A 🧵, as I get ready to post my @TGC essay likely one final time. I should say I’ve had some really encouraging and thoughtful comments come my way today.
I’ve also had some rather atrocious hot takes— the kind where it’s clear the person didn’t really read what was written, but read what they wanted to see and then started typing away. I see such non-reads fairly regularly in the classroom and they’re easy enough to engage.
My favorite reaction so far is the guy (yes, nearly always a guy) who wrote that I really needed to do more research (yes, don’t we all? Like a little research might make him aware of the 20 years I’ve been addressing this topic).
He then referred me to a blogpost written by a prominent evangelical pastor a full decade (yes, 10 years) AFTER my book was published through a standard peer review process by one of the premier academic presses and series.
I knew said blogpost and several others like it. That pastor, alongside whom I was presented (yes, do your research), who unleashed his minions on me at a conference in the early 2000s and who still hasn’t engaged my work in the 10 years it’s been out.
The guy today did refer, at least, to a scholarly article that (had he read my work) he would know I dealt with in detail in my epilogue—since my book ends before the time period that really fine analysis covers.
Unbeknownst to that guy today, though, I especially know what that earlier article covers because originally it was going to be in my dissertation and book in more detail.
That fact changed, though, when the authors decided to use some of the materials I’d uncovered in the archives and ideas we’d discussed together for their own article (yes, live and learn in academia). But, yeah, research.
I’m grateful, in sum, to @IvanTable and @TGC for the opportunity to contribute something in a place that is a little out of my regular wheelhouse. And I’m thankful for the way they mainly let me shape things the way I wanted—even if we both knew some feathers would get ruffled.
So, un the end: read, think, learn, engage.
And most of all (given that I’m so fortunate to be doing work that I really love): Enjoy.
🧵: Outside of the few racist (and I use that word intentionally) emails/replies I got yesterday (it really amazes what people will admit), the ones that actually interested me were when people took issue with my reading JE in light of Baldwin and Berry.
As a historian, I find this thinking often in the classroom. “This is a history course,” says the student, “why am I reading fiction or philosophy or whatever.” I think people really believe history is simply about dates and such and not a full-orbed effort to analyze a subject.
Some of those replies also assumed Berry and Baldwin wouldn’t approve. Now, I can’t speak for Baldwin. I’ve only met him through his words. And I try to share his challenging and eloquent words with others every chance I get.
Most days I don’t label myself an #exvangelical. And then most days I see a story or tweet (too often from people I know and whom I wrongly hoped knew better) that makes me pretty sure I’d probably rather label myself an #exvangelical.
Such conflicting sentiments came to the forefront of my thinking and writing when @IvanTable approached me a month or so ago about a piece for him and @TGC. Today, that essay (with its deliciously bland title—why are titles often so blah?) meets the rest of the world.
Ostensibly on the ways evangelicals ought to treat Jonathan Edwards the enslaver, I turn to James Baldwin & Wendell Berry to offer some thoughts on history versus “heritage,” maybe allowing me to forestall a decision about such a label and personal identity a little while longer.
While this thread of tweets is aimed in some ways at particular followers, I certainly hope others will perhaps join in the sentiment and call for a similar response in your circle of followers.
My morning Twitter scrolling spiraled earlier today when I came across the letter I am sharing here—a letter that was sent to @pastordmack, a Black Southern Baptist (for now) pastor in Arlington, Texas.
Now, I’m not going to comment on the content of the letter. To do so would multiply the tweets in this thread. Suffice it to say, nearly every word of the letter is beyond vile and the entire tone of the thing makes up for those few words that might not be beyond vile.
So, (making certain I understand) when English puritan Paul Bayne uses the idea of “white” (read whiteness) to identify internal and external obedience in his 1643 treatment of Ephesians, he’s all Marxist, postmodern, and incompatible with the gospel, right? #criticalracetheory
What about Bostonian puritan Cotton Mather when he makes a similar move in “A Good Master Well Served” (1696) or “The Negro Christianized” (1706)?
And, sure, such a list of such puritans and later evangelicals and their sermons/treatises could easily grow, including Sewall, Whitefield, and Edwards among others (hell, I wrote a book about them/it). They do some hard thinking.