Books
Review

The Quiet Faith Behind Little House on the Prairie

How a sincere but reserved Christianity influenced the life and literature of Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Laura Ingalls Wilder in front of coverd wagons and a church door
Christianity Today November 20, 2024
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: WikiMedia Commons

In A Prairie Faith: The Religious Life of Laura Ingalls Wilder, historian John Fry invites readers into a detailed exploration of the celebrated author of the Little House on the Prairie series. His goal is evaluating the nature of her Christian faith—a significant and humbling task for any scholar.

While other Wilder biographers have either ignored this topic or simply assumed that she wrote from a Christian perspective, Fry aims to address the question of Wilder’s faith in all its complexity. As historian Mark Noll points out in his foreword, the findings in this book “can supplement, modify, or, in some cases, overthrow what everyone thought they knew about an author whose books are still much read and, by many, much loved.” Thus, “fans of the Little House books eager to enlist the author for ‘their team’ may be disappointed with Fry’s persuasive conclusion.”

John E. Miller, an earlier biographer who wrote about Wilder in a series of books, concluded that faith was central to her life and outlook. By contrast, Fry argues “that while Christianity was important to Laura’s life, it was not central.”


In this multifaceted analysis, Fry explores several questions, including the following: What sort of Christian was Wilder, who regularly attended church but never joined any as a member? How did her parents influence her faith journey? What should we make of the affiliation she and her husband, Almanzo, shared with Freemasonry? And how can we square her Christian belief with demeaning references to Native Americans and African Americans in the Little House series?

As Fry evaluates possible answers, he paints a vivid portrait of the American frontier as it changed over the course of Wilder’s lifetime, which spanned the late 19th century and the first half of the 20th century. Readers learn about her experiences of traveling through the Midwest in covered wagons, living amid what Fry calls the “Christian landscape” of the region’s small towns, and even discovering the emerging world of air travel.

Fry organizes the book chronologically, devoting detailed attention to each successive Little House book. Beyond the narrative itself, he includes a wealth of helpful material, including regional maps and an appendix on pastors serving in the churches of Mansfield, Missouri, where Wilder began her writing career and lived for most of her adult life.

Fry’s afterword, which describes his own journey in studying Wilder’s life and thought, is interesting in its own right. Having grown up on a farm in Western Pennsylvania, Fry has a deep affinity with and commitment to studying its history. One cannot help thinking that this background leaves Fry ideally suited to offer insights that scholars in more urban contexts might neglect.

On the book’s central matter, categorizing Wilder’s faith, Fry’s scholarship aims to help readers guard against what he describes as the “tempt[ation]” common in contemporary America (and beyond, I might add) “to make assumptions about other people’s spirituality.” There are certain histories, he observes, that tend to classify believers of Wilder’s era as either fundamentalist or modernist, in keeping with the dominant theological fault line of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. But Wilder, he argues, cannot be easily placed into either camp. Rather, he regards her faith as “conventional across a great range of moderate Protestantism” and “entirely typical for many Protestants, especially in rural areas.”

Wilder’s parents raised her on morals informed by biblical principles, respect for the Bible, quiet observances of the Lord’s Day, and nightly prayers. She memorized Scripture, regularly went to church when not traveling, and attended Sunday school with Almanzo even when there were no preaching services, which weren’t always weekly occurrences in rural communities. As a teenager she wrote poetry that shows evidence of having internalized the Christian faith, and prayer was important to her in adulthood. Inside her Bible she kept a handwritten list of verses, copied from a 1943 issue of the Saturday Evening Post, on facing life’s most difficult moments.

In weighing the evidence for Wilder’s personal faith, Fry underscores the overlap between her brand of Christianity and mere stoicism. As he writes, both Laura and Almanzo devoted themselves to the virtues of “frugality and hard work.” The Little House novels depict the hardships endured by nearly all rural Midwesterners in the late 19th century, but they focus more on themes of self-reliance than on God’s role in permitting the hardships or offering deliverance from them.

Fry notes that Wilder’s representation of Christianity “is oriented toward God’s rules for behavior and right living, not the gospel of God’s free offer of salvation in Jesus Christ.” In a 1936 talk, she listed the values that she hoped her books would convey to children: “courage, self reliance, independence, integrity and helpfulness.” As Fry emphasizes, there is no mention here of the church or the Christian faith.

Wilder was typically reserved in how she expressed her faith. She was not comfortable with others’ public testimonies of their experiences with God. In her words, “It someway offended my sense of privacy. It seemed to me that the things between one and God should be between him and God like loving ones [sic] mother.”

By and large, Fry suggests, Wilder “nurtured [her] faith by what Reformed Christians call the ordinary means of grace: reading God’s Word, praying, and attending worship.” But her attendance wasn’t always consistent. It is noteworthy that Laura and Almanzo chose to attend the Methodist Episcopal Church not only because she disliked the Presbyterian doctrine of predestination but also because she disdained any expectation of strict Sunday observances. And Fry makes a noteworthy comparison of Laura’s limited church involvement with the full-on commitment of her Baptist friend Neta Seal.

Another eye-opening theme is Laura and Almanzo’s Freemason roots. Fry traces the Ingalls family’s lifelong involvement, observing that while Laura’s parents were church members as well as Masons, Almanzo and Laura never held church membership anywhere. Almanzo was a master Mason until his death, and until the 1930s, Laura was a leader in the Order of the Eastern Star, a Masonic auxiliary organization.

As Fry notes, however, Masonic membership was common for residents of small towns in the late 19th century. He observes, too, that leadership positions were not available to women in the Methodist Episcopal church that the Wilders attended. All this suggests that Wilder probably regarded her Masonic work not as incompatible with church involvement but as part of her civic duty.


Fry brings a thoughtful and nuanced perspective to critical controversies surrounding Wilder’s representations of Native and African Americans in her books. While concluding that some of her portraits are indefensible, he provides context.

In the Little House books, white settlers sometimes refer to members of the Osage Nation as “savages.” But the book’s settlers lived with a realistic fear of being massacred, given real-life memories of episodes like the 1862 Dakota War, when tensions with the federal government and newly arriving settlers precipitated a wave of killings. As Fry concludes, “there are no obvious winners and losers” in Little House on the Prairie. There is “no simple story line leading to the wilderness being tamed by the farmer or American Indians being driven away by whites. At the end of the book, in fact, both the Indians and the Ingallses have left their homes behind.”

Another book in the series, Little Town on the Prairie, shocks modern consciences by including a blackface minstrel show. Fry notes, however, that such forms of entertainment were regrettably popular during the period in which the story was set. Moreover, he finds no evidence that Wilder harbored any personal prejudice toward Black Americans.

In Fry’s judgment, the books’ depictions of the Native American and Black characters “show that Laura did not understand the Bible’s injunctions to love one’s neighbor in the same way that we do today.” Ultimately, however, he writes not in condemnation for his subject but in the “hope that having a greater understanding of Wilder’s actual life and beliefs will enable us to love her and others of our neighbors who lived in the past better.” In this, he has amply succeeded, producing a highly readable account of great value to scholars and Little House fans alike.

Monika B. Hilder is professor of English at Trinity Western University, where she is also codirector of the Inklings Institute of Canada. She is the author of Surprised by the Feminine: A Rereading of C. S. Lewis and Gender and Letters to Annie: A Grandmother’s Dreams of Fairy Tale Princesses, Princes, & Happily Ever After.

Ideas

Post-Election Gloating and Meltdowns Reveal Our Hopes and Fears

Contributor

Dealing with emotions across political differences is the next opportunity for the church to work through division.

An American flag in shadow and light
Christianity Today November 20, 2024
Bloomberg Creative / Getty

“There are a lot of big feelings in this room,” a friend whispered to me a couple of days after the election as the women of our church gathered for our weekly Bible study. We were there to continue our study of Ecclesiastes, but most of us were less focused on the Bible than we were on the tense mood in the room. At our “purple” church, no single emotional reaction dominated—the women filing into pews that morning were relieved, distressed, comforted, grieved.

Many churches like ours spent the lead-up to the election thinking about how to disagree well, how to seek unity amid diversity of opinion, and how to keep our focus on Christ without diminishing the importance of loving our neighbors through politics. But now that the election is over, churches—and families, friends, and communities—are grappling with a new question: “How do we handle our conflicting emotional responses?”

Unlike other national events—whether tragedies like school shootings or celebrations like Olympic victories—elections feel significant to everyone in very different ways. Some people walked into their churches the Sunday after the election with a sense of relief, even joy. Others walked into church with lingering dread or grief.

While the church may be comfortable responding to different emotions—after all, we are called to rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn (Rom. 12:15)—this time, we are responding differently to the same event. We don’t only misunderstand each other’s emotional responses—we recoil at them. Before the election, we may have thought, How could you possibly think that? Now, we’re confronted with another challenging question: “How could you possibly feel that way?”

This new question is, in some ways, more volatile. We aren’t talking about different policy positions, political philosophies, or candidate preferences. We’re talking about something more visceral: how we feel about the state of our country, the well-being of our communities, and the kind of life we want to live. However, this shift to feelings may be exactly what we need to navigate the post-election season with greater faithfulness. 

The 2024 election season, like every other election season, was never primarily about facts or data or policy positions. Deeper emotions, stories, and claims on our identity and sense of community were always humming under the surface of our political disagreements. Anyone who has ever gotten into a political argument with a friend or family member knows this. You may start out by explaining why you support a policy or prefer a candidate, but things only get heated when deeper differences arise: when your loyalties conflict, when your loves diverge, when your sense of identity is threatened.

