Nasty and Nice in Politics and Religion

A half-truth is, more often than not, the half that we prefer to believe, or prefer that others believe. David Brooks, now a columnist for the New York Times , observes: “These days political parties grow more orthodox, while religions grow more fluid. In the political sphere, there is conflict and rigid partisanship. In the religious sphere, there is mobility, ecumenical understanding, and blurry boundaries. If George Bush and Howard Dean met each other on a political platform, they would fight and feud. If they met in a Bible study group and talked about their eternal souls, they’d probably embrace.” That’s a half-truth very nicely put.

Mr. Brooks has read and has been, unfortunately, unduly impressed by Alan Wolfe’s The Transformation of American Religion, which argues that religion in America is now totally captive to the American Way of Life, which is, in turn, indistinguishable from Mr. Wolfe’s putatively tolerant secularism (see my reflection on Wolfe’s thesis, “The Superficial in Pursuit of the Superficial,” Public Square, December 2003). Echoing Wolfe, Brooks depicts evangelical Protestantism in particular as an anodyne mix of optimism, self-help, and doctrinally indifferent hustling in the marketplace of American spiritualities, all of which are faithful to “the national creed.” The national creed is that creeds don’t matter. “Evangelical churches are part of mainstream American culture, not dissenters from it,” writes Brooks, following Wolfe.

As with most caricatures, this caricature of religion in America, and of evangelicalism in particular, contains considerable truth. Religion in America, like America itself, is so vast and so various that almost any caricature is amply supported by evidence. Half-truths are, after all, half true. I will not repeat what I wrote in the above mentioned reflection on why it is reasonable to think that Alan Wolfe, not to put too fine a point on it, doesn’t know what he is talking about when it comes to what the great majority of Americans think, believe, and do religiously. Both Mr. Wolfe and Mr. Brooks want to reassure their enlightened and mainly secular readership—and I expect they do share the same readership—that the “religious right” is largely a myth and that religion in the public square is really quite harmless. These deliverances have a piquant note. Only in America, as it is said, does one have two Jews publicly certifying that Christianity is, in Mr. Wolfe’s phrase, “safe for democracy.” We Christians are grateful, I’m sure. Where do we apply for citizenship?

Harold Bloom rendered a similar service several years ago with his book The American Religion , which argued that American Christianity is really not very Christian. It is, rather, Gnosticism with a few vestigial elements of a distinctively Christian tradition. Mr. Bloom’s book is a playfully provocative reading of popular religious sensibilities, and I’ve come to think more of it than I did when I first reviewed it in Commentary . His argument goes some way toward explaining the bestseller status of Elaine Pagels and others who peddle the Gospel of Thomas and Gnostic spiritualities as “alternative” Christianities. What we have in all these cases, however, are Jewish thinkers offering revisionist accounts of a “Christian America” that many American Jews view as threatening. The classic reference in this connection is Will Herberg’s 1955 study, Protestant, Catholic, Jew , which presented religion as providing identity markers within a common civic piety.

The “Orthodox” and the “Fluid”

The Jewish sense of insecurity in an overwhelmingly Christian society is perfectly understandable, and perhaps even necessary, but what all these accounts have in common is the claim that Christianity in America is not threatening because it is not very Christian. The greater truth, I believe, is that Christianity has become more authentically Christian as it has, over the last half century, made great strides in theologically internalizing the abiding bond with living Judaism in obedience to the God of Israel. But that greater truth is largely lost on all but the relatively few Jewish thinkers engaged in the related dialogues and scholarship of the last fifty years.

It is a great pity, because the alternative strategy of grounding a sense of Jewish security in the hope of the evacuation or disappearance of Christianity in America is dead-ended. To put it bluntly: Most Christians do not appreciate being told by Jews that they are not really Christians, for, if they were, they would not be so friendly to Jews. That suggestion is very impolite and has, in addition, the distinct disadvantage of being false. It is precisely “orthodox” Christianity that securely grounds the bond with Jews and Judaism, and “fluid” Christianity that is, well, fluid—as in liberalism’s —go with the flow.” A not insignificant case in point: Are liberal or conservative Christians more solicitous of the security of Israel?

I do not wish to be too hard on Mr. Brooks. I know him as a fine fellow and he does not, after all, claim to be a scholar of American religion. But his use of the Wolfe thesis is part and parcel of the problem under discussion. Brooks has a track record as a conservative political pundit, and one can appreciate why he wants to make the argument that the Southern Baptist Convention, for instance, is “part of mainstream American culture.” For readers of the New York Times , that gives the definition of “the mainstream” a big push to the right. Brooks, of course, is correct about where the mainstream is, if the mainstream is defined by where the American people mainly are. But I suspect Mr. Brooks is being more than a little disingenuous in his contrasting of political partisanship and religious amity. These are not two separated worlds. Brooks is, I am sure, familiar with the very substantial research showing that the most important single variable in partisan political alignments is, precisely, religion. Churchgoers are, or lean toward, the Republicans, while non-church goers, the nonreligious, and the explicitly anti-religious are overwhelmingly Democrats.

Mr. Brooks’ liberal readers are not likely to be taken in by his ploy. They are religiously committed to the belief that they are the mainstream and their mission is to ward off the barbarians whose only claim to being the mainstream is that they constitute the great majority of the people. His farther leftward readers are only too ready to admit, indeed to proudly trumpet, that they are dissenters from “mainstream American culture,” which does not detract from but only reinforces their conviction that they are anointed to govern America.

As for George Bush embracing Howard Dean at a Bible study, I’m sure he might. If Mr. Dean showed up, which seems extremely unlikely. After all, he left his local Episcopal church, which he says he seldom attended, over a dispute about a bike trail. His disputes with George Bush are somewhat more substantial than that. And, at bottom, some of those disputes probably have a good deal to do with religion. One thinks, for instance, of abortion, faith-based initiatives, the impossibility of same-sex marriage, parental choice in education, and the belief that God intends the world’s people to be free, toward which end the U.S. is morally obliged to play a part, even the leading part. One may disagree with President Bush on all these questions, or agree with him, on grounds that have little or nothing to do with religion. But I do not think there is a reasonable doubt that, in the mind of George Bush, these and other questions are closely related to his understanding of what it means to be a faithful Christian. There is no reason to believe, and every reason not to believe, that Mr. Dean shares that understanding. Which would not prevent President Bush from embracing Mr. Dean as a wayward brother—giving him the benefit of the doubt as Christians are wont to do.

In sum, the Wolfe-Brooks claims about the public insignificance of religion in America are, in addition to being deeply insulting to Christians, quite implausible. Maybe Brooks’ argument is better than the Times ’ usual and somewhat fanatical crusading against the dangers posed by “the religious right,” but not by much. There is a measure of dignity attached to being viewed as dangerous, and none at all to being deemed innocuous. But it may be unfair to link Wolfe and Brooks so closely. Mr. Wolfe, for all his pretensions to scholarship, is simply ignorant about religion in America, while Mr. Brooks, knowing he is ignorant, makes the innocent mistake of relying on Mr. Wolfe. If Mr. Brooks is guilty of anything, it is probably of nothing more than being a talented social and political pundit who is sometimes too clever by half. Which, of course, brings us back to the dangers of half-truths.