David Mussatt
Re-Embodying the Disembodied:
A Personal Reflection on Critical Pedagogy and
the Use of Anthologies in the Classroom
I believe that teaching has to do with being-in-the-world, and the world is conceived in texts. A great text, be it the Republic or the Bible, raises questions that are answered only in the process of raising them again and again. The recurrence of the questions entails endless presence of the texts. Teaching has to do with letting the texts face the students. I have had real pleasure in helping the students connect the present with the past, showing them how thinking, like life itself, is a temporal act.1
In a recent graduate course, I was asked to construct an undergraduate course in American religious history. Primarily, the professor asked that I consider seriously the most applicable texts for such a course. This assignment presented quite a challenge. Not only did I need to familiarize myself with the vast literature of the field, but also I needed to articulate my pedagogy so that I could have some criteria for choosing texts most applicable to my teaching style. In addition, I needed to figure out which texts would help students most effectively cross the border between the cultural norms by which they understand their world and the critical way academics try to alter those norms.
During my search of potential texts, I noticed that a large portion of the current books being published that deal with various aspects of American religious history were anthologies, or books composed of essays that are compiled by an editor. For example, of the texts in the graduate course syllabus, seven out of eight published after 1995 were anthologies. Of course, throughout the course of the semester, my fellow classmates and I discussed some of the pros and cons of anthologies, but little was settled. In this essay, I will reflect further on these pros and cons and on whether anthologies are useful for entry level undergraduate courses.
This essay may thus be called a speculative reflection because as a graduate student, I have not designed a course that uses the texts I am analyzing in this reflection. However, I have gone through the mental process of designing such a course. Therefore, in this essay, I will attempt to accomplish three goals related to this reflective process.
First, I wish to lay out my philosophy toward teaching undergraduates. This philosophy is derived, although not exclusively, from the work on pedagogy by bell hooks and Paulo Freire. I will summarize their development of a liberartory pedagogy and discuss why it needs to be analyzed and deepened further. Second, I will place an anthology that claims to be an "entry point" text into this pedagogical context. This anthology, African-American Religion: Interpretive Essays in History and Culture, is a collection of "salient essays" by various authors from various periods. I hope to elucidate some of the benefits and faults of using such an anthology in an introductory course. Third, I will compare African-American Religion, edited by Timothy E. Fulop and Albert J. Raboteau, to A Fire in the Bones: Reflections on African-American Religious History, an anthology composed of essays by a single author, Albert J. Raboteau. Although still an anthology, A Fire in the Bones differs greatly from African-American Religion in style, substance, and, I will argue, pedagogical usefulness. It is my hope that this comparison will contribute to an understanding of my pedagogy and the field of African-American religion.
Critical and Engaged Pedagogy
In 1970, the Brazilian scholar Paulo Freire published a comprehensive account of his methodology of teaching the oppressed poor people throughout the North East of Brazil. This book, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, has become the cornerstone from which critical pedagogy has been built. It is a pedagogy that encourages students to break out of what Freire calls the "culture of silence," which is the culture developed by the dominant to keep the people oppressed. His objective is to break the cycle of education as a tool of the dominant classes to legitimize and perpetuate their dominance. He offers a critical pedagogy that works toward fostering liberatory practices to replace this old model of pedagogy.
Freire argues that the goal of education must be to break this cycle of oppression by empowering students to learn their own history and to transform their society (12). To accomplish this goal, Freire does not begin thinking about teaching from the standpoint of the instructor and his or her knowledge of the course material. Rather, Freire begins his pedagogy from the standpoint of the student. Instead of seeing students as "empty vessels" who need to be filled with the instructor’s knowledge, as is the case in the "banking" concept of education, Freire views students as coming to the classroom already full of vital information that can be shared with the instructor through dialogue. From this viewpoint, Freire argues, "Education must begin with the solution of the teacher-student contradiction, by reconciling the poles of the contradiction so that both are simultaneously teachers and students" (53). Freire argues that the classroom can become replete with student-teachers through the abandonment of the traditional "banking" concept of education and the application of problem-posing education, where problems are posed in class and students and teachers engage in dialogue about them. This concept of education breaks from the hierarchical idea of education and fosters self-reflective dialogue between students and teachers so that both become "critical co-investigators" (62).
