How Does the Bible Work? Rightly Dividing the Word of Truth

Those outside the borders of Fundamentalist America, like me, are often stumped by the way conservative Protestants use the Bible.  For instance, I have a hard time understanding how conservative Protestants, in particular, interact with the Bible.  I should note here that this reverence for the Bible is still a fairly bright line between conservatives Protestants and other conservative religious folks.  Though Catholics, for instance, value the Bible, they generally do not invest it with the same authority as do conservative Protestants.  Also, even among conservative Protestants, there are many different traditions of Bible interpretation, exegesis, and hermeneutics.

Granting all that, there is still one question that puzzles me and many other outsiders: If the Bible is the Word of God, how can fundamentalists edit it?  As we’ve seen, fundamentalist missionaries have long used selections from the Bible as tools.  Fundamentalists often believe that these words have supernatural power to convert people to fundamentalist Christianity.  In addition, some of the most popular books among fundamentalists have been editions of the Bible with fundamentalist commentary.  This history goes back to the earliest days of Pilgrim and Puritan in Europe and the New World.  In 1560, Protestant divines completed an English-language Geneva edition of the Bible, flush with voluminous marginal commentary.  According to historian Harry Stout, it would have been considered irresponsible by sixteenth-century Protestants to “provide this Word raw, with no interpretive guidance.”  The commentary explained to readers, following Martin Luther, that every bit of Bible inclined toward the Christ.

In the twentieth century, this tradition of Bible commentary continued with enormously popular commentary editions, such as the Scofield Bible.  This edition of the Bible adds voluminous commentary on each smidgen of text.  Scofield’s interest in eschatology and suggestions of distinct dispensations contributed materially to the dominance of a dispensational reading of Scripture among American fundamentalists. 

In order for outsiders to understand Fundamentalist America, especially the Protestant traditions of fundamentalism, evangelicalism, Pentecostalism, conservative Lutheranism, and other Bible-based faiths, we need to understand this attitude toward the Bible.  The Bible, to many conservative Protestants, must be understood as the inerrant Word of God.  Yet that does not contradict with the notion that the Bible is also—and has also always been—the proper target of editing, translating, and commentating.

REQUIRED READING: “The New Phrenology”

Fundamentalists resent liberals’ smugness.  Fundamentalist intellectuals, especially, have long chafed at their opponents’ equation of conservatism with ignorance and isolation.   In the Scopes Trial of 1925, celebrity anti-evolutionist William Jennings Bryan–former Secretary of State, holder of multiple earned and honorary college degrees–protested that he had met with “kings, emperors, and prominent public men,” but he had never been called an “ignoramus . . . by anyone except an evolutionist.”  Until his dying day, Bryan maintained a protest membership in the staunchly pro-evolution American Association for the Advancement of Science.

Bryan and the man who called Bryan an "ignoramus."This week we have a new articulation of this fundamentalist tradition.  In a scathing piece in this week’s The Weekly Standard, editor Andrew Ferguson tees off on liberal “psychopundits” who use questionable social-science research to prove “that Republicans are heartless and stupid.”

The first of Ferguson’s targets is journalist and academic Thomas Edsall.  In a March article in the New York Times, Edsall summed up a handful of research studies that prove that richer people tend to pooh-pooh poor people’s problems.  Ferguson takes Edsall to task for wrapping his punditry in a hazy gauze of shady research.

Ferguson also attacks writer Chris Mooney.  Not surprisingly, Ferguson was offended by the premise of Mooney’s new book, The Republican Brain: The Science of Why They Deny Science—and Reality.  As with Edsall, Ferguson blasts Mooney’s “wide-eyed acceptance of this social science, no matter how sloppy or ideologically motivated.”

As with other conservative intellectuals, what seems to gall Ferguson the most is the combination of ignorance and intellectual snobbery.  On one hand, liberals, evolutionists, and other anti-fundamentalists lambaste conservatives for attacking “Science.”  On the other, those same anti-fundamentalists often misuse or misunderstand the very science they claim to be supporting.

