The Role of Religion and Racial Violence in America’s Lynching Era: How black pastors resisted Jim Crow and white pastors incited racial violence.
Between 1883 and 1941, white lynch mobs in the United States murdered at least 4,467 individuals. Their methods of execution—hanging, burning, dismembering, and other brutal acts—were horrifyingly public and calculated to instill fear. While the violence was widespread, it was far from indiscriminate. Approximately 3,300 of the victims were Black, with the remainder being white, Mexican, Native American, Chinese, or Japanese. These figures, compiled by sociologists Charles Seguin and David Rigby based on verifiable newspaper reports, represent only a minimum estimate. The true human toll of racial lynching may never be fully known.
Southern apologists often claimed that lynching was a form of “popular justice,” targeting Black men accused of raping white women. However, investigative journalists like Ida B. Wells and sociologists such as Monroe Work exposed this narrative as a smokescreen. Their research revealed that only 20% to 25% of lynching victims were alleged rapists. Women and even children were among the victims, and many Black individuals were lynched for minor or fabricated offenses—such as looking at a white woman or being related to someone accused of a crime.
Lynching was not primarily about punishing specific crimes but about enforcing racial hierarchy. Black victims were often socially marginalized individuals—agricultural workers, laborers, or unemployed men—whose deaths served as a brutal form of social control. By targeting those with few societal protections and little economic or political influence, lynch mobs reinforced white supremacy while striking terror into Black communities. Public displays of violence sent a chilling message: any perceived challenge to the racial caste system could result in death.
Religion was no barrier to the brutality of lynch mobs. White preachers in the Reconstruction-era South often played an active role in inciting racial violence. Some joined the Ku Klux Klan, while others used their pulpits to justify or encourage lynching. For example, Reverend Robert A. Elwood of Olivet Presbyterian Church in Delaware used his position to advocate for mob violence in 1903. During the trial of George White, a Black farm laborer accused of raping and killing a young white woman, Elwood urged the jury to deliver a swift guilty verdict—or risk a lynching. He even cited biblical scripture (1 Corinthians 5:13) to justify his call for extrajudicial violence. The next day, George White was dragged from jail and burned alive before a crowd of 2,000.
1 Corinthians 5:13 is a Bible verse that states: “God will judge those outside. ‘Expel the wicked person from among you.'”
Not all religious leaders condoned such atrocities. Some white pastors denounced racial terror, though their voices were often drowned out by the louder calls for violence. Meanwhile, many Black pastors courageously resisted lynching through sermons, writings, and activism, despite the personal risk involved.
Black ministers were rarely direct targets of lynching, but they faced significant danger if they spoke out against racial violence. Reverend I.T. Burgess of Florida was hanged in 1894 after being accused of planning a revolt. That same year, Reverend Lucius Turner in Georgia was shot for allegedly writing an insulting note to a white woman. In another case documented by Ida B. Wells, Reverend King of Texas was beaten and forced out of town for condemning the lynching of Henry Smith, a Black handyman accused of a heinous crime.
Despite these dangers, many Black pastors used their platforms to challenge racial violence and advocate for justice. Washington, D.C., pastor Francis Grimke preached about the need for anti-racist education to dismantle the narratives that fueled lynching. Charles Price Jones, founder of the Church of God (Holiness) in Mississippi, wrote poetry celebrating African heritage, while Texas pastor Sutton Griggs authored novels that doubled as political critiques. These leaders also published articles in denominational newspapers, calling attention to the horrors of lynching and rallying their communities against oppression.
The divergent roles played by religious leaders during this period highlight the complexity of religion’s relationship with racial violence. While some white pastors used their influence to incite mob action, others condemned such acts and called for justice. On June 21, 1903, Reverend Elwood’s inflammatory sermon contributed directly to George White’s gruesome death. In contrast, Black pastor Montrose W. Thornton responded with a sermon urging self-defense: “Die in your tracks, perhaps drinking the blood of your pursuer,” he told his congregation in Wilmington after White’s lynching.
Religion was no barrier to the brutality of lynch mobs. White preachers in the Reconstruction-era South often played an active role in inciting racial violence. Some joined the Ku Klux Klan, while others used their pulpits to justify or encourage lynching.
Both sermons sparked national outrage. Editorials criticized Elwood for inciting mob violence and Thornton for advocating armed resistance, arguing that both men had degraded the sanctity of the pulpit. Yet these critiques overlooked the vastly unequal contexts in which the two pastors spoke—one perpetuating systemic violence and the other resisting it. The era of racial lynching in America reveals how deeply intertwined religion and racial violence could be. While some white pastors weaponized their faith to justify terror, Black pastors often stood on the front lines of resistance, using their voices to challenge injustice despite immense personal risk. Their courage underscores the enduring struggle against racial violence and the critical role that moral leadership can play in confronting systemic oppression.
As scholars continue to uncover the stories of lynching victims through historical records and census data, it is essential to remember both the atrocities committed and the resilience of those who fought against them. The legacy of this dark chapter in American history serves as a stark reminder of the consequences of unchecked hatred—and the power of individuals to resist it through faith, words, and action.