Peace. The word, the phrase, the idea, has been on my mind of late. The last post to this blog was about the possibility of the United States taking military action in Syria, and whether or not that fit into Just War theory. As it turned out, a few days after that post, such action was averted (at least for the time being), when a diplomatic solution emerged. Whether that particular solution was in the best interests (long term) of the United States, indeed whether or not that solution is even a solution (some suspect that Syria and Russia have out maneuvered both the White House and the State Department -- see here), remains to be seen. But, if peace is the absence of armed conflict, then at least for the time, we have peace (even if civil war continues to rage in Syria itself). If nothing else, and as I hope that post helped to point out, there is much discussion that can (and should) take place within America's churches about war and peace, and when the State can and should act in the wider world, and what the faith thinks about that (see here for more in that vein).
No sooner had we achieved peace, at least for the time, at least in one place on an international level, America was reminded how fragile that peace can be at home. Earlier this week a disgruntled civilian contractor walked into one of the building at the Washington Navy Yard and opened fire with weapons, killing thirteen people for no reason we now know, and in a random way that leaves many questions, and only grief in its wake. If in the case of Syria, American Christians were asked to think about what constitutes a just war, in the case of the Navy Yard shooting they are called much more to grieve with the families of the victims than to discuss policy changes to gun laws or mental health or security at government facilities, at least for now, and at least for the most part.
And then came news that hit closer to home. I awakened Friday morning to word (both via social media and from the local news) that someone I went to high school with, Officer Rod Bradway, had been killed in the line of duty. Rod was a police officer (a term that has largely replaced the notions of law enforcement from the nineteenth century and before of a "peace officer" and the related "justice of the peace"...those officials who were charged by the state to enforce the laws of peace upon our civil society) in Indianapolis, who had responded to a call of a suspected domestic violence incident, and from initial reports, was ambushed upon entering the apartment. Both he, and the man who shot him, died. Rod was two years older than me, and I won't pretend to that we were friends or even knew each other well, but I do remember him. He was always nice (not all upper class men were of course), and then there was the 50 yard field goal he made in a close football game!
It is ironic, if that is the right word, how tragedies such as these make us think about life and about concepts about peace in different ways. I can't say that I'd thought of Rob in years, nor seen him (probably since he graduated, or perhaps when my class did, as his younger brother was in my grade). And yet, seeing his official picture today (as well as old ones from our time at NorthWood High School) brought back memories of him and others. My prayers tonight are for his wife and family, that they may know peace in this time of tragedy. And that they may remember, as one of our classmates put it, that while life is not fair (though we wish it were), it is very precious.
And the search for peace, for our world, our country, ourselves, and for others continues despite these stories of success, progress, setbacks, and sadness. At Butler University, where I spend part of my professional life, in the past week or so there have been stories of trying to work for peace. A peace pole was unveiled on campus in an interfaith prayer service. Situated between the union building and the main classroom building, the pole, it is hoped, will be a visual reminder to strive for peace on earth. Likewise, the university announced plans to launch the Desmund Tutu Center, named for the Anglican Archbishop Emeritus of South Africa (who visited and spoke on campus earlier this month), that will be dedicated to "social justice and reconciliation, international relationships, and interreligious and community bridge-building."
What will become of these and other attempts to craft a more peaceful world remain to be seen. Christians, of course, recognize that while Jesus is the Prince of Peace, He did not promise that peace would reign on Earth (see Matthew 10:34) until He does. But they are also called to be peacemakers (Matthew 5:9), and that can come in a variety of forms. Perhaps these words from a song turned into a hymn (written by Jill Jackson and Sy Miller in 1955) are worth repeating as we start this weekend and think of such things:
Let there be peace on earth
And let it begin with me.
Let there be peace on earth
The peace that was meant to be.
With God as our father
Brothers all are we.
Let me walk with my brother
In perfect harmony.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Just War or just war?
I grew up in an area of the United States where there was a strong presence of Amish and Mennonite churches. For those of you unfamiliar with these denominations, one of the facets of their faith is a very strong peace, or pacifistic, testimony. While many of my childhood classmates and friends came from this heritage, I did not. Though my family wasn't what I'd call militaristic (though extended members on both sides of my family had served in the United States military), we were patriotic, and believed that there were certain times and certain principles worth fighting for if called upon to do so by our nation. That being said, I have a healthy intellectual respect for those who hold to Christian call to be peacemakers, even if I might argue that there are times when the only way peace can be made or preserved is through first engaging the enemy on the field of combat.
