The Genesis of Jesus Rock: An Interview with David W. Stowe

[Crossposted at Religion in American History]

Randall Stephens

David W. Stowe is a professor of American Studies and Religious Studies at Michigan State University. He has written on jazz history, hymns, and rock music. Stowe is the author of a wide range of books and articles, including Swing Changes: Big-Band Jazz in New Deal America (Harvard University Press, 1996); How Sweet the Sound: Music in the Spiritual Lives of Americans (Harvard University Press, 2004); and, most recently, No Sympathy for the Devil: Christian Pop Music and the Transformation of American Evangelicalism (Harvard University Press, 2011). Below I interview Stowe about his excellent new book and his insights into Jesus rock and the culture of conservative evangelicalism.

Randall Stephens: What drew you to the topic of the roots of Christian rock?

David W. Stowe: I was intrigued by the historical moment of the early Seventies—1971 to be exact—when it seemed popular music and youth culture were saturated in allusions to Jesus Christ: Godspell, Jesus Christ Superstar, several Top 40 songs with Jesus in their titles or verses. Why had the Son of God seemingly taken over U.S. popular culture at just that moment—when the countercultural energies of the Sixties were metamorphosing into something new? And did this music play some role in reshaping American culture during the Age of Reagan and beyond?

These struck me as questions worth trying to answer. There was a personal angle as well. I came of age during the Seventies and have always been fascinated by that decade, which I remember now as if it were some kind of dream. So Christian pop music—of which I was completely oblivious until about 15 years ago—was a lens through which to make sense of that strange interlude between Kent State and the Reagan Revolution.

Stephens: Why did a Christian analogue to rock music develop when and where it did?

Stowe: Like many forms of the Sixties counterculture, Christian rock first emerged in California. More precisely Orange County, the epicenter of what was dubbed the Jesus Movement. It was at Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa where Chuck Smith famously teamed up with über-Jesus freak Lonnie Frisbee. Larry Norman came out of the Bay Area and had a major impact as well. But it’s important to note that the West Coast didn’t have a monopoly on Jesus music. The Rez Band (still in business) originated in

Milwaukee and made a very successful debut run across the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. CCM guitar hero Phil Keaggy did a stint at Love Inn in upstate New York. [Check out the McCartney, Ram-esque Keaggy song in the youtube clip here.] So this Jesus Movement—and the music that went with it—was a national phenomenon.

Stephens: You focus quite a bit of attention on apocalypticism. How did end-times views shape Christian rock and, even, politics?

Stowe: Apocalyptic themes had bounced around in American pop music since early Dylan—“A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall”—and Barry McGuire’s surprise number-one hit of 1965, “Eve of Destruction.” A sense of living in end times tinged the late Sixties counterculture—a certain Cold War fatalism permeated American society for decades--so it made sense that an apocalyptic mindset would filter into the Jesus Movement. Among other things, it makes a catchy theme for a lyric. Witness Larry Norman’s most famous song: “Children died, the days grew cold/A piece of bread could buy a bag of gold/I wish we’d all been ready. . . .” read on>>>

An Interview with John Fea on the Historian's Public Role and the Christian Nation Debate

Randall Stephens

With the 4th of July just around the corner, it's a good time to reflect on how Americans conceive the settlement and founding of their nation. John Fea has been thinking and writing about colonial America and the Revolutionary Era for quite some time. (He writes on that and related matters at his popular, always interesting blog Way of Improvement Leads Home.) Fea is the author of The Way of Improvement Leads Home: Philip Vickers Fithian and the Rural Enlightenment in Early America (U of Pennsylvania Press, 2008) and an editor of Confessing History: Explorations in Christian Faith and the Historian's Vocation, with Jay Green and Eric Miller (University of Notre Dame Press, 2010). His most recent book, Was America Founded as a Christian Nation? A Historical Introduction (Westminister John Knox Press, 2011), uncovers the historical roots of the Christian nation question and offers much-needed, timely insight. I recently caught up with Fea and asked him about his book, contemporary discussions on the matter, and his experience lecturing on the topic.

Randall Stephens: Gordon Wood has commented on the strange fascination Americans have with their founders. Other westerners, he observes, are not so obsessed with the lives and values of their nations' progenitors. Why do you think it matters so much, to so many Americans, that the founding fathers and the nation itself was and is Christian?

