Methodism and "Heart Religion"

I'm finishing up Heart Religion in the British Enlightenment. This is an extraordinarily deep intellectual work by Rutgers Professor of History, Phyllis Mack. After seeing Bruce Hindmarsh's review of Heart Religion in the British Enlightenment in Books and Culture, I've wanted to read Mack's book, and I am glad that I did.

In many ways, Mack's Heart Religion is set up as a polemic against E.P. Thompson's classic, The Making of the English Working Class in which he portrays early Methodists as emotionally repressed. Mack seeks to overturn Thompson's thesis, presenting early Methodists as thoughtful, and, in many cases, active agents of their own spirituality.

Mack wants to show that early Methodists fit within the culture of the Enlightenment at that time while remaining true to the beliefs and practices that John Wesley taught. Mack critiques scholarship that rejects zealous Christians as capable of acting as agents of their own behavior. Because Methodists are seen by secular scholars as being unduly influenced by religion, they are supposedly incapable of making objective decisions. Countering this notion, Mack writes, "Clearly, if we want to understand the early Methodists on their own terms, we need a more complex definition of agency than the liberal model of individual autonomy used by most secular historians, for Methodists and others defined agency not as the freedom to do what one wants but as the freedom to want and to do what is right. Since 'what is right' was determined both by absolute truth or God and by individual conscience, agency implied obedience and ethical responsibility as well as the freedom to make choices and act on them. And since doing what is right inevitably means subduing at least some of one's own habits, desires, and impulses, agency implied self-negation as well as self-expression" (p. 9). To make her case, Mack has mined an enormous amount of unpublished and published writings (letters, diaries, autobiographies, pamphlets, etc.) from ordinary folks, and spends the bulk of her book presenting case after case of men and women who consciously tried to live as exemplary Christians in the midst of experiencing the realities of physical and emotional pain. Throughout her book, Mack contends that Methodists sought to understand and control their emotions, and were thus not enslaved to their passions.

A secondary theme in the book is Mack's focus on gender roles in Methodism, spending much of her energy in redeeming women from their perception as either emotionless or incapable of self-control. Mary Bosanquet Fletcher, Sarah Crosby, and Hester Ann Rogers feature prominently in Heart Religion, which presents a compelling case for the "agency" of Methodist women.

A word of caution: Mack's book is not light reading. I wouldn't suggest reading Heart Religion shortly before bed as it requires regular pauses to reflect on her thesis as it pertains to the enormous evidence that Mack has garnered. But the careful reflection and intellectual rigor that Heart Religion demands seems to be exactly the point of the book as Mack seeks to change the public's perception of early Methodists as blind enthusiasts.

Day 2 at AHA

 On day two of the AHA/ASCH conferences, I attended two sessions. The first was entitled "Funding Your Research," from 10:30am to 12:00pm. The session was chaired by Laura Isabel Serna of the University of Southern California, and included two other panelists, Deborah Harkness of the University of Southern California, and Raul Ramos of the University of Houston.

Deborah Harkness and Laura Isabel Serna offered the following advice to graduate students and junior faculty:

• Start by applying for small grants
• Once earning one-month grants at specific archives, then try for three-month grants before attempting to apply for long-term NEH-sponsored fellowships
• Diversify your applications

Raul  Ramos followed up with some additional helpful hints:

• Mine "acknowledgement" sections in books for potential grants
• Make sure you read and follow the application requirements carefully
• When possible, review successful applications, noting the style and content
• Ask your colleagues to look over your application
• Attend your university's grant-writing seminars

While much of this advice may fall under the category of common sense, this panel reminded me of how important it is do as many things right as possible when applying for competitive grants.

The second session I attended was entitled "The Private Lives and Social Worlds of Eighteenth-Century Religious Women," from 2:30pm to 4:30pm. Bruce Hindmarsh of Regent College chaired the session and panelists included Phyllis Mack of Rutgers, Joanna Cruickshank of Deakin University, and Cindy Aalders, a PhD student at Lincoln College, Oxford.

This was an excellent session that drew from the expertise of many Methodist scholars in the room, including Dick Heitzenrater. I felt humbled as I reflected on my own knowledge of Methodism when compared to these distinguished scholars. Interestingly, all three panelists seemed to confirm that diary writing, from the perspective of many eighteenth-century women, was not a private affair. Rather, diaries were intended to be passed along to others within certain circles, and sometimes meant to be published. While it is known that John Wesley and George Whitefield intended that their diaries should be published, it has been assumed by many historians that women penned their thoughts in solitary confinement, intending to use their personal narratives for individualistic spiritual growth.

Now it's time to reflect on these sessions over more great New Orleans food!