Historically, Christians have summed up their arguments in favor of supporting their government's call to arms via the Just War doctrine. Formulated by the early Church (much of it by St. Augustine), and embraced (and perhaps made famous) by the Roman Catholic Church (you can read more here), Just War theory argues the following:
1. The use of force is something that must be considered in the gravest of terms.
2. The use of force should be in defense, against an aggressor who is seeking to do great harm.
3. The use of force should be a last resort, after other (peaceful) options have been tried.
4. The use of force should carry with it a good chance of success when it comes to the conflict.
5. The use of force should not cause worse conditions than those that prompted their use at the outset.
6. It is up to the government to decide these factors.
7. The war should be conducted morally, this means fair treatment for non-combatants, wounded, and prisoners. Genocide and large scale destruction of whole cities is immoral.
Of course, one need not be Catholic to embrace the tenants of Just War Doctrine, most Protestant Churches have some variation on the above, even if most of the old Mainline denominations have become more pacifistic (and like my old Amish neighbors) over the course of the twentieth and into the twenty-first centuries. The interplay between growing American military, political, economic, and cultural influence, and the turn against many American foreign policy pronouncements by the Seven Sisters over the second half of the twentieth and into the twenty-first centuries is something I talk about in The Mainline. For more on the growth of pacifistic thought in America's churches, see these posts (here and here)
All of this theological discussion on the nature of war takes on a new meaning this week. The United States is currently set to debate, at the request of President Obama, a Congressional authorization for the use of military force in Syria (you can read more about it here, here, and here for starters). And if you read these (and other posts) the complexity of that request becomes clear. Democrats who have been anti-war are being asked by an administration of their own party to authorize war (as an aside, let us no longer kid ourselves about such "use of force" requests -- there might be technical differences, but this has simply become the modern "declaration of war" -- and cloaking it in any other language or denying it as such does a disservice to the American armed forces that are asked and tasked with undertaking such operations). Republicans are torn between wanting to protect (historically) bipartisan means by which the nation now fights its wars (some, no doubt, thinking ahead to the next presidential election), while also showcasing mistrust of the Obama Administration's intentions and plans. Some of the public appears to be "war weary," while others argue that this is not "our fight," and others still calling on the U.S. to embrace a non-violent, pacifistic role.
If we were to apply Just War doctrine to the Syrian case (and few supporters or detractors seem to be doing so), I think it would be a hard one to make. One might argue that since earlier this year, when a "red line" was first pronounced about the use of WMDs, that the U.S. government has been thinking about the use of force in "grave terms," so criteria 1 would have been met. Criteria 3 also has likely been met (war as a last resort). Criteria 4 (that of success) is a bit murky, though any air strike would likely be "successful" (the murkiness comes, rather, from how we define total success). Criteria 6 (a governmental decision) obviously is met. And criteria 7 (because of the likely limited nature of U.S. involvement -- Secretary of State Kerry having said that there would be no deployment of U.S. ground forces) might also be considered achieved.
The problem is that for Just War doctrine to be applied in the affirmative ALL the criteria must be met. Criteria 2 (that force be used defensively to halt a great harm) is somewhat problematic. Syria is in the midst of (at best) a civil war. On the one hand is the Assad family dictatorship (which is ruthless, fighting for its survival, and may very well have used WMDs). On the other, is a group of rebels, which includes some moderates, but also some with terrorist links (the latter, it has been alleged, may have used WMDs themselves). Neither side, in other words, is blameless. And while both sides may, on some level, be "bad," neither is actually posing a current, direct threat to the United States either. The argument that might be made is that they could pose such a threat in the future, or that what is happening is genocide that must be stopped, but I've yet to really hear that be articulated. Indeed, what the Obama Administration is proposing is akin to the Bush Doctrine it claimed to have rejected when the president took office in 2009. Likewise, it is not clear that a U.S. strike would meet criteria 5 either (that the use of force would not make the situation worse than it already is). After all, civil wars are, by their very nature, terrible for the nation involved. More bombs are not likely to make it better or more tolerable for either side, nor for those trapped in between them.
In short then, it is hard to see the Syrian case in a Just War doctrine light. Indeed, it seems like any U.S. action would be just war, not Just War, in its implications. Be that as it may, like most things in the real world (one where theory has to be applied, not just debated in the abstract), the present situation is much more complicated than mere words on a page can articulate. Perhaps all that can be done is that people of good will pray for peace, even as war clouds seem to gather yet again. That isn't a pacifistic nor militaristic view, nor is it a Republican or Democrat, or even a Old Mainline or New Mainline point of view. It is simply the right thing to do, no matter the ultimate decision or outcome. "Wars and rumors of wars" (Matthew 24:6) are part of the real world experience for those who are blessed as "peacemakers" (Matthew 5:9) in the Christian tradition.
