There's a Time and a Place
Fundamentalists, Hubris, The Shire, Mordor, and The Wilderness of Sin
My house is full of little children, all playing quietly and being delightful, which makes it extremely hard to tear myself away and gape at a screen, but I’m nothing if not a radically sacrificial sort of person, and so here I am, beginning the real work of the day.
Yesterday I mentioned the Great Winsomeness Debacle of 2023 and its latest chapter, the moment when Russell Moore said a lot of not-very-nice things about the motivations of James Wood,
but then I went on to discuss other matters. Today, in the fifteen minutes I have allotted for the Daily Blog, I wanted to pick up some of the sticks and make them stand upright and account for themselves.
First of all, I came across this article sometime yesterday, about what a Fundamentalist is. Moore, you might remember, called Wood, though without explicitly naming him, a “fundamentalist Calvinist.” Could that possibly be true, even imagining one knew what it meant? Aaron Renn makes some helpful and clarifying points. After talking about the darker side of “fundamentalism,” that displeasing posture towards the world that some Christians seem to display, he observes that “A fundamentalist, practically speaking, will mean anyone who threatens the incumbent power structure from the right.” This expansive and terrifying category, as you may have noticed, is gathering up more and more individuals and points-of-view as Clown World careens ever leftward. Renn goes on:
Note that this is directly aligned with Keller’s description of the evangelical field, which he drew from Vermurlen. He wrote, “All fields are basically hierarchical, with some who have more capital and become gatekeepers of the field and others who are more marginal. Newcomers are never welcome—all other groups will seek to paint them as illegitimate and will seek to define them in ways that will make it difficult for them to acquire influence (capital).” Defining someone as a fundamentalist, explicitly or implicitly, is one way to “paint them as illegitimate” and “define them in ways that will make it difficult for them to acquire influence.”
Renn describes the other ways that people with the wrong sorts of beliefs are put beyond the pale, as it were, without anyone ever having to think seriously about what they’re saying:
People who are either newcomers or perceived as threats by the various incumbent groups in the evangelical field will thus have to consciously fight very hard to acquire the capital they need to become effective participants in that field.
In conclusion:
There is such a thing as fundamentalism, which has many legitimately negative characteristics.
While it isn’t always possible or wise to partner with fundamentalists, we should affirm them as our people and seek to lead them in a better direction.
Practically speaking, people will implicitly or explicitly get labeled a fundamentalist if they are perceived as a threat to incumbent evangelical elites from the right.
People so labeled will frequently be subjected to the cone of silence tactic, meaning they will have to work extra hard to get their message out.
I have my own list of people I would probably call “fundamentalist,” though I haven’t managed to gin up feelings of contempt for them, which I think is essential if you want to properly form an “in” group. That Pissith Against The Wall guy, for example, is someone I would never seriously listen to, especially about the Bible, but he is awfully entertaining.
The thing that is pertinent for us today is not the actual definition of the word “fundamentalist”, nor whether James Wood has been a hater of all people for daring to gently criticize the evangelical elite of our age. Rather, it is that Moore doesn’t possess two crucial pieces of information. He doesn’t know where he lives and he doesn’t know what time it is. In the first case, he thinks he is living in Mordor for some reason, instead of that complicated realm that is neither the Shire nor the Fires of Hell, but rather can only be found in another book that more people should read, the Wilderness of Sin. Of course it’s not the Shire, but ministering angels dutifully provide for your basic needs and your shoes never wear out. It’s not great, but it’s not that bad either. It’s literally the part of the trilogy between the first chapter of volume one and the last chapter of volume three that Tolkien cribs from the Pentateuch. Unfortunately, Moore was confused on this point, and so, in living too comfortably before, he now lives in the realm of nightmares. Here’s what he has to say about ‘Merica:
On the other side of the reverse altar call, I started to question everything… That began a period not just of questioning all my assumptions, but also of simultaneously grieving my lost religious home and my own burdened conscience, recognizing complicity in participating for so long in something that now seemed both inane and predatory. I couldn’t help but wonder if the plot twist to the story of American conservative Christianity was that what we thought was the Shire was Mordor all along. I pretend that all of that is past me, but it lingers, in the ringing in my ears of the stress-induced tinnitus that persists to this day, and that fact that I am still waiting for one sleep without nightmares about the Southern Baptist Convention. But here I am, an accidental exile but an evangelical after all. (10-11)
I think the way you descend from the heights into the depths in so short a moment of time is by thinking of your participation in something more highly than you ought. I’ve often noticed this. My investment in something or someone means a lot more, in general, to me than it does to the person to whom I’m bequeathing myself. And vice versa. Someone might do something for me and I think nothing of it until I discover that I injured that person by not noticing what she did, and didn’t communicate appropriate gratitude. Not always, but in those dark periods when I am esteeming myself too highly, I am always shocked to see the chasm between what I thought something meant, and the value measured out by the other. I gave you this beautiful gift of myself, I say, and you didn’t think it was that great, or thought that you were owed whatever it was I was giving.
I think that Evangelicalism in its most winsome form over the last twenty years esteemed itself far too highly. The gift of advice, of culture-making, of setting the tone of debate was offered to the low-life rubes as a sparkling gift to be treasured, but the poor benighted America lovers didn’t see the gift for what it was and went on arguing and voting for Trump just the same. That sense of rejection turns everything to ash. You did, indeed, think you were living in the Shire when you sat atop the heap, but when you find that everyone distrusts you and doesn’t want to know what you think, it probably does feel like some sort of hell. The glass shards of disapprobation feel cruel and alienating, whether or not they are meant that way.
This relates to the second crucial piece of information Moore lacks—the Time. Whatever part of the story of American Conservative Christianity Moore is reading isn’t the part that’s being written right now. In the first instance, what the word “conservative” means probably differs according to who you ask. Does Moore think of himself as a conservative? If so, what on earth is he conserving? In the second instance, how is Moore missing the epic struggle going on this very moment between those who want the freedom of their own religious convictions, and those who don’t want anyone to speak about anything meaningful in any sphere? How is he missing the catastrophic corruption at the very heart of our body politic? How is he missing that the right to speak and to worship is in grave peril and that if Christians don’t tell the truth now, clearly, and incontrovertibly, soon it will be too late?
I don’t know if I will read Moore’s book. I have so many jumbled all over every corner of this house, but maybe after I finally see the Barbie movie I’ll be able to find the time. Have a nice day!
What the evangelical elite (or, at least, those who think of themselves as the evangelical elite) hope is that through their winsomeness they can convince their opponents that Christians (a certain sort, of course) really aren't that bad. They are certainly not like "those" Christians over *there* (the conservative sort who tend to want to draw pesky little straight lines between moral issues). Except that the world will never love Christians, no matter how winsome we are. I do agree that scripture teaches that we are not to be jerks, but frankly, people are converted by the Holy Spirit and not my tone on a given occasion. And they killed Jesus, after all. Why do we expect that we should be received any differently?
I've been disillusioned since 2016. Words like "fundamentalist" and "conservative" have ceased to have any denotative meaning without qualifiers. I am in mind of that ridiculous song that says, give me that old time religion. It's good enough for me." What "old time religion" would that be? Panthesism? Animism? Buddhism? Islam? Roman Catholicism? Without context, and without cultural anchors, words can become signifiers of anything. Or nothing.