The Bible as America’s Book: Americans Love the Bible

I don’t care much about the Bible.  I admit it.  In my work as a historian of American conservatism and conservative Christianity, I’ve tried a couple of times to study the Bible systematically.  After all, the Bible and its phraseology play a large role in the culture of the people I’m studying.  At the very least, I need to cultivate a familiarity with it so that I can catch the references that fly around so fast and furious in Fundamentalist America.  So I’ve tried to read the Bible.  Turns out I can read it if I have to, but I admit I’ve never felt any of the spiritual power that many Christians have described.

I can take it one step further.  I don’t think the Bible can help me figure out my problems.  I don’t think it has much to say about my personal life.  I feel even more strongly that the Bible doesn’t have any answers for our common cultural or political life.  Intellectually, I agree with skeptics such as Richard Dawkins and others who have dismissed the Bible as a collection of ancient myths, trapped in the provincial traditions of one group of Middle Eastern nomads.

For most of my life, I assumed such attitudes were normal.  I thought that most Americans agreed that the Bible must not be used as the simple truth about life and eternity, but rather as a collection of moral tales from one religious tradition.

I felt confirmed that my attitudes matched those of lots of Americans by seeing hilarious religion jokes by folks like George Carlin (wait for it) and the makers of Family Guy.

I thought such irreverent attitudes about the Bible were the norm.  They still seem to be the norm among my circle of professional and personal acquaintance.  But they are not.  If we want to understand life in America, and especially if we hope to understand Fundamentalist America, we need to recognize the significant power of the Bible in the lives of most Americans.  If we can believe Gallup poll data, we must acknowledge the continuing deep reverence for the Bible among most Americans.  For instance, one 2000 poll asked respondents, “Do you believe the Bible answers all or most of the basic questions of life, or not?” 65% of respondents answered yes.  65%!  That is a significant majority.

And consider these responses to an often-repeated Gallup question:

  The Bible is the actual word of God and is to be taken   literally word for word The Bible is the inspired word of God but is not to be   interpreted literally The Bible is a collection of myths and fables.
1976 38 45 13
1980 40 45 9
1991 32 49 9
1993 35 48 14
1998 33 47 17

Looking at these results, especially if we combine the first two Bible-friendly categories, we see truly impressive majorities of American respondents view the Bible as the word of God.  Even when we only consider those who think of it as the literal truth, the numbers are still fairly large—certainly large enough to attract the attention of political strategists and advertisers.

Just as with similar questions about evolution, we must acknowledge that the number of Americans who don’t embrace the Bible is remarkably small.  We need to avoid the arrogance and self-importance of many Bible skeptics.  Instead of asking, Why do so many Americans seem to believe in the Bible or creationism?, we really should be asking, How have such small minorities of evolutionists and Bible skeptics been able to achieve such influence in American culture?

I know many ILYBYGTH readers will not be surprised by these statistics.  Anyone who knows much about life in Fundamentalist America recognizes the large majorities Fundamentalism can claim.  But many folks outside of Fundamentalist America’s boundaries have very little idea how isolated they are.  Like me, many people only interact with folks who tend to believe in evolution, with people who do not look to the Bible as their source of answers to life’s problems.  If we hope to understand Fundamentalist America, we need to acknowledge the continuing power of the Bible among such commanding majorities of Americans of every background.

 

In the News: Gay Rights, Bullying, and the “Homosexual Agenda”

Thanks again to Charles Haynes of the First Amendment Center for drawing our attention to Missouri’s “Don’t Say Gay” bill.

This bill, Missouri House Bill 2051, would prohibit teachers in public schools from discussing homosexuality with their students.

The impetus for the bill comes from a widespread belief in Fundamentalist America that public schools push what Fundamentalists call a “homosexual agenda.”

Understandably, non-fundamentalists see bills like this as an attempt to limit rights for gay people.  One Missouri activist called this bill “a desperate tactic by frightened, bigoted, cynical individuals who are terrified at the advancement the LGBT community has made.”  Other interweb voices blasted the move as “moronic legislation” by the “elected bullies” in the Missouri legislature.

I agree with the sentiment expressed by these anti-2051 activists.  This Missouri bill, like other bills that seek to control teachers’ ideological performance, promotes a poisonous educational atmosphere in which the best teachers are forced into cynicism or subversion.  Meanwhile, the bulk of public school teachers trudge along in a bland mediocrity, avoiding any topic that might have potential interest or relevance in students’ real lives.

