This article traces the significant yet largely unexplored experience of transnationalism in the lived religious experiences of Mexican and Mexican American Catholics by focusing on the parish as a central unit of analysis. Within this analysis, the parish unit is rethought as an analytical unit in two important regards. First, the way in which parish life in rural Mexico has been predominately conceptualized as one whose rhythm revolves around a traditional ritual calendar centered on community celebrations of particular religious holidays and localized votive devotions needs to be replaced. Based on research from an ongoing historical case study (1890-present) of a central Mexican parish, Nuestra Señora del Rosario in Coeneo, Michoacán, and on other parishes, the rhythm of parish life has clearly shifted to celebrations of marriages and baptisms. These religious celebrations of marriages and baptisms in Mexico have become the focal point of identity and community in this transnational Mexican and Mexican American experience. These sacraments of baptism and marriage have multiple meanings that not only include universal Catholic doctrines but also notions of family, community, and a particular appreciation for the sacralized landscape of their Mexican parish. Second, notions of parish boundaries as fixed and parish affiliation as singular must be reconsidered because many Mexicans and Mexican Americans living in the United States consider themselves to be active members in at least two parishes: one in Mexico and one or more in the United States.

This essay examines the response of Catholics—both the institutional church and blue-collar laity—to the turmoil of the late 1930s and the rise of the United Automobile Workers in Detroit. It critiques an influential line of scholarship that holds that the ethnic working class was effectively secularized by the rise of mass culture, the welfare state, and industrial unions. Instead, the essay argues that religion—like class, gender, or race/ethnicity—might fruitfully be analyzed as a “consciousness” and, as such, remains fluid, malleable, and protean in the face of historical change. During the Depression years, blue-collar Catholics (especially Catholic men) experienced a re-creation of their religious consciousness to conform to the new world of industrial unionism. While Detroit’s “labor priests” established the Archdiocesan Labor Institute (ALI) and hosted labor schools in parishes across the city, lay people, spurred by the movement for “Catholic Action,” founded the Association of Catholic Trade Unionists (ACTU) to strengthen working-class faith and “Christianize the UAW.” More important, the ALI and ACTU collectively provided a new religious template within which working-class Catholics might reconcile—even intertwine—their class, gender, and religious identities. While the changes of the 1930s did assimilate ethnic Catholics more fully into the secular sphere, this essay demonstrates that such a process did not result in a “decline” in religious significance for many Catholic workers; more precisely, it meant a “re-making” of religious consciousness.

Bible courses in public schools are receiving a level of attention not witnessed in decades, and their increased numbers create greater potential for local conflicts and lawsuits over whether they promote religion and violate the First Amendment. Such courses are relatively understudied, and their contents and the paths by which schools decide to offer them are largely unknown. One district that has experienced both conflict and lawsuit over its Bible course is Ector County Independent School District in Odessa, Texas, where a 2005–2008 dispute pitted townspeople and national organizations against each other. This article uses the Odessa controversy as a case study to demonstrate how Bible courses provide a unique window into the confusion found at the intersection of American public education, the study of religion, and church-state relations. Drawing upon school district documents, recordings of school board meetings, journalistic accounts, legal documents, press releases, Bible curricula produced by the National Council on Bible Curriculum in Public Schools and the Bible Literacy Project, and course materials from district high schools, it traces the development of the conflict. It examines the role that appeals to the Establishment Clause and Free Exercise Clause played in the controversy, confusion over what is legally acceptable in public schools, particularly in regard to historicity issues, and the difficulty in developing a genuinely nonsectarian course. It contextualizes the Odessa debate within Christian Right efforts to influence public schools and larger American society, efforts often grounded in the claim that America is a Christian nation. Controversies such as Odessa's illustrate the tensions produced in American society by competing notions of religious freedom and American identity.

This essay explores the political origins and implications of Beat Zen anarchism, a cultural phenomenon located in the intersection between American anarchist traditions and Zen Buddhism in the San Francisco Poetry Renaissance. Focusing on the writings of D. T. Suzuki, Alan Watts, Gary Snyder, and Philip Whalen, it shows how Beat Zen emerged not primarily from an Orientalist appropriation of “the East” but rather from an Occidentalist, Japanese-centered criticism of American materialism that followed from the complex legacy of the World’s Parliament of Religions at the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition. In staking their claims to Zen, in other words, Philip Whalen and Gary Snyder—the Beat poets on whom this essay focuses—along with Alan Watts expressed the views not of cultural imperialists, as one might suppose, but of converts to what they regarded as a superior way of life.

