What does “evangelical” really mean?
I have learned many things from my students over my three decades of teaching. One of them came from a presentation in my Logic & Critical Thinking class by a student interested in library science. She explained how dictionaries are created. I assumed, of course, that I knew this already: Words have meanings created by some smart guys in the past and dictionaries list those meanings. And they list the words in alphabetical order to make them easy to find. Of course, only a wayward physicist like myself, lost in the jungles of linguistics, could fail to see the inadequacy of such a view.
I learned that making dictionaries is far more subtle. The process starts quite naturally by identifying words that need to go in the dictionary because people are using them. But the next step is identifying people who have mastered the language—English in this case—and then seeing how they use the words. Because language—especially spoken language—is organic, it evolves and one must be vigilant in determining how speakers who reflect the best current usage are actually using the words. In most cases, of course, present and past usages match each other: a tree is still a tree. But, as we know, a gay man is no longer the same thing has a “happy male,” and singing about “donning gay apparel” at Christmas is not as straightforward as it used to. We also seem to be witnessing some evolution in the meaning of the word “sick,” at least among young people. As near as I can tell, there are many things now that can be “sick” without being “ill.” And the term “guys” is becoming gender neutral in the plural among young people.
Because language is so organic, words often develop meanings that run on separate tracks in different communities. The word “theory,” for example, has an exalted status in science as the highest level of theoretical understanding, arrived at only after decades of careful observation as in “quantum theory” or the “theory of evolution.” On Main Street, however, theory means “guess” as in “my theory is that Janet Jackson’s wardrobe malfunction was no accident.” Sometimes different academic disciplines use words in quite incompatible ways. We have something called “pair creation” in particle physics, which has no overlap with the doctrine of creation articulated by Christian theology. Often when I have given science-and-religion talks I have been accosted by an irritated theologian informing me that I did not know what “creation” meant.
I offer this linguistic detour as a prelude to my own comments about the meaning of “evangelical.”
To be honest, I struggle with the label evangelical and have decided that I don’t like it any more, for several reasons. It seems to me that evangelicalism, as a label to distinguish one group of Christians from another has been moving closer to “fundamentalist.” Increasingly I have found strong opposition to, say, evolution, from evangelicals, when that is supposed to be a fundamentalist issue. Evangelical no longer distinguishes Christians from fundamentalism, as it once did. In this sense I believe that the theological center of gravity for evangelicalism has moved to the “right,” and I find few evangelicals willing to explain how they differ from fundamentalists. And, since I am being honest, I should acknowledge that I have also moved to the “left.”
More seriously however, the label “evangelical” has become both unhelpful and inaccurate for me as I have found myself in increasingly secular conversations. In the fall, to take one example, I was at Ohio State for an NPR program with Neal Conin and Michael Shermer, the editor of Skeptic magazine. I cringed at being described as “evangelical” in front of that largely secular audience, because I knew what that word means to that group. And here I return to the problem of the dictionary.
The literate NPR crowd listens to Rachel Maddow and Chris Matthews. They read Paul Krugman, Michael Shermer, and Nicholas Kristoff. They read Richard Dawkins with approval. These individuals are all literate thought leaders whose usage of words would be considered normative for developing dictionaries. As a consequence, that audience is likely to associate “evangelical” with most of the following:
1) Anti-science, including the embrace of creationism and intelligent design.
2) Denial of global warming
3) Voted for George Bush and hostile to Obama.
4) Anti-gay marriage, and anti-gay in general. Probably believes you can “pray away the gay.”
5) Anti-abortion.
6) Hostile to universal healthcare.
7) Hostile to restrictions on guns.
8) Patriarchal.
9) Anti-Muslim.
10) Believe in divinely ordained American exceptionalism.
11) Embracing “Left Behind” theology.
Many evangelicals would reject this list, and many would take offense, noting that theological considerations should have dominated. And they would note—rightly—that there are prominent evangelical exceptions—Jim Wallis, Ron Sider, David Myers.
It seems to me, however, that the public face of evangelicalism has become increasingly more negative and I am, frankly, embarrassed by the label. In the Simpsons parody “Left Below” an unraptured Buddhist laments his belief that all roads leads to heaven and another man asks “Why did I choose to be gay?” In a similar parody on Family Guy, everyone is raptured but Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell, who have this telling exchange:
Robertson: Damn it, Jerry. Why are we the only ones still here?
Falwell: I don’t know. We hated all the right things.
We can certainly have a discussion about the degree to which these portrayals are accurate, even as satire. But there can be no doubt that evangelicals cannot claim to be “known by their love” as Jesus had hoped. My intuition is that a new dictionary that defined “evangelical” in terms of its most common usage in public discourse today would produce an unflattering definition that would alarm most of us.
As someone who takes words seriously—like most of us—I am uncomfortable with a label that carries as much negative baggage today as “evangelical.”
I've not really thought of the word evangelical in contrast with fundamentalist, but to distinguish evangelical denominations from "mainstream" ones. I'm not sure exactly why I have this use of the word in my lexicon. Perhaps others will elucidate.