Our policy differences are important, but they seem intractable in part because they are fueled by powerful stories about what it means to be human, what kinds of communities we want to live in, what is ultimately right and true. We are constantly formed by these stories, often without realizing it. When these stories clash, however, they reveal themselves as formative drivers of much of our political life.

During the 2020 election, I spent many hours in conversation with people at my church who disagreed with me politically. As one conversation moved from economic policy into underlying political philosophy, it got more emotionally charged. It was clear that the difference in opinion between us was masking something deeper.

Finally, the woman burst out, “Are you calling my dad a liar?” We disagreed about what economic policies would serve our country best. And underneath that policy difference was a difference in political philosophy. But neither of those differences were driving the emotion of the conversation. The real issue was about family loyalty, a threatened sense of personal righteousness, and conflicting ideas about what flourishing communities look like.

This focus on our emotional responses also has the potential to open up new conversations about our political differences. When we start by addressing the deeper feelings people have about politics—their fear, desire, anger, love—we resist the temptation to objectify our political opponents. We cannot boil them down to one belief or position; we must take them as whole people. Their political positions do not entirely define them, and they came to those positions through a complicated personal history: past pains and joys, family dynamics, and media consumption habits.

I have been speaking to groups of Christians about faith and politics for three election cycles now, and the single most helpful thing I have learned in the hundreds of conversations I have had is one question. When a political conversation gets heated or thorny, I pause and ask, “This seems important to you. Can you tell me more about why?” The vast majority of the time, the other person does not respond with policy details. They say something like “My dad taught me to care about this.” Or “I’m worried about my kids.” Or “Something scary happened in my neighborhood.”

While our different emotional responses to the election present a challenge to our communities, they also unearth a reality we have avoided for too long. Our political differences are not merely about policy details; they are about our desires, fears, loves, and loyalties. Our difficulty navigating these emotional differences might, in a strange way, bring to the surface the real challenge for political formation and discipleship today: confronting the stories our politics sell us and finding in Scripture a truer and better story.

While that morning in Bible study was emotionally charged, it turned out that Ecclesiastes offered us exactly the word we needed. This book, known for its pessimism about human endeavors and earthly pleasures—“meaningless, meaningless!” is the author’s refrain—surprisingly confronts the whole spectrum of emotional responses to the election.

We worship a God who can handle the emotional outburst of Ecclesiastes: delight at the joys of creation, devastation at their limitations, despair when all efforts at success and contentment fail. We worship a God who reveals himself to us in such a book. Nothing about our emotional reactions to the election surprises God. Ecclesiastes honors the full range of human emotions in response to a world that is somehow both beautiful and horrifying, joyful and devastating.

But Ecclesiastes doesn’t leave us there. For those leaning toward triumphalism and rejoicing, the wisdom book reminds us that failure and evil are mixed into all human work. For those leaning toward despair and gloom, Ecclesiastes reminds us that moments of joy and goodness remain even in suffering.

We should honor each other’s emotional responses to this election—they are legitimate, and they helpfully point us toward the deeper stories we believe about the world and our place in it. But we should also, in the days and months after the election, point each other to the truth in Scripture that we do not “understand the work of God, the Maker of all things” (Ecc. 11:5).

We do not yet know what God is doing—in our country, in our churches, in ourselves. But the instructions to us now are the same as those to the distraught reader of Ecclesiastes throughout all of history: “Fear God and keep his commandments,” knowing that “God will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil” (12:13–14).

Kaitlyn Schiess is the author of The Ballot and the Bible: How Scripture Has Been Used and Abused in American Politics and Where We Go from Here.

News

Died: Tony Campolo, Champion of ‘Red Letter’ Christianity

The Baptist pastor and sociologist argued caring for the poor was an integral part of proclaiming the gospel.

Tony Campolo obituary photo B&W
Christianity Today November 19, 2024
Tony Campolo / edits by Christianity Today

Tony Campolo frequently started his speeches to Christian audiences by telling them three things.

First, he would tell them how many children had died from hunger or malnutrition-related diseases the night before—a number in the tens of thousands.

And Campolo would say, “Most of you don’t give a s—.”

Then: “What’s worse is that you’re more upset with the fact that I said ‘s—’ than the fact that thousands of kids died last night.”

Campolo, a progressive Christian leader who courted controversy challenging evangelicals to see caring for the poor as an integral part of proclaiming the gospel, died on Tuesday. He was 89.

Campolo popularized the term red letter Christian—a reference to the way the words of Jesus are printed in many New Testaments—as an alternative to evangelical. He felt an alternative was needed because evangelicals had turned their backs on the good news, embracing right wing politics and comfortable, middle class conformity. But the best cure for evangelicalism’s ills, he said, was Jesus.

As he traveled relentlessly, speaking to up to 500 groups per year, Campolo urged people to let their lives be transformed by Jesus. And he told them that if their lives really were transformed, it would be good news for people who were hungry and oppressed.

“I surrendered my life to Jesus and trusted in him for my salvation, and I have been a staunch evangelical ever since,” Campolo wrote in 2015. “I believe the Bible to have been written by men inspired and guided by the Holy Spirit. I place my highest priority on the words of Jesus, emphasizing the 25th chapter of Matthew, where Jesus makes clear that on Judgment Day, the defining question will be how each of us responded to those he calls ‘the least of these.’”

A Baptist pastor and sociologist, Campolo attributed this vision to John Wesley. In a 2003 interview with Christianity Today, Campolo said he studied the founder of Methodism in a class on “Christian classics” when he was a student at Eastern College (now a university). He realized Wesley’s social activism wasn’t distinct from his conversion but deeply connected.

“The Wesleyan vision was warm-hearted evangelism with an incredible social vision,” Campolo said. “Out of this conversion grows the great Wesleyan revival with all of its social consciousness, attacking slavery, championing the rights of women, ending child labor laws.”

Born a second-generation Italian immigrant in 1935, Campolo had his first taste of social conflict in the church while growing up in Philadelphia. His family attended an American Baptist congregation in West Philadelphia, but it shut down when white people fled the city and their African American neighbors for the suburbs. Campolo’s father, Anthony Campolo Sr., decided not to follow. Instead, he took his family to a Black Baptist church nearby, and they worshiped there. 

As a young pastor in his 20s, Campolo faced racism in the church again. He was working in a congregation near Valley Forge, in Pennsylvania, when General Electric opened a new research headquarters in the area, triggering a housing shortage. Black people in particular had trouble finding places to live. Campolo started pushing local leaders to fix the problem and soon found himself the head of a council working on fair and affordable housing.

The backlash was quick. Campolo was sharply criticized by white people in his congregation, who said he was going to hurt real estate value and the reputation of the church.

It was eye-opening for the young minister. “I did not expect that Christian people could be so openly racist,” he said.

Campolo left the church to get a doctorate in sociology and took a teaching position at Eastern in 1964. At the school, Campolo started getting students to volunteer with children in Philadelphia, first with college resources and then with his own organization, the Evangelical Association for the Promotion of Education (EAPE). Shortly after it was founded, the EAPE helped start a school in the Dominican Republic and another in Haiti. 

To recruit more students to spend a summer or a year doing missions, and to raise money for ongoing projects, Campolo started accepting speaking invitations large and small. His schedule sometimes put him in conflict with Eastern administrators, and his speeches often put him in conflict with conservative evangelicals. 

In 1985, Campolo was accused of heresy. He was uninvited from a Washington, DC, youth rally organized by Campus Crusade for Christ (now Cru) and Youth for Christ because he had written that Jesus is present in other people, that the fullest expression of God was in Christ’s humanness, and that while Jesus is the only savior, “not everybody who is saved by Him is aware that He is the one who is doing the saving.” 

A panel led by theologian J. I. Packer reviewed the charges, grilled Campolo for six hours, and found him orthodox. He was “verbally incautious” and guilty of “unbiblical faux pas,” the panel concluded, but it was inadvertent and born out of his eagerness to evangelize.

Campolo, for his part, said the episode cemented his commitment to be a faithful critic of the church. 

“I could have ended up as another career public speaker,” he said. “A career public speaker is not what I’m called to be. I’m called to be a critic. And this controversy has started the old juices flowing again.”

In addition to teaching, speaking, and running a missionary organization, Campolo was active in the Democratic Party. He ran a doomed campaign for Congress in 1976 and worked with President Bill Clinton on the development of AmeriCorps in the 1990s.

Campolo also became Clinton’s personal spiritual advisor during the scandal over Clinton’s sexual misconduct with an intern. He formed an accountability group for the president, along with evangelical pastor Gordon MacDonald and Methodist minister J. Philip Wogaman. When the pastoral counseling became public, Campolo was criticized for providing “spiritual cover” for Clinton and allowing him to feign repentance in order to avoid political consequences. 

In 2008, Campolo worked on the Democratic Party platform. He was partly responsible for a plank committing the party to supporting programs that would “help reduce the number of unintended pregnancies and thereby also reduce the need for abortions,” even as it remained committed to women’s right to choose abortion. Campolo told reporters the language did not go as far as he wanted, but that he thought social programs, including health care, age-appropriate sex education, and food stamps could cause a dramatic reduction in the number of abortions.

Campolo regularly clashed with Christian conservatives for what he saw as their misplaced priorities. He consistently argued that Christians should support a political agenda that would help the poor. 

