Reading and Thinking about Imagined Communities

When I was in a historiography class in grad school, I remember getting introduced to the idea of the imagined community, a term coined by Benedict Anderson in 1983 in his attempt to explain the rise of nationalism. The title of his book was, perhaps not surprisingly, Imagined Communities. 

Apparently, this concept has influenced scholars well outside the historical profession. This summer, I started working toward a graduate certificate in human geography to extend my ability to teach undergrad classes in another field. My first class was Political Geography, and the concept of the imagined community came up during a week that focused on nationalism. I'd at least gutted the book in my doctoral program and had a decent understanding of the main point, but I decided to read it again, and it got me to thinking about certain how this concept intersects, or more accurately conflicts, with historically Christian views of ultimate reality. 

Anderson noted the universalizing nature of Latin as it was used in medieval Europe. This started to unravel as modern print culture came into being with the use of the printing press, which contributed to the use of the vernacular in print. It also led to the concept of print capitalism as these printing presses needed to sell books and papers in the vernacular to make money. 

Anderson writes about the importance of the novel to the concept of empty time and how it created the imagined community of the nation. The novel has multiple characters carrying out different actions simultaneously. Time is not always depicted in a linear manner headed toward a singular end in this construction. Now people could imagine multiple people as historical actors carrying out their lives at the same time in the same community. 

Newspapers were important factors as well, because they reported on news from the various parts of a given nation or empire. This allowed people to imagine themselves a part of a broader community that expanded outside their immediate neighborhood. They spoke the same language and sometimes had similar ethnic and/or religious backgrounds. To make a long story short, this provided an important starting point for the idea of the nation as the primary unit of political organization. Prior to the rise of print capitalism, political organization tended to focus on kingdoms (i.e., patron/client relationships) or multi-national empires (keep in mind that the nation in a geographic sense is defined as pretty much synonymous with an ethnic group--it's slightly more complicated, but not by much). 

Effectively, Anderson makes the argument that all of this tended to create a world in which people in disparate geographic locations could imagine themselves as members of a nation. These people don't know each other. They experienced life in different lived communities, but they imagined themselves as a part of the nation. 

There is a fairly robust literature (including Coakley, 2004) that looks at the ways officials have created national origin myths to contribute to social cohesion within a nation. At times, these are rooted in some historic fact, but sometimes, they are entirely fabricated. While even Anderson would argue that nationalism is ubiquitous, it seems in many ways to be a house built on shifting sand. 

There is currently a debate over Christian nationalism, and a few authors, most notably Stephen Wolfe with his The Case for Christian Nationalism, seem to base the Christian nation more on the Christian NATION (in terms of ethnicity) as much, as if not more so, than on the idea of a CHRISTIAN nation (with the emphasis on the Christian part). Wolfe goes so far as to argue that it's good for a Christian nation to keep out Christian refugees who do not look are talk like them. This is only one argument Wolfe makes, but it's salient for this issue of the imagined community. 

This has caused me to reflect on the concept of the Christian community, historically speaking. Traditionally, Christians have referred to themselves in familial terms, even when looking back into the New Testament texts. In the first century, both Jews and Gentiles made up the Christian community, and the community had ties that transcended ethnicity or even natural families. Early Christians found their ultimate identity in Jesus Christ, and that was the primary tie that bound them together. If the Christian view of the world is correct, they were correct on ultimate, and even eternal, reality, whereas the current nationalists who focus on a given political entity are focused primarily on a transitory social structure. 

Revise and Resubmit

I remember the first paper I sent off to a peer-reviewed journal. This was way back in 2007 or so. I remember the dejected feeling a got when I received a "revise and resubmit" email. It seemed like a failure at the time. At least I treated it as such in my naivete. I'd just finished a master's degree (without a thesis) at Marshall University, and the paper was the biggest effort I'd made at primary research. 

I thought "revise and resubmit" meant that the editor had no interest in the project. I then sent it to a small newsletter tied to a state historical society, which published the paper. Here's a link: https://archive.wvculture.org/history/wvhs/wvhs2203.pdf. It's not close to my best work, but it was probably the best I had done at the point in my journey as an aspiring historian. 