In this investigation process, history becomes vital. However, the history named here is not a history passed down to students, but discovered by students in dialogue with each other and their teachers. It is a process of seeing oneself as an active Subject in history, and not the object of history. To become a Subject of history, reflection and action, or "praxis," is necessary. As Freire reiterates, "Problem-posing education bases itself on creativity and stimulates true reflection and action upon reality . . . In sum: banking theory and practice, as immobilizing and fixating forces, fail to acknowledge men and women as historical beings; problem-posing theory and practice take the people’s historicity as their starting point" (65). In this way, the cycle of oppression may then be broken.
In Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom, bell hooks builds upon Freire’s critical pedagogy to construct what she terms "engaged pedagogy." She argues that engaged pedagogy is more demanding of educators because it insists that "teachers be actively committed to a process of self-actualization that promotes their own well-being if they are to teach in a manner that empowers students" (15). In other words, like Freire, hooks’ goals are the empowerment of students and an education that leads to the practice of freedom, but she begins her pedagogy with the paradigm of excitement. To generate excitement, the teacher must foster a community of learners who truly contribute to the class and who are acknowledged. She writes, "As a classroom community, our capacity to generate excitement is deeply affected by our interest in one another, in hearing one another’s voices, in recognizing one another’s presence" (8). Like Freire, hooks argues that the classroom cannot be made up of an instructor and students, but of student-instructors only. The hierarchical structure must be broken so that students and teachers can begin dialogue on common ground.
In constructing a course based on the critical and engaged pedagogy of Freire and hooks, the selection of texts becomes complex. However, Freire and hooks do not mention the selection of texts because of their emphasis on teacher-student relations. Nevertheless, texts are a vital component of a course and teaching a class, and it is necessary to critique texts based on criteria derived from critical and engaged pedagogy. For example, if we understand a class reading assignment as taking the place of the instructor outside of the classroom, then we can try to critique a book’s usefulness based on its ability to be a "student-instructor," as the teacher tries to be in the liberatory classroom. Applying this criterion to a text, we must first ask if a text begins from a position that is in accord with the knowledge of the students. To return to my case of creating an introductory course on American religion, it would be important that I select a text that assumes the students have no previous understanding of the subject. However, it must not assume that the student has no knowledge. This point becomes difficult because, unlike an instructor, a text cannot address the vast realm of experiences that students bring to a classroom. It only addresses a general audience. For instance, an introductory book to American religion will usually assume that the students reading the book come to the class with a minimal understanding of all religions. The knowledge that particular students have based on factors of race, class, sex, and religion cannot be taken fully into consideration by a text. Therefore, it is important that a book states who the assumed audience is, and what other assumptions about that audience’s knowledge have been made.
The second criterion that we can attempt to apply to a text deals with self-actualization. Just as bell hooks argues that teachers need to be embodied and self-actualized, texts will be most successful in a liberatory classroom if they too are premised on the same principle of self-actualization. In other words, the most useful texts are those where the authors are present through personal reflection in the text. When the author places his or herself in the text, the book does not simply tell information to the reader. Rather, empathy can begin to develop between author and reader. A text that includes personal reflection by the author breaks down the disembodied "objectiveness" that stymies critique and problem-posing. Personal reflection by the author of a text allows readers a greater chance of empathizing with the author and comparing the author’s position to their own. This empathy is required for dialogue that will foster conscientization, or a raised awareness of suffering and oppression.
The two criteria presented above are very limited and not the only criteria to be considered when deciding on course texts. However, they are a starting point from which we can proceed to look at texts that are being written now and being marketed as "introductory." They will allow us also to reflect on how useful a particular text may be in a liberatory classroom.
