Happy 2010! Thanks to all my faithful readers! See you next year, but for now how about a little Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians!
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Daniel Dreisbach, the "Godless Constitution," and Christian America
The guys at American Creation are fired up about an old review posted on the Wallbuilder's website. In case you don't know, Wallbuilders is the website of David Barton, one of the leading advocates of the idea that the United States was founded as a Christian nation. The review in question is Daniel Dreisbach's assessment of Isaac Kramnick and R. Laurence Moore's The Godless Constitution: The Case Against Religious Correctness. Dreisbach is a professor in the School of Public Affairs at American University in Washington D.C. I am a big fan of his work. Earlier this evening Tom Van Dyke posted part of the review at American Creation and the "regulars" over there are chomping at the bit. What a way to spend New Year's Eve!
Dreisbach challenges Kramnick and Moore's view that the Constitution created a secular nation. (In fact, in the most recent edition of their book, the subtitle has been changed to "A Moral Defense of Secular State."). He argues from the position of federalism, or the idea that the framers of the Constitution left matters of religion up to the states. He writes:
The U. S. Constitution's lack of a Christian designation had little to do with a radical secular agenda. Indeed, it had little to do with religion at all. The Constitution was silent on the subject of God and religion because there was a consensus that, despite the framer's personal beliefs, religion was a matter best left to the individual citizens and their respective state governments (and most states in the founding era retained some form of religious establishment). The Constitution, in short, can be fairly characterized as "godless" or secular only insofar as it deferred to the states on all matters regarding religion and devotion to God.
Dreisbach also chides Kramnick and Moore for practicing what he calls "law office history":
The book illustrates what is pejoratively called "law office history." That is, the authors, imbued with the adversary ethic, selectively recount facts, emphasizing data that support their own prepossessions and minimizing significant facts that complicate or conflict with their biases. The professors warn readers of this on the second page when they describe their book as a "polemic" that will " lay out the case for one" side of the debate on the important "role of religion in public and political life."
He concludes:
The suggestion that the U. S. Constitution is godless because it makes only brief mention of the Deity and Christian custom is superficial and misguided. Professors Kramnick and Moore succumb to the temptation to impose twentieth-century values on eighteenth-century text. Their book is less an honest appraisal of history than a partisan tract written for contemporary battles. They frankly state their desire that this polemic will rebut the "Christian nation" rhetoric of the religious right. Unfortunately, their historical analysis is as specious as the rhetoric they criticize.
It is not my intention in this post to argue with either Dreisbach or Kramnick and Moore. I agree with Dreisbach: the framers of the Constitution left religious issues to the states. (See my most recent post on this subject). I also agree with Kramnick and Moore: the United States Constitution is "godless." I have learned a great deal from The Godless Constitution and Dreisbach's Thomas Jefferson and the Wall of Separation Between Church and State.
I am particularly interested in Dreisbach and his work because I have been asked of late to comment on the current debates in Texas over the state social studies standards. (See some of my commentary here). Dreisbach was chosen by the conservative members of the Texas Board of Education to serve as an expert reviewer of the state standards. The other two members chosen by the conservative members of the Texas board were Barton and Massachusetts minister and providential historian Peter Marshall.
When reporters call me, I tell them that Barton and Marshall are not historians or social studies experts and are not qualified to be judging how students in Texas learn history. (Again, I have made my views known on this topic). Yet I always make sure to separate Barton and Marshall from the work of Dreisbach, a legitimate scholar. This is not always easy to do when Dreisbach writes reviews for Barton's website and goes on Barton's radio program. When reporters see this, they tend to clump Dreisbach together with the other two guys.
Yet there are two lines in this review that makes it clear that Dreisbach wants to separate himself from the Christian America crowd.
In the first paragraph, when referring to Kramnick and Moore, Dreisbach writes:
Their argument, while an appealing antidote to the historical assertions of the religious right, is superficial and misleading.
While Dreisbach has a bone to pick with Kramnick and Moore, he also makes it clear that their arguments are an "appealing antidote to the historical assertions of the religious right." Wait a minute--doesn't he have Barton and others like Barton in mind here? Marshall?
And then there is this line in the final paragraph, again making reference to Kramnick and Moore:
They frankly state their desire that this polemic will rebut the "Christian nation" rhetoric of the religious right. Unfortunately, their historical analysis is as specious as the rhetoric they criticize.
Dreisbach is suggesting that the the "Christian nation rhetoric of the religious right" is "specious." Again, a clear statement that he is not on board with Barton.
Dreisbach's attack on Kramnick and Moore's "law-office history" can easily be applied to Barton as well. Barton regularly claims that he approaches the past through a "legal standard" that is "superior" to the way most historians work.
After reading this review closely, one might wonder how Dreisbach's review ended up on the Wallbuilder's website in the first place. Barton is apparently willing to tolerate Dreisbach's references to his "specious" history and his assault on "law-office history" in exchange for Dreisbach's shot at the Kramnick and Moore's Godless constitution.
And now I direct you back to the guys at American Creation where I am sure a spirited and informative debate is going on.
Dreisbach challenges Kramnick and Moore's view that the Constitution created a secular nation. (In fact, in the most recent edition of their book, the subtitle has been changed to "A Moral Defense of Secular State."). He argues from the position of federalism, or the idea that the framers of the Constitution left matters of religion up to the states. He writes:
The U. S. Constitution's lack of a Christian designation had little to do with a radical secular agenda. Indeed, it had little to do with religion at all. The Constitution was silent on the subject of God and religion because there was a consensus that, despite the framer's personal beliefs, religion was a matter best left to the individual citizens and their respective state governments (and most states in the founding era retained some form of religious establishment). The Constitution, in short, can be fairly characterized as "godless" or secular only insofar as it deferred to the states on all matters regarding religion and devotion to God.
Dreisbach also chides Kramnick and Moore for practicing what he calls "law office history":
The book illustrates what is pejoratively called "law office history." That is, the authors, imbued with the adversary ethic, selectively recount facts, emphasizing data that support their own prepossessions and minimizing significant facts that complicate or conflict with their biases. The professors warn readers of this on the second page when they describe their book as a "polemic" that will " lay out the case for one" side of the debate on the important "role of religion in public and political life."
He concludes:
The suggestion that the U. S. Constitution is godless because it makes only brief mention of the Deity and Christian custom is superficial and misguided. Professors Kramnick and Moore succumb to the temptation to impose twentieth-century values on eighteenth-century text. Their book is less an honest appraisal of history than a partisan tract written for contemporary battles. They frankly state their desire that this polemic will rebut the "Christian nation" rhetoric of the religious right. Unfortunately, their historical analysis is as specious as the rhetoric they criticize.
It is not my intention in this post to argue with either Dreisbach or Kramnick and Moore. I agree with Dreisbach: the framers of the Constitution left religious issues to the states. (See my most recent post on this subject). I also agree with Kramnick and Moore: the United States Constitution is "godless." I have learned a great deal from The Godless Constitution and Dreisbach's Thomas Jefferson and the Wall of Separation Between Church and State.
I am particularly interested in Dreisbach and his work because I have been asked of late to comment on the current debates in Texas over the state social studies standards. (See some of my commentary here). Dreisbach was chosen by the conservative members of the Texas Board of Education to serve as an expert reviewer of the state standards. The other two members chosen by the conservative members of the Texas board were Barton and Massachusetts minister and providential historian Peter Marshall.
When reporters call me, I tell them that Barton and Marshall are not historians or social studies experts and are not qualified to be judging how students in Texas learn history. (Again, I have made my views known on this topic). Yet I always make sure to separate Barton and Marshall from the work of Dreisbach, a legitimate scholar. This is not always easy to do when Dreisbach writes reviews for Barton's website and goes on Barton's radio program. When reporters see this, they tend to clump Dreisbach together with the other two guys.
Yet there are two lines in this review that makes it clear that Dreisbach wants to separate himself from the Christian America crowd.
In the first paragraph, when referring to Kramnick and Moore, Dreisbach writes:
Their argument, while an appealing antidote to the historical assertions of the religious right, is superficial and misleading.
While Dreisbach has a bone to pick with Kramnick and Moore, he also makes it clear that their arguments are an "appealing antidote to the historical assertions of the religious right." Wait a minute--doesn't he have Barton and others like Barton in mind here? Marshall?
And then there is this line in the final paragraph, again making reference to Kramnick and Moore:
They frankly state their desire that this polemic will rebut the "Christian nation" rhetoric of the religious right. Unfortunately, their historical analysis is as specious as the rhetoric they criticize.
Dreisbach is suggesting that the the "Christian nation rhetoric of the religious right" is "specious." Again, a clear statement that he is not on board with Barton.
Dreisbach's attack on Kramnick and Moore's "law-office history" can easily be applied to Barton as well. Barton regularly claims that he approaches the past through a "legal standard" that is "superior" to the way most historians work.
After reading this review closely, one might wonder how Dreisbach's review ended up on the Wallbuilder's website in the first place. Barton is apparently willing to tolerate Dreisbach's references to his "specious" history and his assault on "law-office history" in exchange for Dreisbach's shot at the Kramnick and Moore's Godless constitution.
And now I direct you back to the guys at American Creation where I am sure a spirited and informative debate is going on.
The Straight Scoop on the MLA Convention
Over at Brainstorm, William Pannapacker, the newest member of the Chronicle's regular cast of blogging pundits, weighs in on this year's meeting of the Modern Language Association in Philadelphia. I have been a fan of Pannapacker since he began writing columns in the Chronicle under the name "Thomas Hart Benton." (I think he has been at it for about a decade). I have blogged about two of his more recent pieces here and here.
Pannapacker's "Ghost of MLA Future" offers a comical shot at all those English professors who journey to a major U.S. city every holiday break to read papers about everything under the sun. I have always thought of the people who attend the MLA as the "cool" academics as compared to a lot of the frumpy old men who show up for the annual meeting of the American Historical Association. People at the MLA are cutting edge. They talk about "theory." They are up on the latest fashions.
This year's MLA conference included papers on such cool topics as the Coen brothers, comic books, "Fiddler on the Roof," computer games, gay adolescent romance fiction, gender and agency in young adult narratives of teen witches, and even a panel on "rereading Jesus."
But we can trust Pannapacker to cut through all the academic posing and give us the straight scoop on what went on this past week in the City of Brotherly Love. Here is a snippet.
MLA members are easily recognized, like NASCAR Dads. On my way to Philadelphia, I spotted a couple in the Grand Rapids airport, then several more in Detroit. By the time I arrived on Market Street, between Loew's and the Marriott, it was an MLA Mardi Gras, with ID-badge lanyards instead of beads.
Pannapacker's "Ghost of MLA Future" offers a comical shot at all those English professors who journey to a major U.S. city every holiday break to read papers about everything under the sun. I have always thought of the people who attend the MLA as the "cool" academics as compared to a lot of the frumpy old men who show up for the annual meeting of the American Historical Association. People at the MLA are cutting edge. They talk about "theory." They are up on the latest fashions.
This year's MLA conference included papers on such cool topics as the Coen brothers, comic books, "Fiddler on the Roof," computer games, gay adolescent romance fiction, gender and agency in young adult narratives of teen witches, and even a panel on "rereading Jesus."
But we can trust Pannapacker to cut through all the academic posing and give us the straight scoop on what went on this past week in the City of Brotherly Love. Here is a snippet.
MLA members are easily recognized, like NASCAR Dads. On my way to Philadelphia, I spotted a couple in the Grand Rapids airport, then several more in Detroit. By the time I arrived on Market Street, between Loew's and the Marriott, it was an MLA Mardi Gras, with ID-badge lanyards instead of beads.
