It’s time for this one again:
Presidents Day, like most American holidays, is a celebration of shopping. But unlike holidays such as Christmas or Thanksgiving, where the commercial spirit is a corruption of the holiday’s true purpose, Presidents Day honors a man who truly loved to shop: George Washington.
Washington was a world class shopper. Of course, he couldn’t ride his horse over to Walmart, and there was no Amazon Prime to deliver. Instead, Washington ran an account with a London merchant who sold his tobacco and then used the proceeds to buy the things he wanted. Washington placed his orders and then waited, sometimes up to a year, for his goods to arrive.
Despite the inconvenience, Washington was a regular customer. He bought a Macy’s worth of hats, shirts, coats, gloves, breeches, stockings and shoes and enough furniture, home decorations, cups, saucers, plates and glasses to rival an IKEA.
Read the rest here.
James Tackach of Roger Williams University, author of the book Lincoln and the Natural Environment, thinks so. Lincoln scholar Allen Guelzo disagrees. Here is a taste of Hannah Nathanson’s Washington Post piece, “Lincoln’s Forgotten Legacy as America’s First “Green President“:
It is “eminently fair” to label Lincoln the nation’s first “green president,” said Tackach, the author of “Lincoln and the Natural Environment,” which explores the famous president’s relationship with nature. While in office, Lincoln enacted several pieces of legislation — including the Yosemite Grant Act, which set aside thousands of acres of California forest — that laid the groundwork for future U.S. efforts to preserve, protect and study the environment, historians said. The Yosemite Act in particular proved crucial, helping inspire Theodore Roosevelt to expand America’s national parks system.
Lincoln was spurred to act by the massive destruction inflicted on the American landscape by the Civil War; by his own love for nature; and by early warnings from some authors and politicians that human activity could damage the natural world, Tackach said. He was likely the first U.S. president to face these kinds of reports, according to historian Vernon Burton.
“Noted writers start to write about deforestation, over-hunting, certain species being wiped out, and you see Lincoln learning from that [and] trying to do something about it,” said Burton, a Clemson University professor of history and author of “The Age of Lincoln.” “He becomes aware of that, he’s trying to do something about it when he dies.”
Lincoln’s love affair with nature began during his childhood — spent in a dirt-floor log cabin located in “extremely rural” countryside, according to Burton. The future president milked cows, cleaned out barns and forked away manure, gaining an intimate knowledge of, and appreciation for, the natural world, Burton said.
That world changed dramatically in the course of Lincoln’s lifetime as the United States underwent rapid industrialization, transitioning from an agricultural society to an urban one. When Lincoln was born in 1809, 90 percent of Americans lived on farms, Tackach said. By the end of the 19th century, only a third did so.
It was a change Lincoln helped fuel.
Lincoln was an avid supporter of “internal improvements”: railroad building, canal construction and other infrastructure projects, according to Tackach. His first political party, the Whigs, saw internal improvements as the keystone of their policy platform.
These kinds of projects undoubtedly had a negative effect on the environment, Tackach said.
Allen Guelzo, a Princeton University historian who has written several books about the president, said he disagreed with the idea that Lincoln was environmentally minded. Guelzo noted that Lincoln was “ardent” on the subject of the Transcontinental Railroad, which he helped build by passing the Pacific Railroad Act of 1862. “Environmentally speaking, a disaster,” Guelzo said.
Even worse, Guelzo said, Lincoln signed into law the Homestead Act of 1862, which allowed any U.S. citizen who had not taken up arms against the Union to claim a 160-acre plot of western land for a small fee. That, too, was an “environmental fiasco,” according to Guelzo.
Read the entire piece here.
James Zogby, president of the Arab American Institute and managing editor of Zogby Research Services, thinks so.
Here is a taste of his piece at the National Catholic Reporter:
When we hear the “angry” Sanders speak about the gross inequalities in our rigged economy or the horrors of war, we hear echoes of Berrigan. When we heard Sanders ask his supporters to “look around you and find someone you don’t know, maybe someone who doesn’t look like you,” and then ask, “Are you willing to fight for that person who you don’t even know as much as you’re willing to fight for yourself?”, we hear the echoes of the Christian message of D’Silva. And when we hear Sanders call for a revolution that fights for racial, social, political and economic justice, we hear echoes of Martin Luther King.
