News

Advisory Panel: No More Canadian Military Chaplains Who Believe in Conversion, Male Leadership

Evangelicals object to “extremely troubling” proposal that would exclude many religious groups.

A Canadian soldier trains Ukrainian fighters.

A Canadian soldier trains Ukrainian fighters.

Christianity Today July 1, 2022
Stringer / SPTNK / AP Images

Religious groups in Canada are asking the minister of National Defence to reject an advisory panel’s recommendation for redefining military chaplaincy.

The panel, made up of four veterans, said the military should stop hiring chaplains who believe that polytheists should be converted to Christianity or who think church leadership should be restricted to men.

“The Defence Team … cannot justify hiring representatives of organizations who marginalize certain people or categorically refuse them a position of leadership,” the report said. “These faiths’ dogmas and practices conflict with the commitment of the Defence Team to value equality and inclusivity at every level of the workplace.”

Cardus, a Christian think tank, wrote a letter to the National Defence minister Anita Anand calling these recommendations “extremely troubling” and “explicitly prejudiced.”

It is not the government’s business to tell its soldiers what to believe or not to believe, Brian Dijkema, vice president of external affairs at Cardus, said to CT. “That’s just wrong.”

According to Dijkema, the report demonstrates “a very ignorant understanding of what religions actually do when they talk about their faith” and attempts to push out anyone “who believes that their faith is true and that others should be persuaded of it,” he said.

The advisory panel was not asked to look specifically at the chaplaincy when it was formed in December 2020. It was tasked with identifying the policies, practices, and procedures that enable systemic racism and discrimination. The authors noted, though, how many LGBT people, indigenous people, and women could speak of traumatic religious experiences. And they argued that some religious groups just aren’t compatible with the Canadian military’s commitment to diversity.

The panel also recommended hiring more chaplains from non-Abrahamic faiths and a reevaluation of some educational requirements. The Canadian military has had a multifaith chaplaincy since 2003. While chaplains are affiliated with specific religions or denominations, they serve the spiritual needs of all military members, regardless of their religion. The military does not track the religious affiliation of its members.

Steve Jones, the national president of the Fellowship of Evangelical Baptists and the director of the denomination’s chaplains, said he was “blindsided” by the report’s recommendations. The Fellowship has had military chaplains for decades—its chaplaincy directory lists nine currently—and has a good relationship with the military, he said.

The Baptist chaplains are committed to working with people with diverse beliefs and religious traditions. So it was “very disappointing,” Jones said, to read the report’s assumption that “monotheistic faiths are faith groups that are somehow not for inclusion or accommodating or loving, that they’re somehow intolerant and go out of their way to discriminate.”

As it’s written, the report implies that most of the current chaplains are in conflict with the military’s commitment to equality and inclusivity.

“The majority of serving chaplains are from faith groups the report deems unacceptable,” said the Evangelical Fellowship of Canada in a statement objecting to the recommendations. “Many who serve in the Canadian Armed Forces, like citizens in the general population, are adherents of traditions that would fall within the ambit of this report. The Canadian Armed Forces reflects the diversity of Canadians. Should all who belong to these faith traditions also be excluded from serving in the military in any capacity?”

But it’s not only Christians who have concerns. Marvin Rotrand, national director of the League of Human Rights at B’nai Brith Canada, the country’s oldest independent Jewish organization, said the report “is pushing a form of intolerance and bigotry.”

“It’s not up to the authors of this report to tell the Jewish community what it should believe and how it should believe that,” he said to CT. “We don’t need their approval.”

Rotrand echoed calls for the National Defence minister to clearly, publicly denounce the report’s recommendations.

In a statement to CT, the minister’s spokesperson said the Defence Team is not planning to limit the religious denominations that can serve as chaplains.

“Chaplains from a wide range of faiths have served the members of the Canadian Armed Forces, and will continue to do so in the years to come,” spokesperson Daniel Minden said in a statement. “Minister Anand believes that the chaplaincy should represent Canada’s diversity, uphold the values and principles of the military, and provide CAF members with access to spiritual or religious guidance if they seek it, regardless of their faith.”

At the same time, the spokesperson emphasized the minister’s appreciation for the advisory panel’s “hard work in producing this final report.”

The department has wanted to increase diversity for a while. A report based on a survey of select military chaplains and military members conducted in January and February 2021 by the Department of National Defence found that chaplaincy is “highly valued by most, although a minority believe the chaplaincy is no longer needed and should be replaced by secular mental health experts or social workers.”

This report—which was not included in the advisory committee’s report—noted the need for more diversity among chaplains. But the survey also found that “the large majority of CAF members did not feel their ethnicity, gender or sexual orientation affected the level of support they received from the chaplaincy, including most women, visible minorities, and Indigenous people.” Half of the LGBT military members who responded to the survey said they received adequate support and care from the chaplaincy services they received. Twenty percent of LGBT members said they felt their sexual orientation impacted the quality of care they received.

Chaplains already go through an extensive vetting process, in part to ensure that they are prepared to work with a wide range of people from a wide range of religious beliefs. Candidates have to get an endorsement, for example, from their own religious organization, then the Interfaith Committee on Canadian Military Chaplaincy, then the Canadian Armed Forces recruiting center. The candidacy process takes between months and years.

As a matter of fact, chaplains help promote inclusion in the military, said Gerald VanSmeerdyk, who served as a chaplain in the Canadian Armed Forces from 2008 to 2021 and was stationed throughout Canada and deployed to Afghanistan.

“They’re an asset,” he said. “Not a liability.”

VanSmeerdyk, who now chaplains at a long-term care facility in British Columbia, joined the military chaplaincy after 14 years pastoring churches with the Christian Reformed Church in North America. Once, when he was deployed to Suffield, Alberta, a training base for both Canadian and British forces, he advocated for the creation of a multifaith chapel when he saw the religious needs of Muslim British soldiers weren’t being met.

“We minister to our own, we facilitate the worship of others, and we care for all,” VanSmeerdyk said. “I believe that the advisory report would have been worded differently if there had been an extensive investigation into the process of hiring suitable candidates for the chaplaincy.”

Working as a chaplain in a public setting like the military is different than pastoring a church, where the assumption is that everyone belongs to the same faith.

Chaplains don’t “overtly try to convert someone to any religion,” explained VanSmeerdyk. Their goal is to care for people’s needs, whether religious needs or otherwise.

Because chaplains earn soldiers’ respect by living and training with them, it can be a natural environment to have conversations about faith. VanSmeerdyk said the soldiers he ministered to knew that he was going through the same things they were. One year, he was home with his family for only 23 days.

Gerry Potter, president of the Military Christian Fellowship Canada and a retired colonel who served in the military for 35 years, said he hopes churches see this report as a call to better support military members and their families. The secularization of Canada is making chaplaincy harder, he said, and many Protestants in the military struggle to talk about their faith.

“I think that there is an increased or increasing need for the Church—capital C—to gain a better understanding of this segment of Canadian society,” Potter said.

News
Wire Story

Fewer Churches Put Patriotism on Display for July 4

Though two-thirds are OK with flying the flag year-round, pastors have become more divided over Independence Day celebrations since 2016.

Christianity Today July 1, 2022
Matt Mawson / Getty Images

Protestant pastors say they will worship God and honor America at church services this weekend, and they’re not too worried churchgoers will confuse the two.

Most pastors (56%) say it’s important to incorporate patriotic elements into worship services the week of July 4th to celebrate America, including 27 percent who strongly agree, according to a Lifeway Research study of 1,000 US Protestant pastors.

Two in five pastors (42%) disagree, and 2 percent aren’t sure.

These findings represent a small decrease from a 2016 Lifeway Research study, when 61 percent of pastors felt such worship service elements were important.

“While not a date on the Christian calendar, most Protestant churches adjust their worship services to acknowledge the birth of the United States each July,” said Scott McConnell, executive director of Lifeway Research. “For most churches, it isn’t just tradition. The majority of pastors agree it’s important to incorporate it into the worship experience.”

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Pastors with no college degree (70%) or a bachelor’s degree (67%) are more likely to see elements celebrating America as important than those with a master’s (46%) or doctoral degree (50%).

Evangelical pastors (64%) are more likely than their mainline counterparts (48%) to value timely patriotic elements in the worship service.

Denominationally, Pentecostal pastors (77%) and those at non-denominational churches (70%) are more likely than Methodist (52%), Lutheran (48%), Presbyterian/Reformed (44%), and Restorationist movement pastors (29%) to see value in special Independence Day additions.

Younger pastors, those 18 to 44, are the most likely to say the worship service doesn’t need patriotic additions (65%).

Specific worship service changes

Regardless of their opinions on the importance of patriotic elements, few pastors have worship services as usual the week of Independence Day. For 15 percent of US Protestant pastors, services are no different than other weeks.

