Happy Lutheran

This book came highly recommended by several colleagues, so I finally got around to reading it. I see what the fuss is all about.

The thesis is clear and straightforward: for more than a century a significant percentage of white evangelicals (especially men) have been cultivating a toxic “militant Christian masculinity” that has corrupted American Evangelicalism and contributed to our “nation’s fractured political landscape.” She makes a compelling argument, and it is unsettling to say the least.

Personally, I thought the book was a little longer than it needed to be, but it certainly is exhaustively researched. She begins in the 1900s, with Teddy Roosevelt, and ends with Trump’s presidency; and through the decades, she describes the same phenomenon, which continually resurfaces with different names and book titles. In the first chapter, Du Mez writes, “…in the 1910s, Christian men set out to ‘re-masculinize’ American Christianity” (17)—and she demonstrates convincingly that this project has been ongoing, and successful. 

This flavor of Evangelicalism champions “family values,” which is shorthand for obedience to patriarchal authority, traditional gender roles, female subservience—and, at its worst, complicity in abuse and sex scandals. It loves military metaphors, and links belief in God with jingoism. It feeds anxiety and mistrust toward anyone (women, people of color, Muslims) who might usurp white male privilege; this was on dramatic display in the last two elections: “Fears about cultural displacement far outweighed economic factors when it came to support for Trump” (267). [In 2016, Trump won 81% of white evangelical voters].

Here are a few other observations:

1. This movement has little to do with theology: “Today, what it means to be a conservative evangelical is as much about culture as it is about theology” (10).

2. This flavor of Evangelicalism loves an enemy; it thrives when it feels besieged—and loves positioning itself as the underdog. One way this works is by “manufacturing a sense of threat.”

3. The “avalanche” of cases of abuse, sexual misconduct, toxic misogyny, and gender straight-jacketing over the decades is shocking. “Immersed in these teachings about sex and power, evangelicals are often unable or unwilling to name abuse, to believe women, to hold perpetrators accountable, and to protect and empowered survivors” (278). The examples she gives are too numerous to cite, and too awful to recount.

4. Consumerism also plays a role: this ideology is fueled by a steady stream of books, DVDs, and other types of media.

5. Savvy politicians have known for decades how to court this voting block—and the sincerity of their own faith is entirely immaterial to their posturing. (The example of Jimmy Carter is a case in point—he was too “wimpy” for these Evangelicals). “From Reagan on, no Democrat would again win the majority of white evangelical support, or threaten the same” (106).

6. Hillary Clinton was never going to win the presidency. She was the “wrong kind” of Christian, first of all, and she had been a despised enemy since she was on the campaign trail with Bill in 1992, and made a disparaging remark about staying home and baking cookies.

There is one clear take-away from the book, and Du Mez summarizes it in her concluding sentences: “Appreciating how this ideology developed over time is also essential for those who wish to dismantle it. What was once done might also be undone” (304). 

The path to “undoing” is not that obvious, however; if it were simply a result of theological confusion, the remedy would be better and clearer teachings. But that is not the case. Instead, this problem is an identity issue. The reason this interpretation of Christianity has been so successful is because it reinforces and ungirds a way of being in the world that supports white male authority, normative family structures, American military prowess, and an assurance of cultural superiority against the threat of diversity [in all its forms] and globalization.

Instead, what is needed is the articulation of a different identity that rests on an authentic proclamation of the good news: an identity that flows from unity, not division; forgiveness, not judgment; grace, not works; and love, not hate. And–and this is the tricky part–an understanding of how this identity fosters a world that is good for everyone, even if it causes shifts in traditional power/economic/political structures. In our current climate, this isn’t easy. We have been conditioned to be competitors, to see one person’s gain as another’s loss, and to live in a scarcity model where others are a threat, change prompts anxiety, and I have to fight to keep what’s mine.

The gospel challenges all of this, which is why the gentle-but-insistent presence of the Holy Spirit is so important: without God’s agency–the transformative power of the gospel conforming us to Christ even in spite of ourselves and our sinful natures–this vision of life together, this vision of a shared identity in Christ would be impossible, and the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God just an illusion.

It is a whole different way of seeing the world, seeing oneself–and it is scary and wonderful and better than our best imagination. It’s a leap, but it is the only way forward.