Let me be clear: I loved Cardinal Joseph Bernardin’s “consistent ethic of life.” I abhor the absence of any reasoned discussion on the issue of abortion. The two sides have become so polarized that they can no longer even see the humanity of the other. In this regard, the bishops are, at times, as much at fault as those whom they oppose — and I believe that no good is served in this bitter standoff.
But to be equally clear: I believe that the sanctity of life, which the bishops claim to uphold, continues after birth. And focusing on abortion to the exclusion of all the evils that threaten the quality and sanctity of the lives of the living is, in my mind, a betrayal of our Christian responsibility to be for others.
Read the entire piece here.
Gregory Downs is Professor of History at the University of California, Davis. This interview is based on his new book, The Second American Revolution: The Civil War-Era Struggle over Cuba and the Rebirth of the American Republic (University of North Carolina Press, 2019).
JF: What led you to write The Second American Revolution?
GD: A gnawing pit in my stomach and a sense of unfinished business and a golden opportunity. The gnawing pit was from a feeling that I hadn’t done what I genuinely intended to in my American Historical Review essay “The Mexicanization of American Politics: The United States’ Transnational Path from Civil War to Stabilization.” I began that research with an interest in the interaction between domestic/national politics and international events, in the way that events in other nations shaped the discourse around what was possible or probable, and I wanted to use this to show U.S. politics as less bounded than our received terms convey, to explore the mutual construction of what gets classed as national and trans-national history, and to capture the ebb and flow of ideas through particular domestic political contexts. In the process of following the inflow of ideas about Mexican crises to U.S. politics in the 1850s-1870s, however, I never got to the truly interactive nature of those connections, and so in some ways reproduced a domestic framework, in which the United States was influenced by cultural ideas about other nations. This made me uncomfortable, as I knew there was a great deal to the Mexican side of the story that I hadn’t explored, and it also gave me a sense of unfinished business: how could I go further in exploring the mid-19th century as a broad crisis in republican theory, in which calculations of how (and whether) republics survived were shaped by ideas and political actors moving from one nation to another. There was much more to be said about the relationship between the United States mid-century crises and those in other countries.
The opportunity came in the Brose Lectures which gave me a format and an excuse to explore ideas that were historiographically important but might not fit easily into a book. And as I began reading and thinking more deeply, I became more impressed with the ways that the literature was already working to incorporate a multi-sided view of the U.S.-Mexican influence (especially in work by Erika Pani and Pat Kelly and others) and also with a thread I had worried over earlier but not followed: the centrality of Cuba. By following Cuban revolutionary exiles, I was able to find a way to follow circuits into and out of different countries’ domestic politics and to explore the connection between the revolutionary remaking of U.S. political structures and a global revolutionary wave that rose and then fell in the mid-19th century.
JF: In two sentences, what is the argument of The Second American Revolution?
GD: The Civil War was not merely civil–meaning national–and not merely a war, but instead an international conflict of ideas as well as armies. Its implications transformed the U.S. Constitution and reshaped a world order, as political and economic systems grounded in slavery and empire clashed with the democratic process of republican forms of government.
JF: Why do we need to read The Second American Revolution?
GD: The book examines the breadth of U.S. politics at a moment when we need to recover our sense of the bold and of the possible. Much of the book is dedicated to exploring those international currents I mentioned, and those have important (I believe) historiographical ramifications for U.S. history and potentially some interest for historians of Cuba and the Caribbean and 19th century Spain.) But the book also turns inward to examine the norm-breaking boldness of U.S. Republicans in the 1860s as they created new states, forced constitutional amendments through, marginalized the Supreme Court, and in other ways significantly altered the political system. Then, I argue, they covered their tracks in order to make their achievements seem moderate, and we have helped them do so by scolding them for their moderation. But in fact no political candidate offers solutions anywhere near as bold as “moderate” 1860s Republicans; no one matches John Bingham in threatening to dissolve the Supreme Court entirely if it doesn’t recognize the role it must play. Instead we have fallen into calling for respect for norms that are—as in the 1840s and 1850s—no longer respected. When faced with those norm violations, we tend to call for the referees. But there are no referees, other than the electorate. And to the electorate we make claims about broader failings but can’t offer plausible solutions; we tell them the political system is broken but don’t fix it. I think we need to recover our boldness and abandon our sense of futility. Rethinking the constitutional transgressions of the Civil War is one way we can expand our own political thinking to make it at least approach the boldness of allegedly moderate 1860s Republicans, and thus discover ways out of problems like the contemporary Supreme Court, the Senate, and other sticky but intractable problems of U.S. politics.
