While walking across campus yesterday, I ran into a colleague who asked me where I was going. I told her that I was off to teach a section of US History I (roughly 1492-1876, give or take). She asked me what books I used for the course, and though I started to tell her, stopped me shortly after I uttered "Morgan's Meaning of Independence." As it turned out, she had been a graduate student under Prof. Edmund S. Morgan, who passed away earlier this year at the age of 97. After telling me that she was so happy that I was using one of his books, as well as a few stories about what a wonderful mentor he was, we parted ways, and I started thinking about writing a post about Morgan (as she also told me she was going to a memorial service in his honor this coming weekend) about his influence on me as an historian.
But then the annual "Halloween Controversy" reared its head. As a child, my family always celebrated Halloween. By celebrate, I of course mean wearing costumes, carving pumpkins into Jack-O-Lanterns, and eating candy....and then eating more candy! What my parents didn't confiscate that is. It would be several years after I stopped "trick or treating" that I discovered that my father and I apparently had liked some of the same types of candy for years....but interestingly enough, those had been the ones that had always been confiscated when I was younger! At the same time, we lived in an area where there were many friends and neighbors who did not, often for religious reasons. One neighborhood family, in particular, once referred to it as "celebrating the devil" or some such. That statement aside, we all still played together the next day (and maybe even shared some candy), we just didn't walk around in costume together the night before.
And yet, there it was. All over social media these past few days, people posting pictures of themselves or their kids in costume, talking about parties they had or would attend, but also included in the mix of posts were some about how some friends weren't celebrating Halloween, or had stopped doing so, or who didn't understand why people used Halloween as an excuse to dress a certain way. Now, the point of this post isn't to get into an argument over whether or not Christians should or should not celebrate or take part in Halloween activities (if you want to read something from both sides of that argument you can take a look at this and this). It isn't even to get into the history of All Hallow's Eve, which you can read about here (and while you are at it, remember that the day after Halloween is All Saints Day). Rather, it is ponder ways in which Christians can learn from secular culture even while they engage it.
To do that, I return to Morgan. I am very thankful that a little over two decades ago I decided to take the first half of the US Survey (the very class I talked to my colleague about) as a freshman at Indiana University. Prof. Bernard Sheehan was my first college history professor, and he opened my eyes to what History could be and (and that it might even be a profession). He also introduced me to the work of Gordon Wood and Edmund Morgan (amongst other wonderful historians), and for that I am thankful. Over the years, I think I've read every book Wood and Morgan have written (at least once), and I've also learned more about both men (indeed, I literally bumped into Prof. Wood at a convention, and was so "star struck" that I could only mutter an apology). In the case of Morgan, one of my favorite quotes of his came from an interview in 2006, in which he talked about his conversion to being a "Calvinist atheist."
Those two words aren't often combined together, nor would they make much sense to some either in or outside of the Church. But in Morgan's story, it makes perfect sense. In 1938, after studying under Perry Miller (who shared both his interest in the Puritans as well as his atheism), Morgan found himself in Germany (while doing some post graduate work in Europe), and quite literally just a few feet from Adolph Hitler. It was, while being in the presence of the Nazis, that Morgan suddenly "came face to face with evil" and understood it as such, even before the world knew of such things as the Holocaust or extermination camps, and on another level, the Puritan theology he had studied under Miller suddenly made a great deal of sense. There was evil in the world, and the same people who could accomplish so many good things, were also capable of doing horrible wrongs.
Morgan, the atheist, was also a first rate historian, who probably did more than anyone else (save for perhaps his mentor Miller) to salvage not just the reputation but also the Calvinistic/Reformed theology of the Puritans for future generations. And yet, because he was an atheist, there could be some Christians who would refuse to read him (even, in the case of this historian, Morgan's writings kept me from all sorts of "derange[d] . . . fairy tales" -- to borrow the words of historian Oscar Handlin, written about the work of another practitioner of the historian's craft --along the way.
