Much better book than I had anticipated. The intro made it seem like a scholarly research paper but it turned out to be pretty well written. The one downside is it doesn't really spend a lot of time on the Cane Ridge revival itself. There is a lot about the history leading up to it and a few pages on the effects but it is mostly documented as a spiritual phenomena and not the study of the revival I was looking for. Because the event took place in Kentucky in 1801 it is not likely that there was a lot of documentation about attendees, speakers, texts, etc; and so the author does an apt job of telling us what he was able to uncover. I learned quite a bit...
-It began as a Presbyterian movement based around communion
p. 16-(as opposed to Catholic and high church sacraments) "They therefore served the wine and bread on long tables set up in the aisles of the church and covered with white linen tablecloths and communion napkins. Communicants came forward to take seats for the supper (they were most horrified at kneeling). If the assemblage was large the table might fill ten times, and a communion service, of logistic necessity, would take most of a Sunday. The ministers gave the institution (a survey of the origins and purpose of the sacrament) and blessed the elements, but then took a seat with the elders at the head of the table. The ministers, elders, and lay people next passed around and partook of the platters of bread and the flagons or cups of wine, and after a prayer returned to their pews. The quantities of wine and bread were not mere tokens, but approximations of those consumed in an actual meal...this was exactly the same type of communion that took place at Cane Ridge on August 8, 1801.
p. 21 (Referring to a predecessor movement in Scotland-Cambuslang) In the winter of 1741-1742 the Cambuslang congregation almost exploded with religious fervor. Prayer circles met continually. M"Cullock soon had to preach everyday, Sunday services were overcrowded, and almost all local sinners were deeply affected if not converted before the summer.
p. 42 (Speaking of the Scottish Presbyterians first competition in the south) This situation changed, at first with the rapid growth of the Separate Baptist movement and then with the prerevolutionary beginnings of Methodism. Overtly Calvinist in doctrine, the Baptists utilized trained clergymen and featured a fervent style that contrasted sharply with the intellectuality of the Presbyterians. The Baptists, who emphasized adult baptism by immersion and held closed communion services, competed for converts openly and flagrantly and refused most forms of cooperation.
*I found the above quite very humorous since as I former Baptist I found my experience to be much the same both during and after the time I left.
p. 46 (Trying to define "revival") In almost any year, among Baptists, Methodists, or Presbyterians, some local ministers could boast of an exciting period of renewal-more piety, more fervor, numerous conversions, and vastly improved morals. Individual congregations experienced their own cycles, with peaks and valleys in both membership and fervor. Some of these cycles correlated with generational changes, some with ministerial leadership, some with major population shifts, some with local economic or social conditions. Imitation was often crucial as waves of such renewal swept counties or regions. Excitement in one congregation created an almost immediate expectancy, or demand in neighboring ones. But none of these factors were clearly necessary for revivals, and no set of such factors was clearly sufficient. Causes are hard to come by, and patterns do not fit all cases.
p. 47 At war's end most Presbyterian ministers in Virginia and North Carolina reported a period of deadness. They blamed it, correctly or not, either on the disruptions of the late war or on the appeal of religious rationalism or deism. As so often, the concern focused on the youth, primarily teenagers but also young adults, or those who had no memory of the stirring revivals of twenty and thirty years earlier. Ministerial laments, or specially organized prayer meetings in hopes of a new revival, reflected parental concerns about "our young people" and reveal the primary generational factor in cyclical revivals.
p. 48 In most Presbyterian communities, the largest body of potential communicants, sometimes up to half the people normally in a congregation, were such unconverted youth, joined by a handful of overtly sinful adults. But almost always in direct proportion to a growing pool of uncoverted youth was a high level of coldness or dullness (their words) among most church members, and wht the more evangelical ministers saw as a lack of zeal, of spirituality, and of appropriate conduct.This last usually did not mean an gross immorality. Good, well-reared Presbyterian adults even felt guilty when they gave in to temptation and attended dances. The problems were gossip, jealousies, local quarrels, and too much absorption in worldly diversions, including work or business. Given such trends away from a vital Pauline Christianity [the author has defined this earlier], one can ask why revivals always, as if inevitably, ensued. Why not a pattern of continued decline? The psychological answer lies in the people who experienced such declension. They remained fully within the older belief system. They accepted both Semitic theism and the Pauline scheme of salvation. They had grown up with this worldview, absorbed it from weekly sermons and catechism, and internalized the hopes and dreams that went with it.