JF: When and why did you decide to become an American historian?
GD: As a child I was raised between Kauai and my extended family’s home of central Kentucky and my extended family’s eventual new home in Middle Tennessee, and I was from a young age fascinated by the differences between those places, by the way that race and politics and memory worked so differently in Kauai than in Kentucky, and by the shadow that events (the overthrow of the Hawaiian monarchy or the Civil War) continued to gnaw upon the present. I worked as a journalist and as a high school teacher, so I didn’t always know that I would be an academic historian, but I always believed that the study of the past was venerable, difficult, and essential.
JF: What is your next project?
GD: I am working on completing my friend Tony Kaye’s manuscript on Nat Turner, a project he was working on when he died. After that I have many projects I am contemplating and am enjoying the time to reflect on what I most want to do and most feel challenged by.
JF: Thanks, Greg!
A few things online that caught my attention this week:
Nathan Hatch on the political captivity of the church
David Brooks thinks the nuclear family was a mistake
Civil War chaplains and nationalism
Andrew Ferguson reviews Fergus M. Bordewich, Congress at War: How Republican Reformers Fought the Civil War, Defied Lincoln, Ended Slavery, and Remade America
Cathleen Kaveny reflects theologically on the death of her mother
Peter Leithart reviews N.T. Wright’s History and Eschatology
Utah women had the right to vote well before the 19th Amendment
The Amish are skeptical of climate change
Catholic college students vs. the KKK
Remember the sites of the slave trade
A relic from the election of 1800
Walter Isaacson reviews Edward Larson, Franklin & Washington: The Founding Partnership
Rev. Barry Black at the Trump impeachment trial
In August 2019, The New York Times Magazine published The 1619 Project, an attempt to reframe American history by “placing the consequences of slavery and the contributions of black Americans at the very center of our national narrative.” American historians have praised and criticized the project. In this episode we talk with Thomas Mackaman, a history professor at Kings University in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania and a writer for World Socialist Web Site. Mackaman has not only criticized The 1619 Project, but has interviewed other critics of the project, including several award-winning historians. Why are socialists so upset about this project? What is the backstory behind Mackaman’s interviews with Gordon Wood, James McPherson, Clayborne Carson, and other 1619 Project critics? Anyone interested in debates over how historians do history and connect the past to present political and social issues will learn something from this episode.
Tyler Rudd Putnam is the Gallery Interpretation Manager at the Museum of the American Revolution and a Ph.D candidate in the History of American Civilization Program in the Department of History at the University of Delaware. In his recent piece at the blog of the Journal of the History of Ideas, he makes a case for the practice of experiential history.
Here is a taste:
But when you practice a historical skill, you still move in much the same way as someone three centuries ago. You learn how to relax your grip on the needle to prevent hand- and wrist-aches. You feel how your back muscles tire and your posture changes after a day sitting “tailor fashion” with crossed legs. And you start to notice things. Lint floating in the air. The miniscule sensation in your fingers communicated by a needle that has a small barb growing at its tip. How it’s possible to daydream and almost even fall asleep amid the rhythmic motions of sewing long seams. We will always need words to create history. But it’s in these moments of experiencing elements of what is was like in the past that you connect with people long gone. This makes you a better historian because you can describe the past better.
I think historians are getting more comfortable with this sort of experiential history as we look beyond traditional practices and decolonize the academy, opening up the field of history to more nontraditional practitioners and approaches. More academics are receptive to forms of evidence once considered beyond the pale of historical work. Scholars are considering how to recapture the past in new ways less bound to old means, and they are rediscovering old family stories, legends, objects, and rituals, and seeking to imagine how food tasted and what the past might have felt like.
