The post over at Unsupervised Learning interviewing Ryan Burge is subscriber only on my desktop. I can read only a little, and I can listen to but 20 minutes out of a 50 minute podcast. But I can listen to it in full on my device and get at the full transcript, though it is clunky to read it there. I'm old. I don't like long-form reading on a phone. I can use it to extract specific quotes or review a section, but it's usually not otherwise worth my effort.
I like Burge. His substack Graphs About Religion is quite interesting, and I don't doubt his use of data. But his generation is showing in his analysis. He is the age of my two oldest sons and of bsking. He has an impression, I think accurate and fitting the data of how many people have claimed to be evangelical over the years, that there was a more unified evangelical popular culture in the 1990's. Evangelical kids went to large festivals, listened to common music, had similar t-shirts and other merch, and shared cultural beliefs more than they did before and after. He grew up Southern Baptist himself, and is now American Baptist, a much less evangelical branch.
He points specifically to the political uniculture that everyone was and is expected to be right wing, and it clearly frosted him then and still does. Perhaps that is a little strong. At minimum, he feels it is confining, limiting. I tend to agree. I was always conscious of only partly sharing the common beliefs when my children were in Christian schools.
But he errs greatly in seeing this as some divisive force that grew up in the 80s and topped out in the 90s, referencing Newt Gingrich. That movement was very much a counter-reaction. The evangelicals did not decide to separate from popular culture so much as recognise that they were positively hated in the shiny bright culture who thought they were smarter and better. The religious left, whose existence was denied for many years, aspired to be part of this NYT/WaPo NYC publishing, academic culture, held the reins of power in American religion. The seminaries and faculty of denominational schools tilted left, so that a liberal clergy and conservative laity was common across the mainstream denominations. They gravitated to headquarters and boards, and they decided where the charitable and political action money was going to be spent. Not only UCC and Episcopal churches funded radical causes in other countries, but even the Methodists, Lutherans, and Presbyterians, etc did so as well.
I was in a more conservative denomination teaching a middle school unit on the Ten Commandments and receiving materials from the publishing arm at headquarters and was given things like advocating for minimum wage increase under the category of Thou Shalt Not Steal. The social gospel held the institutional power and saw it threatened and lashed back in hatred. I grew up UCC, and I read enough of CS Lewis's commentary on what was happening in C of E in the 40s and 50s to know that this had been going on a long time and was deeply embedded.
We didn't start the fire.
3 comments:
I have seen some examples of "evangelical" equated or at least used in the same sentence as "White Supremacist".
I believe that being "evangelical" just means that people are invited to join the church at the end of the church service. That doesn't seem the least
bit supremacist or strange to me, having been raised a Southern Baptist.
Even though I am irreligious, I believe (used that word again) that my grandchildren should go to Sunday School, and not just the Unitarian kind.
The Bible stories, and the social experience at church in my childhood and youth were valuable to me.
Unitarian teen Sunday School led my daughter to attend a camp where she met her future husband so give that a point advantage to UUs.
The best Baptist thing was Sunday evening "Training Union" where you and the other teens shared your impressions and ideas about current events and
current teen things. The class was led by young adults, that is, twenty-somethings. I vaguely remember talk about Woodstock, and around that time some guy brought a portable stereo, with turntable, to Play Jimi Hendrix's version of the National Anthem. I suppose he was making a personal statement, orsomething. It certainly started a big discussion. I felt free to say whatever I thought, so the "Training" wasn't really indoctrinating.
There was another church teen thing, which was to put on Christian Musical Theater shows. It was commonly thought that if even one soul accepted Jesus and was saved after you performed, you had done your bit to follow the Great Commission (sharing the Gospel).
I really couldn't sing, so I would never help save anybody.
Except the church had been helping with Vacation Bible Schools in South Dakota, and I could go.
South Dakota! I Would Be Seeing The Country! And also, this would give me cred with the other teens at church.
I would be an actual Home Missionary.
Our youth minister gave us the rules: No Drinking + No Smokihg + No Dating. No Problem for me. At 15, I didn't have either the urge or the nerve to do
those things anyway. Heck. I didn't even share a protest song at Training Union.
One VBS was in Rapid City, the other at Kyle, on the Oglala Sioux Reservation in the Badlands.
Even Rapid City was exotic to me.
The first morning of VBS, I was thinking "What the hell kind of name is Chuck Knigge? I don't Ka-now any Ka-Niggys."
I hope that the Lord made me wise enough not to say such a snotty thing to a little kid, but sometimes his servants are weak.
When we ventured into Indian Territory, some of the locals weren't pleased, and the Injun teens drove by at night honking horns and hollering rude stuff. It was as if they had no appreciation for the fact that we were trying to save their heathen souls.
The next night many of the Lord's servants got weak, so we all got in the the transportation school bus that was parked on the side of the highway.
Then, when the teens came by, they were saluted by a bus's worth of asses.
By the end of our mission, our Saved-Soul count was small or nil. But my takeaway was that, hey, we have been doing good by helping a couple of churches, not scalp hunting for Jesus.
That was fun to read, Dave
Where we stayed had a horse-ranch nearby, where we went and learned to ride amongst the rolling hills. This was a few miles in from The Badlands National Park.
I had never imagined a place so vast and so desolate. We rode from one hill to anthother, taking in the views.
I don't remember which horse it was that decided to go home, but the rest of the horses agreed. As they stampeded back to their barn I bent way forward and tied to grab a hold of the saddlehorn, and dropped my right rein. I was having terrible thoughts about the rein getting tangled with a hoof, so I reached down the horses neck and grabbed the rein. My prayers were in a silent supercondensed form. This was a more intense sequence of events than had ever been hinted at to me, with some lessons.
First off, Horses are pretty damned scary.
Second, Prayer can be both pleading for Divine Providence to give protection, and it can also help you to concentrate and 'be in the moment'.
Looking back, I can guess that whoever owned the ranch was "the church" that wanted a VBS. I suspect that they now have lot to with this church:
Lakota Gospel Missionary Baptist Church
BIA Road 27
Porcupine, SD 57770
The church now has a web site
https://usmb.org/church/lakota-gospel-mb-church/
and a church building. And, I hope, a VBS every year.
I will say a prayer for blessings on Lakota Gospel Missionary Baptist Church.
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