2022-10-04T16:10:00-04:00

Into the void left by the loss of religion has rushed “wellness,” in which devotees seek “to become a new you” by arduous disciplines of “self-care,” featuring ascetic exercise, dietary laws, and magical medicine.  This new religion is also a big business, but, ultimately, it fails its adherents.

This is the thesis of Rina Raphael’s new book The Gospel of Wellness:  Gyms, Gurus, Goop, and the False Promise of Self-Care.  I haven’t read it, though it sounds good, judging from Meghan Cox Gurdon’s review in the Wall Street Journal.

What struck me is a larger truth that the book raises, expressed in a quotation the author gives from the troubled but brilliant contemporary novelist, the late David Foster Wallace. (See his Wikipedia article and read Infinite Jest to see what I mean.)

There is no such thing as not worshiping. Everybody worships.  The only choice we get is what to worship.  And the compelling reason for choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship is that [. . .] anything else you worship will eat you alive.  If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap the real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. . .Worship your own body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly, and when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally plant you.

(From a 2005 commencement address, published as David Foster Wallace on Life and Work in the Wall Street Journal).

That such worship proves futile and self-defeating calls to mind Francis Thompson‘s poem The Hound of Heaven, about his attempts to run away from God, who nevertheless relentlessly pursues him.  The poem explains why the created world cannot satisfy his spiritual hunger.

I tempted all His servitors, but to find
My own betrayal in their constancy,
In faith to Him their fickleness to me. (lines 34-36)

The creation–nature, the body, pleasures, romantic love, friendship, etc., etc.–remains loyal to its Creator, and so will ultimately refuse to be a god.

That “everybody worships” reminds me of what Luther said in the Large Catechism:

 A god means that from which we are to expect all good and to which we are to take refuge in all distress, so that to have a God is nothing else than to trust and believe Him from the [whole] heart; as I have often said that the confidence and faith of the heart alone make both God and an idol. If your faith and trust be right, then is your god also true; and, on the other hand, if your trust be false and wrong, then you have not the true God; for these two belong together, faith and God. That now, I say, upon which you set your heart and put your trust is properly your god. . . .

For no people has ever been so reprobate as not to institute and observe some divine worship; every one has set up as his special god whatever he looked to for blessings, help, and comfort.  (First Commandment,  2-3,17)

 

Photo:  David Foster Wallace by Steve Rhodes, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

2022-10-03T18:21:49-04:00

By 2070, Christianity will decline to the point that Christians will no longer be in the majority in the United States.  So journalists are saying, based on a recent Pew Study.

Now the actual study is a projection based on four scenarios.  And the conclusion is based on the most questionable kinds of predictions:  extrapolating current trends to the nth degree.  This is what computer models do–including those that predict climate Armageddon–but they can never account for all factors and fall far short of proving any kind of objective truth.

But it is true that the number of even nominal Christians is shrinking and that may well continue. That is not a catastrophe for Christians, except for those who believe that numerical growth is the test for whether or not the church is “alive.”  After all, Jesus Himself says, “the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few” (Matthew 7:14).

The thought of Christianity dwindling in America called to mind some lines from my favorite poet–and the subject of my first book–George Herbert.

After he died in 1633 and when his friend Nicholas Ferrar tried to publish his poems, this supreme Christian poet was cancelled, as conservatives call it today.  Or, if you prefer to use the term favored by liberals, his book was banned.  Not because it violated the canons of political correctness or moral rectitude.  But because of these four lines in a 305-line poem entitled “The Church Militant“:

Religion stands on tip-toe in our land,
Readie to passe to the American strand. . . .

Then shall Religion to America flee:
They have their times of Gospel, ev’n as we.  (lines 260-262; 273-274)

The official censors of King Charles I–whose rejection of the freedom of speech, press, and religion would inspire the American founders in the other direction–believed that these lines showed support for the Mayflower pilgrims of 1620 and the other colonists who were moving to America for religious reasons.  Such support, along with the implication that there was something wrong with the Church of England, was not allowed.