Professor Morgan may only be "sainted" in the Cathedral of Clio come All Saints Day, but there is every reason to celebrate what he accomplished professionally, and for Christians to find much that is good in his scholarship. Could Christians then, find something redeemable even in Halloween? Maybe. Perhaps it will never revert to All Hallows Eve. Perhaps there are all sorts of problems with it from a nutritional stand point (candy is very tasty, and thus good, but to much of it is very bad as well), or a consumerism stand point (we have to buy costumes, and decorations, and this and that...and surely the money could be better spent on other things), and maybe even a moral ones (I won't speak for others, but there are certainly some costumes I'd never allow/hope that my kids would never wear). There are, in other words, all sorts of reasons one could think to be "against" it. And if that is where you are, I'm not going to say you are wrong. There may even be counter arguments for those who have arguments in its favor (such as, it is just a bit of fun. Or that in dressing up and giving out candy/getting it you are hard pressed to argue that people are really worshiping the devil or consecrating chocolate bars to evil. Or even, to borrow from/paraphrase C.S. Lewis, that it is good to see make believe monsters, so that we might be better prepared to fight real ones). But I'd assert that for Christians, whether inside or outside of the Mainline, there are also much bigger cultural issues facing our nation and world than Halloween. And maybe, rather than focusing on this holiday and arguing over it, we should all turn our attention to those wider issues of much greater importance. After all, it is largely because of the work of a Calvinist atheist that we remember the Puritans for being more than just "kill joys" and people who tried witches.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Back to Bloomington (Presbyterian)
I am a proud Hoosier in more ways than one. Indiana is the state of my birth, but I also hold three degrees from Indiana University. For four years, I was an undergrad in Bloomington. For another six years I commuted weekly (and for part of that time nearly daily) from Indianapolis to the IU campus. When I first arrived the city and campus wasn't that far removed from how it was portrayed in the movie Breaking Away (which is a great movie still in many ways).
That being said, even in the years since I finished by doctorate both the city and campus have changed a great deal. And with professional and personal obligations here in Indianapolis, I've had less time (or reason) to head down to B-Town.
But that changed today. An old friend from middle school and high school, who is now a professor in the Kelley School of Business contacted me to see if I'd be willing to come down and talk at his church about The Mainline. Once we settled on a good Sunday, and I'd convinced my wife that it would make a great "day trip for the kids" (since they've never been to Bloomington before), off we went down the Interstate to old IU.
And so, we arrived at Bloomington's First Presbyterian Church. The congregation, in many ways, is reflective of the Mainline of the Seven Sisters in a college town. It has plenty of older members, but with a strong young family contingent as well. It is trying to have a good outreach to the campus (and if you read its history, and know IU's history, it wouldn't surprise you to learn that once upon a time, this church had a very active connection to the school, which itself was led by Presbyterians) that it is only a few blocks away from. I had never been there before, I could certainly understand why my friend had made his church home here.
The talk, I think, went quite well. While the group was small, they listened attentively and asked wonderful questions. So, we got to talk about if the liberal/conservative split was also an urban/rural one, whether or not some conservative churches would ever allow women to have leadership roles, the degree to which secular culture influences the Church and the Church can influence secular culture, the role of missionaries/missionary boards (both at the denominational and trans-denominational level) were and were not in competition with one another (and how that might fit within the Global Church as well as in a Religious Right/Left divide), the usefulness of the Mainline as a conceptual tool, and even a little discussion about Philadelphia (the original home of the mainline). These are all important lines of inquiry, and ones that I hope get more attention in the future (either from myself or from other scholars). And if there is one thing I took away from the hour or so we spent in conversation, it was to reinforce my argument that the local matters in ways that just talking about denominations will never fully capture when it comes to talking about American Religious History.
When all was said and done, it was a wonderful day to start our "one tank getaway." We got to eat lunch at one of the all time best pizza places, and we got to take our kids around the campus where "mommy and daddy met and fell in love." And though our son pronounced it "mushy," I think both he and his sister had a great time (and he really enjoyed his time at Sunday School this morning).
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| Best Pizza in Bloomington |
And then we made the trek home, in time to take part in a "trunk or treat" event at Fishers United Methodist Church. But the tale of candy acquired and consumed will have to wait for another day!
Monday, October 14, 2013
Cherry Picking
This past weekend, my son got called for "cherry picking" at his soccer game. He had beaten the defense and happened to be in the right place at the right time when a teammate kicked the ball his way. The goal he scored was rescinded by the opposing coach, over the protest of my son's coach (even though goals and wins/losses only matter in the spring tourney), all to the dismay of my son (who was being congratulated by his teammates and was confused by the call). To add to the situation, what my son did wasn't in technical violation of the rules (as his coach pointed out) and the goal was only scored because the other team's defender (the boys are still young enough where there is no goalie) had abandoned his post to go where the action was.
