True Radicalism
The Roots of American Order, by Russell Kirk (Open Court, 1974, 534 pp., $15), is reviewed by Thomas Howard, professor of English, Gordon College, Wenham, Massachusetts.
The key words in the title of Russell Kirk’s book, “roots” and “order,” are germane to any Bicentennial reflections on what America is and where it is going.
The political left has pre-empted the word “radical.” Indeed, a case can fairly easily be made that as the word is used in popular politics now, it means merely “drastic.” It pertains to a view of things that, while proposing sweeping changes in social and moral conditions, seldom has the patience and modesty to go to the radix, the root. In other words, “radical,” at least as we know it in the United States now, means its own opposite: superficial (viz., the student revolts of the late sixties, or the various brands of “new” politics that appear weekly).
The other word in Kirk’s title is equally germane. Order. Any society—feudal, Maoist, or Jeffersonian—has to have some understanding of the nature of its own ordering of things if it is going to preserve and defend that order. Order is what makes moral and social existence—in fact existence itself—possible. Chaos and anarchy stand, not just over against moral and social order, but over against existence. Mao knows this as well as Genghis Khan.
In this study Russell Kirk goes all the way back. His thesis is that order is necessary to any existence called human, and that this order is moral. He asserts that this thesis has been demonstrated in history.
Kirk begins historically with “The Law and the Prophets.” The Old Testament is not always included in discussions of American democracy. Indeed, popular imagination often sees, no doubt, an antinomy between this democracy and the dreadful, absolutist, supernaturalistic, legalistic, Yahwist order in ancient Israel. But this is to miss our debt to Israel, which is at the very least the understanding that God is the source of order and justice, and that what binds a healthy society together is covenant, not just between man and man, but between those men and God. The prophets kept alive the ethical meaning of human existence by their shrill denunciation of sin—not just of fornication, as is often suggested in caricatures of the prophets, but of all forms of violence, corruption, oppression, indulgence, and so forth. A great legacy from Israel to us is the notion of man under God, and the corollary notion of the impossibility of any humanly constructed utopia.
The history of Greece furnishes us with a “cautionary tale” of class conflict, disunity, and internecine violence. “The ancient Greeks failed in this,” says Kirk: “they never learned how to live together in peace and justice.” Kirk argues that, while Plato and Socrates were not direct influences on our founding fathers, yet their vision was there, in the fabric of Western tradition, “reminding some men that there endures a realm of ideas more real than the realm of appetites … insisting that if men’s souls are disordered, society becomes no better than a cave or a dust-storm.” On the other hand, “the Greeks’ conviction that religion and culture must be bound up inseparably with the city-state went against the grain of American individualism.… The Greeks would have been astounded that such a nation-state [as America], unconsecrated to the gods, could endure for a decade.”
Our debt to the Roman ideas of ius civile (law for the franchised citizens), ius gentium (for all the people), and ius naturale (fundamental principles founded on ethical norms) is well enough known, and Kirk emphasizes this. His account of the decline of Rome, with the insoluble problem of centralization, and the increase of taxation and bureaucracy, and the draining off of the ancient religious order into the vagaries of emperor worship and the mystery cults, is self-evidently relevant to our own experience. Over against the public moral decline stood the lonely figure of Marcus Aurelius, the Stoic emperor, whose view did not carry the day.
The Christian order, such as it was, supplanted the Roman order in the West. The chaotic nature of the “Christian” centuries itself may bear out the Augustinian canon that we live in a sinful world, and that there is no salvation to be looked for from the political order. To the Christian outlook the American fathers owed their ideas of individual worth, of the equality of all men before God, and of the limitation of earthly authority. The medieval patrimony of law, of slowly developing representative government (especially in England), of the effort to achieve a balance between church and state, of language, of commerce, and of learning (viz., the great universities) “was so much taken for granted by the men who founded the American Republic that they did not even trouble themselves to praise it so much as they should have done,” Kirk observes.
The American fathers shared the Reformers’ rejection of the Renaissance as a blending of “licentious paganism with corrupt Catholicism.” But among the legacies of the Reformation to America, we must also include the great energy and individualism that characterized the formative years of our civilization.
In seventeenth-century England we find Hobbes, whose influence on English and American thinking was enormous, divorcing as he did politics from religion; and Bunyan, celebrating the meaning of individual life as a pilgrimage towards God; and Locke, urging the ideas of natural contract and the right to property. In our own colonial order we find a growing toleration of religious and philosophical outlooks, a rejection of aristocracy (notably in South Carolina), the rise of representative assemblies, and the appearance of Deism, which, despite the influence of Wesley, Whitefield, and Edwards, eventually dominated official American imagination. In the eighteenth century, influences that Kirk touches among others are those of Hume (politics as the art of the possible), Blackstone (the notion of precedent as a determining factor in jurisprudence), and Edmund Burke (civil liberty comes, not from Nature, but from experience, convention, and compromise).
