static, defensive mode”; resilience is presumed to be “fluid, adopting a nimble, dynamic pose.” Its attraction lies in the expectation of its quality of “bounce back,” but Dawson is wary. Faced with a future without an analogue, Dawson concludes that the appeal of resilience lies more in “the sheen of hope it offers.”29 There is need for sharper religious thinking than has hitherto been the case. The ecumenical linking of sustainability, justice, and the integrity of creation was made prior to the recognition of the radical rupture wrought by the Anthropocene. In this new period the concern is one of whether the resilience of cities will be temporary. Is a bounce back to what was previously normal possible? Dawson is sharply attuned to the implications of climate change and how they will play themselves out in forms of social deprivation. It is recognized that contemporary cities are the hubs of the vast, globe-spanning infrastructures of energy, water, waste, material goods, communications, and capital.30 These are functions of capitalism and they render the role of cities ambiguous. Kelbaugh prefers a series of terms to do with the “urban (environmental and thermal) paradox”: cities contribute greatly to climate change through their carbon emissions; they enjoy an agglomeration of benefits that provide them with synergies of financial and political power and creativity.31 Dawson perceives here the potential for the menace of climate change being converted into a business opportunity that disregards the depth of risk posed. He cites Matthew Kahn who argues that cities will thrive in a hotter future because climate change will “create enormous demand for new products to protect people” and provide an incentive for innovative “green entrepreneurs.”32 Writing on extreme cities, Dawson offers a perspective for a public theology that transcends the detached nature of much discussion surrounding climate science and urban planning. It is a common practice for the threat to humankind to be assessed on a global scale and in the future tense.33 The tendency is for climate prediction to be done at a remove from the specificities of 430

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where most people live or are likely to live.This emphasis on specificity runs against the grain of the custom of not assigning any particular weather event to climate change.The dilemma that arises lies in the way in which [w]eather events, the day-to-day expression of climate, do not occur at a global or hemispheric scale. Severe storms, flood, heat waves, droughts, and, perhaps most important, daily fluctuations in temperature only occur in any experiential way at the scale of regions.34 The irony is not difficult to discern.The discussion on global and future trends is increasingly interrupted by the repeated inclusion of references to seemingly unprecedented storms and diverse risks: this list could include Hurricane Katrina (New Orleans) and Superstorm Sandy (New York), the seemingly never-ending sequence of ever-strengthening typhoons pummeling cities in the Philippines and the lack of water supply in Cape Town. This present focus on the specifics of cities and weather events is critically necessary. The stakes have been heightened since Brian Stone set the case for such in his The City and the Coming Climate (2012). The prologue to his enquiry into “climate changes in the places we live” began with the La Canicule —the great heatwave—which swept through Europe in 2003, “the single most catastrophic weather event to be visited on Europe … during the period in which weather observations have been recorded.”35 Throughout his text Stone was able to insert words of warning:“the central lesson of this crisis: heat kills quietly”;36 “the impacts of climate change at the urban scale are profoundly greater than the impacts of climate change at the global scale”;37 “[c]ities do not cause heat waves—they amplify them”;38 “to live in a large city today is to live on the leading edge of the most rapidly changing environmental conditions ever experienced by humans—and to not even know it.”39 The experience of this event allowed Stone to weave together a number of discrete themes: the onset and deepening of a public health emergency, the heat resilience of bodies, the stress placed on urban infrastructure, the mass climate-displacement of peoples, the effect of urban heat islands, and the economic costs liable to flow from such extreme events. La Canicule served as a means to make the case for changes to the land-surface being considered as much a cause for rising temperatures as the levels of greenhouse gases.40 It allowed him to place the urban setting alongside and within the debates to do with glaciation and declining levels of albedo [the level of light that is reflected from a surface without being absorbed] while examining rising seasurface temperatures.Through empirical studies Stone set records of the hottest recorded years so far in particular cities within their longer-term graphs. The evidence Stone assembled was used to counter arguments that climate change was not happening, that it was caused primarily by alterations in solar radiation, or that the Earth System itself will rectify anomalies “through natural feedback mechanisms.”41 The purpose of Stone’s enquiry had been three-fold. It sought to differentiate global- from regional-scale climate change processes.The second aim was to make more clearly known the role of land-use change in driving climate change in both rural and urban environments.The third anticipated the work of ARS5: Stone was deeply concerned that the global policy framework in place at the time of writing “impedes more effective actions in cities” by failing to address the causes of urban heat. It was time for significant change in the surface composition and the spatial organization and geometry of city design in order for urban environments to be resilient to climate extremes. Stone’s prophetic text culminated in the question:“To what extent will cities choose to manage their own climate fate?”The case is made for cities being “not simply bystanders to external influences outside their control; they are active agents in the process 431

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of regional-scale climate change processes.”42 They possess the capacity for degrees of urban climate management through sunscreening (shade and green canopies), greenbelting (retaining zones around cities designated to be left undeveloped, wild, or agricultural), and the reduction of direct emissions of waste heat and other carbon cooling systems.

One such city … It is not difficult to list an imposing array of coastal and estuarine cities deemed to be most at risk to rising sea levels, and others whose green and blue infrastructure is susceptible to the thirst of a diminution of water supply, the apocalyptic-seeming ravages of fire/hazardous smoke, designated superstorms, subsidence, and the choke of atmospheric pollution. Dawson refers to Miami, New York, New Orleans, Lagos, Mumbai, Guangzhou, Jakarta, Delhi,Venice and Dhaka, among many others like Cape Town and Los Angeles that could be cited. One such city is in some respects surprising. According to The Economist Intelligence Unit (2019), Sydney is the “third most liveable city” in the world.43 At face value, its place on the global index does not appear to warrant inclusion in the category of extreme cities.The criteria across five broad categories—stability, health care, culture, environment, and education—placed Sydney marginally behind Vienna and Melbourne. In a rather prescient way, the former state premier Bob Carr presented an alternative dystopic view of the city.Writing in Run for Your Life,44 Carr imagines that the year is now 2050. It is not unusual for those concerned with the climate emergency to speculate on what life might be like a generation or two down the track, and for those yet to be born. Carr describes a Sydney unlike what formerly constituted a liveable city: there are few birds; the airport is now under water; sea walls protect the harbor; it is October (Spring) and the temperature is consistently around 49°C (120.2°F).There are fiery conflagrations in the national parks surrounding the city and the water-bearing drones cannot put the fires out.The aged Carr and his wife live in one of Sydney’s tower blocks. It goes by the name of the Grand Survivors’ Retirement Community. The city has now become a city of environmental refugees for those from the outback, lowlying islands in the Pacific, and flooded lands in South Asia. There are no deniers of climate change anymore; their use-by date has expired.What characterizes the ethos of the people is the rage of the young: they are people filled with anger and indignation at what they have inherited. The term Youth Rage is now capitalized. It is universal. Carr has composed an urban dystopia.What could not have been foreseen was how future scenarios could collapse in so short a time: Carr’s dystopic vision was becoming increasingly realized by late 2019. On the back of drought, searing temperatures, and high winds, the fire warning was raised repeatedly to a catastrophic level: five fires merged to create a megafire to the immediate north while other fires raged to the west and south. The air quality rose to an unprecedented level of 11 times greater than the levels adjudged to be hazardous; the cityscape became one of smoke-filled streets while the media warned about the danger to health posed by PM2.5 particulates in the air and the futility of almost all types of face masks. Some schools closed; children were not allowed outside at interval times; life guards closed beaches, and harbor ferries did not operate on some days due to poor visibility; outdoor workers downed tools. The usual sound of summer, the chorus of cicadas, was silent.The Royal Botanic Gardens was needing to make decisions on determining which plants should be allowed to die for the sake of water for others.With no prospect of rain on the horizon, talk began to turn to whether this state of affairs might be a new normal. The colloquial idiom to describe a large city as “The Big Smoke” was acquiring an altogether different meaning.There was much anger at political mismanagement of the crisis. 432

