Protestant Churches in America during a Time of Hope

by Douglas F. Ottati from Davidson College

Let me to begin with a word of thanks to Prof. Paolo Naso for his very kind invitation to join you at Ecumene, to Director Fani and to all of you in attendance at the conference for your very gracious hospitality and stimulating conversations, and to my friend Prof. Garrone for his very generous introduction. It is indeed my pleasure to be here.

After eight years of the George W. Bush administration, Barak Hussein Obama has been elected President of the United States of America. Given the issues and positions Mr. Obama outlined during his campaign, the change from Bush’s conservative domestic social agenda and unilateral or even “cowboy” style in international relations promises to be significant. Quite dramatically, Mr. Obama is also the first person of color and the first son of a foreign national to be elected President of the United States. Change is definitely in the air, although no one really knows just how much change to expect or how soon to expect it. And so, now is a good time to ask about the Protestant churches and the changed political scenario in the United States.

Protestant Churches in the United States
The first thing to note when we consider the Protestant churches in the United States is their variety. Historically, there have been Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Methodists, Quakers, Baptists, Unitarians, Mennonites, and more – many of whom are subdivided into different churches, e.g., the Presbyterian Church (USA), the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, and the Orthodox Presbyterian Church. From the 18th century forward, there has been an evangelical movement that influences Protestants who belong to many different churches. For well over a century, there have also been Protestant churches in America whose members are predominately Black. Recently, there have been significant increases among Pentecostals. In short, Protestants and their churches in the United States are neither uniform nor unified. They often respond differently to the same circumstances and events, and they are likely to respond differently to the new political climate.

Let me comment on four groups: evangelicals, peace churches, Black churches, and mainline churches.

There is a strong evangelical movement among Protestants in the United States that cuts across different churches and denominations. Many Southern Baptists and Pentecostals identify themselves as evangelicals, but so do some Methodists, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, and more. Historically, evangelicals in the U.S. have emphasized individual conversion experiences. The typical context for these experiences was the rural “tent meeting” (which Billy Graham later expanded to the impressive dimensions of Yankee Stadium). Politically speaking, evangelical Protestants in the United States have tried to influence society by changing individuals, and they have been identified in recent decades with the Republican Party. Many evangelicals have been highly interested in so-called social and cultural “values issues,” such as abortion, homosexuality, and prayer in public schools. Moreover, they often have cherished the idea of a “Christian America” that differs from other nations and has its own unique mission in world affairs. Along these lines, one thinks especially perhaps of the late Jerry Falwell and of Pat Robertson, but there are also very many others.

There have been signs of change among American evangelicals in recent years. With the end of the Cold War, for example, it no longer made sense to focus, as Billy Graham, Robertson, and others once did, on the alleged evils of communism, and some now focus instead on alleged evils of Islam. (See, for example, some comments made by Billy Graham’s son Franklin.) At the same time, however, Rick Warren, who was sufficiently influential during this past presidential campaign to appear on the cover of Time Magazine and to host a debate between the two main candidates, has tried to broaden the range of moral issues that evangelicals engage from the usual “values agenda” to include education, world hunger, and combating AIDS.

The piety of the “peace churches” often emphasizes being a radical and nonviolent disciple of Jesus. Historically, these churches have included Quakers, Mennonites, Hutterites and other comparatively smaller groups. Their influence has sometimes been very significant in anti-war movements, as well as with the issue of conscientious objection to military service. They have also sometimes made important criticisms of Christian groups who are more comfortable with the dominant culture and its political powers. Needless to say, they often maintain a strong suspicion of civil government and the “power of the sword,” and they do not generally embrace the idea of a “Christian America.”

