Exiles in a Foreign Land

Abstract

Despite documentation of intergroup conflict between African Americans and Irish immigrants during the mid-nineteenth to mid-twentieth centuries, few studies have comparatively considered the beneficence of religion as an adaptive, conciliatory mechanism for the two ethnic groups. Yet, literature supports the historic centrality of the Black Church for the former group and the indelible influence of Catholicism for the latter. This research examines common religious themes and organized efforts associated with these faith traditions for the two historically oppressed groups. Informed by Cultural Theory, this study compares and contrasts religious cultural dynamics to illumine adaptive features and activism. Exilic themes based on nationality, race, and/or ethnicity tied to biblical symbolism; social programs and self-help; as well as appropriation of Liberation Theology are common group patterns. Yet, findings also illustrate the inability of religion to foster substantial intergroup cooperation in light of other prevailing systemic forces.

Keywords

religion immigrant African American Irish

Personal Reflexive Statement

This research reflects my continued efforts to foster community action and reconciliation across seemingly disparate groups. I have served as a community servant for over thirty years, largely as part of religious collectives such as Protestant and Catholic churches. Part of my work includes writing for academic and mainstream outlets as well as speaking locally, nationally, and internationally. The impetus for this article arose from an invited speaking engagement in Ireland on racial and ethnic commonalities across of historically disenfranchised groups as a precursor for establishing, building, and maintaining positive inter-group relationships.

How can we sing in a foreign land? This Old Testament lament characterized the Israelite exilic experience. But have other racial/ethnic groups bemoaned similarly and why? What were some of the tangible and intangible religious responses to the sobering reality of Otherness in an unfamiliar space? These are the queries examined here for African Americans and Irish immigrants. Literature illustrates the centrality of the historic Black Church for African Americans, particularly during periods of persecution (DuBois [1903] 2003; Frazier 1964; Lincoln and Mamiya 1990). Similarly, Catholicism was indelibly tied to the mobility of post-famine Irish immigrants (Blanshard 1953; Grimes 1996). Despite similar experiences of mistreatment, history chronicles their strained relationship—particularly during the mid-nineteenth to mid-twentieth centuries (Roediger 2005, 2007). Yet, few studies have comparatively considered parallel, adaptive religious experiences and responses during this same period. This study responds to this paucity in research by examining the historic role of aspects of religion, Protestantism and Catholicism, in the lives of U.S. African Americans and Irish immigrants, respectively. Central to the assessment is the influence of both the Black Church and the Catholic Church.¹ I am particularly interested in the beneficence religion and religious organizations had during periods of discrimination and disenfranchisement as well as nuanced appropriations of similar religious cultural tools. This meta-analysis, informed by Cultural Theory, identifies as well as compares and contrasts three dimensions of religion that mediated challenges for Irish immigrants and African Americans in both spiritual and temporal ways.

The ecological differences in the experiences of involuntary and voluntary immigration for African Americans and Irish immigrants, respectively, are well documented and will not be debated here (Franklin 1968; Gates 2011; Roediger 2005, 2007; Tully 2010). Although some members of the latter group were involved in the mistreatment of the former (McCaffrey 1997; Roediger 2007), several broad common experiences support the viability of the current analysis. First, and most evidently, both groups have a history of negative experiences as minorities in the United States based on nationality, race, ethnicity, and/or class. Furthermore, fear of their growth and potential influence among native Whites; their numeric minority statuses; and exposure to violence, verbal abuses, and stereotypes are other commonalities. Despite phenotypic, political, economic, or cultural differences, this analysis suggests that common religious resources and related cultural components were harnessed in response to oppression.

This study identifies and illumines experiential similarities when religion in general and church culture in particular helped mediate mistreatment for the two groups as well as the exilic themes, theological stances, and social programs that resulted. I do not examine every aspect or implication of religion or of the religious cultural patterns that emerge, but rather initiate documentation of cross-cultural commonalities, experiences, and approaches used to maximize limited resources, combat contestation, and secure economic, political, and social footholds in an often unwelcoming U.S. context. To my knowledge, this type of comparative analysis has yet to be undertaken using a religious lens. It is also worthwhile to document instances of cross-cultural resilience as strategies and best practices for contemporary populations who face inequities and intergroup tensions. Finally, findings from this understudied phenomenon may shed light on how religion as a structural force bears out when confronted by other influential social forces such as capitalism and nativism.

African American and Irish Immigrant Experiences in the United States

Scholars have chronicled the Irish immigrant experience in the United States and the role of Catholicism in the process (Blanshard 1953; McCaffrey 1997; Tully 2010) as well as correlates between the African American experience and Protestantism (DuBois [1903] 2003; Franklin 1968; Frazier 1964; Gates 2011; Quarles 1987). Rather than attempt to duplicate their efforts, this section summarizes both groups’ histories to contextualize a comparative analysis of certain religious beliefs and behavior.

Beginning in the seventeenth century, several pre- and post-Potato Famine waves of Irish² immigrated to the United States to escape poverty, starvation, overpopulation, industrialization, and increasingly oppressive British colonialism (Allen 1997; Handlin 1941; Ignatiev 1995; Tully 2010). Initial immigrants were relatively fewer in number as compared to later waves; they also tended to be Protestant and had social capital to help facilitate their transition. However, by 1840, post-famine Irish immigrants were significantly more numerous and usually lacked the social capital of their earlier counterparts (Grimes 1996; Handlin 1941; Roediger 2007). Their arrival fostered prejudices, discrimination, and even violence by native Whites based on the former group’s class, clothing, language, and supposed questionable morals.³ Between 1800 and 1920, a reported 5 million Irish immigrants came to the United States. Many entered and settled in large seaport cities such as New York, Boston, and Philadelphia—about 75 percent were Catholic⁴ (McCaffrey 1997; Roediger 2005; Tully 2010). Anti-Catholic sentiments emerged such that native Whites believed that “it was not just a matter of economic status, but that the Irish Catholics had ‘permanent racial endowments’ which prevented them from ever assimilating into American society” (Tully 2010:15). The now well-known statement, “none need apply but Americans” (Handlin 1941:67) also confronted Irish immigrants; many were relegated to low-wage jobs and life in shanty towns.