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A tale of two cities One year prior to this turn of events an initiative had been taken which was designed to anticipate how Sydney might meet the challenge of climate change. The district plan adopted by the Greater Sydney Commission divided Sydney into three cities.45 Carr was writing from the eastern seaboard.The climate that lies within the other two cities—Riverside or central city and Parklands or the western city—is very different.These latter two cities fell under the scope of the Western Sydney Regional Organisations of Councils (WSROC) which issued a strategy and action plan around about the same time as the publication of Carr’s dystopia. Western Sydney is at an uncomfortable distance from Carr’s invaded harborside.The region is bordered by the Blue Mountains in the west and picture postcard Sydney to the east. Its population is growing at an unprecedented rate, disproportionate to the rest of the city, and much higher than what is normally found in the developed world due to overseas migration. Its problems are not rising sea levels but rather one of those other markers of the climate emergency—the problem of “the silent killer”: extreme heat and heat stress. The demographic pressure Western Sydney is experiencing coincides with a cluster of other factors: the intensity of development, the reduction of green infrastructure, and an observable greater pressure being brought to bear on transport and health services.These pressures are compounded because of the way in which urbanization—and thus how we use place and space for inhabiting and dwelling—lends itself to higher temperatures. Urban heat tends to be hotter than rural surrounds due to roads and roofs absorbing, holding, and re-radiating heat. Urbanization can see green spaces replaced with hard surfaces. The theme of the report was Turn Down the Heat.46 In terms of privilege and risk it can be up to 15°C (27°F) hotter in the west than the east. It was now becoming commonplace for each year to set new records.The record set at the turn of 2020 is now 48.9°C (120°F). The consequences are profound and far-reaching, beginning with health and mortality rates. Extreme heat leads to “excess deaths.” Human beings are endotherms.There are “upper limits to human thermal tolerance.”47 It is now recognized that heatwaves kill more Australians than any other natural disaster. Those most vulnerable are the elderly, children, and those with existing medical conditions.As people age there is a relative decline in the ability to regulate body temperature.There is a spike in emergency admissions mainly due to cardiac and respiratory problems, mental health, and dehydration.48 Those statistics should be placed alongside the effects of fire/smoke and the likely further drift southward of tropical diseases like dengue fever.49 Many public spaces become unusable; the social isolation of the elderly is compounded.50 Extreme heat leads to the demands on energy and water to soar. Residential electricity is 3 to 4 times greater on days over 35°C (95°F) degrees.51 The level of energy consumption between western and eastern Sydney is 100% higher in the west.52 These effects can be placed alongside the vulnerability of trees and animals. This report had come into being because of the need to plan a coherent response that went beyond individual councils and pilot projects. The ARS5 report had noted that management and governance of cities in the service of climate preparedness is often compromised by the multiplicity of jurisdictions. The vision was for a “greener, cooler, more liveable and resilient” region.53 The report was requesting its readers to be “advocates for urban heat to be recognized as a priority issue for Western Sydney.”54 The task was to set targets, identify drivers, and strategies in the service of a co-ordinated plan involving transport, business, emergency services, housing, blue infrastructure (active and passive water) and green infrastructure (trees and urban forest). It was recognized that failure in one area of supply—like electricity—can affect another—the delivery of water.55 433

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The empirical research was collaborative and transdisciplinary. It involved local councils, the state government, the architect’s office, businesses, researchers, developers, infrastructure, and critical service providers, as well as health and community service providers. It was designed for the purpose of having the necessary knowledge for making better decisions. At one level the discussion is highly practical in its intent.The overall intention is to reduce the human impacts on heat in Western Sydney.This declared aim lends itself to the development of urban cooling strategies.The report identified a number of easy to do options: the provision of cooling shelters, the availability of water at transport nodes, the creation of passive water systems (fountains, ponds, and pools), and their active equivalents (water curtains), the use of cool materials in order to increase reflectance from horizontal surface, the retrofitting of existing housing stock, and the protection of urban forest.

Faith in the cities There was not one single reference to religion, spirituality, or theology in any one of the reports on cities and climate change cited in this article. In the case of Western Sydney, the theological voice was uninvited and religious organizations were conspicuously absent among the 55 different organizations working together for the common good. At one level that should come as no surprise.The task of brightening albedo, balancing density, ventilating urban canyons, creating cool micro-climates through the planting of trees—“the great multi-taskers of the urban environment”56—and the judicious use of water—lies with local authorities, urban planners, and architects. Nor is it the work of theology to ensure the stability of public utilities or carry out the responsibilities of health professionals and emergency workers. And, of course, theologians are rarely, if ever, climate scientists.What might then be an appropriate role? The very nature of a public faith/religion is to be collaborative.The basic script of a disciplined kairotic public theology assumes a concern for neighborly love, justice, and a doing good to all (see Galations 6:10 in the Christian scripture). It presumes the call to serve the earthly city in the light of being citizens of the heavenly city.That summons is put into sharp relief by the surprising number of cities that place the beneficial care of God within their mottos. In terms of the climate emergency, this vocation can readily be seen in the provision of disaster relief chaplaincies, which can coincide with congregations seeking to reduce their carbon footprint through solar paneling and the provision of garden spaces with active water features. The latter can be a part of a strategy that seeks to contribute to micro-climate cooling and a commitment to the public rather than the increasing level of privatization of space so often found in cities.The church building—or temple or mosque—can be made into an alternative form of sanctuary for those without air conditioning and in need of company.There is ample scope in times of extreme heat to exercise a pastoral care through being a “heat buddy” and maintaining a watchful eye on those most vulnerable whom the research shows are known to be more isolated in times of “heat events.” In these small but significant ways, religious traditions can play a part in Kelbaugh’s vision of “the sharing cosmopolis.”57 Every report on climate change and cities emphasizes the critical role of voluntary associations and the quality and strength of a civil society. Religious entities already have in place systems of care and relationality. What is perhaps less self-evident is the summons to be prophetic and become a community of meaning-making. This task is not quite so straightforward. In the first instance there is a cognitive deficit to be addressed. The level of awareness of what is to be found in the body of literature—and, in particular, the reports—on climate change and cities in one Christian denomination after another is negligible.The bilingual purpose of a public theology expects this sub-discipline to be able to interpret and mediate matters of public import into the life of the 434