Black Churches in the U. S. are themselves quite varied. They are Baptist, Pentecostal, African Methodist Episcopal, Presbyterian, and more. Most place a strong emphasis on preaching and the leadership of pastors. They generally are conservative in matters of personal and sexual morality, and they are immersed in the experience of slavery, oppression, and discrimination. This compelling experience works against any simple endorsement of a “Christian America”; among Black Protestants, there is almost always an important and socially critical edge to be taken into account. The civil rights movement in America drew many of its most significant leaders and, most notably Martin Luther King, Jr., from these churches. In recent years, the Black churches have inspired a vocal minority of theologians and ministers to articulate Black liberation theologies and womanist theologies that include powerful criticisms of predominant theologies among white churches and also powerful criticisms of American culture at large.
Mainline (or “Oldline”) Protestant Churches in America include Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Methodists, American Baptists, Lutherans, and others. A number of these groups understand the life of faith to be a matter of responding to God’s universal reign in nature and in history. The basic theological idea that shapes their social ethic, then, is that one should respond faithfully to God in family life, but also in economic and political life. Some years ago, the sociologist, Wade Clark Roof, plotted these churches on a graph to indicate whether they were more or less “liberal” than the American public at large on issues such as civil liberties, racial justice, womens’ rights, and “the new morality.” In general, Methodists were dead center, Presbyterians slightly to the left, Unitarians way to the left, and Lutherans somewhat to the right (1).

Politically speaking, some of these groups have supported not only broad participation in American political life, but also some progressive criticism. Many founded denominational offices for justice and labor during the Social Gospel movement in the 1910s and 1920s, and, in recent decades, some mainline Protestants have questioned American involvement in particular wars and have been highly involved in issues of civil rights, feminism, immigration, and so on.

A Time of Hope
All of these Protestant churches and groups now find themselves in the midst of what for many people may be described as a time of hope. The dynamics are complicated. But we can point to a relatively simple and symbolic fact. The citizens of the United States of America, the world’s most powerful single nation, have elected Barak Hussein Obama President.

Three things about this seem especially significant. First, consider the name. It is the first name of a President-elect of the United States to end in a vowel. At a time when some say we are engaged in a “clash of civilizations” with Islamic peoples, it has unmistakable Muslim overtones. After hundreds of years of slavery and discrimination it is the name of a mixed race man of color who is the son of a black man from Kenya. These are only some of the more obvious ways in which the name of the President-elect may signal a broadening of American attitudes and horizons, perhaps even a move toward the enfranchisement of historically oppressed and marginalized persons and communities as fuller participants in American civil society.

Second, President-elect Obama often speaks publically, as he did in his victory speech at Grant Park in Chicago, of being a president for all Americans. There is nothing unusual about this until we hear him list Hispanic Americans, Black Americans, white Americans, and also (and quite importantly) gay and lesbian Americans. He invokes the idea of a changed society in which there will be greater attention to national service and also better access to education and healthcare. In short, within the U.S., he both symbolizes and promises a more inclusive politics. This politics, as Prof. Fiorentino noted yesterday, has some of its earlier roots in the American adjustment to immigration, and it may also nudge the nation toward a somewhat more social democracy.

Third, President-elect Obama’s opposition to the war in Iraq, his stated willingness to talk with adversaries, and his attention to international contexts (including Europe) during the campaign all contrast with the unilateral style of the George W. Bush administration. Indeed, all of this points to a renewed preference for diplomacy and cooperative and multilateral ventures. One therefore expects, for example, a new level of attention to European allies, as well as to Africa and the United Nations.

Having noted these things, however, we should also remind ourselves that they have not yet been enacted or accomplished. They remain anticipatory and vulnerable. Ours may very well be a time of hope. But, especially in the church, we remember that hope in things that are seen is not hope, and that, if we hope for what we do not see, we also wait for it with patience (cf. Romans 8:24-25). We recognize also that no person, community, or nation brings in the kingdom. All fall short of the kingdom and its glory, and therefore all are subject to criticism in the light of what remains unfulfilled and “not yet.”

If these theological reminders are not enough to keep us from a naïve and false optimism, then consider the severe economic crisis that may very well slow down the new administration or even redirect its attention. The Obama administration will need to work on the U.S. financial system and economy, e.g., Detroit. It will also need to work cooperatively with other governments to stabilize the world financial system. Domestically, this may make it difficult for the new administration to move as quickly as it might on environment, energy, urban planning, and transportation, as well as on health-care and pension reform. Interestingly, the current economic crisis may also reduce immediate pressures on immigration. (From Mexico to the U.S., it is down 42% over the past year.) Internationally, there will be pressures on military budgets as well as pressures on budgets for foreign aid and for humanitarian interventions. The administration’s budgets and energies will also be strained by the wars that it will inherit in Iraq and Afghanistan. So, in general, I agree with Eric Terzuolo, when he says that the economy may impede Obama’s agenda and with Prof. de Giovanni’s insistence that, when estimating the future international stance of the U.S., economic factors and markets must be taken into consideration.