“There are 2,000 verses of Scripture that call upon us to respond to the needs of the poor,” Campolo said. “And yet, I find that when Christians talked about values in this last election that was not on the agenda, that was not a concern. If you were to get the voter guide of the Christian Coalition, that does not rate.”

Campolo launched Red Letter Christians, a network for Christians with left-leaning politics, with fellow Eastern alumnus Shane Claiborne. The network grew to include 120 affiliated organizations and churches, as well as a popular podcast, an annual gathering, and social justice campaigns, such as events where Claiborne and a Mennonite blacksmith invite people to turn firearms into garden tools in fulfillment of Isaiah 2:4.

Campolo also continued to urge young Christians not to turn their back on the local church, even if they were disappointed in its evangelical witness. In one of his more popular books, Letters to a Young Evangelical, Campolo said that much of the American church was more committed to a middle-class way of life than anything in the Bible. And yet, he said, Christians’ commitment to the church shouldn’t waver.

“The church is still your mother,” Campolo wrote. “It is she who taught you about Jesus. I want you to remember that the Bible teaches that Christ loves the church and gave himself for it (Ephesians 5:25). That’s a preeminent reason why you dare not decide that you don’t need the church. Christ’s church is called his bride (1 Cor. 11:2), and his love for her makes him faithful to her even when she is not faithful to him.”

In 2015, Campolo stirred new controversy when he came out in favor of same-sex marriage ahead of the US Supreme Court’s Obergefell v. Hodges decision. Campolo had long said that same-sex attraction was not a choice and that most people could not change their sexual orientation through prayer or counseling, but he had not taken an affirming stance. 

He said he changed his mind after spending time with LGBTQ Christians in committed, monogamous relationships and reflecting on the fundamental question of what marriage is for. Campolo, grounding the argument in his faith, said he believed the primary purpose of marriage is sanctification. A same-sex marriage should be affirmed by the church, he said, if it encouraged people to grow in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and the other fruits of the Spirit.

“Obviously, people of good will can and do read the scriptures very differently when it comes to controversial issues,” he said. “I am painfully aware that there are ways I could be wrong about this one.”

Campolo said he hoped his most lasting legacy would be the people he inspired to go into ministry. He estimated that more than 1,000 people heard God’s call to evangelism and missions through their work with EAPE and that perhaps as many as 10,000 were inspired by the hundreds of speeches he gave every year. 

Campolo told CT that he dreamed of having those people’s names on his tombstone.

He is survived by his wife, Peggy, and their children, Lisa Goodheart and Bart Campolo.

News

With Giving Down Again, Churches Wait on the Lord—and the Economy

ECFA reports that 70 percent of its member churches struggle to keep up with inflation.

Christmas church service with a speaker on stage and a Christmas tree in the background.
Christianity Today November 19, 2024
Ocampproductions / Lightstock

Just because Christmas services are fuller this year doesn’t mean the offering plates will be.

Church giving has not kept up with inflation for two years in a row, according to the State of Giving report released on Tuesday by the Evangelical Council for Financial Accountability (ECFA).

“It’s the best of times and the worst of times. Attendance is up, but the amount per giver is down,” said Steve Chaney, whose accounting firm Chaney & Associates works with 1,100 US churches.

A midsize congregation in New Jersey told ECFA that its year-to-date tithing in 2024 has been flat compared to 2023 even though attendance is up 20 percent.

Another, in Indiana, said, “Our church is growing, but the economy is taking a toll on donations.”

Overall, 70 percent of ECFA member churches reported that they struggled to keep up with the impact of inflation this year.

“The headwinds of inflation have taken a toll everywhere. Goods that cost ministries and churches $100 five years ago now require $123 to fund today. This is a lot of ground to make up just to stay even,” wrote ECFA president Michael Martin in the new release.

“Other financial headwinds reported by ECFA members included downturns in available volunteers and in attracting new donors—all in an environment of economic and political uncertainty.”

That sense of uncertainty has crunched the typical year-end giving season that churches and ministries rely on to solicit donations.

“We see a lot of churches lean into it the last 30 days of the year,” when recurring givers may have more cash to give and when there’s more talk of holiday generosity in the air, said Aaron Senneff, chief technology officer at Pushpay, a digital giving platform for churches.

Congregations can receive a quarter to a third of their annual donations between Thanksgiving and Christmas, Senneff said in an interview with CT, and some see as much as 10 percent in the final three days of the year.

Meanwhile, churches face rising operating costs have to make decisions about spending while waiting for those gifts to come.

Chaney, the accountant, said that by mid-November, he’d met with four churches that decided not to do Christmas bonuses this year.

Across ECFA member churches, cash-equivalent donations dropped 1 percent last year after adjusting for inflation and 3.8 percent the year before. Donations to nonprofit ministries were also down back-to-back years, with drops of 3.3 percent and 0.4 percent.

Prior to the consecutive declines, many churches and ministries saw giving levels rise during the pandemic.

More than half (56%) of churches indicated that giving was trending higher so far in 2024 than in 2023, and around a quarter said it was the same.

Most (63%) expected that they would take in more donations this December than they did last year.

“The negative impact of inflation seems to be lessening,” said Warren Bird, ECFA’s senior vice president of research.

Part of that might be that churches are doing a better job adapting.

“Historically, the trap has been to really focus in only on revenue and making sure it is keeping up with or exceeding the prior year,” said Jake Lapp, ECFA’s vice president of member accountability. “With the impact of inflation, it is forcing organizations to consider strategies to reduce expenses and find other creative ways to reduce the impact of rising costs.”

Megachurches with wide donor bases have fared a bit better than the rest: Churches with over 8,000 in weekly attendance were the only ones whose annual giving has grown over the past decade.

Churches with revenue of $20 million and higher (the highest category in the ECFA report) have generally outpaced inflation, with donations up 3.4 percent last year and 2.2 percent over the past decade.

Churches in the smallest revenue category—under $2 million annually—also saw giving increase by 2.4 percent last year, the only other segment to grow and its first uptick in a few years.

Even more than inflation, 73 percent of churches were concerned about the struggle to recruit volunteers in 2024, ECFA found.

Senneff, at Pushpay, sees a strong correlation between church engagement and its financial health. Put simply, he said, “If you want more giving, go get more volunteers.”

People who are involved and invested, who feel a sense of belonging at church, will feel compelled to give and will be in a position to recognize the tangible benefits of their tithes in the community.

Chaney recommended regularly updating and encouraging congregants about their giving in writing, not just by email. He also said it’s more effective for churches to shift discussion of budgetary line items—mortgage payments and light bills—to talk of the church’s broader mission and vision.

The worst thing a church could do, though, is not talk about giving at all. “I don’t believe in beg-a-thons,” he said, “but we should teach on it and preach on it.”

Digital giving platforms—which can now accept payments from Apple Pay, Venmo, and CashApp—have also made it easier for churches to accept larger, “complex gifts” like stocks and cryptocurrencies. (Including securities and crypto, cash giving makes up 75 percent of annual revenue for a typical church or ministry accredited by the ECFA.)

Pushpay saw the frequency of tithing with crypto double over the past year.

With markets rallying, Chaney said more investors and business owners may opt to give stocks this year, since they can result in a bigger gift for the church while avoiding capital gains tax.

Tax deductions have helped incentivize giving, and Martin, the ECFA president, hopes to see the incoming administration once again offer a charitable deduction for those who don’t itemize on their returns.

“President Trump can make a huge and immediate impact by once again championing a charitable deduction for everyday givers,” he said.

Respondents in the ECFA State of Giving survey didn’t know which candidate would win the presidential election when they were asked about their economic outlook back in September and October, but 71 percent of churches projected that their cash donations would be higher in 2025.

Now that Donald Trump was elected, his victory spurred by a national sense of disappointment in the state of the economy, Chaney predicts that “the rebound is going to be huge.” Trump promised to end the “inflation nightmare,” and his supporters are optimistic about business, though some economists are skeptical.

While a booming stock market and strong economy tend to result in higher giving, churches and ministries look beyond the White House for financial confidence.

“We find optimism and resiliency to be core characteristics of ECFA’s membership,” Bird wrote to CT, “fueled by their trust in the Lord and the deep care demonstrated by the donors who support and pray for them.”

Books
Review

Jordan Peterson Loves God’s Word. But What About God?

The popular influencer’s latest book, “We Who Wrestle with God,” is ambitious, insightful, and slippery on theological truth.

Jordan Peterson holding scripture shaped as hearts
Christianity Today November 19, 2024
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: WikiMedia Commons

About a decade ago, a friend of mine mentioned a series of videos about the Bible he’d discovered online. It was by an obscure Canadian academic whom neither of us knew. My friend had been raised evangelical and remained a Christian, but after watching, he asked me a question he’s repeated many times since: “Why didn’t anyone ever tell me the Bible is interesting?”

That question is the right point of entry for considering how that Canadian academic, Jordan Peterson, has since catapulted into worldwide fame. His YouTube channel has more than eight million subscribers. His podcast boasts millions of downloads. His books are bestsellers. Politicians know his name, hostile publications wield it like a club, and guests on his show have ranged from Richard Dawkins, Roger Scruton, and Naftali Bennett to Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Glenn Greenwald, and Bishop Robert Barron.

Peterson’s rhetorical style is muscular, assertive, and unapologetic. He has therefore assumed the role of conservative culture warrior. But the moniker has always rung somewhat hollow given his training and sensibilities. Peterson is a Jungian psychologist who taught at Harvard and Toronto; who believes simultaneously, and apparently with equal intensity, in the truths of evolutionary biology and the truths of Christian Scripture; and who calls himself an old-school liberal and swears he lacks the competence necessary to know, for instance, whether Jesus rose bodily from the dead or even what that would mean.