In 2008, I received a study grant to go to the Southern Baptist Historical Library and Archive to work on a very vaguely defined research project. It's shocking I got the grant, to be honest. I've since had much better proposals rejected. Anyway, I wrote up the paper, and again, I received a revise and resubmit request that said more research was necessary. I was teaching at a small private K-12 school in West Virginia, and the archive was located in Nashville. The travel would entail too much expense in my mind. I proceeded to sit on the paper for about two or three years. Again, this felt like a rejection. 

However, while engaged in doctoral studies at the University of North Dakota, I decided to revisit that manuscript and engage with some of the scholarship I'd wrestled with in the ensuing years, including that of Robert Bellah and Harry Stout which interacted with the concept of civil religion. I also utilized interlibrary loan (thanks to UND's Chester Fritz Library) to access some of the books written by the main historical character in my research. After making a major overhaul of the paper, I decided to take a chance and resubmit. 

After waiting for a few months (and basically forgetting I'd resubmitted the paper), I received an email indicating acceptance of the manuscript pending a few, very slight, edits. The result was this article: 

Price, Christopher. “Social Justice and American Exceptionalism in the Writings of Southern Baptist Statesmen H. Cornell Goerner,” Baptist History & Heritage 47 no. 3 (Fall 2012): 52-64.

When I received my copies of the issue that held my article, I felt like I had a chance at becoming a legit historian. 

Tonight, I sent back revisions requested in my most recent revise-and-resubmit email. I've learned since 2007 that revise and resubmit means that an editor finds that a piece might be appropriate for a journal. It just needs some additional work. Sometimes, that work can be pretty substantial. 

At present, I have three different articles submitted with three different peer-reviewed journals. Should they all get published, I'll be up to nine peer-reviewed articles in print. Only one of the six that have already been published got accepted without major revisions. It's a part of the process, and hopefully it makes the publications stronger. 

Revise and resubmit is not an outright rejection, but rather, a "maybe later." If an editor finds your work entirely unsuitable for a publication, he or she will let you know. Don't give up as easily as I first did. 

COVID Aftermath and Scholarly Research

Earlier this year, I received a couple of journal issues from historical societies of which I'm a member, the Conference on Faith and History and the Baptist History & Heritage Society. The former generally publishes two issues per year; the latter generally publishes three. 

I spent much of 2023 wondering when their journals would arrive. The lone 2023 issue for both arrived in early 2024. The Editor's note in Fides et Historia, the journal for the CFH noted that there was a lack of articles in its pipeline at present to publish the normal two issues in 2023. She pointed that Fides was not the only journal in this predicament. 

The lack of access to archives was one suggestion as to why there were fewer article submissions, and this makes sense. I had personally planned to spend Spring Break in 2020 visiting the West Virginia State Archive to undertake research on a topic that I've been working on for a few years (and will hopefully become a book). However, that research trip did not take place, and I spent the week at home in northwestern Kansas. The archive closed. 

I had also received a small grant to visit an Appalachian archive at West Virginia University just before the pandemic hit. I believe I was the first person allowed to access this archive when I finally made my visit in June 2021. Masks were still required. I had intended to visit a presidential library or two, as well, but these were still closed into 2022. 

The lack of access to archives limited the topics which researchers could access. However, online repositories were still available, and the Chronicling America database from the Library of Congress was a major source for my article on Spanish flu that appeared in North Dakota History. Much of that research will appear in my upcoming book on the same topic, and much of my perusal of the secondary literature took place via online repositories to which I have access through a library at an R1 institution.

I also spent a productive week at the North Dakota State Archive for this research. However, that research took place in the summer of 2022. I flew into Bismarck after the removal of mask requirements for flights (although some passengers continued wearing them), and there was no such requirement at the ND State Archive. 

Articles can take months (sometimes years) to write, depending upon the amount of background research needed before writing up the paper. Then, the review and revision process can take a year or more, depending upon a journal's publishing schedule. A big gap in research might lead to fewer articles in the near future, but one would assume this should reverse in relatively short order. 

What I'm Reading: American Gospel

 Today is New Year's Day, so Happy 2024. I spent a bit of the late morning/early afternoon finishing up a read of Jon Meacham's American Gospel. As this book came out in 2007 and considering the fact that I focused on American religious history in my doctoral program (and my later ThM program), I'm surprised that I had not read it yet. 