Apart from the well-known sumptuary regulations requiring that conference-goers dress primarily in black, white, navy, and gray, there were no obvious fashion trends on parade this year. No spiky shoes; no spiky hair. There were even fewer Foucault-clones: The glasses were less teeny; the heads less shaved. Depending on the panel -- and not just ones hosted by the Radical Caucus -- one could almost detect a proletarian feeling, given the number of blue jeans and old sweaters.
Even so, something about MLA people seems dour, almost hostile, to strangers, even though we are members of the same profession. Without a formal introduction, it's hard to make contact with people; they avoid eye contact and do not return smiles, although both are readily available -- if carefully calibrated -- once you are revealed as someone of importance (i.e., someone with a job at a good school, notable publications, or -- at the bottom of pecking order -- media connections).
One trick for appearing to rank higher in the system is to stride around, head held high, talking loudly on your cell phone. It's even better to walk out, huffily, in the middle of a panel discussion, muttering something about your time being wasted. Be sure to slam the door behind you, but not before people can hear you cackling with derision...
Be sure to read the whole piece.
Nostalgia (Or the Lack Thereof) on New Year's Eve
As some of my readers know, I am interested in the history of nostalgia. I have often thought about someday writing a cultural history of homesickness in America.
I spent a lot of time writing about homesickness in The Way of Improvement Leads Home. Philip Vickers Fithian succumbed to this disease multiple times during his short life. Nostalgia, of course, is only possible in a modern society--a society that is constantly moving forward. Progress often leads to longings--sometime painful longings--for worlds that have been lost. Fithian experienced this kind of nostalgia as he traveled on what I have called his "way of improvement."
Harvard psychology professor Daniel Gilbert has a short op-ed in today New York Times on nostalgia. Here it is:
TONIGHT, millions of Americans will raise a glass, sing the only three Scottish words they know and remember the past with an ineffable blend of sadness and delight. Nostalgia has all the hallmarks of a universal emotion, and it is only natural to assume that the yearning for “auld lang syne” that was shared by our grandparents will someday be shared by our grandchildren.
I spent a lot of time writing about homesickness in The Way of Improvement Leads Home. Philip Vickers Fithian succumbed to this disease multiple times during his short life. Nostalgia, of course, is only possible in a modern society--a society that is constantly moving forward. Progress often leads to longings--sometime painful longings--for worlds that have been lost. Fithian experienced this kind of nostalgia as he traveled on what I have called his "way of improvement."
Harvard psychology professor Daniel Gilbert has a short op-ed in today New York Times on nostalgia. Here it is:
TONIGHT, millions of Americans will raise a glass, sing the only three Scottish words they know and remember the past with an ineffable blend of sadness and delight. Nostalgia has all the hallmarks of a universal emotion, and it is only natural to assume that the yearning for “auld lang syne” that was shared by our grandparents will someday be shared by our grandchildren.
But maybe we’ve reached nostalgia’s end. “Nostalgia” — made up of the Greek roots for “suffering” and “return” — is literally a longing for the places of one’s past. And lately, it has become harder and harder to find things to miss about America’s places.
Downtowns were once collections of local businesses that lured us with claims of uniqueness: “Try our homemade pies,” their signs read, or “Best jazz selection in town.” Today, those signs have been replaced by familiar corporate logos that make precisely the opposite claim, promising us the same goods arranged in the same way as they are in every other place. The banks and burritos and baristas on one city block are replicated on the next — and in all the malls, in all the cities, in all the states. Americans can drive from one ocean to the other, stopping every day for the same hamburger and every evening at the same hotel. Traveling in a straight line is no longer much different than traveling in a circle.
When the industrial smoothing of our nation’s once-variegated edges has been fully accomplished, Americans may no longer need to gather at midnight on the last day of the year to yearn for their yesterdays, because wherever they are they will see the landscapes of their youths.
When they remember the Starbucks where they met the one they married or the Gap where they lost the one they didn’t, they will be marinating in memories that happened everywhere but not somewhere, reliving experiences that are located in time but dislocated in space. And when they return to the places where they grew up, or went to school, or fell in love, they may not even notice that the Old Navy has been replaced by an Abercrombie, the Fridays by an Olive Garden and the once-fleeting past by an endless present.
Ours may be the last generation of Americans to suffer for return — to remember events that took place when place still mattered. So tonight let us revel in our nostalgia, and long for the days when longing was easy.
Blogging History at the OAH
J.L. Bell at Boston 1775 reports on a "Blogging History" panel at last year's annual meeting of the Organization of American Historians. I thought it would be interesting to see how well "The Way of Improvement Leads Home" measures up to a couple of the comments about history blogs put forth by the members of this panel.
Larry Cebula of Northwest History notes (as summarized by Bell): "Historians’ blogs have tended to have a predictable life cycle. They start out discussing history and history-writing, shift (especially in 2008) into arguing politics, and end up focusing on the blogger’s personal life." I think the "Way of Improvement Leads Home" does its fare share of history, politics, and the personal (perhaps "professional" is a better term to describe the way I talk about myself here), but I am not sure if I would describe the blog's content in terms of declension as Cebula implies. We have been covering all of these topics from the beginning.
Ari Kelman and Eric Rauchway at The Edge of the American West make a good point about the importance of contributors to group blogs not, as Bell puts it, "stepping on--i.e., posting shortly after-- someone else's post." While "The Way of Improvement Leads Home" is not a group blog, I have often wondered about following one post too quickly with another one. Perhaps my readers could answer this one for me. Am I "stepping on" my own posts?
Larry Cebula of Northwest History notes (as summarized by Bell): "Historians’ blogs have tended to have a predictable life cycle. They start out discussing history and history-writing, shift (especially in 2008) into arguing politics, and end up focusing on the blogger’s personal life." I think the "Way of Improvement Leads Home" does its fare share of history, politics, and the personal (perhaps "professional" is a better term to describe the way I talk about myself here), but I am not sure if I would describe the blog's content in terms of declension as Cebula implies. We have been covering all of these topics from the beginning.
Ari Kelman and Eric Rauchway at The Edge of the American West make a good point about the importance of contributors to group blogs not, as Bell puts it, "stepping on--i.e., posting shortly after-- someone else's post." While "The Way of Improvement Leads Home" is not a group blog, I have often wondered about following one post too quickly with another one. Perhaps my readers could answer this one for me. Am I "stepping on" my own posts?
Eddie Vedder Pays Tribute to Springsteen
Here is more from the tribute to Bruce Springsteen at the Kennedy Center. Check out Eddie Vedder's (front man for Pearl Jam) version of "City of Ruins."
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Interviewing at the AHA: Some General Tips
I have now had two readers ask me to do a post or two about interviewing at the American Historical Association annual meeting. I was unsure if I was really qualified to do this kind of thing, but then my wife reminded me that I have had many, many AHA interviews over the years and might have something worthwhile to say on the subject. I have had interviews at research universities, non Ph.D-granting state schools, liberal arts colleges, and church-related colleges. I have advanced to on-campus interviews in every institutional category and I have not advanced to on-campus interviews in every institutional category. I don't say this to brag, but I do feel that I might be able to offer some advice about interviewing. In addition, I have sat on the "other side of the table" as an AHA interviewer.
I thought I would break this up into several posts. This post will focus on general tips for interviewing. The second post will focus on interviewing for a job at a research university. The third post will deal with interviewing for a job at a teaching college. The fourth post will deal with interviewing for a job at a church-related college, with particular emphasis on evangelical colleges. Hopefully I can complete this series before the AHA meets on January 7th in San Diego. I will do my best.
When it comes to general tips about interviewing, I would direct my readers to Ari Kelman's post at Edge of the American West. It is outstanding-- one of the best things I have read on the subject.
After you get the exciting phone call (or e-mail) inviting you to interview at the AHA, send an e-mail to the head of the search committee with some general questions. (Assuming that they did not already give you this information during the initial contact). You can tell a lot about the department based on the level of professionalism displayed by the head of the search. A good search committee chairperson should answer your questions quickly and thoroughly. Ask which members of the department will be conducting the interview. Ask how long the interview will be. Where will the interview take place? Will it be in a hotel suite or at the job center (affectionately known as the "meat market")? A good search committee chair will leave the door open for you to contact him/her with any additional questions that may arise between the initial contact and the AHA interview. Don't hesitate to take advantage of such offers, but don't appear too needy.
Once you find out who will be doing the interview, start researching. By this point you should have already familiarized yourself with the department web site, but now you want to go a bit deeper. Find out as much as you can about the people who will be seated on the other side of the table. What courses do they teach? (You do not want to propose a course that gets too close to the "turf" of another professor in the department). What are their research interests? (You may want to mention how your work has some theoretical connections to the work of a particular interviewer). All of this stuff is pretty straightforward and most good candidates do not need to be told any of this, but you might be surprised to learn just how many people come to an interview unprepared.
If you can help it, do not arrive at the conference on the day of the interview. You need time to relax in the hotel room, gather your thoughts, recover from jet lag, and get a good night's sleep. Perhaps you may want to catch a session or wander through the book exhibit. I usually spend most of the night before an interview in the hotel room. I order room service (be sure to eat healthy--if sugar makes you dreary, as it does me, don't order desert!), practice my responses to basic questions about teaching and research, and do some last minute research about the department and the interviewers. (If you have to pay $9.95 for Internet access, you may want to consider biting the bullet). I have occasionally gone outside to get some fresh air. A short walk in the general vicinity of the hotel does wonders for clearing the mind. While I know that many like to use the AHA to network and party with friends, the night before the interview is not the time to do this.
While I realize that the AHA offers an opportunity to get a hotel room at a reduced conference rate in a major American city, I am not sure it is a good idea to bring your family with you to the conference, especially if you have kids. You don't need these kinds of extra distractions and worries.
As soon as you arrive at your hotel and after you have unpacked, get a quick "lay of the land." Are you staying in the main conference hotel? Is the job center in your hotel? In the past I have literally walked from my room to the job center so I know exactly where I am going on the day of the interview. Don't underestimate the power of knowing where you are going. It is a great stress-reliever and one less thing to worry about.
I break out a nice suit for the interview. A tie is optional--it all depends on your personal sense of style. (Perhaps a female reader can weigh in with advice on what women should wear to an interview). I make sure all of my clothes are pressed and "ready to go" the night before. I would also recommend getting a haircut before the conference.
The entire interview will revolve around questions related to two themes: teaching and research. (A third theme--institutional fit--will be an important part of interviews with church-related schools. I will comment on this in a later post). How much time the interviewers spend on these themes will depend on the nature of the institution. Again, more on this in future posts.
Try your best to be relaxed during the interview, but not too relaxed. The committee needs to see that you are taking this interview seriously. Sit up straight, shake hands with all the members of the committee, and be sure to look them in the eye. You want to come across as serious, but you also want to smile. Feel free to laugh if you think something that one of the interviewers said is funny. Remember, the committee is not only looking for a good scholar and teacher, they are also looking for a future colleague. They are imagining popping their head into your office for some friendly conversation. Some of these things cannot be taught. Some people have it, some don't.
If you have not already sent the search committee copies of syllabi or scholarly works, bring them with you. When you talk about your research, pull out a copy of an article for each member of the committee and give it to them. As you talk about potential courses, provide them with a sample syllabi. Make sure you have plenty of c.v.'s with you. If your c.v. has changed significantly since you originally applied for the job, make sure that you give the committee an updated version. Having said this, try not to overwhelm the committee with too much paperwork. Save the course evaluations and statement of teaching philosophy. You should have already sent these when you applied.
