And then he chides Du Mez for not offering solutions, paths forward, or appeals to the Gospel. (I would love to know what Worthen, Conroy-Krutz, Turek think about Wilsey using them in this way–Beth Schweiger as well). He suggests that historians Molly Worthen, Emily Conroy-Krutz and Lauren Turek are doing history the right way and Du Mez is not. It is at this point that Wilsey’s argument about the work of the historian–even the Christian historian–collapses. But hope is central to a Christian historical method. All we have before us as we reach the end of the book is a cliff edge, with no path forward to forgiveness and reconciliation. Why? If the answer would be that the book is a work of history and no more, then why does the book seem to reject historical complexity and contingency? If the answer is that the book seeks to remain religiously neutral, then why would the claim that evangelicals have not been true to the Christian faith be compelling at all? Du Mez’s work reads less as history and more as ideology, and an ideology with little in the way of faith, hope, or charity. Du Mez closes her narrative with no proposed solutions, no path forward, and no appeal to the gospel. What about those of us who hold to inerrancy? Are our theological convictions rendered false by the failures of other inerrantists? If evangelicalism is inherently anti-Christian if theological convictions are impossible to hold in the face of failed actors if the history of evangelicals is a declension narrative-then what is Du Mez’s solution? Better yet, what is the Gospel solution? What would repentance look like? Is repentance under such conditions even possible? Can we regard anything as true, if the truth of any proposition is determined by the integrity of those who profess to hold that proposition? It would seem that Christ, as revealed in the Scripture, is the standard for the truth of our convictions and not fallen professors of this or that doctrine. Lastly, are the failures of white conservative evangelicals normative? In other words, is evangelicalism inherently racist, sexist, nationalistically chauvinistic, and bloodthirsty? We could ask the same of any doctrinal position. This may sound crazy, but I think it is possible for a person with complementarian views about the role of women in church and society to write a gender history similar to what Du Mez has done in Jesus and John Wayne. In this sense, the work of gender historians will always be disruptive in nature. Historians of gender have made major contributions to our understanding of American history by reading documents closely, and pointing out how they reveal longstanding power relations between men and women. (I am guessing he didn’t read much gender history during his Ph.D studies at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary).
Anyone who has read Du Mez’s book knows that it is based on solid historical evidence and research.īut it seems Wilsey’s beef extends beyond Jesus and John Wayne to the field of gender history as a whole. I am guessing that many of Wilsey’s fellow conservative evangelicals will love this line from the review: “If we place Worthen, Turek, and Conroy-Krutz alongside Du Mez, we can see the difference between evidence-based history and history as social and political posturing, the firing of salvoes in the culture wars.” Frankly, this is a cheap shot and it seems to undermine Wilsey’s focus throughout the piece on historical empathy. Many of the complementarian critics of Du Mez’s work have already ignored Wilsey’s attempts at civility and have seized on the points in the review that serve their agendas.
#Jesus and john wayne country free#
Though Wilsey shows much more empathy than some of his Southern Baptist theobros who have allowed Du Mez to live inside their heads rent free for the last year, he is still quite critical.
Southern Baptist Theological Seminary church historian John Wilsey recently took a shot at Kristin Kobes Du Mez’s Jesus and John Wayne in a review published at a conservative website called Ad Fontes.