The Witness of the Mainline Churches in a Time of Hope

I want to focus attention on the witness of the mainline Protestant churches in the U.S., but let me also make a few remarks about evangelical Protestants, the peace churches, and the Black churches.

Evangelical Protestants in the U.S. may be entering into an uncertain and confusing time. This is because, recently, they have committed themselves to two things. First, they have remained focused on a conservative “values” agenda, e.g., prayer in public schools, public postings of the 10 Commandments, and the traditional family, that many other people, e.g., Muslims, gays and lesbians, and secular humanists, find exclusionary rather than inclusive. Second, not only Rick Warren but also Jim Wallis, Tony Campolo, and others have tried to broaden the range of issues in which evangelicals are involved toward a somewhat more progressive social agenda (2). Particularly in a time of a progressive politics of inclusion and multilateral diplomacy, however, these different commitments may result in tensions and even splits within the evangelical movement. Perhaps this is part of the significance of a fact noted by Prof. Naso: in the past election, the evangelical vote in favor of the Democratic Party increased by 11%.

The peace churches will find much to support in a stance that emphasizes multilateral ventures and diplomacy. But they are likely to remain dissatisfied by a continued, if also lessened and differently understood, reliance on military power to pursue national, multinational, and humanitarian objectives. Obama’s foreign policy will retain realist elements. Moreover, he will not reject the use of military power, although we may hope that he will use it more judiciously than George W. Bush has.

The Black churches will be heavily invested in the symbolic and actual importance of the Obama presidency for the status and participation of Blacks in American government and society, as well as in many dimensions of the politics of inclusion and progressive initiatives in education and healthcare. For a variety of reasons, including both the nonviolent emphasis of Martin Luther King, Jr. and the fact that Blacks are disproportionately represented in the American military, they will favor a less frequent reliance on military force. However, many Black Protestants may also be uncomfortable with those aspects of the politics of inclusion that have to do with sexual orientation.

What, then, may we say about the witness of the mainline churches during this time of hope? For a variety of reasons, I think that it may be quite significant. For one thing, the greater share of support among white Protestants in the U. S. for the Obama administration’s new direction is likely to come from this group. Moreover, to a significant extent and degree, the theological and ethical stances of the mainline churches may also lend support to a progressive politics of inclusion and multilateral international engagement.

Indirectly, this support may come through inclusive dimensions of mainline church life and liturgical practices. Most of these churches, we recall, invite women to participate in positions of leadership. Most also allow gay and lesbian members, and many currently are debating issues of gay ordination, marriage, and same-sex unions. With respect to participation in worship, most also invite all professing Christians – regardless of their particular church membership – to join in the Lord’s Supper.

Many of these churches now also affirm a theology that centers on the conviction that the true God is the faithful God of grace. This means many things, but one thing it means is that God’s relation to persons and communities is not fundamentally a matter of what people do and believe, but of God’s faithfulness and grace. This conviction forms the basis of a good hope for all and for the conviction that, in relation to God, all persons have worth. When we turn to missions, it therefore leads to a very different stance than those taken up by many evangelicals. Indeed, for many mainline Protestants the point of missions is not simply or perhaps even primarily to convert people to Christianity but to witness to the gospel of the God of grace in word and in deed(3). This also accords with a view of other faith communities, not as competitors and certainly not as evil, but as companions in our mutual religious quest to understand God and ourselves more truly(4). We should note too that, in its appreciation of the human quest for God, this stance also differs from exclusionary secularist dismissals of religious persons and communities, e.g., the difficulties experienced by Muslims in some secularist Western societies. In short, there are good reasons why at least some mainline Protestants may say no to Christian triumphalism, yes to secular society, and no to closed and anti-religious secularisms.

