The Parable Of The Good American
Acts of Compassion: Caring for Others and Helping Ourselves,by Robert Wuthnow (Princeton University Press, viii + 334 pp.; $24.95, hardcover). Reviewed by James A. Mathisen, associate professor of sociology, Wheaton College, Wheaton, Illinois.
Nearly 20 years ago when first teaching undergraduate social psychology, I encountered the puzzling literature on altruism—also called prosocial behavior and Good Samaritanism. This was in the aftermath of the murder of Kitty Genovese, the woman who died although 38 people heard her screams for help but declined to intervene. Academics and people on the street were asking, When and why do people get involved? What really constitutes doing good? And is there anything we can do as a society to promote compassion? I wish I had had Robert Wuthnow’s new book, Acts of Compassion, back then.
Sociologists have been aware of Wuthnow since the early 1970s; with such books as Meaning and Moral Order (1987) and Communities of Discourse (1989), the Princeton University sociologist of culture has leapt to the forefront of his profession. Two of his recent works, The Restructuring of American Religion (1988) and The Struggle for America’s Soul (1989), have increased his name recognition outside sociological circles, being read, reviewed, and debated in many Christian quarters. Most evangelicals will find both Restructuring and an essay in Cross Currents (Summer 1990), entitled “Living the Question: Evangelical Christianity and Critical Thought,” especially beneficial.
Wuthnow’s writing is renowned within sociological discourse for being lucid, jargon-free, and insightful—all characteristics of this newest work.
Along The Road
Given my interest in Good Samaritanism, I could barely resist fast-forwarding to chapter 6, “Along the Road,” in which Wuthnow provides a masterful interpretation of the famous story in the Gospel of Luke. Of over 2,100 Americans surveyed for this book, nearly half said they could tell the story of the Good Samaritan. People who knew the story were twice as likely as others to be involved in charitable activities, and nearly three-fourths of those involved also had experienced a version of the story.
For Wuthnow, the Good Samaritan works for us primarily “because we no longer live in intimate communities.” Thus we see it as “a story about individual virtue” but “fail to see institutional connections with the kind of care that is given.” After sharing historical interpretations, contemporary sermonizing, and the sociological significance of the Good Samaritan account, Wuthnow laments the likelihood that “the import of the Good Samaritan story is bound to diminish … as a result of people not knowing the story.”
In this book, Wuthnow combines the quantitative findings of his Lilly Foundation-supported research with selections from apparently representative conversations with his subjects. In this way he tells the story of how and why Americans act compassionately.
His survey tells us that we manage to hold both individualistic and altruistic values simultaneously. But his conversations inform us that this apparent inconsistency is minimized by mechanisms in our culture and our language. They provide us with a repertoire of stories by which we adeptly combine individualistic virtue with cultural utilitarianism. We then manage to interpret our caring as both normal and deviant, so that we can account for our acts as both ordinary and special—but never too much of either.
In another chapter, Wuthnow looks carefully at the role of religion as a basis of compassion. Following his other work, he categorizes Christians as liberals or conservatives across denominations, rather than by stereotyping groups. He finds that conservatives differ from liberals in terms of the underlying values and motives for their charitable behavior. Having a deep faith, believing that one’s faith teaches kindness and caring, and an overall commitment to giving and sacrifice are all distinguishing characteristics of religious conservatives’ motivation for compassion. By contrast, liberals are less compelled by religious beliefs than by belief in the value of caring as a means to make themselves stronger and feel good.
The Grand Gift Exchange
When all is said and done, why are we compassionate? My appetite was thoroughly whetted for the final chapter, which turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. Wuthnow switches motifs, offering a confusing role play of several interpretations. We are not compassionate because it is an intrinsic, absolute value; the modern world is too relativistic for that to work. We are not compassionate out of a utilitarian sense that acts of compassion somehow will benefit larger numbers of people, including ourselves; we believe in individual autonomy too much for that to fit. In the end, Wuthnow argues for a sophisticated version of “what goes around comes around.” Thus we are compassionate because, like one grand gift exchange, individual acts set in motion “ripples” that commit all of us to larger networks than we otherwise would have access to.
Compassion also works symbolically to attach ourselves both to other individuals and to the larger human community. Compassion turns out, not surprisingly, to be understood best in terms of a sociological, rather than psychological or economic, explanation. Acting compassionately through informal or formal means allows us to “contribute in a small way to the vision and reality of a good society.”
Is Wuthnow correct? Who can say conclusively? But he has made a provocative and stimulating case.
Religious Report Card
What Americans Believe,by George Barna (Regal Books, 311 pp.; $16.99, paper). Reviewed by Steve Rabey, religion editor for the Colorado Springs Gazette Telegraph.
Pastors and Christian leaders often base their actions on assumptions about the beliefs of their prospective audiences. With the publication of What Americans Believe, Christian leaders can close the gap between hunches and social-scientific facts.
Based on extensive telephone surveys with a thousand people conducted early in 1991, What Americans Believe provides a focused snapshot of the desires, fears, and philosophical contradictions of the American population. The process will be repeated annually.
The picture that emerges reveals a people who consider themselves Godfearing and even “Christian” but who disagree about what being Christian means and even dismiss some of the faith’s foundational tenets. Among the generalizations derived from the survey’s findings are these:
• Americans are interested in religion, but for many, religion is not considered central to what life is all about;
• The family is making a comeback, with people wanting to set aside more time for family commitments;
• Alternative world views to Christianity are growing in popularity, and much of what churches teach is considered false or nonessential;
• People are defining success less in terms of money and things and more in terms of intangible goals;
• Local churches “face a tenuous future” in an increasing pluralistic and secular environment.
Some of the findings that support these conclusions include the following:
• Sixty-six percent of the population agree “America is a Christian nation.”
• Eighty-three percent agree that “People are basically good.”
• Sixty percent agree that “the devil, or Satan, is not a living being but is a symbol of evil.” (Forty-seven percent of evangelicals agree.)
• Sixty-four percent of those surveyed agree that “Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, and others all pray to the same God, even though they use different names for that God.” (Forty-six percent of evangelicals agree.)
Detailed tables also show how the churched and unchurched view the local church; tell what percentage of Christians have consumed Christian television, radio, magazines, books, and videos during the past year; and reveal how often—or how seldom—Christians read the Bible. (Forty-two percent of Christians said they don’t read the Bible once in any given week.)
One of the book’s most startling findings is the large percentage of respondents who agree with the statement: “There is no such thing as absolute truth; different people can define truth in conflicting ways and still be correct.” A table accompanies this question—and all others—which breaks down respondents according to age, gender, race, household income, educational level, region, and denominational affiliation. While Catholics and mainline Protestants are more likely to agree with the statement than evangelicals, an alarming 53 percent of evangelicals also agree that there is no such thing as absolute truth. Such findings surely contradict many a Christian leader’s assumptions about his audience, just as they must strike fear into the heart of any pastor who plans on basing next Sunday’s sermon on an assumed shared belief that there are such things as right and wrong.
Other findings reveal that while large numbers of Christians attend church regularly, others do not, and increasing numbers of believers are finding it difficult to carve time out of their busy schedules for getting more deeply involved in the life of the church.
The findings in What Americans Believe may be shocking to some, but they are consistent with what George Barna has been saying and writing for years. Taken as a report card on the effectiveness of Christian institutions in instructing their followers in the basics of the faith, the book’s findings are not always comforting. But they should enable those who care to get a more accurate reading of the heartbeat of America’s unreached or only partially reached people.