An odd ally for Christians, in other words, at least at first glance. Yet my Christian friend found Peterson a breath of fresh air. The reason, I’ve come to see, is simple. Peterson was speaking about the Bible as if it were the most important thing in the world, as if the stakes were a matter of life and death, as if the stories and themes of Scripture demanded an immediate existential decision on the part of everyone who encountered them. My friend was familiar with old-time religion. He wasn’t familiar with this.

In Peterson’s new book, We Who Wrestle with God: Perceptions of the Divine, readers curious about what drew in my friend—and so many like him—can see for themselves what the fuss is about. 

The volume is, to put it mildly, an enormous undertaking—quite unlike Peterson’s self-help books. Running more than 200,000 words, it is a thematic and allegorical commentary on the law of Moses, especially Genesis and Exodus. It is gargantuan in every sense of the word: energizing and exhausting, brimming with ideas and asides, full of insightful connections and baffling conclusions, consistent in its viewpoint, maddening in its dodges, impressive in its ambition, and tedious, at times, in its sheer funereal solemnity.

Now, about those other books: In what follows, I am going to assess this volume and nothing else. Unlike my friend, I don’t belong to the Peterson fandom. In preparation for this review, I’ve listened to a couple episodes of his podcast and watched a few clips. Beyond that, this book was, for me, what I expect it will be for many others: a first-time immersion in the mind of Jordan Peterson. 

Allegory, archetypes, and anthropology

Ever since Paul described the story of Hagar and Sarah as an allegory (Gal. 4:24), Christians have read the stories of the Old Testament in ways that reach beyond the literal and historical. And as long as they have done so, they’ve argued about how best to do it. Early on, under the influence of pastors and scholars like Irenaeus of Lyons, Origen of Alexandria, and Augustine of Hippo, a loose, shared approach arose that continued to develop into the late Middle Ages.

You could call it allegory, but it was also known as figuralism, typology, or the spiritual sense. The idea was that historical figures and events pointed beyond themselves to the coming of Christ and his church. God authored the events of salvation history itself as much as its transcription in Scripture, so that the first Adam pointed to the second, Eve pointed to Mary, and so on. The human and historical reality was not erased but confirmed and upheld in this providential correspondence. As Jesus said, “If you believed Moses, you would believe me, for he wrote about me” (John 5:46).

For medieval readers like Thomas Aquinas, the literal sense of the text was bedrock. The words of a passage had a plain meaning—on the surface, so to speak—and this was the primary significance for which readers should search. But building on the literal, the spiritual sense unfolded in three ways: the allegorical, indicating the saving realities of the new covenant; the tropological, indicating how believers should live morally; and the anagogical, indicating the glory to be revealed at the end of all things.

Why this history lesson in biblical hermeneutics? Because Peterson’s book is nothing if not a full-throated allegory of the first five books of the Bible (plus Job and Jonah). Yet he does not deploy the full medieval interpretive scheme. He reads the Bible exclusively for its moral (or tropological) sense, filtered through an anthropological and psychological lens. 

In Peterson’s hands, this sense is usually divorced both from the historical aspect of the literal sense (namely, whether an event “really” occurred) and from its fulfillment in the passion of Christ and Pentecost. The Bible is revelatory, for Peterson, but what it reveals is human perseverance in the face of the world’s evil, terror, and potential to induce despair.

One term for this approach would be anthropocentric. A more generous description would see it as a “bottom-up” movement, from the human to the divine, which doesn’t have to preclude the “top-down” approach, from God to humanity. Either way, the intent is not a denial of biblical truth. It’s a redefinition of what it means to describe the Bible as true in the first place. 

The value of Scripture, in Peterson’s eyes, is its preservation of deep mythic realities that cannot be told except by means of symbol, archetype, and story. In a word, the canon is a vast library or reservoir of what he calls “meta-truths” rendered in narrative form. For example, he describes the story of Cain and Abel as “a meta-truth—a frame within which the facts of the world are held to reveal themselves; a structure that defines all the truths [that we] are capable of seeing and of acting on.”

Given the antiquity and strangeness of Scripture’s mythic archetypes, Peterson thinks modern readers, religious or otherwise, lack the eyes to see what’s going on in its stories. Reading nonsymbolically, he argues, is inadequate to how Scripture is meant to communicate. Biblical truths cannot be comprehended except by stories, and these truths are so vital that in their absence our lives, values, institutions, and civilization itself cannot survive for long.

Truth, narrative, and fairy tales

Let me give you the flavor of Peterson’s way of reading. Typically, he begins by summarizing a biblical story, drawing attention to notable details or oddities in the text. Then he asks a variant of a question he repeats countless times: “What does this mean?” “What does this signify?” “What is the moral of the story?” The book is a catalogue of his many answers.

His moral of the binding of Isaac, for example, is that “all things, no matter how valuable, must be offered up to God.” As for the Israelites’ plundering of the Egyptians, the moral is that “those who abide by the proper faith will end up with everything, even that which the tyrants have attempted to sequester.” The moral of the Tower of Babel: “The arrogant belief in the power of technology … corrupts the entirety of psyche and state so completely that words themselves … lose their meaning.” The moral of Genesis 3: “Do not ascribe to yourself the right to question the minimal necessary preconditions for harmonious being established by what is truly transcendent—or all is lost.”

On its own terms, Peterson’s exegesis can be quite successful. His meditations on cycles of violence in Cain and Abel and on the technological temptation in Babel are illuminating. I was moved and instructed by his interpretation of Eve’s special role as ezer kenegdo: “a beneficial adversary—a partner in play.” And Peterson’s favorite conversation partners, including Fyodor Dostoevsky, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, John Milton, and Mircea Eliade, make for a wonderful conversation with Moses, not least since they too were close readers of the canon.

Yet a fundamental ambiguity hangs over the entire book. Peterson does not claim to be a Christian, at least in the ordinary sense. Has he inadvertently reduced Jews and Christians’ sacred Scriptures to morals and tropes, thereby eliminating not just the literal and the historical but the metaphysical as well?

To use Peterson’s own words, does he see Scripture as nothing more than “the landscape of the fictional,” an imaginative symbolic space “where we experiment with value, while remaining secure”? When he calls Jonah and other scriptural stories the “deepest of all fairy tales,” is this akin to C. S. Lewis’s notion of “true myth”—as Peterson seemed to intimate a few years ago? Or is the Bible on a spectrum with Homer and Grimm and Walt Disney, different by the degree to which it manifests deep human truths, but not different in kind? 

The great danger, which I expect Peterson wants to avoid, is that his method threatens to make the Bible just one more (if the best) book of rules for life.

Israel, revelation, and God

Let me close with five observations: two notes of appreciation and three of caution.

First, the world does not need fewer commentaries on the Torah but more, always more. Jews and Christians alike should therefore give thanks that Peterson has joined Marilynne RobinsonRobert AlterLeon KassAvivah Gottlieb Zornberg, and other students of literature and politics in turning to the five books of Moses as the beginning of our tutelage in divine wisdom.

Second, the power of Peterson’s style is his marriage of existential urgency with hermeneutical creativity. He expects the Word to show him wonders. He wrestles with the text—a mystery and a stranger—until he secures a blessing from it. He takes for granted that its depths are bottomless. Do pastors model this posture in the pulpit? Do teachers in the classroom? Do scholars on the page?

Christian readers should learn from Peterson’s boldness, his disposition of awe and docility before the sacred page. He opens the scroll with the same spirit as the psalmist: “Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in your law” (119:18). Moreover, believers who have retreated from symbolic and spiritual interpretations into the literal alone should return to the wisdom of patristic and medieval interpreters, who were themselves following the example of Christ and the apostles. The Old Testament is full of signs and wonders. Make the Bible interesting again.

That said, I conclude with cautions. To begin, the risk of Peterson’s method is neither eisegesis nor atheism but an unintended supersessionism. Peterson doesn’t argue that God annulled his election of the Jews by replacing them with the (mostly Gentile) church. He would never dream of eliminating the Jewishness of the Law and the prophets. 

But something similar inevitably occurs whenever Gentiles read Israel’s Scripture as a collection of religious tales about humanity in general, for it is anything but. It is about the particular man Abraham, his wife Sarah, and their many children. It is not about “Everyman.” It is about the promise of the one God to this one people. It may be about more than this, but not less.

Second, the question of God is unavoidable. Peterson is slippery on this point. Familiar words from Christian doctrine—like creation and redemption and resurrection—mean something altogether different when Peterson uses them. At the end of the day, the atheist Richard Dawkins is right to press the point: Was the tomb of Jesus empty? Did he walk on water? Is God a living, personal reality who alone created and sustains the world? Who became incarnate in Jesus of Nazareth? Who inspired and speaks through Holy Scripture?

Peterson doesn’t answer—or when he does, it’s by code-switching back into the language of psychology, myth, and archetypes. This isn’t necessary. Theologians can speak Peterson’s dialect; it seems reasonable to ask him to return the favor. 

If he tried, he might discover that he need not leave behind his moral interpretive method. Rather, it would be strengthened through reintegration with the other senses of Scripture. The Bible does indeed possess “wisdom from time memorial,” as Peterson puts it. But this is not (only) because it hands on the compressed mythic insights of antiquity but because it is the very Word of God.