But I wonder if opponents of the Missouri bill understand that the polemic strategy they use actually reinforces the notions of their Fundamentalist opponents.  Here’s what I mean:  The most common defense of discussing sexual orientation openly and frankly in public schools is that such discussions can help limit bullying.  Defenders of the rights of gay people, especially of gay students in schools, point to the dangerous and even fatal bullying of gay students as the threat of gag rules like HB 2051.  To attack HB 2051, gay-rights activists wrap their assertion of rights for homosexuals in the language of a wider, faddish anti-bullying campaign.

In doing so, they confirm the suspicion of anti-gay activists from Fundamentalist America.  Such activists warn of a creeping “homosexual agenda.”  Such an agenda, Fundamentalists warn, focuses on using public schools to promote an idea that all sexual orientations must be considered equal.  A central trait of this “homosexual agenda” in public schools, as this CitizenLink (an offshoot of James Dobson’s Focus on the Family) video emphasizes, is that the homosexual agenda is “sneaky.”  [This video is just under ten minutes long, but well worth the time for those who hope to understand the thinking of Fundamentalist America.]

Fundamentalists warn that homosexual activists will wrap their true agenda in other causes.  And, when gay-rights activists point to bullying as the main reason to oppose 2051, they add more legitimacy to this Fundamentalist claim.

Let me be clear here: I am not in support of 2051.  But arguing that this is a bullying issue, instead of a gay-rights issue, is exactly what Fundamentalist America expects of gay-rights activists.  I suspect a better understanding of Fundamentalist America would allow gay-rights activists to avoid playing into Fundamentalists’ hands in this way.  Using the broader issue of bullying to promote fuller equality in public schools ends up strengthening Fundamentalist arguments, not weakening them.  Equality should be enough.  That is, gay-rights activists and others should keep it simple: Public schools must be places where every student, teacher, parent, staff member, and administrator feels welcomed and valued.  Regardless of race, religion, sexual orientation, gender, or other distinction.  This is sufficient reason to oppose Missouri’s 2051 and similar bills.  Saying that gay students must have equal rights only because they might otherwise be bullied muddies the issue.  It fuels Fundamentalist fears that a “homosexual agenda” is being foisted on public schools, hidden in common anti-bullying campaigns.

 

Fundamentalist America: A Lock for the GOP?

Casual observers might assume that every Fundamentalist vote is a lock for the GOP.  After all, at least since Reagan took the evangelical vote away from the evangelical Jimmy Carter, the Republican Party has cultivated an image as the staunch defender of life, family, and traditional values.

Reagan at the 1983 NAE Convention.

 

So even though the presumptive GOP nominee is a leader of the LDS Church, it is a general electoral rule of thumb that Bible voters will go for Romney in 2012.

But will they?

An article in this week’s Economist tries to pick apart the “evangelical vote.”  The article offers some interesting numbers.  Here are a few to consider:  in 2008, 65% of (self-identified) white evangelicals called themselves Republicans.  A recent poll put that number at 70%.  Self-identified white evangelicals made up 44% of Republican primary voters in 2008, compared to “over half” in the first 16 GOP primaries in 2012.  That’s a strong vote of support.

But look at the other side of those numbers.  In 2008, almost one-quarter of evangelical voters voted for Barack Obama.  Part of that support comes from a closer look at the meaning of “evangelical.”  President Obama, according to the Economist article (citing a Pew Research Center poll), enjoys a 93-point lead over Governor Romney among African American voters.  And those voters, after all, include a large percentage who are evangelicals.

The numbers get even dicier when we expand our understanding of “Fundamentalist America” beyond the boundaries of evangelical Protestantism.  Many conservative Catholic voters line up these days with conservative Protestants to vote for a vision of traditional Christian values.  And the conservative Catholic vote includes large numbers of Latino voters.  Such voters may vote for the GOP as the pro-life, pro-family, pro-Jesus party.  But many Latinos might be turned off by the Republicans’ growing support for harsh anti-immigration laws, many of which seem to target Latinos specifically.  As the Economist article points out, President Obama leads Governor Romney by 67% to 27% among surveyed Latino voters.