By the 1890s, there were an estimated 7.3 million Catholics in this country; most bishops were Irish. The Catholic Church emerged as a spiritual and temporal respite as well as an important mechanism in the assimilation of Irish immigrants. Yet despite significant inroads to Americanization, many Irish immigrants, especially Catholics, continued to be politically and ethnically tied to Ireland; tensions between life in the United States and love of homeland were embedded in their experiences and identities (Grimes 1996; Miller 1985; Tully 2010). Moreover, Irish attempts to achieve White status usually meant intentionally aligning themselves with native Whites as well as distancing themselves from other minority groups such as African Americans—who they also feared would take jobs and neighborhoods to which many Irish felt entitled. Much of the century after 1840 was particularly volatile in Northern spaces, given the pattern of Irish-led verbal altercations, riots, and gang violence against African Americans (Roediger 2005, 2007). Despite a myriad of challenges tied to nativism and anti-Catholicism, strategic political involvement in locales such as New York, Boston, and Chicago;⁵ strong family ties; employment on railroads and canals in big cities and mill towns; and extensive parish networks resulted in significant assimilation and economic mobility among Irish immigrants (Allen 1997; Handlin 1941; Ignatiev 1995; Tully 2010). However, their African American peers did not fare similarly.

Unbeknownst to the first indentured Africans who came ashore in Jamestown, VA, in 1619, they would be some of the most well-known ancestors of the 10–15 million Africans enslaved during the Transatlantic Slave Trade to the United States.⁶ The need for labor, compounded by economic greed meant that by the 1700s, chattel slavery was an integral part of the U.S. economic, political, and social systems—justified by pejorative ideological views about persons of African descent. By 1860, there were an estimated 3–4 million slaves in the United States and varied levels of opposition and support for abolition. Germane to this study, Catholic views on slavery were inconsistent. Catholic immigrants such as the Irish usually lived in Northern states and thus were not directly connected to chattel slavery. Many were also concerned that freed slaves would represent competition for low-wage jobs. Moreover, abolitionist leaders often espoused anti-Catholic rhetoric. So although they opposed slavery in principle, “Catholics were unwilling to sacrifice the Union for abolition” (Grimes 1996:129). Yet, full enforcement of the Emancipation Proclamation by 1865 meant an end to slavery and de facto discrimination and a period of African American political and economic advancement. However, strides were short-lived.

Enactment of Jim Crowism in the late 1890s resulted in both de facto and de jure discrimination and a resurgence of segregation, economic oppression, voter suppression, and rampant discrimination of African Americans, particularly in the South. Yet even during the most problematic periods in history, freed African Americans attempted to build viable, yet segregated communities (Billingsley 1992; Gates 2011; Lincoln and Mamiya 1990). A series of northern migrations in the twentieth century in search of employment, safety, and other opportunities put increasing numbers of African Americans in close proximity with impoverished migrants such as the Irish as both residents in urban ghettos and competitors for low-waged employment (Berry and Blassingame 1982; Ignatiev 1995). Like their Irish peers, African Americans faced similarly disparaging stereotypes as irresponsible, lazy, and debaucherous people of dubious moral convictions (Roediger 2005; West 1993). Moreover, African Americans were likely to face ill treatment at the hands of both native Whites and Irish immigrants. Yet strengths evident in the black community, the Black Church, and the African American family meant that segments of this population were adaptive and resilient despite such challenges (Billingsley 1992; Lincoln and Mamiya 1990). This summary does not suggest homogeneity for either the Irish immigrant or the African American experience, nor does it do justice to their complex backgrounds, but it provides an historical framework to consider certain intragroup and intergroup religious experiences as well as related religious cultural components.

Cultural Theory and the Study of African American and Irish Immigrant Religious Experiences

In organizations such as churches, members often rely on intangible as well as tangible cultural resources to understand experiences and accomplish objectives. Cultural Theory provides a robust paradigm to examine and describe these tendencies. Swidler (1986:273) defines a cultural repertoire or “tool kit” as “symbolic vehicles of meaning, including beliefs, ritual practices, art forms, and ceremonies, as well as informal cultural practices such as language, gossip, stories, and rituals of daily life.” For example, common cultural tools from the black religious tradition include rituals, gospel music, and prayer that provide both meaning and motivation for group action (Barnes 2005; Wilmore 1995). Culture can also move beyond its original religious import and foster social action as well as help convert undeveloped beliefs, language, and expressions into definite goals based on certain contexts (Swidler 1995).

Strategic use of cultural tools can assist groups in identifying and understanding challenges, developing appropriate responses, and moving toward desired outcomes. In this study, these “strategies of action” (Swidler 1986:280) are expected to be informed by common oppressive experiences for Irish immigrants and African Americans based on factors such as ethnicity, class, and nonnative status. Yet, population-specific tactics are predicted to emerge based on heterogeneity and self-interest. Individual and group agency means deciding whether and how to appropriate, reappropriate, or nuance culture or reject certain cultural tools all together (Swidler 2001). The process becomes particularly salient when confronting conflict or problems. Other instances of usage of religious cultural tools for efficacy and social action include, but are not limited to, use of Catholic liturgies by priests to motivate urban parishioners to social action (Cavendish 2000, 2001); songs and biblical symbolism during the Civil Rights Movement (Morris 1984); emphasizing scripture to reinforce marital bonds and church commitment (Swidler 2001); invoking church cultural tools during secular social action (Pattillo-McCoy 1998); and spiritual and secular syncretization of tools to proselytize and organize large-scale programs (Barnes 2010; Tucker 2011).

This theory also suggests that organizations like churches reinforce and help codify cultural tools for believers. Thus, as people “practice” culture in churches and parishes, it often empowers them to consistently employ these same tools in daily life. However, people tend to rely on cultural tools they have the ability to understand and easily use (Swidler 2001). This means that for both populations, dynamics such as group and individual histories, structural forces, social position relative to the dominant group, and intergroup views are expected to shape whether and how similar cultural components are employed.

