When the good folks at Wilson’s Barton College invited me to be the speaker for its annual Allan Sharp lecture, I hesitated. I had never entertained the idea of speaking on the designated topic, “Southern Religion As Seen Through the Eyes of a Journalist.”It was a challenging assignment. In retrospect, I don’t think I did very well addressing such an elusive mystique as Southern religion.
Before going over, I consulted my guru on all things religious, the Rev. Bob Mullinax, and asked him to define “Southern religion.”
“The South,” he said, “was part of the Great Awakening movement and was fervent in the pursuit of ‘personal,’ largely Calvinistic religion during numerous periods of revivalism.
“Southern culture, characterized by lower incomes, lack of educational opportunity and concentration of wealth among land-and-slave owners, was fertile territory for the pietistic, ‘simple’ Gospel, with its promise of rewards and justice in the great out yonder.
“It is undeniable, I think, that Southern Religion was used, intentionally and/or in ignorance, to help keep the South poor by its anti-union stance, and racially divided by its perpetuation of anti-black attitudes following the Civil War.
“Blacks and poor whites needed one another, but were kept separate by a segregation supported by religious and political influences. Often-ignorant interpretations of a literal Bible worked hand-in-hand to preserve the status quo.”
There’s no doubt but what Southern religion has a distinct flavor, more emotional, and, as skeptics argue, more irrational. It is deeply rooted in unquestioning faith and the power of prayer.
For example, while we were visiting our Florida family at Thanksgiving, the St. Petersburg Times reported that a woman in nearby Port St. Lucie had been flipping flapjacks made from a $1.25 package of mix from Wal-Mart when she noticed the image of Jesus and Mary on one of the pancakes.
Promptly posting the pancake on eBay, she soon had an offer of $338 from an Alabama woman who wanted it for a going-away gift to her husband being deployed to Iraq. When the deal fell through, an Illinois man snapped up the pancake for $29.
Could this happen outside the South?
Prayer is the foundation of Southern religion as I perceive it. That may be due to the fact that the Baptists, for long the South’s dominant denomination, pray at the drop of a hat. Sometimes for the strangest things. In last Sunday’s N&O letters to the editor, readers were hotly debating whether God answered prayers for rain.
Some prayers defy rationality. A Foothills relative once told me that she, running late for a hair appointment, asked God to turn all the stoplights green along the way, and the Almighty complied, getting her there two minutes early. She was offended by my suggestion that she see a shrink.
That’s not to say I haven’t also been guilty of such ecclesiastical nonsense. For years, I prayed for Carolina victories in football and basketball. I eventually came to my senses after Notre Dame beat us seven years in a row, concluding that God either was a Catholic or didn’t give a doodle about the outcome of sporting contests.
One of my favorite stories from UNC coach Dean Smith has its roots in those early years, when the Dean was recruiting players from “up Nawth.”
A certain player, a tiger on defense and master of the slam dunk, nevertheless was a disaster at the free throw line, although he unfailingly crossed himself before every shot.
Finally, the priest at the local Catholic church approached Coach Smith in a restaurant and said, “Coach, would you please do me a favor and ask Tommy not to cross himself before he takes those charity shots. With his dismal record, he’s giving the Catholic Church a bad name.”
A Newsweek magazine poll has determined that 89 percent of Americans believe God answers prayers, but only 51 percent think he pays attention to the outcome of sports events.
It is human nature that when don’t get what we pray for, we tend to pout, much in the way described by poet Emily Dickinson:
Of course I prayed
And did God care?
He cared as much
As on the air
A bird had stamped her foot
And cried ‘Give me!’
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