The Beat adoption of Zen intersected with a broadly libertarian and specifically anarchist social milieu in San Francisco that congregated around Kenneth Roxroth's Libertarian Club and Anarchist Circle. The individualist, anti-statist, and anarchist political outlooks of Beat Zen anarchists were directly confirmed by the writings of D. T. Suzuki, who presented Zen as a practice of personal liberation from cultural conditioning. Suzuki's rhetorical approach—which treated Japanese Zen as both a pinnacle of Asian civilization and a key to the liberation of Western humanity from its stifling and destructive rationalism—was informed by Meiji-era Japanese nationalism and exceptionalism and by the universalism that Buddhist missionaries brought to their explanations of Zen to Westerners. Arguing that Beat Zen poets, in adopting Buddhism as it was presented to them, were foremost Occidentalist rather than Orientalist in outlook, this essay concludes that the Beat Zen anarchist cultural formation suggests a libertarian alternative to Orientalism and also reconfigures common conceptions of American radical literary history as primarily Marxistinflected.

The United States has never had an established religion, but, by the early twentieth century, many Episcopalians had come to think of themselves as the nation's religious establishment. No other denomination, they believed, was as well-suited to provide moral leadership for the nation and unite its people in faith. This article argues that their commitment to a national civic mission provided Episcopalians with a sense of collective purpose that diverted attention from internal divisions and helped propel the church to a position of prominence within American religious life. It also reveals how many of the prime proponents and beneficiaries of the church's ascendancy were members of the social and financial elite. Committed to a patrician creed of social responsibility, these “representatives of all that is noble” gained status and moral authority through their public support of the church and its mission. To trace the contours of the Episcopal ascendancy, this article focuses on developments within the Diocese of Pennsylvania, one of the largest, wealthiest, and most influential within the church. Over the course of the early twentieth century, its members overcame their prevailing parochialism, strengthened their denominational identity, and brought their influence to bear on the nation's religious life. Their exercise of religious and cultural authority can be seen in their support of three ecclesiastical projects—the proposed diocesan cathedral, historic Christ Church, and the Washington Memorial Chapel at Valley Forge— that helped fashion the public image of the Episcopal Church as the nation's religious establishment.

This paper examines a recent arrival on the American pop cultural scene, a type of ghost encounter called After-Death Communications (ADCs). Delivered in dreams, visions, voices, odors, coincidences, etc., these cheerful greetings from deceased loved ones help bereaved survivors cope with their loss. Since the Enlightenment, spirits of the dead have become increasingly irrelevant to collective life. The new phantoms, however, are assigned roles in the family, health, and faith. How has this occurred? Strands of a complicated process are delineated, including medical origins in the bereavement hallucination, a designated symptom of grief. Cultural dynamics behind the current ADC phenomenon are contrasted with national trends that shaped the nineteenth-century spiritualist enthusiasm for ghosts. The literature, published since the 1990s, is reviewed in which the ADC has been formalized as a source of bereavement therapy and revelation. A tally of the peculiar features and functions of this twenty-first-century ghost experience links it to two American industries, psychotherapy and spiritual seeking.

When the World's Parliament of Religions convened at the Columbian Exposition at Chicago in 1893, it brought together delegates of Judaism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Jainism, Islam, and several varieties of Christianity. Recent critics of the event have noted that the overwhelmingly Protestant organizers imposed their own culturally specific views of what constitutes religion on the non-Christian participants. But the guiding refrain of the Parliament—the unity of God and the brotherhood of man—reflects not only the specifically Social Gospel theology of the Protestant organizers but also a much wider consensus on the proper character, scope, and function of religion in a modernizing, globalizing, secularizing world. Buddhists from Japan, Hindus and Jains from India, and Buddhists from Ceylon actively participated in this international turn toward social religion as a way of pursuing their own culturally specific claims of distinct national identity, while Jews and Catholics in the United States equally adeptly claimed ownership of this central rhetoric of social religion in order to penetrate the American cultural mainstream.

The norm of American national life is war. From colonial origins to the present, Americans have never seen a generation that was not preoccupied with wars, threats of wars, and military interventions on foreign soils. This is not something Americans—or American historians—are trained to think about. In American memory and mythology, the United States is, at heart, a nation of peace; it unleashes the quiver of war as a last resort and only when pushed. In like manner religion, especially what we now call evangelical Protestantism, has been a conspicuous presence in American wars from the seventeenth century to the present. American wars are sacred wars and American religion, with some notable exceptions, is martial at the very core of its being. The ties between war and religion are symbiotic and the two grew up inextricably intertwined.