There is very little similarity between the American and the French revolutions, in Kirk’s view. The American Revolution attached itself always to history and experience rather than to slogans and utopian ideas. Our Constitution reflects the tension between order and freedom, and presupposes religious belief. Our fathers insisted on a government of laws, not of men.
Kirk advances his last chapter with a small demurral. It is entitled “Contending Against American Disorder.” This might appear to be going beyond the terrain he set himself in his title, but, he argues, it is necessary “to say something about the troubled reality of order, and the idea of order, in nineteenth-century America.” This is fairly familiar to most of us, but Kirk provides an angle on it that very, very few of us will have encountered in our schooling. He advances the name of Orestes Brownson as perhaps the most perspicacious critic of nineteenth-century America. Brownson, a New Englander, moved through most of the varieties of American religion (Congregationalism, Presbyterianism, Universalism, Unitarianism, and the like) in his search for authority. He was finally received into the Catholic Church, a very un American move in those days. But his move makes sense, though it may have cost him the attention of American historians. He criticized the merely democratic suppositions that were at work in American imagination (suppositions that no orthodox Christian can quite buy), and he insisted on a fixed moral order as necessarily underlying any healthy political life.
Kirk has chosen an astute commentator on American life for the ending of his book. Brownson’s observations need no updating.
Two things remain to be said. First, Kirk has included a large chronology, bibliography, and index to his book—always welcome in a work of this magnitude. Second, anyone who wishes to reflect and talk on the topic “America,” and especially any Christian who wishes to do so, will do himself a favor if he reads Kirk’s book.
World Religions And Political Revolutions
Religion and Revolution, by Guenter Lewy (Oxford, 1974, 694 pp., $17.50), is reviewed by James Tinney, Ph.D. candidate in political science, Howard University, Washington, D.C.
By examining case studies of the interrelationships between religion and revolution in more than a dozen countries, Lewy seeks to test the often repeated charge that religion is a political opiate of the people. While he does not think it is possible to identify any certain number of variables that would enable one to predict the “revolutionary index” of a particular religion, he does note three ways in which religion often contributes to revolution: (1) by supplying a sense of militant nationalism when a colonial regime is indifferent to indigenous religion; (2) by seeking to preserve the legitimacy of its own mission or leaders when they are threatened with replacement by political regimes; (3) by developing theologies of revolution.
While Lewy develops a strong rebuttal to the argument that religion is anti-political or anti-revolutionary, he is careful to balance his arguments with case studies that also have been used by his opponents. The major conclusion is that religion may serve equally as a protector of the status quo and as a revolutionary force. It both integrates and disrupts society. It bars and promotes change. The same set of facts and circumstances may be variously interpreted by religious leaders, and used either to sanctify or overthrow rulers-that-be.
Some differences are observable in the political roles of the major religions, however. Lewy concludes that Hinduism offers no basis for social change or protest since it does not view human beings as equal before God. Pre-Muslim India knows of no successful popular revolt, he claims, although Hinduism does hold that kingship is subordinate to divine law and, if not representative of divine law, may justifiably be overthrown.
Confucianism teaches that the difference between the ruler and the bandit depends entirely upon who holds power (the ruler) and who does not (the bandit). They are positioned as they are because of their virtue, or lack of it, though their roles might be reversed. In such cases, the coups are generally bloodless because of Confucianism’s emphasis on kindness and peace. Only the ruler can petition heaven itself; the people are given a plethora of lesser gods to petition. If the people were to pray to heaven directly, this would be interpreted as a plea for political power.
Buddhism accepts inequalities and teaches, much as Protestant fundamentalists do, that any transformation of society must be the result of personal transformation of individuals. Good rulers might become future Buddhas, and the monks’ collection of much property leads to royal pat onage. Thus whoever becomes an enemy of Buddhism also becomes an enemy of the ruler.
Judaism teaches strict adherence to tradition and law, and the perpetual reign of David’s throne, says Lewy. This is not divine kingship in the perfect sense, though the ruler carries God’s blessings in administrating the theocracy. The nation is messianic itself and eschatological, but some look for an eschatological messiah to usher in a perfect kingdom.