Most pastors say the Fourth of July changes involve honoring veterans and their families as well as patriotic music. A majority say they recognize those with family currently serving in the armed forces (59%), include special music honoring America (58%), recognize living veterans (56%), or recognize families who have lost loved ones in service to our country (54%).

Three in 10 pastors say they include other special ceremonies to honor America, and 14 percent make other changes to the service.

“Changes to July 4th church services today are similar to those described by pastors in 2016 with significant emphasis on people who have served in the military,” said McConnell. “The biggest change is fewer churches including special music related to America (58% compared to 66% in 2016).”

For each of the possible worship service changes, pastors 65 and older and those in the South are among the most likely to say their churches make that change.

Pastors at larger churches, those with attendance of 250 or more, are among the most likely to say their worship services the week of July 4th include recognizing those with family currently serving in the armed forces (68%), living veterans (66%), and families who have lost loved ones in service to our country (63%). Meanwhile, smaller church pastors, those with fewer than 50 in attendance (60%) and those with 50 to 99 (61%), are among the most likely to say their worship service changes include special music honoring America.

Younger pastors, 18- to 44-year-olds, (23%) are among the most likely to say their worship services the week of July 4th are no different from other weeks. Additionally, Restorationist movement pastors (31%) are more likely to make no changes than Baptist (12%), Methodist (12%), Pentecostal (10%), and non-denominational pastors (8%).

Year-round flag display

Apart from any patriotic holidays, two-thirds of US Protestant pastors see nothing wrong with flying the US flag in their church all year long. Lifeway Research found 67 percent say it’s appropriate for a church to display the American flag in worship services throughout the year. Another 28 percent disagree, and 5 percent aren’t sure.

The share of those in favor of year-round flag flying in services is down slightly from the 74 percent who supported such displays in the 2016 Lifeway Research study.

“Some denominations offer specific guidance regarding displaying the American flag, but most congregations decide on their own whether it’s present,” McConnell said. “Because a national flag is a symbol, it often means many different things to different people. So, discussions around the reason for its presence in many churches can be just as diverse.”

Generational and educational divides are evident again, as pastors 65 and older (81%) and those with no college degree (79%) are among the most likely to see year-round American flag displays as acceptable.

Love of country or love of God?

While most churches are comfortable incorporating patriotic elements into their buildings and worship services, some US Protestant pastors worry their congregations may be taking things too far. Almost two in five (38%) say their congregation’s love for America sometimes seems greater than their love for God. Almost three in five (59%) disagree, and 3 percent aren’t sure.

That marks a significant decline from 2016 when most pastors (53%) expressed worry their congregation occasionally had more devotion toward their country than God.

“In the last six years, many pastors’ concerns about patriotic idolatry in their congregations have faded,” said McConnell. “Like any idol, the temptation to prioritize, worship or depend on our nation over God can resurface at any time.”

Younger pastors are more concerned than the oldest pastors. Those 18 to 44 (47%) and 45 to 54 (42%) are more likely than pastors 65 and older (29%) to say their congregation sometimes seems to love America more than God.

Pastors in the South (39%), who are among the most likely to incorporate patriotic elements in worship services, and those in the Midwest (42%) are more likely than pastors in the Northeast (29%) to worry about misplaced devotion.

Books
Review

A Patriotism of Compassion, Not Pomp and Glory

Richard Mouw reflects on the moral and spiritual work of loving your country.

Christianity Today July 1, 2022
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch / Source Images: WikiMedia Commons / 9gifts Kevalee / Getty

What is the most appropriate way for a Christian to relate to his or her country?

How to Be a Patriotic Christian: Love of Country as Love of Neighbor

Few questions have caused more heartburn among American evangelicals in recent years, and different voices beckon us to the extremes. On one side, some urge us to reject any forms of patriotism, lest we be accused of adopting some form of “Christian nationalism.” Others urge us to embrace the notion of “God and country” with few, if any, reservations.

Are these the only options for faithful Christians? Richard J. Mouw doesn’t think so. In his new book, How to Be a Patriotic Christian: Love of Country as Love of Neighbor, Mouw wrestles with the responsibilities and challenges that come with living as believers in particular nations.

Christians first and patriots second

Mouw begins by setting expectations. His goal is not to create a how-to guide, but to establish a “safe place for focusing on basic Christian thoughts … about what it means to be citizens in the nation where the Lord has placed us.” He then defines what he means by “patriotic Christian.” One’s Christianity always takes precedence over one’s patriotism; we are Christians first and patriots second. And for Mouw, patriotism is less about being a political cheerleader and more about “belonging to a community of citizens.” Patriotic Christians, then, are members of an eternal kingdom who care for and invest in their earthly homes.

In chapter 2, Mouw looks at what binds us together as a national community. America’s patriotic songs reflect consistent themes: proud memories of our nation’s past, devotion to certain ideals, and even an affection for the beauty of the land. Such ideals unify Americans. In addition, what binds us together isn’t necessarily the state (the set of rules and governing structures) but the nation (the community of people).

Yet the “human bonds” that constitute our nation are fragile, as Mouw indicates in chapter 3. A decline in civility reflects a broader social decline. “The maintenance of a healthy social bond takes moral and spiritual work,” Mouw writes. “And it seems obvious to many who monitor closely the patterns of our collective interactions that we Americans have not been doing the necessary work.” Reweaving the social fabric will take a commitment to love and dialogue with those who are different than us.

Mouw pivots to the Scriptures in chapters 4 and 5. First, he explores key texts such as Mark 12:17, Romans 13, 1 Peter 2, and Jeremiah 29, highlighting their implications for our relationship to nation and state. Next, he observes Scripture’s teachings on the state’s responsibilities to its citizens. As Mouw observes, Psalm 72 highlights similar themes as the preamble to the Constitution, which speaks of “establish[ing] Justice” and “promot[ing] the general Welfare,” among other aims. In light of this overlap, he argues that the Bible allows for more government activity than merely protecting individual rights and punishing bad behavior.

In chapter 6, Mouw urges us to become better arguers. He makes the case for a pluralistic society, since God desires our obedience to be freely offered, not coerced. And in such an environment, we need to have better conversations. Borrowing from G. K. Chesterton, Mouw observes that “we live in an era of much public quarreling but very little arguing.” We need less shouting and more hard conversations.

What about the relationship between church and state? Mouw touches on this question in chapters 7 and 8. First, he tackles patriotism in the church. Should churches display the American flag or sing patriotic songs in worship gatherings? Mouw argues that such patriotic demonstrations are not necessarily wrong if pastors use them as prompts to teach about a Christian’s relationship to his or her nation. Second, he speaks to religion in public life. While many get queasy at notions of civil religion, public displays of Christian religion can be beneficial to the degree that they point us to transcendent moral standards and correct patterns of injustice. “I certainly wish for more to be said in those contexts than the guidelines regulating the public use of religious concepts will allow,” says Mouw, “but I do not want less.”

In the concluding chapter, Mouw acknowledges that questions of patriotism and national identity stir up such strife because they are deeply meaningful. Our “hopes and fears” are wrapped up in our national identity. We are to love America not because she is perfect, but because she is our home. As a result, we weep when we do not live up to American ideals. We push for change. And we pursue a patriotism, not of pomp and glory, but of compassion.

A surprising balance

How to Be a Patriotic Christian is brief, easy to read, and marked by Mouw’s trademark humility and civility. Unlike many books about faith and government, Mouw is not primarily concerned with political positions, parties, or candidates. His goal is to help us wrestle with the big-picture questions of how Christians relate to our nation.

In a world of polarization, hot takes, and anger, Mouw offers a balanced perspective on potentially combustible topics. Yes, God has blessed our nation, but America is not a chosen nation like Israel. Yes, we can love our nation, but we should not whitewash its past. Yes, we need to pursue just laws, but we also need to win people’s hearts and minds. Yes, we can appreciate a pluralistic public square, but all creation is under God’s rule. Yes, we can display flags and sing patriotic songs in worship spaces, but we should be wary of our tendency to idolize these national symbols.

In each of these topics, polarized voices push us to one extreme or another. But Mouw strikes a surprising balance, and in so doing he helps us think more clearly about our relationship to our country.

Most intriguing was Mouw’s perspective on civil religion—that is, public expressions of Christianity in the public square. Some Christians (like myself) tend to be wary of the excesses and abuses of civil religion, and rightfully so. Mouw does not ignore such failures. He observes that some Americans use religious language to paint an inaccurate picture of our country’s history. Others use it to “baptize the status quo.” Expressions of civil religion are often incomplete, offering paper-thin theological reflections.