Ferrar, who had strong connections himself, persuaded the censor to let it go.  The result was the publication of The Temple, one of the greatest collections of Christian poetry according to both literary and theological standards, a book that all Christians would do well to read.

“The Church Militant” is about the progress of the Church as the Gospel goes out throughout the world, but it is also about its conflict with Sin, which seems to defeat the Church where it once was strong.  Nevertheless, according to Herbert, both the Church and Sin are drawing ever closer to Christ’s return and the final judgment, when the Church will be victorious.

Here is the context of those controversial lines about America:

Religion stands on tip-toe in our land,
Readie to passe to the American strand.
When height of malice, and prodigious lusts,
Impudent sinning, witchcrafts, and distrusts
(The marks of future bane) shall fill our cup
Unto the brimme, and make our measure up;
When Sein shall swallow Tiber, and the Thames
By letting in them both, pollutes her streams:
When Italie of us shall have her will,
And all her calender of sinnes fulfill;
Whereby one may fortell, what sinnes next yeare
Shall both in France and England domineer:
Then shall Religion to America flee:
They have their times of Gospel, ev’n as we.

Malice, lusts, “impudent sinning,” witchcrafts, and distrust–those are clear enough and speak to our own times 400 years later, when religion now seems to be on tip-toe and ready to flee from America.

What’s that about the rivers Seine (in France), Tiber (in Rome), and the Thames (in England)?  Historian of religion Philip Jenkins–in his illuminating paper Then Shall Religion to America Flee:  George Herbert and the Church Militant–says that those lines refer to Herbert’s worry at King Charles I marrying Henrietta Maria, the Catholic daughter of the French King, who was bringing Catholicism to the English court, a religion that Herbert feared was also making inroads to the English church.

Herbert believed that each land would have its opportunity to hear the Gospel.  His poem describes the Gospel–and thus the Church that it creates–going from Jerusalem to Egypt, to Greece, to Rome, to Germany, and to England.  In each of those lands, it would fade after awhile, but now it is about to venture out into America.

Luther sometimes talked that way, warning his fellow Germans that the Gospel that they have started to take for granted may depart from Germany as well.

And, in some sense (but not a total sense), the nations of Europe are bereft of the religion they once cherished, as they lead the world in secularism.  America is far more religious, but will that continue?  Maybe not.  Where will it “flee” now?  Well, as has often been reported, the Gospel and the Church it creates are flourishing in Africa, Asia, Eastern Europe, and–coming full circle, despite intense persecution–in the Middle East.

The Pew Study that projects Christianity’s decline mentions immigration in its scenarios, but associates that with the growth of non-Christian religions.  But it may well be that the immigrants will bring Christianity back to America and even Europe.

 

 

Illustration:  George Herbert by Robert White (1674) via picryl, Public domain

2022-09-29T20:52:01-04:00

As we were discussing the Scandinavian economic system and the Lutheran perspective on politics, I stumbled upon a fascinating article, which led me to some other fascinating scholarship on the Lutheran influence on the distinctive Nordic combination of individualistic capitalism + a generous welfare state funded by high taxes.

It seems that there is, indeed, a distinctly Lutheran approach to capitalism that is different from the Calvinist approach to capitalism as practiced in the English-speaking world.  And a key factor is the difference between the Lutheran and the Reformed doctrine of vocation!

The article is by Mads Larsen of the University of Oslo and is entitled The Lutheran Imaginary That Underpins Social Democracy.

The word “imaginary,” as a noun, is a term in the social sciences meaning “the set of values, institutions, laws, and symbols common to a particular social group and the corresponding society through which people imagine their social whole.”  We might say, using a more familiar term in Christian circles that means about the same thing, “world view.”

It has been said that if you want to look for Lutheran influence, we should look not to Germany–which was home not only to Lutherans but also Catholics, Calvinists, and Union churches that forced Calvinists and Lutherans together at the expense of both of their distinctives, as well as many other religious groups.  But in Scandinavia, for centuries after the Reformation, Lutheranism was just about the only form of Christianity that the Nordic monarchs allowed.  So the distinctly Lutheran cultural influence can be seen.