Historically, Christians have summed up their arguments in favor of supporting their government's call to arms via the Just War doctrine. Formulated by the early Church (much of it by St. Augustine), and embraced (and perhaps made famous) by the Roman Catholic Church (you can read more here), Just War theory argues the following:
1. The use of force is something that must be considered in the gravest of terms.
2. The use of force should be in defense, against an aggressor who is seeking to do great harm.
3. The use of force should be a last resort, after other (peaceful) options have been tried.
4. The use of force should carry with it a good chance of success when it comes to the conflict.
5. The use of force should not cause worse conditions than those that prompted their use at the outset.
6. It is up to the government to decide these factors.
7. The war should be conducted morally, this means fair treatment for non-combatants, wounded, and prisoners. Genocide and large scale destruction of whole cities is immoral.
Of course, one need not be Catholic to embrace the tenants of Just War Doctrine, most Protestant Churches have some variation on the above, even if most of the old Mainline denominations have become more pacifistic (and like my old Amish neighbors) over the course of the twentieth and into the twenty-first centuries. The interplay between growing American military, political, economic, and cultural influence, and the turn against many American foreign policy pronouncements by the Seven Sisters over the second half of the twentieth and into the twenty-first centuries is something I talk about in The Mainline. For more on the growth of pacifistic thought in America's churches, see these posts (here and here)
All of this theological discussion on the nature of war takes on a new meaning this week. The United States is currently set to debate, at the request of President Obama, a Congressional authorization for the use of military force in Syria (you can read more about it here, here, and here for starters). And if you read these (and other posts) the complexity of that request becomes clear. Democrats who have been anti-war are being asked by an administration of their own party to authorize war (as an aside, let us no longer kid ourselves about such "use of force" requests -- there might be technical differences, but this has simply become the modern "declaration of war" -- and cloaking it in any other language or denying it as such does a disservice to the American armed forces that are asked and tasked with undertaking such operations). Republicans are torn between wanting to protect (historically) bipartisan means by which the nation now fights its wars (some, no doubt, thinking ahead to the next presidential election), while also showcasing mistrust of the Obama Administration's intentions and plans. Some of the public appears to be "war weary," while others argue that this is not "our fight," and others still calling on the U.S. to embrace a non-violent, pacifistic role.
If we were to apply Just War doctrine to the Syrian case (and few supporters or detractors seem to be doing so), I think it would be a hard one to make. One might argue that since earlier this year, when a "red line" was first pronounced about the use of WMDs, that the U.S. government has been thinking about the use of force in "grave terms," so criteria 1 would have been met. Criteria 3 also has likely been met (war as a last resort). Criteria 4 (that of success) is a bit murky, though any air strike would likely be "successful" (the murkiness comes, rather, from how we define total success). Criteria 6 (a governmental decision) obviously is met. And criteria 7 (because of the likely limited nature of U.S. involvement -- Secretary of State Kerry having said that there would be no deployment of U.S. ground forces) might also be considered achieved.
The problem is that for Just War doctrine to be applied in the affirmative ALL the criteria must be met. Criteria 2 (that force be used defensively to halt a great harm) is somewhat problematic. Syria is in the midst of (at best) a civil war. On the one hand is the Assad family dictatorship (which is ruthless, fighting for its survival, and may very well have used WMDs). On the other, is a group of rebels, which includes some moderates, but also some with terrorist links (the latter, it has been alleged, may have used WMDs themselves). Neither side, in other words, is blameless. And while both sides may, on some level, be "bad," neither is actually posing a current, direct threat to the United States either. The argument that might be made is that they could pose such a threat in the future, or that what is happening is genocide that must be stopped, but I've yet to really hear that be articulated. Indeed, what the Obama Administration is proposing is akin to the Bush Doctrine it claimed to have rejected when the president took office in 2009. Likewise, it is not clear that a U.S. strike would meet criteria 5 either (that the use of force would not make the situation worse than it already is). After all, civil wars are, by their very nature, terrible for the nation involved. More bombs are not likely to make it better or more tolerable for either side, nor for those trapped in between them.