Finally, a specter haunts this book: the specter of Protestant liberalism. Prominent in the West over the last two centuries, this movement has also read the Bible through a human-focused lens. It has shucked the shell of myth and miracle, seeking the moral kernel within. 

That kernel was the brotherhood of man, a this-worldly message of social uplift and political progress. It turns out, though, that when the church is reduced to a vaguely spiritual charity or activism club, it loses its reason for being. A godless gospel is scarcely worth living for, much less dying for. An unrisen Christ is no Christ at all.

I should add that the best of the Protestant liberals were brilliant scholars, devoted students of Scripture, and pious lovers of Jesus. In his own way, Peterson is one of them. Yet it is difficult to tell whether that is where he wants to be.

And curiously, whereas Protestant liberalism stood at the church’s doors ushering believers out, Peterson stands in the same threshold, ushering unbelievers in (and sometimes shooing drifting believers back in!). For this reason he may well be counted among the new “digital lectors” schooling the curious and the uncatechized in this rising generation that lives and learns online. His influence on my friend is shared by thousands of others, and for that we Christians should be grateful.

But we should insist it’s not enough. The man stands at the threshold. A voice within beckons. It says, “Take and read; take and read!” It says, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Prov. 9:10). It says, “I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and now look, I am alive for ever and ever!” (Rev. 1:17–18). It says, “What is that to you? You must follow me” (John 21:22).

Peterson is lingering just outside the church, theologically lukewarm, secure in his insecurity, a friend to seekers but not to the friend of sinners. Our prayer should be that Christ would draw him to step inside. Physician, heal thyself! Let the one who helps others be helped. Let the man cross the threshold through the venture of faith and see what he discovers within.

Brad East is an associate professor of theology at Abilene Christian University. He is the author of four books, including The Church: A Guide to the People of God and Letters to a Future Saint.

News

Anti-Trafficking Ministries Oppose Trump’s Pick for Attorney General

A number of groups want a full investigation of the allegations that former Rep. Matt Gaetz had sex with a minor.

Matt Gaetz attends the 2024 Republican National Convention.

Rep. Matt Gaetz (R-Florida) attends the 2024 Republican National Convention.

Christianity Today November 18, 2024
Andrew Harnik / Getty Images

Several Christian anti-trafficking organizations are publicly opposing President-elect Donald Trump’s pick for US attorney general, former Republican representative Matt Gaetz of Florida.

Gaetz resigned his congressional seat last week after the nomination announcement, just days before the House Ethics Committee planned to release its investigation into accusations the lawmaker had sex with a minor. He was also investigated by the Department of Justice (DOJ) for sex trafficking, though the DOJ did not pursue charges.

If he wins Senate confirmation, Gaetz would lead the main law enforcement agency that prosecutes sex trafficking. The DOJ is in the middle of prosecuting high-profile trafficking cases like that of Sean “Diddy” Combs.

Trump, in his statement announcing Gaetz as his pick for attorney general, said Gaetz would “root out the systemic corruption at DOJ.”

Shared Hope International, a Christian anti-trafficking organization founded by Republican congresswoman Linda Smith in 1998, stated that Gaetz should not be confirmed until the House Ethics Committee could clear him of sex-trafficking allegations.

“The office of attorney general requires the highest ethical conduct and public trust,” said Smith, who serves as CEO. Shared Hope also signed a letter organized by anti-trafficking group World Without Exploitation which will be sent to the Senate Judiciary Committee from dozens of anti-trafficking organizations opposing Gaetz’s confirmation. More groups are still signing onto the letter.

The signers included faith-based anti-trafficking groups like Exodus Cry, Imago Dei Fund, Sacred Beginnings, and The Genesis Project, as well as a cornucopia of others—from more liberal feminist groups like National Organization for Women to a motorcycle group (Ride My Road) that raises money to fight trafficking.

“The nomination of Mr. Gaetz sends a signal to the country and the world that sexual misconduct and exploitation and corrupt behavior will not only go unpunished, but will be rewarded,” the groups wrote. “It is a signal to sex traffickers around the United States to continue exploiting the most vulnerable for their own profit with no consequences.”

The groups also urged senators to block a recess appointment.

“The United States needs an attorney general who stands for justice, ethics, and protection of survivors,” the letter continued.

The House ethics investigation reportedly includes testimony from a woman that Gaetz had sex with her when she was 17 years old. Now House Speaker Mike Johnson says the report should not be released because Gaetz is no longer a member of the House.

“That would be a terrible precedent to set,” Johnson said.

Gaetz has denied that he had sex with anyone under the age of 18 and has characterized the investigation as a “plot” against him.

The DOJ did not pursue trafficking charges against Gaetz, but Gaetz’s one-time associate Joel Greenberg pleaded guilty to federal sex-trafficking charges and is serving an 11-year sentence. Gaetz is accused of being at an Orlando party where trafficking took place and of having sex with a minor there.

Gaetz is a member of a Southern Baptist church, First Baptist Church of Fort Walton Beach.

The National Center on Sexual Exploitation (NCOSE) was founded by Catholic, Protestant, and Jewish leaders, and has become a pacesetter in the fight against exploitation through pornography. It also issued a statement opposing Gaetz’s confirmation “unless he is fully cleared of all allegations of sexual misconduct, including allegations of sex trafficking of a minor and participation in prostitution.”

NCOSE CEO Dawn Hawkins said that the allegations were “serious” and “credible” and that Gaetz’s resignation from Congress should not prevent the release of the House investigation. She added that if the House would not release its investigation, the Senate should conduct its own report.

The board chairman of NCOSE Ronald DeHaas is the CEO of Covenant Eyes, a porn-monitoring app, and an elder in the Evangelical Presbyterian Church.

Former FBI agent Suzanne Lewis-Johnson is a Christian who worked on federal child-trafficking cases. She told CT she knew from personal experience the power of the attorney general to decide what cases agents investigate and what cases are prosecuted.

“Putting someone purportedly involved in trafficking in the one position in the country with the most influence over both which cases make it to the courtroom and how federal dollars flow to local communities … poses a danger to those efforts and to vulnerable people’s very lives,” Lewis-Johnson said.

Robert George, a conservative Catholic legal scholar at Princeton University, is on the board of NCOSE and agreed that there should be no confirmation “until a full and transparent investigation is conducted into his possible role in the exploitation of young women and girls at the ‘sex parties’ he has admitted to attending.” Gaetz has denied attending the particular sex party in question.

Another conservative Christian group, Liberty Counsel, released a statement opposing Gaetz. The organization, based in Florida, where Gaetz was a congressman and state lawmaker, said in a statement that Gaetz is “neither morally nor professionally qualified to become the United States Attorney General.” Liberty Counsel noted that aside from the “serious allegations” of sex parties and drug use, Gaetz had given a speech to conservative Christian leaders “laced with sexual innuendo.”

“This is not the character of the nation’s highest law enforcement officer who is entrusted to uphold the rule of law and prosecute sex traffickers and sex crimes,” Liberty Counsel stated.

Three of the men Trump has said he intends to nominate for his cabinet have been accused of sexual assault: Gaetz, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., and Pete Hegseth. Billionaire Elon Musk, who has become a close confidante to Trump in the transition process, has also been accused of sexual harassment and other misconduct.

“Dear survivors: I’m grieved that you have to see a steady stream of sexual abusers put forth as leaders of our nation,” wrote Southern Baptist pastor Chris Davis, an abuse survivor, in a post on Bluesky. “You deserve better.”

In his 2020 book Firebrand, Gaetz wrote in a chapter titled “Sex and Money,” that “getting paid and getting laid … aren’t inherently bad things.”  

“We’ve got a president now who doesn’t care for puritanical grandstanding or moralistic preening,” Gaetz wrote about Trump. “I have an active social life, and it’s probably easier in the era of Trump. We’ve had ‘perfect family man’ presidents before, after all, and many of those men sold out our country, even if their wives were happy the whole time. If politicians’ family lives aren’t what really matter to the voters, maybe that’s a good thing. I’m a representative, not a monk.”

This article has been corrected to reflect that NCOSE had an interfaith founding.

Ideas

Mere Misattribution? Why We Misquote C.S. Lewis

As the famous British author once said, crediting people with things they never said says something about us.

A silhouette with a question mark in the middle and an image of C.S. Lewis showing faintly through.
Christianity Today November 18, 2024
Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Getty, Wikimedia Commons

“Humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less.”

This pithy saying, attributed to the famed British writer C. S. Lewis, has widely circulated the internet in the last decade. The only problem is, he didn’t say it. It appeared in Rick Warren’s The Purpose Driven Life, and another version cropped up a few years earlier in This Was Your Life! Preparing to Meet God Face to Face by Rick Howard and Jamie Lash. “Real humility is not thinking less of ourselves; it is thinking of ourselves less,” they wrote before quoting Lewis on the topic.

Howard and Lash’s summary of Lewis’s thinking and Warren’s rephrasing has become one of the most common quotes wrongly attributed to Lewis.

Numerous fake C. S. Lewis quotes have gone viral in recent years thanks to the power of social media. Many are pointedly applicable to the present cultural moment. During the COVID-19 pandemic, a letter purporting to be from The Screwtape Letters filled Facebook feeds. In the false letter, a demon claims, “The world turned into a concentration camp, without forcing any of them into captivity.” And in recent election seasons, another fake Screwtape letter circulated, congratulating the junior demon on keeping a person “completely fixated on politics.”