There are also respects in which some mainline Protestants may be led to support the progressive politics of inclusion and multilateral engagement directly. For one thing, the mainline churches have a history of supporting the separation of church and state. Thus, whereas evangelical Protestants in America sometimes favor the establishment of Christian forms of prayer in public schools, or the posting of the 10 Commandments there, mainline Protestants often do not. This really is a part of a larger willingness to envision a religiously pluralistic American society. I believe that the vision of the U.S. as a religiously plural society can be expanded to embrace Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, and more, and I also believe that, if this is to happen, the support of mainline Protestants may be critically important. Relying on the conviction that, in relation to the faithful God of grace, all have worth, mainline Protestants also have the theological resources to view immigration issues through the lens of the biblical injunction to do justice to the stranger within your gates.

Again, many mainline churches bear theological traditions that distinguish rather than simply equate God and country and that sometimes have supported important criticisms of the nation and its practices. And this last point leads us to an important question. Can American Protestants affirm the Puritan- and also Enlightenment- and immigrant-inspired calling of America as a society of democratic freedom and responsibility, without furnishing a theological justification for American exceptionalism? Can Americans affirm a calling for their nation as a beacon for democratic freedom without simply embracing a gross American imperialism? Can they affirm a calling for their nation as one, and perhaps a very prominent and powerful one, among many other nations in a multilateral world? I believe that the answer to this question is yes, but I should also like to say that there are spiritual dimensions to such an affirmation, and that the mainline churches have the theological resources to address these dimensions.

We should note too that there are important respects in which the witness of the mainline churches may criticize the tendencies of some American progressives in the years ahead.

Reinhold Niebuhr once claimed that sin as sloth, or under-participating in responsibilities, and as pride, or overreaching, historically have taken certain forms with respect to the United States and its picture of itself in the world. Niebuhr said that, for Americans, sloth often equals isolationism, or the denial and rejection of international connections and responsibilities. (This is a by-product of having been separated from the world’s great powers by the seas.) He also claimed that, for Americans, pride often equates with moralism, or the belief that American power and leadership are the result of superior American virtue and righteousness. And, of course, for America, as for any other powerful nation, pride may also support unilateralism or the tendency to rely on one’s own power apart from cooperation and compromise with others in order to achieve objectives that are in one’s interest alone(5).

During the Bush administration, American sloth and pride have sometimes taken distinctively conservative forms. Sloth was closely connected with the stance of some conservative Americans (although not the stance of George W. Bush himself) on immigration. It was manifest in an unwillingness to take any responsibility for economic conditions in Mexico and elsewhere that shape patterns of immigration, and an attempt to separate the U.S. from the rest of the world by building both a literal and a figurative wall around it. Pride came to expression in a “cowboy” approach to international relations, a virtually unilateral intervention in Iraq, a unilateral (and poor) decision to build a missile shield in Poland, a cynical manipulation of the United Nations, and an attempt to say that international and other laws do not apply to American troops and to American treatment of detainees at Guantanamo Bay and elsewhere. In general, pride came to expression in an over-confidence in American power, an unwillingness to recognize that the “lone superpower” or “indispensable nation” is not the only power and therefore that it needs to cooperate with other powers both great and small. It also came to expression in the rejection of any effort to understand how American and Western behavior may have contributed to difficult circumstances in the Middle East and also to the ire of some Muslim populations.

How might tendencies to sloth and pride manifest themselves among progressives in an era of hope characterized by a politics of inclusion and multilateralism? Well, for one thing, sloth might come to expression in isolationism as the moralistic withdrawal of progressives from any responsibilities that involve moral ambiguities, or isolationism as an attempt to avoid all moral discomfort and criticism. This might support a hurried withdrawal from Iraq without attention to long-term social and political structures as well as long-term consequences. It might also take the form of advocating a radical cut in military spending due to moral discomfort at the exercise of military power and regardless of any practical interpretation of international challenges, circumstances, and needs, e.g., terrorism, failed states and possible humanitarian interventions.