In short then, it is hard to see the Syrian case in a Just War doctrine light. Indeed, it seems like any U.S. action would be just war, not Just War, in its implications. Be that as it may, like most things in the real world (one where theory has to be applied, not just debated in the abstract), the present situation is much more complicated than mere words on a page can articulate. Perhaps all that can be done is that people of good will pray for peace, even as war clouds seem to gather yet again. That isn't a pacifistic nor militaristic view, nor is it a Republican or Democrat, or even a Old Mainline or New Mainline point of view. It is simply the right thing to do, no matter the ultimate decision or outcome. "Wars and rumors of wars" (Matthew 24:6) are part of the real world experience for those who are blessed as "peacemakers" (Matthew 5:9) in the Christian tradition.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Evidence
I always tell my classes at the start of the semester how, when I went to off to college, I thought I was going to go to law school and become a lawyer. That didn't happen, for a variety of reasons -- the waning of the influence of "Law and Order" in my life; the realization that I really did love (and wanted to make it my vocation) History; and power of professors in the Indiana University History Department to reshape my thinking. That being said, I did marry into a legal family (my father-in-law and wife are both members of the bar) and my brother also ended up in law school. I've done legal history as well, and so the law is never far from me, nor are its precepts. One of the foundations is the importance of evidence when you make a case, and tonight I came up on further evidence that maybe, just maybe, I was on to something in The Mainline.
Readers will recall that one of the arguments I made in the final chapter was that we needed to think (in order to save the term) of a new make up for the Mainline of the twenty-first century. I included in that list of denominations or groups Pentecostal Christians (most importantly, the Assemblies of God). In a recent article for World Magazine, Thomas Kidd (who was kind enough to provide the blurb for the back of my book, in an effort at full disclosure -- another legal rule) makes the argument that Pentecostals (highlighting the Assemblies) are indeed bucking the trend when it comes to membership growth and are a force to be reckoned with on the religious scene of today. You can read the whole article here.
It isn't, of course, the final verdict in such discussions about the role/importance of denominations in telling American religious history, but it is a pretty good bit of evidence that maybe, just maybe, not every story about denominations has to be about decline.
Readers will recall that one of the arguments I made in the final chapter was that we needed to think (in order to save the term) of a new make up for the Mainline of the twenty-first century. I included in that list of denominations or groups Pentecostal Christians (most importantly, the Assemblies of God). In a recent article for World Magazine, Thomas Kidd (who was kind enough to provide the blurb for the back of my book, in an effort at full disclosure -- another legal rule) makes the argument that Pentecostals (highlighting the Assemblies) are indeed bucking the trend when it comes to membership growth and are a force to be reckoned with on the religious scene of today. You can read the whole article here.
It isn't, of course, the final verdict in such discussions about the role/importance of denominations in telling American religious history, but it is a pretty good bit of evidence that maybe, just maybe, not every story about denominations has to be about decline.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Can We Meet in the Middle?
One of the great things about social media (beyond just keeping up with friends and family) is being able to hear from a variety of voices on topics I find interesting (both professionally and personally). In the past week or so, two such posts have caught my eye and got me thinking a bit about how Americans in the early twenty-first century view religion.
The first came from a Twitter post of an academic who studies politics and economics. Essentially the poster said the following: since there are so many religions, maybe believers should ask themselves if there is any way that theirs can be the only true faith, or if all faiths are just "man-invented." The second was a story (you can read it here) in which it was reported that the former head of the National Council of Churches (Joan Brown Campbell), who said that it was time for American Christians to not be "exclusive" in the faith beliefs -- that is, that there really is no point in trying to win people to Christ.
Here then, are two extremes present in the religious discussion of America today. The first argues that faith is just a creation of man, and perhaps, should have no standing in our decision making process (ie in the world of politics). The second argues that there are no real differences between faiths, and so we should all just get along. While both are very different (one arguing that faith does not matter because it is all just made up, the other saying that faith does matter -- but it doesn't matter what faith you follow because they are all the same), they are also very much the same (well, because, religion is all the same).
I would assert that both positions have very little basis in either world or American History.
The notion that faith is just a man-made invention is an atheistic line of course, with a rationalistic/Enlightenment heritage that truly started to blossom in the late nineteenth century with higher criticism (in the West), the scientific study of religion, and the rise of Marxist thought (amongst other trends). Of course where this line of thought breaks down is the following. Under it, religion isn't "special" in the sense that it tells us something more about our spiritual nature nor offers any sort of divine revelation, and as such, it is merely an ideology (of sorts). But the flip side then comes in, though an ideology, religion isn't supposed to have any sort of pull on policy making. It should be shunted aside (presumably into a "private sphere", where if it has no role to play in the public discourse.
The notion that faith, no matter what creed or doctrine, is essentially all the same, is also more of a recent development. But regardless of when it first appeared, it is not religious toleration (though toleration may be a part of its message and even its appeal to some). This is stating that there is no "one way to Heaven", just multiple paths to the same end(s). In some ways, it is also a very Humanistic statement.
