Sociology

A Cross and a Hood: The KKK's Christian Nationalistic Identity

Abstract

The KKK cloaked racial hatred into the Christian Nationalistic identity, embedding itself into churches and communities, which proves that faith's language can be weaponized to make hatred feel holy.

Let me say first, I believe in Jesus Christ enough to try to follow his teachings found in the four gospels.

Most people picture the Ku Klux Klan as a band of violent racists lurking on the fringes of society. But it doesn't explain how the Klan recruited millions of members, or how it operated in the open in towns across America for decades. The answer has a lot to do with many churches looking the other way.

Klan members did not see themselves as criminals. They saw themselves as Christian Nationalists. That distinction mattered because it was the recruitment language and how long the organization was tolerated.

The Klan's claim of a religiously proclaimed association was brazen. The burning cross is a known key component of the Klan's symbology, and it was not framed as an act of intimidation by its members. According to David Pietrusza, in the 1920s, the Ku Klux Klan referred to their ceremonies as "cross lighting," claiming it symbolized bringing the light of Christ into darkness. Local chapters even had a chaplain known as the "Kludd," who led prayers at meetings. The Klan published its own hymnals. It rewrote the Lord's Prayer into the Klan language. Plus, it treated the Bible as part of its mission. None of this felt like a contradiction to its members. It felt like worship.

During the 1920s, the Klan reached peak membership. Membership hit somewhere between four and six million people, and this wasn't just in the Southern United States. Indiana, Ohio, and Colorado had huge Klan presences. Recruiters, called "Kleagles," specifically targeted churches because that's where they could find the most people at once. Even ministers joined the KKK. Sometimes, most congregations joined. According to a report from History.com, events in the 1920s sometimes saw groups of people in Klan robes participating in religious ceremonies, such as a mass baptism where they surrounded children and their parents as they approached church leaders.

What made this possible was the story the Klan told about itself. According to Klan literature, Catholics, Jewish people, and Black Americans were enemies of a "Christian America." White Protestants, the Klan claimed, were the rightful heirs of the country and were chosen by God to keep it pure. To join the Klan, in this telling, wasn't joining a hate group. It was answering a calling to preserve the National and Christian identity of the USA.

None of that was true Christianity. The actual teachings of Christianity are to love your neighbor, care for the vulnerable, and treat others as you wish to be treated, which are the opposite of everything the Klan stood for. Plenty of people recognized this at the time. Catholic leaders, Jewish organizations, Black churches, and several Protestant ministers pushed back hard. The NAACP spent years working to expose Klan violence and hold its members accountable. But here's what makes the inconvenient truth: the men burning crosses on Tuesday were often sitting in pews on Sunday and taught Bible studies. They coached youth sports. They ran for local office. They were, by every outward appearance, upstanding members of the community because in many communities, they were the community.

That's the part worth sitting with. The Klan didn't grow by recruiting obvious monsters. It grew by convincing ordinary, churchgoing people that hatred was holy by calling it hard love.

I wonder how many organizations in the USA today claim to represent Christian values but refuse to follow the teachings found in the 4 gospels.