p. 64 (The starting of the second of three chapters--the first being the "American Origins", the second--"The Cane Ridge Communion" and the third--"Aftershocks") As at Cambuslang in 1742, the great communion at Cane Ridge in central Kentucky in August 1801 did not begin but climaxed an intense religious revival. No one can explain this revival, in the sense of citing a set of sufficient conditions for it.
p. 65 Despite the widespread but imprecise descriptions of rationalists and deists by frustrated ministers, most Kentucky settlers retained at least a modicum of Christian belief. However busy or distracted, most still understood, and when challenged still responded to, the Pauline scheme of salvation. They knew the meaning of sinfulness, feared damnation however they understood it, and suffered intense guilt if they departed from what they believed to be Christian moral standards. Above all, many yearned for the heightened religious experience, for the warmth of communal support and the exhilaration of communion services, that they remembered from their youth or from earlier waves of revival. Finally, a solid nucleus of faithful Christians, often parents, suffered all the generational anxieties that had fueled the revivals of 1787-90. They sorrowed for their young people, most of whom seemed indifferent to religion.
p. 66-67 It is true that a few Presbyterian apologists in the East tried to make good their private hopes that their revivals were not quite as wild as those in the caricatured West. They first launched the myth of frontier exceptionalism, a myth that contained, in almost all subsequent literature, the false hypothesis that the families that moved west somehow reverted, or regressed, to a more primitive or ignorant or superstitious stage of civilization. This then joined with other established, and almost completely false, assertions that either the revivals themselves, or at least the more extreme physical exercises, attracted only an especially ignorant and backward subclass of society.
p. 73 [Describing Barton Stone, the pastor at Cane Ridge] Barton Stone, in the midst of his travels, did a great job of advance publicity. He also established close working relationships with the Methodists, involving them in the planning. Stone's forte was organization and ecumenical cooperation. He had few of McGready's pulpit skills. In many ways he seemed an inappropriate host for such a historic event. He was far from the most effective preacher among his colleagues in central Kentucky. Although he preached at least twice, and exhorted frequently at the Cane Ridge sacrament, he was in no way a dominating figure. At the time he was a young and not very confident minister, only two years past ordination, and in many respects a lukewarm Presbyterian. His background in no wise prepared him for Cane Ridge or gave any hint that he would occupy a strategic position in the great revival, a position that involved circumstances more than talent.
p 94-95 (The effects of the revival) But most impressive of all to many spectators were the exhortations. Here and there almost anyone, including those who rose from the ground [after "falling" or being slain in the spirit] as well as child converts, might burst out with an exhortation. Women, small children, slaves, shy people, illiterate people, all exhorted with great effect. Observers marveled at their eloquence, their deep feeling, and often their seeming preternatural understanding of Scripture. Some believed the newly converted enjoyed the gift of prophecy, while critics often believed them possessed by demons.
One perceptive observer, who arrived at Cane Ridge on Saturday, when the "work" was already in full swing, estimated that 300 people exhorted, many at the same time. He was particularly taken by a seven-year-old girl who mounted a man's shoulders (typical for children) and spoke wondrous word until she was completely fatigued. When she lay her head on his as if to sleep, a person in the audience suggested that the poor thing had better be laid down, presumably to sleep. The girl roused at this suggestion and said, "Don't call me poor, for Christ is my brother, God my father, and I have a kingdom to inherit, and therefore do not call me poor, for I am rich in the blood of the Lamb." The theological images are confused, the words quite compatible with those of a child who had learned religious language from her parents, but nonetheless such words from the mouth of a babe seemed almost unbelievable to those who crowded around.