Search committees, especially those from teaching college or small colleges, want to know that you are interested in the job. Make sure you come across as someone who would be eager to work at the given institution. If you have experience with this kind of institution or might connect in a unique way with the student body, feel free to bring this up. For example, if the school attracts a lot of working-class or first-generation college students and you were raised in a working-class family or were a first-generation college student, you should look for a chance to mention this.
When you leave the interview, make sure you are clear on the "timetable." When will you hear back from them with a decision? A good search committee will tell you this without you having to ask.
When the interview is finished, and this is your last interview, go have fun. If you have more interviews, go back and prepare for the next one. If you have more than one interview, your last one will probably be the best. You will learn from your previous mistakes and your answers to basic questions will be sharper.
As soon as you get home, send a thank-you note to the chair of the search committee. (You may also want to send one to the other members of the committee as well). I like to send a "snail-mail" note rather than an e-mail. It is a nice touch.
Stay tuned for our next installment: Interviewing with the research university.
I thought I would break this up into several posts. This post will focus on general tips for interviewing. The second post will focus on interviewing for a job at a research university. The third post will deal with interviewing for a job at a teaching college. The fourth post will deal with interviewing for a job at a church-related college, with particular emphasis on evangelical colleges. Hopefully I can complete this series before the AHA meets on January 7th in San Diego. I will do my best.
When it comes to general tips about interviewing, I would direct my readers to Ari Kelman's post at Edge of the American West. It is outstanding-- one of the best things I have read on the subject.
After you get the exciting phone call (or e-mail) inviting you to interview at the AHA, send an e-mail to the head of the search committee with some general questions. (Assuming that they did not already give you this information during the initial contact). You can tell a lot about the department based on the level of professionalism displayed by the head of the search. A good search committee chairperson should answer your questions quickly and thoroughly. Ask which members of the department will be conducting the interview. Ask how long the interview will be. Where will the interview take place? Will it be in a hotel suite or at the job center (affectionately known as the "meat market")? A good search committee chair will leave the door open for you to contact him/her with any additional questions that may arise between the initial contact and the AHA interview. Don't hesitate to take advantage of such offers, but don't appear too needy.
Once you find out who will be doing the interview, start researching. By this point you should have already familiarized yourself with the department web site, but now you want to go a bit deeper. Find out as much as you can about the people who will be seated on the other side of the table. What courses do they teach? (You do not want to propose a course that gets too close to the "turf" of another professor in the department). What are their research interests? (You may want to mention how your work has some theoretical connections to the work of a particular interviewer). All of this stuff is pretty straightforward and most good candidates do not need to be told any of this, but you might be surprised to learn just how many people come to an interview unprepared.
If you can help it, do not arrive at the conference on the day of the interview. You need time to relax in the hotel room, gather your thoughts, recover from jet lag, and get a good night's sleep. Perhaps you may want to catch a session or wander through the book exhibit. I usually spend most of the night before an interview in the hotel room. I order room service (be sure to eat healthy--if sugar makes you dreary, as it does me, don't order desert!), practice my responses to basic questions about teaching and research, and do some last minute research about the department and the interviewers. (If you have to pay $9.95 for Internet access, you may want to consider biting the bullet). I have occasionally gone outside to get some fresh air. A short walk in the general vicinity of the hotel does wonders for clearing the mind. While I know that many like to use the AHA to network and party with friends, the night before the interview is not the time to do this.
While I realize that the AHA offers an opportunity to get a hotel room at a reduced conference rate in a major American city, I am not sure it is a good idea to bring your family with you to the conference, especially if you have kids. You don't need these kinds of extra distractions and worries.
As soon as you arrive at your hotel and after you have unpacked, get a quick "lay of the land." Are you staying in the main conference hotel? Is the job center in your hotel? In the past I have literally walked from my room to the job center so I know exactly where I am going on the day of the interview. Don't underestimate the power of knowing where you are going. It is a great stress-reliever and one less thing to worry about.
I break out a nice suit for the interview. A tie is optional--it all depends on your personal sense of style. (Perhaps a female reader can weigh in with advice on what women should wear to an interview). I make sure all of my clothes are pressed and "ready to go" the night before. I would also recommend getting a haircut before the conference.
The entire interview will revolve around questions related to two themes: teaching and research. (A third theme--institutional fit--will be an important part of interviews with church-related schools. I will comment on this in a later post). How much time the interviewers spend on these themes will depend on the nature of the institution. Again, more on this in future posts.
Try your best to be relaxed during the interview, but not too relaxed. The committee needs to see that you are taking this interview seriously. Sit up straight, shake hands with all the members of the committee, and be sure to look them in the eye. You want to come across as serious, but you also want to smile. Feel free to laugh if you think something that one of the interviewers said is funny. Remember, the committee is not only looking for a good scholar and teacher, they are also looking for a future colleague. They are imagining popping their head into your office for some friendly conversation. Some of these things cannot be taught. Some people have it, some don't.
If you have not already sent the search committee copies of syllabi or scholarly works, bring them with you. When you talk about your research, pull out a copy of an article for each member of the committee and give it to them. As you talk about potential courses, provide them with a sample syllabi. Make sure you have plenty of c.v.'s with you. If your c.v. has changed significantly since you originally applied for the job, make sure that you give the committee an updated version. Having said this, try not to overwhelm the committee with too much paperwork. Save the course evaluations and statement of teaching philosophy. You should have already sent these when you applied.
Search committees, especially those from teaching college or small colleges, want to know that you are interested in the job. Make sure you come across as someone who would be eager to work at the given institution. If you have experience with this kind of institution or might connect in a unique way with the student body, feel free to bring this up. For example, if the school attracts a lot of working-class or first-generation college students and you were raised in a working-class family or were a first-generation college student, you should look for a chance to mention this.
When you leave the interview, make sure you are clear on the "timetable." When will you hear back from them with a decision? A good search committee will tell you this without you having to ask.
When the interview is finished, and this is your last interview, go have fun. If you have more interviews, go back and prepare for the next one. If you have more than one interview, your last one will probably be the best. You will learn from your previous mistakes and your answers to basic questions will be sharper.
As soon as you get home, send a thank-you note to the chair of the search committee. (You may also want to send one to the other members of the committee as well). I like to send a "snail-mail" note rather than an e-mail. It is a nice touch.
Stay tuned for our next installment: Interviewing with the research university.
More on Religion and the Historical Profession
Last week I wrote about the revival of interest in religion among professional historians. A recent study by the American Historical Association has shown that religion is the most studied topic among its members.
Immanent Frame is running a forum exploring this so-called "religious revival." The participants are Jon Butler, David Hollinger, John Schmalzbauer, Jonathan Sheehan, and Grant Wacker. Each participant was asked to explain why religion has captured the attention of so many historians.
Here is a summary:
Butler: Religion is hot because the "secularization thesis" cannot explain recent world history. Religion has also built off of solid work in intellectual history by scholars such as Patrick Allitt, Natalie Zemon Davis, and Richard Fox. He also credits various Pew and Lilly-funded initiatives that have promoted this kind of scholarship, particularly in the area of American history.
Hollinger: Praises the fact that "the religious" are no longer the only ones writing "religious history." (I agree with Hollinger, but I think his piece neglects the fact that most of the best scholarship on religion in history, especially in American history, is done by people who are religious or at least sympathetic to the traditions that they study).
Schmalzbauer: Warns that we can make too much of this "religious revival" in the historical profession. He writes: "According to the American Historical Association survey, just 7.7 percent of historians expressed an interest in religion. In other disciplines, the proportion is even smaller. If there is a comeback of religion (and I believe there is), it is limited in its size and scope."
Sheehan: Discusses the emergence of "religious history" as a distinct field of study amid the general decline of social and cultural history.
Wacker: Religion is growing in the historical profession because of its growing role in public life, the resistance of religion in the midst of secularizing forces, and the emergence of a distinguished group of religious historians who have brought the subject into the mainstream of history.
Immanent Frame is running a forum exploring this so-called "religious revival." The participants are Jon Butler, David Hollinger, John Schmalzbauer, Jonathan Sheehan, and Grant Wacker. Each participant was asked to explain why religion has captured the attention of so many historians.
Here is a summary:
Butler: Religion is hot because the "secularization thesis" cannot explain recent world history. Religion has also built off of solid work in intellectual history by scholars such as Patrick Allitt, Natalie Zemon Davis, and Richard Fox. He also credits various Pew and Lilly-funded initiatives that have promoted this kind of scholarship, particularly in the area of American history.
Hollinger: Praises the fact that "the religious" are no longer the only ones writing "religious history." (I agree with Hollinger, but I think his piece neglects the fact that most of the best scholarship on religion in history, especially in American history, is done by people who are religious or at least sympathetic to the traditions that they study).
Schmalzbauer: Warns that we can make too much of this "religious revival" in the historical profession. He writes: "According to the American Historical Association survey, just 7.7 percent of historians expressed an interest in religion. In other disciplines, the proportion is even smaller. If there is a comeback of religion (and I believe there is), it is limited in its size and scope."
Sheehan: Discusses the emergence of "religious history" as a distinct field of study amid the general decline of social and cultural history.
Wacker: Religion is growing in the historical profession because of its growing role in public life, the resistance of religion in the midst of secularizing forces, and the emergence of a distinguished group of religious historians who have brought the subject into the mainstream of history.
Maybe America Was Meant to be a Christian Nation After All
This morning I was reading an old news story about a newly elected councilman in Asheville, North Carolina who refused to say "so help me God" or place his hand on the Bible during his swearing in ceremony. The man in question--Cecil Bothwell--is an atheist. Unfortunately for him, the North Carolina constitution (written in 1868) disqualifies from public office "any person who shall deny the being of Almighty God." As you might imagine, conservative Christians are invoking this clause to remove Bothwell from office.
As it turns out, there are six other states that require officeholders to believe in God. They are Arkansas, Maryland, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Texas. My favorite is the Texas state constitution, which states:
No religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office, or public trust, in this State; nor shall any one be excluded from holding office on account of his religious sentiments, provided he acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being.
What?
Actually, these state constitutions are quite liberal when compared to the religious restrictions placed on officeholders in some of the original state constitutions. For example:
The 1776 Pennsylvania state constitution required officeholders to subscribe to the following declaration: "I do believe in one God, the creator and governor of the universe, the rewarder to the good and the punisher of the wicked. And I do acknowledge the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament to be given by Divine inspiration." When the constitution was revised in 1790, the language was toned down a bit to limit office holding to those who acknowledge "the being of God, and a future state of rewards and punishments."
Or consider Vermont. Today's Green Mountain State liberals might be surprised to learn that the original 1777 Vermont constitution declared that all citizens of the state "have a natural and unalienable right to worship ALMIGHTY GOD, according to the dictates of their own consciences and understanding, regulated by the word of GOD." It also secured basic civil rights to anyone who "professes the protestant religion." It further noted that "every sect or denomination of people ought to observe the Sabbath, or the Lord's day, and keep up, and support, some sort of religious worship, which to them shall seem most agreeable to the revealed will of GOD." Finally, officeholders in Vermont had to make the following affirmation: "I believe in one God, the Creator and Governor of the universe, the rewarder of the good and punisher of the wicked. And I do acknowledge the scriptures of the old and new testament to be given by divine inspiration, and own and profess the protestant religion." When the constitution was amended in 1786 and a new constitution was written in 1793 (following Vermont's entrance into the Union), all of these religious provisions remained in place.