I've not really thought of the word evangelical in contrast with fundamentalist, but to distinguish evangelical denominations from "mainstream" ones. I'm not sure exactly why I have this use of the word in my lexicon. Perhaps others will elucidate.
I've not really thought of the word evangelical in contrast with fundamentalist, but to distinguish evangelical denominations from "mainstream" ones. I'm not sure exactly why I have this use of the word in my lexicon. Perhaps others will elucidate.
Karl: I appreciate these remarks. They pick up some things I left unsaid in my earlier piece and anticipate some of what I'll do in June. The distinctions between what "evangelical" means theologically and historically and how it's interpreted sociologically in the contemporary setting is something that require more inquiry. Certainly, the Barna group's work on estranged religious young people resonates with the bullet points you list. If that's what evangelicalism has come to mean, there are challenges to restoring meaningful categories.
Second, the conflation of evangelical and fundamentalist is a serious issue (one that I'll address next month). If evangelical has come to mean belief in a set of litmus test positions, then it is fundamentalism (but based on social not theological presuppositions).
Third, what label would we prefer if this one is broken? I know a number of folks who like the phrase "Christ-follower" but that really requires a lot of unpacking to have broad meaning.
On the other hand, Ned Flanders has survived as an alternative to the evangelical stereotype for two decades. Maybe there is some hope after all.
Karl: I appreciate these remarks. They pick up some things I left unsaid in my earlier piece and anticipate some of what I'll do in June. The distinctions between what "evangelical" means theologically and historically and how it's interpreted sociologically in the contemporary setting is something that require more inquiry. Certainly, the Barna group's work on estranged religious young people resonates with the bullet points you list. If that's what evangelicalism has come to mean, there are challenges to restoring meaningful categories.
Second, the conflation of evangelical and fundamentalist is a serious issue (one that I'll address next month). If evangelical has come to mean belief in a set of litmus test positions, then it is fundamentalism (but based on social not theological presuppositions).
Third, what label would we prefer if this one is broken? I know a number of folks who like the phrase "Christ-follower" but that really requires a lot of unpacking to have broad meaning.
On the other hand, Ned Flanders has survived as an alternative to the evangelical stereotype for two decades. Maybe there is some hope after all.
Karl: I appreciate these remarks. They pick up some things I left unsaid in my earlier piece and anticipate some of what I'll do in June. The distinctions between what "evangelical" means theologically and historically and how it's interpreted sociologically in the contemporary setting is something that require more inquiry. Certainly, the Barna group's work on estranged religious young people resonates with the bullet points you list. If that's what evangelicalism has come to mean, there are challenges to restoring meaningful categories.
Second, the conflation of evangelical and fundamentalist is a serious issue (one that I'll address next month). If evangelical has come to mean belief in a set of litmus test positions, then it is fundamentalism (but based on social not theological presuppositions).
Third, what label would we prefer if this one is broken? I know a number of folks who like the phrase "Christ-follower" but that really requires a lot of unpacking to have broad meaning.
On the other hand, Ned Flanders has survived as an alternative to the evangelical stereotype for two decades. Maybe there is some hope after all.
I don't have a label, per se. If I were in charge, I would like to see the reformation undone and Christianity restored to unity. But this would require a level of tolerance of diversity that is unimaginable in today's world.
I don't have a label, per se. If I were in charge, I would like to see the reformation undone and Christianity restored to unity. But this would require a level of tolerance of diversity that is unimaginable in today's world.
I don't have a label, per se. If I were in charge, I would like to see the reformation undone and Christianity restored to unity. But this would require a level of tolerance of diversity that is unimaginable in today's world.
You could add to that list a belief that a faith intention or experience and alignment with a certain category of churches (more so now than actual theological understanding) is a solid basis for certainty about who is "saved" and who isn't. From this comes a host of bigoted and prejudicial assumptions as well as the presumption that one's own limited skills, knowledge and abilities are automagically transformed by faith so that one has nothing to learn from the "lost" with whom even pragmatic political compromises are to be rejected.
These attitudes are imposed through much "Christian education" on the religious right by means of fear and the pressure to conform. This has a crippling effect on intellectual curiosity and the openness of spirit a true and sincere faith requires. There can be such fear and focus placed on sin, death, and the devil that young people are never able to develop a mature capacity to think and act responsibly in freedom — to choose the right because it is good and preferable rather than to react against the wrong because they have been taught to fear it. This fails even when it succeeds, and it often fails simply because it is repression that stokes curiosity, desire, and contrarian impulses.
This was an interesting comment:
"I would like to see the reformation undone and Christianity restored to unity. But this would require a level of tolerance of diversity that is unimaginable in today's world."
Of whom would this tolerance be required? What are you imagining when you say this?
For myself, I think of the joint declaration on justification that put to rest Luther's primary theological impetus for breaking with Rome — at least for all those who cared enough about the issue and ecumenism to be engaged in the process. Isn't that something?