Pride might join hands with such a withdrawal from moral ambiguity. It might manifest itself as pride in the moral righteousness of progressive American politics. This might be connected, in turn, with a naively optimistic faith in the motives of nations and coalitions of nations when they engage in multilateral humanitarian military interventions and also multilateral economic agreements. It might even result in a new willingness to engage in unilateral actions for humanitarian purposes. In addition, some progressives may come to believe that anyone who tries to support and develop non-protectionist markets, industries, business and finance is morally bankrupt when compared to the superior virtue of progressive ideals. This prideful, moralistic, and naïve refusal to appreciate the value of producing wealth might be joined, for example, with a belief that anyone who wants to regulate immigration in almost any fashion at all is morally deficient.

And, finally, the big item: hubris may emerge among progressives just as it did among conservatives. Progressives may come to believe, for example, that because their policies and ideas about healthcare, the environment, world community and so on, are, in their own judgment, morally superior, these policies and ideas will succeed regardless of economic implications and conditions. If so, then they will become just as naively ideological or idealist as the neo-conservatives were who believed that they could move from ideas and ideals, such as exporting democratic capitalism, to smooth and untroubled implementations almost regardless of circumstances. Yesterday, someone here observed that Bush is the most (Woodrow) Wilsonian of presidents. I take this to mean that he has been one of the most idealistic about bringing democracy to the world. And, again, I agree with the realistic temper of Prof. de Giovanni’s remarks, as well as his important statement that the current economic crisis has several faces and that it may alter the American focus in international matters.

The World’s Witness on Behalf of the Gospel
Let me close with one further point. When we talk about churches and politics, it is almost never enough only to discuss the witness of the churches; it is often also necessary to mention the strange testimony of the world on behalf of the Gospel. I say strange because, so often, we think of witnessing to the Gospel as something that the churches do. But it is also possible for the world to witness to the Gospel and to do so even over against the churches.

It has happened before. Diverse communities and groups in the world have sometimes and quite justifiably criticized partial loyalties, visions, practices, and prejudices that have captivated and corrupted the church. I think, for example, of Enlightenment criticisms of theological orthodoxy for obstructing free inquiry and scientific investigations that helped to pressure some churches to adopt more open postures. I think of churches in America and elsewhere that relinquished the ideal of a state church in favor of a more tolerant politics of religious diversity only when they found that they themselves would not be the favored state church. Again, we recall what it took to change the position of many churches in America on the issue of slavery. More recently, one thinks of Protestant churches that finally altered long-standing traditions which excluded women from ordained leadership. These changes accorded with the Gospel of grace and, in each instance, they were made, at least partly, in response to broader cultural, social, and political pressures and currents. That is, they were partly the result of the world’s witness on behalf of the Gospel and the God of grace against the church.

Perhaps the rhetoric and the politics of inclusion in this time of hope will inspire a new American cultural climate. And, if it does, then perhaps the new climate will press often reluctant Protestant churches and groups finally to take some decisive steps. In our own place and time, for example, there really is no place for a Christian exceptionalism that continues to regard all other faiths as false and even pernicious. In fact, such a stance can only have the most highly destructive consequences in a pluralist society of Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, and others, and it also works against whatever fragile prospects we may have for a more stable and responsible community of nations. We may therefore hope that a more inclusive American cultural climate will put pressure on some evangelical and conservative groups to change their understandings of Christian faith and world religions.

But perhaps also in this time of hope, a more progressive American culture will push mainline Protestants to clarify and to change some of the more destructive positions they sometimes take. In any case, I believe that my own church (the Presbyterian Church in the USA) would be helped by some increased cultural pressure on the question of sexual orientation. I think that, in this respect, it is not likely to embody more adequately the Gospel bias toward inclusion apart from some additional testimony of the world against the church. And so, among other things during this time of hope, I hope that the world’s strange witness will help to make my own church more faithful. I hope that, in the providence of God, it will help us to avoid the studied irrelevance we too often embrace, and I hope that it will drive us toward a more profound appreciation for the Gospel of grace.

Postscript:
During the conference at Ecumene, Pastor Massimo Aquilante asked me to respond to an important question. Is the U.S. still a good laboratory or even model for a Protestant society today?

