COMMENTARY: Young and Prosperous Turning to Hard-Edged and Fearful Religious Orthodoxy

c. 2005 Religion News Service (UNDATED) Picture a prosperous suburban congregation, set among big houses and private schools, populated by professionals and young families, once known for its intellectual vitality, now caught up in stick-to-the-Bible orthodoxy. Preaching there, says a member, rarely strays from a word-by-word explication of assigned texts. Adult education classes tend to […]

c. 2005 Religion News Service

(UNDATED) Picture a prosperous suburban congregation, set among big houses and private schools, populated by professionals and young families, once known for its intellectual vitality, now caught up in stick-to-the-Bible orthodoxy.

Preaching there, says a member, rarely strays from a word-by-word explication of assigned texts. Adult education classes tend to be “led by people who regard the Bible as inerrant” and allow no questioning. “We never hear an open, honest exploration of what it means to live as a Christian in today’s world.”


One adult class was “subjected to visits by (clergy and lay leaders) to make sure we were not discussing some kind of unorthodoxy or apostasy. That was an astounding, ugly experience.”

How did this come to be? Not just here, but across the land, a nervous and hard-edged orthodoxy has become the religion of choice among many prosperous and young Christians.

Maybe it’s just a pendulum swinging. Or some anti-modernist desire to reclaim supposedly simpler times. Or the logical outcome of education where standing in line and passing standardized tests matter more than asking questions. Or the latest variant in the need to say “No” to Mom and Dad. Or a form of post-Sept. 11 xenophobia. Or liberalism’s own failure to engage and to probe.

Clearly, some sort of retreat is under way. Like all retreats, it claims the moral high ground. But what I see in the “land of the free and home of the brave” is dogmatic conformity (fear of freedom) and intolerance (fear of the other). Among the most nervous and constrained are young men and women who have emerged into the sunlight of health, promising careers, large homes on leafy streets, high-end SUVs and vans.

I can understand why subsistence wage-earners and the marginalized would be afraid. They are literally one bad break from penury. But why would elites be so afraid? Why has prosperity led to such stifling rigidity that the assistant pastor of a well-to-do Louisville, Ky., congregation would command parishioners not to study any books that he hadn’t approved?

My read is that today’s prosperity feels tenuous. Young professionals know they are interchangeable commodities. Their jobs are tentative, as are their employers. The big house is one missed business deal from foreclosure. The club membership and private school depend on avoiding negatives in the next merger or offshoring deal. Not even physicians or lawyers face the future with certainty, thanks to clinics and merged firms.

The prosperous now face the same lose-it-all-tomorrow uncertainties that have plagued farmers, industrial workers and shop owners. The difference is that it feels to them like betrayal, and they haven’t been toughened by hard times. Hence the fear and anger. Hence the frenzied determination to get everything under control. Hence a rigidity that goes beyond normal liberal-conservative division, but feels more like panic.


I don’t fault anyone for being afraid. It is strange to have a great education and boundless opportunity, and still to know it’s a house of cards. Nor am I surprised when politicians exploit this anxiety for votes.

What concerns me is the emergence of a religious leadership cadre who don’t hesitate to turn fearfulness into rage, hatred and scapegoating. They, of all people, should know better. They should know that the answer to fear is faith, not hatred. They should know that Jesus didn’t name enemies, launch moral crusades or wage culture wars. He didn’t exercise thought-control with his disciples. He didn’t insist on one way of thinking or believing. He wasn’t legalistic or rigid or conformist.

They, of all people, should know that tragedy strikes every person, from lost jobs to lost lives, and that faith’s response to tragedy is a vibrant and loving community, nurturing a lively and durable faith. A church engaged in thought-control sustains no one, and a house-of-cards faith grounded in moral superiority or continued prosperity won’t survive tough times.

MO/PH END RNS

(Tom Ehrich is a writer, consultant and leader of workshops. His forthcoming book, “Just Wondering, Jesus: 100 Questions People Want to Ask,” will be published by Morehouse Publishing. An Episcopal priest, he lives in Durham, N.C. His Web site is http://www.onajourney.org.)

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