Matters of Opinion: The New Scarlet Letter
Call someone a fundamentalist and watch what happens.
By Vincent Bacote | posted 11/13/2000 12:00AM
Fundamentalist. Just saying the word evokes any number of negative responses, from disdainful sneers to incredulous rolling of the eyes to sighs of frustration and exasperation. Try it some time: bring up some topic of conversation where you can slip in the word fundamentalist, and watch what happens.
In the academic circles I frequent, if one gets tabbed with the fundamentalist label, it is a fast track to disrespect and disregard within the havens of critical thinking. The first time I went to the American Academy of Religion's annual meeting in 1995, I overheard a fellow Drew University student refer to Drew theologian Thomas Oden, whose book Requiem challenges the orthodoxy of mainline seminaries, as a "fundamentalist heresy-hunter." This shocked me, because while Oden is certainly conservative in his theology, he is hardly a "fighting fundy." In fact, in hardcore fundamentalist circles he might be considered a liberal.
Yet to those outside evangelicalism, the "f-word" is a convenient term for any Christian who votes Republican and who takes the Bible just a little too literally. And for many mainstream evangelicals, the term denotes a narrow-minded, anti-intellectual camp of believers who resist the inevitable march of progress and perceive themselves as a kind of higher spiritual caste, too holy to sully themselves by engagement with others. Regardless of who it is, there are few I've met—evangelical, liberal, or otherwise—who find anything favorable in fundamentalists.
The joy of fundamentalism
But does fundamentalism really deserve this kind of dismissal? I believe some significant value can be found in fundamentalism, at least the Christian variety. In fact, there is a kind of comfort within the fundamentalist world. By comfort, I don't mean a spiritual equivalent to a deluded haze; I mean a genuine state of peace and rest.
Although fundamentalist has become an epithet for intolerance, the origin of what we call fundamentalism is hardly that odious. Fundamentalist is a title taken by people who, reacting to the rising hegemony of rationalism and scientific approaches to the Bible and theology (i.e., secularism), stated what they believed were the essentials of orthodoxy: Christ's Virgin Birth, his bodily resurrection, his substitutionary Atonement, the inerrancy of Scripture, and miracles.
It is also true that many adherents of the fundamentals pursued a path of strict separation from the pagan elements of society. This, along with militant rhetoric and action (within denominations, for example), has catalyzed many of the negative responses to fundamentalism.
In their zeal for shielding their brand of orthodox Christianity and safeguarding the flock from the wolves of modernity, some fundamentalists overplayed their hand, creating a culture of legalism and fear that ends up being as pathological as protective. There are many good people who have been stung rather than soothed by fundamentalist religion.
Still, fundamentalists should not be vilified. There are some flaws in their approach to being "in but not of the world," but there is a real comfort in the fundamentalist worldview. Christian fundamentalists know that they are separate from the surrounding cultural ethos and that this is by choice. There's something refreshing about knowing exactly where you stand in relation to the world, particularly when you're convinced that you are in the right place.
The common perception is that all fundamentalists have lives characterized by the antithesis of joy: fear, repression, or any other term that implies a religious pressure cooker. But who would subject themselves to this kind of life?