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church and do so in a manner that resonates with the internal discourse of faith communities. Herein lies a potential difficulty due to the contested nature of the Christian reading of the public space.This can take three broad forms. The first is apocalyptic in nature. There is an imperative to take issue with those expressions of religious belief that approach the climate emergency via scriptural texts that promise disaster and the hastening in of the return of Christ. During the course of those fires around Sydney, there was always the risk that undue attention would be given to the cosmic inferno found at 2 Peter 3.The plausibility of a kairotic public theology demands a capacity to counter theological trajectories which see no need to engage with other disciplines (let alone the issue itself), show compassion to the most vulnerable, and provide purpose and support for climate activists.58 The second imagines the Christian faith to be a personal and private matter that should be kept out of politics and the expertise of others.The second is a consequence of that position. It was exemplified during the megafires surrounding Sydney: the Prime Minister, Scott Morrison, a devout Pentecostal Christian, failed to read the links between climate change and the raging inferno being made by climate scientists and did not recognize the need for theological engagement beyond “thoughts and prayers” and “miracles.” For the sake of meeting the emerging climate crisis facing cities—and the transition into a new era in the life of the planet—there is an urgent need to “sift the biblical tradition” in a way that is constructive.What now speaks? What does not? The other side to this bilingual task is for theology (and the traditions it represents) to be public facing. The tenor of much of the literature assembled is empirical, scientific, and organizational. It is absolutely necessary: what a kairotic public theology can offer is complementary. It offers a moral and spiritual vision anchored in the Christian (or any other religious) tradition and the possibility of a worldview that transcends the crisis. There are lessons to be learned from the experience of extreme cities and their regions. The loss of life (human and animal) and property can come with trauma.The loss of language expressed through turns of phrase like “this is beyond normal” is a sign of the need for a worldview that provides layers of meaning that are affective and cognitive.The smoke-filled air lends itself to the due awareness of how the human species and other animal life-forms are atmospheric beings. The spirituality of a city in a time of climate emergency brings close to home questions to do with what does this city feel like, taste like, sound like. The importance of having an integrated comprehension of life cannot be underestimated. The future prospects of the Anthropocene have already been placed on a spectrum of the good, the bad, and the ugly.The future of cities is arguably no longer simply one of a capitalist future of never-ending growth and development. One critique of such is the case made by Susan Roaf et al. with regards the failure and end of “tall buildings.”59 Whether the architecture of cities alters in that particular direction is a moot point: the underlying message that the future of the built environment must adapt to climate change remains, nevertheless. Stefan Skrimshire is a theologian and future ethicist based in Leeds, UK. His field of interest is in eschatology or endings. He pulls no punches. Right from the outset, the Christian faith lived in the expectation of imminent endings. It led to an interim ethic—that is, an ethic which concerns itself with how do you live, what values do you embody and proclaim, how does your community conduct itself—when the future is uncertain or an ending is imminent.60 It is here that the Christian faith and other religious traditions can enhance the quality of a civil society through spiritual and moral values to do with mercy, compassion, and care, and the prophetic profession to speak of justice and truth to positions of power. It can do so because it places all those discourses to do with mitigation, resilience, and biogeotechnological advance within a frame of meaning that does not shy away from endings and extinctions. 435

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It is imperative for a public theology (as religions in general) to respond to the kairos of climate change.The Christian faith has much work to do in order to clarify how it receives the empirical insights of climate scientists, urban planners, and emergency services. It is faced with the task of developing a viable expression of life and belief in overheated cities and those facing the “sea change” and liquid urbanism noted by Dawson.The intention of public theology is to offer insights arising out of its own body of symbols and beliefs. It comes to the deepening climate emergency via a commitment to life in the material and elemental world before us while professing to be citizens of another city. In terms of Skrimshire’s interim ethic it has a particular responsibility to be vigilant and mindful of the rights of those who are most vulnerable in this shift in eras for which there are no precedents.The risk of dystopia is never far away.

Notes 1 “Climate Emergency Declaration,” https://climateemergencydeclaration.org/climate-emergencydeclarations-cover-15-million-citizens/.Accessed 12 December 2019. 2 Douglas Kelbaugh, The Urban Fix: Resilient Cities in the War against Climate Change, Heat Islands and Overpopulation (New York and Abingdon: Routledge, 2019), p. 38. 3 C40 Cities, www.c40.org.Accessed 5 December, 2019. 4 Peter Plastrik, John Cleveland, Life After Carbon:The Next Global Transformation of Cities (Washington, DC: Island Press, 2018). 5 Benjamin R. Barber, Cool Cities: Urban Sovereignty and the Fix for Global Warming (New York and London:Yale University Press, 2017); James S. Russell, The Agile City: Building Well-Being and Wealth in an Era of Climate Change (Washington, DC: Island Press, 2011). 6 Jane Bicknell, David Dodman, and David Satterthwaite, eds, Adapting Cities to Climate Change: Understanding and Addressing the Development Challenges (London and New York: Earthscan, 2009). 7 Clive Pearson, “God’s Continued Providence,” in Ernst M.Conradie and Hilda P. Koster, eds, T & T Clark Handbook of Christian Theology and Climate Change (London and New York:T & T Clark, 2020), pp. 395–405 8 Larry L. Rasmussen, Earth-Honoring Faith: Religious Ethics in a New Age (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015). 9 Niels Gregersen, ed., Incarnation: On the Scope and Depth of Christology (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2015); Dennis Edwards, Deep Incarnation: God’s Redemptive Suffering with Creatures (Maryknoll: Orbis, 2020); Elizabeth Johnson, Creation and the Cross:The Mercy of God for a Planet in Peril (Maryknoll: Orbis, 2018). 10 Kelbaugh, Urban Fix, p. 9. 11 Will Steffen et al., “Trajectories of the Earth System in the Anthropocene,” PNAS August 14, 2018, 115 (33), pp. 8252–9; first published August 6, 2018. doi:10.1073/pnas.1810141115. 12 Michael E. Mann, The Hockey Stick and the Climate Wars: Dispatches from the Front Lines (New York: Columbia University Press, 2014), pp. xviii–xix. 13 J.R. McNeill and Peter Engelke, The Great Acceleration:An Environmental History of the Anthropocene since 1945 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1945), p. 1. 14 Kelbaugh, Urban Fix, p. 11. 15 Ibid., p. 11. 16 Kjetil Fretheim, Interruption and Imagination: Public Theology in Times of Crisis (Eugene: Pickwick Publications, 2016), p. 139. 17 Philip Sheldrake, The Spiritual City: Theology, Spirituality and the Urban (Chichester: Wiley Blackwell, 2014), p. 9. 18 Sheldrake, The Spiritual City, p. 1. 19 Ibid., p. 4. 20 Sheldrake, The Spiritual City, p. 9. 21 Kelbaugh, Urban Fix, p. 1. 22 Earth Institute, Columbia University, “Urban Climate Change Research Network,” www.uccrn.org. Accessed 28 October, 2019.

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Cities and the challenge of climate change 23 Cynthia Rosenzweig, William D. Solecki, et al., Climate Change and Cities: First Assessment Report of the Urban Climate Change Research Network (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011); Cynthia Rosenzweig,William D. Solecki, et al., Climate Change and Cities: Second Assessment Report of the Urban Climate Change Research Network (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018). 24 Daniel Hoornweg, Mila Freire, Marcus J. Lee, Perinaz Bhada-Tata, and Belinda Yuen, Cities and Climate Change: Responding to an Urgent Agenda (Washington, DC:The World Bank 2011). 25 Aromar Revi and David E. Satterthwaite, eds,“Urban Areas,” Climate Change 2014: Impacts,Adaptation, and Vulnerability. Part A: Global and Sectoral Aspects. Contribution of Working Group II to the Fifth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014), pp. 535–612. 26 “Cities IPCC Campaign,” 2018 Conference, https://citiesipcc.org/beyond/campaign/. Accessed 5 October 2019. 27 Ashley Dawson, Extreme Cities:The Peril and Promise of Urban Life in the Age of Climate Change (London and New York:Verso, 2017), p. 5. 28 Ibid., pp. 169–87. 29 Ibid., Extreme Cities, p. 170. 30 Ibid., Extreme Cities, p. 131. 31 Kelbaugh, Urban Fix, pp. 23–27. 32 Dawson, Extreme Cities, pp. 139–40. 33 Ibid., p. 7–8. 34 Brian Stone Jr. The City and the Coming Climate (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012), p. 65. 35 Ibid., pp. 1–2. 36 Ibid., p. 2. 37 Ibid., p. 13. 38 Ibid., p. 13. 39 Ibid., pp. 66–67. 40 Ibid., pp. 55–67. 41 Ibid., pp. 30–35. 42 Ibid., p. 170. 43 “Vienna Remains the World’s Most Liveable City,” www.economist.com/graphic-detail/2019/09/04/ vienna-remains-the-worlds-most-liveable-city.Accessed 6 September, 2019. 44 Bob Carr, “Is it 2050 and I am 102?,” Run for Your Life (Carlton: Melbourne University Press, 2018), pp. 247–53. 45 Greater Sydney Commission, “Three Cities,” www.greater.sydney/three-cities. Accessed 21 October, 2019. 46 Western Sydney Regional Organisation of Councils, Turn Down The Heat: Strategy and Action Plan, 2018, www.wsroc.com.au/media-a-resources/reports/send/3-reports/287-summary-documentwsroc-turn-down-the-heat-strategy-and-action-plan-2018.Accessed 5 June 2019. 47 Kelbaugh, Urban Fix, p. 229. 48 Anthony J. McMichael, with Alistair Woodward, and Cameron Muir, Climate Change and the Health of Nations: Famines, Fevers, and The Fate of Populations (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017), pp. 53–6. 49 WSROC, Turn Down the Heat, p. 24. 50 Ibid., 63. 51 Ibid., p. 25. 52 Ibid., p. 9. 53 Ibid., pp. 3, 8–11. 54 Ibid., p. 3. 55 Ibid., p. 69. 56 Kelbaugh, Urban Fix, p. 151. 57 Ibid., p. 198. 58 Leah D. Schade and Margaret Bullitt-Jonas, eds, Rooted and Rising:Voices of Courage in a Time of Climate Crisis (Lanham and London: Rowman & Littlefield, 2019). 59 Susan Roaf, David Crichton, and Fergus Nichol, Adapting Cities and Buildings for Climate Change:A 21st Century Survival Guide (Abingdon: Routledge, Second Edn, 2009), pp. 205–65. 60 Stefan Skrimshire, “Eschatology,” in Michael S. Northcott, and Peter M. Scott, eds, Systematic Theology and Climate Change: Ecumenical Perspectives (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2014), pp. 157–74.