Could these numbers harken a shake-up of the relationship between Fundamentalist America and the two major parties?  For those who know their history, it would not be the first time.  After all, before the 1980 presidential elections, white evangelicals often portrayed themselves as above party politics.  They claimed to vote for candidates who best embodied the values of Bible-believing America.  And before the 1930s, African American voters reliably voted Republican, the Party of Lincoln.

Could we be on the verge of another party shake-up?  Could the Democratic Party attract young and non-white conservative Christians by appealing to social justice issues?  Could the GOP fumble by alienating non-white Fundamentalists and young social-justice evangelicals?  Even more interesting, could we be on the verge of a vast party realignment, of the kind that has revolutionized party politics a few times in the past?  In the mid-1800s, the new Republican Party built a powerful coalition out of the remnants of the Whig Party, the American Party, and abolitionists.  In the 1930s, the Democratic Party built another blockbuster with a Solid (white) South, urban “ethnic” voters, the union vote, and non-whites.

These powerful electoral coalitions don’t need to be logical.  But a new party that combined today’s Democratic Party’s tradition of social justice, plus the GOP’s tradition of traditional Christian values, could capture this broad middle from Fundamentalist America.

Google Trends and Fundamentalist America

Fundamentalist America is aflutter.  One of Fundamentalism’s favorite sons made a big splash last week.

After David Barton’s appearance on Jon Stewart’s Daily Show to promote his new book The Jefferson Lies, the Beckite Blaze reported that the term “David Barton” had surged to number one on the list of trendy Google search terms.

When I followed up, I couldn’t confirm The Blaze‘s claim.  When I checked Google’s “Hot Searches” for May 2, 2012, Barton shows up as number nine.

The experience led to me tinker around a little bit with Google Trends.  Now, I know I need to apologize for my lateness at showing up to this party.  This is yet another example of the way I am far behind the times in finding out about the possibilities of the Google Mothership.

But I want to share a few of the interesting results for those outsiders interested in Fundamentalist America.  First, for those who are as backwards as I am, I’ll explain the premise a little bit.  Google Trends gives users a chance to find out how many people have Googled specific terms over time.  Today (May 5, 2012), many of the hottest search terms concern the recent death of Beastie Boy Adam Yauch.  In general, it seems as if the biggest topics in the daily news tend to attract the most Google searches.

But Google Trends also lets us see what people are googling over time.  If we want to understand what googling Americans are interested in, it gives us a chance to find out.  Now, I won’t make any claims that these results are definitive.  We can’t know very much about the intentions of googlers.  But there are still a few interesting results that I want to share, just to give everyone something to think about.

For example, I checked the trends for terms in tandem and got some interesting results.  For instance, “evolution” has trumped “creationism” by a long sight for the past several years.  On the other hand, comparing the google history of “Bible” and “Origin of Species” shows a huge tilt toward Bible googlers.    And, in the past few years at least, Jesus has almost always been comfortably bigger than the Beatles.  In fact, “Jesus” as a search term has held a comfortable lead over most other topics I could think of, including “David Barton,” “atheism,” and even “cats,” although “cats” seemed to hold its own pretty well.

What does all this tell us about Fundamentalist America?  Not much, really.  But it does demonstrate the enduring popularity of Christian terminology on Google.  Of course, people Google all sorts of different terms for all sorts of reasons.  Are there any other term comparisons that can tell us something about the nature and meaning of life in Fundamentalist America?

The Bible in America: A Graphic

Thanks to Jared Fanning and Mark Misulia of First Things, we have a new graphic to consider.  As we’ve argued before, the Bible sells.  Though we don’t want to jump too quickly to conclusions about what that means, it seems evident that the Bible matters to Americans.  Anyone who hopes to understand Fundamentalist America needs to understand the unique and important role of the Bible in American history and culture.

The Bible as America’s Book: The View from 1898

Fundamentalists insist that America needs the Bible.  As we’ve explored here before, many argue that America was founded as a Biblical nation.   Fundamentalists will tell you that America went to the dogs when Americans foolishly agreed to kick the Bible out of public schools.  If you have three minutes to spare, check out this video for a brief and dramatic version of this line of Fundamentalist thinking.