The Forgotten Wesley

While in England I have been reading John Tyson's book, Assist Me to Proclaim: The Life and Hymns of Charles Wesley. Despite having been a capable preacher, and producing between 6,000 and 9,000 hymns, Charles has not received the same scholarly interest as his brother John. Tyson argues that while John Wesley actively sought the limelight, his younger brother shunned such attention. In the introduction, Tyson writes, "It is clear that Charles Wesley did not intent to become famous from his hymn writing, since he often published his hymns jointly with his brother John, refusing to attach his own name directly to any single composition. Further, he withheld many of his compositions from publication, fearing that they would attract too much attention--being either too private or too bombastic for popular consumption. Nor did Charles make much money from his hymns" (ix). A second reason is that once Charles married, he gave up much of his itinerant preaching for a more stable life as a family man, first at Bristol, and then after 1771 in London. A third reason has to do with Charles's relationship with the early Methodist preachers. Some of his contemporaries complained that Charles was not fulfilling the Methodist mission of itineration, which also contributed to the fact that he was less highly regarded than his brother. Tyson notes that Charles could be overly critical of others by comparison to his older brother. John by contrast was much more lenient of the faults of his preachers and therefore was held in higher esteem by them. 

Born prematurely as the eighteenth child of Samuel and Susanna Wesley, Charles grew up under the strict guidance of his mother and siblings before entering college in 1727 at Christ Church, Oxford. After a year of card playing, dancing, and attending the theater, he began practicing a spiritual life more consistent with his upbringing. Charles is the first in the family to report that a fellow student called him a “Methodist” because of his newly-acquired methodical habits of piety. Soon he joined in fellowship of zealous believers which became known as the “Holy Club” at Oxford.  When John Wesley returned to Oxford in 1729 as a fellow of Lincoln College, Charles happily submitted to his brother’s leadership of the club. As the more introverted brother, Charles often allowed John to forge the way toward spiritual maturity. Charles, for instance, accompanied John to Georgia in the mid-1730s, despite his initial lack of interest in traveling to the American colony. Tyson writes that "There was, deep in Charles's personality, something that made him willing to be led by his brother, just as there was something in John that made him prone to lead. Things went along smoothly with their shared ministry when each man settled into his unspoken but well established role" (173). But as Tyson alludes, there were occasions when Charles firmly resisted his brother’s influence. After marrying in 1749, he balked at John’s insistence that Charles continue to itinerate as frequently as he had in the early 1740s. Unlike John, Charles had a happy married life and felt that he owed it to his wife and children to spend as much quality time with them at home as possible. Charles also had a different perspective on the Wesleyan doctrine of Christian perfection, viewing it as gradual and coming to completion at the end of one’s lifetime. John, by comparison, argued for the expectance of a sudden obtainment of sanctification, which need not come at an elderly age. Although both planned to remain loyal to the Church of England, Charles had a firmer commitment than his brother, which cost the younger Wesley the admiration of many of the Methodist preachers. Finally, whereas John welcomed laymen to join the ranks of the burgeoning movement, Charles was much more cautious in commissioning itinerant preachers. Disgusted with his brother’s apparent cavalier attitude toward religion on one occasion, Charles once wrote to a friend that John had made a tailor a preacher. "I, with God's help," Charles responded, "shall make a tailor of him again." Charles’s death in 1788, while officially lamented in the Methodist minutes for that year, allowed ambitious preachers in the movement to guide John Wesley towards a final break with the Church of England. 

Charles’s main contribution to Methodism was, of course, as the movement’s chief hymn writer. A talented lyricist, he penned an estimated 6,000 to 9,000 hymns and sacred poems during his lifetime. But it is difficult to determine exactly how many of these he composed since Charles usually published his work jointly with his brother John. Most scholars, however, attribute the majority of early Methodist hymns to Charles, seeing his brother’s role as the final editor. Charles wrote thematically on topics such as “Hymns for Christian Friends,” “Hymns for the Persecuted,” “Hymns for Children,” “Hymns for Families,” “Short Hymns on Select Passages of Scripture,” and hymns during special seasons like his “Hymn for Easter-Day,” better known as “Christ the Lord is Risen Today.” After experiencing conversion in May 1738—days before John felt his heart “strangely warmed” at Aldersgate—Charles composed lyrics that the brothers sang together to mark this joyous occasion. We don’t know for certain which hymn they sang, but it might have been “And Can It Be,” which was published as “Free Grace” in 1739, or the popular, “O For A Thousand Tongues to Sing,” composed in 1739 and published in 1740 as “For the Anniversary of One’s Conversion.” The inclusion of a “thousand tongues” is said to have come from the Moravian leader Peter Böhler, who once declared, “Had I thousand tongues, I would praise Christ with them all!” The theology behind words explicitly deferred all power of conversion to divine grace, while encouraging the singer to participate in the narrative of the song. 

Tyson's book is a very accessible introduction to the life of Charles Wesley, clearly showing the importance and genius of the younger brother. While I wished that Tyson would have included the context of such hymns as "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing" or the theology behind "Wrestling Jacob," one cannot fault the author for not covering all of the thousands of compositions by Wesley. Rather, it seems fair enough to conclude that Tyson's main accomplishment is to whet one's appetite for further reading and study on this lesser-known Wesley.

