Full disclosure: At least part of my father's family has Lutheran roots. The operative word there is "roots." I did not grow up Lutheran (nor did my dad for that matter, my grandmother had left the Lutheran church she attended as a child before she married my grandfather), and the only times I've been to a Lutheran service has been for weddings, funerals, or for professional reasons. And it is for professional reasons that Lutherans are on my mind today.
Next month will mark two years since the publication of The Mainline. While for me, that will be an important enough milestone, it is nice to know, professionally, that the book is still being read and being reviewed. In the latest issue of Lutheran Quarterly (Spring 2014, pages 457-458), the Reverend Dwight Zscheile of Luther Seminary was kind enough to offer up a review of my book. I was pleased to first hear about the review several months ago, and happy as well to read it. Not only does the Rev. Zscheile provide a very nice summary of the book's contents, but also offers up a sound critique (as a professor who often assigns his students review assignments, it is the kind of review I'd like to see them write).
Part of that critique hints at something I'm planning to address in a later blog post, religious pessimism. In the past year or so, I've seen it crop in a host of articles, mostly centering around the notion that organized religion is in decline (whether liberal or conservative in theology), that the youth (read Millennials) have abandoned the Church, and that assumptions that say the Religious Right held firm to throughout the twentieth century no longer hold true in the twenty-first, not to mention the "evangelical crack-up" that has been reported of late. Indeed, the Rev. Zscheile end's his review with the question "is the concept of a 'majority faith' relevant in twenty-first-century America?"
As I said, that question is one I hope to take up in the weeks ahead (quick answers: the decline might not be as bad or as real as some commentators believe; no, not all Millennials have left the Church; no, the Religious Right isn't dead; the evangelical crack-up is kind of the norm within American evangelicalism; and yes notions of "majority faith" do indeed matter). Instead today, I'll leave you with another line from the Rev. Zscheile's review: "While in some circles, the very premise of Christianity being 'mainline' in any form in twenty-first-century America is hotly contested, Lantzer wants to retain and redefine the term." On that note, he get's it exactly right!
Showing posts with label Religious Right. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Religious Right. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
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?
Friday, July 26, 2013
The Great Divide
This week, in addition to enjoying summer break (personally, with my family as well as professionally, by getting some work done) I have been doing some various blog/article reading on what some might consider to be the Great Divide in American Protestant Religious History of the twentieth century: that between the Religious Left and Religious Right.
Now, this topic is one that I talk a good deal about in The Mainline, so I won't go over what I say there here. Rather, I want to say a few things about what I've been reading as well as touch on something else that this great divide has gotten me thinking about while I soak up the summer sun. First, there are the articles announcing the decline of the Religious Right/resurgence of the Religious Left (which is something I mentioned in the book might happen, and more likely would be something that scholars claimed following the election of President Obama in 2008). There is little doubt that there has been an out pouring of scholarship of late on the Religious Left/Liberal evangelicals (here is a New York Times article about it), and that this is important in its own right, as well as something (from an academic stand point) to be welcomed. Liberal Protestantism does need more study, and doing so might also add more nuance to the discussion of Mainline decline as well as better appreciate the complexities of American Protestantism and how it has related to American culture and politics in the last 50 to 60 years.
That being said, should it be triumphant? Some of this scholarship seems to imply that liberal Protestantism is responsible for the civil rights movement, the Great Society, indeed of "liberalism" in the American political and cultural senses. And at least some recent polls seem to argue that Religious Progressives/Religious Left are growing in the United States and that decline has (at last, some of them say) set into the Religious Right.
It sounds nice, but it falls flat I think. As some of these scholars point out, what they really need to study (and is also perhaps a large flaw in the above argument) is why liberalism continued in American life/culture, but liberal Protestantism did not. But there are other problems with this hypothesis as well, chiefly that it discounts Roman Catholics and their contributions to these projects, it assumes that denominational pronouncements reflect congregational realities, and assumes that religious conservatives did not have a hand in shaping some of these trends as well (not just in terms of opposition, but also in offering different courses to travel the same journey). And as for the triumphant talk based on polls, I will allow others who have read the data do the dissection, here and here. Needless to say, I am not ready to pronounce either the Religious Left triumphant, nor declare the Religious Right dead. Indeed, one of the other articles I have read this week reminded me (and other readers) that the Religious Right has a much longer history than it is sometimes given credit for (and as such, not only is there more study to be done on it, but it probably is stronger than a it is currently being credited for). That complexity, I hope, is something else I touched on in the pages of The Mainline.