But Mouw also carefully observes the benefits of civil religion. References to God or biblical concepts in inauguration speeches or national events point Americans to a divine authority outside of us. Appeals to Scripture can catalyze Americans to correct injustices, as witnessed during the Civil Rights Movement. At a minimum, Mouw argues, expressions of civil religion are “reminders of transcendence, serving the purpose of keeping us aware that there is more to our civic engagement than the ebb and flow of popular opinion and practical political strategizing.”

Sometimes expressions of civil religion are harmful, but not always. “Civil religion at its best also points us to future possibilities correcting the mistakes of our past and present,” Mouw writes. In any event, civil religion is a fact of life. The question is whether we will take advantage of it.

A welcome invitation

Given its brevity, How to Be a Patriotic Christian is not an extensive tome on faith and politics. I, for one, longed for more engagement with the Bible itself. Exegesis is an important part of the book, but it does not drive the book’s core argument.

The book also may not be universally applicable. Though he employs illustrations from other countries, Mouw clearly writes as an American to fellow Americans. I wonder how persuasive or beneficial believers from other contexts might find the book.

But for those of us in the American church, How to Be a Patriotic Christian is a needed contribution to the discussion at this juncture. American evangelicalism has fractured and splintered over questions on faith, politics, and our national identity. Angry rhetoric has dominated the conversation, and we no longer have a consensus on what it means to be a patriotic Christian—or if it’s even wise to try to be one.

In times such as these, Mouw’s book is a welcome invitation to rethink these questions. No matter what side of the political spectrum you occupy, How to Be a Patriot Christian will cause you to reconsider your perspective.

Nathaniel D. Williams is pastor of Cedar Rock First Baptist Church in Castalia, North Carolina. He serves as editor and content manager for the L. Russ Bush Center for Faith and Culture at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary.

Church Life

I Was Pro-Life In Theory. It Took Much More to Actually Help.

Our convictions, when lived out, will cost us.

Christianity Today July 1, 2022
Petri Oeschger / Getty

On the day I am drafting this essay, I have dinner plans with my friend, a Canadian physician. No doubt our conversation tonight will quickly turn to the recent United States Supreme Court decision, Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health. No doubt we will each vigorously defend our opposing opinions about abortion.

My friend, who claims no religious faith, strongly defends a woman’s right to choose abortion. She will talk to me—as she has throughout the 11 years I’ve lived in Canada—about married women who confirm unwanted pregnancies in the ER.

Sometimes, my friend tells me, these patients worry about the economic hardship another child will impose upon the family. Sometimes, having already endured one difficult, even life-threatening pregnancy, they can’t conceive of risking a second (or third or fourth). Sometimes these mothers are already caring for aging parents or a child with special needs and simply can’t imagine assuming responsibility for one more life.

“Many of these women don’t want to have abortions, but they can’t conceive of the alternative,” she will tell me, pleading for me to understand their predicaments. I will listen sympathetically to the stories my friend tells and acknowledge the real fears of her patients.

Whatever a woman’s ethical views on abortion, she may end her pregnancy because she cannot script a story in which both she and the baby flourish. As Lifeway Research reports, nearly 16 percent of all abortions are sought by evangelical Christians, many of whom might see it as a necessary evil and feel like they have no choice.

Whatever the legal status of abortion, our continuous battle is to conceive of a world where abortion isn’t the only option. We can’t simply change laws; we must rehabilitate the national imagination. But that requires sacrifice of all of us.

Perhaps tonight I will tell a story of my own, the story of my friend who immigrated to Canada years ago in the dead of winter while pregnant with twins. At the time, she had every reason to consider abortion as a life-saving measure for her family. She and her toddler were sent away by a husband and father who promised to follow behind—and never did.

Beginning from the cold night this woman and her son left the Edmonton airport—without money, winter coats, proper paperwork, a cellphone, or a place to stay—their hardships were many. But she was a woman of Christian faith and a woman who sought out communities of Christian faith.

And God provided.

There was the church in Edmonton that housed the family of two, then collected funds to pay for their airfare to Toronto where she would fight her immigration case. There was the Christian refugee resettlement agency that provided her temporary housing when she arrived in the city, then connected her to Safe Families Canada, a Christian alternative to government foster care.

A safe family provided a home for her young son in the weeks that followed the premature birth of her twins, then assembled a village of willing hands to meet the practical needs of this young mother and her three young children for years to come.

It was through Safe Families Canada that I became involved in this young woman’s life several years ago. I saw her family’s needs posted to the Safe Families network, including simple requests for diapers and meals.

To my immense shame, my initial thought upon receiving these requests was: I want no part of this complicated story. I feared that bringing diapers and dinner would involve me in ways beyond my capacity. And soon, it did. The point isn’t to rehearse my own reluctant efforts. The point is to say: For as theoretically committed as I have been to pro-life principles, I have still resisted giving time to families in crisis.

Time is the modern widow’s mite, the currency that is incredibly hard to sacrifice. In truth, I could have given money far more easily. But not time. Not interruption. Not long-haul life-on-life investment. Not birthday cakes and weekly groceries. Not monthly trips to the immigration office. Not the time that presence requires.

I’m struck, of course, by the temporal arguments for abortion. Some find it cruel to ask a woman to consider carrying an unwanted pregnancy to term, to sacrifice nine months of her life for the sake of a baby she might abort in an afternoon visit to a clinic. This is likely my friend’s opinion: that I have no right to impose such an obligation on an unwilling mother.

But as a pro-life Christian, I will tell her that I am compelled beyond arguments of efficiency. I want for a world in which we do hard things, even forsake freedoms, for the sake of our most vulnerable neighbors.

And yet I suppose that if we should ask women to give nine months of their lives to bear a child into the world (and the many years to come, should she keep the baby), we must be ready to give that much and more to ensure that child’s well-being. I suppose we will have to confront our own sworn commitments to individualism, this world in which we are never bothered by another’s need.

My friend’s twins recently celebrated their birthday. I showed up with balloons, and soon they were punching them, yelling at the top of their lungs. My friend looked exhausted, and it didn’t help that her doctors had recently diagnosed her with an iron deficiency. “They want to do infusions. What do you think of that?” I told her it’s a good idea, a safe treatment. And she was reassured.

I’ve grown used to these weekend conversations around my friend’s small kitchen table, and for as often as I visit, I wish I’d conquered the resistance to showing up. I haven’t.

But one thing has changed: I have evidence to bolster the imagination for another possible world. A world where the work of many hands makes lighter the efforts of love—for a mother, for her children, and for this noisy gift called life.

Jen Pollock Michel is a writer, podcast host, and speaker based in Toronto. She’s the author of four books and is working on a fifth: In Good Time: 8 Habits for Reimagining Productivity, Resisting Hurry, and Practicing Peace (Baker Books, 2022).

Ideas

Who Pays the Price for Crisis Pregnancies?

Contributor

Early pro-life advocates said “no” to abortion and “yes” to social safety nets for mothers. But most of today’s movement has lost that approach.

Christianity Today June 30, 2022
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch / Source Images: Paul Taylor / Getty / Enrique Guzman Egas

Crisis pregnancies have profound human costs. There are life-changing consequences for women who find themselves pregnant with a child they did not anticipate and may not feel equipped to care for.

Roe v. Wade suggested one way to manage those costs. Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization suggested another way. In the aftermath of the Dobbs decision, my Twitter feed has been filled with partisans on both sides of the abortion debate expressing either outrage or jubilation at this transfer of costs.

Opponents of abortion are delighted that, at least in many conservative states, the unborn child will no longer have to bear the cost of a crisis pregnancy. Defenders of a woman’s right to choose are outraged that women in these same states will now have to bear this cost to an even greater degree. Roe v. Wade was a landmark women’s rights decision, they believe, and now that it has been rescinded, they are outraged.

But perhaps neither Roe nor Dobbs represents a fully Christian way to distribute the human costs associated with crisis pregnancies. And therein lies a dilemma for Christians who want to preserve human life and are unhappy with the results of Roe as well as the likely results of Dobbs.

The history of the pro-life movement sheds light on these perennial challenges. It also offers a rough guide for the future.

Roe v. Wade’s transfer of costs to the unborn

Roe v. Wade—which was widely supported by liberal Protestants, Jews, and secular Americans was based on the premise that it was unjust and unconstitutional for the state to impose the costs of an unwanted pregnancy on the woman by forcing her to remain pregnant against her will.

But, of course, there was still a cost associated with every crisis pregnancy. Who would bear this cost? The answer, in the case of pregnancies that ended in abortion, was the fetus.

Roe included a lengthy explanation of why this transfer of cost was not a violation of the fetus’s rights since, as the Supreme Court’s decision declared, the pre-viable fetus was not a citizen with any constitutional rights. The pregnant woman, on the other hand, did have constitutional rights, and those rights included the right to terminate her pregnancy.