Richard Allen: America's Persistent Evangelical Founding Father

I just finished Freedom's Prophet: Bishop Richard Allen, the AME Church, and the Black Founding Fathers by Richard S. Newman. The book offers a captivating account of an important, but largely forgotten, black American evangelical leader.

Richard Allen (1760-1831) was a determined man. In fact, Newman argues that "Allen's most important trait was his rigid determination, some would say obstinacy" (7). Born into slavery on February 14, 1760, Allen's first owner, Benjamin Chew, was an affluent Philadelphia lawyer. Perhaps wanting to pay off some debts, Chew sold Allen in 1768 to the Delaware farmer Stokeley Sturgis. Although calling slavery "a bitter pill" in his posthumous autobiography, Allen did not disclose any significant details about his early life of bondage.

In 1777 he had a conversion experience when he heard a sermon by an itinerant preacher near the Sturgis farm. After his conversion, he joined a Methodist class meeting and began exhorting. Two years later in 1779, he made arrangements for the Methodist preacher Freeborn Garrettson to speak to Sturgis. Employing the biblical text of Daniel 5:27, Garrettson shamed Sturgis into an agreement in which Allen could pay for his freedom over the course of five years. In record time, the young man paid off his debt of $2,000 to Sturgis three and a half years early in 1783 after backbreaking work chopping wood and performing odd jobs. Changing his name from "Negro Richard" to "Richard Allen," the newly freed man began circuit preaching for the Methodists. He started preaching in Wilmington, Delaware in 1783 and then moved on to New Jersey. Between 1784 and 1785, he traveled to southeastern Pennsylvania, Baltimore, Maryland, and Kent County Delaware before permanently settling in Philadelphia in 1786.

While in Philadelphia, Allen ministered to black congregants at St. George's Episcopal Church. Later in 1792, he led a mass exodus from St. George's when white members tried forcing blacks to sit in the balcony of the church. From the savings he had accumulated from his successful chimney sweep business and other entrepreneurial ventures, Allen purchased a lot and former blacksmith shop, which became Bethel Church. The official opening was on July 29, 1794, with religious special guests such as Francis Asbury in attendance. Within a year, over one hundred people were attending, and by 1810 some 400 members claimed Bethel as their home church. As Bethel grew in prominence, Newman shows that white Methodist elders sought to seize control of the flourishing church. The articles of incorporation that Allen had ratified gave white Methodist elders certain powers over the black trustees. A legal war ensued and ultimately Allen and his congregation had to cough up the enormous sum of $9,600 in 1815 in order to keep the church from being sold. Shortly after gaining independence, Bethel forged an alliance with other Atlantic black congregations, forming the African Methodist Episcopal Church in 1816, with Allen as its first bishop.

Throughout his narrative, Newman shows Allen as an outspoken advocate for African American rights. In his first pamphlet, "A Narrative of the Proceeding of the Black People During the Late Awful Calamity in Philadelphia," Allen and his friend and coauthor Absalom Jones, defended the character of blacks in the aftermath of a Yellow Fever epidemic that ravished Philadelphia in 1793. Thousands of people (mostly wealthy white residents) fled the city, leaving the poor to fend for themselves. Believing blacks to be immune from the disease, the physician Benjamin Rush asked Allen and other African Americans to help care for the sick and dying. Seeing this as an opportunity to "help the cause of racial injustice," African Americans diligently tended to the disease-ridden people of Philadelphia, burying the dead, and burning infected clothes and linens in the process. Allen and Jones testified that they looked after some 800 people, which cost them personally 178.98 pounds in net expenses. The pamphlet, which chronicled some of the heroic efforts of individual black Americans,
was a response to the Philadelphia printer Mathew Carey's earlier piece in which he claimed that blacks had taken advantage of the situation by charging exorbitant fees for their labor.

Feeling discouraged at the treatment of African Americans, especially after his own encounter with white Methodist leaders over control of Bethel, Allen wondered if blacks wouldn't be better off somewhere other than the United States. Allen supported the colonization scheme of Paul Cuffee, a free black ship captain and Quaker who believed that true freedom awaited in Sierra Leone. When Africa failed to deliver the implied promise of freedom and prosperity to blacks, Allen shifted his support to populating Haiti, and then later Canada. Although becoming wealthy and prosperous in America, Allen was not sanguine about the prospects that other blacks could find the same measure of success in a land that had grown hostile toward people of African descent.

I commend Newman for producing a very interesting biography of Richard Allen. I can't recall reading as many exclamation points in a monograph as I did in Newman's book. But then again, Newman had a lot to celebrate when describing the rags to riches story of a black evangelical who broke free from the shackles of slavery to become arguably the most important African American of his time.