John Fea: As a I argue in the first four chapters of Was America Founded as a Christian Nation?, the overwhelming majority of Americans have always seen themselves as living in a Christian nation. Though the idea of America as a "Christian nation" has been understood in different ways by different groups, I think one could make a pretty good argument that today's advocates of a "Christian America" have a large chunk of American history on their side. This is more a statement about the influence of Christianity on American culture and less a statement about whether or not the founders believed that they were creating a uniquely Christian nation or whether those who believe today that America is a Christian nation are correct in their assumption.

Anyone familiar with the historiography of American religion knows that American evangelicalism and American nationalism have, in many ways, grown-up together. A lot of Christians today have a hard time separating the two. Since this book came out I have talked to several people—both on the radio and on the lecture circuit—who have a hard time distinguishing their patriotism from their Christian faith. One radio host told me point blank that if America was not a Christian nation he could not be a patriot.

Stephens: You write about the difference between what the public wants out of the past and how historians actually practice history. Is this difference at the heart of the Christian nation debate?

Fea: Yes, I think it is. Before I wrote this book I was aware, at a cognitive level, that most people were in search of a usable past. But the reaction to this book has really opened my eyes to the way ordinary Americans think about history. I don't believe that there is anything wrong in searching for a past that helps us achieve our present-minded agendas. Lawyers do it all the time. But those who only approach history in this way miss out on the transformative power that the study of the past can have on our lives and our society. In a world in which self-interest, individualism, and even narcissism reign supreme, history forces us to see ourselves as part of a larger human story. It has the potential to humble us. Its careful study has the potential to cultivate civility as we learn to listen to voices that are different from our own. I am working on a book on this topic which should be out sometime in late 2012.

I would like to start a crusade to promote good historical thinking as a means of contributing to civil society. Now if only I could find a wealthy philanthropist or foundation who might be willing to fund my project. (If anyone wants to talk more about this let me know).

Stephens: What do you think accounts for the widespread popularity of amateur Christian nation historians like David Barton and the late Peter Marshall?

Fea: I can think of three reasons for their popularity. First, as I mentioned in my answer to a previous question, Barton and Marshall are reinforcing the God-and-country narrative that many American Christians feel comfortable with. Christians can read these authors and breathe a sigh of relief because someone is affirming their already held beliefs about the American past.

Second, I think both Barton and Marshall are/were effective communicators. Barton is smooth. He can be very compelling. I have watched him on television and have found him to be an effective salesperson. Marshall and his co-author David Manuel were excellent writers. When compared to your average history textbook, their million-selling The Light and the Glory reads like a page-turner.

Third, I think Barton and Marshall have been so successful because, frankly, they are the only game in town. Most scholars, academics, and intellectuals have not stepped up to the plate to provide an alternative narrative. Scholars do not go out on the lecture circuit or write for popular audiences. They do not have public relations people or connections with local churches. They don't have the time or inclination to do these things.

When most Christian academics think about being public intellectuals they think in terms of writing for The New Republic or The Atlantic or a similar venue. Don't get me wrong, I think that Christian intellectuals should be writing in these venues. I also think that Christian intellectuals should be publishing with major university presses and trade presses, but if they want to serve the church and society they need to think about their careers, or at least part of their careers, in a different way.

Stephens: How do you address the Christian nation debate in the classroom?

Fea: I have had several opportunities in the classroom to address this issue. I usually don't dive into it in any great depth in my U.S. survey course (although this could change since I have now written this book), but I do explore it a great deal in my upper-division course on the American Revolution and a seminar I teach on religion and the founding. I teach mostly Christian students so many of them come to my classes with some opinion about the whole Christian America debate. Since I am a history professor, I usually try to approach the topic without a strong opinion one way or the other. (In other words, I don't come into class with my proverbial guns blazing and tell my students that I am going to try to debunk their false views about the relationship between Christianity and the American founding). Instead, we usually handle the issue through the reading and discussion of primary sources.

Stephens: You've lectured extensively on the subject of your book. Could you comment briefly on your experience? Would you recommend going on the lecture circuit?