Study Context and Methodology

This study is undergirded by academic and mainstream historical accounts of the African American and Irish immigrant experiences in the United States focusing broadly on the mid-1800s to mid-1900s. The research process included scouring and cross-checking well over 50 books and articles as well as over 100 songs that referenced the two groups in general and their religious experiences in particular. Given the analytical focus on historic religiosity, research on the Irish experience by scholars such as Roediger (2005, 2007), McCaffrey (1997), Grimes (1996), Blanshard (1953), O’Brien (1968), Tully (2010), and McVeigh (1993) was essential; peer scholars on the African American religious experience included DuBois [1903] 2003, Frazier (1964), Lincoln and Mamiya (1990), and Costen (1993).

Musicology, songs, and lyrics were particularly salient and emerged most specifically from research on both the Irish (Grimes 1996; Julian [1907] 1957; Smith [1913] 1970) and African American experiences (Costen 1993; DuBois [1953] 1996; Jones 1993; Sanders 1996). These writers’ work includes references to hymns, other songs, and lyrics most endemic to their respective demographic foci. Although these are not the only scholars to illumine the Irish American and African American experiences, they are considered some of most prolific writers on these subjects. Songs noted or discussed in their research served as potential candidates for cross-cultural comparisons as I further considered the religious experiences across the two groups in the following hymnals; Hymns, African American Heritage Hymnal, Gospel Pearls, New National Baptist Hymnal ( 1977 ), and Songs of Zion. Although other hymnals exist that contain songs that may be potentially germane to this analysis, the previous hymnals include verses, chants, and songs widely used in their respective religious traditions (Costen 1993; Grimes 1996; Julian [1907] 1957; Smith [1913] 1970). Moreover, several common lyrical patterns became evident that suggested that, although clearly different in terms of race, migration experiences, and U.S. history, some African Americans and Irish Americans may have similarly appropriated certain religious themes broadly to help explain and describe their experiences as exiles.

Content analysis was the chosen analytical approach and reflected a close reading of the aforementioned texts to compare and contrast experiences, beliefs, responses, and strategies that emerged as a result of conflict or adaptations to a new milieu. Moreover, I was interested in meanings and common themes as well as how the emergent religious cultural components were nuanced by each population based on their specific situations (Denzin and Lincoln 2005; Krippendorf 1980). Rather than the definitive study on intergroup religious experiences, I consider this endeavor the impetus for future investigations of how religion and related cultural tools may mediate deleterious forces or become impotent in the face of other, equally influential forces.

Interethnic Comparisons of Exilic Themes and Religious Cultural Tools

According to sociologist R. Stephen Warner (1998:3), “people migrating to the U.S. bring their religions with them…their religious identities often (but not always) mean more to them away from home, in their Diaspora, than they did before.” Despite their dramatically different arrival patterns, this assessment seems appropriate when considering the experiences of African Americans and Irish immigrants. Three themes emerge during this analysis that support an exilic understanding of experiences for the two populations expressed in religious songs, organized church programmatic responses, and theological interpretations. These themes are not presented as their only commonalities, but provide concrete evidence of spiritual and temporal responses to an Outsider stance. While the first pattern illustrates how religious cultural tools mediate some of the psychological and emotional outcomes of an exilic experience, organized church programs and events reflect the adaptive, resilient nature being outsiders can foster. Third, appropriation of Liberation Theology suggests the desire among social justice advocates from the two populations to reimagine exile and the possibility of creating a new home. Of particular interest here are the meanings, motivations, and ultimately, strategies of action, forwarded by both Irish immigrants and African Americans to engender group uplift and fend off discrimination.

Exilic Biblical Themes and Religious Song Lyrics

For both African Americans and Irish immigrants, an exilic theme connoted the reality that they were estranged from their homelands. Fractured identities as well as emotional and psychological trauma resulted, as both groups experienced alienation and mistreatment. For the former group, images of foreigners in a strange land were common references for both slaves and emancipated African Americans—most symbolically associated with the Israelite experience (Cone 1997; Sanders 1996). The Old Testament clan’s trials, triumphs, and final vindication via interventions from a just God resonated with African Americans. Costen’s (1993) description of the irony of the African introduction to this faith tradition illumines an exilic theme; “in a strange and alien land, they were enslaved, marginalized, denied respect, and oppressed by the very people who introduced them to Christianity!” (p. 14). Informed by the earlier biblical reference, spirituals emerged as a religious cultural tool for African Americans to epitomize their experiences, provide cathartic relief, as well as directly and indirectly foster activism (Swidler 1986, 1995). Jones (1993) describes their ability to provide both meaning and motivation:

Spiritual songs that originated in slavery are important and accessible survivals of a culture that has within its elements of extraordinary healing power…you cannot sing a song and not change your condition…many spirituals served both purposes, providing singing with a medium for the periodic expression of sorrows while at the same time offering a channel for the experience of hope…spirituals are in many ways social action music. (Pp. xiv, xv, 22, 24)

The multidimensionally religious, social, theological, political, and historical nature of spirituals as cultural tools to describe troubles, provide liberation, and affirm life is also espoused by other writers and challenges belief in their singularly religious, passive character (Cone 1972; Costen 1993). Their exilic lyrics depict a people caught between two continents, two U.S. spaces, and, in some instances, life and death; “Negroes…took flight to ‘better’ territory when possible…and laid hold upon another world as a last resort” (Fisher 1953:183).

The following African American spiritual, “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child,” illustrates the angst and anguish of the foreigner status as well as the unyielding strength evident in the singer’s lament:

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child,

A long way from home, a long way from home.

A long way from home, a long way from home. (Costen 1993:106)

In addition to emphasizing an exilic theme (i.e., “a long way from home”), the above-mentioned first stanza metaphorically references the twofold susceptibility of child vulnerability compounded by the absence of maternal protection. This precarious position alludes to both societal neglect and abuse, yet the lyrics attempt to provide emotional consolation in response to posttraumatic stress (Costen 1993; Swidler 1986, 1995). Indomitability is suggested by the ability to forestall complete annihilation (i.e., “sometimes I feel”) as a result of slavery. DuBois ([1953] 1996) provides additional exilic illustrations; the first delineates toil on and in alien soil, the second, requited love, yet both singers pine for home:

‘Der’s no rain to wet you, Dere’s no sun to burn you,

Oh, push along, believer, I want to go home.