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Bibliography Carr, Bob. Run for Your Life. Carlton: Melbourne University Press, 2018. Conradie, Ernst M. and Hilda P. Koster, eds, T & T Clark Handbook of Christian Theology and Climate Change. London and New York:T & T Clark, 2020. Dawson, Ashley. Extreme Cities:The Peril and Promise of Urban Life in the Age of Climate Change. London and New York:Verso, 2017. Fretheim, Kjetil. Interruption and Imagination: Public Theology in Times of Crisis. Eugene: Pickwick Publications, 2016. Kelbaugh, Douglas. The Urban Fix: Resilient Cities in the War against Climate Change, Heat Islands and Overpopulation. New York and Abingdon: Routledge, 2019. Revi, Aromar and David E. Satterthwaite, eds,“Urban Areas.” In Climate Change 2014: Impacts, Adaptation, and Vulnerability. Part A: Global and Sectoral Aspects. Contribution of Working Group II to the Fifth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, 535–612. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014. Rosenzweig, Cynthia and William D. Solecki, et al. Climate Change and Cities: Second Assessment Report of the Urban Climate Change Research Network. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018. Sheldrake, Philip. The Spiritual City: Theology, Spirituality and the Urban. Chichester: Wiley Blackwell, 2014. Skrimshire, Stefan. “Eschatology.” In Systematic Theology and Climate Change: Ecumenical Perspectives, edited by Michael S. Northcott and Peter M. Scott, eds, 157–174. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2014. Stone, Brian. The City and the Coming Climate: Climate Change in the Places We Live. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012.

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INDEX

Page numbers in bold denote tables, in italic denote figures Abele, Julian 261 Abrahamson, Mark 390 Addams, Jane 112 Adler, Dankmar 110, 115n24 AIDS/HIV 27, 41 Akinleye, Adesola 226 Ala Uddin, M. 10 Albert, Maura Lee 147 Albright, Madeleine 7 Albuquerque Interfaith (AI) 310–312, 314–315 Ali, Grace Aneiza 85 Allen, Devin 340–341 Alphabet 153, 156 American Academy of Religion (AAR) 24, 69, 79n7 American Dream 121–123, 126–127 Ammerman, Nancy Tatom 21, 25, 27, 354 Andersen, Christian Ulrick 232 Anderson, Elijah 59 Anderson, Marian 261, 276–277; Historical Society & Museum 277 Anderson, Michael Steven 140 Anderson,Vann 352, 354 Anderson,Victor 138, 146 Andersson, Mette 51 Anex,Valérie 170 Annan, Kofi 381, 386n8 Anthropocene 427–428, 430, 435 anthropology 19, 24, 26, 30, 35, 44, 54, 60, 94–95, 161, 373; theological 160–161 Anti-Extradition Bill 238; petitions 237, 239, 241; Protests 236–237 Appadurai, Arjun 40 architectural analysis 7, 67–73, 75–76, 78 Asbury, John 261

Asia 10, 58–59, 77, 92n20, 198, 384, 389, 392, 394–396, 398, 401; -America 148; East 22, 38; South 22, 35, 375, 383, 389, 432; Southeast 375 Asplund, Johan 358, 363 Atlanta 21, 53, 347 Attrition Survey 270–271 Aung San Suu Kyi 381, 386n8 Avinger, Steven 260–263 Babangida, Ibrahim Badamasi 182–183 Back of the Yards Neighborhood Council (BYNC) 303n68, 307 Baker, Christopher 12, 24 Balsillie, Jim 159 Baltimore Afro-American Newspaper, The 337 Baltimoreans United in Leadership Development (BUILD) 309, 319–320, 322–325 Baltimore Brew 336 Baltimore City 319–323, 325, 328, 333, 339 Baltimore City Council 321, 336 Baltimore County 322, 333, 341 Baltimore Neighborhood Indicators Alliance 324 Baltimore Police Department 339Baltimore’s: adults 321; children 320; churches 320, 322; ghosts 3, 11, 336, 338, 342Baltimore Uprising 333, 339–340 Barksdale, David 417 Bastomski, Sara 408 Becker, Ernest 123 Becker, Howard 52 Begin, Menachem 225, 232n14 Bellah, Robert 3, 6, 385 Bello, Ahmadu 185 Bender, Courtney 27 Benjamin,Walter 100n7, 175, 178

439

Index Bergmann, Sigurd 76–77, 81n41 Berry, Wendell 172 Bess, Philip 74–75 Best, Wallace 212 Bisticas-Cocoves, Marcos 3, 11 Black Lives Matter 3, 144, 147; Nashville 140–141 Black Philadelphians 18 Blåder, Niclas 10 Bland, Sandra 143 Blockson, Charles L. 261 Bombay 35–37, 40; see also Mumbai Bonhoeffer, Dietrich 138 Border Guard Bangladesh (BGB) 374, 377 Boston 4, 21, 27, 52, 90, 150n38, 352 Branscomb, Harvie 138 Brinkmann, Tobias 109 Brown, David 280 Brown, Michael 143 Brundage, Fitzhugh 98 Buddhism 3, 22–23, 37, 43, 77, 81n41, 372, 375–378, 385n1, 386n4, 391, 393, 395 Buddhist Donation Day 398 Burgess, Ernest 8, 18, 390 Burnham, Daniel H. 111 Butler, Judith 418 Cadge, Wendy 27 Cady, Linell E. 146 Cahill, Holger 210 Call, Hal 349 Callahan, Leslie 295–296 Calloway, William 412 Calvert, George 332 Calvin, John 3 Caribbean 22, 31, 83–86, 90–91, 92n15, 108, 112, 392–393; Indo- 83–87, 89, 91, 92n15, 92n23 Carr, Bob 432–433 Carvalhaes, Cláudio 299 Castile, Philando 143 Cavanagh, Samantha 12, 80n21 Cavoukian, Ann 158 Cayce Homes 139–140 Cayton, Horace 109 Cellarius, Johann 176 Celtic Tiger 166–168, 170 Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) 410–416, 419 Chafetz, Janet Saltman 23 Chauvin, Derek 144 Chaves, Mark 413 Cheng-Hin Lim,Alvin 334 Chicago School 8–9, 18, 20, 112, 408 Christian Social Concern Fellowship 238, 243–244 Church of Christ in Nations (COCIN) 185, 190 Church of Sweden 358, 362, 365, 367, 370–371 Church of the Crucifixion 269, 282