Larsen discusses the success of the Nordic model and how many Americans admire it, while confusing it with socialism.  But he says that it is not easily exportable because it is grounded in a specifically Lutheran worldview, which looks at economics and political systems in a different way than is common in countries shaped by Catholicism and Calvinism.  He writes, citing the work of other scholars [go to the link for the reference list],

Research reveals that the Nordic Model is undergirded by Lutheran norms and values (Stenius, 1997Kildal and Kuhnle, 2005). The Protestant creed that was nationally embraced only in the Nordic region promotes strong work ethics, egalitarianism, togetherness, and civil duty. These values result in high labor force participation, but also motivate a willingness to cooperate closely at the national level, and to pay high taxes to ensure economic independence for a higher proportion of the population than what is the case in cultures with a Calvinist or Catholic heritage (Kahl, 2009).

Under medieval Catholicism, salvation was, for all practical purposes, by good works, and perhaps the easiest way to rack up good works was by giving alms, so that the poor would line up after church services for the people to give them something.  Luther  taught that we are not saved not by the rote performance of good deeds but by faith in Christ’s atonement for our sins.  Taking care of the poor, Luther taught, should be the concern of the secular government, not the church, as such.  Luther’s view of the priesthood of all believers , which promoted the equality of individuals from all walks of life, was complemented by his teachings about the responsibilities of the state.

Martin Luther promoted that classes be united in a “priesthood of believers.” Such an egalitarian community was to be led by a king who, as head of a powerful state church, should secure every subject’s salvation, but also their education and well-being. The state was meant to “guarantee the existence of a just society,” thus unifying spiritual and secular care. Everyone was responsible for contributing to a state within which all people, from king to beggar, are united by the “common good.” In Catholic societies, the Church was responsible for the poor. Their imaginary promoted that rich people give alms to ease their own way into heaven. The Lutheran safety net was a secular, local, and communal responsibility grounded in “neighborly love” (Lausten, 1995). To provide for those in need, the Lutheran Church, the rich, and regular people pooled resources in a “common fund,” which was the practical expression of poverty relief as a shared responsibility (Tønnessen, 2017).

That “neighborly love,” of course, is at the heart of the doctrine of vocation.  Luther stressed the importance of work, but its purpose is not self-aggrandizement but helping others.

Luther was more skeptical of business ventures and wealthy people. His “employment ethic” contrasts the Calvinist “work ethic.” Instead of promoting hard work to succeed economically, Luther emphasized that employment itself is paramount, as any job can help people feel a sense of ordinariness, fulfillment, and moral satisfaction (McKowen, 2020).

That’s a striking dichtomy:  Luther’s “employment ethic” vs. Calvin’s “work ethic”!  As Max Weber shows, Calvinists often saw wealth as a sign of God’s favor.  Whereas Luther warned against the dangers of wealth.  The Calvinist view of vocation tends to focus on self-fulfillment, employing one’s talents, honoring God, and the moral imperative of the “work ethic.”  Luther’s view of vocation emphasizes how God works through us to provide what others need and that the purpose of every vocation is to love and serve our neighbors.

So in a culture shaped by the “Lutheran imaginary,” workers of all kinds feel an obligation to not only work hard but to care for their fellow citizens and don’t mind paying lots of taxes to enable their government to take care of everyone.  Larsen insists that this is a “liberal” model, valuing individualism, free market economics, and personal freedom–not socialist, and certainly not Marxist, since it emphases co-operation between all levels of society, not class conflict.  “From a liberal perspective,” he comments, “the Nordics’ large-government, high-taxation model restricts individual freedom. From a Nordic perspective, this model makes meaningful freedom possible for more individuals in a given population” (Hänninen et al., 2019).

Larsden supports his thesis by explicating a number of Scandinavian novels and films, which depict a conflict between “good Lutheranism vs. bad Calvinism,” both portrayed in terms of their attitude towards the poor and their social responsibilities.

It turns out, a whole book has been written on this subject, one that connects the dots between Lutheranism and the modern “social democracy.” It’s entitled Lutheranism and the Nordic Spirit of Social Democracy: A Different Protestant Ethic (2017) by University of Maryland political economist Robert H. Nelson.  (See the review by Mark Mattes.)