Poor Rosy, poor gal. Poor Rosy, Poor gal;

Rosy break my poor heart. Heav’n shall a be my home. (P. 260)

Given their origins in chattel slavery, references to home had multiple meanings—Africa, possible safe travels to freedom in the North or Canada, or a heavenly utopia (Costen 1993; DuBois [1953] 1996; Jones 1993; Sanders 1996). Despite varied interpretations, through spirituals, African Americans made distinctions between their current displacement and an anticipated future refuge. In another example, the ex-slave Anderson Edwards describes chronic suffering and anticipated salvation in song:

We prayed a lot to be free and the Lord done heered us. We didn’t have no song books and the Lord done give us our songs and when we sing them at night it jus’ whispering so nobody hear us. One went like this: ‘My knee bones am aching, My body’s rackin’ with pain, I ‘lieve I’m a chile of God, And this ain’t my home, ‘Cause Heaven’s my aim.” (Costen 1993:43)

Associating wilderness imagery with the United States metaphorically alludes to both ethically uncultivated spaces that would condone enslavement and the bewildering state most slaves found themselves—from which only God would provide refuge:

I sought my Lord in de wilderness,

In de weilderness, in de wilderness;

I sought my Lord in de wilderness,

For I’m a—going home. (Costen 1993:45)

As an historic black religious cultural component, spirituals reflect a fusion of sacred and secular beliefs and everyday resistance (Lincoln and Mamiya 1990). As slaves and later freed persons sang such songs, they practiced culture and fortified themselves to challenge the status quo and endure hardship. Beyond their therapeutic and religious import, songs with exilic themes such as “Don’t be Weary, Traveller,” Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” and “Steal Away” represent cultural tools that enabled people to make sense of life in a foreign land fraught with contradictions and challenges. Cone (1972) describes their musical response to exilic trauma best, “we are told the people of Israel could not sing the Lord’s song in a strange land. But, for blacks, their being [emphasis is his] depended upon a song. Through song they built new structures for existence in an alien land” (pp. 31-32). The practical and transcendent nature of spirituals also tapped into cultural capacities at their disposal. Some slaves could not escape—but they could sing and pray to God; others relied on the same songs to communicate clandestine plans to escape exile home to freedom (Berry and Blassingame 1982; Costen 1993). Despite singularly different passages to the United States, like African Americans, Irish immigrants used religious musical expressions to counter travail in a new land.

Many Irish immigrants brought little with them but their cultural traditions as they reluctantly fled Ireland. Yet, an exilic theme was not a new one. For example, the following statement is etched on a wall of St. Patrick’s Cathedral and illustrates the embeddedness of an exilic theme in Irish history; “I am a rustic person in exile.”⁷ Just as the Patron Saint of Ireland wrote of his enslavement and estrangement in Roman Briton in the fifth century, post-famine Irish immigrants wrote and sang of similar experiences in the United States.⁸ Grimes (1996) expounds on this pattern and its manifestations:

Perhaps the single most important characteristic of the Irishman, which distinguished him from other immigrants of the time, was his belief the he was an exile, forced from his homeland by tyranny…the Irishman’s sense of exile in the new world is reflected both in songs…and in lyrics directly addressed to the Irish community in America. (P. 3)

And more specifically, “Irish-American Catholics thought of themselves as exiles rather than immigrants, constantly dreaming of home and wishing to return there, and refusing to come to terms with their new situation” (McCaffrey 1997:2).⁹ Believed to be the oldest form of Irish music still in existence, the custom of keening to commemorate physical death correlates exile with religiosity and national identity. Grimes (1996) describes this premigration practice:

It was only sung at the time of death; as the emigrant was leaving for America, those left behind would keen for the departure. The night before departure from Ireland, the family and friends of the emigrants would gather for what was termed an “American wake”. (Pp. 162-63)

Although originally a cathartic ritual lead by women, the rounds of wailing, murmuring, and singing were part of an indelible cultural practice that was usually frowned upon by Catholic Church leaders in the United States.

Yet, the Catholic Church emerged as a communal site for exilic tensions to play out in music. For Grimes (1996:8), “the parish also became a musical center of immigrant life…given the institutional nature of the parish, evidence of musical practice has survived and can provide us with a view of the music employed by a substantial segment of the white urban lower-class of the mid-19th century.” Practicing culture meant highly ritualized canonical music and a repertoire including liturgical works of Mozart and Haydn, Gregorian chants, folk tunes, and American tunes. Like African Americans who syncretized varied music forces, “the Irish immigrants employed the music at hand, both traditional, borrowed, and newly composed, to suit the needs and goals of the growing Irish-American [emphasis is his] community” (Grimes 1996:172). Music also reflected their heritage, provided strength and comfort, and illustrated attempts to emulate native Whites;

The Irish immigrant parish would employ the works of Viennese composers for special occasions, but they often appear to do so not from a love of the music itself but from a desire to impress the non-Catholic world. (Grimes 1996:136)

Yet, the cathartic nature of parish music paralleled the functional role of music for African Americans. Just as Costen (1993) and Cone (1972) similarly described the latter’s reliance on spirituals, for the Irish exile, religious music was not merely aesthetic:

[It] raises the soul to heaven, inspires sublime feelings, and helps human infirmity to support itself longer in contemplation…Catholic singers—baptized vocal organs—infuse a life, a soul into the otherwise lifeless body of music notes. They bid the dry bones live…, music was used for some practical purpose, whether worship or dancing, story-telling or lamentation. (Grimes 1996:66, 136, 179)

The sense of alienation was particularly acute because anti-Catholic rhetoric suggested that the ability to become fully White meant distancing oneself from the very religion that undergirded Irish national, religious, and social identity. This inbetweeness is evident in many of the exilic themes and songs that Irish Catholics embraced (Fanning 2000; O’Grady 1973; Tully 2010). An example of a long-standing, popular exilic song, “Like the Children of Sion,” by Catholic priest Charles Constantine Pise first published in 1826, conjures biblical symbolism of the Israeli exilic experience also common in African American spirituals:

Like the children of Sion of Babylon’s shore,

Where Jerus’lem their country smiled round them no more;

Their harps were all lonely and wet with their tears,

And their bosoms were harrow’d with sorrow and fears.

