Written by Aaron M. Renn |
Friday, October 25, 2024
Evangelicalism’s culture is not even contiguous with that of mainline Protestantism, much less classical Protestantism. It is very populist and dominated by charismatic pitchman type pastors. It tends to emphasize a therapeutic gospel over a strict ethic. In fact, any type of moral or behavioral code followed too seriously is likely to draw a caution for being legalistic. It’s very aligned with American consumer culture, and American culture generally. And of course it is anti-intellectual, something well-documented in such work as Mark Noll’s The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind.

Reading James Davison Hunter’s Democracy and Solidarity rekindled a feeling that I’ve had many times before in reading books like this. Every time I read a book that describes the religious history of America that talks about the nature of Protestantism in the country, it strikes me that the Protestantism of the American past is alien to today’s evangelicalism. They are different enough to raise the question as to whether or not American evangelicalism is actually Protestant in important ways.
Hunter writes in his book:
For most Americans—whether deist or Calvinist, rationalist and intellectual or revivalist and popular, high church establishmentarian or sectarian—there was a God more or less active in the universe and in human affairs. Indeed, this God was, for most, Christian and, even more, Protestant. Though hegemonic and certainly oppressive to those who dissented, this belief nevertheless provided a language and an ontology that framed understandings of both public and private life. And yet this was also a culture, following Weber and so many others, that was inner-worldly in its orientation and ascetic in its general ethical disposition, an ethic that shunned extravagance, opulence, and self-indulgence and prized hard work, discipline, and utility. In ethics it was individualistic, to be sure, but informed by biblical and republican traditions that tempered individual interest and moved it toward the public interest and common goods. [emphasis added]
It’s certainly hard to argue that contemporary American culture generally, or evangelicalism in particular, are ascetic and oriented towards a traditional disciplined WASP ethic. Undoubtedly, they are if not opulent, consumerist in orientation. I’d be lying if I said I were any different.
You see this change in ethical outlook on life in basically any book on the topic. It’s a move away from the old Calvinist outlook and behaviors and towards modern American post-bourgeois consumerism.
In his famous The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, Max Weber describes how Calvinism’s concept of calling and election – which he distinguishes from that of Lutheranism – led to furious activity to attempt to objectively demonstrate that one was among the elect.
The religious believer can make himself sure of his state of grace either in that he feels himself to be the vessel of the Holy Spirit or the tool of the divine will. In the former case his religious life tends to mysticism and emotionalism, in the latter to ascetic action; Luther stood close to the former type, Calvinism belonged definitely to the latter. The Calvinist also wanted to be saved sola fide. But since Calvin viewed all pure feelings and emotions, no matter how exalted they might seem to be, with suspicion, faith had to be proved by its objective results in order to provide a firm foundation for the certitudo salutis….Thus, however useless good works might be as a means of attaining salvation, for even the elect remain beings of the flesh, and everything they do falls infinitely short of divine standards, nevertheless, they are indispensable as a sign of election. They are the technical means, not of purchasing salvation, but of getting rid of the fear of damnation.
He describes how this manifested itself in various ways, such as in the Puritan ethics of Richard Baxter:
Waste of time is thus the first and in principle the deadliest of sins. The span of human life is infinitely short and precious to make sure of one’s own election. Loss of time through sociability, idle talk, luxury, even more sleep than is necessary for health, six to at most eight hours, is worthy of absolute moral condemnation. It does not yet hold, with [Benjamin] Franklin, that time is money, but the proposition is true in a certain spiritual sense. It is infinitely valuable because every hour lost is lost to labour for the glory of God. Thus inactive contemplation is also valueless, or even directly reprehensible if it is at the expense of one’s daily work. For it is less pleasing to God than the active performance of His will in a calling. Besides, Sunday is provided for that, and, according to Baxter, it is always those who are not diligent in their callings who have no time for God when the occasion demands it.
The mention of Benjamin Franklin shows that this was one form in which these values were transmitted to American culture. Again, far from contemporary America, which puts a high premium on leisure and consumption over asceticism and production.