Only Virginia and New York did not place any religious restrictions on officeholders.
It is clear that most of these original state constitutions privileged Christianity and, in many cases, Protestantism.
How do these state constitutions fit into the larger debate over whether or not the United States was founded as a Christian nation?
It would seem that those who argue for a "Christian America" based on the Christian nature of the state constitutions have a pretty good argument. While the United States Constitution says that there can be no religious tests for office-holding (Article 6) and the First Amendment forbids a religious establishment and secures religious freedom for all, it is quite obvious that none of these restrictions applied to the individual states. As a principle of federalism, the states were given the authority to handle the relationship between church and government in their own way. Massachusetts and Connecticut, for example, upheld religious establishments well into the nineteenth century.
Those who want to debate whether or not America was founded as a "Christian nation" have fought long and hard over what makes a nation "Christian," but they say very little about what constitutes a "nation." For example, is the "nation" called the "United States of America" defined by the United States Constitution? If so, then one would be hard pressed to say that the framers wanted to establish a uniquely "Christian" nation.
But to what extent did the Constitution really serve as a marker of national identity in the eighteenth century?
In one of my favorite historical articles, "A Roof Without Walls": The Dilemma of American National Identity," Princeton historian John Murrin argues that the Constitution provided a very weak form of nationalism because it could not overcome the individual identities, rooted in colonial history, of the states. "In a word," Murrin writes, "the Constitution became a substitute for any deeper kind of national identity. American nationalism is distinct because, for nearly its first century, it was narrowly and peculiarly constitutional. People knew that without the Constitution, there would be no America." In other words, "Americans had erected their constitutional roof before they put up the national walls."
If Murrin is right, and the Constitution failed to create a strong or "deep" sense of nationalism, then the people would continue, as they did under the Articles of Confederation, to find their most meaningful and important sense of political connection to the states in which they lived. And most of these states privileged Christianity in a way that many of today's conservative Christians would welcome.
So let's go back to the original question: Was American founded as a Christian nation? I would hesitate to say "yes" to this question because not all of the states had Christian establishments or forbade non-Protestant Christians from holding office (see Virginia and New York), but it would seem to me that the early republic was closer to being a Christian "nation" than some might be willing to admit.
As it turns out, there are six other states that require officeholders to believe in God. They are Arkansas, Maryland, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Texas. My favorite is the Texas state constitution, which states:
No religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office, or public trust, in this State; nor shall any one be excluded from holding office on account of his religious sentiments, provided he acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being.
What?
Actually, these state constitutions are quite liberal when compared to the religious restrictions placed on officeholders in some of the original state constitutions. For example:
The 1776 Pennsylvania state constitution required officeholders to subscribe to the following declaration: "I do believe in one God, the creator and governor of the universe, the rewarder to the good and the punisher of the wicked. And I do acknowledge the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament to be given by Divine inspiration." When the constitution was revised in 1790, the language was toned down a bit to limit office holding to those who acknowledge "the being of God, and a future state of rewards and punishments."
Or consider Vermont. Today's Green Mountain State liberals might be surprised to learn that the original 1777 Vermont constitution declared that all citizens of the state "have a natural and unalienable right to worship ALMIGHTY GOD, according to the dictates of their own consciences and understanding, regulated by the word of GOD." It also secured basic civil rights to anyone who "professes the protestant religion." It further noted that "every sect or denomination of people ought to observe the Sabbath, or the Lord's day, and keep up, and support, some sort of religious worship, which to them shall seem most agreeable to the revealed will of GOD." Finally, officeholders in Vermont had to make the following affirmation: "I believe in one God, the Creator and Governor of the universe, the rewarder of the good and punisher of the wicked. And I do acknowledge the scriptures of the old and new testament to be given by divine inspiration, and own and profess the protestant religion." When the constitution was amended in 1786 and a new constitution was written in 1793 (following Vermont's entrance into the Union), all of these religious provisions remained in place.
Only Virginia and New York did not place any religious restrictions on officeholders.
It is clear that most of these original state constitutions privileged Christianity and, in many cases, Protestantism.
How do these state constitutions fit into the larger debate over whether or not the United States was founded as a Christian nation?
It would seem that those who argue for a "Christian America" based on the Christian nature of the state constitutions have a pretty good argument. While the United States Constitution says that there can be no religious tests for office-holding (Article 6) and the First Amendment forbids a religious establishment and secures religious freedom for all, it is quite obvious that none of these restrictions applied to the individual states. As a principle of federalism, the states were given the authority to handle the relationship between church and government in their own way. Massachusetts and Connecticut, for example, upheld religious establishments well into the nineteenth century.
Those who want to debate whether or not America was founded as a "Christian nation" have fought long and hard over what makes a nation "Christian," but they say very little about what constitutes a "nation." For example, is the "nation" called the "United States of America" defined by the United States Constitution? If so, then one would be hard pressed to say that the framers wanted to establish a uniquely "Christian" nation.
But to what extent did the Constitution really serve as a marker of national identity in the eighteenth century?
In one of my favorite historical articles, "A Roof Without Walls": The Dilemma of American National Identity," Princeton historian John Murrin argues that the Constitution provided a very weak form of nationalism because it could not overcome the individual identities, rooted in colonial history, of the states. "In a word," Murrin writes, "the Constitution became a substitute for any deeper kind of national identity. American nationalism is distinct because, for nearly its first century, it was narrowly and peculiarly constitutional. People knew that without the Constitution, there would be no America." In other words, "Americans had erected their constitutional roof before they put up the national walls."
If Murrin is right, and the Constitution failed to create a strong or "deep" sense of nationalism, then the people would continue, as they did under the Articles of Confederation, to find their most meaningful and important sense of political connection to the states in which they lived. And most of these states privileged Christianity in a way that many of today's conservative Christians would welcome.
So let's go back to the original question: Was American founded as a Christian nation? I would hesitate to say "yes" to this question because not all of the states had Christian establishments or forbade non-Protestant Christians from holding office (see Virginia and New York), but it would seem to me that the early republic was closer to being a Christian "nation" than some might be willing to admit.
Garrison Keillor on "Paradise"
Garrison Keillor has a great column in today's Chicago Tribune (I am sure it is syndicated elsewhere, but I read it in the Tribune) in which he takes a nice shot at all those folks (including himself) basking in the sun in Florida for the holidays. Here are a few snippets:The problem with paradise is that it's temporary: You don't belong here and the neighbors are nobody you care to know, so it's only blissful for a week or so. You're in a city built on sandy marsh in a boom period, and when you look around at the freeway, the office parks, the malls, the curvy streets of houses, your hotel, you see nothing that predates 1980, nothing that distinguishes this city from Scottsdale or Fort Lauderdale or any other suburb in America, which is exhilarating to some people but not to you. And the people around you are all in the throes of relaxation.
What we talk about up north in December is the existence of God, but I don't sense much theology here in paradise, just a large sense of entitlement. Up north, you talk about God because life is brutal when the wind blows hard. You need a reason to keep trudging forward across the frozen tundra. The fundamental religion of most of mankind is the faith that God has revealed Himself to us and not to the barbarians. Our tribe is the one God chose and so if we vanquish the other tribes and rain fire and destruction on them, we're only carrying out God's Will. There is a countervailing faith that says that God is in and of the world and has bestowed vast gifts to be shared with others, and that our understanding of God is faint and incomplete and so we should walk softly and not assume too much.
When I'm up north, I naturally tend toward the warrior view, believing myself to be one of the Chosen, the select few to whom The Great Giver of Truth has vouchsafed the sacred secrets, but now, in the suburban tropics, eating blackened grouper under the southern moon, I am sliding into hedonistic pantheism, slouching down the coast of Florida toward Key West, on a quest to make my wife and daughter happy until the money runs out and we regain our senses and head home. More certitude next week. Meanwhile, Happy 2010, dear reader. I lift a glass of sparkling water to you.
Jon Stewart, Sting Honor Springsteen at Kennedy Center
In case you missed it last night, CBS ran the 2009 Kennedy Center Honors from earlier this month. Bruce Springsteen was one of the honorees. Jon Stewart began the tribute to Springsteen with a hilarious and powerful introduction which was followed by performances of Springsteen songs by the likes of Eddie Vedder, Melissa Ethridge, and John Mellencamp. Here is a clip, featuring Stewart's monologue and Sting's incredible performance of "The Rising." Enjoy
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Anyone Going to the AHA? A Call for Correspondents
The annual meeting of the American Historical Association will be held January 7-10 in San Diego. I will not be going this year, but I want to cover the conference on the blog.I am looking for readers of "The Way of Improvement Leads Home" who are going to the conference and might be interested in serving as "correspondents." I can't pay anything, but I can promise the fame associated with your words and by-line appearing on this blog!
If you are interested, feel free to shoot me an e-mail at jfea(at)messiah(dot)edu or else just send me a post about the conference if the spirit moves you to write one. (If you want to remain anonymous just let me know).
I am particularly interested in posts related to the themes of this blog--early American history, American religious history, religion and politics, the teaching of history, and the historical profession (including war stories from the job market).
Thanks for considering this.
John
An American Saint
Christianity Today's blog is running a short interview with John Wigger, the author of American Saint: Francis Asbury and the Methodists. Wigger, who teaches at the University of Missouri, is one of the foremost authorities on early American Methodism. I highly recommend his book Taking Heaven By Storm: Methodism and the Rise of Popular Christianity in America.I have yet to read Wigger' biography of Asbury, but I have been waiting for its arrival for some time now. Here is a glimpse of the interview:
You use the contentious s-word in describing Asbury. What was really saintly about him?
Asbury didn't think of himself as particularly holy. But other people did. Living the same life as Methodism's circuit riders, he spent most days in other people's homes during his 45 years in America. He lived under intense scrutiny, and in the end people had very little bad to say about him.
He prayed frequently, getting up at 4 or 5 A.M. many mornings for private prayer, and then joining with his host families for evening prayer. He lived in voluntary poverty, dressing cheaply, even buying the cheapest saddles despite the huge amount of time he spent on horseback. He gave away almost all the money that ever came his way. He relentlessly pushed himself in the service of the gospel, even in his later years when he suffered progressively worsening congestive heart failure, which made his feet so sore he sometimes had to be carried from his horse to the pulpit.
No one believed that Asbury was perfect, and even his greatest supporters admitted that he made mistakes in running the church. Though not an autocrat, he did guard his episcopal authority, which opened him up to criticism. He was so well loved that we know of at least 1,000 children named after him. But he continued to be afraid of rejection. So when he was in settings he found intimidating, he could seem aloof, even harsh.
Here is another interview with Wigger.This looks like a must read for anyone interested in early American religion or the early republic.
Os Guinness: What is an Evangelical?
It seems that I have been barking up the Francis Schaeffer "family tree" of late. Before Christmas, I wrote about Frank Schaeffer's (Francis's son) new book and his critique of evangelicalism. Today I want to say a few words about one of Schaeffer's most prominent disciples--Os Guinness.
I have actually read more of Os Guinness's work than I have Francis Schaeffer's. In divinity school I worked my through The Dust of Death and learned from a fellow student (John Ramer, are you out there?) about how Guinness outlined the entire book on the bottom of a bunk-bed while working at Schaeffer's L'Abri. Around the same time I also read The American Hour. And last year, while teaching the "Vocation" unit in Messiah College's "Created and Called for Community" course, I read The Call.
All of this to say that I know a bit about Guinness and I like a lot of what he writes. But I have never met him and have never thought of myself as part of his circle of intellectual disciples.