So in this dark shade of this valley of life,

I recline me and think of my country above,

Had I wings like the dove I should fly from this strife

And repose in the arms of contentment and love.

O when to thy beautiful visions I turn

For thee like the love stricken turtle I mourn:

O! when from the storms of this world shall I flee,

And who would restore me Jerus’lem to thee. (Grimes 1996:117)

As singers make symbolic comparisons between the physical and spiritual milieus of Ireland and Jerusalem, the previous elegy underscores the unlikeliness of returning home. Moreover, allusions to Psalms 137 point to the duality of home where Sion could reference Ireland or an otherworldly utopia. The following Song of the Exile (1843) echoes the lament for voluntary migrants who pine for the day they can return home—and for those who embrace an involuntary identity and thus believe they never will:

Hail, thrice happy day to the exile endearing

As he wanders afar o’er life’s troubled sear,

And sacred’s the tie that still binds him to Erin,

While the pulse of his heart throbs for Cushlamachree.

No hills are so green as my own native mountains,

No valley so fertile, no flowers so fair;

No nectar more pure than the crystal-life fountain,’

Whose murmurs are fann’d by thine own balmy air.

(Catholic Total Abstinence Society; Grimes 1996:142-43)

The above love song symbolically personifies Ireland (i.e., “Erin”) and pledges undying allegiance (i.e., the Gaelic word Cushlamachree translates, “my dear” or “sweetheart”). Moreover, scenic descriptions allude to tensions between love of Ireland and possible devotion to the United States (Grimes 1996). Just as many African Americans experienced double consciousness, described by DuBois ([1953] 1996) as, “his twoness,—an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder” (p. 5), Irish immigrants often contended with similar internal struggles. And like African Americans, they relied on the therapeutic nature and exilic symbolism of religious songs to mediate their often uncertain U.S. transition. Beyond their similar linguistic references to home, the patterns evident in exilic music suggest similar existential understandings of displacement, estrangement, and longing.¹⁰

Programmatic Efforts and Self-help: Educating, Equipping, and Empowering Exiles

In addition to the psycho-emotional beneficence of religious exilic songs, one of the adaptive responses of racial/ethnic oppression for both African Americans and Irish immigrants was church-based programs. As exiles, both groups quickly understood the necessity of another religious cultural tool—organized self-help. In several seminal works, DuBois ([1903] 2003, [1953] 1996) reported the existence of 23,462 Negro churches in 1890, 1 for every 60 African American families in the United States, that offered a range of activities from Christian Education to secular training.¹¹ Black churches also organized economic projects such as mutual aid associations and building and loan establishments as early as the 1870s (Billingsley 1999; Drake and Cayton 1940). These institutions fostered an ethic that encouraged ethnic pride and positive racial identity, frugality, enterprise, as well as upward mobility. More practical benefits included meeting temporal needs, mediating negative interactions with intolerant Whites, and cultivating safe spaces for the daily round. Other common social programs included cash outlays, schools, childcare centers, recreational events, political rallies, and job placement programs (Billingsley 1992; DuBois [1903] 2003; Lincoln and Mamiya 1990). Both ideological and practical in nature, a belief in self-help and its related rituals and programs were in response to segregation and oppression from the broader society as well as proactive attempts at individual and collective self-efficacy. According to Billingsley (1992):

In addition to what it does for its members, the Black church as an institution has always reached out to serve important functions for the black community as a whole…a preserver of the African American heritage [emphasis is mine] and an agent for reform…over the years, the church has become the strongest institution in their community. It is prevalent, independent, and has extensive outreach. (Pp. 349-50)

Moreover, DuBois’ ([1953] 1996) singular, The Souls of Black Folk, details the Black Church’s historic, multifaceted connection between Africa and a foreign land:

The Negro church of to-day is the social centre of Negro life in the United States, and the most characteristic expression of African character [emphasis is mine]…the building is the central clubhouse…various organizations meet here,—the church proper, the Sunday-school, two or three issuance societies, women’s societies, secret societies, and mass meetings of various kinds. Entertainments, suppers, and lectures are held beside the five or six regular weekly religious services. Considerable sums of money are collected and expended here, employment is found for the idle, strangers are introduced, news is disseminated and charity distributed. At the same time this social, intellectual, and economic centre is a religious centre of great power…the Church often stands as a real conserver of morals, a strengthener of family life, and the final authority on which is Good and Right. (Pp. 194-95)

Although programs varied based on factors such as church size, denomination, and pastoral profile, the Black Church’s spiritual and social activities positioned it as the primary organized outlet to meet a myriad of needs of a largely physically, politically, socially, and economically estranged community (Berry and Blassingame 1982; Gates 2011; Quarles 1987). From its ideological inception as an invisible institution to its formal constitution, the Black Church was responsible for strategies of action that manifested as programs, counternarratives, worship experiences, and other beliefs and rituals to combat stereotypical negative images, unequal treatment, and sometimes, violence that African Americans experienced as aliens in White society (Costen 1993; DuBois [1903] 2003; Franklin 1968; Frazier 1964). As such, it is often considered the life’s blood of the African American community:

As the only stable and coherent institutional area to emerge from slavery, black churches were not only dominant in their communities but they also became the womb of black culture and a number of major social institutions…within the spheres of politics, economics, education, and culture. (Lincoln and Mamiya 1990:17)

Furthermore, the religious cultural capacities that cultivated such strategies of action were engendered by the realization of their inherent worth, humanity, and self-efficacy; knowledge of God’s love and concern; and awareness that concerted assistance from the larger society was not forthcoming. The above scholars describe the stability of organized religion for African Americans, its multifaceted embeddedness in the black community, its spiritual and practical transformative nature, and ultimately its presence as a social force against negative systemic factors. Although African Americans were aware of their African origins, relocation there did not appear to be a common expectation (West 1993); yet the illusiveness of equality with Whites, the need for vigilance to maintain economic and political inroads, and the continued specter of poverty and disenfranchisement fostered an exilic perspective.