Read the entire piece here.
As I read Putman’s piece I was reminded of a scholar who I met while I was a fellow at a major research library located on a prominent early American historical site. After we got to know each other, he asked me if I would be willing to go into the woods and help him chop down a particular type of tree used for building eighteenth-century houses. He wanted to get a feel for what it was like for servants or slaves to build the estate on this site. I don’t know if he ever got permission to do this, but I thought it was a great idea.
Yes, they do exist. Check out a really entertaining post by Amanda Claunch at the blog of the Missouri Historical Society. A taste:
In the Victorian era and into the early 20th century, it was also popular to send “vinegar valentines” to fend off unwanted suitors or to tell someone you didn’t like how you really felt. Always insulting, the cards mocked a person’s profession, personal characteristics, or appearance. To add insult to injury, the cards were designed to be anonymous and didn’t require postage, necessitating the recipient to pay for delivery.
Relatively few of these vinegar valentines survived, because the recipients frequently destroyed them. There are even accounts of these mean-spirited missives resulting in fistfights, lawsuits, and shootings! The Missouri Historical Society’s collections contain hundreds of valentines, and among the cards covered in hearts, lacy cut-outs, and sentimental poetry, there are also some zingers.
Read the entire piece and see the anti-Valentines here.
Did African Americans have faith in 18th-century revolutions? Did African American religious faith have anything to do with their support of these revolutions? Over at the Age of Revolutions blog, James Sidbury, a historian at Rice University, tries to sort it all out.
Here is a taste:
If any answer to a question about black people’s faith in revolution during the Age of Revolution hinges on contingencies—which black people? when? where?—questions about the role of faith in black people’s responses to the Age of Revolution are even less susceptible to generalization. The late eighteenth century was famously the time when evangelical Christian movements first sought black converts in English-speaking North America. Baptist and Methodist churches engaged in the most successful outreach to the enslaved. Many black Christians were drawn to Old Testament stories of a vengeful God’s complicated relationships with his enslaved Chosen People; their faith held that God would deliver his newly Chosen from bondage just as he had delivered Israelites from Pharaoh. This could and did inspire both a revolutionary commitment to bring God’s justice to Earth, and a quietist conviction that the enslaved must wait for divine deliverance. When black Virginians debated a planned uprising in 1800, both cases were made. One conspirator argued for delaying the insurrection until “God had blessed them with an Angel” like the one he sent when “the Israelites . . . were carried away [from Egypt] by Moses.” He was answered with a passage drawn from Leviticus in which God promised that “five of you shall conquer an hundred and a hundred, a thousand . . . enemies.” The potential conspirators’ faith was integral to the way they thought about revolution, but faith did not create lines separating those who rebelled from those who did not. Instead, it offered narrative tools the enslaved could use to think about the daunting problems that revolution posed.
Faith created communities of people who could trust one another enough to risk the collective resistance necessary for revolution. An unusually clear illustration of this dynamic can be seen in a little-known 1800 uprising in Freetown, Sierra Leone. Freetown was a British colony that had been organized by the Sierra Leone Company and settled by black Loyalists about a decade after the end of the Revolutionary War. Most of the settlers had been slaves in North America. Whether in Nova Scotia, where they were first taken after the War, or in Freetown, they organized themselves into tight-knit religious communities. Some were Baptists, others Wesleyan Methodists, and still others Huntingtonian Methodists. All chose to migrate to Africa within congregations, and all lived and organized themselves in Africa as congregational communities. From their arrival in 1793 until the uprising in 1800 they grew increasingly unhappy about the political and religious authority claimed by the white Governors sent by the Company. The settlers had seen their passage to Africa in explicitly religious terms, celebrating their arrival by hailing the “Year of Jubilee” when “ransomed sinners” returned “home.” Soon after their arrival, they petitioned the Company in the name of “Preachers of the Gospel” and the “Setlers in this Place.” In later complaints, they compared themselves to the “Children of Esaral” seeking “the promise land.” These black settlers living in Africa conceived of their mission in explicitly spiritual terms, and their understanding of their churches as gathered communities allowed them to organize an uprising to fight the Company for the right to live as autonomous black communities. When they rose to that fight, they concluded the document in which they asserted their right to live under their own laws by declaring that document, and by extension their community, to be “just before God and Man.”