Weber’s book is actually short and readable, so is very much worth picking up.
We see the same in French writer Emmanuel Todd’s provocative book The Defeat of the West, which I wrote about earlier this year. Todd sees Protestantism as the foundation of the modern West, and describes it similarly to Weber:
Let us conclude our review of the main characteristics of Protestantism. It is an ethic of work: we are not on earth to have fun, but to work and save. Here we are at the antipodes of the consumer society. Protestantism has also long been synonymous with sexual puritanism.
He sees the collapse of Protestantism as the core factor in the decline of the West, one which lies underneath many of today’s social pathologies.
The original religious matrix was slowly built between the end of the Roman Empire and the central Middle Ages, and then ultimately thickened by the Protestant Reformation and the Catholic Counter-Reformation.
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An intelligent designer might seem more necessary than ever now that we understand so much cellular biology, and the impossibly long odds facing any attempt to design proteins by chance, or assemble the regulatory mechanisms that control the life cycle of a cell. Meyer doesn’t reject Darwinian evolution. He only rejects it as a sufficient theory of life as we know it. He’s made a painstaking investigation of Darwin’s theory and has rejected it for many good reasons that he has carefully explained. He didn’t rush to embrace intelligent design. Just the opposite. But the explosion of detailed, precise information that was necessary to build the brand-new Cambrian organisms, and the fact that the information was encoded, represented symbolically, in DNA nucleotides, suggests to Meyer that an intelligent designer must have been responsible.

Darwinian evolution is a brilliant and beautiful scientific theory. Once it was a daring guess. Today it is basic to the credo that defines the modern worldview. Accepting the theory as settled truth—no more subject to debate than the earth being round or the sky blue or force being mass times acceleration—certifies that you are devoutly orthodox in your scientific views; which in turn is an essential first step towards being taken seriously in any part of modern intellectual life. But what if Darwin was wrong?
Like so many others, I grew up with Darwin’s theory, and had always believed it was true. I had heard doubts over the years from well-informed, sometimes brilliant people, but I had my hands full cultivating my garden, and it was easier to let biology take care of itself. But in recent years, reading and discussion have shut that road down for good.
This is sad. It is no victory of any sort for religion. It is a defeat for human ingenuity. It means one less beautiful idea in our world, and one more hugely difficult and important problem back on mankind’s to-do list. But we each need to make our peace with the facts, and not try to make life on earth simpler than it really is.
Charles Darwin explained monumental change by making one basic assumption—all life-forms descend from a common ancestor—and adding two simple processes anyone can understand: random, heritable variation and natural selection. Out of these simple ingredients, conceived to be operating blindly over hundreds of millions of years, he conjured up change that seems like the deliberate unfolding of a grand plan, designed and carried out with superhuman genius. Could nature really have pulled out of its hat the invention of life, of increasingly sophisticated life-forms and, ultimately, the unique-in-the-cosmos (so far as we know) human mind—given no strategy but trial and error? The mindless accumulation of small changes? It is an astounding idea. Yet Darwin’s brilliant and lovely theory explains how it could have happened.
Its beauty is important. Beauty is often a telltale sign of truth. Beauty is our guide to the intellectual universe—walking beside us through the uncharted wilderness, pointing us in the right direction, keeping us on track—most of the time.
Demolishing a Worldview
There’s no reason to doubt that Darwin successfully explained the small adjustments by which an organism adapts to local circumstances: changes to fur density or wing style or beak shape. Yet there are many reasons to doubt whether he can answer the hard questions and explain the big picture—not the fine-tuning of existing species but the emergence of new ones. The origin of species is exactly what Darwin cannot explain.