Cimino, Richard 2, 9, 25 Civil Rights Movement 124, 137, 148, 289, 291; American 418; Southern 287, 296, 298 Civil War (American) 45n6, 97–98, 110–111, 136, 336, 338 Claiborne, Shane 259 Clark,Andrew 54Clemmons, Jocques Scott 139–141, 143 Clemmons Lee, Sheila 140 clergy 5, 18, 71, 138–139, 147, 236, 239–241, 244, 275, 278, 284n10, 287, 291–296, 298, 300n5, 302n52, 311, 315, 317, 317n1, 323, 347–355, 397, 399, 401, 417 Clergy Care Group 236–240, 243–244, 247n10 climate change 11, 13, 78, 291, 295, 298, 386n3, 426–436 Clinton, Bill (President) 7 Cnaan, Ram 29 Collins, Randall 390 Colwell, Clarence 351 Committee of Industrial Organizations (CIO) 307 Community Benefits Agreement (CBA) 146–147 Community Renewal Society (CRS) 415–416 Conboy, Edd 51 Confederate monuments 3, 338 Connor, Philip 29 Corcoran, Aoife 169 coronavirus (COVID-19) 2–3, 11, 72, 153, 157, 324, 401 Cortez, Ernesto 312–313 cosmopolitanism 9–10, 24, 27, 39–44, 46n30, 59, 207, 211, 277; techno- 199, 204 Cossyleon, Jennifer E. 415 Costello, Eric T. 337 Council on Religion and the Homosexual (CRH) 350–352 Cox, Harvey 5–6, 75, 348 Cox’s Bazar 372, 386nn2–3, 386n5 Craig, Locke 98 Cromey, Robert 346–348, 350, 353, 356n18 Cronon,William 113, 116n43 Crouch, Andy 125 Crow, Jim 212, 217n7, 338–339; laws 137, 336 Crowe, Philip 169 Crutcher, Terrence 143 Cullen, Frances 408 Dabney, Elizabeth J. 273 dan Yakubu, Ibrahim 183 Davin Sound 200, 203 Davis, Colin 334 Dawson,Ashley 430, 432, 436 Day, Katie 12, 13n1, 51, 73, 79n7, 283n6, 309, 342n2 de Certeau, Michel 209 Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) 316

440

Index Degai, Minalu 222 de Gruchy, John 76 Delhi 38, 40, 432 Delke,Andrew 140, 143 D’Emilio, John 346 Democracy Nashville-Democratic Communities 141 Derrida, Jacques 11, 332–336, 338–339, 342, 343n6, 343n9 Direct Action Research and Training (DART) 309–310 Dobson,Vernon 323 Douglas,Aaron 209–214, 216 Douglas, Stephen 109 Douglass, Frederick 337 Douglass, H. Paul 18–19, 21, 25, 337 Dowdall, Emily 256–257, 264 Drake, St. Clair 19, 21, 25, 109 Driving While Black Report 139 Drummond, Henry 171 DuBose, Samuel 143 DuBois,W. E. B. 18–19, 25 Durkheim, Emile 50, 297–298, 302n61, 302n65 Dwyer, Claire 97

evangelicals:American 120, 125–126, 414; black 124; Christian 120–121, 124, 126, 394, 398; suburban 122–127; urban 413–414; white 5, 119–120, 124, 126 expulsion 11–12, 138, 376, 384

Earth Quaker Action Team (EQAT) 287–289, 291–292, 294–295, 297, 299, 300n4, 301n40, 302n52 East Coast Homophile Organizations (ECHO) 351 Ebaugh, Helen Rose 22–23, 25, 27 Ebenezer Baptist Church 278–279 ecological model 8–9, 17, 19–21, 24, 68, 77, 390 Edelman, Marian Wright 145 Edmonds, James 7 Edwards, Elise M. 7 Edwards, Paul N. 95 Eiesland, Nancy L. 21, 25 Elabo,Amidu 10, 73 Ellis, Isaiah 5, 7 Ellison, Ralph 216, 219n31 Ellul, Jacques 172–174, 177 Elmhurst 388–402, 403n35 Emotional Entrainment (EE) 390–391, 395, 399–400 employment 43, 89, 158, 167, 319–324, 328, 359, 381, 408; see also underemployment, unemployment Engelke, Peter 428 Erre, Mike 121 Eshel, Ruth 222, 226 eskesta 223, 229–231 Ethiopian–Israeli Beta Dance Troupe 221–224, 226–228, 231 European Central Bank 166 European Free Trade Association (EFTA) 359 European Union (EU) 166, 359, 364 Evangelical Church Winning All (ECWA) 185

Facebook 235–236, 262 Faith in Action 290, 309, 316, 415 Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnership Office 315–16, 317n1 Faith-Based Community Organizations (FBCOs) 287–288, 290, 294, 300n3, 302n42, 306, 328, 415, 417 Father Paul 392–393 Faulk, J. C. 341 Favazza, Isabella Cronin 7 Feder, Dege 222 Federal Art Project (FAP) 210–211, 213, 215, 218n17 Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) 143, 420n20 Federal Housing Administration (FHA) 406–407, 410 Felsenthal, Bernard 109 feminist: social ethics 154, 160–161; theological ethics 154–155, 157, 161–162 Fernandes, Naresh 40 Fetuga, Rasheedat 139 Fighting to Overcome Records and Create Equality (FORCE) 415–416 Finke, Roger 51 Finney, Cheryl 323, 327 Fisher, Mark 334 Fishman, Robert 124–125 Flanagan, Eileen 289, 295, 299 Flores, Edward 415 Florida, Richard 158, 255–256 Floyd, George 144, 339–340 Focus Group Discussions (FGDs) 374 Forbes, Roland 279 Forcibly Displaced Myanmar Nationals (FDMNs) 381 Fort, Jeff 416–417 Fortun, Kim 96 Fortun, Mike 96 Foucault, Michael 159, 199, 333 Four Corners 21 Franklin, Sekou 140–141 Fretheim, Kjetil 428 Frieden, Betty 125 Frison, Gegory 273–274 Fromhold-Eisbith, Martina 153 Fulton, Brad 308 Furiasse, Amanda 10 Furjanic, Joey 258–260 Gabriel, Paul 350 Gaines, Korryn 334, 341

441

Index Galtung, Johan 405 Galvez,Alyshia 23, 28 Gamaliel Foundation 310, 316, 417 Gandhi,Ajay 35, 111–112 Gandhi, Mohandas 418 Gans, Herbert 390 Garland, Robert 215 Garner, Eric 143 Gates, Henry Louis 144, 150n38 gay caucuses 354, 357n49 Gearhart, Sally Miller 357n49 Gebara, Ivone 157 Geertz, Clifford 6, 29, 95 Genovese, Kitty 86, 92n18 gentrification 11, 13, 72, 75, 142, 148, 216, 254–260, 263, 277, 395 Geographic Information System (GIS) 6, 31, 84, 86–87, 89–91, 183, 189 geography 7, 24, 40, 68, 73, 89, 94, 225, 391 Gideon’s Army 139, 141 Glass, Ruth 254 Glide Urban Center 348–352, 356n18 globalization 11, 22–27, 31, 40, 51, 157, 172, 199, 405 Goda grannar 362–363, 365–367, 371 Goetz, David L. 121, 123 Goffman, Erving 55 Goldner, Jonathan 414 Good Friday 287, 289, 292, 295, 297–299, 301n37 Google 54, 87–91, 153, 155–157, 162n14, 183, 221–222, 224–225, 229, 237 Gornick, Mark 23 Gorringe, Timothy 76 Graduate Hospital 253–263 Graham, Billy 125 Gray, Freddie 3, 143, 334, 339–341 Great Depression 51, 209–210, 321, 406 Great Famine 166 Great Migration 10, 211–212, 214, 216, 277 Greeley,Andrew M. 119 Griffith, Terrence 261–262 Guadalupe 23, 28; Our Lady 23 Guatemala 22, 53 Günel, Gökçe 96 Gurley, Akai 143 Guterres, Antonio 379 Guyana 83, 85–86, 91, 92n15, 92nn20–21, 92n23; Little 84–87, 84, 90–91 Ha, Joseph Chi-Sing 240 Hagedorn, John 417 Haifa 221–223, 225, 227–228, 230–231; East 221, 225 Hales,Ashley 121–122, 125 Hall, Stuart 146 Hambrick, Daniel 140–141, 143 Hamlin, Caroline 109