Anthologies and Critical Pedagogy
Given the brief criteria for choosing texts for a "problem-posing" and "excited" class, we can now look at specific texts to include in a course syllabus. As mentioned earlier, the impetus for the reflection on pedagogy was to understand the trend toward scholars producing anthologies as introductory texts, in lieu of synoptic histories. To do so, we must look more closely at anthologies and synoptic histories to analyze their relationship to critical pedagogy.
From one standpoint, anthologies seem like a great idea. I would argue that partly as a result of the postmodern impulse to have people of particular cultures, races, religions, etc., speak for themselves, scholars have avoided trying to write synoptic histories. To elude problems associated with having one author attempt to write about areas that he or she has limited knowledge, anthologies allow an editor to compile essays by scholars who are writing within their area of expertise or experience, and to let people of a particular culture write about themselves. Therefore, some may argue that an anthology would be more accurate than a synoptic history.
Proponents of synoptic histories may argue that the continuous narrative a synoptic history provides is vital to learning. In theory, a synoptic history has a "story-line" that is followed throughout the text. This theme is introduced and developed so that the reader has a continuous story from beginning to end. Unlike anthologies, the reader does not have to reposition his or herself before each chapter to understand what the main idea is. Likewise, no previous knowledge is required before each chapter; only the knowledge that was acquired from the last chapter, unlike anthologies where each chapter assumes a slightly different audience.
When analyzing anthologies and synoptic histories in the context of critical, engaged pedagogy, we can see how both styles are suitable. Anthologies enable numerous voices to enter the classroom. With an anthology, it is possible that the dialogue can be expanded to accommodate the various positions of each author or the various themes of each chapter. However, this would only occur if the authors of the essays are self-reflective and make themselves "present" in the text. Essays that are written by authors who are not self-reflective would fall into the banking concept of education where the reader is told information and not encouraged to critically think about it.
Synoptic histories, on the other hand, may be even more useful in introductory courses. Synoptic histories, although problematic to the postmodern impulse in that they include only one voice and one story-line, are, I propose, better for undergraduates who are being exposed to an area for the first time. There is coherence, orderliness, and accessibility. It may be that the best reason to use a synoptic history is that it is not an anthology.2 It is difficult for anyone to learn something new when it is presented in a fragmented fashion, like an anthology. Learning takes place by making connections between what we know and new information. When reading anthologies, it is quite difficult to make connections between the essays because they are not written to be linked together and are written with different agendas. In addition, anthologies often assume we know more than we do. Thus, they are useful for scholars in the field and as supplemental material for neophytes, but are difficult when used exclusively in an introductory setting.
Case Study of African-American Religion
Returning to my assignment of creating an introductory course in American religion, I want to discuss two books on African-American religion and, using critical pedagogy as my foundation. One anthology that I will use as a case study in this paper is African-American Religion: Interpretive Essays in History and Culture, edited by Timothy E. Fulop and Albert J. Raboteau. There are two main reasons why I considered this text for my syllabus. First, as most of the class agreed, African-American Religion is one of the better anthologies that we read.3 This text is better than most anthologies in American religious history because it does not deal with "American religion," in general. Rather, it has a narrower subject area and is therefore more inclusive. This narrowing down of subject allowed the editors to include, for the most part, articles which had a related theme: the agency or empowerment of African-Americans.
To support how this theme is developed, I will outline the text briefly. David Wills begins this theme in the first essay of the text by examining how American religious history can be written by using the encounter between Black and White as its paradigm. The theme then continues throughout the text. For example, Raboteau’s own essay on slaves’ conversion to Christianity and Will B. Gravely’s essay on the making of African-American churches stress the agency of African-Americans in their religious lives and their encounters with an oppressive society. In addition, Carol V.R. George looks at the work of justice done by lower-class clergy in the Civil Rights Movement; Clayborne Carson analyzes how the intellectual encounter of African-American and European-American theology was reconciled by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.; and Bruce Jackson argues that conjure magic has provided agency to practitioners and their "patients" throughout African-American history. These articles and many others in the text do an excellent job of displaying the active role African-Americans have taken in their religious history. In this way, many of the articles included in this anthology are connected. This, in my opinion, is a useful accomplishment for an anthology compiled of previously published essays.