Read the entire piece here.
Justin Rose, a professor of political science and Africana studies at Hobart and William Smith Colleges, offers an alternative way of understanding Donald Trump’s famous mantra. Here is a taste of his Black Perspectives piece “Martin Luther King Jr. on Making America Great Again“:
As a Christian minister, King summarized his life in this manner, because he firmly believed that, “Jesus gave us a new norm of greatness. If you want to be important—wonderful. If you want to be recognized—wonderful. If you want to be great—wonderful. But recognize that he who is greatest among you shall be your servant.” According to King, Jesus taught that the drive to be great is an admirable instinct when greatness is evaluated by how much one serves others. Armed with Jesus’s precept, King called upon his parishioners to redefine greatness by becoming drum majors in the quest for justice, peace and righteousness.Today, as the nation celebrates the life of King, it would behoove us to take a moment to fully interrogate our definition of greatness.
How the nation chooses to define greatness will have grave implications. On the one hand, we can choose to “make America great again” by embracing an ethos of xenophobia, misogyny, and racism, as has been advocated by the current President of the United States. According to this definition of greatness, we should always put America first, even when others are desperately in need of assistance. Thus, when asylum seekers arrive at our borders, the President’s definition of greatness dictates that we give in to a politics of fear and turn them away on the flimsy premise of their proclivity to violence. In contrast, King called upon Americans to redefine greatness by embracing an ethos that he called “dangerous altruism.”
Read the entire piece here.
If you study American evangelicalism, you have probably made a visit to the Billy Graham Center Archives at Wheaton College. Last year the archives lost the papers of the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, but it also acquired some very interesting collections. Here is a taste of a recent post at the archives blog:
Every once in a while, acquisitions in a given year seem to follow a specific theme. In 2018 we received several large collections of private papers by prominent figures in evangelistic ministry, including Merrill Dunlop, Luis Palau, Merv Rosell, and George Beverly Shea. On the other hand, 2019 was the year of the authors. Individuals who had written significant books on evangelism and /or evangelical history contributed their research files, which included boxes and boxes of letters, transcripts, audio recordings, photos, and more that they had gathered. For example, Valarie Elliot Shepard donated the letters her parents had written to each other during their courtship, which formed the basis of her book, Devoted: The Personal Letters and Love Story of Jim and Elisabeth Elliot (2019) The gift also included Jim Elliot’s papers from his days as a Wheaton College student. The Elliots were best known for their involvement in evangelism among the Waorani people of Ecuador. The Waorani had never heard the Christian gospel, and Jim and five other men formed a project to reach them. On January 6, 1956 after an initial friendly contact, all five men were killed by members of the tribe. In October 1958, Elisabeth, along with Rachael Saint, the sister of one of the five, and three-year old Valerie traveled into the jungle to live among the Waorani and begin the work that was to bring many of them to faith in Jesus Christ.
Read the entire post here.
Yesterday in Created and Called for Community we read an excerpt from John Henry Newman‘s “What is a University,” a chapter in his 1852 book The Idea of a University. Newman wrote this book while serving as rector of Catholic University of Ireland. (today it is known as University College Dublin), a school that he helped found.
We started our conversation, as we always do, by sourcing the document. Who was Newman? Several students found it interesting that Newman was not welcomed to teach at Oxford University, an Anglican institution of higher learning, after he converted to Catholicism. This was a great opportunity to think about previous course readings. As we learned from Randy Basinger’s recorded lecture last week, Christian colleges and universities often place boundaries on faculty and students. These boundaries are usually defined by belief and behavior rooted in the particular school’s mission and understanding of Christian faith. In 19th-century England, Oxford was a Protestant institution. I pointed out that Oxford was not as inclusive as present-day Messiah College, a Christian college that hires Protestants, Catholics, and Orthodox believers. As we noted last week, other Christian colleges such as Wheaton College, Gordon College, or Calvin University do not hire Catholic professors. If Newman were teaching at one of these colleges at the time he converted to Catholicism, he would need to leave.