He goes so far as to engage Max Weber’s pioneering study The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism.  If Calvinism gave us capitalism, as Weber argued, Larsen says that Lutheranism gave us social democracy.

And yet, Larsen says that social democracy as practiced in the Scandinavian countries amounts to “secular Lutheranism.”  That is to say, the supernatural dimension of the theology has faded with the prevailing secularism.  But the social teachings of Lutheranism remain.  Indeed, they take the place of the supernatural church, with citizens finding meaning and transcendent purpose in caring for others and in their social solidarity.

It is as if they are taking Luther’s doctrine of the Two Kingdoms, but they reject the Eternal Kingdom–with the Gospel, the Word of God, and salvation for everlasting life–while still living in accord with the Temporal Kingdom–with vocation, love of neighbor, and its ideal of benevolent government.

Secular Lutheranism is emphatically not the same as religious Lutheranism.  Justification by grace through faith is the article upon which the church stands or falls.  A so-called Lutheranism without the Gospel is an empty shell.  Social democracy without the faith that originally inspired it is also an empty shell.  One wonders how long it can be sustained without any kind of spiritual foundation.  It becomes just another moralism, another confusion of Law and Gospel, another mingling of the Kingdoms, breeding complacency and self-righteousness and evading the need for salvation by Jesus Christ.

Nevertheless, many Americans, both conservatives and progressives, are searching for an economic system that is both free and humane.  Combining free markets with caring for others is the model that many  people today are looking for.  The answer may lie not in Lutheran socialism, but in Lutheran capitalism.

 

Photo:  Nordic Flags [clockwise from left: Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, & Iceland] by miguelb from Prince Rupert, BC, Canada, CC BY-SA 2.5 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5>, via Wikimedia Commons

2022-09-28T17:45:42-04:00

Among Americans today, according to a Pew study, 57% view capitalism favorably, while 36% have a favorable view of socialism.  But that’s down from 65% pro-capitalism and 42% pro-socialism in 2019.  So both economic systems have lost credibility.

Factoring in politics, 78% of Republicans favor capitalism (a decline of only 4%), while 14% favor socialism (a decline of only 1%).  And, indeed, I have heard quite a few conservatives complain about capitalism lately.  (See, for example, this.)  And a majority of Democrats, 57%, favor socialism (a decline of 8%).

When pro-capitalists argue against socialism, they bring up the Soviet Union and the recent economic meltdown in newly-socialist Venezuela.  And the pro-socialists–such as Bernie Sanders–say something like, “Oh, I’m not talking about socialism in those countries.  I’m talking about socialism in Sweden, Denmark, Norway, and Finland.  Look at how well that works!”

J. D. Tucille writes about this in his piece for Reason entitled Declining Faith in Both Capitalism and Socialism Leaves … What?

I would just add that the Nordic political and economic system is sometimes called “Lutheran socialism.”  Yes, for much of their history, pretty much the only church allowed in those Scandinavian lands was Lutheran, which has left a cultural mark even as those countries have now plunged far into secularism.  But is the Nordic model really socialism?  And is it really Lutheran?

Tucille addresses the first question.  He points out that, by objective measures of free market economics, the Scandinavian countries are actually more capitalistic than the United States:

Venezuela’s government has largely seized the means of production and dominates the economy; it’s socialist. The country is ranked at 176 in the 2022 Index of Economic Freedom as a “repressed” economy. By contrast, Finland is ranked at ninth as a “mostly free” economy, along with Denmark (10th), and the United States (25th); all are countries where private enterprise prevails. Yes, both Scandinavian countries are considered somewhat more capitalist than the U.S.

The Index of Economic Freedom is even more telling than Tucille says it is.  If we include Estonia (ranked 7) and Latvia (ranked 18), also northern culturally Lutheran states, all of the seven Nordic countries are in the top 20 (Finland #9; Denmark #10; Sweden #11; Iceland #13; Norway #14.  Which makes them all more capitalist than the United States (#25).

