Some time ago I tried to work out a list of core virtues to help me, as a teacher, in thinking about moral formation. One, I discovered to my surprise, and perhaps the most important, was reverence. Civic virtues spring from reverence toward land, kin, and heritage; religious piety springs from reverence for God; and liberality springs from reverence for others. Odd, then, that nobody talks about it.
So I found this book, which has two purposes. First, to explain and defend the forgotten virtue of reverence. In this, Woodruff succeeds remarkably well. Second, to expound a way to integrate reverence into the cultural framework of a liberal, pluralistic society. In this, I think he is less successful, for several reasons.
One is that the negative space into which Woodruff tries to press this virtue has already shifted. Woodruff wrote at a time when the American intelligentsia above all feared the threats to secular liberalism posed at home by conservative Evangelicalism and abroad by militant Islamism. Neither, of course, has faded into irrelevance, but in 2025, the frequent tut-tutting about irreverent religion in the early chapters feels obligatory and almost quaint. Perhaps we are simply more attentive today to the economic and political factors that trigger religiously-coded turns to violence.
But I am also skeptical, despite his arguments to the contrary, that secular liberalism has the resources to maintain common reverence. For Woodruff, we need not have gods in common, or even any gods at all, for reverence; only a shared feeling that there is something bigger than us. The object of reverence may even be an “evil god,” not particularly worthy of admiration, yet the effect is the same. Reverence forbids rather than fosters emulation, because it reminds us of our place as mere human beings.
That pagans and atheists are capable of reverence is unquestionable. Likewise, awe per se carries no moral judgment. But I suspect Woodruff overstates the dichotomy between reverence and imitation. After all, for Christians, as for Platonists and classical theists and not a few Vedantists, goodness is a intrinsic property of transcendence, and an entity is only deserving of reverence insofar as it participates in transcendence. Reverence is possible across differences of faith, not because the virtue is absolutely belief-neutral, but because the capacity to address or experience transcendence is not confined within specific doctrinal formulations. And even though reverence does mark out the distance between worshiper and worshipped, Christian sacrament and its analogues in other traditions exist to transcend (without denying) that difference, to acquire unity or at least congruency with the object of one’s wonder. This perhaps explains why Woodruff is so wary of religious liturgy—it does not fit with how he understands reverence as “keeping our feet on the ground.” But if reverence does not merely begin in feelings of awe, but moves us toward the transcendence apparent in the object of our reverence, the rituals of a secular liberal regime, and the ersatz gods around which they are constructed, will fail to cultivate the feelings and habits of reverence he finds so regrettably absent in our present context.
Despite these reservations, this is a commendable book, bound to get one thinking about the right questions.