A group blog to promote discussion, debate and insight into the history, particularly religious, of America's founding. Any observations, questions, or comments relating to the blog's theme are welcomed.
"George Whitefield was the Revolution." -Benjamin Franklin, as portrayed in A Great Awakening.
Yes, but of which Revolution are we referring?
A Great Awakening, the newest film from Sight and Sound Theaters, endeavors to answer this very question by introducing American audiences to the history and legacy of the one and only George Whitefield, an English preacher whose Christian revivals served to shape the heritage of the Great Awakening more than any other preacher of that era. And as the advertisement for this film makes crystal clear, the minds behind this project pulled no punches in their quest to connect the preaching of Whitefield with both the American Revolution and the Constitutional Convention that eventually followed.
As a fan and student of the Great Awakening in general, and of Whitefield specifically, I was thrilled to see the creation of a movie that would shine more light on the life and legacy of this incredibly important preacher. Unfortunately, far too few today recognize Whitefield's name and know even less about the man. This is unfortunate, since one could easily make the case that George Whitefield had the greatest impact of the religious trajectory of the United States, making him the single most important religious figure in our nation's history.
But just how accurate is their portrayal of Whitefield and The Great Awakening? Let's begin with the film's trailer:
A Brief Overview
The film opens with Benjamin Franklin, portrayed as an aging yet still consequential participant in the Constitutional Convention. Wearied by the rancor and persistent disagreement among the delegates, Franklin listens as the assembly descends into contention over the shape of the proposed Constitution. Returning home after a long day of fruitless deliberation, he is met by an unexpected visitor: the great George Washington. In a moment of quiet urgency, Washington implores Franklin to lend his voice to the following day’s debates, expressing a growing fear that continued deadlock may doom the fragile experiment in nationhood before it has the chance to take root.
Following Washington’s departure, Franklin, now in the company of his grandson, turns to his personal effects and rediscovers a collection of journals belonging to a once-close friend: the Reverend George Whitefield. Prompted by his grandson’s curiosity, the narrative shifts into a retrospective account of Whitefield’s life. After a brief portrayal of his early years, the film situates Whitefield at University of Oxford, where he encounters John and Charles Wesley. These scenes, though concise, effectively establish both the personal bonds among these figures and the theological trajectories that would come to define their ministries. The film’s depiction of the tensions between the “Old Lights” and “New Lights” --- a central feature of the First Great Awakening --- foreshadows Whitefield’s eventual commitment to itinerant preaching throughout the American colonies.
Whitefield’s evangelistic endeavors, as the film emphasizes, were extraordinary in both scope and impact. Historians estimate that his sermons reached as much as 80 percent of the colonial population between 1739 and 1770. Benjamin Franklin himself famously remarked that Whitefield spent more time on horseback than on foot, a testament to the relentless pace of his ministry. Traveling to each of the thirteen colonies, Whitefield achieved an unprecedented level of fame for a religious figure, becoming one of the first truly transatlantic celebrities. The film captures this phenomenon with particular effectiveness, highlighting his dramatic preaching style, resonant voice, and commanding presence --- qualities that, according to Franklin, allowed him to address crowds of up to 30,000 people. In this regard, Jonathan Blair’s portrayal of Whitefield is especially compelling, rendering him with a vitality and charisma that feel both historically grounded and dramatically engaging. Simply put, Blair knocked the role of Whitefield right out of the park!
What I Liked About the Film
I won't lie, when I first saw the preview for this film I had major reservations. I worried that it would simply hijack Whitefield, Franklin and the legacy of the Great Awakening and make them hostages of yet another "Christian Nation" propaganda scheme. I expected to be spoon-fed generous helpings of uber-patriotic spare ribs, smothered in zesty "In God We Trust" BBQ sauce, served with a side of Yankee Doodle mac and cheese and star-spangled potato salad awesomeness. To my surprise, what I was actually served was something much better.