To pro-choice feminists, this transfer of cost from the woman to the fetus seemed perfectly just. If women were full human beings, pro-choice feminists asked, why should their rights be ignored in favor of the rights of a fetus, whose personhood (especially in the first trimester of pregnancy) was doubtful at best? To do so was a grave violation of women’s most basic rights, they thought.

The more advocates of reproductive rights championed a woman’s right to equality and bodily autonomy, the more they tended to minimize the life of the fetus. After all, if the fetus was going to have to bear most of the cost of the unwanted pregnancy by being denied a chance to live, discussions of that cost were profoundly uncomfortable.

They were much more comfortable talking about the rights of women. But when asked directly about the life of the fetus, abortion rights defenders in the 1970s tended to say the fetus was not a person and that, in any case, saving a potential child from being born into a situation where it was not wanted was actually an act of mercy.

In other words, they minimized the human cost that permissive abortion policies imposed on the fetus.

The pro-life movement’s early vision of social help for women

The pro-life movement was founded on the principle that the fetus was a full human person. If that was the case, it was profoundly immoral and unjust to force the fetus to bear the cost of an unwanted pregnancy by paying with its life.

The abortion rights movement’s attempt to deny the personhood and constitutional rights of the fetus was analogous to the attempt of enslavers to deny the personhood and constitutional rights of Black people in the 19th century, many pro-lifers argued.

In advocating for the rights of the fetus and the value of fetal life, the pro-life movement appealed to some of the same liberal human rights principles that the pro-choice movement did. But pro-lifers also faced an uncomfortable conflict with a principle that in the 1970s was becoming increasingly important to many liberals: women’s equality.

Pro-lifers who considered themselves feminists insisted that women’s equality was not at stake in the abortion debate. Many pro-lifers of the early 1970s believed the burdens of unwanted pregnancy could be mitigated with expanded prenatal and maternal health care access, along with government-funded childcare and improved adoption policies.

Pro-life activists at the time uniformly argued that women should never be punished for abortion, because they saw women who terminated their pregnancies not as aggressors but as victims of the abortion industry and the sexual revolution.

Abortion was emotionally and physically costly to women, they believed—far costlier, in fact, than pregnancy (even unwanted pregnancy). In making this claim, they directly disputed the claims of the reproductive rights movement.

But in their view, antiabortion activism protected the rights of both children and women. In the words of Jack Willke and his wife, Barbara—some of the most influential pro-life activists of the late 20th century—it was a way to “love them both.”

The pro-life movement’s alliance with political conservatism

The pro-life vision of transferring the costs of crisis pregnancies to society rather than solely to individual women was stymied by the political alliances pro-lifers made with the Republican Party.

Many of the early pro-life activists were Democrats, but when the Democratic Party became increasingly committed to protecting abortion rights during the late 1970s and 1980s, they turned to the GOP. Yet the Republican Party, while becoming increasingly open to the idea of restricting abortion, was opposed to expansions in the social safety net that would have helped lower-income women care for their children.

Some pro-lifers of the mid-1970s, such as Sargent and Eunice Shriver, insisted that the best way to reduce abortion in the aftermath of Roe v. Wade was to offer economically disadvantaged women help to carry their pregnancies to term, so they would not be as likely to seek out abortion services.

But the mainstream pro-life movement, led by organizations such as the National Right to Life Committee, rejected this approach and instead focused their entire effort on securing legal restrictions on abortion, even if this required an alliance with a party that rejected the type of help for women that the Shrivers envisioned.

The politically liberal Catholics who led the pro-life movement in its early years did not foresee that their movement would be tied so closely to the politics of individualism, because their entire project was based on the premise of social responsibility for the less fortunate.

But the individualistic politics of modern American conservatism—which a majority of white evangelicals have endorsed, and which has very strong support in the South—resists this liberal social vision.

Modern American conservatism has also resisted the feminist movement’s interest in gender equality and social equity. As a result, the abortion opponents who are poised to implement new restrictions on abortion in the next few weeks or months are not particularly bothered by the idea that pregnant women will need to bear the costs of unwanted pregnancies.

Indeed, some self-styled “abortion abolitionists” are calling for women who get illegal abortions to be punished directly as murderers—an idea that the pro-life movement has opposed for the past half-century.

Dobbs will give a green light to this political mindset. But despite all the dire predictions that abortion rights proponents have made, the decision will ratify existing trends more than change them.

What the numbers say

For the past four decades—and especially the past ten years—abortions have become steadily more difficult to obtain in conservative states and more accessible (and publicly funded) in liberal regions.

Before Dobbs, for instance, a woman earning $17,000 a year who was 11 weeks pregnant in Los Angeles or New York could obtain a publicly funded abortion in her own city without any mandatory waiting period.

If the same woman were in San Antonio, by contrast, she would have had to drive 400 miles to Shreveport, Louisiana, wait 24 hours after an ultrasound at the clinic, go through an abortion counseling session, pay $500 in cash for the abortion (since there are no Medicaid subsidies for most abortions in either Texas or Louisiana), and then drive the 400 miles back to San Antonio.

Now, because of Dobbs, she’ll have to drive an extra 300 miles to get to Albuquerque instead of Shreveport, since the abortion clinics in Louisiana have just closed. That, of course, is an additional inconvenience—but probably not enough of a change to deter most of the women willing to drive to Shreveport from driving the additional miles to Albuquerque.

Thus, the overall effect of this new policy on the abortion rate will probably be very slight. Both before and after Dobbs, conservative states forced women facing crisis pregnancies to bear the cost of pregnancy terminations themselves. Dobbs has just made this more evident.

The politically progressive pro-life activists of the early 1970s would not have objected to making abortion more difficult to obtain. In fact, they would have wanted to go much further by including in the law a clear declaration of the high value of fetal life.

But if their statements about expanded social safety nets are any indication, they might have been dismayed to discover that the states now poised to outlaw abortion are also, in some cases, the states that offer the fewest health care benefits to low-income pregnant women.

Both Texas and Mississippi—like Alabama and several other conservative states—have refused a federal Medicaid expansion that would provide health care coverage to women whose income is up to 138 percent of the federal poverty level.

So, when a woman in Texas earning only $10 an hour gives birth, she’ll likely have to bear the financial and emotional cost of that decision herself; the state will not help her transfer that cost elsewhere.

The idea that women who are in the midst of difficult pregnancies are given no social assistance in choosing life for their children would have been deeply disappointing to many of the pro-life activists of a half-century ago.

How should a pro-life Christian think about this?

For those like myself who believe that human life has great value from the moment of conception, Roe v. Wade’s attempt to transfer the cost of an unwanted pregnancy onto the fetus was clearly unjust. But the current legal framework, which will force the most economically vulnerable and marginalized women to pay these costs instead, does not accord well with the Bible’s hundreds of exhortations to seek justice for the poor.

Fifty percent of women seeking abortions today are living below the poverty line, and another 25 percent have low incomes that are barely above it. Sixty percent are already mothers of at least one child. They are often struggling to deal with unstable crisis situations that make it difficult for them to welcome another child into their homes without assistance.

In the political climate that we face today, there is no state that is seriously considering a framework that would provide justice in these cases. Instead, we will be left with some state policies that attempt to keep the framework of Roe v. Wade by offering continued legal abortions and giving women the promise of transferring the cost of their crisis pregnancies onto the fetus.

Other states will prohibit women from doing that, but at the same time, they will offer little help in bearing the costs these women will incur by giving birth to a child.

No matter where we live, then, those of us who value both women and children will have to help bear these costs. It’s more important now than ever to do what we can through both public policy and private charity to create a culture of life that will also empower women.

Roe v. Wade did not do that. Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization did not really do that, either. But perhaps in the aftermath of this decision, those of us who care about human life can resurrect the approach of the early pro-lifers and insist that, when it comes to crisis pregnancies, children should not carry the costs, and neither should pregnant women be forced to bear those costs alone.

Daniel K. Williams is a professor of history at the University of West Georgia and the author of Defenders of the Unborn: The Pro-Life Movement before Roe v. Wade. A longer version of this piece originally appeared at The Anxious Bench at Patheos. Republished with permission.

Speaking Out is Christianity Today’s guest opinion column and (unlike an editorial) does not necessarily represent the opinion of the publication.

News

His Election Polarized the Philippines. Now Evangelicals Are Repairing Burned Bridges.

Believers on both sides pray for incoming president Bongbong Marcos, as pastors harness new enthusiasm around nation-building and kingdom-building.

Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. won the May 9, 2022 presidential elections in the Philippines. He is the son of ousted dictator Ferdinand Marcos Sr.

Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. won the May 9, 2022 presidential elections in the Philippines. He is the son of ousted dictator Ferdinand Marcos Sr.