I also think of the postconciliar developments in the Catholic Church and especially under the last two popes — including their views on faith, reason, and intellectual/academic community. What has been accomplished there is a wonderful affirmation of charitable, principled, engaged openness to diversity, difference, and disagreement within the church and beyond. It is the highest point for the church in the modern era and perhaps in the history — a recognizable and historically continuous Christian standpoint that is not a reaction or concession to the political and economic primacy of the modern state. It is a truly catholic/universal position that even Protestants like Barth and Bonhoeffer contributed to and would probably recognize themselves as an enormous advance.
Of course when it comes down to concrete examples of churches, communities, and believers you find much that is in bad shape. It is an odd, troubling, but good situation in the long view — some old, fundamental issues have been cleared up at key institutional and doctrinal levels, but within the churches and the lives of the faithful there is an enormous amount of work to be done.
You could add to that list a belief that a faith intention or experience and alignment with a certain category of churches (more so now than actual theological understanding) is a solid basis for certainty about who is "saved" and who isn't. From this comes a host of bigoted and prejudicial assumptions as well as the presumption that one's own limited skills, knowledge and abilities are automagically transformed by faith so that one has nothing to learn from the "lost" with whom even pragmatic political compromises are to be rejected.
These attitudes are imposed through much "Christian education" on the religious right by means of fear and the pressure to conform. This has a crippling effect on intellectual curiosity and the openness of spirit a true and sincere faith requires. There can be such fear and focus placed on sin, death, and the devil that young people are never able to develop a mature capacity to think and act responsibly in freedom — to choose the right because it is good and preferable rather than to react against the wrong because they have been taught to fear it. This fails even when it succeeds, and it often fails simply because it is repression that stokes curiosity, desire, and contrarian impulses.
This was an interesting comment:
"I would like to see the reformation undone and Christianity restored to unity. But this would require a level of tolerance of diversity that is unimaginable in today's world."
Of whom would this tolerance be required? What are you imagining when you say this?
For myself, I think of the joint declaration on justification that put to rest Luther's primary theological impetus for breaking with Rome — at least for all those who cared enough about the issue and ecumenism to be engaged in the process. Isn't that something?
I also think of the postconciliar developments in the Catholic Church and especially under the last two popes — including their views on faith, reason, and intellectual/academic community. What has been accomplished there is a wonderful affirmation of charitable, principled, engaged openness to diversity, difference, and disagreement within the church and beyond. It is the highest point for the church in the modern era and perhaps in the history — a recognizable and historically continuous Christian standpoint that is not a reaction or concession to the political and economic primacy of the modern state. It is a truly catholic/universal position that even Protestants like Barth and Bonhoeffer contributed to and would probably recognize themselves as an enormous advance.
Of course when it comes down to concrete examples of churches, communities, and believers you find much that is in bad shape. It is an odd, troubling, but good situation in the long view — some old, fundamental issues have been cleared up at key institutional and doctrinal levels, but within the churches and the lives of the faithful there is an enormous amount of work to be done.
You could add to that list a belief that a faith intention or experience and alignment with a certain category of churches (more so now than actual theological understanding) is a solid basis for certainty about who is "saved" and who isn't. From this comes a host of bigoted and prejudicial assumptions as well as the presumption that one's own limited skills, knowledge and abilities are automagically transformed by faith so that one has nothing to learn from the "lost" with whom even pragmatic political compromises are to be rejected.
These attitudes are imposed through much "Christian education" on the religious right by means of fear and the pressure to conform. This has a crippling effect on intellectual curiosity and the openness of spirit a true and sincere faith requires. There can be such fear and focus placed on sin, death, and the devil that young people are never able to develop a mature capacity to think and act responsibly in freedom — to choose the right because it is good and preferable rather than to react against the wrong because they have been taught to fear it. This fails even when it succeeds, and it often fails simply because it is repression that stokes curiosity, desire, and contrarian impulses.
This was an interesting comment:
"I would like to see the reformation undone and Christianity restored to unity. But this would require a level of tolerance of diversity that is unimaginable in today's world."
Of whom would this tolerance be required? What are you imagining when you say this?
For myself, I think of the joint declaration on justification that put to rest Luther's primary theological impetus for breaking with Rome — at least for all those who cared enough about the issue and ecumenism to be engaged in the process. Isn't that something?
I also think of the postconciliar developments in the Catholic Church and especially under the last two popes — including their views on faith, reason, and intellectual/academic community. What has been accomplished there is a wonderful affirmation of charitable, principled, engaged openness to diversity, difference, and disagreement within the church and beyond. It is the highest point for the church in the modern era and perhaps in the history — a recognizable and historically continuous Christian standpoint that is not a reaction or concession to the political and economic primacy of the modern state. It is a truly catholic/universal position that even Protestants like Barth and Bonhoeffer contributed to and would probably recognize themselves as an enormous advance.
Of course when it comes down to concrete examples of churches, communities, and believers you find much that is in bad shape. It is an odd, troubling, but good situation in the long view — some old, fundamental issues have been cleared up at key institutional and doctrinal levels, but within the churches and the lives of the faithful there is an enormous amount of work to be done.