We also thought together about Newman’s “What is a University?” in its 19th-century context. Students quickly noted that Newman was writing in a world where only men attended university. His understanding of “diversity” was limited when compared to our modern understanding of “diversity.” For Newman, diversity meant different kinds of white men.
At this point I paused and explained how I might teach this document differently in a history course. I imagined teaching Newman’s ideas in a course on 19th-century British history. In such a course my primary goal would be to get students to think about what Newman’s essay teaches us about his world. But in CCC, my primary goal is less about getting my students to understand the “foreign country” of 19th-century Great Britain and more about trying to get them to think about whether Newman has anything to offer our understanding of Christian higher education today.
This discussion allowed me to reinforce an important lesson about studying at a college (like Messiah College) with a robust general education program informed by the liberal arts. Each discipline in the curriculum offers students a different way of thinking about the world. I used global poverty to illustrate my point. In a political science class, for example, students might address global poverty by thinking about ways of alleviating it through public policy. In a history class, students might reflect on the roots of global poverty or the kind of choices humans have made in the past that have resulted in global poverty. In a psychology class, students might reflect on the relationship between global poverty and mental health. In a literature class, students might read stories of global poverty–fiction and non-fiction–that trigger their moral imaginations. In an environmental studies class students might think about the links between climate change and global poverty. And so on…. This is the kind of “connectedness” that Ernest L. Boyer described in his essay on Messiah College.
It was now time to dive into the text. I started the conversation by asking the question in Newman’s title: “What is a University?” Some students were drawn to Newman’s claim that a university is “a place for the communication and circulation of thought, by means of personal intercourse….” I asked them to suggest some ways in which “thought” is communicated and circulated at a university. Students, of course, mentioned their professors imparting knowledge in formal class settings. But I wanted them to think beyond the classroom. We talked about the word “circulate.” How do ideas circulate on a college campus? Like bees released from the hive, ideas should be buzzing constantly around the campus. They should fly out of the classroom door and fill the sidewalks, cafeteria, and dorms–constantly circulating through conversation and discussion.
We also discussed Newman’s idea that the university is a place–a real, flesh and blood, place. Newman writes: “The general principles of any study you may learn by books at home; but the detail, the colour, the tone, the air, the life, which makes it live in us, you must catch all these from those in whom it lives already.” In an age of online learning, virtual reality, and the internet I wondered if my students thought Newman’s call for face-to-face learning was still relevant? I was surprised that so many students, struggling to keep their phones out of sight as they consulted an essay published on paper, seemed to agree with him here.
Several students wanted to talk about Newman’s idea of the university as a place focused on character building. We had a good discussion here about gender. Newman often thinks of character in masculine terms. He wants his university to produce good 19th-century “gentlemen” with proper “carriage,” “gait,” and “gestures.” But my students also agreed that some of the character traits Newman hoped students would learn in college were still relevant today. My students wanted an education that helped them be more courteous and conversant. They wanted a university to help them develop “the talent of not offending,” “delicacy of thought,” “happiness of expression,” “taste and propriety,” “generosity,” “forbearance,” and “candour.” These character traits, they argued, transcend time (the 19th-century) and gender. The students universally agreed with my claim that the modern pluralistic university is no longer very concerned about character building.
We closed class by discussing liberal arts education as a form of “catechising.” Newman writes:
Truth, a subtle, invisible, manifold spirit, is poured into the mind of the scholar by his eyes and ears, through his affections, imagination, and reason: it is poured into this mind and is sealed up there in perpetuity, by propounding and repeating it, by questioning and requestioning, by correcting and explaining, by progressive and then recurring to first principles, by all those ways which are implied in the word “catechising .” In the first ages, it was a work of a long time; months, sometimes years, were devoted to the arduous task of disabusing the mind of the incipient Christian of its pagan errors, and of moulding it upon the Christian faith.