1. The Film Brings the Great Awakening to Life
Instead of just reading about the history of the Great Awakening, this film gives the movement its real sense of "meat and potatoes." What people experienced when they heard men like Whitefield preach was something visceral and extraordinary. The concept of a "new birth" in Jesus --- a message central to all preachers of the Great Awakening and certainly a component to Whitefield's sermons --- is something this film delivers on in abundance. You can see and feel the power of the Awakening as you are transported back to those moments when people's lives and hearts were changed by this one-of-a-kind preacher. This film does much more than just discuss the Great Awakening. It gives the movement its arms and legs.
2. The George Whitefield/Benjamin Franklin Friendship
The bulk of this film's plot centers on the collaboration and friendship of Benjamin Franklin and George Whitefield, a relationship that is not without its irony. Franklin, though never hostile to religion, was certainly never a devout Christian. Ever the pragmatist, Franklin understood the value that religion had for society, particularly a for a Republic that he helped to establish. On numerous occasions, Franklin spoke of the value of America's "public religion," or the shared, collective belief the religion, when practiced by the masses, elevated virtue, a necessary ingredient for the newly established American republic. On the other hand, Whitefield was a passionate and fervent an evangelical Christian as has ever walked the planet. In fact, one could argue that it was Whitefield who turned Protestants into Evangelicals. This unlikely friendship between the scientific skeptic and the passionate preacher is the secret sauce of the film. For those who may have an interest in learning more about the Franklin/Whitefield collaboration and friendship, I would refer them to Randy Peterson's excellent book, The Printer and The Preacher: Ben Franklin, George Whitefield and the Surprising Friendship That Invented America.
3. The Film Illustrates the Complexity of Revolutionary America
The American Revolution was not some event that formed out of a vacuum. The influences that shaped American thought at this time were many and varied. This most certainly includes the Great Awakening. One would be hard pressed to assert that Whitefield, after having preached to roughly 80% of all American colonists, had zero impact in shaping their world view. Quite the contrary. Whitefield's preaching gave the colonists a shared American sense of self. Of course, not everyone embraced Whitefield's teachings, just as not everyone jumped on the Great Awakening train. But Whitefield's impact is certainly sufficient enough for historians to to track this growing wave of American unity. As Franklin noted when he first heard Whitefield preach, "The multitudes of all the sects and denominations that attended his sermons were enormous and it was [a] matter of speculation to me...to observe the extraordinary influence of his oratory on the hearers." Simply put, Whitefield's preaching was a force of nature that legitimately transformed the American mindset in ways we have not fully appreciated.
4. Jonathan Blair's Portrayal of George Whitefield
Simply put, it was masterful. I was worried about who would dare have the bravery to portray such a flamboyant and powerful preacher like Whitefield, but Blair knocked it out of the park. He was masterful in this role, which is no small achievement. All I can say is, BRAVO! [cue the standing ovation].
5. It's Just a Good Movie
Good story, good costumes, good reenactment, good cinematography, good directing, good story. My wife, who I usually drag to movies like this only to watch her take a nap, paid this movie its highest praise when she said, "I liked it a lot more than I expected." I completely agree. This film was surprisingly better than I expected. It wasn't Casablanca or Citizen Kane, but it wasn't a flop either. Just a good, solid, enjoyable movie.
Things That Could Have Been Better
Of course, no movie, particularly one focused on historical events, is not without its blemishes. Here are a few that caught my eye.
1. The Awakening Was Not The Revolution
Though the First Great Awakening and the American Revolution unfolded within a few decades of one another, it would be a mistake to collapse them into a single movement or to suggest that one inevitably produced the other. One of my biggest concerns with A Great Awakening is that audiences may leave with the impression that these events share the same roots and aims. They do not. The revivalism associated with figures like Jonathan Edwards and George Whitefield was primarily concerned with personal conversion, the authority of scripture, and the experiential reality of salvation and other spiritual matters. Its language was emotional, theological, and focused on spiritual renewal rather than political change. Even as revivalists criticized religious complacency and hierarchical church structures, their core message remained fundamentally religious rather than political.