In the non-sporting, academic world, cherry picking isn't about having a player near the other team's goal or basket, it is when we pick what we want to talk about to the neglect of other things in a given book or article. Out of the many articles and posts I've read in the past week or two, these are the ones I'm going to talk about, in the context of The Mainline and the state of American Christianity and Religion.
The first is over Carol Howard Merritt's post in The Christian Century from September, in which she argues against the continued use of the name "mainline" to describe the Seven Sisters. It is a brief post and is one that is focused on making an argument for a recasting of those denominations as a sort of Progressive/liberal religious force, abandoning "mainline" (not because they are no longer the majority denominations, as I argue in my book) but rather because the term seems to her to describe people who "hang out at the Country Club and eat cucumber sandwiches in fancy hats." Her post has generated some interest in the possibility of finding a new name to classify the Seven Sisters (see the Religion News Service article here if you'd like to vote and/or read the commentary/discussion).
While such a discussion is interesting and fun (even if it isn't likely to catch on), there are a few problems with Merritt's post. The first is that the term "mainline" predates sociologist E. Digby Baltzell's use of it in talking about "upper crust" Philadelphia society. The reason it got attached to the Seven Sisters to begin with (as I discuss in my book) is because the Federal Council of Churches was organized in Philadelphia some fifty years before Baltzell's piece was even written. The mainline is older than the 1950s, it has a history (and yes baggage), but there is power in the name and to abandon it, to allow it to fall into disuse, is not something to be done lightly.
The second problem is that Merritt's argument is based on two additional assumptions: That by accepting the term "mainline" the Seven Sisters are "white-washes our influences" and that keeping it somehow limits the Sisters from answering the call to "who we want to become." As to the notion of "white-washing," Merritt accurately points out that it could be construed that the Seven Sisters have only been influenced by white theologians (more precisely, dead white males), whereas she points to a wide a diversity (whites, blacks, Hispanic, men, women, Catholic, and Protestant) of influences on theological trends within the Seven Sisters. The problem here is two-fold: First, the notion of white-washing is somewhat the creation of the Seven Sisters themselves (and to a larger degree, the Federal/National Council of Churches), and somewhat missing the point that when the organization was first created by those denominations, for a wide variety of historical reasons (including racism and sexism to be sure), it was the creation of largely white males. While such a history does not preclude change to be sure ("who we want to become"), as I read Merritt here, what she seems to be advocating is not just a move away from the past but all most a rejection of it. In short, taking this line to its extreme, one might see the repudiation of much good along with much of what one might disagree with. Institutions without moorings (or a firm foundation) are not likely to stand the test of time, even with a name change. And while the list of theologians are impressive and make for a strong argument, they are not the whole story nor are they the only theologians who deserve mention and consideration.
Indeed, Merritt's argument presupposes that the Seven Sisters are only home to liberals (both theological and political) since the 1960s. That isn't backed up by the evidence, even today you can find theological diversity within the Seven Sisters, perhaps most obviously at the local level. And that gets at her second point ("who we want to become"). Which "who" is Merritt talking about? The conservative, evangelical United Methodist congregation in Indiana? The liberal Episcopalian church in New York City? The Presbyterian Church (USA) in Texas? It assumes a consensus within and between denominations that is largely a fiction. It is a useful fiction in many respects (esp. for denominational leaders) but it is a fiction nevertheless. Just like no one voted to start calling the Seven Sisters, the founders of today's National Council of Churches, the Mainline to begin with, no one (even those taking part in the Religion News Service poll) is going to be able to craft a new label that really captures who those denominations are today. The diversity that Merritt alludes to (and celebrates) in her post insures that. Furthermore, while those churches and denominations aren't likely to disappear (let alone the Church--a topic I'll return to later in the week perhaps), the Seven Sisters do have a problem with "median age" that a name change or re-branding isn't likely to change either.
In the non-sporting, academic world, cherry picking isn't about having a player near the other team's goal or basket, it is when we pick what we want to talk about to the neglect of other things in a given book or article. Out of the many articles and posts I've read in the past week or two, these are the ones I'm going to talk about, in the context of The Mainline and the state of American Christianity and Religion.