So, if none of these articles, as good and as informative as they were -- and whether I agreed with them entirely or not -- was not the sum of my ruminations, then what was? Well, dear reader, like any good inquiry, such reading got me thinking. And what I got to thinking about was whether or not this Great Divide (Left and Right) was worth more ink (at least from me, at least right now), or if there was something else -- right under the surface of these articles/arguments, that demands more attention. If I had limitless time, I might just be pondering if we needed to study a great divide that was greater still than Left and Right in American Religious History, one that as I have thought about it deserves much more attention than either just in passing within larger works or that is largely ignored by focusing on groups/denominational leadership. And that Great Divide is the one between rural, suburban, and urban congregations in the progress of American Religious History, past, present, and future.
Perhaps it is because my son (the younger of my children) asked this week if we lived in a rural place or in the city and my daughter, the older, more experienced one in the ways of the world and social study terminology, was quick to offer (correct) textbook answers. Maybe it was because I read a really great article about American Religious History and Indiana (kudos Elesha Coffman). Perhaps it is because I grew up in a rural community, moved to an urban one, and now reside in a rapidly suburban one. Or maybe it is just because I think increasingly that place matters. Where you are shapes who you are (in both good ways and bad), and shapes what you do while you are there (as my First Year Seminar students learn when I subject them to a professor led campus tour each Fall). The long and the short of it is that I think we might understand the rise/fall/rise (and dare I even argue formulation) of both the Religious Left and the Religious Right better IF we started looking at how rural, suburban, urban impacted the congregations that made up the denominations that came to make up both. It would lead to some interesting questions, like did/do rural Catholics and rural Protestants share the same values/beliefs more so than there urban co-denominationalists? Where are we more apt to find non-denominationalism (and why)? Does having a denominational headquarters (and its location) matter to how representative its pronouncements on issues are?
Those are some of the questions that came to mind as I have dwelt on the topic this week. I think that studying this Great Divide could prove interesting. It might even be more important, in the long run, to understanding what has driven the Mainline of the Seven Sisters, as well as the new one I believe has emerged within American Christianity.
Now, this topic is one that I talk a good deal about in The Mainline, so I won't go over what I say there here. Rather, I want to say a few things about what I've been reading as well as touch on something else that this great divide has gotten me thinking about while I soak up the summer sun. First, there are the articles announcing the decline of the Religious Right/resurgence of the Religious Left (which is something I mentioned in the book might happen, and more likely would be something that scholars claimed following the election of President Obama in 2008). There is little doubt that there has been an out pouring of scholarship of late on the Religious Left/Liberal evangelicals (here is a New York Times article about it), and that this is important in its own right, as well as something (from an academic stand point) to be welcomed. Liberal Protestantism does need more study, and doing so might also add more nuance to the discussion of Mainline decline as well as better appreciate the complexities of American Protestantism and how it has related to American culture and politics in the last 50 to 60 years.
That being said, should it be triumphant? Some of this scholarship seems to imply that liberal Protestantism is responsible for the civil rights movement, the Great Society, indeed of "liberalism" in the American political and cultural senses. And at least some recent polls seem to argue that Religious Progressives/Religious Left are growing in the United States and that decline has (at last, some of them say) set into the Religious Right.
It sounds nice, but it falls flat I think. As some of these scholars point out, what they really need to study (and is also perhaps a large flaw in the above argument) is why liberalism continued in American life/culture, but liberal Protestantism did not. But there are other problems with this hypothesis as well, chiefly that it discounts Roman Catholics and their contributions to these projects, it assumes that denominational pronouncements reflect congregational realities, and assumes that religious conservatives did not have a hand in shaping some of these trends as well (not just in terms of opposition, but also in offering different courses to travel the same journey). And as for the triumphant talk based on polls, I will allow others who have read the data do the dissection, here and here. Needless to say, I am not ready to pronounce either the Religious Left triumphant, nor declare the Religious Right dead. Indeed, one of the other articles I have read this week reminded me (and other readers) that the Religious Right has a much longer history than it is sometimes given credit for (and as such, not only is there more study to be done on it, but it probably is stronger than a it is currently being credited for). That complexity, I hope, is something else I touched on in the pages of The Mainline.