Thus, as a quasi-Guinness fan, I enjoyed Nathan Martin's recent interview with him at the First Things "Evangel" blog.
Here are some themes from the interview:
On the roots of evangelicalism: Guinness rightly traces the movement back to the eighteenth century and men such as John Wesley, William Wilberforce and John Wesley.
On people leaving evangelicalism: Too often, Guinness notes, people leave evangelicalism for political or cultural reasons. In other words, they do not like televangelists or the Religious Right so they abandon ship. He describes such reasons for leaving as "ridiculous." Those who are embarrassed by the politics of evangelicalism or the culture of evangelicalism should not leave the movement, but seek to reform it.
On defining evangelicalism: "Evangelicalism is primarily theological and spiritual; people who define themselves and their lives and their faith by the good news of the announcement of the kingdom by Jesus of Nazareth. That is the historical and theological definition, if it was only this miserable cultural business, I wouldn’t be an Evangelical."
On the differences between Evangelicalism, Catholicism, and Orthodoxy: Guinness embraces a C.S. Lewis "mere Christianity" view of being a Christian. In other words, he embraces Catholics and Orthodox Christians who recognize "Jesus as Lord." But he also believes that the "Evangelical impulse is deeper" than Catholicism and Orthodoxy because evangelicalism is always challenging corruption, formality, and heresy in the Church by going "back to Jesus."
On the Williamsburg Charter: Guinness's 1988 reaffirmation of the First Amendment, a document that set forth "a political framework of rights, responsibilities and respect for people of all faiths," has led to threats on his life from Christians who do not believe freedom of conscience should be afforded to atheists or Muslims.
On evangelical responses to Barack Obama: The failure of the Religious Right in the recent presidential election has led to a "sullen, angry populism that is really anti-Christian."
On being "post-evangelical": "If someone is an ex-Evangelical, in other words, they once were an Evangelical, but no longer are, then terrific. At least they're honest enough to say so, I mean that's sad, but they're honest. To be a post-Evangelical says nothing. What are they, positively? Are they liberal Christians, catholic Christians, orthodox Christians, neo-Orthodox, what are they? Post-Evangelical just says what they were, it says nothing about who they are. All the post-y terms are useless." He also describes the entire "post-Evangelical" movement as "absolutely ludicrous
I think that Guinness's definition of evangelicalism is one that I can honestly embrace.
I have actually read more of Os Guinness's work than I have Francis Schaeffer's. In divinity school I worked my through The Dust of Death and learned from a fellow student (John Ramer, are you out there?) about how Guinness outlined the entire book on the bottom of a bunk-bed while working at Schaeffer's L'Abri. Around the same time I also read The American Hour. And last year, while teaching the "Vocation" unit in Messiah College's "Created and Called for Community" course, I read The Call.
All of this to say that I know a bit about Guinness and I like a lot of what he writes. But I have never met him and have never thought of myself as part of his circle of intellectual disciples.
Thus, as a quasi-Guinness fan, I enjoyed Nathan Martin's recent interview with him at the First Things "Evangel" blog.
Here are some themes from the interview:
On the roots of evangelicalism: Guinness rightly traces the movement back to the eighteenth century and men such as John Wesley, William Wilberforce and John Wesley.
On people leaving evangelicalism: Too often, Guinness notes, people leave evangelicalism for political or cultural reasons. In other words, they do not like televangelists or the Religious Right so they abandon ship. He describes such reasons for leaving as "ridiculous." Those who are embarrassed by the politics of evangelicalism or the culture of evangelicalism should not leave the movement, but seek to reform it.
On defining evangelicalism: "Evangelicalism is primarily theological and spiritual; people who define themselves and their lives and their faith by the good news of the announcement of the kingdom by Jesus of Nazareth. That is the historical and theological definition, if it was only this miserable cultural business, I wouldn’t be an Evangelical."
On the differences between Evangelicalism, Catholicism, and Orthodoxy: Guinness embraces a C.S. Lewis "mere Christianity" view of being a Christian. In other words, he embraces Catholics and Orthodox Christians who recognize "Jesus as Lord." But he also believes that the "Evangelical impulse is deeper" than Catholicism and Orthodoxy because evangelicalism is always challenging corruption, formality, and heresy in the Church by going "back to Jesus."
On the Williamsburg Charter: Guinness's 1988 reaffirmation of the First Amendment, a document that set forth "a political framework of rights, responsibilities and respect for people of all faiths," has led to threats on his life from Christians who do not believe freedom of conscience should be afforded to atheists or Muslims.
On evangelical responses to Barack Obama: The failure of the Religious Right in the recent presidential election has led to a "sullen, angry populism that is really anti-Christian."
On being "post-evangelical": "If someone is an ex-Evangelical, in other words, they once were an Evangelical, but no longer are, then terrific. At least they're honest enough to say so, I mean that's sad, but they're honest. To be a post-Evangelical says nothing. What are they, positively? Are they liberal Christians, catholic Christians, orthodox Christians, neo-Orthodox, what are they? Post-Evangelical just says what they were, it says nothing about who they are. All the post-y terms are useless." He also describes the entire "post-Evangelical" movement as "absolutely ludicrous
I think that Guinness's definition of evangelicalism is one that I can honestly embrace.
$21.33 for The Way of Improvement Leads Home!
If you not yet purchased your copy of the award-winning The Way of Improvement Leads Home, Amazon is selling the paperback edition at an all-time low price of $21.33. (It is also eligible for free shipping!).This deal is too hard to pass up! Get your copy now!
When I checked the site today, I also noticed that we had four reviews! If you have read the book and feel led to write a short review on Amazon, I will be forever in your debt!
OK--the blatant self-promotion is now over. I promise my next post will have nothing to do with The Way of Improvement Leads Home or Philip Vickers Fithian! Thank for your patience.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Was There a "Culture War" Ceasefire in 2009?
In E.J. Dionne's Christmas Eve column he argued that the religious culture wars in America had experienced a "ceasefire" in 2009.
Yes, we continued to fight over gay marriage, and arguments about abortion were a feature of the health-care debate. But what's more striking is that other issues -- notably economics and the role of government -- trumped culture and religion in the public square. The culture wars went into recession along with the economy.
Yes, we continued to fight over gay marriage, and arguments about abortion were a feature of the health-care debate. But what's more striking is that other issues -- notably economics and the role of government -- trumped culture and religion in the public square. The culture wars went into recession along with the economy.
The most important transformation occurred on the right end of politics. For now, the loudest and most activist sections of the conservative cause are not its religious voices but the mostly secular, anti-government tea party activists.
I think Dionne is right in suggesting that anti-government activism trumped moral/religious activism this year. But I also think that Dionne draws a false dichotomy between "religious voices" and "secular, anti-government" voices.
As I have argued elsewhere, many on the Christian Right embrace free-market, limited government ideals as part of their overall world view. I spend a lot of time with conservative Christians and most of them do not like Obama because he supports abortion, gay marriage, AND an active role for government. Many tea party activists are conservative Christians. The Christian Right promotes tea parties.
Economics and the role of government may have trumped religion and culture this year, but many of the agitators remain the same.
Why the Liberal Arts are "Alive and Well."
Are the liberal arts in jeopardy during these tough economic times? Mary Marcy, the provost at Bard College, does not think so. In her Inside Higher Ed article, "Alive and Well," Marcy writes:
As students swell the ranks of community colleges, the presumption is that readily identifiable and employable skills rather than broad and deep learning are the primary focus of their educational ambitions. But in the case of the liberal arts, conventional wisdom is at odds with what experience and current data suggest. For example, the benchmark freshmen surveys conducted each year by UCLA’s Higher Education Research Institute show an increasing appetite for the kind of educational experience typically associated with the liberal arts. In 2008, for the first time since 1982, more than 50 percent of first year students identified “developing a meaningful philosophy of life” as an important or very important goal of their college experience.
Marcy offers two major reasons for the "gap between conventional wisdom and student decision making." First, more students are realizing that "the separation of liberal arts education from employment is simply unfounded." She writes:
Employers consistently say that they want to hire graduates who can write and speak clearly, who are innovative and critical thinkers, and who are sophisticated and comfortable with diversity. While not exclusively the domain of liberal education, these traits are certainly cultivated in a liberal arts environment.
Second, college students are less materialistic:
Today’s traditional college age population is more globally-minded, less interested in work as a means only to material success, more willing to find middle ground on issues that typically lead to bi-modal responses (such as abortion), and entirely comfortable with differences in race, gender, and sexual orientation.
Marcy concludes the piece by challenging liberal arts colleges to combine what they do well--teaching students to think critically and pursue a meaningful life--with the new changes in technology growing up around them.
Students expect fully contemporary technological resources, even as they seek the depth and meaning promised by a liberal arts education. The practical and financial challenge is to secure the necessary technological resources and fully integrate them into a sophisticated liberal arts education.
While I agree entirely with Marcy, I wonder how all of the benefits of a liberal arts education might be more effectively communicated to students and their parents. Most of the parents of potential college students who I talk to still want to know what their son or daughter might "do with" a liberal arts education. This is a fair question. With rising college tuition costs, it is logical for parents to wonder how their tuition money will contribute to the financial success of their child. The notion that a liberal arts education will allow their son or daughter to pursue a more meaningful life or develop solid writing, reading, and thinking skills, may not be enough.
All of this, of course, goes back to how we define "college." Historically, the liberal arts college has been the place where a young man or woman has gone to learn how to live a life of meaning and develop the basic skills needed to function at most jobs. It has not been a place where one became a nurse or a businessperson. This is what professional and tech schools were for.
Granted, a liberal arts education has been associated with the children of the wealthy and privileged. But I see no reason why it could not and should not be beneficial to working class or lower-middle class kids as well. As the child of working class parents, the liberal arts changed my life.
While liberal arts colleges like Bard certainly understand the benefits of this type of education, there are many other colleges that either do not understand the liberal arts or else place liberal arts education on the back burner because pre-professional programs pay the bills. When a college like this needs to make cuts amid difficult economic times, it is the liberal arts core that takes all of the hits.
Marcy's piece offers some hope amid this sad situation.
As students swell the ranks of community colleges, the presumption is that readily identifiable and employable skills rather than broad and deep learning are the primary focus of their educational ambitions. But in the case of the liberal arts, conventional wisdom is at odds with what experience and current data suggest. For example, the benchmark freshmen surveys conducted each year by UCLA’s Higher Education Research Institute show an increasing appetite for the kind of educational experience typically associated with the liberal arts. In 2008, for the first time since 1982, more than 50 percent of first year students identified “developing a meaningful philosophy of life” as an important or very important goal of their college experience.
Marcy offers two major reasons for the "gap between conventional wisdom and student decision making." First, more students are realizing that "the separation of liberal arts education from employment is simply unfounded." She writes:
Employers consistently say that they want to hire graduates who can write and speak clearly, who are innovative and critical thinkers, and who are sophisticated and comfortable with diversity. While not exclusively the domain of liberal education, these traits are certainly cultivated in a liberal arts environment.
Second, college students are less materialistic:
Today’s traditional college age population is more globally-minded, less interested in work as a means only to material success, more willing to find middle ground on issues that typically lead to bi-modal responses (such as abortion), and entirely comfortable with differences in race, gender, and sexual orientation.
Marcy concludes the piece by challenging liberal arts colleges to combine what they do well--teaching students to think critically and pursue a meaningful life--with the new changes in technology growing up around them.
Students expect fully contemporary technological resources, even as they seek the depth and meaning promised by a liberal arts education. The practical and financial challenge is to secure the necessary technological resources and fully integrate them into a sophisticated liberal arts education.