*This is likely the most detailed and lengthy description of events included in the book.
p. 108 Skeptics, particularly those at a distance, had profound doubts. They easily attributed the exercises to a type of popular delusion, perhaps triggered by the overly affectionate or frightening preaching of irresponsible ministers. Locally, the cantankerous old Adam Rankin wrote a book to prove that the situation was much worse, that those most exercised were literally possessed by evil spirits, and that the so-called revival, among those who had departed from scriptural worship by the introduction of human-created hymns, was a work of Satan, who above all used sensuous hymns and wild singing to capture the unwary.
p. 166 The role of communion raises much more complicated problems. Until Cane Ridge, the great Scottish communions remained for Presbyterians not only the highlight of the church year but the main institutional vehicle for conviction and conversion. The sacramental season and revival were almost synonymous. Clearly, the communion service was not as central, and not so tied to conversion, among Methodists and Baptists, although their conferences and association meetings usually climaxed in a communion service. But it seems reasonably clear that, by the time of Cane Ridge, the sacrament was already losing significance for almost all evangelicals, and that new revival techniques, some already in evidence at Cane Ridge, hastened this erosion. That is why I said, at the beginning, that Cane Ridge was not only the greatest Scottish communion in America but in a symbolic sense also one of the last.
p. 166-167 Among both English Puritans and Scottish Presbyterians, this highly sacramental emphasis [of Martin Luther and John Calvin) clearly declined by the eighteenth century. One way of stating this is that Reformed Christians had moved ever further away from the Church of Rome, or from a Christianity tied closely to church and sacraments.
p 168 These revival techniques involved new rituals--new hymns and new modes of singing them, lay exhortation and personal pleading with identified sinners, and special locations at the front of the church or before the tent where those under conviction came for special prayers and focused attention (these places were called mourner's benches in the Cumberland revivals, and later made famous as the "anxious bench" by Charles Finney.) It is ironic that, much later, American evangelicals would identify these rituals as part of the "old-time religion" when in fact almost every technique involved innovations rooted neither in church tradition nor in scripture.
p. 169 The formal aspects of worship do not correlate, in any one-to-one-way, with the emotional tenor of church life. The most ecstatic or charismatic religion is consistent with a highly formal or ritualized setting, even as a cold and lifeless religion is consistent with a plain meetinghouse and worship services largely keyed to the sermon. It all depends on the meaning the forms have for participants.
p 169 Because it is a doctrinal and salvationist religion, Christianity, in all its forms, has always demanded proper conduct. It has endorsed moral standards. In this sense, it is incurably political. To be a Christian, an individual has to accept certain communal restraints within the church and assume a proper stance toward the outside world. At times of revival or renewal, almost by definition, all Christian confessions move closer to total dedication, to more inclusive or rigorous moral standards, to tighter or even more totalitarian forms of communal life, and either to a greater separation from the surrounding and sinful world, or to a more prophetic effort to convert or reform that world. The main distinctions among Christians, respecting their relationship to the larger society, involve this "either/or"--the position a given Christian sect chooses on a continuum from quietism or separation or retreat, at one extreme, to a prophetic denunciation or radical reform at the other.
p. 173 What was more enduring was what predominated at Cane Ridge--a tearful yet joyful religion that supported self-transcending types of experience most often expressed in audible prayers, in personal testimonies, in moving exhortations, in audience responses to sermons, and perhaps above all in song.
p 177 [On southern evangelicals and slavery] In fact, if one attends to their language, they never really sanctioned slavery so much as, by verbal alacrity, they abolished it. That is, in order to make their peace with slavery, evangelicals tried to pull from it all its moral stigma by trying to convert and instruct slaves, by trying to convert and reform masters, and by trying to turn the plantation into a form of extended and supportive family. They turned slaves into beloved servants. This is a long, complex, and troubling story, but one as yet unanticipated at Cane Ridge, where for a brief moment even a glorious millennium seemed imminent.
p 178 The only justifying end of anything one does has to be, for someone, a good experience, something good in itself and not because it contributes to something else. All religions appeal to people because they promise just such self-justifying experience, proximate or remote. They all promise to enhance life, to give it meaning, to raise it to a new dimension. In their own distinctive ways, evangelical Christians tried to make good on this promise. They asked converts to probe the depths of despair and desolation, but only as the necessary down payment on inexpressible joy, both in the present and in the future. Such a warm religion enabled humble people, whose lives were so much more insecure and cruel than our own, to have fun. That was not a mean achievement.