So, if none of these articles, as good and as informative as they were -- and whether I agreed with them entirely or not -- was not the sum of my ruminations, then what was? Well, dear reader, like any good inquiry, such reading got me thinking. And what I got to thinking about was whether or not this Great Divide (Left and Right) was worth more ink (at least from me, at least right now), or if there was something else -- right under the surface of these articles/arguments, that demands more attention. If I had limitless time, I might just be pondering if we needed to study a great divide that was greater still than Left and Right in American Religious History, one that as I have thought about it deserves much more attention than either just in passing within larger works or that is largely ignored by focusing on groups/denominational leadership. And that Great Divide is the one between rural, suburban, and urban congregations in the progress of American Religious History, past, present, and future.
Perhaps it is because my son (the younger of my children) asked this week if we lived in a rural place or in the city and my daughter, the older, more experienced one in the ways of the world and social study terminology, was quick to offer (correct) textbook answers. Maybe it was because I read a really great article about American Religious History and Indiana (kudos Elesha Coffman). Perhaps it is because I grew up in a rural community, moved to an urban one, and now reside in a rapidly suburban one. Or maybe it is just because I think increasingly that place matters. Where you are shapes who you are (in both good ways and bad), and shapes what you do while you are there (as my First Year Seminar students learn when I subject them to a professor led campus tour each Fall). The long and the short of it is that I think we might understand the rise/fall/rise (and dare I even argue formulation) of both the Religious Left and the Religious Right better IF we started looking at how rural, suburban, urban impacted the congregations that made up the denominations that came to make up both. It would lead to some interesting questions, like did/do rural Catholics and rural Protestants share the same values/beliefs more so than there urban co-denominationalists? Where are we more apt to find non-denominationalism (and why)? Does having a denominational headquarters (and its location) matter to how representative its pronouncements on issues are?
Those are some of the questions that came to mind as I have dwelt on the topic this week. I think that studying this Great Divide could prove interesting. It might even be more important, in the long run, to understanding what has driven the Mainline of the Seven Sisters, as well as the new one I believe has emerged within American Christianity.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
DOMA and the Tale of Two Mainlines
Whenever I hand a test back to a class, I invoke the "Lantzer 24 hour Rule" which states that no matter what grade they got, I will not talk to them about their tests until the next day. This allows them to re-read their answers not just in light of their grade but also my comments and to actually stop and think about what it is they've just gotten back. I think that is a good rule in life, not just because I often make snap judgements myself, but because a little reflection usually isn't a bad thing.
As its been over a day since the Supreme Court of the United States struck down the federal Defense of Marriage Act, I've had some time to reflect on what it means when it comes to the Mainline. In large part, I've been thinking about a question one of my students asked of me in my American Religious History class this past spring, right after SCOTUS heard arguments in the case: He asked if the High Court overturned DOMA, did that signal the demise of the Religious Right and the ascent of the Religious Left? As I've thought about it, my answer then was fairly accurate, so I thought I'd expand on it, and share it here.
To begin with, I said, there is much more (despite what some will tell you) to this debate than just religion and morality (as important as it is to some of those involved). Yes, Religious conservatives support DOMA and the traditional definition of marriage being between one man and one woman. And yes, many Religious liberals are arguing against it (more often than not talking about God's love for all humanity and how homosexual marriages can be a reflection of that divine love). But that being said, there are two other areas that are much more significant. The first is politics. Here, we aren't talking about national trends in culture or the make up of Congress, rather the political make up of the High Court. While there is a 5-4 split in Republican/Democratic appointees; on any given issue a coalition of justices can form that can alter that balance (longtime court watchers have long ago concluded that Justice Kennedy enjoys that title and the power that comes with it, see here for example). The other area is law. Not only DOMA itself (a bipartisan law, crafted when Bill Clinton was president), but also complications that have, can, and do arise when non-married partners either break up or have something catastrophic happen (a health care emergency for example) -- legal issues that aren't confined to just homosexual relationships, but have become increasingly prominent in cases over the past decade or so.