For most of my students, “catechism” is a foreign word. They attend evangelical churches that do not offer formal programs of catechism designed to shape the mind, heart, and soul of young women and men in the congregation. Catechism is an invitation to spiritual formation. Spiritual growth seldom comes through the mountain-top experience at a weekend youth retreat. It comes instead through the daily grind of practicing the spiritual disciplines–scripture reading and memorization, prayer, fasting, and other practices that take our focus off self and put it on God and others.
This is how Newman understands the catechizing nature of a liberal arts education. Intellectual formation comes through repetition, discipline, questioning, requestioning, correcting, explaining, and the regular appeal to “first principles.” Yes, students may get temporary intellectual “highs” as they encounter an inspiring professor or attend an undergraduate conference, but the”arduous task” of “disabusing the mind” of errors and “moudling” it in truth takes time. It takes a lifetime.
On Monday we start the “Creation” unit. We will begin in a very familiar place.
I think Annie must have inspired University of Virginia Civil War historian Gary Gallagher. 🙂
Here is a taste of his piece at The Conversation:
As a historian who has written and taught about the Civil War era for several decades, I know that current divisions pale in comparison to those of the mid-19th century.
More than 3 million men took up arms, and hundreds of thousands of black and white civilians in the Confederacy became refugees. Four million enslaved African Americans were freed from bondage.
After the war ended, the country soon entered a decade of virulent, and often violent, disagreement about how best to order a biracial society in the absence of slavery.
To compare anything that has transpired in the past few years to this cataclysmic upheaval represents a spectacular lack of understanding about American history.
Read the rest here.
Here is Sarah Pulliam Bailey and Julie Zauzmer at The Washington Post:
Most of Trump’s current relationships with evangelical pastors, particularly with believers in Pentecostal, charismatic and prosperity gospel strains of Christianity, appear to have developed only as he considered running for president. Trump also changed some of his beliefs in recent years, including his shift to oppose abortion.
Several pastors, as well as two former White House officials, said they have never seen Trump pray in front of others. Instead, he regularly asks for Vice President Pence or for one of his many evangelical Cabinet members to pray. He does not regularly reference God in making his decisions, these aides say, and they have never seen him open a Bible. But he has long coveted the visual of having pastors pray for him, including the distinct image of the laying on of hands.
Sean Feucht, a Christian musician running for Congress in California, attended a meeting in December organized by White, which brought about 50 Christian leaders, most of them Pentecostal, to the Oval Office. Trump asked the guests to pray for him.
“It was bold, loud prayer” in the charismatic, Pentecostal style, Feucht said. “We were all praying at once, lifting our voices. It wasn’t solemn and organized. It was lively and loud. I think that he’s drawn to that.”
Trump was a silent appreciator, not joining in.
The president’s first line to the pastors that day, before the prayer, was a jab at Pelosi for claiming to pray for him, Feucht said.
Read the entire piece here.
We also learn from this piece that Trump rewrote his National Prayer Breakfast speech on the way to the event to include attacks on the faith of Mitt Romney and Nancy Pelosi.
Here is Matt Young at the Dallas Observer:
“Dr. Robert Jeffress will be interviewing former White House press secretary Sarah Sanders live about her life in Washington, D.C., as a career woman, wife, mother and believer in Christ on Sunday, March 1 at 9:15 and 10:50 a.m. in the Worship Center,” First Baptist Dallas’ press release reads. “An early supporter of President Trump, Sarah joined the Trump campaign as a senior adviser in February 2016 during the Republican primary, and continued in that role through the President’s defeat of Hillary Clinton, one of the greatest and most unexpected victories in American history.”
There’s no way the twin interviews, both held smack in the middle of Sunday worship, are pushing a political agenda. No way at all. No chance Sanders is doing this event ahead of a run for governor in Arkansas, either. The whole thing’s just a big Baptist coincidence.
Sarah Sanders claims to be an evangelical Christian. She has also told endless lies on behalf of Donald Trump. Somehow I doubt she is going to First Baptist to make a public confession.
I spent most of my late teens and early twenties getting schooled in dispensational theology. We spent a lot of time trying to figure out when the rapture would come, the nature of the Great Tribulation, and the signs Antichrist’s coming. I haven’t thought about this stuff in a while, but I have been struck lately by how many people–smart religious people–have been talking about the Antichrist.