While I agree entirely with Marcy, I wonder how all of the benefits of a liberal arts education might be more effectively communicated to students and their parents. Most of the parents of potential college students who I talk to still want to know what their son or daughter might "do with" a liberal arts education. This is a fair question. With rising college tuition costs, it is logical for parents to wonder how their tuition money will contribute to the financial success of their child. The notion that a liberal arts education will allow their son or daughter to pursue a more meaningful life or develop solid writing, reading, and thinking skills, may not be enough.
All of this, of course, goes back to how we define "college." Historically, the liberal arts college has been the place where a young man or woman has gone to learn how to live a life of meaning and develop the basic skills needed to function at most jobs. It has not been a place where one became a nurse or a businessperson. This is what professional and tech schools were for.
Granted, a liberal arts education has been associated with the children of the wealthy and privileged. But I see no reason why it could not and should not be beneficial to working class or lower-middle class kids as well. As the child of working class parents, the liberal arts changed my life.
While liberal arts colleges like Bard certainly understand the benefits of this type of education, there are many other colleges that either do not understand the liberal arts or else place liberal arts education on the back burner because pre-professional programs pay the bills. When a college like this needs to make cuts amid difficult economic times, it is the liberal arts core that takes all of the hits.
Marcy's piece offers some hope amid this sad situation.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Sunday Night Odds and Ends
A few things on-line that caught my attention this week:
African-American churches and immigration.
Navigating the graduate admission process.
Using "Clickers" to teach history.
Jim Cullen on a new Springsteen coffee-table book.
Was the Battle of Saratoga really the "turning point" of the American Revolutionary War? Boston 1775 explains.
Mark Noll reviews Gordon Wood's Empire of Liberty.
Going to Bethlehem for Christmas...Bethlehem, Kentucky that is.
A reflection on Christmas--the holiday of the excluded.
The meaning of 1688.
What can Barack learn from James K. Polk?
E.J. Dionne on 2009's culture war ceasefire.
Boston Globe review of Harlow Giles Unger, The Last Founding Father: James Monroe and a Nation's Call to Greatness
Toys and games with religious significance.
African-American churches and immigration.
Philadelphia Inquirer's review of Howard Zinn's The People Speak.
Civil War Memory picks the "Best of 2009."
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
I am taking a few days off from blogging to celebrate Christmas and honor this important event on the Christian calendar. Feel free to keep reading and commenting in my absence!
I wish all my readers a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
Thanks for reading!
--John
I wish all my readers a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
Thanks for reading!
--John
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Mississippi is the Most Religious State in America
According to a recent study by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life, Mississippi is the most religious state in America. Vermont and New Hampshire are tied for the least religious state. The populations of all fifty states were ranked in four categories: worship attendance, frequency of prayer, belief in God, and the overall importance of religion.
I should also note that I spent time in 2009 in both the most religious and the the least religious state in the United States.
As might be expected, the most religious states in the nation are in the southeast. They include, in order, Mississippi, Alabama, Arkansas, Louisiana, Tennessee, and South Carolina. Which leads me to wonder why the states with the people that pray the most have the best college football teams. I am sure that there is a doctoral dissertation in there somewhere.
As might be expected, the most secular states in America are, in order, New Hampshire, Vermont, Alaska, Massachusetts, and Maine. All of these states have weak college football teams.
I should also note that I spent time in 2009 in both the most religious and the the least religious state in the United States.
As might be expected, the most religious states in the nation are in the southeast. They include, in order, Mississippi, Alabama, Arkansas, Louisiana, Tennessee, and South Carolina. Which leads me to wonder why the states with the people that pray the most have the best college football teams. I am sure that there is a doctoral dissertation in there somewhere.
As might be expected, the most secular states in America are, in order, New Hampshire, Vermont, Alaska, Massachusetts, and Maine. All of these states have weak college football teams.
Caroline Walker Bynum on Teaching Future Scholars
The December Perspectives is loaded with informative articles. We have already blogged today about Laurel Thatcher Ulrich's presidential column. Now I want to call your attention to Caroline Walker Bynum's piece, "Teaching Scholarship."
I don't teach graduate students, but if I did I would definitely take some of Bynum's advice. In fact, I think some of her suggestions could even work well in an undergraduate historical methods course.
First, Bynum defines the kind of scholarship that she wants her students to learn. Scholarship is:
Hard work in archives and libraries without taking shortcuts through the research of others; integrity of citation from primary sources and secondary authorities; thorough grounding in earlier work (and not just that of the 1990s or later); situating of specific conclusions in complex historical contexts; genuine discoveries and original questions, not just a rehash of current theories; and always, always the struggle to ensure that the issues raised are appropriate to the material at hand, that it is not pulled out of shape by contemporary concerns or anxieties: these things are assumed by those who ask “how do we get started in the archives?” or “how do we write up our notes?”
She continues:
...these values are not a natural part of the mental furniture of ordinary people, nor are they implicitly assumed even by most intellectuals, who may find something almost stodgy in such rectitude of citation, in so much work for such a small amount of prose. Where do such values come from? Are we teaching them and, if so, how? It seemed to me, as I thought about writing this essay, that I might consider not so much how I go about crafting history myself as how I go about ensuring that these values are still assumed in the next generation—that is, in my own students.
Bynum makes several very practical pedagogical suggestions for getting students to think like historians.
Many graduate-level courses ask students to write book reviews. I wrote plenty of them in graduate school. But Bynum is skeptical about having students write reviews without knowing something about what goes into them.
Instead of jumping right into the review, she first asks students to come to class with a one sentence thesis of the given book under consideration. She picks one of the students in the class to write his or her thesis on the board and then the class spends the entire class period revising the sentence until it reflects accurately what the author is saying.
Bynum then introduces her students to the book review genre by having her graduate students pick a good book review and write a paper about why it succeeds.
In another assignment, Bynum has her students pick a long footnote in a monograph and write a paper about it. Here is how Bynum describes the exercise:
I have the students find a long footnote in one of the books we have read and write an entire paper about it, checking every reference, primary and secondary. Do the sources support the point made? Are the cited passages taken in or out of context? Is the secondary material germane to the issue? The result of such investigation can, of course, be disillusionment with some great scholars whose particular note may turn out to be inaccurate or tendentious; but learning that even the greatest historians sometimes nod can be a relief as well as a warning. And in any case such an exercise leads to new respect for how much work goes into the deployment of even a single bit of supporting evidence.
Only after these three exercises are students ready to write a book review of their own.
This is history teaching at his best. Bynum appears to be a master at leading her students into the profession, step by step.
I would suggest that you check out the article. Bynum mentions several pedagogical exercises that I do not cover in this post.
I don't teach graduate students, but if I did I would definitely take some of Bynum's advice. In fact, I think some of her suggestions could even work well in an undergraduate historical methods course.
First, Bynum defines the kind of scholarship that she wants her students to learn. Scholarship is:
Hard work in archives and libraries without taking shortcuts through the research of others; integrity of citation from primary sources and secondary authorities; thorough grounding in earlier work (and not just that of the 1990s or later); situating of specific conclusions in complex historical contexts; genuine discoveries and original questions, not just a rehash of current theories; and always, always the struggle to ensure that the issues raised are appropriate to the material at hand, that it is not pulled out of shape by contemporary concerns or anxieties: these things are assumed by those who ask “how do we get started in the archives?” or “how do we write up our notes?”
She continues:
...these values are not a natural part of the mental furniture of ordinary people, nor are they implicitly assumed even by most intellectuals, who may find something almost stodgy in such rectitude of citation, in so much work for such a small amount of prose. Where do such values come from? Are we teaching them and, if so, how? It seemed to me, as I thought about writing this essay, that I might consider not so much how I go about crafting history myself as how I go about ensuring that these values are still assumed in the next generation—that is, in my own students.
Bynum makes several very practical pedagogical suggestions for getting students to think like historians.
Many graduate-level courses ask students to write book reviews. I wrote plenty of them in graduate school. But Bynum is skeptical about having students write reviews without knowing something about what goes into them.
Instead of jumping right into the review, she first asks students to come to class with a one sentence thesis of the given book under consideration. She picks one of the students in the class to write his or her thesis on the board and then the class spends the entire class period revising the sentence until it reflects accurately what the author is saying.
Bynum then introduces her students to the book review genre by having her graduate students pick a good book review and write a paper about why it succeeds.
In another assignment, Bynum has her students pick a long footnote in a monograph and write a paper about it. Here is how Bynum describes the exercise:
I have the students find a long footnote in one of the books we have read and write an entire paper about it, checking every reference, primary and secondary. Do the sources support the point made? Are the cited passages taken in or out of context? Is the secondary material germane to the issue? The result of such investigation can, of course, be disillusionment with some great scholars whose particular note may turn out to be inaccurate or tendentious; but learning that even the greatest historians sometimes nod can be a relief as well as a warning. And in any case such an exercise leads to new respect for how much work goes into the deployment of even a single bit of supporting evidence.
Only after these three exercises are students ready to write a book review of their own.
This is history teaching at his best. Bynum appears to be a master at leading her students into the profession, step by step.
I would suggest that you check out the article. Bynum mentions several pedagogical exercises that I do not cover in this post.
Santa Claus Through the Centuries
Christianity Today is running an old piece by Anthony McRoy entitled "The Face of Christmas Past." (It originally appeared in the CT publication, Christian History.
McRoy traces the story of Santa Claus or "Father Christmas" through English history. He argues that Saint Nick has always been a spiritual figure:
It is not historically accurate, therefore, to associate "Father Christmas" purely with material concerns. Father Christmas was essentially a spiritual figure who emphasized the saving import of Christ's birth. He called people not simply to mutual "goodwill" but to the thankful worship of God.
So What CAN You Do With a History Major?: Part 14
In this segment of our series we are going to go in a slightly different direction. Our previous posts have focused on testimonials or research related to jobs that people with history degrees can do, have done, or are doing. We will continue in this stead in future posts, but today's post is addressed to those readers who love history, but have chosen, for whatever reason, not to pursue their passion.I want to call your attention to the December issue of Perspectives and an article entitled "The Trouble with History." It is written by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, a Pulitzer Prize-winning historian and current president of the American Historical Association . (Anyone who has ever taken my United States survey course has seen her at work in
"A Midwife's Tale," a documentary based on her award-winning book by the same title. Students in my colonial America courses have read her book, Good Wives).
The editors of Perspectives have written a summary of the article that really gets to the heart of it all: "This issue begins with Laurel Thatcher Ulrich’s valedictory column as president: “The Trouble with History.” In it she advocates listening to your instincts and following your drive, as a passion for history can transcend all challenges.
Here is a snippet of Ulrich's article:
But if there is any moral to my story, it may be that your own instincts are a better guide than the words of your former teachers. The best clue to the future, though, is how you feel about what it is you do. Yes, grants and jobs matter. As professionals we need to do more to advocate for history and to support one another in our work. But we also need to ask ourselves what it is that drives us to study, teach, and write.
In “The Trouble with Poetry,” Billy Collins asks if the time will ever come when poets will have “compared everything in the world / to everything else in the world,” leaving them with nothing to do but sit at their desks with folded hands. He knows that won’t happen, and so do we. For those infected with the need to discover the past, there will always be mysteries pulling us through digital or archival darkness. That is why people with tenure as well as those without continue to write. Collins admits that though poetry fills him with joy and with sorrow, “mostly poetry fills me / with the urge to write poetry, / to sit in the dark and wait for a little flame / to appear at the tip of my pencil.” If you have discovered that flame, you will write history.