Fea: My experience on the so-called "lecture circuit" has been mixed. I have thoroughly enjoyed the speaking and engagement with those who come to my talks. On the other hand, I have realized just how difficult it is to get people to think historically about this topic. Most people who come to one of my lectures come with their minds already made up about the question in the title of my book and are thus looking for me to confirm their position. When this does not happen (for those on both sides of the debate), I think folks get a bit uncomfortable or perhaps even defensive. I welcome this response. After all, history is complex and messy. Any type of education or learning should make us a bit uncomfortable.

Would I recommend the lecture circuit? Yes. I think that academics and scholars should be able to take their research and explain it to a popular audience in an enthusiastic and passionate way. On the other hand, such an approach to an intellectual or academic life requires taking the time to leave the ivory tower and get on the road in order to meet people in all kinds of settings. Needless to say, I have had my share of cookies and punch in church basements, chicken dinners on college campuses, tours of local historical societies, microphone problems at revolutionary-era round tables, and long car rides listening to E-Street Radio on XM. I have enjoyed it all and hope to do more of it, but I also realize that not all academics will want to do this, nor should they.

Look Back in Anger: The 1960s and Evangelical Conservatives

Randall Stephens

The rightward turn of voters in the 2010 elections and the traction that conservative candidates have gained has a variety causes. Certainly, a number of Americans are unhappy with health care reform, unemployment, and a president that they feel is far too liberal. But one group, white conservative Christians, is particularly up in arms.

The Pew Research Center reports that "Two of the largest religious groups in the electorate followed the same basic voting patterns in the 2010 elections for the U.S. House of Representatives as they have in prior elections: white Protestants voted overwhelmingly Republican and religiously unaffiliated voters cast their ballots overwhelmingly for Democrats. . . . However, among all white voters who describe themselves as born-again or evangelical Christians -- a group that includes Catholics and members of other faiths in addition to Protestants -- 78% voted Republican in 2010, compared with 70% in the last midterm election."

At least since the 1960s, many evangelical and fundamentalist Christians have felt besieged by new currents in the larger American culture. The upheaval of the swinging sixties shocked and frightened believers. Evangelicals and fundamentalists were horrified by campus riots, the counter culture, and what they saw as the excesses of the liberal political establishment. In the late 1960s and early 1970s Christianity Today, the chief magazine of American evangelicalism, published article after article on the terrors of the Left and the end of Christian civilization. Their world, so it seemed, was crumbling around them. (See Darren Dochuk's From Bible Belt to Sunbelt and Dan Williams recent God's Own Party for excellent insight into these and earlier developments.) The 1970s bestselling work of nonfiction, Hal Lindsey's Late Great Planet Earth, wove an evangelical end-times drama out of the explosive issues of the age. (Though Jesus People wore beads and Roman sandals and grew their hair "all long and shaggy," as Merle Haggard put it, they were in step with the apocalyptic temper of the times and drank in the anti-60s brew of the day.)

James Dobson, one of the most influential evangelical leaders of the modern era, described this anti-1960s view bluntly in 2008. Much of the wickedness of modern society, Dobson thundered, could be traced to that era of moral decline. The so-called Summer of Love in 1967 unleashed a whirlwind of hedonism and vice, he said. In his multi-million selling parenting manual, Dare to Discipline (1970), Dobson wrote: "In a day of widespread drug usage, immorality, civil disobedience, vandalism, and violence, we must not depend on hope and luck to fashion the critical attitudes we value in our children. That unstructured technique was applied during the childhood of the generation which is now in college, and the outcome has been quite discouraging. Permissiveness has not just been a failure; it’s been a disaster!"

Long after the bong smoke and tear gas have cleared, conservative American Christians--some in the Tea Party and many more who are happy enough with the Republican Party--continue to register post-60s fears. A number want to reclaim their America from secularists and godless liberals. They fear that an overpowering government wants to curtail their rights to raise their children as they see fit. They worry that their freedom to express their religious beliefs in the public sphere continues to come under attack. In other words, many are uncomfortable with a post-60s pluralism that has reshaped the nation and with a secular notion of the public good.

Such concerns are not lost on savvy politicians. Christine O'Donnell, Sarah Palin, Rand Paul, Ken Buck, and a host of others are intimately aware of constituents' fears. When such candidates lash out at secular experts and laud commonsense Christianity, they know perfectly well that they are tapping into a powerful counter ideology, one that has been decades in the making.