Neither would historically have been found amongst the majority of Americans, however. The first line, that religion is man-made and has no role in the public sphere was hardly what the colonists, Founders, evangelicals of the Second Great Awakening, or the reformers of the Social Gospel period (nor, for that matter of the Moral Majority/Religious Right....and one would assume the Religious Left of today) believed. Likewise, the idea that difference between faiths (or even denominations) don't matter is also suspect historically. Now, the differences between Christian denominations may not matter as much as say the differences between Christianity and Islam, but to dismiss all doctrinal differences as moot is to not take seriously doctrine to begin with. Indeed, I'd assert that many who hold this idea (that all faiths are equal) really know very little about the faiths they claim to be bringing together. While we can surely learn things from people of different backgrounds and faiths, and while faith should not be a reason for, say, violence, we can respectfully disagree about things, while agreeing on other things. We can, in other words, meet somewhere in the middle of these two extreme views.
At least, that's what I'm thinking about on this final Friday of my summer vacation!
The first came from a Twitter post of an academic who studies politics and economics. Essentially the poster said the following: since there are so many religions, maybe believers should ask themselves if there is any way that theirs can be the only true faith, or if all faiths are just "man-invented." The second was a story (you can read it here) in which it was reported that the former head of the National Council of Churches (Joan Brown Campbell), who said that it was time for American Christians to not be "exclusive" in the faith beliefs -- that is, that there really is no point in trying to win people to Christ.
Here then, are two extremes present in the religious discussion of America today. The first argues that faith is just a creation of man, and perhaps, should have no standing in our decision making process (ie in the world of politics). The second argues that there are no real differences between faiths, and so we should all just get along. While both are very different (one arguing that faith does not matter because it is all just made up, the other saying that faith does matter -- but it doesn't matter what faith you follow because they are all the same), they are also very much the same (well, because, religion is all the same).
I would assert that both positions have very little basis in either world or American History.
The notion that faith is just a man-made invention is an atheistic line of course, with a rationalistic/Enlightenment heritage that truly started to blossom in the late nineteenth century with higher criticism (in the West), the scientific study of religion, and the rise of Marxist thought (amongst other trends). Of course where this line of thought breaks down is the following. Under it, religion isn't "special" in the sense that it tells us something more about our spiritual nature nor offers any sort of divine revelation, and as such, it is merely an ideology (of sorts). But the flip side then comes in, though an ideology, religion isn't supposed to have any sort of pull on policy making. It should be shunted aside (presumably into a "private sphere", where if it has no role to play in the public discourse.
The notion that faith, no matter what creed or doctrine, is essentially all the same, is also more of a recent development. But regardless of when it first appeared, it is not religious toleration (though toleration may be a part of its message and even its appeal to some). This is stating that there is no "one way to Heaven", just multiple paths to the same end(s). In some ways, it is also a very Humanistic statement.
Neither would historically have been found amongst the majority of Americans, however. The first line, that religion is man-made and has no role in the public sphere was hardly what the colonists, Founders, evangelicals of the Second Great Awakening, or the reformers of the Social Gospel period (nor, for that matter of the Moral Majority/Religious Right....and one would assume the Religious Left of today) believed. Likewise, the idea that difference between faiths (or even denominations) don't matter is also suspect historically. Now, the differences between Christian denominations may not matter as much as say the differences between Christianity and Islam, but to dismiss all doctrinal differences as moot is to not take seriously doctrine to begin with. Indeed, I'd assert that many who hold this idea (that all faiths are equal) really know very little about the faiths they claim to be bringing together. While we can surely learn things from people of different backgrounds and faiths, and while faith should not be a reason for, say, violence, we can respectfully disagree about things, while agreeing on other things. We can, in other words, meet somewhere in the middle of these two extreme views.
At least, that's what I'm thinking about on this final Friday of my summer vacation!
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Kingdom of God
I have spent much of my professional life grappling with the Progressives. My introduction came while working on my first book, Prohibition is Here to Stay, in which I had to discuss how the Reverend Edward S. Shumaker became Indiana's leading dry. The answer, I found was the intermixing of temperance sentiment within his own Methodist tradition with the emerging Progressive political and Social Gospel theological movements. To me it seemed then, as it still does today, that it was a rather easy leap for him to make from the pulpit to political activist, leading his (largely) evangelical dry crusade, via the Anti-Saloon League (whose slogan was "the Church in action") against the forces of "demon rum."