Thinking about that first part of my answer now, I should have gone on and done something "political sciencey" and just predicted that DOMA would be overturned. But I'm an historian, so I didn't. But that wasn't the end of my student's question, he had also asked about the ramifications of a DOMA ruling for religious Americans. Already, within that first 24 hours, articles have already appeared from the conservative end of the spectrum (see Christianity Today's excellent editorial here) about what comes next, as well as messages of joy and triumph from those more on the liberal end of the religious (and dare I say probably political) end of the spectrum (see here for what one UCC/Congregational Church did, and here for what the Episcopal Church has said).
But, was the ruling a "victory" for the Religious Left? While it might be spun as such, I would say it was more of a political victory than it was a religious triumph. My reason for saying so boils down to the fact that if we are looking for the origins of this issue as a reform, it did not originate within either the UCC or Episcopal denominations. Was it reflected in those (and other old Seven Sisters Mainline) denominations? Absolutely. But it was just that, a reflection of something that was going on within the wider culture. It is a case of denominations being influenced by culture, not one of denominational influence on that culture. For conservatives (political and religious alike) the ruling is more apt to be seen as further proof of secularization in American society and within (at least some) of America's churches. What does it mean for the new Mainline that I talk about in the last chapter of my book? Well, for that, we will have to wait and see!
That is my thinking some 24 hours on. At the time of the student question though, I raised another point. And that is about marriage itself. Conservatives (religious and political) were defending DOMA. But why? Why were religious people so invested in how the State defined marriage? Perhaps we should be asking why/how the State got that power to begin with. What, historically, had been the difference between "holy matrimony" and "civil marriage" and when/how had those two things been conflated. If, I asked, the Church had (whether by its own will or by the passage of time) allowed the State to take the lead on dealing with the legality of unions, did we have then or now a Church/State issue on our hands? In that same vein, what were to make of divorce (both within the Church, and in the laws of the State)? Was the Church (writ large, and taking into account it is made up individuals who are imperfect) doing a good job when it came to marriage teaching/counseling in general -- considering the oft cited statistic that half of all marriages (between heterosexuals) end in divorce? If DOMA was repealed I asked, and a given church/denomination refused to perform a wedding ceremony for religious reasons (even if the State approved) because the couple in question was homosexual, could that couple then sue for discrimination? Conservatives argued that repealing DOMA would be a slippery slope, that might lead to calls for legalizing polygamy (for example). Were they right? Can we be sure that they are wrong?
My student didn't have any answers to those questions. Neither did, nor do, I. And quite frankly, neither does anyone else. Despite the joyous bell ringing in some circles and the lamentations (or even conviction that the U.S. is now headed to Hell in a hand basket) in others that the DOMA decision prompted, we mere mortals don't know what the future holds. Nor should any of us, Right or Left, old or new Mainline, assume that this decision is the end all be all. As the aforementioned Christianity Today editorial points out, Supreme Court decisions rarely settle any cultural issue (the debate over abortion hasn't exactly ended). And as my fellow NYU author, Prof. Suzanna Danuta Walters, notes here, there are other issues out there that are bigger and even more important thatn marriage equality (she points out HIV/AIDS as one example). Indeed, I'd put the on going IRS audit story and growing NSA leak story as bigger domestic issues (both for the near and long term) than the DOMA decision this summer (the IRS audit of conservative groups has much larger implications both politically and in potential religious liberty issues than does the demise of DOMA I think). At least so far. In the meantime, there is nothing wrong with reflections and asking questions, and we will see where these and other issues take the Mainline -- both old and new.
As its been over a day since the Supreme Court of the United States struck down the federal Defense of Marriage Act, I've had some time to reflect on what it means when it comes to the Mainline. In large part, I've been thinking about a question one of my students asked of me in my American Religious History class this past spring, right after SCOTUS heard arguments in the case: He asked if the High Court overturned DOMA, did that signal the demise of the Religious Right and the ascent of the Religious Left? As I've thought about it, my answer then was fairly accurate, so I thought I'd expand on it, and share it here.
