Every once in a while, I come across a book whose titles is so provocative and whose content appears so antithetical to my worldview that I can't resist being tickled into reading it. So when I saw the cover to this book, I couldn't help but be intrigued: an icon of Jesus presiding over marching Nazis? What's going on here?! The author writes that ""If you are reading this book, you are either not an evangelical Christian, you are a former evangelical who has already moved beyond the evangelical worldview, or you are an evangelical who is beginning to question your spiritual path," so she obviously didn't intend this book to be read by someone like me--a committed Christian, and someone she would certainly label an evangelical.
In trying to evaluate this work, I want to strike the right tone, which is admittedly difficult. When I feel like someone is grossly charicaturing me and my worldview, it is perhaps natural to want to lash out in sarcasm or anger. It is also difficult to strike the right tone because the author clearly endured terrible childhood trauma from her "Christian" parents. One has to ask, were the author's parents ever actually Christian despite their apparent zeal, and how much of this book is a reaction to childhood trauma versus a reasoned critique of Christianity or conservative politics? Whatever the case, my heart goes out to the author--if she ever reads this review, I hope she can see that there is at least one evangelical who doesn't condone her parents' behavior.
This book captures perfectly the perspective of many on the left, especially those who reject the claims of Christianity. There were lines in this book that have been spoken to me almost verbatim by people who are close to me. It is for this reason that I believe evangelicals have a duty to critically engage with the attitudes in this book. I will attempt to do so here.
As I've attempted to review this book, I've had to come back time and time again to edit what I've written. There are so many layers of confusion to this book, that I find it hard to comment on the book in any kind of linear fashion. The book is full of logical fallacies (guilt by association/ad hominem attacks, false dichotomies, false conflations, etc.). I can excuse a logical lapse here and there, especially since the writer is coming from a place of deep anguish. As I point out what I see as logical flaws, my goal is not to belittle or shame, but to gently correct.
What follows are a few thoughts. They may seem like I'm jumping around, but, at least in my mind, the book also jumps around.
First, and perhaps most importantly, this book, like many books that talk about large sets of people, suffers from being too vague, from trying to make too many sweeping statements. In trying to fit too many people into neat categories, the author ends up losing her focus, and this lack of focus can be bewildering. Is the author trying to address fundamentalism--a movement that started in the early 1900's? It seems this is her focus, since she discusses the history of the movement (though she fails to give an accurate history of the movement and leaves out many of the major players, including the Princeton theologians). But even this point is unclear--she insists that fundamentalism began in the early 1900's, but at other times she recognizes that "Christians have evangelized since the very beginning of the religion" and that fundamentalism was all about preserving "historic" Christianity. She castigates fundamentalists for the doctrine of original sin, but then claims the doctrine began in the 3rd century with St. Augustine (I would disagree with this point as well, since there are writings by other church fathers on the doctrine prior to Augustine and more importantly, the doctrine is also taught clearly in Scripture). But the author doesn't just blur lines historically; she blurs distinctions between very different groups in existence today. She continues by saying that "While technical differences between 'fundamentalist' and 'evangelical' may be important for some readers, I consider them hairsplitting, and I will be using them interchangeably in this book." Later, she goes even broader, saying that she intends to address every Christian who takes the Bible "literally" (once again presumably Catholics and Eastern Orthodox Christians are also included in this group?). Yet, at another point she castigates virtually every religion, saying "Shamelessly and with good authority, I assert that Christian fundamentalism is as inherently abusive as the fundamentalism of any other religion or militant belief system." So then is she taking aim at religion in general?