Islam sees no division between the church and state, politics and religion. The country is a commonwealth where God and his word are supreme; Muhammad was his vice-regent on earth. The caliphs who followed often died an unnatural death. When this happened it was interpreted as God’s judgment (indeed, whatever happens is, in Islamic teaching, justified). Islamic sects include the Seceders (who killed all who disagreed), the Shi’a (non-Arab Muslims who seek equality and look for the return of a personal messiah or Mahdi), and the Isma’ilis (whose secret knowledge supposedly frees them from obedience to the law of the land).
Christianity has been variously interpreted by its followers, says Lewy. Some have proclaimed Christ as a Zealot revolutionary bent on destroying oppression by Roman imperialists. Others have looked for his messianic return to set up a millenarian paradise and/or accomplish an eschatological judgment of nations. Followers have been sometimes defenders of the just war (such as Aquinas), separatists, or establishers of church-state linkages.
Lewy pays particular attention to “revolutionary millenarianism.” This is an admixture of several trends; he defines it as “a religiously inspired mass movement seeking imminent, total, ultimate, this-worldly, terrestrial, collective salvation” to be achieved through both human action and the aid of a supernatural agency.
Lewy also devotes a chapter to the development of liberation theology among Latin American Christians. His own conclusion, supported by Jacques Ellul, is that Christian intellectuals specialize in joining struggles that are virtually over.
Enough struggles continue in this world, however, and this author believes that religion will play a role in many of them, as it has in others in the past. This book provides a very comprehensive treatment of the subject.
BRIEFLY NOTED
Two nineteenth-century evangelicals who were among the most influential not only in their own time but down to the present have finally received appropriate biographical treatment. Fanny Crosby (1820–1915), by Bernard Ruffin (Pilgrims Press, 257 pp., $8), is about a blind woman who is best known today for some of her 9,000 hymns but who did far more than write. George Müller (1805–1898), by Roger Steer (Harold Shaw, 351 pp., $7.95), is about the Prussian immigrant to England who is chiefly remembered for his huge orphanage houses and the unsolicited gifts that sustained them. However, his activities were of far wider scope. Both of these books belong in church and school libraries. They require a little more effort to read but are much more inspirational than the “pop” testimonies by contemporary personalities.
Tolerance and Movements of Religious Dissent in Eastern Europe, edited by Béla Király (Columbia University, 227 pp., $12), contains a dozen essays focusing on particular aspects of conflict from the sixteenth through nineteenth centuries in the region now largely Communist. It serves also to show precedents for more recent persecution. Religion and Atheism in the U.S.S.R. and Eastern Europe, by Bohdan Bociurkiw and John Strong (University of Toronto, 412 pp., $17.50), presents twenty essays largely concerned with post-World War II developments. Both books consider persecution of other religions than Christianity. (There are, for example, probably no more than 500 working mosques in the U.S.S.R for a Muslim constituency of some 40 million.)
Bicentennial fare from three denominations: Notebook of a Colonial Clergyman, by Henry Melchior Muhlenberg (Fortress, 250 pp., $3.50 pb), selections from the journals from 1742 through 1787 of a leading Lutheran; Bibles and Battle Drums, by Truett Rogers (Judson, 158 pp., $7.95), about David Jones, a Baptist pastor who served as a chaplain with Washington’s army; and John Witherspoon: Parson, Politican, Patriot, by Martha Lou Lemmon Stohlman (Westminster, 176 pp., $5.95), an informal biography of the Presbyterian leader who was the only minister to sign the Declaration of Independence.
The key paradox of the American ideal, the legacy of which still affects the nation momentously, is the subject of two scholarly but readable studies, Slavery and the Churches in Early America 1619–1819, by Lester Scherer (Eerdmans, 163 pp., $5.95), and American Slavery, American Freedom, by Edmund Morgan (Norton, 454 pp., $11.95). Morgan focuses on Virginians, who were leaders in drafting the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights, who served for all but four of the first thirty-six years of the American presidency, and who held 40 per cent of the nation’s slaves.
What does the Bible really say about the role of women? And what are the applications of biblical principles for today? Four evangelical women offer their answers. In Search of God’s Ideal Woman, by Dorothy Pape (InterVarsity, 370 pp., $4.95 pb), is a thorough examination of all the New Testament passages and is probably the most important book on this subject so far this year. Up From Eden, by Kathryn Lindskoog (David C. Cook, 139 pp., $2.95 pb), and A Woman’s Worth and Work, by Karen Helder DeVos (Baker, 101 pp., $2.95 pb), are more informal and focus on the present with flashbacks to relevant Scriptures. The Magna Charta of Women, by Jessie Penn-Lewis (Bethany Fellowship, 103 pp., $ 1.50 pb), reprints a 1919 exegetical study by a widely traveled woman preacher.