To begin with, I said, there is much more (despite what some will tell you) to this debate than just religion and morality (as important as it is to some of those involved). Yes, Religious conservatives support DOMA and the traditional definition of marriage being between one man and one woman. And yes, many Religious liberals are arguing against it (more often than not talking about God's love for all humanity and how homosexual marriages can be a reflection of that divine love). But that being said, there are two other areas that are much more significant. The first is politics. Here, we aren't talking about national trends in culture or the make up of Congress, rather the political make up of the High Court. While there is a 5-4 split in Republican/Democratic appointees; on any given issue a coalition of justices can form that can alter that balance (longtime court watchers have long ago concluded that Justice Kennedy enjoys that title and the power that comes with it, see here for example). The other area is law. Not only DOMA itself (a bipartisan law, crafted when Bill Clinton was president), but also complications that have, can, and do arise when non-married partners either break up or have something catastrophic happen (a health care emergency for example) -- legal issues that aren't confined to just homosexual relationships, but have become increasingly prominent in cases over the past decade or so.
Thinking about that first part of my answer now, I should have gone on and done something "political sciencey" and just predicted that DOMA would be overturned. But I'm an historian, so I didn't. But that wasn't the end of my student's question, he had also asked about the ramifications of a DOMA ruling for religious Americans. Already, within that first 24 hours, articles have already appeared from the conservative end of the spectrum (see Christianity Today's excellent editorial here) about what comes next, as well as messages of joy and triumph from those more on the liberal end of the religious (and dare I say probably political) end of the spectrum (see here for what one UCC/Congregational Church did, and here for what the Episcopal Church has said).
But, was the ruling a "victory" for the Religious Left? While it might be spun as such, I would say it was more of a political victory than it was a religious triumph. My reason for saying so boils down to the fact that if we are looking for the origins of this issue as a reform, it did not originate within either the UCC or Episcopal denominations. Was it reflected in those (and other old Seven Sisters Mainline) denominations? Absolutely. But it was just that, a reflection of something that was going on within the wider culture. It is a case of denominations being influenced by culture, not one of denominational influence on that culture. For conservatives (political and religious alike) the ruling is more apt to be seen as further proof of secularization in American society and within (at least some) of America's churches. What does it mean for the new Mainline that I talk about in the last chapter of my book? Well, for that, we will have to wait and see!
That is my thinking some 24 hours on. At the time of the student question though, I raised another point. And that is about marriage itself. Conservatives (religious and political) were defending DOMA. But why? Why were religious people so invested in how the State defined marriage? Perhaps we should be asking why/how the State got that power to begin with. What, historically, had been the difference between "holy matrimony" and "civil marriage" and when/how had those two things been conflated. If, I asked, the Church had (whether by its own will or by the passage of time) allowed the State to take the lead on dealing with the legality of unions, did we have then or now a Church/State issue on our hands? In that same vein, what were to make of divorce (both within the Church, and in the laws of the State)? Was the Church (writ large, and taking into account it is made up individuals who are imperfect) doing a good job when it came to marriage teaching/counseling in general -- considering the oft cited statistic that half of all marriages (between heterosexuals) end in divorce? If DOMA was repealed I asked, and a given church/denomination refused to perform a wedding ceremony for religious reasons (even if the State approved) because the couple in question was homosexual, could that couple then sue for discrimination? Conservatives argued that repealing DOMA would be a slippery slope, that might lead to calls for legalizing polygamy (for example). Were they right? Can we be sure that they are wrong?
My student didn't have any answers to those questions. Neither did, nor do, I. And quite frankly, neither does anyone else. Despite the joyous bell ringing in some circles and the lamentations (or even conviction that the U.S. is now headed to Hell in a hand basket) in others that the DOMA decision prompted, we mere mortals don't know what the future holds. Nor should any of us, Right or Left, old or new Mainline, assume that this decision is the end all be all. As the aforementioned Christianity Today editorial points out, Supreme Court decisions rarely settle any cultural issue (the debate over abortion hasn't exactly ended). And as my fellow NYU author, Prof. Suzanna Danuta Walters, notes here, there are other issues out there that are bigger and even more important thatn marriage equality (she points out HIV/AIDS as one example). Indeed, I'd put the on going IRS audit story and growing NSA leak story as bigger domestic issues (both for the near and long term) than the DOMA decision this summer (the IRS audit of conservative groups has much larger implications both politically and in potential religious liberty issues than does the demise of DOMA I think). At least so far. In the meantime, there is nothing wrong with reflections and asking questions, and we will see where these and other issues take the Mainline -- both old and new.
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