Of course one of the fun things about studying the Progressives is that scholars (not unlike the Progressives themselves) argue over what is or was a "real" Progressive reform. Our problem is that there was no checklist, no requirements, to being a Progressive. Really (and this no doubt will gall some of my colleagues) the only requirement was that you be a reformer in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century advocating that your reform would make American society better. Hence, reforms ran the gambit from Prohibition, to worker's rights, to child labor laws, to eugenics, to food and drug regulation, to many, many more. You did not need to advocate all of these things to be a Progressive, you did not even need to support all of them. Likewise, you did not have to be politically liberal (really by the standards of the time, and most assuredly by today's definition) to be a reformer either. Such ambiguity can be maddening at times when you are trying to write or teach about the Progressives. It can also make it difficult to define or even defend the term within its modern use versus its historical context (note how many twenty-first century political liberals have attempted to adopt the term "Progressive" for themselves).
But, I have been thinking about the Progressives again because I have been reading posts this week about whether or not Christians can hope (or even should hope) to be able to transform their culture or not. Hence, in the past week there have been calls for Christians to re-engage the fine arts (as a means to transform the culture), rather than seek a political solution (see here), calls to be "realistic" at what Christians can actually hope to accomplish (see here), and doubts that Christians can ever hope to actually transform secular culture at all (see here). Perhaps interestingly, these posts come from what might be called the more conservative theological spectrum, and dovetail nicely with this piece from the Wall Street Journal in which Russell Moore of the Southern Baptist Convention asserts that "the Bible Belt is collapsing." Rather than a "moral majority", Moore says American Christians must now be prepared to be a "prophetic minority."
Such a discussion is healthy to have of course. What is the role of God's people on this earth? Is it to save society? Or merely save souls? Can it do both? Can committed Christians actually live their faith and NOT affect wider society? While some of the discussion above is related to notions of such debates over "two kingdoms theology" (see here) and what that means for Christians and culture, there is also a tinge of dejection -- that despite the best efforts of the Religious Right since the late 1970s, America seems to be only getting more secular, that perhaps they have failed to recapture or transform the culture at all, and that the best that can be hoped for is to hold on to what God has given them individually.
The Progressives grappled with this kind of dejection--of falling short of their goals--as well. For religiously inspired reformers, what they were striving for was to establish God's kingdom on this earth. Some believed that by perfecting American society (not unlike their parents or grandparents during the Second Great Awakening) they would literally be preparing the world for Christ's Second Coming. Hence to them, reform work was both their Christian duty to their fellow man and a divine mandate. That their reforms sometimes worked, sometimes failed, and sometimes never got very far was, eventually, a source of confusion and disappointment (coupled with the theological controversies of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries) that caused many denominations to pull back from the wider world and from each other by the time of the Great Depression.
The pull back by some and the coasting of others led to a lack of cultural engagement and involvement unprecedented in American History. As I argue in The Mainline this contributed to the decline of the Seven Sisters and the rise of what has been called the Religious Right (and to a lesser extent, the Religious Left perhaps). Disengagement from the culture might feel nice in the short term, but holds the potential to do far greater damage to both the Church and the wider culture than staying engaged does. And to hear one of the leaders of the Southern Baptist Convention talk about being a "prophetic minority" is to remind me of some within the Episcopal Church (including some affiliated with retired Bishop John Shelby Spong) who, in the late 1990s claimed that they were a "righteous remnant" in the face of dwindling membership within the denomination and attacks on liberal theology. Considering that I placed the Southern Baptists within the new Mainline, it causes one to wonder if they will not lead, who will? And if Christians will not engage the culture, who will?
Of course one of the fun things about studying the Progressives is that scholars (not unlike the Progressives themselves) argue over what is or was a "real" Progressive reform. Our problem is that there was no checklist, no requirements, to being a Progressive. Really (and this no doubt will gall some of my colleagues) the only requirement was that you be a reformer in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century advocating that your reform would make American society better. Hence, reforms ran the gambit from Prohibition, to worker's rights, to child labor laws, to eugenics, to food and drug regulation, to many, many more. You did not need to advocate all of these things to be a Progressive, you did not even need to support all of them. Likewise, you did not have to be politically liberal (really by the standards of the time, and most assuredly by today's definition) to be a reformer either. Such ambiguity can be maddening at times when you are trying to write or teach about the Progressives. It can also make it difficult to define or even defend the term within its modern use versus its historical context (note how many twenty-first century political liberals have attempted to adopt the term "Progressive" for themselves).
