is, on the surface at least, a book of history, the history of a small religious sect-the True Light Church of Christ-- found in North and South Carolina. The story of its founding in 1874 by a man claiming to be the third angel mentioned in Revelation 14, an account of its practices and beliefs-remaining apart from the world, expectations regarding the return of Christ, church Elders who have figured prominently in the church's history, locations of the "societies" (originally seven in number) comprising the church, the split that occurred in 1969 that left the church divided internally , with each faction claiming to be the true church, and the episodes of "disfellowshipping" (excommunication) that occur periodically.
The book is also a work in the sociology of religion, covering a diversity of topics. These include: the consequences of an oral tradition for a religious organization; the technique of "testifying" in a church in which God continues to speak to man; the role that clan-like family structures play in religious groups of this kind; "charisma" and its relationship to the concepts of dead instrument and dispensation of the gospel;the return of Christ as contingency, and adaptations made to the failure of prophecy; and the lower limits of size in a religious elect.
Children of Light is a sort of experimental book within the academic field. The voice of the author is not dominant. The narrative is very largely in the words of the subjects themselves. The questions are not known in advance; the end is not prefigured at the beginning. A personal and subjective line is interwoven in the text also-a pilgrimage that serves to guide the inquiry and provide a framework of meaning.
I didn't know what I was getting into. Foxe's martyrs, e.g., their zeal and devotion, a washing of hands in the flame.
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'Now when the time came that he should be brought to Smithfield, first came to him Mr. Woodrofe, one of the sheriffs, and asked him if he would revoke his abominable doctrine. Rogers answered, 'That which I have preached I will seal with my blood.' 'Then,' quoth Woodrofe, 'thou art an heretic.' 'That shall be known,' quoth Rogers, 'at the day of judgment.' 'Well,' quoth Woodrofe, 'I will never pray for thee.' 'But I will pray for you,' quoth Rogers; and so was brought by the sheriffs towards Smithfield, saying the Miserere by the way, all the people rejoicing at his constancy, with great praises to God for the same. And there in the presence of Mr Rochester, Controller of the Queen's Household, Sir Richard Southwell, both the sheriffs, and a wonderful number of people, he was burned into ashes, washing his hands in the flame as he was burning.' [Foxe's Book of Martyrs, G.A.Williamson, ed. Little Brown, 1965]
It was the winter of 87. I was teaching at Livingstone College in Salisbury, North Carolina, and working on a book about "utopian" communities in America--the Shakers, Oneida, Harmony and New Harmony, etc. The True Light Church was in the news at the time and I thought it might be somehow related to the study of small, isolated communities refraining from intercourse with the world. And so I introduced myself to them in the old Trailways bus station in Charlotte, across the street from the Federal Courthouse, asking where they had come from and where they were going.
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'I, Earl A. Carriker, of AGR Nance Road, Monroe, North Carolina, present this information for the benefit of family members or anyone who may be interested. I was born in Charlotte, North Carolina, November 12, 1905. I can remember things that happened when I was two years old. We couldn't make it out to Shiloh. That was too far. We had church meetings at our house on Worthington Avenue and other church members' houses in Charlotte. We could ride the streetcar anywhere in town for 5 cents, and that's the way we traveled to church at the various houses. Brother William Mullis had a grocery store built on to his house. Brother Jonas Courtney and Grandpa Jesse Huntley and Sister Ada Wallace's father's house were some of the places we met. This was from 1905 to about 1910 or 1912. We could have cows in Charlotte back then. We had running water and a bathtub, but we had outdoor toilets. My job before we left Charlotte was to stake the cow out. This was before I was seven years old.' [Fed.court document, U.S. v. True Light Ch., 1985]
It was not until later that I met Earl Carriker and got his story from documents on file in the Federal courthouse, documents submitted in connection with the court case. It s a nice story of the people who grew up in rural Union County, in that part of North Carolina surrounding Charlotte, even down into South Carolina.
Charlotte is a city of the new South, a shining city, still a holy city, I guess, if you accept the word of its residents, though less and less a New Jerusalem unless the New Jerusalem is to be a money town. Its new buildings are filled with new bankers and new brokers and young time sellers of all kinds from Chapel Hill and Wake Forest and Duke and Davidson. The city's skyline is a montage of recent styles in American architecture, so rapidly has it grown. At the intersection of Trade and Tryon streets, where Polk's Drugstore used to be, is Pelli's tall building tapered like a pencil, sixty stories high. From Elmwood Cemetery the tower is visible, a startling omen, its crown lighted at night, at times hidden in the clouds, giving off a fierce light in its concealment whan that April with his showres soote the droughte of March hath perced to the roote. Randolph Scott is buried there, lying beneath a Chinese fir tree. On one side of the cemetery are the double tracks of the old Southern Railroad (now the Norfolk Southern). In the early morning hours, thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, the Crescent heading for New Orleans in one direction, New York in the other, the holy lisful martyr for to seeke.
Carriker: 'Before we moved from Charlotte, Grandpa Henry Wilson Carriker died when I was about six years old. He lived in the old home place that stood right over there at the corner of Carriker Road and AGR Nance Road. We came dowwn to the funeral and they put him in the casket here at the house and his seven sons carried the body to Rocky River True Light Church about a mile away. The rest of the family walked or rode a buggy behind the hand-carried coffin.'
We ve got to be clear, though. Charlotte is still a religious city--as well as a progressive, money-minded city. The Protestant ethic and the spirit of capitalism together again. It is hard to tell where one leaves off and the other begins in the hometown of Billy Graham and Hugh McColl.
So in Southwerk, as it were, at the Tabard I lay, redy to wenden on my pilgrimage with that compaignye of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle. By "aventure," I mean reading about them in the paper and going over to the bus station to check in, see what kind of people they were.
A Distant Capital
On December 3, 1992, the U.S. Department of Labor sued the Shiloh True Light Church of Christ, its Elder, and one of its members for violation of the child labor laws. The civil lawsuit, filed in U.S. District Court in Charlotte, sought a court order 'to stop the church and Rommie Purser, its elder and minister, from employing minors--including some 9-and 10-year-olds--to perform carpentry, heavy equipment and roofing jobs.'
Carriker: 'The next year, 1913, we moved here and lived with Grandma, who was now a widow. My daddy, C.A. Carriker, bought the 130 acre farm from the family estate. His father, Henry Wilson Carriker, had originally bought the place when Daddy was a small child. Grandpa had a blacksmith shop right over there in front of the little house. Grandpa made wagon wheels and Dad helped him shrink the metal bands over wood spoke wheels when he was young. The steel band was formed in a circle and they welded it together. Then it was heated to make it expand so it could be slipped over the wheel. As it cooled it would shrink and tighten itself, but you had to be careful not to set it on fire with the hot metal. They made and repaired wagon wheels, shod horses, and made tools and equipment. I worked in the blacksmith shop when I was seven. Daddy taught me how to operate the bellows and do small jobs. I was taught how to hitch a mule and how to plow when I was eight.'