Stephen Meyer’s thoughtful and meticulous Darwin’s Doubt (2013) convinced me that Darwin has failed. He cannot answer the big question. Two other books are also essential: The Deniable Darwin and Other Essays (2009), by David Berlinski, and Debating Darwin’s Doubt (2015), an anthology edited by David Klinghoffer, which collects some of the arguments Meyer’s book stirred up. These three form a fateful battle group that most people would rather ignore. Bringing to bear the work of many dozen scientists over many decades, Meyer, who after a stint as a geophysicist in Dallas earned a Ph.D. in History and Philosophy of Science from Cambridge and now directs the Discovery Institute’s Center for Science and Culture, disassembles the theory of evolution piece by piece. Darwin’s Doubt is one of the most important books in a generation. Few open-minded people will finish it with their faith in Darwin intact.
Meyer doesn’t only demolish Darwin; he defends a replacement theory, intelligent design (I.D.). Although I can’t accept intelligent design as Meyer presents it, he does show that it is a plain case of the emperor’s new clothes: it says aloud what anyone who ponders biology must think, at some point, while sifting possible answers to hard questions. Intelligent design as Meyer explains it never uses religious arguments, draws religious conclusions, or refers to religion in any way. It does underline an obvious but important truth: Darwin’s mission was exactly to explain the flagrant appearance of design in nature.
The religion is all on the other side. Meyer and other proponents of I.D. are the dispassionate intellectuals making orderly scientific arguments. Some I.D.-haters have shown themselves willing to use any argument—fair or not, true or not, ad hominem or not—to keep this dangerous idea locked in a box forever. They remind us of the extent to which Darwinism is no longer just a scientific theory but the basis of a worldview, and an emergency replacement religion for the many troubled souls who need one.
As for Biblical religion, it forces its way into the discussion although Meyer didn’t invite it, and neither did Darwin. Some have always been bothered by the harm Darwin is said to have done religion. His theory has been thought by some naïfs (fundamentalists as well as intellectuals) to have shown or alleged that the Bible is wrong, and Judeo-Christian religion bunk. But this view assumes a childishly primitive reading of Scripture. Anyone can see that there are two different creation stories in Genesis, one based on seven days, the other on the Garden of Eden. When the Bible gives us two different versions of one story, it stands to reason that the facts on which they disagree are without basic religious significance. The facts on which they agree are the ones that matter: God created the universe, and put man there for a reason. Darwin has nothing to say on these or any other key religious issues.
Fundamentalists and intellectuals might go on arguing these things forever. But normal people will want to come to grips with Meyer and the downfall of a beautiful idea. I will mention several of his arguments, one of them in (just a bit of) detail. This is one of the most important intellectual issues of modern times, and every thinking person has the right and duty to judge for himself.
Looking for Evidence
Darwin himself had reservations about his theory, shared by some of the most important biologists of his time. And the problems that worried him have only grown more substantial over the decades. In the famous “Cambrian explosion” of around half a billion years ago, a striking variety of new organisms—including the first-ever animals—pop up suddenly in the fossil record over a mere 70-odd million years. This great outburst followed many hundreds of millions of years of slow growth and scanty fossils, mainly of single-celled organisms, dating back to the origins of life roughly three and half billion years ago.
Darwin’s theory predicts that new life forms evolve gradually from old ones in a constantly branching, spreading tree of life. Those brave new Cambrian creatures must therefore have had Precambrian predecessors, similar but not quite as fancy and sophisticated. They could not have all blown out suddenly, like a bunch of geysers. Each must have had a closely related predecessor, which must have had its own predecessors: Darwinian evolution is gradual, step-by-step. All those predecessors must have come together, further back, into a series of branches leading down to the (long ago) trunk.
But those predecessors of the Cambrian creatures are missing. Darwin himself was disturbed by their absence from the fossil record. He believed they would turn up eventually. Some of his contemporaries (such as the eminent Harvard biologist Louis Agassiz) held that the fossil record was clear enough already, and showed that Darwin’s theory was wrong. Perhaps only a few sites had been searched for fossils, but they had been searched straight down. The Cambrian explosion had been unearthed, and beneath those Cambrian creatures their Precambrian predecessors should have been waiting—and weren’t. In fact, the fossil record as a whole lacked the upward-branching structure Darwin predicted.