Tucille quotes a former Prime Minister of Denmark:

“I know that some people in the U.S. associate the Nordic model with some sort of socialism. Therefore I would like to make one thing clear. Denmark is far from a socialist planned economy. Denmark is a market economy,” then-Danish Prime Minister Lars Lokke Rasmussen commented in 2015. “The Nordic model is an expanded welfare state which provides a high level of security for its citizens, but it is also a successful market economy with much freedom to pursue your dreams and live your life as you wish.”

But in addition to free market economics, the the Nordic countries, in Tucille’s words, “have expensive welfare states and tax the hell out of their private economies to pay for them.  Rasmussen goes on to explain,

“So, what is the catch you might ask. The most obvious one, of course, is the high taxes. The top income tax in Denmark is almost 60 percent. We have a 25 percent sales tax and on cars the incise duties are up to 180 percent. In total, Danish taxes come to almost half of our national income compared to around 25 percent in the U.S.”

These countries are highly pro-business and personal prosperity is very high.  (When I was in Denmark, I saw more Tesla sports cars than I did in California, even though automobiles are taxed at a rate of 100%, meaning that the $200,000 model would cost a Dane $400,000.  And yet that Dane makes enough to pay it!   Though most Danes settle for small vehicles and bicycles.)

For all of those taxes, Scandinavians get government-paid health care, financial support in caring for children, paid parental leave, money to care for senior citizens, support for the disabled, generous unemployment benefits, job-training, and on and on.  Their so-called “welfare state” is not just a safety net for poor people–though they definitely have that, and a very generous one.  Rather, everyone gets government benefits.  The “welfare state” is called that because the state is oriented to the “welfare” of its citizens.

I’m not advocating that.  We Americans are individualistic and self-reliant, so being dependent on the government grates against our sensibility.  It certainly does mine.  And we conservatives worry about such a big government gaining more and more control over us, overwhelming our freedom, which is one of our prime values.  We want the freedom to have a car!  High taxes interfere with our freedom to choose where our money goes. We don’t have the culture for a welfare state, though the Scandinavian countries do.

For example, if the U.S. government paid unemployment benefits that almost equal what a laid off employee makes working, we wouldn’t work, as happened when the COVID unemployment supplements were greater than many workers’ regular wages.  But in Denmark and other Scandinavian countries, the work ethic is such that the unemployed so supported get a new job as soon as possible, helped by the job-training programs.

So the combination of free market capitalism with high taxes that pay for lavish government-funded benefits is emphatically not socialism. Instead  of  “Lutheran socialism,” the Nordic system should be called “Lutheran capitalism.”

So “Lutheran socialism” is not socialism.  But is it Lutheran?  We’ll delve into that question tomorrow.

 

Photo:  The Streets of Copenhagen by Maria Eklind via Flickr,  Creative Commons 2.0 

 

2022-09-23T19:18:13-04:00

Every two years since 2014, Ligonier ministry, founded by the late R. C. Sproul, has partnered with LifeWay Research  to survey what the general public and evangelicals in particular believe about theology and moral issues.   The results are written up in a report called The State of Theology.  The findings are always instructive and not a little disturbing.  (See my post on the 2020 report.

The State of Theology 2022 is out, and it’s worth reflecting on.  Since we can’t really expect secularists to know much about theology, I want to concentrate our attention on the responses from evangelicals.  LifeWay Research defines “evangelical” as someone who “strongly agrees” with these four statements:

  • The Bible is the highest authority for what I believe.
  • It is very important for me personally to encourage non-Christians to trust Jesus Christ as their Savior.
  • Jesus Christ’s death on the cross is the only sacrifice that could remove the penalty of my sin.
  • Only those who trust in Jesus Christ alone as their Savior receive God’s free gift of eternal salvation.

Other definitions don’t apply to us confessional Lutherans, but this one would seem to.  (That is fitting since Lutherans were the first to be described in that way, back in Reformation times, because of the centrality in their theology of the Gospel, the “evangelium,” or “good news.”)  These criteria also include, of course, the whole gamut of conservative Protestants, from Baptists and Pentecostals to “nondenominational” evangelicals.

So what do Americans who believe in the Bible, evangelism, the atonement, and justification by faith believe in 2022?

