Moments before the end of his life, Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson called out to rally his troops one last time. But something was wrong. The Confederate general wasn’t on the battlefield at all. In reality, he’d been critically wounded by friendly fire eight days earlier. He was bedridden with pneumonia and in a state of delirium.
It goes without saying that medical technology has improved since the time of the American Civil War. But even today, there’s no way to know exactly what a dying brain perceives in its final moments. Regardless, one thing’s for certain: there’s no way Jackson could have known that 160 years after his death, he’d be making his last stand in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
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Originally commissioned in the 1930s, the American Presbyterian History Window inside the East Liberty Presbyterian Church was one of only two known stained glass windows featuring a figural representation of Jackson. The other such window, formerly installed in the Washington National Cathedral, was deconsecrated and removed in 2017.
Although my knowledge of the Civil War is admittedly scant, I do know that Pennsylvania was never part of the Confederacy. So how did Stonewall Jackson end up on a stained glass window in a Northern state? And what was he doing in a church, of all places? While ELPC records fail to specify a reason for Jackson’s inclusion within the American Presbyterian History Window, his presence might be attributable to the so-called Lost Cause mythology.
The Lost Cause mythology was initially conceived as a post-war attempt by white Southerners to recast Confederate actors as heroic Christian soldiers – while conveniently omitting their white supremacist underpinnings. During the early twentieth century, the popularization of Lost Cause ideals saw the widespread construction of monuments to Confederate leaders, including in Northern states (Terrono 166).
While advocacy of Lost Cause ideals may explain Jackson’s initial inclusion within the American Presbyterian History Window, the passage of time has allowed for a critical evaluation of his continued presence at the ELPC. And while Jackson was an ardent Presbyterian in life, he also fought to preserve a racial hierarchy that subjugated black individuals to slavery. Even in death, he continues to be venerated as a white supremacist icon.
Interestingly, ELPC records suggest that Jackson was meant to be excluded from the American Presbyterian History Window during the planning stages: his name had been crossed off of two separate documents using a pencil. Decades later, his name – along with his image – would be crossed off of the window itself using deep blue glass.
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In March 2023, Stonewall Jackson was ousted from Pittsburgh once and for all. Dr. Thomas Morton, faculty at the University of Pittsburgh and member of the ELPC, led the ten-person task force that fought to remove Jackson’s image from the American Presbyterian History Window. Their efforts were successful and, after several delays, the image was removed. The space it once occupied was left blank and filled with translucent blue glass.
My colleagues and I were among the last to see the unaltered window at the ELPC. Located high above the ground in the sanctuary’s east transept, the window was adorned by the images and names of twelve famous Presbyterians. Jackson’s image was small, only measuring around four feet in height. His name was barely legible from the pews below, and the modern viewer likely wouldn’t recognize his Confederate regalia.
Regardless of size or legibility, Jackson’s presence at the ELPC was incongruent with the church’s values. “Stonewall Jackson . . . actively fought to perpetuate slavery in this country. He is revered among white supremacists, and his image and name, in my opinion, had no place in ELPC - a progressive, inclusive, and diverse house of worship,” Morton said.
Not everyone was so resolute – some were opposed to removing Jackson’s image. Predictably, many objections appear to have centered around the expense involved in removing a relatively inconspicuous panel of glass: to remove and replace the panel was slated to cost $9,363. Though some parishioners indicated there might be “better” uses for the money, I’d argue that using the funds in a way that advances the ELPC’s goal of fostering inclusivity seems like a worthy investment.
Less predictably, some were opposed to removing the panel on the basis that doing so would be engaging in cancel culture. I initially judged the notion of canceling a man who’s been dead for 160 years to be absurd. I suppose their concern is approximately equivalent to a more intuitive objection: Isn’t removing the panel just erasing history?
“Our goal was not to hide our history; it was to remove a problematic image,” Morton stated succinctly. Moreover, the task force made the decision not to put a new figure in Jackson’s place precisely to avoid the impression of having erased history. “Many of us feared that if we put a new figure in the window, after a few years people would forget that Stonewall Jackson was there in the first place.”
The lengths that Morton’s task force went through to remove Jackson’s image underscores their absolute commitment to creating an inclusive environment for all worshipers. But it would certainly be troublesome to conceal everything from the past that’s deemed to be problematic or distressing.
I was left with the impression that I’d interrupted a conversation that wasn’t fully finished. Had removing Jackson’s image participated in erasing history? I returned to the window to judge for myself.
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On Palm Sunday, a parade of children marched around the ELPC’s sanctuary, reenacting Jesus’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem. The kids could scarcely contain their excitement, grinning and giggling amongst themselves. Churchgoers waved palm branches in the air as they passed. The joy surrounding me was contagious – I’d momentarily forgotten what I was there to see.
The giggling procession returned to their seats. I looked up at the illuminated window, rolling the waxy leaf of a palm branch between my fingers. What I saw was striking. Light silently filtered into the sanctuary through a luminous blue void.
Far from erasing history, the window’s deep blue glass coaxes onlookers to wonder what used to be in its place. “We wanted the absence of a figure to call attention to that place in the window and to whom was pictured there previously,” Morton said.
At some point in the future, a plaque will be placed that explicitly acknowledges the window’s history, describing when and why the panel of Jackson was removed. The plaque will conclude the unfinished conversation taking place, replacing the missing image with text explaining its absence.
As of this writing, the panel’s final resting place remains unclear – the church has yet to decide where to store the excised glass. What is clear, however, is that the ELPC will no longer tolerate a symbol of white supremacy residing in its sanctuary. Stonewall Jackson’s time in Pittsburgh has come to a close.
Works Cited
Morton, Thomas J. Personal interview. 3 Apr. 2023.
Terrono, Evie. “Great Generals and Christian Soldiers: Commemorations of Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson in the Civil Rights Era.” The Civil War in Art and Memory, edited by Kirk Savage, Yale University Press, 2016, pp. 147-170.