As with a lot of historical claims in Fundamentalist America, this one needs some scrutiny.  Outside of angry nostalgia and heated rhetoric, what can we know about the uses and meanings of the Bible in the history of America’s public schools?  Educational historians agree it is notoriously difficult to find out what went on in classrooms in the past.  Reading textbooks only tells us what was in those books, not what teachers and students really did.  Reading memoirs of student life can tell us what students choose to remember from their school days, but it can’t get us behind that closed classroom door.  And reading school laws and regulations only tell us what rulemakers wanted schools to do, not what the schools actually did.  But in spite of all these difficulties, we do have scattered chunks of evidence about classroom practice in the past.

In this post, I’ll analyze one such piece of evidence.  At the end of the nineteenth century, the Chicago Woman’s Educational Union conducted a survey to determine the degree to which the Bible played a leading role in American public education.  In 1898, the CWEU published the results as The Nation’s Book in the Nation’s Schools As the name implies, this was never meant to be a disinterested survey.  The editor, Elizabeth Cook, planned to use her evidence to promote a vision of American public schools as the proper home of a thoroughly Biblical culture.  As she wrote in her preface, Cook hoped to “aid in the beautiful work of guarding and extending the proper use of the Bible in our Glorious Educational System.”  The historical vision of the Chicago group would have made today’s fundamentalist historians such as David Barton proud.  Cook explained to readers that the Founding Fathers had imagined a thoroughly Biblical culture and society.  In 1777, she described, the Continental Congress ordered 30,000 English copies of the Bible for public distribution.  This proved, Cook argued, “how deeply the conviction that a knowledge of Biblical truth was essential to National life and health.”  The Chicago women’s group decided to see if the Bible still retained a prominent role in the nation’s public schools.  They surveyed state, county, and city school administrators.  The results of this survey satisfied the women that the Bible did indeed remain central to American public education.

Of course, we must recognize that the responses of these school superintendents tell us more about the political nature of the inquiry than about actual Bible reading in public schools in the late nineteenth century.  It shows us more about how these school politicians wanted to be seen than about what actually went on in classrooms.  These survey responses framed a political statement about the proper role for the Bible in 1898’s public schools, not a neutral batch of evidence.  Nevertheless, for that very reason the responses can tell us a great deal about contemporary attitudes.

The survey responses from my new home state, New York, described what Cook interpreted as a thoroughly Biblical public school culture.  A significant majority (53 of 94 respondents from across the state) reported Bible reading as an opening daily exercise in their schools.  Yet a sizeable minority (17 of 94) answered that the Bible was not read in their local schools.

In a neighboring state we see a similarly complicated response.  The state superintendent of public education in New Jersey, one CJ Baxter, responded that most schools in his Garden State read from the Bible.  Their reasons for doing so, he insisted, were simple.  Baxter told the Chicago Bible women that New Jerseyans “rejoiced under the reign of God, confident that He would ‘beautify the meek with salvation.’”  This answer from a state superintendent of education certainly sounds different from what one would expect from such an official today.  Not only did he agree with the surveyors that the Bible ought to be part of public education, but in 1898 he publicly aligned himself with the evangelical Protestant tradition.  With such attitudes at the top, it would not be surprising to find New Jersey’s teachers reading from the Bible in many public classrooms.  But it would also be unsurprising to find that significant numbers of parents and teachers quietly ignored their state leader’s loud evangelicalism.  It does not take a stretch of historical imagination to envision plenty of New Jersey schools in 1898 working out a far less evangelical attitude toward the practices in any given classroom.  And, in fact, even Superintendent Baxter confessed that “a few” of the school boards in New Jersey did not allow Bible reading in their public schools.

From Pennsylvania, the state superintendent reported that 15,780 out of 18,109 public schools in the Keystone State read from the Bible.  Such statistics delighted Cook and the CWEU.  But in other places, officials reported that Bible reading would not be allowed.  The curt responses from school leaders in Idaho and Utah, for example, demonstrated different regional attitudes.  John Parks, Utah’s state superintendent, offered a Mormon-powered interpretation of the use of Bible in public schools.  “While morality is taught and inculcated in all of the public schools of this State,” Parks told the Chicago Bible women, “the Bible is not read in any of them.  The belief seems to be quite wide-spread here that moral teaching in the public schools should be wholly non-sectarian, and many believe it to be impossible to introduce the Bible into the schools without at the same time removing one of the strongest guards against sectarianism.”