Other false Lewis quotes can even make him appear to put forth theologically disputable claims, like this quote, referenced by big-name leaders and cycled with regularity: “You do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.” It remains one of the most controversial.

Some popular misattributed Lewis quotes are even further removed from his actual words. Motivational phrases like “You are never too old to set another goal or dream a new dream” are frequently credited to Lewis. According to William O’Flaherty, author of The Misquotable C. S. Lewis, one of the more bizarre recent misattributions is “Be weird. Be random. Be who you are. Because you never know who would love the person you hide.”

O’Flaherty has become synonymous with debunking misquotes of C. S. Lewis ever since he began correcting them in his blog and on social media. His first experience with a misattributed Lewis quote, however, was his own.

“Despite the fact that I had read nearly all of his works at that point, I often did what people do now,” O’Flaherty said. “I’d see a quote credited to Lewis, liked what it said, and shared it without considering whether he was the author or not.”

In 2010, a Lewis scholar reached out to O’Flaherty about one of the inspiring quotes he’d shared on his blog. It wasn’t actually Lewis. “So I guess you could say I first noticed quotes misattributed to Lewis by being an offender.”

Today, O’Flaherty works to correct misattributed and out-of-context C. S. Lewis quotes, a role that increasingly seems never-ending, as Lewis quickly became one of the most misquoted writers. It appears the only thing social media and internet searches love more than a C. S. Lewis quote is a fake C. S. Lewis quote.

Michael Ward, C. S. Lewis scholar at Oxford University and author of Planet Narnia, said part of the reason Lewis is so misquoted is because he’s so quotable.

“He is a great writer who puts things pithily and memorably,” Ward said. “As soon as someone is recognized as ‘quotable,’ all sorts of quotes they didn’t say, and that perhaps nobody said, but which the speaker wishes someone had said, get attributed to them.”

Lewis wrote so widely and extensively that many simply assume any quote attributed to him could be from him. Ward said the false attributions can arise from laziness, ignorance, or simple guesswork. Quotes widely attributed to Lewis may range from paraphrases of his actual writing to the words of others that somehow became attached to him to quotes created to appear as if they belong to Lewis.

Our picture of his misquotes may be limited to misattributed words on X or a speciously claimed quote plastered over an image of Lewis on Instagram, but that’s not where they started. And unfortunately, they’re not limited to those spaces either.

Before he was himself quotable and misquotable, Lewis had already been exposed to the problem of misattribution. Ward noted that in his autobiography, Surprised by Joy, Lewis mentions hearing his Irish father relay anecdotes about an Irish scholar. Later, at Oxford, he heard those same stories attached to a British scholar.

When Lewis began his writing and speaking career, criticism of his work occasionally veered into mischaracterization, according to Harry Lee Poe, author of a trilogy of C. S. Lewis biographies. “The problem of misrepresentation arose from time to time from those who attacked Lewis,” said Poe, “and he just as regularly replied or responded in an article or letter to the editor.”

That was the case when Lewis drew the ire of Norman Pittenger, a progressive Anglican theologian and professor of apologetics at General Theological Seminary in New York. In the October 1958 Christian Century, Pittenger wrote a piece attacking Lewis’s approach to apologetics and theology.

The magazine’s editor sent the piece to Lewis and offered to reprint his reply. In his response, Lewis granted a handful of Pittenger’s minor complaints but challenged most of what he wrote. Particularly, Lewis wrote that the American professor had misquoted and misunderstood what Lewis had said in Miracles.

Wheaton College professor Clyde Kilby wrote a defense of Lewis in the December 1958 issue of Christianity Today and sent his response to Lewis. In his letters to Kilby and others, Lewis was much more forceful in his criticism of Pittenger. In one, Lewis wrote that he found it “hard to stomach the fact that, while contradicting nearly every article of the Creed, he continues to receive money as a professor of Christian apologetics.” Elsewhere, he said, “While one can respect a straightforward atheist, it is hard not to hate a man who takes money for defending Christianity and spends his time attacking it.”

Lewis’s misquotes may have started with his ideological opponents, but they spread to his seeming admirers even before social media. When O’Flaherty began researching false attributions, he traced many to pre-internet sources. “I discovered that part of the problem originated from books and articles,” he said.

The problem of fake quotes remained somewhat isolated with printed text. However, C. S. Lewis misquotes grew exponentially with the explosion of social media in the early 2000s.

Not long after sharing his own fake Lewis quote, O’Flaherty said he began to make a list of misattributed quotes. “It went from five to ten rather quickly and kept growing,” he said. By late 2012, he noticed those fake quotes were becoming an issue. He wrote an article debunking some of the most popular misquotes he’d seen. By 2016, confusion around what Lewis actually said had only increased, leading O’Flaherty to write his book.

This problem has gotten even more tricky in the last couple years. Just as the rise of social media in the early 2000s allowed more quotes to spread divorced from their correct source, the advent of generative artificial intelligence has now made it possible for fake quotes to be simulated in Lewis’s own voice. Such deepfake videos provide new avenues for confusion and deception.

There are no known videos of Lewis, and only a few audio recordings of him remain. Yet several modern videos have been produced in the last couple years appearing to feature extended clips of Lewis offering self-help motivational advice. The description for one video reads, “Embrace C.S. Lewis’ advice and ‘learn to act as if nothing bothers you’—a skill that can unlock a deeper level of peace, joy, and fulfillment in your life.”

However, a few paragraphs further down in the description, the channel reveals the video was “created using a synthesized voice that does not belong to him.” Entire YouTube channels are dedicated to producing computer-generated content in the simulated voice of well-known thinkers like Lewis.

As Christians navigate a growing sea of misattribution, it helps to remember why Lewis became so quotable in the first place. His desire was to communicate truth, not try to be memorable. “Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original,” he wrote in Mere Christianity, “whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.”

Part of his success in being original and memorable in how he communicated truth came from an area of his life that could be considered a failure. “Lewis had hoped to be a poet,” Poe said, “but his poetry tended to be technically well crafted but not quite what he regarded as great poetry. Yet Lewis’s prose has a remarkable poetic quality to it that rises above the mundane.”

As others quote and misquote Lewis, Ward said he might see it as an indirect compliment. “This is the almost predictable fate of any figure who achieves a certain stature, to serve as a convenient magnet for stories or quotations that other people want to perpetuate, however inaccurately,” he said. “But as a historian who respected source material, Lewis would also prefer it if people bothered to be accurate.”

In O’Flaherty’s eyes, the temptation to misquote Lewis or share quotes without checking the attribution often comes from a desire to use the cachet of someone respected simply to provide personal confirmation. “Frankly speaking, too many people have a bumper sticker attention span,” O’Flaherty wrote in his book. “And typically, they love quotes because quotes give them the ‘sound bite’ that confirms something they already believe.”

Modern forms of media for communication, like social media and YouTube videos, provide us with ample opportunity for both belief confirmation and affirmation. “Today, when a person shares a quote misattributed to Lewis, it may get several thousand likes and a thousand or more shares in less than a day,” O’Flaherty said. “The fake quote just spreads like wildfire.”

Whether people are intentionally deceptive in their misquoting of Lewis or lazily unaware, the man himself would argue that the pursuit of truth is always worth the extra effort.

As he wrote in Mere Christianity, “If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end: if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth—only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin with and, in the end, despair.” (That’s in Book I, Chapter 5—“We Have Cause to Be Uneasy”—page 39 in my edition, if you need to check.)

So the next time you hear someone say, “As C. S. Lewis once said,” make sure you ask them for a source.

Aaron Earls writes about faith, culture, and C. S. Lewis at The Wardrobe Door. He is also the senior writer for Lifeway Research.

News

Enough With Cutesy Kids Choirs. Let the Little Ones Lead Worship.

New children’s music resources go beyond holiday performances to cultivate a deeper theology and love of singing.

Girl holds sheet music with kids singing.
Christianity Today November 18, 2024
skynesher / Getty Images

At church services across the country this Christmas, wiggly kids will take the stage and stand in crooked lines to sing “Away in a Manger” and “Joy to the World” to a crowd watching them through the screens of their iPhones.

Andrew Pressley, who has spent the past 15 years transforming the children’s music ministry at his East Texas church, thinks it’s time for the grownups to put the devices away.

“We encourage parents not to take pictures and videos of their children when they are up front,” he said. “That was an adjustment. But when kids look out and see a sea of people singing with them, that’s a different message than the one they get when they look out and see their parents behind their phones.” 

When Pressley joined the staff of First Baptist Church Lindale in 2010, about 750 people attended weekly, but the dwindling children’s choir maxed out at 6 singers. He made an intentional shift in the vision, “moving from performance to participation.” 

Rather than cultivating a children’s choir that puts on a brief show on holidays before exiting the stage, Pressley wanted to give kids a more robust experience as worshipers and worship leaders—one that would help them grow up to better understand how and why they sing.

Pressley founded KidsCore, a small organization that produces resources for churches that want to cultivate a stronger singing culture, starting with children. 

“Lifeway and Brentwood Benson have pared down their music for children’s ministry,” Pressley recalled. “I couldn’t find a curriculum that accomplished what we wanted to do.” 

Lifeway discontinued some of its children’s choir products in 2002. The company still produces arrangements of worship songs for kids, as does Brentwood Benson (an old guard Christian publisher based in Franklin, Tennessee), but Pressley was looking for something more than musicals and performance pieces.

Pressley was looking for something specific—a resource that would help children become musicians and worshipers. He wanted a combination of musical and spiritual formation that harnessed the power and fun of music-making to help children participate in the life of the body of Christ.