Christianity Today June 30, 2022
Ezra Acayan / Getty Images

Last month’s presidential election in the Philippines was deemed its most divisive to date. As the country inaugurates its new leader this week, are evangelicals ready to move forward?

The 2022 race in the 7,000-plus-island archipelago raised the typical election acrimony to new heights, including among Christians who championed the two leading candidates.

Brethren dissolved their friendships over political debates, mutually condemning each other for supposedly casting the future of the nation into ruin by the choice of their preferred candidate.

Churches reported how members left Bible study groups and even their local fellowships due to perceptions that their pastors or church officials endorsed “presidentiables”—presidential hopefuls—they opposed.

With president-elect Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. formally taking his oath June 30, evangelicals have begun to come to a place of mutual understanding and have committed to pray for the new leader regardless of whether they voted for him.

Pastors, for their part, are channeling the momentum around the election to missional efforts to bless the country. They’ve discouraged members from burning bridges over politics.

“The church, your community, is your family. It will always be there for you in a way that your candidate might not be,” said Dennis Sy, senior pastor of Victory Makati, a location of one of the largest multisite churches in the Philippines. “Now that the elections are over, we are going to journey together whether we voted for that candidate or not.”

Marcos, nicknamed “Bongbong” and known as BBM, has held various political offices, most recently a senatorial post. He is also the son and namesake of the famous Philippine strongman who ruled the country for more than 20 years before being toppled by the People Power Revolution in 1986. The senior Marcos’s era has been synonymous with the loss of democratic freedoms, human rights violations, and massive graft and corruption.

Filipino voters who opposed his run were concerned that the younger Marcos would bring back those dark days. Worse, he might erase or rewrite the history of martial law that saw thousands killed or imprisoned without legal due process. Meanwhile, supporters saw in him a return to the order and economic stability of his father’s term.

Well aware of the shadow of controversy looming over his candidacy, Marcos asked voters to judge him “not by my ancestors, but by my actions.”

While there were other presidential candidates—including world-renowned boxer and committed Christian Manny Pacquiao—Marcos’s main opponent was outgoing vice president Leni Robredo. Robredo was seen as an alternative to the traditional corrupt politician (or trapo, which means “dirt rag” in Filipino).

Her supporters hailed her lack of affiliation with any political dynasty, scandal-free government record, and the 16-hour-a-day work ethic with which she served her constituents. Detractors pointed out her lack of government experience as well as a veneer of “elitism” that disconnected her from her financially struggling countrymen, almost a quarter of whom are mired in poverty, barely managing to eke out the $240 a month needed to feed a family of five.

Many who supported Robredo saw her as the clear choice between a good and bad candidate. One Christian teacher who spoke to CT got engaged in a door-to-door campaign for Robredo, something outside her comfort zone. (She asked to remain unnamed out of fear of reprisal since her community rents land from the government.)

She brought materials from the subdivisions to the shanties, discussing the issues with anyone who would listen. She said she wasn’t afraid to share her position with acquaintances who were on the Marcos side as “it was really done in the spirit of genuine love for them and the country.”

Meanwhile, Rem Pinero, an Overseas Filipino Worker based in the Middle East, disengaged from Robredo supporters who he thought would argue with him about his support for Marcos. “Tensions were high during the campaign period,” he looks back. “Some Christians had forgotten what it was to become Christlike.”

Overseas workers like Pinero totaled over 1.5 million registered voters in the presidential election; they were able to cast their ballots in person in embassies and consulates or by mail.

When political messages came up in the Bible study groups at his Filipino church in the United Arab Emirates, he advised participants to respond without anger. “Respect” for the individual and their choice was his perpetual refrain, even to fellow Marcos allies who questioned why his own two grown children were voting for Robredo.

“My kids asked me why I supported Marcos, and I said so without defending, apologizing, or being hostile,” said Pinero, a widower. “We just agreed to respect each other’s opinions and points of view. There were no arguments at home or anything breaking out of anger.”

Describing himself as a Marcos “supporter, but not a fanatic,” Pinero chose his candidate because he felt that he had the right mixture of discipline and positivity: “Unlike others who just kept hyping the negative and criticizing the other candidates, he stayed above it all. … That attitude can bring about the unity that our country needs. When people ask me why I could vote for him given his family history, I cannot judge the son or any child by the sins of the father or the parent.”

Relationships over politics

Now that Marcos has won in a landslide victory, Pinero advises his friends on both sides of the political divide to reach out to each other. He also admonishes his pro-Marcos friends not to gloat.

“When I meet Christians who are Robredo supporters, I still treat them the same way, like nothing has changed, and that we are still friends and brethren,” he said. “Had Robredo won, I would have wanted them to extend the same courtesy to me.”

Sy at Victory Makati advocates relationships over politics. He sees the last elections as both “practice and a challenge for the church to respond in the most biblical way and not burn bridges.”

The unity of the Christian leaders despite their political and theological differences is paramount for Bishop Dan Balais, national chairman of the Intercessors for the Philippines (IFP). Balais often coordinates with leaders at the Philippine Council of Evangelical Churches (PCEC) and the Philippines for Jesus Movement (PJM).

He describes the three huge organizations as akin to the pillars of the Philippine Christian church: PCEC’s focus is on the pastoral and teaching ministries; PJM is apostolic; and IFP leans toward the prophetic and intercessory.

Until the COVID-19 lockdowns, the bishops and their pastors had been meeting regularly every year since 2012 for the Palawan Leaders’ Summit. They wear covenant rings “to remind us that no matter our differences, we will not allow [our relationship and the unity] to break,” says Balais. “The elections are over, we had different candidates, but we said that we will not separate from each other.”

According to Balais, many churches based in Mindanao—the third main island in the Philippines—voted for Marcos. His running mate and vice-president-elect, Sara Duterte-Carpio, was the former mayor of the region’s Davao City. Some Christian groups chose Pacquiao apparently because of his Christian faith. IFP, which is connected to 7,000 local churches, openly endorsed Robredo. So did Christ the Living Stone Fellowship (CLSF), a network of 500 churches, led by Balais as senior pastor.

“We don’t have bloc voting,” Balais clarifies, referring to one political exercise usually done by a homegrown religious organization in the Philippines, the Iglesia ni Cristo, where the main shepherd chooses the presidentiable that all members will unanimously vote for. “Our members are still free to choose their candidate.”

IFP’s endorsement of Robredo was more of a “discernment. We have to make a choice and lead the people in making that choice,” continues Balais. “The ones we endorse were impressed to us by the Lord. They will not necessarily win. If they lose, it does not necessarily mean we are wrong. We are standing on the principle.”

IFP’s and CLSF’s backing of Robredo was a long and prayerful process that started with the two organizations developing leadership criteria to guide their voting flock for the 2022 elections. It culminated in their alliance with 1Sambayan, a “broad coalition of democratic forces” that offered a very similar voters’ guide.

Praying for the president

When the other evangelical groups who initially joined 1Sambayan eventually pulled out, IFP stayed because Balais believed that the Lord wanted them to honor their covenant.

“When 1Sambayanan supported Robredo, we had the same criteria: character, competence, and ability to lead,” says Balais. “But remove the covenant, which is our basis, and we will still look at her.”

As far as the traditional position that the church must remain neutral politically, Balais candidly states, “IFP has crossed that line.” Its ministries of intercession and prophecy are actively seeking what God is saying to the nation at a particular point in time, praying for it, and acting accordingly.

Now in the election aftermath, one thing all sides can agree on is praying for the president-elect.

Taking a page out of the hard lessons learned by Rehoboam, Pinero’s prayer for Marcos is very specific: “That he be surrounded by just, honest, and excellent advisers who have a genuine love for the country.”

To date, most of Marcos’s appointments of officials into his cabinet, especially the finance, central bank, public works and highways, and trade have been generally welcomed by the people, economists, the business community, and foreign think tanks. (At a recent IFP service, Balais admits that the appointments have been “good.” Prior to that, he told CT, “What is God about to do? Can he use Marcos? We never know. We all agreed to pray for him.”)

Meanwhile, the Christian teacher who campaigned for Robredo says that she has a “sincere desire and openness to be proven wrong about [Marcos’s] capabilities.” She continues to pray and fast for the new president and his family.

Sy addresses the lingering fear of the return of martial law under Marcos, which he said was a speculative worry. “Christians should know their role,” the pastor said. “Prayer is the primary response to every crisis and situation.”

Nation and kingdom building

The election has also reinvigorated plans for evangelism, church growth, and the discipleship of a whole nation into righteousness in all spheres Christians inhabit, including the marketplace and governance.

Based on prophecy, Balais holds that the Philippines must become a “nation of Davids”—moral people who love righteousness—as a prerequisite for God to raise up an equally righteous, moral, and God-fearing president.

