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For many people, fundamentalism conjures up images of stone-throwing zealots or rigid, Bible-thumping preachers. Fundamentalists, at least as they appear in popular media, are dangerous people, intent on imposing their intolerant views on the rest of us. They are temperamentally unable to see the world except in stark moralistic terms; to them it is always either black or white. And, if their will is denied, then they are not afraid to resort to violence.
Not surprisingly, perhaps, few people willingly declare themselves to be fundamentalists. In the United States the word almost never finds its way onto a church marquee, and you’d be hard-pressed to find a religious group that has chosen to self-identify that way. In fact, the term seems to be most often used by outside observers, who apply it to a person or group who looks to be just that much more conservative than they are.
In recent years the term has also become deeply controversial. Many religious scholars, for example, argue vehemently against applying the fundamentalist label to groups outside the United States. Though we often hear radical Islamic movements—sometimes even conservative Jewish or Catholic, even Hindu groups—referred to as fundamentalist, they find the term inaccurate and misleading. Since, as they point out, the word originated nearly eighty years ago to describe a movement in North American Protestant churches, it’s at the very least ethnocentric to apply it to modern religious or cultural movements that have nothing to do with American church politics.
Even many American evangelicals object to the right-wing stereotype that far too often accompanies the fundamentalist label. Evangelicals today are a complex mix of traditions and social groups, so variegated that they defy any simplistic definition. Most scholars begin with a basic theological framework, emphasizing three central convictions. An evangelical is a Protestant Christian, first of all, with a high view of biblical authority, sometimes, but not always, to the point of declaring the Bible inerrant, that is, free of all human error. Evangelicals also believe in the necessity of salvation through Christ’s atonement, and they often describe this in terms of a “born again” or conversion experience. Finally, evangelicals emphasize the importance of outreach and mission. This is often couched in terms of verbal evangelism, but it certainly does not rule out helping the poor or participating in politics. That simple definition, however, creates a startlingly broad category of religious groups: pentecostals, Missouri Synod Lutherans, charismatics, Southern Baptists, many African-American denominations, and Dutch Calvinists, to name only a few. Many evangelicals are members of so-called mainline churches as well.
The majority of evangelicals are not even all that militant.
Within this larger mix, some evangelicals could rightly be called fundamentalist, that is, they are still deeply committed to a principle of separation between the world and the church. They are suspicious of secular education and entertainment, and try to maintain strict standards of belief and behavior in their churches. Earlier in the twentieth century, this group played an important role in leading conservative resistance to liberal theology, but in recent years, fundamentalists have become a relative minority within in the broader evangelical world. The majority of evangelicals, at least as they have emerged in many recent sociological studies, are not even all that militant. Despite the stereotype of conservative Protestants as right wing politically, these studies underline again and again their similarity to the so-called “average American.” Conservative Christians may have important religious convictions, but in most social behavior—including divorce, marriage, childrearing, and even voting—they aren’t terribly different from their secular neighbors.
All of this background, I think, suggests two questions. We might wonder, first of all, why a perfectly good theological term has become so polarizing? In the 1920s, many Protestants declared themselves fundamentalists with a certain amount of pride, since it meant that they were committed to maintaining the core principles of their faith. The term even had a certain scholarly prestige, since it came about, in part, from the publication of a dense of volumes on theology, entitled The Fundamentals.
Most of us would rather talk in public about our last checking overdraft than our beliefs about God.
Somehow along the way, however, fundamentalist became a label that made all kinds of people uncomfortable. Why is this? The answer is complicated, but I think in some ways, fundamentalism worries us because it pushes at the limits of religious tolerance. Religion is a funny matter in American society today: by most measurements we’re one of the most religiously observant societies in the world, but most of us would rather talk in public about our last checking overdraft than our beliefs about God and salvation. From its inception, the United States has been a famously diverse religious nation, with hundreds of different denominations and sects living peacefully alongside each other. By the standards of world history, where warring religious groups have killed each other with regular abandon, the level of harmony is remarkable. One of the reasons why religious diversity flourished here was the tacit agreement not to allow divisive theological issues into the public forum. Groups who did press an alternative public agenda, or who resisted the so-called “Protestant consensus,” often met a harsh reception. In the late nineteenth century, the Roman Catholic Church was the main target of these antagonisms; and in fact even up through the election of 1960, many Americans believed that a Catholic, whose first loyalty was supposedly to the Pope, could not be truly patriotic. A hundred years ago, anti-Catholicism inspired a great deal of religious bigotry among Protestants, even to the point of physical violence. Today, in many ways, the fundamentalist has come to symbolize the “other” in American culture, someone who doesn’t seem to want to play by the rules of civil society, and who in turn brings out the more troubling aspects of our freewheeling religious pluralism.
There’s a second question too: if fundamentalism conjures up so many negative associations, is the term still useful? Since it’s so often a source of offense, should we simply agree to drop it from our theological vocabulary? I think, to begin with, that we should use the term sparingly and, whenever possible, respectfully. Certainly Americans have the right to be conservative on doctrinal matters if they choose, even if it makes others uncomfortable. Being uncomfortable isn’t, of course, the worst thing in the world—most of us would probably benefit from more of those kinds of experiences.
If fundamentalism conjures up so many negative associations, is the term still useful?
I think of a friend from several years back who once, quite proudly, told me he was a fundamentalist. I was surprised: he didn’t fit any of the popular stereotypes that usually go along with that word. My friend was a fiercely intelligent, independent thinker with a wry, self-deprecating sense of humor. We even belonged to the same church, which was part of a historically pacifist denomination. But as Kenneth explained, he called himself a fundamentalist because the term emphasized his commitment to the core principles—the non-negotiables—of his Christian faith. It was his way of recognizing that so much of what we consider central is really peripheral: over the past two thousand years, Christians have disagreed constantly over various doctrines and standards of behavior. Kenneth called himself a fundamentalist to point back to the centrality of Jesus Christ in his faith commitments, a core belief strong enough to allow him—a staunch Republican—fellowship with pacifist Mennonites. I’m not sure I’d follow Kenneth’s path, and I’m not recommending it to everyone, but I can’t imagine that American Christians of every theological stripe have much to lose by pausing to re-examine their fundamental convictions. And I even wonder whether a thoughtful recovery of “fundamentalism” might offer, in the midst of all of the religious polarization we see around us, a small but important ways toward agreement.
Dr. Margaret Lamberts Bendroth will become Executive Director, on August 1, of the American Congregational Association, owner and overseer of The Congregational Library in Boston (page 13).
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