The book was very readable, although it felt a bit dated because of its origin in the era of George W. Bush, a somewhat less contentious time in American history. Of course, those who remember those days understand that many of the undercurrents that presently engulf social media and the political landscape existed at the time. But this was before the last eight or nine years and the increased emphasis in Christian nationalism by some on the right of the religious landscape, which has largely been accompanied by an increasing hostility to religion by some on the left (although this is not a necessary feature of the American left and some otherwise right-leaning Americans oppose religion as well; additionally, not all on the political right adhere to Christian nationalism). 

Meacham borrows the concept of a civil religion (what he generally refers to as public religion) that Robert N. Bellah articulated in his important essay on "Civil Religion in America". I first became aware of this concept when reading Harry Stout's Upon the Altar of the Nation, a book that the author framed as a moral history of the Civil War. Stout pointed to Bellah's influence on his won work. I probably read Stout's work around 2007 or 2008.  

Meacham correctly points out that the Founding Fathers attempted to navigate the space between reason and religion and came up with a public religion that focused upon God. While theistic, the "God of Nature" referred to by Jefferson was quite ambiguous. He (or it) was not God the Father of the Holy Trinity, as Meacham notes on more than one occasion. This God (or god) was active in human affairs; some Founders like Washington referred to Providence. However, such a higher being will not meet the theological understanding of very devout, and orthodox, Christians who hold to the deity of Christ and a belief in the Holy Trinity.  

The wisdom of the Jeffersons and Adamses of the early Republic lay in the fact that they understood the religious nature of their society and did not wish to overturn it. Indeed, they believed in the deity, albeit in a heterodox way. Yet, they also understood the problems that come with extreme sectarianism when wedded to the power of the state. The Constitution's First Amendment and state statutes like the one supported by Jefferson and Madison in Virginia were attempts to protect religious minorities from persecution which had all too often reared itself in the colonial era, including in Virginia. 

This compromise has largely held throughout American history, and even those presidents who would not currently be popular with those on the political (or religious) right felt the need to compose public prayers and bring religion into the public sphere. These included well-known liberals like FDR and LBJ. Meacham basically argues that the "center" of the American populace is happy to allow for religious expression in the public sphere, as long as there is not too much emphasis on specificity or a requirement of a specific view of Christianity (or any other religion). Of course, there have been examples of politicians who have attempted to add explicitly Christian verbiage to the Preamble to the Constitution or otherwise return the US to its Christian roots. The latter are more focused on, to borrow language from John Fea, nostalgia, rather than good history.

American Gospel also notes that the Civil Rights movement largely used religious arguments in making the case for the end of Jim Crow. Martin Luther King Jr. noted the "moral arc of the universe" in arguing for justice, for example. Meacham points to the religious motivations behind John Lewis and the others who endured a severe beating on the Pettus Bridge. Figures on the right and the left have long utilized religious and biblical imagery in making important points.   

Meacham effectively provides a narrative account of this "American Gospel". He emphasizes the significance of true religious liberty in American history, pointing to the ways in which Jewish and Catholic Americans have advocated for the concept from the nation's founding. However, it would be interesting to see how an updated edition might view the last fifteen years and the increased desire for dominionism or Christian nationalism that has increasingly become a part of the political and religious discourse. Regardless, it's worth a read.   

Recent Presentation

 I wrote earlier this year regarding some research I've done on the Spanish flu and how it intersected with religious bodies in North Dakota. I was able to give a broader talk on the state of my research recently in Colby, Kansas, at the Max Pickerill Lecture at Colby Community College. The college recorded the talk and put it up on its YouTube Chanel. Here is the video of the talk: 

First Post-COVID Conference Presentation

The COVID-19 pandemic upended academic conferences, much as it did industry conferences outside of the profession, along with many other activities we took for granted. I attended a couple of conferences virtually while social distancing precautions were in place, but they did not really have the same vibe, even though the sessions were generally informative. 

I attended the Conference on Faith and History for the first time in March 2022. I'd been a member of this professional organization in grad school and rejoined in late 2020. I was living in Kansas at the time, and I flew to Waco to take in some of the sessions. While there, I ran into a professor I'd shared a session with at the now-defunct Missouri Valley History Conference back in 2013. I met some more historians in one of my major fields of interest, i.e., religious history. A few folks wore masks and they were still required on flights, but otherwise, it was very similar to my previous conference experiences. 