Starting in 2010, Pressley and a music educator at his church began designing their own program. Over the next decade, Pressley saw the singing culture of his church change completely, beyond what used to be a six-kid children’s choir in a congregation of 750.

“In the past 15 years, kids have learned and grown, and now we have a culture of family singing, where so many more people are interested in making music together.”

KidsCore now has a small team of volunteer musicians and educators who have created arrangements and accompanying curriculum for around 40 songs, new and old. Each song  comes with a packet that includes song arrangements, multiple devotional lessons, music lessons covering principles like phrasing and rhythm, and optional activities like coloring pages and word searches.

Songs like “Be Thou My Vision,” “By Faith,” and “Joy to the World” come with pages of material that schools and churches can use to teach the song over the course of days or weeks, using each as a central theme to teach kids about music fundamentals and the Bible. 

KidsCore is one of several emerging initiatives across traditions focused on children in worship. In September, the Lilly Endowment announced that it had approved over $104 million in grant funds to 91 organizations and institutions through its Nurturing Children Through Worship and Prayer Initiative.

“Congregational worship and prayer play a critical role in the spiritual growth of children and offer important settings for children to acquire the language of faith, learn their faith traditions and experience the love of God as part of a supportive community,” said Christopher L. Coble, the endowment’s vice president for religion. 

Dordt University in Sioux Center, Iowa, received $1.25 million to fund its “All Kids are Worship Leaders” Initiative. 

“We have all of these faith formation programs for kids,” said Jeremy Perigo, one of the initiative’s directors. “But we don’t invite kids to be part of the leading and the planning and the reflection. The Spirit is poured out on all flesh, sons and daughters, children and adults.” 

Perigo, a professor of theology and worship arts, said the project team hopes to work with congregations to imagine new ways of letting children lead in their church communities. 

“We want to attend to and respect how children experience God,” said Perigo, who added that for some churches, this may require significant and permanent changes. 

“Some churches have services that are highly produced and pulpit- or platform-led. They have extremely high expectations of performance. One challenge will be helping those churches create hospitable spaces.” 

In many churches, kids spend Sunday morning services in classrooms while adults participate in corporate worship. The logistics of switching to family worship can be daunting, especially when they involve reconfiguring child check-in or dismissal processes. But in the end, those changes can be worth it.

“Over time, we started bringing children into the worship services, and they would help lead and teach the congregational songs,” Pressley said.

The changes around worship practices require some teaching and guidance for the rest of the congregation. When a church is used to children serving only as occasional, cute performers, it can be hard for adults to see them as leaders. 

“Children are people. They are not sentimental objects,” said Robin McLaughlin Conine, a K–12 music teacher and composer in Greensboro, North Carolina, who arranges music for KidsCore. “Kids’ music doesn’t have to be fast; it doesn’t have to be synthy and frenetic. Kids love singing slow songs and songs in minor keys.” 

Conine and the other musicians who work for KidsCore are selective about the songs they choose, but they try not to focus exclusively on either classic hymns or new praise songs. 

“We’re trying to pick songs that seem like they will have staying power,” Conine said. 

Pressley said he’s been inspired by Keith and Kristyn Getty’s slogan: “songs to carry for life.” The KidsCore team has arranged several of the Gettys’ modern hymns, including “In Christ Alone” and “Christ Our Hope in Life and Death.” 

Kirsten Shive, a worship leader and early childhood educator in Nashville who writes music lessons to accompany KidsCore arrangements, said that kids can and should sing songs with challenging words and melodies, provided the music is beautiful enough to draw them in.

“Kids know the difference between low-quality and high-quality music,” Shive said. “They love hearing and making beautiful music.” 

Acknowledging the musical and spiritual capabilities of children is central to KidsCore and Dordt’s “All Kids are Worship Leaders” initiative. Both projects aim to reorient music programming for kids around worship and collaboration, rather than performance. Leaders involved in both recognize that this shift will require some teaching and discipleship around the treatment of children in the church. 

“Children are capable of way more than we give them credit for,” Pressley said. 

Shive insisted that those capabilities include leadership and spiritual friendship and that children are called to be more than just receivers of information or entertainment. 

“There’s an opportunity here for intergenerational discipleship. We can learn from these kids. All of us, children and adults, are called to speak truth to each other.” 

Pressley and Perigo both spoke of the positive changes children bring to the dynamic of a worship service by helping adults to take themselves less seriously and focus on the dynamic, relational work of God in the body of Christ. Whether children lead by singing from a platform or by standing side by side with adults, they bring playfulness, wonder, and joy. 

“There’s something about an awkward family gathering that children can fix. There’s something children bring that unites us and gives us perspective,” Pressley said. “When kids are around, parents do silly stuff that they wouldn’t do otherwise.” 

“There might be some noise, or a microphone drop, or a silly comment during a quiet moment,” Perigo said. “But changing some of our norms will help welcome everyone in the community of faith. It may mean going back and rethinking how we do church.” 

News

Mike Huckabee Tapped to Be US Ambassador to Israel

The former Arkansas governor and pastor-turned-Fox News host has long embraced the “spiritual reality of understanding this is the land that God has given to the Jews.”

Mike Huckabee US Ambassador Israel Donald Trump flag
Christianity Today November 15, 2024
AP / Oded Balilty

Mike Huckabee’s journey to becoming the US ambassador to Israel began 50 years ago.

The former pastor, Arkansas governor, presidential candidate, and Fox News host first visited Israel with a friend on a tour of the Middle East not long after graduating from high school. “This is a place I’d never been, but I felt at home,” Huckabee said in a podcast interview at the National Religious Broadcasters convention earlier this year, about his experience as a teen.

“I felt an overwhelming spiritual reality of understanding this is the land that God has given to the Jews,” he told Paul Lanier, board chair of the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, for the “Nourish Your Biblical Roots” podcast. 

Huckabee said he began hosting his own tours of Israel in the 1980s and has visited the country more than 100 times. He’s a longtime supporter of pro-Israel groups like IFCJ—a nonprofit that seeks to strengthen ties between Christians and Jews and does humanitarian work in Israel—and has helped raise money for the group.

Huckabee has also long articulated staunchly pro-Israel political views. As a candidate for president in 2008, Huckabee said he believed there is “no such thing as a Palestinian,” according to CNN. He argued that the very concept of Palestinian identity is “a political tool to try and force land away from Israel.”

When he ran for president again in 2015, he held a fundraiser in one of the Israeli settlements in the West Bank, which are considered illegal under international law. 

In his conversation with Lanier, Huckabee compared the origin of Israel to the founding of the United States, saying both were started by people who moved to a new land to find peace and security. He also said the growth of Israel since 1948 is like biblical prophecies come true.

“I’ve seen Scripture come to life,” he said. “The desert has bloomed before my eyes.”

If confirmed by the Senate, Huckabee will replace the current US ambassador is Jack Lew, an American Jew who served as secretary of the Treasury under Barack Obama. Huckabee would also likely be the first political appointee—as opposed to interim career foreign service officers—to come to the US Embassy in Israel from a group known as Christian Zionists, who back Israel for theological as well as geopolitical reasons.

Many Christian Zionists are pre-millenialists who view the creation of the modern state of Israel as a necessary precondition for the second coming of Jesus and the apocalyptic purification of the world in the end times. Israel, along with the occupied territories it captured in 1967, is considered given by God to the biblical patriarch Abraham, who is told in the Book of Genesis, “God will bless those who bless you and curse those who curse you.”

Huckabee’s own biblical approach to Israel shows up in his habit of referring to the West Bank as “Judea and Samaria”—a way of signaling a belief that the land has always belonged to the Jewish people. 

That divine patrimony, these believers say, should shape how nations, including the United States, treat Israel and how individual Christians should view the nation. Over the past 30 years, many evangelicals, including Southern Baptists like Huckabee, but also growing groups of charismatic nondenominational Christians, have duly formed strong alliances with Israeli leaders and Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in particular.

They give more to Israeli causes than Jewish Americans do and have formed strong support groups. With 5 million members, Christians United for Israel, led by San Antonio pastor John Hagee, is thought to be the largest pro-Israel nonprofit in the United States. In 2017, when then-President Donald Trump moved the US Embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, the move was applauded by Christian Zionist supporters, and Hagee spoke at the dedication of the new embassy.

Mordechai Inbari, a professor of religion at the University of North Carolina at Pembroke, said Huckabee’s appointment as US ambassador to Israel would be greeted “with open arms” by the Netanyahu government.

“Huckabee belongs to the network of supporters of Netanyahu and his government among evangelicals and is considered to be a strong supporter of Israel,” said Inbari.

Huckabee was pressed by Israeli radio on Nov. 13 on whether he believed the Trump administration would support annexation by Israel of the occupied territories, principally the West Bank, but also Gaza. He demurred but made it clear that he sees his job as following the decisions made by the president.

“There’s never been an American president,” Huckabee added, “that has been more helpful in securing an understanding of the sovereignty of Israel—from the moving of the embassy, recognition of the Golan Heights, and Jerusalem as the capital, no one has done more than president Trump and I fully expect that will continue.”

Inbari, for one, didn’t think the new Trump administration would rush to see Israel annex the territories. Trump has shown a desire to expand the Mideast peace deal known as the Abraham Accords, inked in his first administration, to include Saudi Arabia. The accords, signed in 2020, normalized Israeli relations with the United Arab Emirates and Bahrain, and later Sudan and Morocco. 