The trunk was supposed to branch into many different species, each species giving rise to many genera, and towards the top of the tree you would find so much diversity that you could distinguish separate phyla—the large divisions (sponges, mosses, mollusks, chordates, and so on) that comprise the kingdoms of animals, plants, and several others—take your pick. But, as Berlinski points out, the fossil record shows the opposite: “representatives of separate phyla appearing first followed by lower-level diversification on those basic themes.” In general, “most species enter the evolutionary order fully formed and then depart unchanged.” The incremental development of new species is largely not there. Those missing pre-Cambrian organisms have still not turned up. (Although fossils are subject to interpretation, and some biologists place pre-Cambrian life-forms closer than others to the new-fangled Cambrian creatures.)
Some researchers have guessed that those missing Precambrian precursors were too small or too soft-bodied to have made good fossils. Meyer notes that fossil traces of ancient bacteria and single-celled algae have been discovered: smallness per se doesn’t mean that an organism can’t leave fossil traces—although the existence of fossils depends on the surroundings in which the organism lived, and the history of the relevant rock during the ages since it died. The story is similar for soft-bodied organisms. Hard-bodied forms are more likely to be fossilized than soft-bodied ones, but many fossils of soft-bodied organisms and body parts do exist. Precambrian fossil deposits have been discovered in which tiny, soft-bodied embryo sponges are preserved—but no predecessors to the celebrity organisms of the Cambrian explosion.
This sort of negative evidence can’t ever be conclusive. But the ever-expanding fossil archives don’t look good for Darwin, who made clear and concrete predictions that have (so far) been falsified—according to many reputable paleontologists, anyway. When does the clock run out on those predictions? Never. But any thoughtful person must ask himself whether scientists today are looking for evidence that bears on Darwin, or looking to explain away evidence that contradicts him. There are some of each. Scientists are only human, and their thinking (like everyone else’s) is colored by emotion.
The Advent of Molecular Biology
Darwin’s main problem, however, is molecular biology. There was no such thing in his own time. We now see from inside what he could only see from outside, as if he had developed a theory of mobile phone evolution without knowing that there were computers and software inside or what the digital revolution was all about. Under the circumstances, he did brilliantly.
Biology in his time was for naturalists, not laboratory scientists. Doctor Dolittle was a naturalist. (He is the hero of the wonderful children’s books by Hugh Lofting, now unfortunately nearing extinction.) The doctor loved animals and understood them, and had a sharp eye for all of nature not too different from Wordsworth’s or Goethe’s. But the character of the field has changed, and it’s not surprising that old theories don’t necessarily still work.
Darwin’s theory is simple to grasp; its simplicity is the heart of its brilliance and power. We all know that variation occurs naturally among individuals of the same type—white or black sheep, dove-gray versus off-white or pale beige pigeons, boring and sullen undergraduates versus charming, lissome ones. We all know that many variations have no effect on a creature’s prospects, but some do. A sheep born with extra-warm wool will presumably do better at surviving a rough Scottish winter than his normal-wooled friends. Such a sheep would be more likely than normal sheep to live long enough to mate, and pass on its superior trait to the next generation. Over millions of years, small good-for-survival variations accumulate, and eventually (says Darwin) you have a brand new species. The same mechanism naturally favors genes that are right for the local environment—warm wool in Scotland, light and comfortable wool for the tropics, other varieties for mountains and deserts. Thus one species (your standard sheep) might eventually become four specialized ones. And thus new species should develop from old in the upward-branching tree pattern Darwin described.
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One thing both traditional and contemporary churches could agree on is the participation of church members in congregational singing. If unity cannot be found here, then the issues that divide are presuppositional and theological. The Church, whether Presbyterian or not, is divided about music, but it is certain that all of us will be singing the same words and tunes before the Throne, but could we not make an effort to unify on congregants singing in worship? 

As was noted in the post, “Contemporary Christian Church Music,” which provided a transcription of an article by T. E. Peck and Stuart Robinson—worship of the Lord in song has been a controversial subject particularly since the gradual transition from exclusive psalmody in the eighteenth century to inclusion of hymns by composers such as Isaac Watts. The words of Ephesians 5:19, “psalms and hymns and spiritual songs,” have been interpreted differently by those using Psalms alone and those who include hymns with Psalms.