Similarly, Catholic churches responded proactively to the precarious position in which their Irish parishioners found themselves—becoming central to their transition as:

…a living institution within the community…the Irish urban neighborhood of mid-century was usually among the poorest in a city, and frequently the only social services offered to the immigrant were from the church…the church building was a source of ethnic pride in the midst of the ghetto…the parish became the religious and educational center of Catholic immigrant life, with important political, social, and ethnic functions for the community. (Grimes 1996:ix, x, 6)

The similarities in verbiage about the Irish Catholic Church and the Protestant Black Church are not lost on the reader in addition to the comparable roles each institution played in their respective communities (e.g., the Black Church as “the womb of black culture” for Lincoln and Mamiya 1990, and its Catholic counterpart as “a living institution” for Grimes 1996). Tully (2010) details the latter’s services:

The rise of Catholic institutions—schools, colleges, hospitals, social clubs, etc.—were part of the larger pan-ethnic Catholic leadership role that Irish Americans sought to acquire…[an] extensive organizational network. (P. 32)

Like African Americans, the largely segregated nature of the Irish experience until the mid-1900s necessitated the development of community institutions, organizations, events, and networks to complete the daily round. The Catholic Church mediated many of these strategies of action for parishioners and community members. These self-help mechanisms were logistically essential and fueled the increasing economic viability in both Irish communities and among their families. Grimes (1996:7) contends, “events which had often taken place in private homes in rural Ireland-such as weddings, confessions, even Sunday masses—now were centered exclusively in the parish church.”

Beyond their religious and social significance, Catholic churches were also the site for initiatives to enhance generational life chances through educational initiatives. When describing Irish immigrant responses to parish-based schools, McCaffrey (1997:175) suggests that “their parents had taught them to appreciate education as an American mobility tool, and in many instances had made financial sacrifices to pay Catholic school tuitions.” The educational process included religious studies as well as instruction around work ethic, civic engagement, and identity development to facilitate acceptance among native Whites. Furthermore, it was common for parishes to sponsor concerts and other musical programs to raise funds for their schools, choirs, and community needs (Grimes 1996). Despite similar understandings about the importance of education for upward mobility (Billingsley 1992),¹² well-funded church schools were more prevalent in Irish Catholic churches than in African American ones.¹³ Yet because the Catholic moniker was so heavily and often negatively associated with being Irish, nativist Whites were known to pressure Irish immigrants to disassociate themselves from Catholicism in order to show racial allegiance (Grimes 1996; Tully 2010).

Yet, factors such as competition for low-wage jobs; continued pressures for Irish immigrants to build alliances with native Whites; intergroup mistrust, fear, and stereotypes; and group self-interests precluded most potentially mutually beneficial church alliances, programs, and exchanges between African Americans and Irish immigrants.¹⁴ McCaffrey (1997) describes one such example of interethnic conflict in 1940s New York and the inability of organized religion to mediate; “a massive migration of African Americans from South to North, and the expansion of Black ghettoes hastened their journey [Irish residential shifts]…sometimes priests attempted to persuade parishioners to stay and make friends with their new African-American neighbors” (p. 176), but to no avail. Church beneficence for both African Americans and Irish immigrants helped stave off the full effects of segregation, economic exploitation, and other forms of nativism, yet neither organized religious body was able to cultivate spaces where significant intergroup community- and resource-building took place that might have strengthened both groups’ fight against the aforementioned negative forces (Blanshard 1953; Ignatiev 1995; McCaffrey 1997).

Liberation Theology and Social Activism

The mutability of theology does not preclude its use by adherents to understand God, God’s relationship with humanity, and their place in the process (King 1994). Black Liberation Theology (BLT) is positioned as a more radical manifestation of this religious cultural tool. It is inextricably connected to figures such as James Cone, Gayraud Wilmore, and De Otis Roberts. Cone ([1969] 1999, 1972, 1995, 1997) is largely credited with formalizing its premise and constituent parts as well as delineating its unique appropriation from counterparts espoused in Latin America. According to its proponents, the existence of oppression requires implementation of a prophetic¹⁵ biblical lens that will transform both the oppressed and the oppressor. BLT centers a Black God who stands in the gap between black people and all forms of disenfranchisement—particularly racism. According to Cone (1997), an all-powerful God is intricately involved in the experiences and liberation of the less powerful; “the task of theology is to show the significance of the oppressed’s struggle against inhuman powers, relating the people’s struggles to God’s intention to set them free” (p. 90). Furthermore, this cultural tool provides a revolutionary model for empowerment. He continues:

The task of Black Theology, then, is to analyze the Black man’s condition in the light of God’s revelation in Jesus Christ with the purpose of creating a new understanding of Black dignity among Black people, and providing the necessary soul in that people, to destroy white racism. (Cone [1969] 1999:117)

Although largely espoused by religious intelligentsia, BLT is also embraced in black churches to foster positive racial identity, collective mobilization, and practical outcomes such as resourcefulness through education, economic advancement, and political activism (Battle 2006; Calhoun-Brown 1999; Thomas 2004a; Wilmore 1994).¹⁶ Yet, Liberation Theology also has a place and history in the Irish religious tradition. According to writer and social activism McVeigh (1993):

An Irish liberation theology will reflect the experiences of the Irish people as an oppressed and colonized nation which has not yet achieved full political and economic freedom and control over its own affairs…Liberation theology insists that the people who are oppressed and downtrodden must be empowered. It is the oppressed themselves who will bring about change and establish justice. Appealing to those in power to grant justice is futile. Education is the key to this empowerment—education as defined by Paulo Freire.” (Pp. 11, 46)

Just as James Cone stands as a central ideological figure in the organized formation of BLT, Freire is presented as the personification of the push toward social justice in Ireland and for Irish people in the United States. Similar to BLT, Irish advocates acknowledge both the importance of the Irish Catholic Church’s role to inform parishioners about inequality and the potential power collective mobilization can wield. In the earlier statement, education takes the form of literacy as well as political, social, and cultural capital to equip persons to become agents of change in society (Carroll 1987; Wilson and Wylie 1992). Just as BLT critiques White society and complicitous blacks who fail to champion the cause of the oppressed, Irish Liberation Theology (ILT) suggests that the routinized Irish Catholic Church and its theologians have historically taken a conservative stance “which upheld at all costs the official governments and rulers” (McVeigh 1993:94; also refer to Carroll 1987; Hughes 1966; Whyte 1984). Interestingly, ILT supporters have been directly informed by activism from the Black Church tradition:

