Yes, David, There Is Such a Thing As American Religious Exceptionalism
And it consists of separation of church and state
Back in the 1990s, the Reason Foundation, my employer as editor of Reason, held a fundraising gala with Margaret Thatcher as the featured speaker. After her talk, the former prime minister took some questions, leading to a funny cultural moment. What, asked a guest, did she think about prayer in public schools?
Thatcher appeared baffled by the question, seemingly unaware that prayer in schools was controversial in the United States or, for that matter, anywhere. She answered something to the effect that she thought it was always nice to have a prayer or hymn. She didn’t make an argument. She treated the answer as completely anodyne—as if, in other words, she was speaking to a British audience accustomed to the existence of an established church.
This story came to mind because of the recent convergence of two year-end cultural experiences. The first was a moment in The Great British Baking Show: Holidays, as it’s known in the U.S. (I wrote about the main Great British Bake-Off series as a model of cultural evolution here). “The bakers can turn their attention to what Christmas is all about,” said the narrator. “Decorations.” Decorations? Really? I seem to remember something about angels, shepherds, and a babe in a manger.
When I converted to Judaism, I gave up Christmas and, unlike many converts, I’ve never really missed it. But watching bakers make Christmas treats did make me wonder whether Christmas might be a more joyous season in a culture that wears religion more lightly. It’s nice to have a winter solstice holiday marking a break in winter gloom and celebrated with festive decorations, traditional music, and characteristic foods. Yule is older in Britain than Christianity. Combine that history with an established church and you get a less religiously fraught holiday season. On London sidewalks, you see carolers singing religious hymns without regard to theology, while Americans are stuck with Dean Martin and Mariah Carey.
After the Christmas bakeoff, came another Advent experience: the Dec. 19 article by David Brooks titled “The Shock of Faith: It’s Nothing Like I Thought It Would Be.” Brooks tells us he has discovered that faith isn’t about belief but about “numinous experiences” and “wonder and awe.” His faith is yearning for the infinite, divorced from factual claims. It requires neither accepting nor rejecting the belief that Jesus was God incarnate. Brooks writes that “I’ve had to accept the fact that when you assent to faith, you’re assenting to putting your heart at the center of your life.” What a statement! It would in multiple ways, confound my Calvinist forebears.
The essay is a complex piece of writing, articulating feelings that are hard to pin down. As a writer, I found it brave and accomplished. But as someone who has taken religion exceptionally seriously since I was a wee lass, I found it aggravating and superficial. Brooks rifles through the works of sectarian thinkers like Joseph Soloveitchik and John Calvin, pulling quotes as though their ideas were as banal as a guidance counselor’s office poster. (Mark Oppenheimer’s take, titled “David Brooks, Please Stop Saying You Are Jewish,” is a good read.) I’m old-fashioned enough to think it matters whether you affirm that Jesus was God incarnate. Does im-anu-el mean “God is with us,” as the normal Hebrew translation would have it, or “God with us,” as Christians believe? Pick one.
Eventually I had an epiphany: One of America’s culturally defining characteristics, so deeply embedded that its pervasive influence is rarely acknowledged, is our lack of a default religious affiliation. David Brooks can’t be a Disraeli Jew because there is no equivalent of Church of England. We have no official religion to fall back on when you need a wedding, funeral, coming of age ceremony, or community of shared meaning. Everyone has to choose. The “cafeteria Christianity” derided by religious conservatives, along with its non-Christian variants, arises from this cultural requirement.
Dig down another cultural layer and the lack of a default religion reveals another obvious truth about American culture. This is a Protestant country and, more specifically, a Methodist and Anabaptist country. Individual conscience reigns. The Catholic converts of the theocratic integralist intellectual movement may be smart fellows but, in the American context, they’re also ridiculous—too absurd, in my view, to take seriously outside of culturally Catholic countries like Italy. (For a serious critique, Kevin Vallier’s book All the Kingdoms of the World is the go-to text. His post about exchanges with integralist students is worth reading.)
In American culture, religion isn’t a matter of state power, family inheritance, or even divine election (sorry, Calvinist ancestors). You have to choose. Even if what you choose strikes other people as self-indulgent or wrong. As I recently wrote, “The one place in American life where that [“permissionless”] paradigm reigns is religion, thanks not just to First Amendment jurisprudence but to a national culture built by religious dissenters with strong opinions. Anybody can start a new religion and try to gather followers.”
This essay was first published in Virginia Postrel’s newsletter. It is reprinted here with permission.
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I don't think Brooks realizes how BoBo he sounds in his claim to "numinous experiences." A desire for an "experience" is no reason to get religion: you can get that at all kinds of ersatz religions, say, kundalini yoga.
𝗛𝗼𝗹𝘆 𝗛𝘆𝗽𝗼𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘆: 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗚𝗼𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗡𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗺
𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗣𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿, 𝗣𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗰𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗛𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗛𝗶𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗡𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗵
https://patricemersault.substack.com/p/holy-hypocrisy-the-blasphemous-gospel