The transcription that follows is from the minutes of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America, Old School, General Assembly of 1849, and it addresses this controversy. A committee had been appointed to make recommendations regarding church music, and it appears, though I am not certain, there were no ruling elders seated. The Committee on  Church Music had been appointed the previous year by Moderator Alexander T. McGill but its membership changed as some appointees were excused and others were given their seats. When the report was submitted, it was signed by the following members:: John M. Krebs, (Rutgers Street Church, New York) James W. Alexander (Duane Street Church, New York), Daniel V. McLean (Freehold, New Jersey), William S. Plumer (Franklin Street Church, Baltimore), Gardiner Spring (Brick Church, New York), George Potts (University Place Church, New York), Willis Lord (Penn Square Church, Philadelphia), Charles C. Beatty (Second Church, Steubenville, Ohio), and William Jeffery (Bethany Church, Herriottsville, Pennsylvania).
What specifically was the committee to address regarding church music?
In 1843 the Old School Presbyterian Board of Publication issued Psalms and Hymns Adapted to Social, Private and Public Worship in the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America, which was printed in Philadelphia. It included the complete Psalter of Isaac Watts followed by 680 hymns. In a modern hymnal the music is provided with the words but in earlier hymnals, as with this one, only the words are given. Each hymn is headed with a few words describing its topic and a notation regarding the meter to which it is sung. The hymns are not titled. This seems unusual today given hymnals have the words and music for each one and a title, but the 1843 hymnal shows the transition from Psalm singing alone to Psalms and hymns. Psalms for singing simply had the number of the Psalm, the meter, and then the words. The brief preface to the 798-page collection expressed the hope that—
The collection itself comprehends what were supposed [assumed] to be the best hymns in the one now in use, with a large addition from other sources, and in sufficient variety, it is presumed, to meet all the wants of worshippers.
Unfortunately, the hymnal did not “meet all the wants of worshippers,” which resulted in the appointment of the Committee on Church Music. The instrument by which the church music issue came to the floor of the Assembly was an overture from the Synod of Philadelphia which the Committee on Bills and Overtures reviewed and then made its recommendation.
[To] report to the next General Assembly upon the general subject of congregational singing, suggesting such scriptural measures as may seem calculated to improve it, and such remedies of existing evils as the case may seem to require. The recommendation was adopted.
The primary concern for the Committee on Church Music was improving congregational singing during worship on the Lord’s Day. As an aside, it is interesting that the 1843 hymnal designates one section “For the Lord’s Day” and not “For the Sabbath,” as might be expected. The secondary concern for the Committee was “preparation of a book of tunes adapted to our present psalmody.” Presumably, the thinking was, if tunes were more singable for the average non-musically trained congregant to sing, then more people would sing.
Congregational participation in singing is clearly not a new problem. Robinson-Peck and the report of the Committee on Church Music that follows this introduction mention factors contributing to lack of participation such as overemphasizing the choir, viewing worship music as entertainment, and the use of hired professional non-congregation members to bolster (supplant?) the congregation. On several occasions, while traveling I have worshipped in other Presbyterian churches and noticed that people simply do not sing. It is not a matter of a few here and there not singing, but instead a few here and there are singing. This is true of churches whether they are considered traditional or contemporary (these terms are used reluctantly for convenience), but it seems the more music is emphasized in a service, ironically, the less the participation of the congregation. Though the number appears to be waning, there are churches that have singing congregants. I have the privilege of membership with a congregation that sings well with a skilled director and talented accompanists under the oversight of elders who are concerned for regulated worship. Worship is not a traditional vs. contemporary issue; worship is a theological issue in that its purpose is glorifying God as we enjoy Him within the limits of liturgy given in Scripture.