In 1898 Utah, “non-sectarian” meant no Bibles.  But in many eastern and southern states, non-sectarian had a much different meaning.  Most eastern and southern respondents felt that if the Bible could be used in a way that did not discriminate against or among Protestants, Catholics, and Jews, it could be used freely.  In spite of the eager evangelical tone of the New Jersey superintendent, most of those who approved of reading from the Bible in public schools agreed it must be done “without note or comment.”  Most school Bible rules explicitly stated that the Bible’s words must be allowed to stand free of any imposed interpretation.

For example, Baltimore’s Bible rule, according to Cook’s report, specified that schools might use either the evangelical-friendly King James Version or the Catholic-friendly Douay version for their school readings.  The rule in New York City specified,

No school shall be entitled to, or receive any portion of the school moneys, in which the religious doctrines or tenets of any particular Christian, or other religious sect, shall be taught, inculcated, or practiced; or in which any book or books containing compositions favorable or prejudicial to the particular doctrines or tents of any particular Christian or other religious sect, or which shall refuse to permit the visits and examinations provided for in this chapter.  But nothing herein contained shall authorize the Board of Education to exclude the Holy Scriptures, without note or comment, or any selections therefrom from any of the schools provided for by this charter.”

In other words, most school leaders agreed there must be no sectarian books in schools.  In Utah, that meant no Bibles.  But in New York, it didn’t.  In New York, and many other eastern and southern states, the Bible stood out as a uniquely powerful book, beyond all sectarian controversy.  All people, the thinking went, could support the reading of the Bible in public schools, since it transcended all religious differences.

Such differences in New York City and Baltimore focused on Catholic/Protestant/Jewish disagreements about the nature and uses of the Bible.  Those in Utah and Idaho implied LDS/mainstream Protestant disagreements.  Reporting from North Carolina, State Superintendent of Public Instruction John L. Scarborough noted a different division.  The Bible, Scarborough responded to the survey, transcended racial differences, with a “native population, white and black, the majority of whom and their leaders, love the old Book, and its doctrines and morals.  God bless her people every one, and keep her in the old paths.”

Most of the survey respondents who wanted Bibles in their schools argued that the Bible ought to be read in public schools for fundamentally non-religious reasons.  Though some, like New Jersey’s and North Carolina’s superintendents, might have personally agreed with the Protestant evangelical mission of the Chicago Bible women, most framed their arguments in terms of moral indoctrination.  For instance, one school superintendent from Tennessee declared that the Bible was and must remain in Tennessee’s public schools.  He did not say this would lead children to heaven, though.  Instead, he insisted, “The Bible is our rock of public safety.”  Such arguments in favor of Bible reading in public schools seemed to resonate strongly in late-nineteenth-century America.  Cook summed up this patriotic morality by noting, “Even as all political parties of the United States honor our Flag and National Constitution, so should the people of every faith look to our Nation’s Bible for instruction in National righteousness.”

In Cook’s opinion, the Bible stood out as a unique moral guide.  She argued not only that it should be used in America’s public schools, but that it was used in a vast majority of those schools.  Yet her own evidence shows how complicated that use was.  In many parts of the country, the Bible in 1898 was seen in a way very similar to the way it is seen today: as a divisive religious book.  In states such as Utah, Idaho, and Montana, state superintendents responded that the use of the Bible in public schools would mean an un-American imposition of religion in public schools.  In many other regions, however, the Bible seems to have been embraced as an appropriate non-sectarian—or better yet, super-sectarian—book for use in public schools.

Where it was used, however, it generally took its place as a generic moral guide.  Most school leaders did not say they read from the Bible in order to lead children to heaven.  Much more common was the argument that public schools must read the Bible in order to lead children out of the gutter and the prison.

Required Reading: Greg Forster and the Hundred Years’ War

At the Witherspoon Institute’s Public Discourse this morning, Greg Forster introduced a three-part series inquiring into the changing relationship between evangelicals and politics in the United States over the past century.  The series, Evangelicals and Politics: The Hundred Years’ War, promises to examine the tense relationship between conservative evangelicals and political life.