So what can you do with a history major? For some, it doesn't really matter. Sometimes you just need to follow your passions.
"A mixture of deference and awe and deep suspicion"
As many of my readers know, I am a bit of a Wendell Berry fan. I am currently reading my way through Andy Catlett: Early Travels (2006). It is another Berry masterpiece about the fictional community of Port William, Kentucky. I have grown to love this place over the years, even if it does only exist in my imagination. I remember a former student telling me that Berry's Port William novels made him nostalgic for a kind of place he never experienced and probably never will.The novel centers around nine-year-old Andy Catlett. During his Christmas vacation in 1943 he sets out for his grandparents' by bus, for the first time alone. Andy lives in Hargrave, a town about ten miles from his grandparent's farm in Port William. The trip will not take long, but Andy and his grandfather take it very seriously.
Upon his arrival, he joins a group of farmhands on his grandfather's farm as they all gather together to strip tobacco. Present in the stripping room is Dick Watson, his grandfather's black laborer; Jess and Rufus Brightleaf, tenant farmers and brothers; and, of course, his grandfather. Andy's arrival quickly becomes the focus of conversation among the men and young Andy loves the attention.
Here is what ensues, as narrated by Andy:
Well, Dick, Jess Brightleaf said, "looks like you all met that bus all right. I reckon you got there in plenty of time."
Dick laughed his laugh--"Ho, ho, ho!"--that meant he wasn't going to tell all that he might. "Yessir, Mr. Jessie. We was out at the pike wasn't even day yet."
He would tell me later that Grandpa had been talking about meeting the bus for two or three days. That I would be coming by myself was a matter that he had taken very seriously. That my father would have entrusted me alone to such a contraption as a bus had not met Grandpa's approval. He did not understand internal combustion as a motive force, and he regarded it with a mixture of deference and awe and deep suspicion.
"Ay Lord," Grandpa said, "there was the little thing with his satchel, come all that way by himself." He spoke as if he had witnessed an event of great pathos and wonder, never mind that at my age he would have ridden so far on horseback alone and thought nothing of it.
Jess Brightleaf looked around at us, amused, and said "Uncle Marce, looks like the boy has fattened up right sharply."
"Aw," Rufus said, "he swells up that way ever' winter." He turned around and, grinning squeezed experimentally my thigh above the knee. "Ain't that right, Andy?
"A many a good biscuit has gone down that boy," Jess said. "He eats so much it makes him poor to carry it."
"Yaaaa-hahaaa!" Rufus said. "The boy traded legs with a grasshopper and got cheated out of a ass."
"Well," Jess said considerately, "he'll grow. He'll fill out. We'll get him up here with us next summer and work him hard and put some of that fried chicken and a few biscuits into him, you won't know him by fall.
So they greeted me, made much of me, gave me very astutely my credit rating, and so reminded me how much, how much more than they knew, I wished to grow and fill out and do work worthy of my dinner. When all their backs were turned again, I felt for myself the place where Rufus's hard handprint still lay on my thigh, and I had to acknowledge that it was sure enough a rather grasshopperly appendage.
This is classic Berry!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Frank Schaeffer on Rick Warren and American Evangelicalism
Frank Schaeffer is promoting another book. It is entitled Patience with God: Faith for People Who Don't Like Religion or Atheism. I have not read it yet.In case you do not know Frank Schaeffer, he is the son of Francis Schaeffer, the founder of "L'Abri Fellowship," a Christian study center in Switzerland that was one of the first evangelical communities to take seriously the life of the mind. During the 1960s and 1970s Francis became an evangelical celebrity. Hundreds of young evangelicals and non-evangelicals traveled to L'Abri to explore their faith with Francis and participate in his Christian community. Even Bob Dylan and Mick Jagger had supposedly planned to visit L'Abri (they never showed up). Eric Clapton and Jimmy Page (of Led Zeppelin fame) were apparently fans of Schaeffer's books.
Things changed, however, when Francis started providing intellectual heft to Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson. According to Frank's recent memoir Crazy for God: How I Grew Up As One of the Elect, Helped Found the Religious Right, and Lived to Take All (Or Almost All) of it Back and Barry Hankins's recent biography, Francis Schaeffer and the Shaping of Evangelical America, Francis would end his career as one of America's strongest opponents of abortion rights (he was one of the first evangelicals to make an issue of it) and a defender of the idea that America was founded as a Christian nation. You can read my brief reviews of both of these books here and here.
Frank Schaeffer is a gifted writer and thinker in his own right, but he became famous in the evangelical world largely because he was the son of Francis. Since his father's death he has abandoned evangelicalism and has written about other things, including two well-received books on being the father of a marine.
In 2007 Frank published a memoir of his evangelical childhood. Crazy for God is a fascinating and well-written book. It solidified Frank's public persona as an "anti-evangelical." Today he makes appearances on television news programs warning people about the evils of the Christian Right and apologizing for leading so many people astray during the years he spent at his father's side.
Unlike some of my friends who admire Francis Schaeffer or who have spent time at "L'Abri, I do not have much at stake in what Frank Schaeffer writes. I have never been to L'Abri. I do not consider myself a disciple of his father. And I have only read a few of Francis Schaeffer's books.
Yet I have always been a bit put off by Frank Schaeffer. Something bothers me about the way he regularly throws the evangelical movement under the bus (so to speak) on national television. People like Rachel Maddow and other liberal pundits love him. He goes on their shows as an expert witness--a former insider ready to testify to the dangers of evangelical religion.
I also lost some respect for Schaeffer when he used Crazy for God to tell the intimate details of his childhood in the Schaeffer family, including his father's sex life and his mother's battle with depression. What child does this?
Having said all of this, I was surprised when I found myself agreeing with some of Frank's thoughts in this excerpt from Patience with God. His main target here is mega-church pastor and evangelical leader Rick Warren. He uses Warren as an example of the way evangelicals are prone to follow charismatic leaders.
First, let me say what I don't like about the excerpt. Frank unfairly questions the depth of Rick Warren's spirituality, presenting him as a religious celebrity with no real substance (does he know Warren? Who is he to judge a man's relationship with God?). Moreover, Frank is way out of line in suggesting that anyone who embraces evangelicalism must eventually become either an atheist or a liar or a "flake." Wow! Do I sense some bitterness?
But there is much about Frank's critique of evangelicalism and fundamentalism that seems to be on the mark. For example, it is hard to argue with his assertion that evangelicalism is a relatively new movement in the history of Christendom:
Warren’s message turns out to be less about God than it is about trying to convince his readers to become American-style evangelicals. In other words, to find purpose they have to join the North American individualistic cult of one-stop born-again “salvation” to which Warren belongs. Warren’s Christianity (the leftover residue of the simplistic frontier Protestantism we call “evangelicalism” that broke most connections theological, aesthetic, and liturgical to the historic Christian churches of both the East and West) is not to be confused with what Christians through most of the 2,000-year history of their religion would have recognized as even remotely familiar. According to traditional Christianity, a person was not “saved” or “lost” in a one-stop magical affirmation of “correct” doctrine, but, rather, the process of salvation was lived out in a community. Salvation was a path toward God, not a you’re-in-or-out event, as in “At two thirty last Wednesday I accepted Jesus.” Just as Hillary Clinton said about child rearing, the process of redemption took a village. Pastors were part of that “village” tradition and were inducted into existing communities of faith. They were not self-made and reinventing the faith according to whim. The heart of worship was sacramental continuity and an unbroken connection to generations that came before.
While Christians did have evangelical-style conversion experiences in the early church (not to mention Paul on the road to Damascus), the kind of born-again Christianity we normally associate with American evangelicalism is a relatively new phenomenon in Western culture. I just got done teaching Harry Stout's biography of George Whitefield, The Divine Dramatist. In that book Stout makes a very convincing argument that the evangelicalism we know today is only about 250 years old. Mark Noll implies the same thing in The Rise of Evangelicalism.
Frank continues:
Communities built cathedrals over generations. Usually, no one who worked on laying the building’s foundation was around when it was completed. The name of the cathedral was that of the town where it stood (for instance, Chartres Cathedral) or that of a biblical figure (Notre Dame for instance). A few egomaniacal popes (or bishops) aside, churches were not about their leaders but about the people who worshipped in them. There were religious orders in the Roman Catholic Church that bore the names of their founders, such as the Franciscans, but when those orders survived their founders, it was because they were folded into a hierarchical orderly structure. There were egomaniacal “saints” who drew attention to their “holiness” by public displays of self-mortification (the so-called Stylites, or “Pillar-Saints,” ascetics in the Byzantine Empire who stood on pillars preaching, exposed to the elements, while followers gathered around), but they performed their antics outside of churches. Such individualistic displays didn’t penetrate the liturgical practices led by largely anonymous priests.
The North American evangelical/fundamentalist brand of Christianity is the religious version of the American civil religion: consumerist individualism. Today’s “Stylites” are more often found in private jets, but they still have followers who conflate holiness with success American style—in other words, as measured by money, possessions, numbers, and (above all) celebrity status. The consumer picks a pastor based on where the action seems to be: “Wow, you ought to hear our pastor!” Such “churches” are often founded by a man or woman who started them the way other men and women start a restaurant or a movie company. In Warren’s case, he is pastor of a church called Saddleback, but it’s more properly known as “Rick Warren’s church,” just as the Crystal Cathedral came to be known as “Robert Schuller’s church,” and the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association has its founder’s name in the same way as the Ford Motor Company bears the name of its founder.
I can't argue with Frank here. This is very well put. Unfortunately evangelical readers who need to hear this message might be so put off by Frank's recent history of attacking evangelicalism that they will not take his advice to heart. Frank has his finger on the pulse of American evangelicalism--a religious movement that has always been prone to follow popular leaders at the expense of building a strong sense of "the church."
I encourage you to read the rest of the article. My evangelical readers will be both infuriated and enlightened, but I am guessing that such a mixed reaction is exactly what Frank Schaeffer wants.
So What CAN You Do With A History Major?: Part 13
After our call for history majors to come forward and tell us how they are using their degrees in the workplace, we have received several responses from people around the country. Stay tuned. In 2010 we will hear from a Hollywood movie producer, a researcher for NBC's Olympic coverage, a clergyman, a public historian turned children's librarian, and many others.But today I want to introduce you to Amy James and Miriam Blackmon. First, I want to thank them for taking the time to respond to our call and for reading our blog.
Amy earned a college degree in humanities with a concentration in history from Messiah College. She is currently employed at Messiah's Murray Library and is pursuing a masters degree in the Library and Information Science Program at the University of Pittsburgh. She writes:
What I appreciate most about my major is the sense of interconnectedness I gained. The great thing about a humanities major was that instead of living on a specific floor of an academic building for four years, I was able to attend vastly different classes from different departments and schools. Instead of forming a very specific, narrow view on the world (or particular subjects), the humanities major allowed me to see issues from different perspectives. One semester I took classes on a similar topic from a history professor, a literature professor, a music professor, and a sociology professor (two of whom I actually convinced to hold a joint class together!). Not only has this given me a more well-rounded view of the world, but as I pursue my masters program in library science it has helped me to see things from multiple perspectives and connect ideas that others may not see as connected. I know that the combination of my humanities training and library science studies will enable me to aid researchers, libraries, and historical societies to see their collections in different ways.
Amy adds that her training in history prepared her well for her historiographical/literature papers that she has had to write in graduate school.