Israel and Saudi Arabia appeared close to a deal in 2023, but the negotiations were derailed by the Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas attack on Israel. Saudi Arabia now insists it will only normalize ties with Israel if there is a pathway for a Palestinian state, which the Israeli government currently rejects. 

“I think Trump would want peace with Saudi Arabia rather than Israel annexing the West Bank,” said Inbari. “And so I don’t think that this is something that’s going to happen.”

Yael Eckstein, president of the IFCJ, who traveled to Israel with Huckabee earlier this year to deliver humanitarian aid there, said the former governor has the best interests of the United States and Israel at heart and she views his new role as ambassador as a good thing. 

“I think it’s wonderful news, not just for Israel, but for America and the entire world,” she said. “Because I think the stronger Israel and America are in their bond and relationship, the stronger the entire world is.”

Luke Moon, executive director of the Philos Project, a pro-Israel group, likewise called Huckabee a good choice. Moon cited Huckabee’s past support for Israel and the fact that as an evangelical, he’s not involved in the internal politics of the American Jewish community.

Moon also said that the Oct. 7 Hamas attack and the war in Gaza—and the campus protests in the US against that war—likely played a role in the 2024 election.

Whether people were voting for Israel or they were opposed to pro-Palestinian protesters on college campuses, said Moon, “either way I’ll take it.”

Brent Leatherwood, president of the Southern Baptist Convention’s Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission, said he was encouraged that Huckabee was one of the first ambassadors to be named by Trump.

“That shows that Israel is top of mind for President-elect Trump,” he said. “I think that is a good thing.”

Culture

Saints Are Strange. Martin Scorsese Gets It.

Contributor

His new docuseries doesn’t explain away the holy weirdness of its subjects.

Joan of Arc in Martin Scorsese Presents: The Saints

Joan of Arc played by Liah O'Prey (center) in Martin Scorsese Presents: The Saints.

Christianity Today November 15, 2024
FOX Nation

This weekend, Martin Scorsese’s docudrama series The Saints will premiere on the streaming service Fox Nation. Four episodes will air leading up to Christmas, then the final four before Easter. I’ve watched two of the episodes—on Joan of Arc and Maximilian Kolbe—in advance. Other featured saints will include John the Baptist, Mary Magdalene, Moses the Black, and Francis of Assisi.

The Saints is not a scholarly or skeptical affair. Rather, it’s an unabashedly Catholic exploration of the lives of saints canonized by Rome, both ancient and contemporary, famous and overlooked.

For readers of Christianity Today, sainthood may elicit confusion, caution, curiosity, or contempt. But Protestants don’t need to keep the saint designation at arm’s length.

An essential thing to recognize about sainthood is that it takes time. The first seeds may be planted early in life, but usually years, even decades, pass before they show signs of growth. The process remains incomplete in this world.

Discerning true holiness in others is therefore always provisional. What Søren Kierkegaard observed about life applies also to sainthood—namely, that though it must be lived forward, it can be understood only backward. Saints are seen in hindsight, not least because in the moment they are most likely to arouse not affection or gratitude but befuddlement and spite.

In any case, holiness—both the gift of it and growth in it—has been at the heart of the Christian life from the beginning. Indeed, it precedes the Christian life; it lies at the very center of the law of Moses.

In Leviticus 19, the Lord commands Moses to say to Israel, “Be holy because I, the Lord your God, am holy” (v. 2). One chapter later, he elaborates: “Consecrate yourselves and be holy, because I am the Lord your God. Keep my decrees and follow them. I am the Lord, who makes you holy” (20:7–8).

Israel’s holiness consisted of at least three components: separation from the nations, obedience to the Lord’s commands, and proper worship rendered to him. The holiness of God’s people would mirror the holiness of God himself.

This vision finds fulfillment in the new covenant. Jesus is the Holy One who, after his resurrection from the dead and ascension into heaven, sent the Holy Spirit of the Father upon Jews gathered from every corner of the globe (Acts 2:1–42). God himself sanctifies his people, as he promised.

This extraordinary gift extends even to Gentiles—the very peoples from whom Israel was set apart—so much so that Peter can write to them as former idolaters to whom the words of Moses now apply: “As he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; for it is written: ‘Be holy, because I am holy’” (1 Pet. 1:15–16).

In the decades and centuries following the apostles, a practice developed in the church by which to name, honor, and remember this sanctifying work of God in women and men who followed Christ to the end of their lives. The apostles had called all believers saints, or “holy ones,” in recognition of the Spirit’s transforming presence in each and every one of the baptized. Now Christians whose faith and love had shone with particular beauty were themselves set apart from the rest of God’s holy people with the honorific Saint, a title that designated an individual retrospectively as a notable recipient or instrument of God’s power.

Two different precedents were at work here. One lay in the New Testament’s celebration of special figures in the Old Testament as precursors of Christ, “types” who pointed forward to the coming of the Messiah. The heroes of faith recounted in Hebrews 11, so memorably described as a “cloud of witnesses” (12:1), encapsulate this pattern.

The idea is not that we possess an exhaustive list of every name of every faithful Israelite. On the contrary, most of the faithful before Christ, as with those since Christ, are unnamed and unremembered (except by the Lord).

The idea instead is that all communities find ways to remember foundational leaders and exemplars in order to hold them up as embodied illustrations of how to live. All the more so for God’s people, sinners that we are. The saints are not so much paragons of virtue as they are vessels of divine grace—flesh-and-blood evidence that our depravity is no match for divine power. By a miracle, holiness is possible in this life.

The second precedent came with martyrdom. Martyr comes from the Greek word for “witness.” Originally applied to the eyewitnesses of the Resurrection, it became a general term for all believers; to follow Christ was to bear witness to him in word and deed. Beginning with Stephen, however, and continuing into the rest of the bloody first century, the word martyr became a title reserved for those who gave their lives for Christ. These were the first to be remembered by name in the liturgies and devotions of the early church; they were the prototype for all the saints to come.

Put it this way: All Christians are lowercase martyrs, witnessing to Christ by their lives, but only some Christians are uppercase Martyrs, witnessing to Christ by their deaths.

In the same way, all Christians are lowercase saints, made holy by the Spirit of Christ, but only some Christians are uppercase Saints, whose holiness so pervaded the course of their lives that the church preserves their memory and offers it as an example to the faithful forever.

Sainthood takes time, in part because it is so strange. Saints do not fit in. Their lives are wild, unruly, and off-putting. They exist on the margins. They dwell in the desert. They see visions and dream dreams. They perform signs and wonders. They are not you and me—at least, not most of the time.

In The Saints, Martin Scorsese is not afraid to portray this alarming strangeness. In fact, the saints’ singular unclassifiable nature is what appears to fascinate him.

Scorsese, who turns 82 on Sunday, has always been haunted by the Catholic faith of his upbringing, growing up in Little Italy before the reforms of the Second Vatican Council. The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) and Silence (2016) might seem like outliers to those familiar only with the filmmaker’s crime and gangster flicks; they are anything but. One could argue that the rest of his filmography cannot be understood except through the prism of these stories and the themes and questions that animate them.

Scorsese is obsessed with the margin: what it defines, what it excludes, and who stands on the outside. Jesus, according to one Catholic scholar, was “a marginal Jew.” He stood at the edge of society. So, in their own way, do killers and hustlers, gangsters and criminals, Portuguese missionaries and members of Osage Nation.

So, too, do Catholic saints. Consider Joan of Arc.

Born just seventy years before Martin Luther, Joan was a French maiden who began having visions that charged her with bringing an end to decades of war in France. She cut her hair, dressed in men’s clothing, and found an audience with Charles VI. Somehow, he heard her out and granted her request. At 16 years old, she led men to battle in one victory after another—within the year Charles was crowned. A little over two decades later, the Hundred Years’ War was over: The English were expelled, civil unrest came to a close, and France was saved.

Unfortunately, Joan had been captured by the enemy in 1430, and after a lengthy series of ecclesiastical trials for heresy (including the charge of dressing like a man), she was burned at the stake on May 30, 1431. Although the charges were overturned by Rome in the 1450s, it was not until 1920 that she was formally canonized as a saint.

What are we to do with a saint like Joan, the Maid of Orleans? Was she delusional? Did she need psychiatric help? Was she a blood-soaked nationalist killing in the name of God? Was she a feminist pioneer ahead of her time? Or was she a French Jael, driving a tent peg through the temple of the English invaders?

Scorsese’s docudrama doesn’t take the bait. There is no explaining away. There is no explaining at all. The supernatural is taken for granted, and the details of the story are left to fend for themselves. They may be challenging to modern mores, but they aren’t taken to require revision. This is the right decision. To remove the strangeness of the saints is to remove their reason for being.

Paul says, “Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ” (1 Cor. 11:1). Pilate said of Christ, “Here is the man” (John 19:5). The saints—and The Saints—put these verses together. They present a man or woman to behold and thereby pose a question: “Is this a specimen of holiness? Is this a vessel of divine grace? Is this an imitation of Christ? Should you, too, follow this one as she or he follows Christ?”

Scorsese and his collaborators are wise to leave the question hanging in the air. The saints are interrogative. They put us in the dock. Joan and John, Peter and Paul, Moses and Monica: these have already heard the divine verdict. You and I are still pilgrims. The story of our lives remains unfinished. In the words of François Mauriac, “It is never too late to become a saint.”

Brad East is an associate professor of theology at Abilene Christian University. He is the author of four books, including The Church: A Guide to the People of God and Letters to a Future Saint.

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