Hammond,Trey 7, 310, 317n1 Hanson, R. Scott 9, 26, 28, 30 Harding,Vincent 145 Hargaden, Kevin 12 Harlem Hospital 210, 213–216, 218n18 Harlem Renaissance 210, 217n3; see also New Negro Movement Harrison, Beverly 160 Hart, Harry 110 Hart, Sarah L. 110, 115n21, 115n30 Harvey, David 159 Harvey, Penelope 94, 97 haunting 332–338, 341–342, 346 hauntology 333–336, 339, 341–342 Haycock, Mary 99 Hayes,Vertis 209–215, 218n17, 218n21 Hebrew 227; chants 225–226; scriptures 3, 177 Hebrew Benevolent Society 109–110 Heeding God’s Call to End Gun Violence 287–290, 292–294, 296–297, 299, 300n4, 301n40, 303n67 Herskovits, Melville 211, 217n8 Heschel,Abraham Joshua 289 Hildebrandt, Patrick 273 Hildebrandt, Rachel 7, 67, 260–261, 269, 283n2 Hill, Joe 342 Hinduism 3, 13, 19, 22–23, 31, 36–39, 41–43, 45nn7–8, 80n41, 83–87, 89–92n15, 92n20, 92n23, 111–112, 375, 377–378, 386n6, 391, 396, 400 Hingley, Liz 51 Hoek, Lotte 35 Holmes, Brian 224 Holmes, H. H. 107 Holmes, Kristin E. 7, 11, 73 Holocaust 226, 336–338 Holocene 427–428, 430 Holtzman, Linda 289, 295, 297 Holy Week 287, 289–291, 298–299 homelessness 12, 28, 166–170, 170, 173–177, 216, 259, 392, 401 homophile 5, 347–354 homosexual 346–353; ghetto 5, 346–347, 349, 352–353 homosexuality 346, 349–350, 352–354 Hong Kong Protestant Clergy Co-Signing Committee 238, 243–244 Hoover, Larry 417 hospitality 121, 124–125, 127, 147, 236, 359, 427 house of worship 6, 49, 55, 276, 278 Housing and Urban Development Office (HUD) 316 Hoyt, Homer 321 Hsu,Albert Y. 121, 123–125 Huang, Weishan 25 Hubbard, Phil 52 Hudson, D. J. 140 Hughey, Joseph 313

442

Index idolatry 4, 174, 176–178, 401 immigration 2, 9–10, 13, 22, 36, 72, 112, 126, 147, 183, 232n17, 316, 358–361, 363–367, 389, 393 In-Depth Interviews (IDIs) 374 Indianapolis 21, 90, 120 Industrial Areas Foundation (IAF) 294, 303n68, 307–310, 312–313, 316, 322–323, 417 information and communication technologies (ICT) 153, 159 Interaction Rituals (IR) 390–391, 395, 398–400 Interfaith Valley Project (IVP) 310 International Monetary Fund 166 Isichei, Elizabeth 184 Islam 3, 7, 13, 79n15, 147, 183, 188, 195, 198–199, 201–207, 373, 375, 377–378, 382–383, 385n1, 397, 416–417; see also Muslim Islamic Center of Elmhurst 391, 398 Islamic Declaration on Climate Change 427 Islamic Relief 362–363 Jackson, Stonewall 337 Jacobs, Jane 48, 390 Jacobs, Kent 259, 264 Jacobsen, Eric O. 75–76, 80n26, 121, 123–125 Jain 36, 40–41, 45n8, 391, 395, 398, 401 Jain Center of New York 391, 394–395, 397–398, 400–401 Jakobson, Roman 55–56 Jang, Jonah 186 Jerusalem 3; New 4 Jesus Christ 121–122, 154, 160, 171, 175–176, 213, 238, 292–295, 298, 346, 367, 413, 415Jewish: communities 58, 221–222, 225–227, 231, 232n17; feminism 287, 298; history 229; identity 221, 227; memory 226–227; ritual 221–224, 226–227, 230; youth 222–223, 230 Jewish Law: Oral 224–227, 232n17;Written 225; see also Talmud Jewitt, Cary 53 Jews:Ashkenazi 225–226, 229, 231, 232n17; Ethiopian 221–227, 229–231, 232n14, 232n17; Mizrahi 225, 228, 230–231 jhandis 31, 73, 83–91, 84, 88 Johnson, James Weldon 216 Johnson, Phil 352 Johnson, Robert L. 259, 263–264 Johnson,William Reagan 357n49 Jones, Clinton 352 Jones, Mother 342 Jones, Paul 352–354 Jos East 182 Jos Metropolitan Development Board (JMDB) 185 Jos North 10, 73, 182–184, 189, 191, 194–195 Jos South 182–183 Judaism 8, 13, 109, 288, 298

Kaell, Hillary 99 Kahn, Matthew 430 Kaphar, Titus 338 Katagiri, Mineo 352 Keesmaat, Jennifer 158 Kehilath Anshe Ma’ariv (KAM) 110, 115n22 Kelbaugh, Douglas 426–428, 430, 434 Kepner, Jim 351 Kerbel, Jarrett 289–290, 293, 296 Keul, István 9, 27 Key-Informant Interviews (KIIs) 374 Kim, Jim Yong 379 Kincheloe, Samuel C. 18–19, 25King, Julia 332 King Jr., Martin Luther 138, 141, 143–145, 147, 289, 291, 340, 418 Kinzie, John 108–109, 113nn7–8 Kitchin, Rob 161–162 Knox, Hannah 97 Konings, Martijn 177 Krase, Jerome 51, 55 Kresta, David E. 257–259, 265 Krieger, Martin H. 51 Krier, Léon 74 Krispin,William 254, 258, 262, 264 Lacks, Henrietta 342 Lai,Tsz Him 7 Larson, Erik 107 Latin America 22, 393 Laws, H.W. 183 Lawson, James Morris 138, 418 Lee, Robert E. 98, 337–338, 341 Lefebvre, Henri 9, 73, 114n10 Leung, Brian Kai-ping 242 Leutze, Emanuel Gottlieb 332–333 Levitt, Peggy 27 Lewis, John L. 307 Lewis, Lloyd 109, 114n13 Ley, David 97 LGBT/LGBT+/LGBTQ 5, 13, 241, 347–348, 353–355 Libeskind, Daniel 70 Lichterman, Paul 415 Lilly Endowment 20–22, 269 Lippert, Joshua 139, 143 Livezey, Lowell W. 9, 20–21, 24–25, 32n35 Local Government Area (LGA) 182–183, 194 Locke, Alain 211–212 Lofton, Kathryn 111 Long, Charles H. 138 Looby, Z.Alexander 138 Lorde, Audre 144 Lorentzen, Lois Ann 25 Los Angeles 9, 21, 255, 347, 351, 353, 411, 432 Los Angeles School of Urbanism 9, 26 Luther, Martin 176–177 Lutheran Church 276, 308, 362, 391, 399

443

Index Lutheran Concerned for Gay People 354 Lutheran Social Services 413 Lykes, Brinton M. 53