But, I have been thinking about the Progressives again because I have been reading posts this week about whether or not Christians can hope (or even should hope) to be able to transform their culture or not. Hence, in the past week there have been calls for Christians to re-engage the fine arts (as a means to transform the culture), rather than seek a political solution (see here), calls to be "realistic" at what Christians can actually hope to accomplish (see here), and doubts that Christians can ever hope to actually transform secular culture at all (see here). Perhaps interestingly, these posts come from what might be called the more conservative theological spectrum, and dovetail nicely with this piece from the Wall Street Journal in which Russell Moore of the Southern Baptist Convention asserts that "the Bible Belt is collapsing." Rather than a "moral majority", Moore says American Christians must now be prepared to be a "prophetic minority."
Such a discussion is healthy to have of course. What is the role of God's people on this earth? Is it to save society? Or merely save souls? Can it do both? Can committed Christians actually live their faith and NOT affect wider society? While some of the discussion above is related to notions of such debates over "two kingdoms theology" (see here) and what that means for Christians and culture, there is also a tinge of dejection -- that despite the best efforts of the Religious Right since the late 1970s, America seems to be only getting more secular, that perhaps they have failed to recapture or transform the culture at all, and that the best that can be hoped for is to hold on to what God has given them individually.
The Progressives grappled with this kind of dejection--of falling short of their goals--as well. For religiously inspired reformers, what they were striving for was to establish God's kingdom on this earth. Some believed that by perfecting American society (not unlike their parents or grandparents during the Second Great Awakening) they would literally be preparing the world for Christ's Second Coming. Hence to them, reform work was both their Christian duty to their fellow man and a divine mandate. That their reforms sometimes worked, sometimes failed, and sometimes never got very far was, eventually, a source of confusion and disappointment (coupled with the theological controversies of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries) that caused many denominations to pull back from the wider world and from each other by the time of the Great Depression.
The pull back by some and the coasting of others led to a lack of cultural engagement and involvement unprecedented in American History. As I argue in The Mainline this contributed to the decline of the Seven Sisters and the rise of what has been called the Religious Right (and to a lesser extent, the Religious Left perhaps). Disengagement from the culture might feel nice in the short term, but holds the potential to do far greater damage to both the Church and the wider culture than staying engaged does. And to hear one of the leaders of the Southern Baptist Convention talk about being a "prophetic minority" is to remind me of some within the Episcopal Church (including some affiliated with retired Bishop John Shelby Spong) who, in the late 1990s claimed that they were a "righteous remnant" in the face of dwindling membership within the denomination and attacks on liberal theology. Considering that I placed the Southern Baptists within the new Mainline, it causes one to wonder if they will not lead, who will? And if Christians will not engage the culture, who will?
Monday, August 5, 2013
Enough with the Nones?
Dating back to October, when the then most recent Pew Study came out, there has been increasing chatter about "The Nones" -- the perhaps 20% of respondents who told Pew that they were not part of organized religion in modern America. Over those months, there has been growing clamor over what this means (Has decline of all religious institutions no set in? Has secularization in the form of militant secular humanism now not just taken root in the United States, as it has in Europe, but also starting to bloom?), as well as (at times in a tepid manner, at times overtly) linking the Nones to the Millenials (and thus, crafting a narrative of the current and future decline of organized religion, or at least a lost generation).
But, as I and others have pointed out, maybe this narrative isn't quite what some (in particular as put forth in some sensationalistic journalistic accounts) have made it out to be. Indeed, if you spend time with the Pew study, you quickly find that the Nones they focus on aren't anti-religious at all. And for every story about the decline of a particular church, you also find many that are growing (and full of young families to boot). One of the arguments I tried to make in The Mainline was that we focus, in American Religious History on decline that we often miss out on stories that don't fit that narrative (hence the importance of a new Mainline for the twenty-first century).
No sooner did my most recent post go up Saturday night (where it has helped the blog garner some attention in Latvia apparently -- Es ceru, ka kādu dienu mēs varam apspriest maģistrālēm, un salīdzināt amerikāņu reliģijas vēsturē ar to, kas ir nesalocītā Latvijā.) than Professor Rodney Stark entered the fray. The Baylor University professor has a new book out in which he talks about polls such as the one Pew conducted and why it (and they) may very well be skewed against actually counting the religious voice of the nation. You can read Stark's interview with St. John's University Law School's Center for Law and Religion Forum here. It is well worth the read, and well worth thinking about when it comes to the Nones and everyone else.