The first is over Carol Howard Merritt's post in The Christian Century from September, in which she argues against the continued use of the name "mainline" to describe the Seven Sisters. It is a brief post and is one that is focused on making an argument for a recasting of those denominations as a sort of Progressive/liberal religious force, abandoning "mainline" (not because they are no longer the majority denominations, as I argue in my book) but rather because the term seems to her to describe people who "hang out at the Country Club and eat cucumber sandwiches in fancy hats." Her post has generated some interest in the possibility of finding a new name to classify the Seven Sisters (see the Religion News Service article here if you'd like to vote and/or read the commentary/discussion).
While such a discussion is interesting and fun (even if it isn't likely to catch on), there are a few problems with Merritt's post. The first is that the term "mainline" predates sociologist E. Digby Baltzell's use of it in talking about "upper crust" Philadelphia society. The reason it got attached to the Seven Sisters to begin with (as I discuss in my book) is because the Federal Council of Churches was organized in Philadelphia some fifty years before Baltzell's piece was even written. The mainline is older than the 1950s, it has a history (and yes baggage), but there is power in the name and to abandon it, to allow it to fall into disuse, is not something to be done lightly.
The second problem is that Merritt's argument is based on two additional assumptions: That by accepting the term "mainline" the Seven Sisters are "white-washes our influences" and that keeping it somehow limits the Sisters from answering the call to "who we want to become." As to the notion of "white-washing," Merritt accurately points out that it could be construed that the Seven Sisters have only been influenced by white theologians (more precisely, dead white males), whereas she points to a wide a diversity (whites, blacks, Hispanic, men, women, Catholic, and Protestant) of influences on theological trends within the Seven Sisters. The problem here is two-fold: First, the notion of white-washing is somewhat the creation of the Seven Sisters themselves (and to a larger degree, the Federal/National Council of Churches), and somewhat missing the point that when the organization was first created by those denominations, for a wide variety of historical reasons (including racism and sexism to be sure), it was the creation of largely white males. While such a history does not preclude change to be sure ("who we want to become"), as I read Merritt here, what she seems to be advocating is not just a move away from the past but all most a rejection of it. In short, taking this line to its extreme, one might see the repudiation of much good along with much of what one might disagree with. Institutions without moorings (or a firm foundation) are not likely to stand the test of time, even with a name change. And while the list of theologians are impressive and make for a strong argument, they are not the whole story nor are they the only theologians who deserve mention and consideration.
Indeed, Merritt's argument presupposes that the Seven Sisters are only home to liberals (both theological and political) since the 1960s. That isn't backed up by the evidence, even today you can find theological diversity within the Seven Sisters, perhaps most obviously at the local level. And that gets at her second point ("who we want to become"). Which "who" is Merritt talking about? The conservative, evangelical United Methodist congregation in Indiana? The liberal Episcopalian church in New York City? The Presbyterian Church (USA) in Texas? It assumes a consensus within and between denominations that is largely a fiction. It is a useful fiction in many respects (esp. for denominational leaders) but it is a fiction nevertheless. Just like no one voted to start calling the Seven Sisters, the founders of today's National Council of Churches, the Mainline to begin with, no one (even those taking part in the Religion News Service poll) is going to be able to craft a new label that really captures who those denominations are today. The diversity that Merritt alludes to (and celebrates) in her post insures that. Furthermore, while those churches and denominations aren't likely to disappear (let alone the Church--a topic I'll return to later in the week perhaps), the Seven Sisters do have a problem with "median age" that a name change or re-branding isn't likely to change either.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Spectacle of Toleration
Back in January, when I was in the midst of both enjoying and having an epiphany about Disney World and religion (which remains the most popular post on this blog), I was standing in line at the Barnstormer with my children checking my email when I came upon a call for panelists for a conference to be held in Rhode Island. The conference was dedicated to the notion of religious toleration in American History, with a focus on Rhode Island's colonial charter. As I've always enjoyed going to Rhode Island, including when I got to speak in Newport back in 2006, I jumped at the chance to make a return to the Ocean State.
I agreed to be a commentator for a panel that was built around how the notion of toleration had played out in the early and mid-twentieth century. The papers covered topics ranging from the granting of peyote usage in religious ceremonies by Native Americans starting during the New Deal, to the legal struggles of Jehovah's Witness around World War II (the famed Gobitis case), the mainstreaming of Mormons, and (in light of my own work on the Mainline) the attempt by the National Council of Churches to silence conservative religious voices on the radio by using the FCC. I was really looking forward to being a part of the Spectacle of Toleration conference, but alas, for a variety of reasons, I ended up not being able to go. Thankfully, my panel was both gracious (allowing me to email in my commentary for today's event) and tolerant of my absence. The papers I read, each in their own way, open the door for further research. Not just on their own, particular topic, but also the affect that World War II had the course of American Religious History.