Regarding Jesus, 73% of evangelicals strongly or somewhat agree that He is “the first and greatest being created by God.”  That is to say, nearly three-quarters of conservative Christians are Arian heretics!  This was the very issue at the Council of Nicea, which crafted the Nicene Creed, with which we confess that the Son of God is “begotten, not made” and is “of one substance with the Father” (John 3:16, 14:9).

A whopping 43% of evangelicals agree that “Jesus was a great teacher, but he was not God.”  This is a significant jump in unbelief from 2020, in which 30% rejected the deity of Christ, a number that shocked me back then.

Another confusion about the Trinity is that 60% believe that  “The Holy Spirit is a force but is not a personal being.”  This is the heresy of Macedonianism.

As for God the Father, 48% believe that  “God learns and adapts to different circumstances.”

Evangelicals are thought of as having a zeal to evangelize, but 56% agree that “God accepts the worship of all religions, including Christianity, Judaism and Islam.”  In 2020, the percentage was a bad-enough 42%, but now more than half of evangelicals think “all religions” are acceptable to God.

But why not?  According to 57 percent of evangelicals, “Everyone sins a little, but most people are good by nature.”  And 65% believe that “Everyone is born innocent in the eyes of God.”  So if everyone is so good, why do they need to be saved?  And why did Jesus die?

You can read the results of the other questions here.

It is not all bad news.  Despite their Arianism, 92% believe in the Trinity.   Despite their low view of Jesus, 90% believe He rose from the dead.  Despite their belief in human goodness, 80% believe in justification by faith.

Also, the evangelicals surveyed are surprisingly strong on moral issues:  97% agree that “God created male and female”; 67% believe that the Bible’s condemnation of homosexual behavior still applies today; 59% deny that gender identity is a matter of choice; 91% agree that abortion is a sin; 94% believe that sex outside of marriage is a sin.

How do we account for these numbers?

Russell Moore, the Trump critic and new editor-in-chief of Christianity Today, observes that in evangelical circles, theological orthodoxy now takes a back seat to political orthodoxy.  That might help explain why evangelicals have stronger numbers on moral issues that have become flashpoints in the culture war–such as abortion, gender, homosexuality, and illicit sex.  I don’t know about that.  I think there is a larger perception that Christianity has more to do with Law than Gospel.  As a result, it’s easier to focus on bad works and good works (“most people are good by nature”) than it is to come to grips with who Jesus is.

My impression is that bits of theology that can be reduced to a memorable term, such as “Trinity,” are accepted, while the specifics of what that term means (the deity of Christ, the personhood of the Holy Spirit) are not understood.  The problem is theological illiteracy.  And since most evangelical congregations do not use the historic creeds and many are “non-denominational,” they tend not to teach actual theology.  (Though I shudder at what the results might be in our creedal and theological churches as well.)  While we aren’t saved by our theological understanding as such, in times when Christianity is under attack, theology becomes more important than ever.  Theological illiteracy is a major problem that pastors and congregations would do well to address.

 

HT:  Dr. Stephen Nichols

 

Illustration:  Arius the Heretic (1493) by the workshop of  Michel Wolgemut, print maker, Duits (1434–1519), in Rijksmuseum, Public Domain, via Look and Learn, History Picture Archive.

2022-09-26T16:36:32-04:00

September 22 marked the 231st anniversary of the birth of Michael Faraday (1791-1867), the British scientist whose discoveries and inventions gave birth to much of the technology we enjoy today.

Faraday worked out that if you move a loop of copper wires around a magnet, you can generate electricity, a discovery that led to the electrification of the world.

He also worked out the converse of this electrical generation, that electricity going through a loop of copper wires can make a magnet spin, creating the electric motor.  This is the device that runs virtually all of the gadgets we depend on today–vacuum cleaners, dishwashers, refrigerators, air conditioners; power tools and factory equipment; printing presses and computer printers; mass transit and electric cars.

Faraday also discovered that you can run electricity through a long wire to an electromagnetic relay switch on the other end, so that you can make things happen at long distances.  Faraday first demonstrated this effect by ringing a bell.  This effect developed into the telegraph, then the telephone, then the television, then—using Faraday’s theories of induction–wireless devices.