The second reason why I selected this text is that the editors state that their book is to be used as an "up-to-date entry point into the field" (2). However, the editors of African-American Religion do not state that their text should be used exclusively as an introductory text. They also intended the book to "point to new avenues of investigation and new interpretive directions" for scholars in the field (2). These two different intentions imply that the text is meant for two different audiences. However, since one intent is for this text to be used specifically as introductory, I am using it as an example in this essay.
On the other hand, as outlined earlier, the reasons why anthologies are not effective as primary entry-points into the field are also obvious in African-American Religion. First, the text is unhelpful to the neophyte because a certain amount of knowledge is necessary to understand many of the essays. For example, the David Wills’ article on using the encounter of Black and White as the paradigm for doing American religious history is only truly understood and appreciated if one is familiar with the existing historiography of American religion. The authors of the essays did not write their essays with the intent of them being "entry-points." In addition, the authors of the essays were writing scholarly pieces that were placed in an academic dialogue. Therefore, the embodiment or author’s presence necessary for a text to be truly useful in the liberatory classroom is missing from most of these essays. The essays were written for various audiences and various purposes. Thus, it can be argued that African-American Religion is problematic to use in an introductory course.
Another reason why this text may not be effective is that many areas of African-American religion are not included. This is because, as Fulop and Raboteau point out in their introduction, the work on these areas is not "out there" yet. This is a considerable problem with anthologies of this type; they are limited to articles that were previously published.4<,sup> Because the current scholarship on African-American religion has dealt mostly with Protestant Christianity, essays on this subject dominate the Reader. Except for one article by C. Eric Lincoln on the Nation of Islam, the article on conjure magic by Bruce Jackson, and an article on Ogou in Haiti by Karen McCarthy Brown, all the articles are within the Protestant realm. In addition, one must look hard to find references to Black theology or the names of James Cone and Gayraud Wilmore, and there is no mention of the Million Man March. I believe an "up-to-date" history text needs to cover these topics and many more because these are events and ideas that are constantly referred to in the field now. A student must learn of these specifics in an introductory course in order to offer critiques and analyses later.
Therefore, largely because of the nature of an anthology, I do not feel that African-American Religion is an effective entry-point into the field. I do believe that a synoptic history may be more useful for students unfamiliar with the subject. If I were teaching a course on American religion and needed an "entry-point" text to African-American religion, I would be much more inclined to use older texts on African religions, such as African Religions and Philosophy by John Mbiti, and on American religious history, a text such as America: Religions and Religion by Catherine Albanese. Albeit these texts have the problems of synoptic narratives that were previously discussed, they allow students to understand more easily the contexts of African-American religion and professors to spend less time lecturing in class. The class can more easily dialogue with these texts because the connections can be more readily made. African-American Religion, or at least particular essays within it, could be used as a supplement for class discussion topics, but I would not use it as the entry-point for a class.
Interestingly, Fulop and Raboteau readily admit that a synoptic history would be a better alternative than the anthology they offer. The main theme of their introduction is that a synoptic history of African-American religion needs to be written. Fulop and Raboteau state that scholarly treatment of the field of African-American religious history did not "begin" (in the form of publications for a broad audience) until W.E.B. DuBois wrote Souls of Black Folk in 1903. Even with DuBois’ breakthrough, it was not until the 1960's and 1970's that "the study of the religious experience of African Americans began to blossom and gain its rightful place in scholarship" (Fulop and Raboteau, 1). At the same time, as I have argued, postmodern thinking, which finally allowed voices from other places to be raised, was spreading within academic ideology. The same postmodern impulse debunked the grand narratives of American religious history and questioned whether or not they should even exist. Therefore, it can be argued that partly because of the simultaneous "entrance" of African American scholarship and postmodernity in the academy, a synoptic history of the African American religious experience has never been done. This has made entry into the field difficult for students.