I said in my introduction to the Robinson-Peck post that the Old School took a moderate position regarding the issue of church music. What I mean by moderate is the Old School did not limit its worship music to Psalms, but instead combined hymns of contemporary composition with those of the past. The addition of hymns is not only appropriate but necessary. But this raises some questions. Which hymns are to be added? What is the standard to be used (of course, Scripture, but how)? Is there an essential core of hymns that must never be removed? Are there tunes that are unacceptable, and if so, what makes them unacceptable for worship (sexual beat, originally used with worldly or atheistic lyrics)? Can adding new hymns work against the goal of united congregational singing; can removing old hymns likewise reduce congregational singing? Are the older members of congregations to be left out as too much emphasis is placed on new words and tunes (the age demographic of the United States is increasing )? Those who sing the Psalms exclusively have an advantage because the words of their worship in music are fixed, but they too may face the challenge of congregants wanting the words of Psalms updated with more up-to-date tunes. Church history, unfortunately, is often the study of division whether it was the Christological issues of the ancient church, division with the Reformation, the Old and New Schools, and many others. The issue of church music divides us as well. However, one thing both traditional and contemporary churches could agree on is the participation of church members in congregational singing. If unity cannot be found here, then the issues that divide are presuppositional and theological. The Church, whether Presbyterian or not, is divided about music, but it is certain that all of us will be singing the same words and tunes before the Throne, but could we not make an effort to unify on congregants singing in worship.
With regard to the report that follows, I found some of the comments objectionable not necessarily because of what was said but because of the way it was said. The General Assembly is the highest earthly court of the Presbyterian Church and its decency and honor should be beyond the expected in all matters. Intemperance, personal attacks, sarcasm, smart-aleck jabs, and patronizing comments have no place in the Church in general but especially in gatherings of presbyters.
Barry Waugh
Report of The Committee on Church Music
The Committee on the subject of Sacred Music, appointed by the General Assembly last year (see Minutes, A. D. 1848, pp. 18 and 55) respectfully report, that six members of the Committee, viz. the Chairman, and Messrs. Plumer, Potts, Lord, McKinley, and McNair, met, agreeably to appointment at Philadelphia on the 20th day of February last, and proceeded to the consideration of the duty which had been confided to them. After making some progress therein, the Committee, having sat through three days, adjourned, referring the further prosecution and completion of the work to the members residing in the city of New York, and authorizing them to present the result of their labors to the next Assembly.
At the commencement of their sessions, the Committee were occupied with a question concerning the extent of their powers. The overture from the Synod of Philadelphia, (see overture, number 3, Minutes, 1848, p. 18,) contemplated the appointment of “a committee to take into consideration the subject of Church Music, with special reference to the preparation of a book of tunes adapted to our present psalmody.” The Assembly’s resolution, appointing the Committee, conferred upon it no other power, expressly, than “to report to the next General Assembly, upon the general subject of congregational singing, suggesting such scriptural measures as may seem calculated to improve it, and such remedies of existing evils as the case may seem to require.” While the overture appears to embrace two points, viz. a report upon the subject, and some provision for a book of tunes, the act of the Assembly authorizes a mere report, with suggestions on certain specified points, and makes no express reference to the preparation of a book of tunes.
On the first point submitted to their consideration, the Committee offer the following remarks:
There are different opinions, in various parts of the Church, in regard to the present state of congregational singing. What the taste and usages of the churches, in one section, may highly approve, other churches, possibly, would disapprove. Conformity, in all points of opinion and practice, is, perhaps—nay, most probably—unattainable. And, in cases wherein the differences arise, not in view of unmistakable decisions of the Bible, or of our Standards, but simply from considerations of taste, convenience, longer or shorter usage, and varying application, and, indeed, varying interpretation, of the notices of this subject which are contained in the sacred oracles, much must necessarily be left to the mutual forbearance and conceded Christian liberty of God’s people. These diversities may be either rendered more tolerable, or altogether removed, by increasing intercourse and communion, by frank and friendly comparison of views, and by the influence of that more extended public discussion, which the subject is evidently destined to receive. Without entering that discussion here, or indicating any opinion, beyond that which we have just expressed; the Committee deem it to be incumbent on them to notice some other points, on which, as it seems to them, there is occasion for present animadversion.
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