375–379, 381–382, 384–385, 386n6, 389, 391, 397–399; see also neighborhoods

Machioli, Pablo 338 Man,Albon Platt 86 Mann, Michael 428 Marquette, Jacques 107–108 Martin, Chad 7, 67, 278 Martin, Del 350 Martin, Trayvon 143 Master Innovation and Development Plan (MIDP) 157–158 Mayfield, D. L. 259 Mazumdar, Sanjoy 67, 71, 77, 79n15, 80n41 Mazumdar, Shampa 67, 71, 77, 79n15, 80n41 McCrea, Katherine Tyson 409–410 McDonald, LaQuan 143, 412 McFague, Sallie 160 McGreevy, John T. 19, 21–22 McIlvenna, Ted 348–350 McIninan, James 400 McKinley, William 111 McLaughlin, Michael 10, 73 McLean, Doug 352 McNabb, Kalen 269 McNeill, J. R. 428 McRoberts, Omar 4–5, 9, 21–22, 25, 27 Mead, George Herbert 418 Mecca 3, 199, 203 Metro Nashville City Council 140–141 Metro Nashville Police Department (MNPD) 139, 141, 144 Mian, Nadia A. 25 Middle East 11, 22, 198, 225 Miles, Douglas 323 Miller, Brian J. 5 Miller, Bryan 289, 294 Miller, Donald L. 107 Miller, Jon 51 Miss Nashville 136, 137 Mitchell, Bruce 254–257 Mode, Peter G. 112 Moe-Lobeda, Cynthia 154, 156 Morales, Harold 3, 11 Morgan, Rhetta 295 Morrison, Scott 435 Mothershead, Kyle 141 Mount Carmel 221–225, 227, 229–231; Our Lady of 79n12 Mumbai 2, 9, 27, 35–42, 44, 44n4, 45n7, 432; Central 40; South 40–41, 43–44; see also Bombay Muslim 3, 20, 22–23, 26, 36–37, 39–41, 43, 45n6, 45n8, 55, 58, 71, 93n15, 92n20, 182–183, 185–191, 193, 198–199, 203, 205, 207, 287–288, 290, 293, 295, 301n23, 308, 365–366, 372–373,

Nash, Diane 138–139 Nashville Banner, The 136–138 Nashville Christian Leadership Council 137–138 Nashville Organized for Action and Hope (NOAH) 141 Nashville Peacemakers 141 Nashville’s Community Benefits Agreement 146 Nashville sit-ins 137–138 Nashville Soccer Holdings 147 Nashville Student Movement 138National Assets Management Agency (NAMA) 167–168 National Community Reinvestment Coalition (NCRC) 254–257 National Housing Association of Real Estate Brokers (NAREB) 321–322 National Rifle Association (NRA) 293neighborhoods: black 10, 277; Chinese 59; gentrified 73, 253, 255–256, 264–265, 277; Hindu 90; Mumbai 35, 38, 41, 43–44; Muslim 41; non-white 259; poor 21, 27; religious 37; smart 153, 155; suburban 124; traditional 74–75; urban 9–10, 19, 51, 306, 390; white 321 Nethercut, Justin 340 Netsch, Dawn Clark 407 Neusner, Jacob 226 Neve Yosef Community Center (NYCC) 228 New Deal 210–211, 216–217 New Ethnic and Immigration Project 22 Ne Win 375 New Negro Movement 10, 211; see also Harlem Renaissance New Orleans 10, 431–432 New Urbanism 74–75, 80n21, 80n26, 124 Noonan, Linda 7, 329n25 North Nashville 137–138 Numrich, Paul D. 25, 27 Obama, Barack 316 O’Callaghan, Cian 168 Odendall, Nancy 161 O’Neal, Paul 143 O’Neill, Maggie 52 Orsi, Robert A. 4, 9, 19–20, 22, 26, 28, 79n12 Ozone Park 85–86, 92n21; South 85, 92n18, 92nn20–21 Pacific Institute for Community Organizing (PICO) see Faith in Action Packinghouse Workers of Chicago (PWOC) 307 Papachristos,Andrew V. 408 Park, Robert E. 390 Park, Robert Ezra 8, 18, 112, 159, 390 Parsi 36–37, 40, 42–43, 45nn6–7

444

Index Partners for Sacred Places 29, 72, 260, 264, 269, 280, 283n2, 284n24 Passover 289–290 Patterson, Orlando 141, 145 Pauwels, Luc 50, 53 Pearson, Clive 12 Pentecost, George F. 111 Pentecostal 23, 37, 92n20, 185, 195, 238, 273–274, 308, 393, 435 Perkins, John M. 173–174, 177 Personal Rights in Defense and Education (PRIDE) 351–352 Pew Charitable Trusts 253, 256, 283n2 Pezzoli-Olgiati, Daria 69–70 Philadelphia’s Historic Sacred Places 269, 272, 274, 279 Philadelphians Organized to Witness, Empower, and Rebuild (POWER) 287–291, 294–297, 299, 300n4, 301n23, 301n26, 301n40 Pietila, Antero 342 Pillai, Rupa 6, 31, 73 Pink, Sarah 53 Plateau Indigenous Development Association Network (PIDAN) 186 Point Breeze 260–262 Point du Sable, Jean-Baptiste 108–109, 113n7 Pope Francis 379, 427 poverty 9, 21, 28, 141, 146, 158, 174, 290–291, 297–298, 309, 320–321, 324–325, 339, 406–408, 410, 412, 419; high- 409; rate 278, 320–321, 325; urban 173 Powell, Noble C. 337 Power, Garrett 321 Prakash, Gyan 40, 45n8 Pratt, Travis 408 Prentice, Marshall 324 Presbyterian Church 98, 270–271, 274, 283, 307–308, 310, 315, 317n1, 337, 354, 391–392, 398–399, 401 Price, Jay M. 69 Protestant: churches 308, 347, 354–355, 391; evangelical 79n8, 127, 308; liberal 5, 71, 347, 353; mainline 96, 119, 269, 271, 273, 354, 391 public–private partnerships (P3s) 155, 157, 159–161 Puritans 4 Quakers 109, 288, 291–292, 301n40, 302n52

Real Estate of Baltimore 321 Reddick, Doris 255, 263refugee: camps 225, 373–374, 377–379, 383; crisis 13, 373–374, 377, 385; guilt 384; issue 385; see also Rohingya Refugee Relief and Repatriation Commissioner (RRRC) 374 Refugees Stockholm 363 Regional Council of Neighborhood Organization (RCNO) 310 Reich, Steve 228–229 Reinfeldt, Fredrick 361Religion, Ethnicity and New Immigrant Research (RENIR) 22 Religion in Urban America Program (RUAP) 20, 25 religious studies 26, 70, 78, 79n12, 94–95, 97, 99, 113, 343n6 Rentschler, Carrie A. 86 Request for Proposals (RFP) 153, 157, 163n23, 338 Reynolds, Katherine 261–262 Rhodes-Pitts, Sharifa 216–217 Rice, Tamar 143 Richardson, Harper 352 Richmond, Edward 86 Richter, Philip 51 Rineer,A. Hunter 278–279 Ritchey, Mary Beth 257 Rival, Laura 95 Roaf, Susan 435 Rohingya 10, 372–385, 385n1, 386nn3–8; refugee 372–374, 377, 379–380, 382, 384–385 Rojas, Mauricio 360 Roman Catholicism 3, 10, 19–20, 22–23, 26, 36–37, 42, 53, 92n20, 119, 186, 188, 235–241, 243–245, 246n5, 261–262, 273–275, 277, 284n11, 288, 290, 307–308, 311, 332, 357n49, 379, 391, 394, 396, 398, 400, 413 Rome 3, 71 Roof, Dylann Storm 142 Roosevelt, Franklin D. 210, 217n7;Avenue 389 Rose, Gillian 53 Rosenwald, Julius 110 Ross, Brandon 340–341 Rouse, James 75, 80n24 Rousseau, Jean Jacques 145 Royster, Dwayne 289, 291 Rubinstein, David 408–409 Ryan, Donal 169

