[In my first post, below, I argued that many modern evaluations of religion impose contemporary categories - such as 'left-wing' and 'right-wing' - upon religious movements in ahistorical and unhelpful ways.]
All this is not to say that there is no place for making moral judgements about the past, or that religion can only be understood by those with a theological education. It is simply to say that analysis of religious cultures and individuals needs to pay attention to religious beliefs and practices, recognising how they have developed over time and how they interact with other social and cultural changes. I’d like to give one example from my own work of the explanatory value of looking closely at the internal logic of a particular religious sub-culture.
My own area of research is early English Methodism, a movement of reform and revival that developed within the Church of England in the eighteenth century. Perhaps the most influential and certainly the most interesting of interpretations of English Methodism was given by the Marxist historian E.P. Thompson in his book The Making of the English Working Class. Thompson painted Methodism as a movement of political and personal repression. Where generations of Methodist historians had portrayed their forbears as saints, in Thompson’s work Methodists are quite definitely psychos. In his interpretation, the emotional upheaval of the Methodist revivals diverted the energies of the English working class away from political activism and towards a rigorous self-discipline that kept them working uncomplainingly in the dark satanic mills of the industrial revolution.
Thompson is particularly damning of the Methodist emphasis on suffering. He argues that in Methodism the Christian symbol of the cross became not just an incentive to personal self-denial, but a model for the whole of life. That is, he argues that for Methodists, the life that pleased God was a life of suffering. This belief made Methodists passive fodder for the factories and workhouses of the industrial cities. Assured that their suffering pleased God, Methodists did not dare to agitate for change.
My study of Methodist culture confirms that, in their hymns at least, Methodists were encouraged to value and welcome suffering as the road to holiness. Quite clearly, such an understanding could lead to the acceptance of injustice. One famous Methodist woman leader wrote of meekly accepting the beatings of her violent husband as the discipline of God for her sins. To this extent, Thompson’s work is, I think, a good model of exploring the way in which a particular doctrinal emphasis, distinctive to Methodism, had broader social and cultural implications.
However, Thompson’s emphasis on the industrial revolution leads him to ignore the full implications of this Methodist belief in the positive value of suffering. This belief could also sustain political and religious activism. A number of early Methodist women defied social convention by becoming preachers. In their letters and journals, they often described the personal cost of this unusual behaviour as a cross they had to bear. They embraced the resulting insult and ostracism as a means by which they could grow in holiness. More broadly, of all religious groups, English Methodists were the most active supporters of the abolition of slavery. Those Methodists who campaigned against slavery often paid a significant price in terms of their health, wealth and social standing. Again, they described this suffering as a cross God had given them to bear, which would eventually lead to a heavenly reward. And it is worth noting that the woman I mentioned above, eventually left her violent husband, believing that God had ordered her to do so.
Recognising the diversity of ways in which early Methodists embraced the ‘cross’ of suffering in this life forces us to go beyond simply characterising them as conservative or progressive, as left or right- wing, as saints or psychos. It may be relevant and indeed I think it is important to make judgements about Methodist complicity in the abuses of English workers during the industrial revolution, and equally to question the value of Methodist activism. But moral judgements of this kind will not help us understand the religious cultures of the past and present and their impact on our world unless we take seriously the systems of religious conviction and practice that informed people’s behaviour at any given historical moment. These are the insights that religious historians can bring to public discussion of religion and its place in our society.
All this is not to say that there is no place for making moral judgements about the past, or that religion can only be understood by those with a theological education. It is simply to say that analysis of religious cultures and individuals needs to pay attention to religious beliefs and practices, recognising how they have developed over time and how they interact with other social and cultural changes. I’d like to give one example from my own work of the explanatory value of looking closely at the internal logic of a particular religious sub-culture.
My own area of research is early English Methodism, a movement of reform and revival that developed within the Church of England in the eighteenth century. Perhaps the most influential and certainly the most interesting of interpretations of English Methodism was given by the Marxist historian E.P. Thompson in his book The Making of the English Working Class. Thompson painted Methodism as a movement of political and personal repression. Where generations of Methodist historians had portrayed their forbears as saints, in Thompson’s work Methodists are quite definitely psychos. In his interpretation, the emotional upheaval of the Methodist revivals diverted the energies of the English working class away from political activism and towards a rigorous self-discipline that kept them working uncomplainingly in the dark satanic mills of the industrial revolution.
Thompson is particularly damning of the Methodist emphasis on suffering. He argues that in Methodism the Christian symbol of the cross became not just an incentive to personal self-denial, but a model for the whole of life. That is, he argues that for Methodists, the life that pleased God was a life of suffering. This belief made Methodists passive fodder for the factories and workhouses of the industrial cities. Assured that their suffering pleased God, Methodists did not dare to agitate for change.
My study of Methodist culture confirms that, in their hymns at least, Methodists were encouraged to value and welcome suffering as the road to holiness. Quite clearly, such an understanding could lead to the acceptance of injustice. One famous Methodist woman leader wrote of meekly accepting the beatings of her violent husband as the discipline of God for her sins. To this extent, Thompson’s work is, I think, a good model of exploring the way in which a particular doctrinal emphasis, distinctive to Methodism, had broader social and cultural implications.
However, Thompson’s emphasis on the industrial revolution leads him to ignore the full implications of this Methodist belief in the positive value of suffering. This belief could also sustain political and religious activism. A number of early Methodist women defied social convention by becoming preachers. In their letters and journals, they often described the personal cost of this unusual behaviour as a cross they had to bear. They embraced the resulting insult and ostracism as a means by which they could grow in holiness. More broadly, of all religious groups, English Methodists were the most active supporters of the abolition of slavery. Those Methodists who campaigned against slavery often paid a significant price in terms of their health, wealth and social standing. Again, they described this suffering as a cross God had given them to bear, which would eventually lead to a heavenly reward. And it is worth noting that the woman I mentioned above, eventually left her violent husband, believing that God had ordered her to do so.
Recognising the diversity of ways in which early Methodists embraced the ‘cross’ of suffering in this life forces us to go beyond simply characterising them as conservative or progressive, as left or right- wing, as saints or psychos. It may be relevant and indeed I think it is important to make judgements about Methodist complicity in the abuses of English workers during the industrial revolution, and equally to question the value of Methodist activism. But moral judgements of this kind will not help us understand the religious cultures of the past and present and their impact on our world unless we take seriously the systems of religious conviction and practice that informed people’s behaviour at any given historical moment. These are the insights that religious historians can bring to public discussion of religion and its place in our society.
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