In the Irish Catholic preaching and teaching, there is a strong emphasis on personal piety and on personal morality…It is for the most part abstract and unrelated to the specific needs and problems of the people living here today. As James Cone, the African American theologian, writes about the similar situation facing the African American Church: ‘I contend that when theological discourse overlooks the oppressed and the hope given by Jesus Christ in their struggle, it inevitably becomes abstract talk, geared to the ideological justification of the status quo.’ (McVeigh 1993:95, 136)

The above quote illustrates that certain Irish appropriations of prophetic biblical symbolism have been influenced by key African American religious thinkers and Black Church activism (Cone 1995; Lincoln and Mamiya 1990). For them, the similarly negative experiences of the two racial groups warrant similar theological and practical responses. The following comment provides a further intergroup parallel:

The central message of the Christian Gospel—to bring good news to the poor and oppressed—has to come into focus again in the Irish Catholic Church. The Church is meant to be a prophetic voice calling for justice and urging dialogue toward democratic solutions. Before it can be this it must make a preferential option for the cause of the poor and oppressed. (McVeigh 1993:120)

Careful review of the previous statement provides several common themes for the two populations, including each respective Church’s preferential option for disenfranchised groups as inherently valuable; a prophetic voice as a necessary feature of relevant religion; the relationship between societal democracy and church efforts; correlates between a salvific experience and social action; and religion-based rallying of alienated groups (Carroll 1987; Cone [1969] 1999, 1995; McVeigh 1993; Wilson and Wylie 1992). However, unlike the model of a Black God in BLT, the Irish appropriation finds a unique place for another iconic religious figure—the Virgin Mary:

Irish Catholics have a strong devotion to Mary. Liberation theology stresses the role of Mary in God’s work of liberation…Mary, the mother of Jesus, identified the causes of inequality in her society…and she accepted that done by the prophets who identified injustice and oppression by the rich and mighty as the cause of poverty…In this regard Mary was a revolutionary. (McVeigh 1993:125)

By referencing passages such as Luke 1:39, Irish Liberationism parallels the spirit of Womanism that centers the experiences of the poor African American female as the liberator motif against racism, sexism, classism, and heterosexism—evident in the nontraditionally radical nature of everyday resistance (Battle 2006; Cannon 1988; Cannon, Townes, and Sims 2011; Collins 2000; Gilkes 2001; Grant 1989; Thomas 2004a, 2004b; Townes 2006).¹⁷ ILT suggests that Mary plays a similar symbolic role for followers. As they face oppression and despite their current circumstances, both African American and Irish proponents believe in their Godly ordained ability to transform themselves and society. Yet, each group appropriates Liberation Theology uniquely in light of their particular religious tradition, history, race/ethnicity, and understanding of the systemic sources of their oppression. For example, the nature and scope of womanism with its intersectional lens is generally considered the most potentially transformative paradigm for disenfranchised individuals and groups because of its emphasis on inclusivity, systemic change to dismantle all forms of inequality, and providing voice to all disempowered groups (Cannon et al. 2011; Gilkes 2001; Grant 1989; Thomas 2004b; Townes 2006). These findings do not negate the differences between how Liberation theologies are appropriated by the two groups, but rather suggest that an argument can be made that the Irish appropriation of Liberation Theology includes aspects of both BLT and womanism—the former emphasis largely as a result of ethnic and class oppression as well as xenophobia and the latter focus due to ties to theological traditions in the Catholic Church.

Although intergroup altercations between Irish immigrants and African Americans were typically initiated by the former group (McCaffrey 1997; Roediger 2005, 2007), conciliatory gestures and events were also spurred by certain Catholic leaders who understood their common challenges and embraced a liberation motif. For example, sociologist and leader in the Catholic Worker Movement during the Great Depression, Paul Furfey’s social activism stemmed from a critique that:

Exponents of moderation in Catholic social action bargained and compromised with the world, overlooked the needs for fundamental change, and acquiesced in materialism, racial discrimination, and injustice. In return they were allowed to sit on the boards of community chests, their charities received large grants from millionaires, their schools were objects of philanthropic favor, and their religious liberty was respected. (O’Brien 1968:185-86)

His stance reflects the essence of Liberation Theology and social justice to uncompromisingly denounce injustice and complicity as well as acknowledge the inherent value of the poor. According to Furfey, Irish Catholics were compelled to:

Proclaim without modification that men are bound to assist their neighbors, to identify with the poor and the oppressed or risk eternal punishment. Furfey despised arguments from prudence that would neglect the Negro in order to avoid hurting the Church in the South. (O’Brien 1968:186)

Like other vocal proponents, he believed that societal transformation could only occur with divine intervention through the “practice of supernatural virtues” (O’Brien 1968:186) in order to move Catholic reformers beyond social programs focused on short-term economic aid or social work fueled by paternalism. Similarly, other members of this movement such as Dorothy Day, challenged Irish Catholics, particularly clergy, against directly or tacitly participating in the oppression of other minority groups like African Americans, in order to assimilate and placate nativist Whites:

The scandal of businesslike priests, of collective wealth, the lack of a sense of responsibility for the poor, the worker, the Negro, the Mexican, and Filipino, and even the oppression of these, and the consenting of the oppression of these by our industrial capitalist order—these made me feel that priests were more like Cain than Abel. (quoted in O’Brien 1968:204-5)

Other examples like Catholic bishop John England’s efforts to educate African American children in the 1830s were met with derision and assault by native Whites in Charleston, South Carolina (McAvoy 1969).¹⁸ Although a highly debated topic (Allen 1997; Ignatiev 1995; Lott 1993), the preponderance of academic sources suggest that Irish Americans were minimally involved in interethnic social action and tacitly condoned and/or benefited from backlash against groups such as African Americans in ways that eclipsed the above types of religion-based conciliatory activities (Ignatiev 1995; McCaffrey 1997; Roediger 2005, 2007; Tully 2010).