My answer was yes, no, and maybe.

Yes, we might say, the U.S. is a good laboratory and even a good model for a Protestant society due to the respect for religious freedom, diversity, and freedom of conscience that is a part of its Puritan and Protestant beginnings. Early in American history, religious freedom became important because, especially in North America, Protestantism was always plural. By definition, Protestantism means that there is no single visible Christian church, no generic Christianity, and this was always true in American colonies such as Virginia. So, in part, as I have said, Protestant plurality in America made at least some degree of religious freedom a practical necessity.

In addition, however, Roger Williams, William Penn, and some others argued for religious freedom and toleration on religious and theological grounds. Williams argued, for example, that Puritans should allow Jews, Muslims, and others to practice their faith freely because Puritans had been persecuted in England and so, in accord with the Golden Rule, they should treat others as they themselves wish to be treated. The influential Massachusetts minister, John Cotton, argued against Williams, saying that, since all persons are sinners and are therefore likely to err in matters of faith, the state should enforce true belief. Williams replied that Cotton was right, all persons are indeed sinners and liable to errors. But this, he said, means that those who hold government offices are also sinners liable to err, and therefore should not be trusted either to determine or enforce true beliefs.

No, one might say, the U.S. no longer is a good laboratory or model for a Protestant society because the American experiment has moved far beyond its earlier Protestant and Puritan beginnings. American society today is more radically pluralistic, and so its self-understanding needs to be expanded to include actual possibilities that Penn, Williams, and the rest never faced, including the presence of Mormons as well as of large numbers of Muslim immigrants. So, to find our way as a pluralist society in our current circumstance, one might argue, we should no longer look to an old and tired Protestant heritage.

But we might also say, “Maybe.” Maybe the U.S. can still be a good laboratory for a Protestant-influenced and religiously plural society. Perhaps, in some ways, a positive attitude toward the current, more radical and pronounced pluralism of American society may be both strengthened and understood as an extension and development of a Protestant sensibility. Perhaps, it may even be regarded as a further development of a Protestant theology that, in earlier times, was able to support a multi-Protestant society and then, at mid-twentieth century, a society described by Will Herberg as Protestant – Catholic – Jew(6).

I do, in fact, think that this can be done. But I also think we should remind ourselves that the extension and development of this Protestant sensibility and theology toward an age and society of greater pluralism is not a fact but a task, not a finished accomplishment but a calling, not a once-and-for-all settlement or arrangement but a life. And, it is a task, calling, and life that cannot be fashioned by American Protestants alone or unilaterally, but will require the continued and collaborative work of Protestants in America and elsewhere, including Italy, who together can elaborate and extend a vital theology of religious commitment, freedom, and plurality. May they be graced with the intelligence, compassion, and courage to meet God’s beckoning future with both the creativity and the perseverance that so often characterized their Waldensian, Puritan, and Methodist forebears.


Footnotes:

1. Zade Clark Roof, American Mainline Religion: Its Changing Shape and Future (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1987), pp. 195, 200, 209, 214
2. See especially Jim Wallis, God’s Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the
Left Doesn’t Get It (San Francisco: HarperOne, 2005), 432 pp.
3. See Douglas F. Ottati, Theology for Liberal Presbyterians and Other Endangered
Species (Louisville: Geneva Press, 2006), pp. 49-61.
4. See Douglas F. Ottati, Hopeful Realism: Reclaiming the Poetry of Theology (Cleveland:
Pilgrim Press, 1999), pp. 82-83.
5. Reinhold Niebuhr, “American Power and World Responsibility,” originally published
in Christianity and Crisis (April 5, 1943) and reprinted in Love and Justice: Selections from the Shorter Writings of Reinhold Niebuhr, ed. D. B. Robertson (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1992), pp. 200-206; “Anglo-Saxon Destiny and Responsibility,” originally published in Christianity and Crisis (October 4, 1943) and reprinted in Love and Justice, pp. 183-189.
6. Will Herberg, Protestant – Catholic – Jew: An Essay in American Religious Sociology
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983), 326 pp.

Professor Douglas F. Ottati during his lecture in Ecumene.