An Impassible Chasm

From EJ Pace, Christian Cartoons, 1922

Forster is deeply sympathetic to the cultural claims of conservative evangelical Protestants.  Though he would likely dispute the label, he writes about what I call Fundamentalist America from deep inside its boundaries.  He works and has worked for a variety of conservative foundations, including the Kern Family Foundation and the Friedman Foundation for Educational Choice.  He has written about the Joy of Calvinism and argued in favor of the marketization of schooling.

In this series, he asserts that evangelical political activism has been a force for good throughout the twentieth century.  “Good citizens,” he notes,
“don’t stand by while their nation is threatened, and evangelical political activity has accomplished much good. Although the rising tide of moral disorder has not been reversed, its progress has been halted in many respects, and forces of renewal are gathering. All of this was made possible largely by evangelical efforts.”

But Forster does not simply present the History of Heroic Fundamentalists.  He takes conservative evangelicals to task for misunderstanding the implications of the Great Schism, the split among Protestants around the turn of the twentieth century between “modernists” and “fundamentalists.”  In Forster’s words:

“Before the schism, America had a longstanding social consensus on how to reconcile religious freedom with public morals: the state would legislate based on the moral consensus of society, but keep its hands off directly confessional issues and try to steer clear of inhibiting diverse religious exercise. Meanwhile, beyond the bounds of state power, America’s leading institutions would be predominantly defined by and loyal to the Protestant view of the world. This strong yet informal Protestant cultural authority would keep the citizenry moral, so the coercive power of the state could be mostly kept out of moral formation in the interests of religious freedom.

“The Protestant schism was the decisive factor that ended the old social order. To be sure, a variety of other factors were already weakening it; for example, the injustices imposed upon Catholics and Jews were becoming steadily harder to ignore. However, the schism destroyed the framework of the social order from within. Protestantism could no longer serve as a moral center of society once no one could say with any confidence what “Protestantism” was.

“But evangelical leaders misunderstood the nature of the threat. They didn’t seem to grasp that the schism had destroyed America’s Protestant cultural consensus. They spoke and acted as though it was still basically sound in the country at large, and was only being challenged by a cabal of liberal secularists who were hijacking America’s culturally leading institutions (especially denominational bodies and universities). In short, they thought of the crisis more in terms of apostasy by a relatively narrow set of leaders than a true schism of the church.

“Because of this misunderstanding, evangelicals turned to politics as a tool for mobilizing social power and cultural influence to wage their battle against the liberal secularists. They expected that politics would give them the power they needed, because elections are based on majority rule and America was still basically a Protestant country.”

Forster’s analysis fits.  In some key “fundamentalist” political battles, conservatives hoped to mobilize the power of the state to support their cultural power.  As I argue in my book Fundamentalism and Education in the Scopes Era, (coming soon in paperback, pre-order now!) 1920s fundamentalists were successful when they mobilized a broad spectrum of Protestant support.  They were less so when they fought against liberal Protestantism.  So, for instance, when they disputed the teaching of evolution in public schools, liberals successfully castigated them as hillbillies and anti-intellectuals.  But when they pressed for laws mandating Bible reading in public schools, they met far less resistance.

I’m looking forward to the rest of Forster’s series.

FROM THE ARCHIVES: Bible in America: Bibles to the Backwoods

A few years back I stumbled across a remarkable Bible campaign.  Beginning in 1921 and continuing throughout the twentieth century, Bible evangelists based at Chicago’s Moody Bible Institute delivered Bibles, New Testaments, and tracts to underserved regions.  This campaign, which began as part of the Bible Institute Colportage Association and eventually became part of the Moody Literature Mission, delivered millions of Bibles and religious literature to the Southern Appalachian region, as well as the Ozarks, western logging camps, Louisianan Catholic schools, prisons, hospitals, and other venues in which missionaries thought people were hungry for the Word. 

            At the time, I focused my study on the missionaries’ use of Appalachian public schools as a distribution network for this religious literature.  I published some of my findings in an academic journal [“The Quiet Crusade: The Moody Bible Institute’s Outreach to Public Schools and the Mainstreaming of Appalachia, 1921-1966,” Church History 75:3 (September 2006): 565-593.]