Rabbinate 225, 227, 231; Chief 225 Rabinow, Paul 199, 204 racism 13, 109, 144, 214–215, 230–231, 280, 298, 321; systemic 3, 143, 156, 225 Rae, Murray 70, 76 Raelin, Joe 241–242 Ray, James Earl 142 Reagan, Ronald 4

Sack, Warren 230 Sacred Places at Risk 270–271, 283n4 sacred space 2, 5, 9, 26, 68–69, 72, 96, 297, 428 Saint Martin’s Island 380, 386n2 Sampson, Robert J. 8–9, 408 Samson, Lisa 121–123, 125 Samson,Will 121–123, 125 San Francisco 5, 23, 346–347, 349–352, 354

445

Index San Francisco Police Department 350 Sanjek, Roger 399 Sarria, José 349 Sassan, Saskia 11–12, 23–24 Schietle, Christopher 51 Schleifer, Isaac 337 Scott, Brandon M. 337 Scott, James C. 97 Scott, Keith Lamont 143 Scott,Walter L. 143 Sears, James 347 Shannahan, Chris 12 Sheldrake, Philip 76, 81n44, 428 Shippey, Frederick 119, 126 Shiv Sena 37, 40, 43 Shortell,Timothy 6, 31, 50–51, 53–55, 57, 63n56 Sidewalk Labs 153–159; Quayside 155, 157–159 Simmel, Georg 54, 63n59, 403n35, 418 Simone, AbdouMaliq 96 Skrimshire, Stefan 435–436 slavery 18, 85, 145, 261, 288, 336–337, 339, 341, 347 Small,Albion W. 112 Smallwood, Teresa 3 smart urbanization (SU) 80n21, 153–155, 157–161 Smilde, David 27 Smith, Alex 351 Smith, Henry Justin 109, 112, 114n13 Smith, Jonathan Z. 297 Smith, Neil 255 Snarr, Melissa 294 Soja, Edward W. 9, 11–12, 26, 73, 198 solidarity 19, 60, 140, 160, 238, 241, 289, 302n65, 307, 373, 377, 380, 382, 384, 428; social 78, 177, 364 Sontag, Susan 242 Sorett, Josef 212 Southern California Council on Religion and the Homophile (SCCRH) 351–352 Space Engagers 169, 171, 175 Sparkman, Edward 263–265 Specters of Marx 332–334 Speer, Paul W. 313 Spencer, Murray 261 Spiegel, Marcus 109 Spivak, Gayatri 334 Sprinker, Michael 334 Srinivas, Smriti 99 Stahlman, James 138 Stand Up Nashville 147 Starr, Ellen Gates 112 Statue of Liberty 209, 212–213 Steffen, Will 427–428 Stendahl, Krister 294, 302n44 Sterling,Alton B. 143 Stets, Jan E. 400 Stirrett,Andrew Park 185

Stockholm 2, 10, 302n44, 358–360, 362, 364, 366, 368, 369n34 Stone, Brian 431 Stryker, Susan 351 suburban churches 119, 127, 348 Sullivan, Louis Henri 110–113, 115n23 Sullivan, Walter 292 Sunday, Billy 4–5 Sutton, Eugene Taylor 337 Syech, Habib 198–206 Syekhermania 198, 201–207 Syria 10–11, 358, 361, 363 Talmud 225–227, 229 Tamar Park 238, 243–244 Tarrow, Charles 240 Taylor, Christian 143 Thai Buddhist Temple 391, 399 theology: Christian 77, 176, 295, 394, 418, 426; Hong Kong 241–242; public 11–12, 138, 148, 426, 428, 430, 434–436; see also anthropology Thrift, Nigel 185 Tillich, Paul 138 Tilly, Sidney 240Tindley,Albert 263 Tindley Temple United Methodist Church 259, 263–264, 277 Todd, George 307–308 Tokke, Hans 2, 9 Toly, Noah 173–174, 177 Tom, Phil 7, 315–16, 317n1 Tonnies, Ferdinand 390 Toronto 12, 153–155, 158, 162n1;Tomorrow 157; Waterfront 153, 157, 162n1, 163n23; see also Sidewalk Labs traditional neighborhood design (TND) 74 Trump, Donald 341, 368n4 Tse, Justin 97–98 Tuan,Yi-Fu 99 Tufts, James Walker 98 Tufts, Leonard 98 Turnaround Tuesday (TAT) 319–328 Turner, Frederick Jackson 112 Turner, Johnathan H. 400 Turner,Victor 298, 302n65 Twain, Mark 28 Umbrella Movement 236–241 underemployment 13, 127 unemployment 28, 139, 290–291, 320–321, 324, 328 United Church of Christ (UCC) 274, 276, 278, 308, 351–352, 354, 356n18 United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) 377, 381 Upazila Nirbahi Officer (UNO) 374 urban: centers 4, 10, 75, 155, 174, 182–185, 193–194, 214, 347, 352; churches 4, 306,

446

Index 347–348; dwellers 17, 54–56, 58–60, 63n59, 70, 216; gentry 254; place 5, 54, 57, 63n59, 297; space 1, 3, 5–9, 11, 25–26, 28, 31, 55–56, 97, 99, 161, 169, 173, 194, 198–199, 207, 209, 287–288, 298–299, 347, 390, 427; theory 11, 17–19, 24, 48, 154, 158, 426; see also violence US Immigration Act (1965) 22 vacant buildings 175, 177–178 Van Dyke, Jason 412 Van Gennep,Arnold 298, 302n65 van Leeuwen,Theo 53 Varanasi 3, 38 Västerled 362–363, 365–367 Vergara, José 51 Vermander, Benoît 51 violence: anti-Muslim 37, 40, 205; cultural 405–406; direct 240, 405–406; gang 416; gun 289, 293– 295, 297–299, 301n34, 323; interpersonal 409, 409; personal 405–406, 412; police 3, 235, 246n2; structural 320, 323, 405–407, 409, 410; urban 7 visibility conflicts 56–57, 59 visual: data 51–53, 60; research 48–41, 53–54; social science 48–50; sociology 49–51, 60 Wahrenbrock, Ken 351 Wake, Lloyd 354, 357n48 Walker, David 95–96 Warner, R. Stephen 20, 22, 25, 27, 413–415 Washington, Booker T. 111, 260 Washington DC 19, 75, 111, 120, 145, 253–255, 316 Washington, Harold 407 Washington Interfaith Network (WIN) 316 Wedam, Elfriede 7, 25, 27, 407, 415 Weisenfeld, Judith 212

Wells, Ida B. 111 Werbner, Pnina 41 West, Ben 138 Wharton Wesley United Methodist Church 280 White, Andre 332 White, Heather 5, 71 Whitman, Walt 110 Wilberforce, William 120 Wild, Mark 347 Williams, Cecil 350, 353 Williams, Fannie Barrier 111, 115n28, 115n30 Williams, Rhys H. 413–415 Williams, Roman R. 6, 31, 51 Williams, S. Laing 111 Williams,Terrell 324, 327 Wilson, Charles Reagan 98, 101n32 Wilson, Melvin 327 Winter, Gibson 119, 124 Winthrop, John 4 Wirth, Louis 8, 18 Wittner, Judith G. 22, 27 Wong, Ryan S. C. 7, 407 Wood, Richard 302n42, 308 Works Progress Administration (WPA) 210–211, 213, 215, 218n17 World Columbian Exposition (1893) 107, 111 World War II, after 86, 120, 338, 348, 407, 411 Wylie, Bianca 156 Yawn, Byron Forrest 121–122, 131n97 Yeats,W. B. 170 Ying, Fuk-Tsang 237 Zhang, Liang 51 Zoroastrian 23, 36–37, 42, 45n8, 71, 79n15 Zuboff, Shoshana 159

447