The other former history major that we a featuring today is Miriam Blackmon, a history teacher and registrar at the Academy of the New Church, a private high school in Bryn Athyn, PA. Miriam writes:
I work for an independent school as a history teacher, department chair and the school registrar. The first two positions are pretty obvious jobs for history majors, the third is a little bit more odd. In my position as registrar I am responsible for coordinating communication between students, teachers, advisors and parents. I must pay careful attention to details in order to be sure that students have fulfilled requirements for graduation (we have students from four countries and many states, I am responsible for evaluating their transcripts and advising them on the courses they must take). I also help to create our academic policies. Majoring in history taught me to consult multiple sources, compile evidence and then create informed arguments that support my recommendations. These skills are vital in my current position. At the end of the year my husband and I will be moving, I am not planning to continue teaching, but am excited to discover other ways to use my undergraduate and graduate training.
There you have it. History majors can make a pretty good career working as librarians and school registrars! Thanks again Amy and Miriam!
And for all of you followers of this series, please send us your history major testimonials!
Monday, December 21, 2009
Slavery, Abortion, the Constitution, and Christian America
Today I have been writing a chapter on the question of whether or not the United States Constitution is a Christian document. (It is not). Some of you might remember that during the 2008 presidential election John McCain claimed that the Constitution established a Christian nation. Others have tried to make a similar argument.
Yet it seems to me that of all the founding documents, the Constitution is the most "godless." There are a lot of reasons why this is true, but any argument about the "Christian" character of the Constitution must come to grips with the decision of the framers to keep slavery in the Union. In this sense, I think William Lloyd Garrison and other Christian abolitionists were right when they criticized the Constitution as an un-Christian document.
I like Akhil Amar's take on the infamous Three-Fifths Compromise. He dispels the common notion that the Compromise defined a slave as three-fifths of a person. Such a view actually gives the framers far too much credit. Actually, in terms of political participation (which is really what the Compromise was all about--it was not about the human status of slaves), slaves were worth "zero-fifths" of a person.
While writing this morning I recalled a great quote from Mark A. Noll, George M. Marsden, and Nathan O. Hatch's The Search for Christian America . In this passage, Noll responds to the way that many Christians use the Constitution to argue against abortion rights:
Opposition to such practice (abortion rights) is sometimes based on a questionable view of American traditions. Abortion-on-demand, it is said, violates the heritage of American respect for life and for the legal status of all persons. There is some truth to this, but only some. A realistic view of American history, especially the history of the Revolution, shows that from the beginning of the country, high ideals of liberty for all existed side by side with the systematic denial of legal protection for entire classes of human beings. American governments have never done a good job of protecting the powerless and the unrepresented. Even the Constitution, which often reflects sound views on the restraint of power, treated slaves as less than human and completely avoided the question of their rights.
Noll is not saying that pro-life Christians should stop fighting against abortion. Far from it. But he IS saying that Christians should be careful about using the history of the American founding to do it.
Yet it seems to me that of all the founding documents, the Constitution is the most "godless." There are a lot of reasons why this is true, but any argument about the "Christian" character of the Constitution must come to grips with the decision of the framers to keep slavery in the Union. In this sense, I think William Lloyd Garrison and other Christian abolitionists were right when they criticized the Constitution as an un-Christian document.
I like Akhil Amar's take on the infamous Three-Fifths Compromise. He dispels the common notion that the Compromise defined a slave as three-fifths of a person. Such a view actually gives the framers far too much credit. Actually, in terms of political participation (which is really what the Compromise was all about--it was not about the human status of slaves), slaves were worth "zero-fifths" of a person.
While writing this morning I recalled a great quote from Mark A. Noll, George M. Marsden, and Nathan O. Hatch's The Search for Christian America . In this passage, Noll responds to the way that many Christians use the Constitution to argue against abortion rights:
Opposition to such practice (abortion rights) is sometimes based on a questionable view of American traditions. Abortion-on-demand, it is said, violates the heritage of American respect for life and for the legal status of all persons. There is some truth to this, but only some. A realistic view of American history, especially the history of the Revolution, shows that from the beginning of the country, high ideals of liberty for all existed side by side with the systematic denial of legal protection for entire classes of human beings. American governments have never done a good job of protecting the powerless and the unrepresented. Even the Constitution, which often reflects sound views on the restraint of power, treated slaves as less than human and completely avoided the question of their rights.
Noll is not saying that pro-life Christians should stop fighting against abortion. Far from it. But he IS saying that Christians should be careful about using the history of the American founding to do it.
Student Consumerism and Teacher Evaluations Revisited with Lendol Calder
Somewhere on the Internet there was/is a link to my previous post on teacher evaluations and consumerism. That link has sent traffic here at "The Way of Improvement Leads Home" through the roof. Unfortunately, my site meter is unable to pick up the link. It says that it is "unknown." Whatever the source, my remarks on Diane Auer Jones's "Brainstorm" post on teacher evaluations has proven to be quite popular. I have not had so many weekend visits to this blog since the day I asked: Does Sarah Palin speak in tongues?
One of the commentators on my "Student Consumerism and Teacher Evaluations" post was Lendol Calder. In case you don't know him (you should!), Lendol teaches history at Augustana College in Rock Island, Illinois. He is a scholar of American consumerism and the author of Financing the American Dream: A Cultural History of Consumer Credit (Princeton, 2001). Lendol is also an expert on the teaching of history. While working as a fellow at the Carnegie Foundation, Lendol developed the concept of "Uncoverage," which he describes as a "signature pedagogy for the history survey."
I cannot think of a better person to comment on the subject of teacher evaluations and student consumerism. In case you have not read the comments section of my previous post on this subject, here are Lendol's remarks:
John, I don't entirely disagree with your post on student evaluations. But I think there is a case to be made that treating students as "consumers," if that is what we want to call it, can be for everyone's good.
I'm thinking of John Adams' caution that if men are not angels then it does no good to design a political system that only works for angels. You have to take people as they are. With that caution in mind, we profs have to take students as they are. It does no one any good to wish very hard that students were more like us, "learners" right out of the box.
It is unfair to students, I think, to label them as "consumers" as if all of them only want to be entertained. Some of them want to learn, maybe even most of them. But if American culture has socialized them to attend best to content that comes via entertainment, then those are the cards that have been dealt to us. I say we deal with it instead of complaining that we don't teach other students at another time in another place.
Now I will make an unfair generalization: the complaint about student consumerism is too often the product of the wounded ego of profs. "It's not about you," they emote, "it's really about me!" In other words, the complaint about student consumerism is itself a kind of reverse-consumerism, where the prof is the consumer who isn't getting what she wants. And what does she want? Students to respectfully bow to her will. As a historian of consumerism, I say we're all consumers here, so let's stop pointing the finger at students.
There's nothing wrong, and a lot that is right, a lot that is incarnational even, about coming down from our pedestals on Mt Olympus and learning to see the world the way 18 year old novices see it. This is not treating them as consumers so much as it taking them seriously, and taking teaching seriously.
Nothing I say here should be construed to mean that profs should merely entertain, or that in walking alongside learners we don't need to take them somewhere. But I'm all for a little more "consumerism" in teaching and learning if it means a few less boring professors, "boring" because they can't be bothered to see the world the way the student Other does.
I could not agree more. While I often get irritated by the consumer impulses of my students, and I support Jones's criticism of professors who merely entertain in order to land good evaluations, I think Lendol's "incarnational" approach is absolutely essential to good pedagogy. Are students consumers? Yes. And I do not think it is "unfair" to label them as such. At the same time, student consumerism is no excuse for not trying to meet students "where they are." In fact, it seems like we MUST do this in order for education to take place in this day and age. After reading Lendol's comment, I signed up for a class at Messiah College on how to use "Sakai"--our on-line teaching resource. (Similar to "Blackboard").
I know Lendol has been thinking deeply about these issues and he eventually hopes to write something more formal on the subject. He has some things to say about the "reverse consumerism" of college professors that might be hard for some of us to hear. Stay tuned.
Some of his thoughts on this kind of teaching will appear in a great essay entitled "For Teachers to Live, Professors Must Die: A Sermon on the Mount" in John Fea, Jay Green, and Eric Miller, ed., Confessing History: Christian Faith and the Historian's Vocation (Notre Dame University Press, forthcoming).
(Thanks to Lendol for letter me use his comment in this post).
One of the commentators on my "Student Consumerism and Teacher Evaluations" post was Lendol Calder. In case you don't know him (you should!), Lendol teaches history at Augustana College in Rock Island, Illinois. He is a scholar of American consumerism and the author of Financing the American Dream: A Cultural History of Consumer Credit (Princeton, 2001). Lendol is also an expert on the teaching of history. While working as a fellow at the Carnegie Foundation, Lendol developed the concept of "Uncoverage," which he describes as a "signature pedagogy for the history survey."
I cannot think of a better person to comment on the subject of teacher evaluations and student consumerism. In case you have not read the comments section of my previous post on this subject, here are Lendol's remarks:
John, I don't entirely disagree with your post on student evaluations. But I think there is a case to be made that treating students as "consumers," if that is what we want to call it, can be for everyone's good.
I'm thinking of John Adams' caution that if men are not angels then it does no good to design a political system that only works for angels. You have to take people as they are. With that caution in mind, we profs have to take students as they are. It does no one any good to wish very hard that students were more like us, "learners" right out of the box.
It is unfair to students, I think, to label them as "consumers" as if all of them only want to be entertained. Some of them want to learn, maybe even most of them. But if American culture has socialized them to attend best to content that comes via entertainment, then those are the cards that have been dealt to us. I say we deal with it instead of complaining that we don't teach other students at another time in another place.
Now I will make an unfair generalization: the complaint about student consumerism is too often the product of the wounded ego of profs. "It's not about you," they emote, "it's really about me!" In other words, the complaint about student consumerism is itself a kind of reverse-consumerism, where the prof is the consumer who isn't getting what she wants. And what does she want? Students to respectfully bow to her will. As a historian of consumerism, I say we're all consumers here, so let's stop pointing the finger at students.
There's nothing wrong, and a lot that is right, a lot that is incarnational even, about coming down from our pedestals on Mt Olympus and learning to see the world the way 18 year old novices see it. This is not treating them as consumers so much as it taking them seriously, and taking teaching seriously.
Nothing I say here should be construed to mean that profs should merely entertain, or that in walking alongside learners we don't need to take them somewhere. But I'm all for a little more "consumerism" in teaching and learning if it means a few less boring professors, "boring" because they can't be bothered to see the world the way the student Other does.
I could not agree more. While I often get irritated by the consumer impulses of my students, and I support Jones's criticism of professors who merely entertain in order to land good evaluations, I think Lendol's "incarnational" approach is absolutely essential to good pedagogy. Are students consumers? Yes. And I do not think it is "unfair" to label them as such. At the same time, student consumerism is no excuse for not trying to meet students "where they are." In fact, it seems like we MUST do this in order for education to take place in this day and age. After reading Lendol's comment, I signed up for a class at Messiah College on how to use "Sakai"--our on-line teaching resource. (Similar to "Blackboard").
I know Lendol has been thinking deeply about these issues and he eventually hopes to write something more formal on the subject. He has some things to say about the "reverse consumerism" of college professors that might be hard for some of us to hear. Stay tuned.
Some of his thoughts on this kind of teaching will appear in a great essay entitled "For Teachers to Live, Professors Must Die: A Sermon on the Mount" in John Fea, Jay Green, and Eric Miller, ed., Confessing History: Christian Faith and the Historian's Vocation (Notre Dame University Press, forthcoming).
(Thanks to Lendol for letter me use his comment in this post).
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