            Looking over my notes as I thought about the meanings of the Bible in Fundamentalist America, I came across my collection from this research.  As usual, there was a lot more material than what I could use in the article. 

            This will be the last of these collected posts from BICA and MBI. See other posts from this series HERE and HERE.  Most of the material is available at the Moody Bible Institute in downtown Chicago.  The people there were very accommodating and friendly on my visits, and the archive is certainly worth a visit if you’re in the area. 

            I won’t argue that these materials somehow capture any single essence of fundamentalist attitudes about the power of the Bible.  That would be far too simplistic.  But I do believe that the attitudes toward the Bible expressed in these materials give a window into a commonly held fundamentalist vision of the nature of Holy Scripture.  As we’ll see, the Bible missionaries from Chicago believed the Word had a unique power.  The Gospels, to them—and, I argue, to many fundamentalists in the 1920s and since—meant more than just a collection of edifying religious messages.  As we’ll see, many of these Bible missionaries held a fundamentalist belief in the saving power of this powerful text. 

The inspiration for the Moody Bible Institute missionaries to deliver Bibles to the Southern Appalachian region came from the apparent lack of reading material of all kinds in the region.  In the 1920s, ‘30s, and ‘40s, the Chicago missionaries saw the “mountaineers” as particularly ready for literature outreach.  The reasons to send Bibles instead of humans were many.  First of all, Bibles were cheaper and easier to crate and ship.  Second, the Bible had a supernatural power to convert.  As one missionary proclaimed in 1921, the Gospels formed “the most unique, the most startling, the most compelling, and most unearthly message that has ever commanded God’s attention.”  No matter how talented a human missionary, he or she could not hope to compare with the words of the Gospel itself.  But another reason why Bibles made good missionaries was because the people of the region desperately wanted reading material of any kind.  Folks starved for reading material, the argument went, would eagerly read the Bible if only they could get one.  And by reading the Bible, they would be convinced by its supernatural power; they would embrace Fundamentalist Protestantism.  As one fundraising brochure from 1940 called it, this crusade could preach the gospel to the poor by using the “printed page.”

Many children from the region craved book ownership, it seemed, much more than they craved enlightenment.  Many of the Chicago book missionaries capitalized on that notion to satisfy young people’s lust for books with a healthy desire for the Gospel.  This picture of children in front of their log school was meant to show children’s appreciation for the Gospel.  It also shows, though, how much young people liked to have a book of their own.

These images from the Moody Bible Institute’s outreach tell us something about fundamentalist attitudes toward the Bible.  For many people, especially those without access to many books, the Bible served as both a religious text and a status symbol.  Both the Appalachian schoolkids and the Chicago Bible missionaries accepted this premise.  The Chicago missionaries played up this appeal by instituting a traditional Sunday-school Gospel-memorization strategy.  If schoolkids memorized a certain number of Bible passages, the missionaries would reward them with a Bible of their own.  Missionaries saw the lust for Bibles as a healthy desire for spiritual uplift.  Some of the schoolkids eagerly participated in the memorization program merely out of their desire to own books of their own.  They conflated their desire for ownership with their desire for salvation.

Also, this campaign shows us how evangelical Protestant missionaries in the early twentieth century tended to present their targets as different from themselves.  The missionaries may have been well-to-do—or at least middle-class—urban, Northern whites.  The folks they hoped to reach with their Bible outreach were consistently presented as something else.  Here, that other-ness was the “mountain” aspect of Appalachian life.  The little kids with their tiny log school, the farmers with their ancient wagon technology, or even simply the description of targeted populations as “The Poor,” all of these markers separated the missionaries themselves from those they hoped to reach.  As we’ve seen, by the middle of the twentieth century these Fundamentalist Protestant Bible missionaries had shifted their understanding of their targets.  Instead of consistently distancing their targets from themselves, by the mid-1940s these Bible missionaries presented their targets as white middle-class urban and suburban people.  This shift in Bible outreach tells us a great deal about the changing nature of Fundamentalist America in the twentieth century.  These Bible missionaries came to see themselves as reaching out in their own neighborhoods, to people like themselves. They no longer assumed that the only ones in need of soul-saving work were in far-away locations with exotic cultures.  Fundamentalist America came to see itself as working close to home.