This past week, I attended the Baptist History & Heritage Society's annual conference. I've been a member since about 2008, before I started my doctoral studies. I'd attended this conference in person a couple of time previously, including one in Sioux Falls in 2014 and the last face-to-face meeting in Raleigh, NC, in 2019. This year, the society held the conference in San Antonio, and I decided to submit a paper proposal, which was accepted. The paper was title "The Landmark Influence on the Ecclesiology of Jack Hyles," and it looked how the ways in which Hyles's teachings largely agreed with earlier Landmark Baptists who believed that the Baptist Church, or rather, Baptist churches, descended in basically a straight line directly from Jesus Christ himself. 

The presentation received no negative comments, although the session was sparsely attended outside of the participants and the moderator. We were also limited in terms of time because a lunch session went a few minutes over. This presentation was a part of a longer paper that I'd written on the authoritarian leanings of Hyles and their broader impact on the independent fundamental Baptist (IFB) movement. The major impact came through the status Hyles held as the pastor of the church with the World's Largest Sunday school, along with his annual Pastors' Conferences and his unaccredited Bible college. All flowed from his theology, and this ecclesiology was a major component.

My paper was a capstone for a ThM program I completed late last year, and I decided to submit the entire paper to a journal after tidying it up a bit during an unexpected overnight layover at Chicago's O'Hare airport (in a hotel comped by United Airlines). It will likely be weeks or months before I hear from that journal, if past experience is any guide. I've never published through this journal before, so I'm not entirely sure of the speed at which my submission will progress. If it's not accepted by my first choice, I have a couple of additional journals in mind, although I may have to cut some of the paper for length purposes. Different journals required differing manuscript lengths.  

Overall, the conference was an enjoyable experience. I was able to reconnect with a couple of people I'd met before, including one who had also done a dissertation on North Dakota Baptists, and I met a few other folks from a university that's in the neighboring state of Kentucky. I met a couple of editors who I'd worked with in getting a couple of my articles and book reviews through the society's journal, Baptist History & Heritage. Talking history in general, and Baptist/Christian history specifically, with people who are sympathetic with most of my beliefs is aways a positive experience. 

Spanish Flu and North Dakota Churches

 Since the early days of the coronavirus pandemic, I've been researching the way North Dakota experienced the Spanish flu. North Dakota History published an article that I wrote in 2021. This article looked at how North Dakota's newspapers provided coverage of the Spanish flu to residents of the state. At first, I thought an article would encapsulate basically everything I wanted to address, but there was way more information available the deeper I dug. 

Therefore, I decided to keep digging and prepare a book manuscript (a draft of which is already completed and submitted to a potential publisher). One of the chapters deals with how religious groups in the state dealt with the flu. Laura Spinney's Pale Rider and a few other secondary sources have noted that many parts of the world took a religious approach to explain the appearance of the deadly contagion. One bishop in Spain asked for a series of prayers to appease the wrath of God. This impulse was not terribly different than the one that drove medieval flagellants to beat themselves in light of the Black Death. God is mad; we must appease him. 

However, when looking at some of the major denomination in North Dakota, there was no real reflection, other than the people lost to the disease (some pastors were among this number) and the ways in which the flu kept the churches from carrying out their organizational plans for the year. There was no attempt to tie the Spanish flu to God's wrath, nor was there any question as to what God might be attempting to tell the world. I found this interesting, given the fact that the world was engaged in a war that was among the more senseless in world history. 

Additionally, this varied from the response by Christians to more recent tragedies that have caused some ministers to claim that some natural or man-made calamity was the punishment of God against wayward people. For example, Pat Robertson claimed that Hurricane Katrina was the result of God's wrath, tying this to abortion and the appointment of John Roberts to the Supreme Court. 

My primary question for the chapter revolved around the ways the churches reacted to the Spanish flu. The article noted above found that churches were a part of the ban on public meetings. Grand Forks was effectively closed for about seven weeks in the fall of 1918, and churches did not meet from early October to late November. Some churches in the town were actually concerned over the possibility of large meetings when the city's health officials decided to allow for public meetings to resume. Schools in the town did not reopen until January. This reaction to the flu in Grand Forks differed from the one evident in Fargo, where ministers petitioned the city to end the public meeting ban before it did in late October. 

Needless to say, these findings were interesting, and they tended to provide some interesting historical context for the actions that took place during the COVID-19 pandemic.