Though I wasn't able to attend, and have been quite busy on my own both personally and professionally in the past few weeks, I've also been doing some very interesting reading about topics I've addressed on this blog before, namely on the issue of the Millennials. There is this intriguing piece on how the Religious Left (or maybe, liberal evangelicals to be more precise) are attempting to reach out to Millennials. Whether or not they are successful, or whether or not some of them are genuine in their attempt (if I'm reading the author of the article correctly, she believes their chief goal is simply to shore up political support for liberal politics), like most things with the Millennials, we'll have to see. But that is the future (beyond the speculation), in an attempt to understand how we got to the point where we are talking about Millennials and the Church at all by far the best article I have read on the subject is this one.
I really can't say enough good things about Matt Marino's post. Not only do I think it hits on something that needs to be discussed, but it is one of the most obvious things that might be an answer to the question about Millennials and the Church to begin with....and thus one of those things that might easily be over looked. The history of Sunday School in the United States is a long one, with several twists and turns, and there is also no doubt that there is much to recommend it even today. As someone who went through Sunday School, whose parents have taught/helped in Sunday School, and who has himself taught Sunday School classes, I have lots of positive memories and am sure that it helped shape my faith. And yet, at the exact same time, Marino's point that American churches and their Sunday Schools, at times, have put "programing" ahead of the Gospel and that children can grow up in a church without ever spending much time participating in the life of the church, really hits home. For the Mainline, who made an effort to raise Christians rather than seek to save/convert people (even little ones) to Christianity, Marino's post seems to make even more sense. And if reading his post doesn't also make you wonder whether or not it would be better to have your kids with you in the sanctuary with you tomorrow rather than in a Sunday School classroom, then I'd urge you to read it again!
I agreed to be a commentator for a panel that was built around how the notion of toleration had played out in the early and mid-twentieth century. The papers covered topics ranging from the granting of peyote usage in religious ceremonies by Native Americans starting during the New Deal, to the legal struggles of Jehovah's Witness around World War II (the famed Gobitis case), the mainstreaming of Mormons, and (in light of my own work on the Mainline) the attempt by the National Council of Churches to silence conservative religious voices on the radio by using the FCC. I was really looking forward to being a part of the Spectacle of Toleration conference, but alas, for a variety of reasons, I ended up not being able to go. Thankfully, my panel was both gracious (allowing me to email in my commentary for today's event) and tolerant of my absence. The papers I read, each in their own way, open the door for further research. Not just on their own, particular topic, but also the affect that World War II had the course of American Religious History.
Though I wasn't able to attend, and have been quite busy on my own both personally and professionally in the past few weeks, I've also been doing some very interesting reading about topics I've addressed on this blog before, namely on the issue of the Millennials. There is this intriguing piece on how the Religious Left (or maybe, liberal evangelicals to be more precise) are attempting to reach out to Millennials. Whether or not they are successful, or whether or not some of them are genuine in their attempt (if I'm reading the author of the article correctly, she believes their chief goal is simply to shore up political support for liberal politics), like most things with the Millennials, we'll have to see. But that is the future (beyond the speculation), in an attempt to understand how we got to the point where we are talking about Millennials and the Church at all by far the best article I have read on the subject is this one.
I really can't say enough good things about Matt Marino's post. Not only do I think it hits on something that needs to be discussed, but it is one of the most obvious things that might be an answer to the question about Millennials and the Church to begin with....and thus one of those things that might easily be over looked. The history of Sunday School in the United States is a long one, with several twists and turns, and there is also no doubt that there is much to recommend it even today. As someone who went through Sunday School, whose parents have taught/helped in Sunday School, and who has himself taught Sunday School classes, I have lots of positive memories and am sure that it helped shape my faith. And yet, at the exact same time, Marino's point that American churches and their Sunday Schools, at times, have put "programing" ahead of the Gospel and that children can grow up in a church without ever spending much time participating in the life of the church, really hits home. For the Mainline, who made an effort to raise Christians rather than seek to save/convert people (even little ones) to Christianity, Marino's post seems to make even more sense. And if reading his post doesn't also make you wonder whether or not it would be better to have your kids with you in the sanctuary with you tomorrow rather than in a Sunday School classroom, then I'd urge you to read it again!
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