“How do you do that? Through the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, which is a major part of evangelism,” he said. “People enter the kingdom of God, are born again, are taught the Word of God, and their character is discipled.”

To Sy, transformation can also come about by fulfilling the church’s mission of being a light to the world. As a young pastor in San Juan years ago, he rallied his church to provide relief to victims of flooding while working with city hall.

“The majority of the volunteers were from the church,” recalls Sy. “The mayor and the vice mayor both saw this. That was an open door for us to minister to our local officials. They saw that we had no agenda.”

The experience and others like it have led him to conclude, “Partnering with the local government is something that every church should do. The church cannot be partisan. If I start taking sides, will I have the position to minister the gospel to all, no matter what side they chose? Daniel worked under three administrations because he never went political.”

The Christian teacher recalls a food vendor who told her, “You’re just here with us if there is a campaign. After the campaign, you’re all the same—you’ll just vanish.” That exchange gave her a stronger resolve to work with her Christian community to “pursue activities that will provide concrete relief for our less-fortunate countrymen, whether they voted for Robredo or not.”

The election aftermath just might have broken new ground for planting the seeds of the gospel and bringing social transformation. Christians who might have been disappointed by the presidential outcome are experiencing a wake-up call, particularly among young people, who compose more than 40 percent of the population.

“They went out to the streets to campaign—not so much for Robredo or for Marcos but because of their love for the nation,” said Sy, who’s 40.

Victory Makati has a campus ministry in the public schools to “reach a generation of young people and young leaders mostly living in poverty. Through that, you are affecting change already.” At the same time, Sy concedes that Victory’s effort in transforming the nation, which was started by the main church more than 30 years ago, is “a long game.”

Balais, who helped birth IFP and CLSF also in the 1980s, equally foresees that the raising of a “nation of Davids is for the long-term.” The 69-year-old bishop adds, “Hopefully, we shall still be alive when that happens.”

In the meantime, with a new president taking the helm, Balais advises his brethren, regardless of their electoral choice, “Let us pray for God’s mercy, which triumphs over judgment. Let us preserve the unity of the Spirit. Make ourselves a prisoner of peace. Above all, have fervent love for each other, as love covers a multitude of sins.”

Books
Review

Is There a Wholesome Alternative to Christian Nationalism?

Paul Miller’s critique of political idolatry is persuasive. His defense of patriotic civil religion, less so.

Christianity Today June 30, 2022
Edits by Christianity Today / Source Images: Drew Angerer / Staff / Getty

“If ‘Christian nationalism’ is something to be scared of, they’re lying to you,” Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.) told her supporters in June. “And they’re lying to you on purpose because that is exactly the temperature change that is happening in America today, and they can’t control it.”

The Religion of American Greatness: What’s Wrong with Christian Nationalism

The Religion of American Greatness: What’s Wrong with Christian Nationalism

IVP Academic

304 pages

$24.87

Christian nationalism, once triumphant, will “stop the school shootings,” Greene claimed. It will lower crime rates, stop “the sexual immorality,” and guard children’s innocence and train them to want a traditional lifestyle. And it’s this wholesome movement of “Christians, and … people who love their country and want to take care of it” that “liars” in the media are deriding.

Greene is right on two counts: Christian nationalism is increasingly visible in American politics, and the movement has been much discussed in the press these past two years, particularly since journalists began to examine the Christian symbols and language used in the storming of the Capitol on January 6, 2021.

The rest of Greene’s account leaves more to be desired, but its emphasis on cultural dominance, political power, and protection of one’s own tribe—all topped with a flimsy veneer of Christianity—will be familiar to any reader of Paul D. Miller’s The Religion of American Greatness: What’s Wrong with Christian Nationalism.

Miller is well suited to explain why Christian nationalism, though not “something to be scared of,” is certainly something Christians should reject. He’s a veteran of the US Army, the CIA, and the George W. Bush administration—no stranger to patriotic milieus. He’s also a scholar, currently serving as a professor of international relations at Georgetown University’s prestigious School of Foreign Service, and an evangelical’s evangelical—a theological conservative who was baptized in a river, attended a Billy Graham crusade, and holds a special fondness for Chick-fil-A.

Greene painted critiques of Christian nationalism as deception or jealousy of nationalists’ rising power, but The Religion of American Greatness is neither. Miller is unsparing in his evaluation of the movement but sympathetic to its grassroots adherents. He has penned a useful resource for his main audience of educated evangelicals—pastors, church leaders, journalists, academics, and “other professional Christians”—whom he envisions using his work to fruitfully engage with their congregants, followers, and loved ones. In that primary goal, The Religion of American Greatness is an effective and compelling work, though Miller’s case for patriotic civil religion and Christian republicanism as the alternative to nationalism is not as convincing or well-developed.

The case against Christian nationalism

“Is the marriage of Christianity with American nationalism,” asks Miller, “a forgivable quirk over an unimportant doctrinal matter, a lovable excess in patriotism and piety?” Is it, in Greene’s phrase, simply Christians and “people who love their country and want to take care of it”?

“The burden of this book,” Miller writes, is to demonstrate Christian nationalism is not innocuous. It’s “to show that nationalism is incoherent in theory, illiberal in practice, and, I fear, often idolatrous in our hearts.” In all three aims, he ably succeeds.

The book begins with definitions and devil’s advocacy, delving into the nature of nationalism generally and its Christian, American, and (usually) white variant specifically. “Christian nationalism is not a catch-all term for any kind of Christian political advocacy,” Miller is careful to note. “The unique feature of Christian nationalism is that it defines America as a Christian nation and it wants the government to promote a specific Anglo-Protestant cultural template as the official culture of the country.” To play fair, he presents the case for Christian nationalism as represented by leading American and British thinkers of this ilk, including National Review’s Rich Lowry, First Things’s R. R. Reno (see CT’s review of Reno’s nationalist treatise here), and the late “clash of civilizations” scholar Samuel Huntington.

This exploration of Christian nationalism in its “ideal type,” as articulated by its more serious advocates, will be helpful for readers who want to be able to “steelman” the movement, to identify its influence in the political scrum, and to articulate why this ideal type and Christianity are, in Miller’s words, “separate, rival, mutually exclusive religions. They make fundamentally incommensurable claims on human loyalty. In its ideal type, you can either be a Christian nationalist, or you can be a Christian: you cannot be both.”

Yet, as Miller acknowledges, most Christian nationalists in America are not of the ideal type. The competition for their ultimate loyalty is far more muddled. Their nationalism is significantly a feeling, “a deep and profound bond … between church and nation that is experienced far more viscerally than it is intellectually or theologically,” and their politics are likely “an inconsistent mix of nationalism, conservatism, Christianity, republicanism, libertarianism, and more.”

For understanding that folk variant of Christian nationalism, Miller’s later chapters on the Religious Right and nationalism’s engagement with Scripture may be the most important in the book. They’re also the fieriest and most fascinating, particularly for readers like me, who encountered Christian nationalism for years without knowing its name. Reading this section felt like grouting tile: I had the bigger pieces, the book filled so many gaps—by recounting of the historic use of key Bible verses in American politics; describing the elite-grassroots split in US evangelicalism; critiquing the hermeneutical moves that fund America-as-Israel theology; and characterizing our country’s Jacksonian subculture.

But perhaps Miller’s single strongest argument, woven throughout much of the book, is his contention that Christian nationalism is actually a secular ideology. The thinkers he reviews speak of “Protestantism without God” and the adequacy of “America’s ‘ecumenical monotheism’” as the moral buttress for their cultural-political project. Their interest is in “the inherited norms, values, and habits of America’s Christian heritage” more than a living Christian faith. For the Christian nationalist, then, the “main point of sanctification” becomes safeguarding the nation, not “honor[ing] God by emulating his character.” And the nation, in turn, becomes the object of the nationalist’s worship. Though folk Christian nationalists may not believe themselves at risk of that idolatry, a “little yeast works through the whole batch of dough” (Gal. 5:9).

If not Christian nationalism, then what?

Early on, Miller writes that this is, hopefully, the first book in a trilogy on Christian nationalism, progressivism, and patriotic Christian republicanism. Despite those plans, he begins his apology for patriotism and republicanism as an alternative to nationalism in this initial work. Unfortunately—and perhaps because it requires book-length treatment—this portion is weaker than the rest. I’ll highlight three points.

First, the line between Miller’s conception of patriotism (good) and nationalism (bad) isn’t bright. At one point he says the difference between suitable Christian political engagement and Christian nationalism “can be subtle,” maybe even externally indistinguishable because the difference is “a matter of our own inner motivation.” In this vein, Miller pairs rejection of Christian nationalism with some lingering conception of the United States as a nation. For example, he argues that hiding away complicated historical figures like Thomas Jefferson “is tantamount to saying that there is no story of great deeds that binds us together, no shared history, and thus no nation” (emphasis mine).