One aspect of the widespread interest in the role of women is their status as religious leaders. Christianity has traditionally offered a much greater leadership role than have other religions, but many contend that what it has offered is not good enough. Toward a New Theology of Ordination, edited by Marianne Micks and Charles Price (Greeno, Hadden. 111 pp., $3.95 pb), presents nine essays with biblical and theological bases for ordaining women to the Episcopal priesthood. Carter Heyward, who was one of the eleven supposedly so ordained in 1974, tells her own story in A Priest Forever (Harper & Row, 146 pp., $6.95). In the United Presbyterian Church, women have full ordination rights; Elizabeth Howell Verdesi tells the story of power bases in official agencies won and then lost twice in this century within that denomination in In But Still Out (Westminster, 218 pp., $3.95 pb). Although concerned with women, this study of denominational politics will be of interest to others who feel left out. A variety of denominations, including Judaism, are represented in chats with some thirty women who are engaged in pastoral ministry in Women in the Pulpit, by Priscilla and William Proctor (Doubleday, 176 pp., $6.95). The varying motivations, experiences, and frustrations, rather than heavy theology, are the subject.
In the wake of books advocating change it male-female patterns there are still many defending a more traditional role. Three from Christian Herald House are Marigold Mornings, by Dorothy Evslin (213 pp., $6.95) Where the Heart Is, by Florence Roe Wiggins (131 pp. $5.95), and Let Me Be a Woman, by Tyndale (190 pp., $5.95). A similar book is A Woman’s Place, by Mark Kinney Branson (Accent, 160 pp., $1.95 pb).
The Liberated Palestinian, by James and Marti Hefley, is the story of Anis Shorrosh, a leading Palestinian evangelical born in Nazareth (Victor, 172 pp., $2.95 pb). He is now in full-time evangelism. His story illuminates the less-known side of the Israeli-Arab conflict.
Following the post-World War I challenges from neo-orthodoxy in academic circles and from fundamentalism at the grass roots, theological liberalism and the related social-gospel movement were thought to be dead, both in theory and in practice. Not so, according to these two fine studies by supporters of the movement. The Social Gospel: Religion and Reform in Changing America, edited by Ronald C. White, Jr., and C. Howard Hopkins (Temple University, 306 pp., $15, and $6.95 pb), intersperses primary and secondary sources in a running narrative review of nineteenth-and twentieth-century religion-based social activism. In The Modernist Impulse in American Protestantism (Harvard, 347 pp., n.p.), William Hutchinson finds there was indeed a definite theology of liberalism and of social reform rather than merely an attitude of “openness.” which is what fundamentalists contended all along. The author finds himself now more sympathetic to that theology than he was in earlier days when he was influenced by neo-orthodoxy.
Christian teaching in the first few centuries after the apostles is the subject of three expensive but essential books for theological libraries. Maurice Wiles and Mark Santer have arranged fifty-eight excerpts from the major church fathers into the traditional categories of systematic theology in Documents in Early Christian Thought (Cambridge, 268 pp., $22.50). A Scripture index would have helped. Ethical Patterns in Early Christian Thought by Eric Osborn (Cambridge, 252 pp., $21) focuses on Clement, Basil, Chrysostom, and Augustine. Osborn examines various aspects, such as love or natural law, in the light of current discussion. A widely heralded classic on the history of Christology is now available in a major revision: Christ in Christian Tradition, Volume One: From the Apostolic Age to Chalcedon, by Aloys Grillmeier (John Knox, 599 pp., $22). About one-third of the book is new material.
Three notable books about blacks and prayer: The Prayers of African Religion, by John Mbiti (Orbis, 193 pp., $7.95), and Prayer in the Religious Traditions of Africa, by Aylward Shorter (Oxford, 143 pp., $7.95, and $2.95 pb), gather by subject scores of prayers from the tribal religions; The Prayer Tradition of Black People (Judson, 142 pp., $6.95) has more interpretation and treats Christianity-based praying of Afro-Americans.
Jerome, by J.N.D. Kelly (Harper & Row, 353 pp., $15), is the first major biography in English of one of the most influential figures for early and medieval Christianity.
What happened before the events of the book and movie, The Hiding Place? See Corrie ten Boom’s In My Father’s House (Revell, 192 pp., $6.95).
NEW PERIODICAL
Books, cassettes, visual aids, and other communications resources available to religious educators are noted and continually reviewed in Religious Media Today, which began quarterly publication with the April, 1976, issue. Catholic participation in the project is high, but liberal and conservative Protestants are involved also (432 Park Avenue South, New York, N. Y. 10016; $8/year).