A friend recently sent me a blog post by theologian Benjamin Corey, a self-identified member of the Christian Left with an masters degree from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary and a Ph.D from Fuller Theological Seminary.
Corey dug through the Bible and found every prophecy on the Antichrist. Whatever you think about biblical prophecy, his list is very interesting, entertaining, and perhaps even revealing.
Here are a few characteristics of the Antichrist:
- The Antichrist will be a leader of a nation that is a military superpower with the ability to trample and crush the entire earth. (Daniel 7:23)
- The Antichrist will be a man who is exceptionally arrogant and will be known for giving boastful speeches. (Daniel 7:8, Revelation 13:5)
- The Antichrist will be someone known for making a lot of public threats against the people (Revelation 13:2, Daniel 7:4)
- The Antichrist will be a political outsider with despicable character and a contemptuous personality who wins an election that no one expects him to win. (Daniel 11:21)
- The Antichrist will give speeches where he speaks “great things” and then about things that are even “greater.” (Daniel 7:20)
- The Antichrist’s rise to power will seem like a miracle that God performed, tricking people into following Satan instead of God without even noticing. (2 Thess. 2:9)
- Once in power the Antichrist will reveal that his heart wants to make alterations to the “appointed times” that are in current laws. (Daniel 7:25)
- The Antichrist will make fake news popular and will be a chronic liar. His followers will believe his delusions because they hate the truth. (Daniel 8:25, 2 Thess.2:10)
- The Antichrist will draw strong support from many Christians as if they are willfully blind and outright delusional (Matt 24:24, 2 Thess 2:10)
- The Antichrist will appear to receive a wound he can’t recover from, but will survive to put down the first attempts to remove him from office. (Revelation 13:3)
- The Antichrist will worship the god of border walls. (Daniel 11:37-38)
Read the rest here.
The number of full-time faculty jobs in history has declined over the past year, but the history job market appears to be stabilizing. The number of Ph.D.s in history is dropping.
Here is Colleen Flaherty at Inside Higher Ed:
The new data appeared in the American Historical Association’s annual jobs report, released Wednesday. The report is based on jobs posted to the AHA Career Center and the separate H-Net Job Guide. About 25 percent of historians work outside academe, so the report does not reflect the entire jobs outlook, but it is considered representative of overall disciplinary trends.
“We may have reached a point of stability in the academic job market,” reads the report, written by Dylan Ruediger, an AHA staffer. During the 2018-19 hiring cycle, the AHA Career Center hosted ads for 538 full-time positions, making for a 1.8 percent decline year over year.
Read the entire piece here.
I will be speaking on April 23 and 24:
The 25th Anniversary Festival of Faiths “Sacred Stories: Contemplation & Connection” happens April 21-25 in Louisville, Ky., and will celebrate the power of narratives to give us meaning in a complex world. Thought leaders from around the globe will gather to share ideas and carry on conversations about how people of all faiths might come together to create positive change.
Festival of Faiths 2020 featured speakers to include:
Omid Safi, On Being Project, Duke University
Brie Stoner, co-host of the podcast “Another Name For Every Thing with Richard Rohr”
Lee Hale, host of the podcast “PREACH”
Sharon Salzberg, New York Times bestselling author and teacher of Buddhist meditation
John Fea, professor of history at Messiah College
Lyla June, poet and hip-hop artist
Ramtin Arablouei & Rund Abdelfatah, co-hosts/producers of NPR’s “Throughline” podcast
Michael Gungor, co-host of “The Liturgists Podcast”
Rabbi Dr. Shmuly Yanklowitz, president and dean of Valley Beit Midrash
Learn more here.
…few think that the acquittal of President Trump is a triumph for the Constitution. Instead, it reveals a different, disturbing lesson, about how the American political system—and the Constitution itself—might be fundamentally flawed.
Since the writing of the Constitution, three developments have substantially altered the effectiveness of impeachment as a check on presidential misconduct.
- Extreme partisanship
- The internet and social media
- The direct election of Senators
See how he develops these points here.