By extending the priesthood to all worthy males in June 1978 — 25 years ago — leaders of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints toppled a major roadblock to growth, opening the church to what has become a tidal wave of black members internationally.
Membership in predominantly black nations has skyrocketed in the past 30 years (see accompanying chart), yet those who have studied African-American church members know there has been no comparable rush toward conversion in the United States.
Race is not listed on church membership records, so the actual number of African-American members remains unknown. Relatively large concentrations of black members are located almost exclusively in major urban centers, including Southern California; Chicago; Cleveland; Washington, D.C.; Boston; New York and Atlanta.
So how has the church changed during the past quarter century? How do African-American members see themselves within the context of the LDS Church, and how do white LDS members view them? What attracts some U.S. blacks to the church and what keeps others from joining?
Armand L. Mauss, professor emeritus of sociology and religious studies at Washington State University, has studied such questions for 40 years. While the church as an institution had historical conceptions of race — including notions about Hispanics, Jews and blacks — that were a sort of subcurrent to official doctrine, "that's all been dropped" from official teachings and general discourse since 1978, as has the notion that some ethnic groups had "believing blood" and would more readily accept LDS doctrine, Mauss said.
He believes LDS leaders and most members have "finally come to the realization that . . . lineage really is totally irrelevant," particularly in light of the apostle Paul's teaching that "when we've accepted Christ, we're all Abraham's children."
'Dual identity'
Yet the paradigm shift doesn't erase the "dual identity" that blacks, Hispanics and other minorities within the church feel, he said. How to find peace in being both black and LDS with one identity not overpowering the other is no simple matter. White members who have always felt culturally at home in the church often don't understand the inner conflict.
Cultural considerations are paramount for many, particularly with regard to what is considered religious music and worship. Gospel music is worshipful to blacks, yet the same music is generally unacceptable in LDS services. Verbal response from the congregation during a sermon is part of black culture but doesn't fit LDS worship guidelines, Mauss said.
The philosophical mind-set behind the dual identity blacks feel regarding the church's past policies on race also ranges widely, according to Mauss and O. Kendall White Jr., professor of sociology and anthropology at Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Va.
They agree that some African-Americans have decided the priesthood ban was simply part of the larger societal racism and changed with the times. Others believe it was never authentic and didn't have anything to do with the spiritual core of the church. Many of those joined before 1978, believing the church would change its position and now feel vindicated in their belief.
Some are not "particularly concerned with the past but the present and future and sort of seeing their consideration of LDS history as a move toward an integrated church," White said.
Still others join or become interested in the church knowing nothing about the ban, and when they discover the history, they're "really presented with a predicament."
Key encounters
Mauss said whether such people — either members or those considering baptism — stay with the church or leave often depends "on how their discovery is handled by the priesthood leaders they encounter." Some blacks believe the answer may be one key to why African-American membership hasn't kept pace with black membership growth internationally.
"One of first things they do is go to a bishop or a missionary and ask" about the ban. The answer "becomes the basis for a very smooth integration and healing over the past policy or becomes the basis for a very contentious break with the church," Mauss said.
And the answers such queries elicit are quite variable, with very few getting "any informed historical explanation — only a handful of scholars can give them that."
Answers range from "we don't really know, but we're glad it's over and it's all in the past and we'd like to go on from here" to something like "blacks couldn't hold the priesthood in the past because they're descendants of Cain, but now the Lord has relented and aren't we all grateful," Mauss said.
"You can imagine what a hair-straightening effect (the latter response) has. If the damage from that response isn't contained very quickly, the person is out of the church within a month or two. That's been a serious problem," Mauss said.
Struggling with 'why'
White and Mauss agree that even as the bulk of white, American church members seem to have become more liberal in their views on civil rights and consider race something of a "non-issue" in the church, the past isn't so easily reconciled for others.
"It's a lot like political discourse," White said, remembering many people who were opposed to civil rights legislation through the '60s, "but if you listen to them today they would sound like they were part of the movement." While that's positive on the whole, they said, it tends to overshadow real challenges for many African-Americans and some white Latter-day Saints, who struggle with "why."
Mauss believes the "reluctance of church leaders to talk about the past or try to explain it is part of a general church posture in the way we deal with the uncomfortable past," whether it is with blacks, the Mountain Meadows massacre or polygamy. "Refusing to talk about it works for most people, because most members don't have any stake in getting these explanations."
Simply forgetting becomes "a device for retaining loyalty to the church and moving forward with an optimistic outlook." But he believes there is a "serious downside" to such a strategy. Many members and investigators "really want to know how it all originated in the first place. For some, there's a very conscientious need to come to terms with it as a basis for their own testimony. It's not enough to simply say we don't want to talk about that any more."
A participatory church
For many who learn about the history and join the church anyway, the faith's emphasis on the traditional family and integration within LDS culture can provide a deep sense of satisfaction. In a study that involved Southern blacks, White said they were drawn to the "participatory nature" of the LDS Church, with responsibilities delegated to lay members. "One couple talked about how nice it was to be called 'brother' and 'sister' even by little children."
Despite the historic portrayal of segregation keeping blacks and whites apart, White has documented the openness to such "belonging" that personal relationships between the groups there have spawned. Yet there's no good way to document what, in addition to the gospel itself, draws African Americans to the church in the 21st century, he said.
While there was something of a rush among sociologists to study the attitudes of African-American Latter-day Saints through the 1980s, much of the available research since has been based oral history interviews conducted two decades ago. The church does its own research in-house, but such studies generally are not published or available to outside researchers. And since race is not part of membership records, gathering a representative sample of African- American members would be a very costly enterprise, White said.
The lack of attention to the topic is bad from a social science perspective, but it may be "a good sign in the sense that the issue is no longer an issue in the same way."
E-mail: carrie@desnews.com
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