Those same electromagnetic relay switches, with open representing zero and closed representing one, gave us the first electronic computers, the switches later miniaturized–drawing on other of Faraday’s principles–onto semiconductor chips.

So every time you turn on the lights, run an appliance, adjust your thermostat, call someone on the phone, turn on your computer, charge up your computer or your phone by plugging it into an outlet in your home, or use just about any other piece of modern technology, thank Michael Faraday.

And Faraday was not just an inventor but an important experimental scientist, whose findings would lead other scientists to discovery after discovery, to this very day.  In physics, he was the first to identify and describe the workings of electromagnetic fields.  He also made extensive contributions to chemistry, from electrolysis to the bunsen burner.  Just read his Wikipedia article and marvel at his contributions.

According to that article, Einstein kept a picture of Faraday in his study.  Ernest Rutherford, the father of nuclear physics, said of him,”When we consider the magnitude and extent of his discoveries and their influence on the progress of science and of industry, there is no honour too great to pay to the memory of Faraday, one of the greatest scientific discoverers of all time.”

Andy Kessler, writing in the Wall Street Journal, pays tribute to Faraday in his opinion piece (behind a paywall) A Faraday Is Worth 1,000 Faucis, with the deck “The inventor of the dynamo would have plenty to say about our scientific ‘experts.’”

Kessler addresses data showing that the public’s trust in science has declined dramatically, something he attributes to the COVID pandemic, with its contradictory and counterfactual proclamations from “the Science,” which often tried to silence researchers who questioned the party line.  He gives other examples of scientific malpractice, from the intrusion of woke ideology into the profession to the replication crisis in academic journals.

Faraday, though, according to Kessler, was a different breed.  He goes over some of the accomplishments I list above and gives some great quotations from Faraday, showing his humility and open-mindedness:

“A man who is certain he is right is almost sure to be wrong.”

“I could trust a fact and always cross-question an assertion.”

“He is the wisest philosopher who holds his theory with some doubt.”

“Nothing is too wonderful to be true, if it be consistent with the laws of nature.”

What Kessler does not get into, however, is that Faraday, one of the greatest scientists of all time who can be thought of as the father of our modern technology, was also a devout Christian.  Not only that, Faraday was a fundamentalist.

By that, I do not mean anything pejorative, as the word is often used today, but in the literal sense of the term.  Faraday was a life-long member–indeed, an elder–in the Sandemanian or Glasite church, a sect, named after their founders, devoted to a literal interpretation of Scripture, separatism from the world and from other Christians (holding to both closed communion and the rejection of prayer fellowship), and strict requirements for all members.

According to the Wikipedia article on the sect, the Sandemanians (as they were called in England and America) agreed mostly with the Westminster Confession, the Calvinist statement of faith of the Church of Scotland from which the movement broke away, except with its teachings on the church and civil government.  They also had an idiosyncratic view of faith, which they understood as simply intellectual assent.

They had problems with wealth and “worldliness”–Faraday refused a knighthood and other honors–and demanded that members attend all of the church’s meetings.  Faraday once missed a “Love feast”–a church dinner, held in addition to the Lord’s Supper–because he had been summoned to an audience before Queen Victoria, and was excommunicated for awhile not just for missing the dinner but for arguing that he had to obey his monarch, which violated the church’s teachings about the civil magistrate.  He was later re-instated.  The denomination is now said to be extinct.  (For discussions of Faraday’s faith and its relationship to his scientific work, see this and this.)

Can a Christian be a scientist?  Can a scientist be a Christian?  Can a conservative Christian be a scientist?  Can a scientist be a conservative Christian?  Evidently so.

I’ll close with one of Faraday’s many Christian quotes:

“No outward manifestation can give either instruction or assurance to him, nor can any outward opposition or trouble diminish his confidence for Christ crucified, to the Jews a stumbling block and to the Greeks foolishness; but to them who are called, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. The Christian religion is a revelation and that revelation is the Word of God.”

 

Illustration:  Michael Faraday (1842) by Thomas Phillips, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

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