Case Study of A Fire in the Bones
The entire discussion about anthologies and synoptic histories may not be completely hopeless. In going through the literature to see which book about African-American religion should go in my introductory course, I came across another work edited by Albert J. Raboteau, A Fire in the Bones: Reflections on African-American Religious History. It too is an anthology, but this anthology is compiled of essays written by Raboteau himself. In this collection, I believe I found an anthology that is conducive to critical pedagogy and to engaged teaching in an introductory American religion course. The author is present in all of the essays, for the essays present problems to the reader who must then reflect on these problems. The text provides an historical foundation that is unified around common themes, and it is easy to follow.
Raboteau comes through in this text as self-actualized. For example, the anthology begins with his reflection of being in Paris as a child in an all-white Catholic choir and being asked to sing a "Negro spiritual" by a French priest. Raboteau reflects on his feelings about this inquiry,
I was troubled by his request, my uneasiness enhanced by a sense that spirituals belonged, not to our Roman Catholic choir’s public repertoire, but to a more private and meditative place, reflecting my people’s distinctive identity, an identity that I already felt uncomfortable about exposing so far from home and family. I had never before felt so American and so un-American at the same time (ix-x).
Again at the end of this anthology, Raboteau reflects on the experience of his youth and how it shaped his scholarship. He spoke of finding a slave narrative in graduate school that described the experience inside the slave churches as "a fire in the bones" where sorrow and joy intermingled and converged. Raboteau reflected on this contradiction, "The paradox resonated within me, stirring memories of forgotten ancestors whose stories I needed to learn, stories with important lessons not only for me, but for others as well" (184). These exemplify how Raboteau is present throughout this "scattered" anthology. By positioning himself within the essays, Raboteau lets the reader not only know him better, but also lets the reader develop empathy. When a person has empathy, dialogue is improved and the process of liberation as taught by Freire and hooks is begun.
Against the backdrop of these very personal self-reflections, Raboteau presents a number of previously published articles about the history of Black Christianity in the United States. More limited in scope that African-American Religion, A Fire in the Bones is not presented as an introduction to the field of African-American religion. Rather, "The essays collected in this book represent the result of [Raboteau’s] attempts to understand the religious history of black Americans and to ascertain what that particular history means for the nation as a whole" (x). To accomplish this goal, Raboteau presents rich essays that are the grounding for classroom problem-posing and dialogue. For example, in the prologue to the anthology, Raboteau challenges the new student of American religious history to rethink the history of Black Americans that they might have been taught by hegemonic culture.
Black Americans, if historians discussed them at all, figured prominently only in the story of slavery and in the topic of race relations. In both cases, they appeared not as actors in the national drama but as victims or problems. As an oppressed minority, they represented an unfortunate but minor exception to the main plot of American history: the gradual expansion of democracy to include all citizens . . . We were, so to speak, invisible (5).
In this example, we can see the value of the text to critical pedagogy. Raboteau poses a problem for the reader. He presents the normalized way of understanding history in a way that allows the reader to reflect on that norm. In so doing, the reader’s faith in history is challenged. Instead of "receiving" history, Raboteau challenges the reader to be empathetic to the lives and cultures of those who are the subject of that history. He challenges the reader to be empathetic by being a self-actualized author who presents himself and his faith, embodied as one in the text. As he writes in concluding the prologue, "And yet, I, as historian and believer, cannot but hope that our history is touched by the providence of God" (14). Such a sentence is blasphemous to many historians, but, as I explained, it is necessary for engaged teaching.
As the foremost scholar of slave religion in the United States, Raboteau includes essays that have the experience of life in slavery at their core. The first part of the text, "In Search of the Promised Land: African-American Religion and American Destiny," contains three essays that deal with the way Africans experienced, resisted, and accommodated life in America as slaves. The second part, "Under Their Own Vine and Fig Tree: The Black Church," discusses autonomous and public Black churches in America, in particular Richard Allen’s African Methodist Episcopal Church and Black Catholicism, of which Raboteau is a member and expert. Between these two chapters on denominational Black religion, Raboteau includes a chapter on African-American religious community experience. With this chapter, the reader is presented not only with African-American religion as institutional structure, but also as lived experience. The third section, "The Performed Word: Religious Practice," is dedicated to this lived experience of religion. With two chapters on the experience of preaching and conversion in the Black Church, this final section provides a detailed look at the "feel" of African-American Christianity from particular standpoints. By focusing on the religious experience of the practitioners of a tradition, Raboteau continues to allow empathy to build and problems to be presented in a classroom setting. This is particularly true in light of the self-reflective prologue and epilogue where problems are shared by him. The historical information the chapters provide contributes to a deeper understanding of these problems. Therefore, despite its narrow scope, A Fire in the Bones is an excellent text to introduce students to African-American religion.