It’s possible Miller is simply imprecise in his language, using “nation” as a synonym for “country” rather than sticking to his initial definition of it as a nationalist term, in which case this is a confusion of editing rather than thought. But Miller likewise promotes patriotic civil religion—not merely adherence to values like liberty and justice but cultural rituals to “evoke emotional loyalty to our country” like “schmaltzy patriotism on the Fourth of July.” And he does this while decrying the sacralization of the secular and denying that “the U.S. government is competent to sustain, create, or orchestrate a common national cultural template for a nation of 320 million people.”

Miller contends we need this civil religion because “we cannot live without some kind of group identity”; because “people must have something in which to take pride [and] if we deny them the ability to take pride in their nation, they will simply shift the locus of their loyalty to a subgroup, such as their ethnic or racial group;” and because “we cannot do without national stories. … To beat nationalism, we need to tell a better story.”

But what Miller doesn’t answer is why, in a book primarily for Christians, that story is not the gospel. Why is the solution “a political story”—and, if it must be political, why must it be on the national scale? Why is our group identity not the church? Why can’t we fight nationalism with loyalty to our congregations or neighborhoods? Why is a national patriotism the antidote of choice?

Second, Miller makes a persuasive argument that there’s an inexorable relationship between nationalism, identity politics, and culture war. “Nationalism,” he writes, “is the identity politics of the majority tribe; identity politics is the nationalism of small groups. In each case, groups of people defined by some shared identity trait look to the public square for status, spoils, recognition, and power.” These groups land in an escalatory culture-war spiral as each seeks to determine who “we” are and what “we” believe and do. By contrast, Miller argues, in a republican model of politics the state should eliminate those spoils of war by engaging in “cultural neutrality,” not “moral neutrality and state-sponsored secularism.”

But in distinguishing between kinds of neutrality, Miller leaves the biggest culture-war battles in play. Grounding his distinction in an assertion of natural law—which is unlikely to persuade those not already convinced of the theory’s merits—he says the state can’t be neutral regarding “human personhood and human sexuality,” and that here, “the public square is a ‘battleground of the gods,’ in which we can do no other than to advocate for our own fundamental beliefs.” But surely for many Christian nationalists today, those issues are the whole ballgame. These “limited” carveouts from cultural neutrality are exactly the matters that motivate Christian nationalists to seek state power to dictate national culture.

Finally, though he details the illiberalism of Christian nationalism, I’m not sure Miller realizes its present extent—and what it means for the prospect of shifting nationalists toward classically liberal Christian republicanism. Ending the chapter on “The Christian Right’s Illiberalism,” he writes:

Which is more important: republican institutions, or Christian culture? Having a free and open society, or having public symbols of respect for Christianity? Christian principles, or Christian power? Political liberty, or political victory? Christian nationalists would reject the framing of these questions as a false choice because they say the two sides must go together, while Christian republicans would be far more comfortable advocating for republicanism with or without a Christianized culture.

The notion that Christian nationalists would see this as a false choice may be true among some adherents of the “ideal type,” but at the folk level, I suspect, presented with these options, many Christian nationalists would simply choose victory and public respect. Consider their embrace of illiberal governance in Hungary—or recall Greene’s expectation that a political triumph for Christian nationalism would change Americans’ sexual behavior and reshape children’s plans for their lives.

American Christian nationalists like to talk about “liberty,” but I don’t think there’s much of a dilemma for them here, which means they’re further from republicanism than Miller may hope. That’s a small blemish in his argument, but a big recommendation of his book.

Bonnie Kristian is a writer and CT columnist. She is the author of a forthcoming book, Untrustworthy: The Knowledge Crisis Breaking Our Brains, Polluting Our Politics, and Corrupting Christian Community.

History

What Came Before the Ultrasound–and What Comes After

From word pictures to video games, prenatal visualization technology has expanded our empathy for the unborn.

Christianity Today June 30, 2022
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch / Source Images: Itsarasak Thithuekthak / Tetra Images / Getty / Digital Commons at University of Nebraska / WikiMedia Commons

This article is the second of a four-part series based on the upcoming book by Marvin Olasky and Leah Savas, The Story of Abortion in America: A Street-Level History, 1652–2022.

Millions of expectant parents have now seen ultrasound video of their unborn children. The technology is new, but the desire to see what’s invisible is not. We can trace six steps in prenatal visualization technology during the past 170 years—and then wonder what the seventh will be.

The first three steps involved word pictures. Stephen Tracy’s The Mother and Her Offspring (1853) was one of the first books I’ve seen that took readers week by week and month by month through the early development of unborn children:

At forty-five days … the head is very large; the eyes, mouth, and nose are to be distinguished; the hands and arms are in the middle of its length—fingers distinct. … At two months, all the parts of the child are present. … The fingers and toes are distinct. … At three months, … the heart pulsates strongly, and the principal vessels carry red blood.

The second step emphasized woman-to-woman lectures about the unborn. In the 1850s Elizabeth Blackwell, the first female to receive a medical degree in the US, pleaded with mothers to “look at the first faint gleam of life, the life of the embryo. … The cell rapidly enlarges. … Each organ is distinctly formed. … It would be impious folly to attempt to interfere directly with this act of creation.”

In the 1860s Anna Densmore French explained fetal development to teachers who planned to pass on this knowledge to their teenage students. French said, “Women would rarely dare to destroy the product of conception if they did not fully believe that the little being was devoid of life during all the earlier period of gestation.”

She showed week by week that “life processes were going on from the very beginning of embryonic development.”

Diagram from the novel, The Mother and Her Offspring, showing a baby in the womb..Illustration by Mallory Rentsch / Source Images: Itsarasak Thithuekthak / Tetra Images / Getty
Diagram from the novel, The Mother and Her Offspring, showing a baby in the womb..

In the 1870s Rachel Gleason gave talks warning that women who aborted would feel what we today call post-abortion syndrome: “Remorse for the deed drives women almost or quite to despair.” And at century’s end, Prudence Saur lectured about life beginning “from the moment of conception, [as] modern science has abundantly proven. It follows, then, that this crime is equally as great whether committed in the early weeks of pregnancy or at a more advanced period.”

Books for children and teenagers were a third step. Mary G. Hood’s For Girls and the Mothers of Girls: A Book for the Home and the School Concerning the Beginnings of Life (1914). Here’s how she introduced the first moments of fetal anatomy:

The two cells unite, and become one, much as two drops of water, when they come into contact, merge into each other and become one drop. Thus the two cells, which in their origin come from two different beings, unite to form the new cell, which will result in a completely new and different human being.

The next three steps involved showing rather than telling. At the 1939 World’s Fair in New York City, more than two million people viewed the most realistic and beautiful sculptures of unborn children ever created.

People stood in line for hours “with wonder on their faces” to see what before was invisible, as historian Rose Holz recounts: “Neither rain nor shine stopped the crowds from coming; nor did the occasional stampede.” The sculptures combined scientific accuracy with artistic beauty to depict development as a romance beginning with conception and unfolding all the way to birth.

Ironically, the obstetrician in charge of the sculpture project, Robert L. Dickinson, wrote (but did not publish) a personal essay, “Blessed Be Abortion,” that praised abortion as a relief from “intolerable” burdens like “added maternal care” or “life-long shame.” During the 1940s he was a Planned Parenthood senior vice president and director. (It takes all kinds of people to increase pro-life understanding.)

It also takes all kinds of motives. Like Dickinson, the Gerber Products Company also had commercial interest in distributing at the World ’s Fair and elsewhere a How Does Your Baby Grow? pamphlet with photos of the sculptures. It explained, “A baby ’s life begins not when he puts in his squalling appearance but at the moment the sperm (from the father) meets the egg (from the mother) in the Fallopian tube.”

Sculpture of the unborn baby at the 1939 World’s Fair in New York City.Illustration by Mallory Rentsch / Source Images: Itsarasak Thithuekthak / Tetra Images / Getty
Sculpture of the unborn baby at the 1939 World’s Fair in New York City.

After the fair Gerber added a warning—“Abortions Are Dangerous!”—that summed up the physical and psychological consequences for women who “live with unhappy memories of what might have been. If you are thinking about an abortion—stop! Go to your family doctor. … Don ’t make a move you ’ll regret.”

Meanwhile, the sculptures traveled to medical and public health institutions in many cities. Then came mass reproduction and eventually low-cost plastic models.

The fifth step came from abroad. Swedish photojournalist Lennart Nilsson during a visit to New York told editors of Life magazine that he wanted to photograph unborn children. The editors were technically skeptical but supportive: That partnership led to a Life cover in 1965 featuring a Foetus 18 Weeks photo of an unborn child floating within an amniotic sac. The issue was Life’s all-time fastest seller at checkout counters. Nilsson’s A Child Is Born became one of the top-selling illustrated books of all time.

