Religion & Republic shows that we have positive examples to work from within our own national history and that we do not necessarily have to look outside the American tradition in order to conceptualize a Christian America. It is worth repeating and reemphasizing that as Americans, unless we intend to be revolutionaries, our approaches to reform should greatly emphasize the role of institutions in promoting true religion.

The ravages of spurious evangelicalism on the Protestant tradition have left many Americans historically and politically unmoored, especially if they find themselves looking for religious continuity of any substance. Such listlessness leaves one vulnerable to specious influences. Conversations about the merits of Protestantism continue percolating. The challenge goes beyond river crossings, as those who remain steadfastly Protestant continue to elevate subversive and un-American voices. I myself have recently grumbled that American Protestants desperately need to free themselves from the influence of British theologians hawking their political wares in the land of the rich, gullible and as-of-yet free. The Absolute State of England is warning enough. In marked contrast, the New Catholics – that growing sphere of vital Catholic postliberals – purportedly present a compelling and occasionally muscular political vision (however disparate). But can a Catholic vision be an American one at heart? Can American Protestants provide a robust apology for their own tradition, history and politics without capitulating to Catholic ecclesiology or the liberalism of English academics? Surely I think so, and if the protestant retrieval movement of the past decade proffered nothing else – it undoubtedly has pulled out from the shadows and returned to public light the persistent union of religion and institution in the minds of our forefathers. Our greatest obstacle may not be how tempting the alternatives are, but a shallow understanding of who we as American Protestants actually were and what we might still strive to be. Miles Smith’s recent book, Religion & Republic, provides something of imitable importance on this front.

An Alternative to “Christian Nationalism”?

Smith’s base case is that pre-20th century American Protestantism relied upon secondary institutions to protect, mediate and undergird the interests of Christians in lieu of a national state church and that the American public did not interpret their open Christianity as unconstitutional but rather as necessary for the health of the republic. Smith repeatedly demonstrates that legislatures, courts, public schools, and even federal agencies codified and celebrated Protestant beliefs, defended the interests of Christians against the interests of non-Christians, and promoted religiosity.

Smith writes with a mind to refine certain reactionary movements in evangelical Christianity (namely Christian Nationalism), but the book hardly comes off as polemic. Outside of the introduction and conclusion, application is largely absent as he lays out a historical survey of early American institutions. His opening broadside on Jefferson excepted, each chapter thoroughly demonstrates the thick relationship between an early American institution and Protestant Christianity. The book sequences coherently with chapters on Thomas Jefferson, Legislation, Courts, Sabbath, World, Indians, and Education. The order is advantageous – examining the religious commitments of early 18th-century legislatures establishes the context for a more niche examination of Indian-Missionary relationships – but each chapter could also make for valuable reading in isolation.

Tar Heel Christian Nationalists

Smith’s chapter on education struck close to home. I, like Miles, am a North Carolinian. Moreso, I am a Tar Heel and I have lived most of my life on the deck of or in the shadow of her educational flagship.

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