This failure to differentiate means that virtually everyone gets scooped into the author's excavator bucket. But a critique so broad feels more like a blind-folded kid swinging a bat at a piñata than a well-aimed sniper shot. It doesn't at all account for all kinds of subgroups that dont fit into the 'Trumper=male=white=heterosexual=fundamentalist' equation. What about black voters who voted for Trump? What about evangelicals who didn't vote for Trump? What about homosexual atheists who voted for Trump (admittedly this is a small group, but the question stands: are they Christofascists and if not, what are they? Just fascists?)? And what about the fact that though a large portion of Americans who voted for Trump checked the box for "Christian" on a survey, lots of data show that the percentage of those same people who actually believe and practice Christianity is very small? Should such people actually be labeled as "Christian"? (more on that later)
The author never stops to consider the irony that in espousing "democracy" that is free from "inherently abusive" religion, she is in the vast minority when it comes to the free-marketplace of ideas. It is unclear what religion the author is, (atheist/unitarian/DIY?) but historically, the world's population has vastly been on the side of religion. The rise of atheism and of "nones" is really hardly a blip in the landscape of history. Furthermore, historically, Christians have also always sided with a hermeneutic that takes the Bible "literally." To this latter point, the question should be posed: Can those who reject Scripture as any kind of authority, who reject the historical and theological significance of the life, death, resurrection and ascension of Christ--can such people rightfully call themselves Christians? The Bible's own answer is "no." Incidentally, this question was the original crux of the fundamentalist/modernist controversy--something that the author completely skips over, and has been soundly answered by men like J. Gresham Machen, etc. The question can be asked even more generically: if a person rejects the Koran, doesn't believe in Allah, and does not practice any of the common Muslim practices, then in what capacity can he or she call him/herself a Muslim? If a person never puts out fires, never works for the fire department, and has never ridden in a firetruck, in what capacity can he or she call him/herself a fireman (firewoman?)? Words mean something; it simply doesn't do to suggest that anyone can claim whatever religion they want regardless of whether or not they actually believe or practice said religion. Why does this matter? It matters because the author tries to take aim at "fundamentalists" as if they are some odd, modern day offshoot of real 'Christianity,' because they believe in things like the inspiration of Scripture and the need for new spiritual birth. But even a cursory view of church history and of the Bible shows this to be false; those who call themselves Christians but who reject Scripture are the offshoot of Christianity, not the other way round. Thus, it turns out that the author's beef is not so much with fundamentalism--a small and relatively new movement within Christianity, but rather with anachronistically labeled historical Christianity. Perhaps the author's agitation extends to religions in general, but she seems at least somewhat more focused on Christianity because Christians who vote have historically impacted politics in America.
Central to the author's thesis is that Christianity and fascism are united in an unholy alliance. I would pause here and say that if my above points stand, then the number of Trump voters who are Christian in more than name only represent a relatively small proportion of Trumps constituency. However, it is here that the second major flaw with this book comes out. Almost the whole of the work can be described as a guilty-by-association argument, i.e. an ad hominem attack. The very fact that a person voted for Trump means that they wholly embrace every aspect of Trump's persona and that they stand in solidarity with every evil perpetrated by anyone who can be identified with the religious right. The idea that some people hold their noses and vote for Trump because they see him as a lesser evil doesn't seem to be a possibility in the mind of the author. For the author, you either vote for Trump and worship the ground he walks on, or you vote Democrat and see Trump as the Nazi that he is.
Furthermore, the validity of viewing Trump as a lesser evil is never debated. The pros and cons of each party's policies/each leader's record are never compared. The author simply focuses on the flaws she sees with the right. In fact, I would agree with many of the flaws she sees on the right, but this doesn't mean I would therefore vote Democrat.
The same approach is taken when discussing Christianity, or as the author calls it, "Fundamentalism." The author never asserts why it is crazy to believe that Jesus actually died for our sins; she simply asserts that it is crazy. For those who are already convinced of this truth in their minds, this book might stoke the fires of their passion. However, this book is an incredibly poor example of how to dialogue/address a problem/persuade a disbelieving audience (though admittedly, this is not really the author's goal based upon her supposed audience in the quote above).