Ultrasound ImagingIllustration by Mallory Rentsch / Source Images: Itsarasak Thithuekthak / Tetra Images / Getty
Ultrasound Imaging

The sixth step is ultrasound imaging, which has been worth more than a thousand words in changing the hearts of some who were contemplating abortion. Some states now require abortion providers to perform ultrasounds and show them to patients, leading pro-abortion advocates like the Guttmacher Institute to complain that “the requirements appear to be a veiled attempt to personify the fetus and dissuade an individual from obtaining an abortion.”

What will the seventh step be? Every technological development adds opportunities for both sin and grace. Some video games now have characters like Giant Baby Fetus Monster Boss. An Argentinian pro-abortion activist created a game where a player wins by shooting an unborn baby with a shotgun. The game then compliments the player for defeating “fetito” (little fetus) and urges him to send an abortion pill “to those in need so they might defeat it too.”

Will pro-life gamers create lifelike video games that lead to more empathy for unborn children?

Whether or not such creativity occurs, thinking about different steps toward visualization reminds us that America’s abortion tragedy did not begin with Roe v. Wade and it will not end with a Roe v. Wade reversal. Legal change will help to save some, but many hundreds of thousands will still die as long as mothers (and fathers) visualize them not as sucking their thumbs but sucking life out of their parents.

Content adapted from The Story of Abortion in America by Marvin Olasky and Leah Savas, ©2023. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers.

Inkwell

Creature to Creature

Inkwell June 29, 2022
Photography by Ariel Schmunck

Yesterday,
running slowly
in the gravel
I saw
a tiny bird
feathered pulsating globe
of white and gray
on its back
black pinprick eyes
pointing up to the sky.
I stooped down
closely
to peer.
We stared at one another—
creature to creature—
for a small eternity.
I scooped him
into my hands
and placed him gently
an offering
upright
onto the grass
whispering
a prayer to the One
who sees
and knows
each one
every sparrow
and every sorrow.

Karen Swallow Prior is a writer and Professor of English and Christianity and Culture at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. She is the author of Booked: Literature in the Soul of Me (T. S. Poetry Press, 2012), Fierce Convictions: The Extraordinary Life of Hannah More—Poet, Reformer, Abolitionist (Thomas Nelson, 2014), and On Reading Well: Finding the Good Life through Great Books (Brazos, 2018). She is co-editor of Cultural Engagement: A Crash Course in Contemporary Issues (Zondervan 2019) and has contributed to numerous other books.

News

Pro-Life Black Christians Don’t Focus on Abortion Alone

Overturning Roe v. Wade draws attention to what they’ve known all along: There’s much more to upholding life than banning abortion.

Christianity Today June 29, 2022
Mandel Ngan / Getty Images

For many white evangelicals who led the pro-life movement, the end of Roe v. Wade marks a long-awaited and celebrated outcome. But for Black Christians whose political views on life extend beyond a single-issue fight, the sentiment is more mixed.

As the founder of Pro-Black Pro-Life, Cherilyn Holloway sees how Black Christians may agree with valuing life from a theological standpoint and are open to a “whole-life” perspective yet they reject politically conservative policy stances. For them, the racial disparities and injustice impacting abortion need to be prioritized too.

“To live abundantly, we have to be able to acknowledge the systems that have been put in place to keep us from doing that,” said Holloway.

While the abortion bans that go into place after the Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization ruling may result in more babies born, Black Christians continue to call attention to so many other overlapping factors that threaten Black lives in pregnancy.

“It’s not quite as simple as some folks make it out to be. Having the baby isn’t the only issue, and abortion isn’t the only issue,” said Justin E. Giboney, president of The And Campaign. “There are a lot of other factors that go into that when it comes to policies like paid family leave, health care issues—which this country still has not dealt with adequately. Those also play into the conversation.”

Black women are three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than white women, and their babies are twice as likely as white babies to die before their first birthdays. Racial disparities persist across nearly every measure—from income for covering childcare to quality of education.

A promotional video for the campaign’s Whole Life Project says, “When Black women who have chosen to carry their child to full term are still at risk of death, we must lead with a more compassionate posture.”

Efrem Smith, co-lead pastor of Midtown Church in Sacramento, says he and many other Black pastors aren’t represented in mainstream conversations around abortion because there’s not much room to simultaneously value life from a theological perspective and address the structural racism and inequalities faced by Black women in particular. Smith’s church is a multiethnic congregation in the Evangelical Covenant Church.

“It’s not an easy place to land,” he said. “The dominant culture has tried to force Black Christians into a pro-life, pro-choice paradigm.”

The reality, to Smith, is far more nuanced. He believes Black Christians are at their best when they can stand for life while also speaking out for “our liberation and empowerment at the same time.”

Smith points to the historic position of Black women in America. They haven’t had the opportunity to “choose life” when their own lives have been put in danger at the hands of others, whether through slavery, lynching, sexual assault, violence, exploitation, or inadequate health care.

A recent Pew Research survey found that two-thirds of Black Protestants favor keeping abortion legal. Though they share core theological positions with white evangelicals, Black Protestants are consistently far less aligned with Republican Party policies, including its efforts to ban abortion.

Yet the largest historically Black denomination, the Pentecostal, 5-million-member Church of God in Christ (COGIC), takes a pro-life stance against abortion. One of its bishops, Vincent Mathews, spoke last year at a prayer event around Dobbs held by the Family Research Council.

Presiding COGIC bishop J. Drew Sheard stated earlier this year, “We acknowledge the disproportionate damage abortion has caused to the black community—particularly to women—and long to see women in crisis and children in need genuinely cared for.”

While the 2.5-million-member African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church has historically opposed abortion, except in cases to save the life of the mother, the church’s health commission spoke out on Dobbs in favor of “reproductive justice” for Black women, including access to abortion. Similarly, progressive Black clergy with the Samuel DeWitt Proctor Conference criticized the ruling and pledged to mobilize against it.

Whether opposed to abortion or in favor of abortion rights, Black believers see their faith communities playing a crucial role in the response. Smith in California sees that overturning Roe represents a critical time for predominantly Black houses of worship to be recognized as epicenters of mutual aid in their communities.

“The Black church, because it was birthed out of slavery, has always had some version of an extended family or a village within it,” he said. “The Black church is willing to say, ‘Regardless of the circumstances around how you got pregnant, if you have that baby, this church will be your family.’”

His multiethnic congregation is preparing to extend spiritual care in the wake of the decision. It has partnered with licensed counselors and health professionals and will connect members to available services.

Midtown Church is not alone. Many Black congregations offer similar outreach, and Giboney with the And Campaign said he could see more Black churches discussing new strategies to provide support to women and children in response to the Supreme Court’s decision.

“Christians who are Republicans and Democrats and all over need to be advocates for these women if we truly want their flourishing,” said Giboney, an attorney and political strategist. “It’s not just about winning on the issue but putting skin on the policy, not isolating one policy but recognizing all the factors that play into a woman’s decision.”

CT previously featured Cessilye R. Smith, a Black Christian woman who set out to address infant and maternal mortality among women of color with a free maternal health clinic and birthing center. “When the public eye sees the pro-life movement fighting to end abortion without looking at the root,” she said, “then you will always get the side-eye from the black community.”

Holloway, of Pro-Black Pro-Life, believes ministry leaders can draw from the Black church’s history of providing mutual aid. She hopes to see Christians expanding church networks and forming coalitions within congregations to support women’s access to quality reproductive health care and affordable, adequate housing.

“We don’t want condemnation. We want grace,” she said. “We want also for people to understand if they get themselves in a situation where they have an unplanned pregnancy, they shouldn’t have to run from the church; they should be running to it.”

Pew found that Christians from Black Protestant traditions are also the group most opposed to penalizing women who chose to terminate their pregnancies with criminal charges.

Holloway will continue her advocacy work, educating local Black communities about racial equity in health care and ways to support pregnant women and mothers in her home state of Ohio, where the Roe v. Wade reversal triggered a six-week abortion ban.

“We care about the life that is in the womb, but we also care about the man on the street. We also care about these children and where they’re getting their education and health care from and Grandma and Grandpa who are entering end-of-life care and that they’re treated with dignity and respect,” she said. “These are all whole-life issues for us.”

Some Black Christian leaders say they are eager for those who have rallied so passionately for the unborn to join whole-life causes to support women too: pay equity, childcare, affordable housing, mental health support, and health care.

“Every church does not have to do everything,” Holloway said. “Who do we know that we can accelerate some of these things with? They’re sitting in your pews.”

Amethyst Holmes is a freelance journalist based in Washington DC.

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