Challenges for Intergroup Solidarity among Exilic Groups

The previous three thematic instances of historic responses to exilic experiences for Irish immigrants and African Americans provide a portrait of people who were often lamenting an irretrievable past, proactively and programmatically responding to a precarious present, and embracing nontraditional theologies to encourage a utopian future. Each also illustrates the mediating effects and beneficence of congregational life and related cultural tools during the process. This analysis further suggests that, despite the use of religious rituals, songs, programs, and strategies of action, neither black churches nor Catholic parishes were able to cultivate significant conciliatory spaces between the two populations. Yet, an argument can be made that, particularly for Irish immigrants, these same cultural beliefs and practices may have undermined intergroup alliances and support. Despite commonalities, the distinctiveness of their exilic experiences meant the overall purposes and effects of religion were nuanced. Just as returning to Africa for African Americans (and Ireland for some Irish immigrants) became a remote memory, the reality of forging mobility in the United States. loomed large, and was shaped by interactions with native Whites. For the Irish, assimilation and identity formation often meant embracing the twofold tactic of emulating native Whites as well as disassociating from and disavowing minority groups such as African Americans to whom they were compared. The latter strategy often included participating in the oppression of other minority groups (Tully 2010). Moreover, despite their initial isolation, over time, Irish Catholics had more inclusionary experiences based on racial privilege. Thus, the exilic moniker could be more easily negotiated for Irish immigrants such that actions like participating in World War II meant growing acceptance for them, but:

The war did not affect the…views of most Americans of African Americans at all. But for Irish Americans, at least, the homogenizing effects of the war, their active participation in it, and their strident anti-Communist stance after it allowed them to achieve a level of acceptance within the predominant culture that was simply not possible before. (Tully 2010:138)

History further illustrates that strategies of action associated with church life provided intragroup resilience for both populations, yet racism outside church walls fostered intergroup conflict. Competition for jobs and neighborhood spaces as well as jockeying for group position relative to native Whites was known to erupt in verbal abuse, minstrel caricatures, and street violence against African Americans (McCaffrey 1997; Roediger 2005, 2007). According to the former scholar:

Irish workers resented free Black labor competition…. but much Irish Catholic antagonism to Blacks was based on sheer bigotry. Since Anglo Protestants considered them a human subgroup, Irish Catholics got an ego lift by feeling and acting superior to another despised group. (P. 73)

Although scholars describe this general tendency, such interactions between similarly oppressed groups provide a sobering illustration of the potentially pernicious effects of unchecked fear and the desire to belong (Blumer 1958; Goffman 1963). It also illustrates the dominance structural forces such as racism, capitalism, and nativism can have over other influential social forces such as religion. Yet, isolated instances of reconciliation were apparent, such as activist efforts by Irish community leader Daniel O’Connell from New York who believed that “the Irish historical experience should endow them with a natural empathy for Blacks and persuade them to join the abolitionists cause” (McCaffrey 1997:143). Just as an exilic motif fostered intragroup uplift and identity formation, it may have also fostered segregation such that similarly strained minority groups often considered each other foreigners. In turn, broader, more potentially beneficial cross-racial, cross-cultural programs, events, and alliances were subverted (Swidler 1986, 1995).

Conclusion

The dangers of overgeneralizing, condensing complex racial experiences to thumbnail descriptions, or elevating one form of oppression over another can undermine the possible benefits of performing comparative research. I have attempted to avoid reductionism and tautological traps to provide a comparative profile of Irish immigrants and African Americans during historic periods as well as the mediating effects of religion. According to these results, despite dramatically different histories based on factors such as race, class, and immigration dynamics, three broad themes are apparent across the exilic experiences of Irish immigrants and African Americans evident in expressions in religious songs, organized church programs to combat inequality, and theological usage. These results will hopefully be a precursor for future studies. I posit that religious cultural tools emerged from contested spaces including exilic themes in songs, self-help programs, and appropriation of Liberation Theology to help both groups negotiate challenging spaces and remain adaptive and resilient despite the odds.

Exilic groups may have more in common than not; yet, realizing this reality has often proved difficult (West 1993). As illustrated by Cultural Theory, these religious cultural tools helped create similar strategies of action among both groups to withstand persecution and challenge long-standing negative norms and practices in the broader society (Swidler 1986, 1995, 2001). Furthermore, both groups relied on such cultural tools to forge a more humane existence in diasporic spaces that were not always welcoming. Findings also illumine how the same religious cultural tools varied based on factors such as voluntary or involuntary immigrant experiences and interactions with native Whites. Furthermore, a hierarchy of interracial domination prevented intergroup alliances and, over time, often pitted one group against the other. Moreover, group tendencies to rely on familiar cultural tools and capacities were evident as an “us versus them” stance common during troubled times (Swidler 1986, 1995), emerged to the detriment of community building.

This analysis has only broached the subject of exilic themes and religious commonalities for African Americans and Irish immigrants. A more detailed discussion of intragroup diversity is warranted (i.e., class-based differences for African American Christians and differences among Irish immigrants based on migration period). Such work is needed to better understand historic interactions among the two groups and their continued influence on the global religious community. This study does not adequately illumine the complicated dynamics that enabled the Black Church to create a unique niche among African Americans and for similar experiences to occur for their Irish counterparts who embraced Catholicism. Moreover, it may be the case the economic and labor force considerations provide a stronger impetus for cross-racial solidarity than theological or religious factors. For example, history describes efforts to unionize across the racial divide by groups such as the Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIOs) in the early to mid-twentieth century. Yet, even these attempts were short lived and could not squelch white antagonism of black workers, reluctance to confront southern Jim Crowism, or later, make inroads to combat workplace sexism (Griffith 1988; Lipsitz 1994; Zieger 1995).¹⁹ However, these findings bode well for continued studies on the ability of religion to respond to spiritual and temporal challenges of oppressed groups. In contrast, they also provide a sobering testimony of ways in which negative structural forces and intergroup stereotypes, fears, cultural chasms, and desires for mobility can undermine the potentially conciliatory, community-building effects of religious cultural tools.

Footnotes

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Notes

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