The author also makes statements that are self-contradictory and even hypocritical. Although she blames Trump for his harsh and violence-inciting rhetoric towards his opponents, the author then includes this quote without any caveat or equivocation: "It is quite possible that there is no resolution to the present situation until one side is thoroughly destroyed as an ideological power and political entity. If that is the case, the inescapable struggle requires that anti-fascist forces clearly identify the enemy and commit to defeating them, whoever they are, whatever it takes. The time of conversations with fascists is over, even if they might be your best friend from high school." If conversation is over and the left must do "whatever it takes" to "defeat " the other side (aka Republicans), how is this not implicitly a call to violence?
The author also decries the fact that Christians "seek to institute a nation governed by Christ based on their understanding of Biblical law." However, the author has no problem advocating for political leaders who govern according to her worldview. The author is correct in recognizing that Christianity and atheism/agnosticism are fundamentally opposed, but how can she blame Christians for wanting a leader who holds the same basic beliefs that they hold? Isn't this what every person hopes for when they seek a leader for this country? Isn't this what the author herself wants--surely she wants an atheist/agnostic in the oval office rather than a zealous evangelical? How is okay for the author to want someone with her worldview in office, but terribly wrong for a Christian to want a leader who is also a Christian?
The author's comments on "authority" are also self-contradictory. She comments disparagingly that "authority is the crux of Christofascism." She then makes the comment that "Any attempt to convert another human being to one’s own world view is the imposition of one’s own authority over the other, and therefore an impingement on their soul." So then, by that same logic, is the attempt by the author to convert me to her worldview an impingement on my soul? The author continues by making some vague assertions about how authority is necessary in a democracy, but that such authority asks us to "trust our inner authority" and to "honor it alongside the rule of law, because in the end, democracy reveres the sanctity of one’s inner authority." But that's the whole point of "rule of law"--to serve as a corrective (read "authority"!) when my "inner authority" doesn't feel like driving the speed limit or paying for the merchandise that I just walked out of the store with.
The author compares people who are secure in themselves with people who are weak, who have low self-esteem, and who have undergone trauma. The author posits that it is only this latter group that falls prey to the allure of Christianity, and that Christianity tries to appeal to such people. The author seems to think this is an argument against Christianity. Incidentally, variations of this argument have been used by others (eg Freud). My only response to this would have to be a hearty "Amen!." The author fails to realize that she is basically just saying what Jesus said roughly two thousand years ago: Jesus didn't come to heal healthy people but sick people (Mark 2:17); he didn't come to give vision to those who think they have perfect sight but to those who recognize their blindness (John 9:40-41). For those who see no need in themselves, Christianity has nothing to offer. But for the rest of humanity, Christianity is the hope we've needed all along. This same logic applies in many areas of life: people who don't think they are sick don't go around looking for doctors; but a person might think they are healthy while still having terminal cancer (yes, believe me--I've been an RN for 10 years--I've seen it!). How is this a good argument against doctors?
Finally, the author's section on deconstructing/leaving Christianity is actually in some ways the best part of the book to me. The thing that the author leaves behind is not the Christianity that I know. The author lived in a religion of constant shame and fear--which in many ways was simply the by-product of her terrible childhood. But true Christianity promises that the truth will set us free, and that we can have peace with God through Jesus. I would want to offer the author a third way: not the suffocating 'Christianity' of her childhood and not the spiritual mist of relativistic religion, but Biblical Christianity--the kind that can offer hope and joy. I very much believe such Christianity is alive and well in the world today, but I understand why someone like the author would not believe that such a thing exists. This is a sad thing to ponder.
Things not addressed that are major problems with this book: the author frequently uses Wikipedia as a reputable source; she draws a false dichotomy between the teachings of Christ and the rest of the Bible (and then turns around and mis-interprets Christ's words); the author accuses fundamentalists of cherry-picking verses from the Bible and interpreting them literally vs. metaphorically in a haphazard fashion (even though she concedes earlier in the book there is some internal logic to how 'fundamentalists' interpret the Bible) and then she turns around and cherry picks and interprets in whatever way she sees fit.
Once again...not trying to be harsh. The fact that I've written such a long review should tell anyone reading this that I care about what's being said here. But I would be dishonest if I gave this anything more than 1/5 stars.