Because A Fire in the Bones is an anthology of the works of one author, it re-embodies what is in presentation disembodied. The self-reflective prologue and epilogue written by Raboteau provides important context for the disparate essays that make up the text. It combines the unified theme and coherence of a synoptic history with essays in which the author is an intimate "insider" and present participant. It undoubtedly could benefit from the addition of essays that reveal the diversity of African-American Christianity and religion. However, what it includes can be incorporated easily into the liberatory classroom, and its limitations can be fodder for further classroom dialogue.
Works Cited
- Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Trans. Myra Bergman Ramos. New York: Continuum, 1970, 1993.
- Fulop, Timothy E., and Albert J. Raboteau. African-American Religion: Interpretive Essays in History and Culture. New York and London: Routledge, 1997.
- hooks, bell. Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. New York and London, Routledge, 1994.
- Raboteau, Albert J. A Fire in the Bones: Reflections on African-American Religious History. Boston: Beacon P, 1995.
Notes
- 1.This quote was taken from a letter by Bibhuti S. Yadav, regarding the receipt of a Temple University distinguished teaching award, to the chair of the religion department, February 10, 1992. It was read at the department of religion memorial service for Dr. Yadav, November 10, 1999.
- 2. Of course, this postmodern impulse of cultivating diverse voices beyond the scholarly norms has been a refreshing and stimulating trend in academia. I do not wish that any critique I may make of anthologies to imply that I yearn to return to the days when white males spoke for all people throughout the world. In addition, I do not want to imply that anthologies should include only authors who embody the culture about which they write.
- 3. The anthologies which the professor, Dr. Robert Schneider, included in this course were Timothy Fulop and Albert Raboteau, eds., African-American Religion: Interpretive Essays in History and Culture (Routledge, 1996), David G. Hackett, ed., Religion and American Culture: A Reader (Routledge, 1995), Jon Butler and Harry S. Stout, eds., Religion and American History: A Reader (Oxford, 1998), Thomas Tweed, ed., Retelling U.S. Religious History (California, 1997), Harry S. Stout and Darryl G. Hart, eds., New Directions in American Religious History (Oxford, 1997), Walter Conser, Jr., and Sumner Twiss, eds., Religious Diversity and American Religious History (Georgia, 1998), and David G. Hall, ed., Lived Religion in America (Princeton, 1997). In addition to these anthologies, Dr. Schneider had us read essays on older narratives, including Sydney E. Ahlstrom, A Religious History of the American People (Yale, 1972), and Winthrop Hudson and John Corrigan, Religion in America (Macmillan, 5th ed., 1992), as well as two narratives: Catherine Albanese, America: Religion and Religions (Wadsworth, 2nd ed., 1990) and Susan Hill Lindley, "You Have Stept Out of Your Place": A History of Women and Religion in America (Westminister John Knox, 1996).
- 4. In the course, Dr. Schneider distinguished between two types of anthologies: readers and conference products. Readers are anthologies composed of previously published articles and/or chapters from texts. In readers, the editor(s) are limited by the work that is "out there" already. African-American Religion is an example. Conference products are anthologies composed of essays submitted to a conference directed by the editor(s). In these anthologies, the editor has more control of the essays included, and themes are potentially much more specific than in readers. I find the conference products more useful as introductory material because of this development of specific themes.
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David Mussatt's area of specialty is social ethics and American religious history, in the Department of Religion at Temple University. He is writing his dissertation on an analysis of the ethics of activism in the Albany Freedom Ride during the Civil Rights Movement.
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