But, as I and others have pointed out, maybe this narrative isn't quite what some (in particular as put forth in some sensationalistic journalistic accounts) have made it out to be. Indeed, if you spend time with the Pew study, you quickly find that the Nones they focus on aren't anti-religious at all. And for every story about the decline of a particular church, you also find many that are growing (and full of young families to boot). One of the arguments I tried to make in The Mainline was that we focus, in American Religious History on decline that we often miss out on stories that don't fit that narrative (hence the importance of a new Mainline for the twenty-first century).
No sooner did my most recent post go up Saturday night (where it has helped the blog garner some attention in Latvia apparently -- Es ceru, ka kādu dienu mēs varam apspriest maģistrālēm, un salīdzināt amerikāņu reliģijas vēsturē ar to, kas ir nesalocītā Latvijā.) than Professor Rodney Stark entered the fray. The Baylor University professor has a new book out in which he talks about polls such as the one Pew conducted and why it (and they) may very well be skewed against actually counting the religious voice of the nation. You can read Stark's interview with St. John's University Law School's Center for Law and Religion Forum here. It is well worth the read, and well worth thinking about when it comes to the Nones and everyone else.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Tides of Time
Vacation is a time of rest, relaxation, reflection, and re-invigoration. But that doesn't stop relevant stories from popping up, just me from commentating on them. While I was enjoying good times with good friends and family "Up North" in Michigan (see above), the following came my way -- I was just delayed in offering my two cents. So, here some ramblings from one who is "tanned, rested, and ready" to engage once again!
The first article that came my way was by Rachel Held Evans about why Millennials are leaving churches. Let me start by saying that I enjoy reading her stuff, whether I always agree with it or not. She often asks good questions about American evangelicalism and raises good points that contribute to conversation and soul searching. That being said, and I won't rehash the (at times I think devastating) critiques offered here or here about her article, I will say that I really don't think we know enough about Millennials and their habits/feelings about faith, religion (organized or not), and what not to be writing to deeply about them. Perhaps, that is because (I guess) I am a member of Generation X -- and don't feel all that ready to talk to much about my generation, let alone the one my younger sister, brother, and cousins (again, I guess) belong to. But in our media driven society, I can't say that I'm surprised that based on a few polls and blog posts, this kind of article could be written or have gotten the attention that it has. If you don't believe me, just take the time to read or look at the comments in the three articles linked above. And yet the thing that jumped out at me the most about RHE's article was something I've talked about before when it comes to some in the Emergent Church and their critique of the Religious Right: A surprising amount of naivete when it comes to politics and the culture wars. One of the points RHE makes is that Millennials have been turned off by the culture wars of their parents, but at the same time, she asserts that Millennials want the Church to be active in the pursuit of "social justice." Her chief example of working for social justice (as I read her article) is pushing for the rights of the LGBT community. The problem is that the moment laws become involved or become the goal, you have entered into the world of politics, and hence the very culture war that RHE claims Millennials want no part of. It is, at best, an ill conceived argument, or at least a very under developed one.
The second article that caught my eye was also over a debate, this one over a hymn. The Presbyterian Church (USA) is currently working on a new hymnal and was considering including a song by Keith Getty and Stuart Townend entitled "In Christ Alone." The problem for some members of the committee was a line in which Getty and Townend talk about Christ's death on the cross appeasing the wrath of God for sinners. You can take a look at the full lyrics here. Wanting to include the popular praise and worship song in the hymnal, the committee proposed changing the lyrics to talking about God's love instead. The songwriters said no, word leaked out, and controversy ensued (you can read more here and here). One can see it as either a major change (and thus an attack on the theological message of the song) or a minor one. Either way, the story is a reminder of two major problems for the Mainline of the Seven Sisters: The first is that the inclusion of the song (altered or not) might be seen as an attempt at a "cosmetic change" to attract younger people (such as the Millennials RHE talks about) -- perhaps in a genuine attempt at outreach, perhaps in a somewhat cynical one. The other is that the entire debate speaks (as the linked articles argue) the theological "wishy- washy-ness" of the Seven Sisters, in particular the Presbyterian Church (USA) in this case (one wonders what they would omit if the Westminster Shorter Catechism was proposed today). Or, perhaps John Turner's call to "end the hymnal wars" with the recognition that serving on such a committee to begin with is sure to be a thankless job no matter what your theology is what we should take away from this dust up.
The final article was an interesting one about Pope Francis and the Press. Is it possible, in this day and age to get a religious message out through the secular press? Pope Francis seems to think so. How long this will continue remains to be seen. After all, the press seemed initially reluctant to comment on how many young people showed up for World Youth Day in Brazil. The figure that is now coming out in reports is 3 million. Not to bad for his first such event -- and one that could be even more important in the years to come, not just for Roman Catholicism but also for Christians of whatever denomination.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)