By contrast, the Revolution was rooted in a different set of concerns and intellectual currents. Revolutionary leaders were shaped more decisively by the political philosophy of the Enlightenment, which emphasized natural rights, consent of the governed, and resistance to tyranny. The grievances that fueled resistance --- taxation without representation, imperial overreach, and violations of colonial charters --- were legal and political in nature rather than spiritual. Pamphlets like Thoms Paine's Common Sense did not call readers to repentance or spiritual awakening but instead to political independence. The language of the revolution was not the language of revival but the language of rights, sovereignty, and civic identity.
This is not to say there was no overlap between the two. The Awakening did help shape a culture of questioning authority and placed greater emphasis on individual conscience --- impulses that later proved useful in challenging imperial power. It also created networks of communication and print culture that could be repurposed for political ends. However, to suggest that the Revolution was simply an extension of the Awakening risks flattening both movements. The revival was aimed at reforming souls; the Revolution was aimed at restructuring political authority. Their timelines intersected, and some participants moved between both worlds, but their goals, methods, and ideological foundations were distinct.
2. The Constitutional Convention DID NOT PRAY TOGETHER!!!
One of the crowning assertions of A Great Awakening comes at the end of the film when Benjamin Franklin stands to deliver a powerful message to his fellow convention members on the merits and importance of prayer. One gets the feel that without prayer, the Convention is doomed to failure, and Franklin, despite his aversion to organized religion, knows it. The historical record, however, tells a different story.
While Benjamin Franklin did famously suggest that the convention open its sessions with prayer during a particularly tense period of debate in June 1787, his motion was not adopted. In his remarks, Franklin argued that if “a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His notice,” surely the delegates needed divine assistance in framing a new government. Yet despite the emotional appeal of his words, the proposal quietly stalled. According to the notes of James Madison --- the most detailed record we possess of the convention’s proceedings --- no vote was taken and no chaplain was appointed. The convention never instituted daily prayers. In fact, delegates such as Alexander Hamilton and others staunchly rejected Franklin's suggestion.
The reasons for this were practical and political rather than anti-religious. The delegates represented a wide range of religious traditions, and no consensus existed on which clergy or denominational authority would lead such prayers. Some also worried that a formal call for prayer might signal desperation or division to the public. Additionally, many delegates held Enlightenment-influenced views that favored keeping religious practice distinct from the mechanics of government. This reflected the broader intellectual climate of the era, shaped in part by the American Enlightenment, which encouraged a separation between private faith and public governance. The absence of official prayer at the convention therefore does not indicate hostility toward religion, but rather the delegates’ sensitivity to religious diversity and their commitment to keeping the proceedings focused on political, not ecclesiastical, solutions.
This distinction matters because it complicates modern assumptions about the role of religion in the founding. While many of the delegates were personally religious, and while religious rhetoric certainly shaped public life in the new nation, the framing of the Constitution itself was not conducted as a collective act of devotional practice. The image of the convention pausing in prayer is powerful, but it is not supported by the historical record. Recognizing this nuance does not diminish the role of religion in early American culture; it simply clarifies that the creation of the nation’s founding document was driven by political negotiation rather than shared liturgical practice. A Great Awakening would have its audience believe that it was only after fervent prayer that the Constitutional Convention was able to succeed in its mission of establishing a new government. This is simply not true.
3. Benjamin Franklin Was Not Benjamin Franklin
This is not a critique of actor John Paul Sneed, who portrayed Franklin, but rather a criticism of the way in which Franklin, as a historical character, was portrayed in the movie.
The film’s portrayal of Benjamin Franklin leans too heavily on a stylized, almost mythologized version of the man, relying extensively on aphoristic dialogue drawn from Poor Richard’s Almanack, which at times is almost painful to watch. While those maxims are certainly part of Franklin’s public persona, their overuse in the script flattens him into a kind of walking proverb rather than a dynamic, intellectually complex figure. Historically, Franklin was as much a shrewd political operator and experimental thinker as he was a dispenser of homespun wisdom. By foregrounding clever sayings at the expense of substantive engagement with his ideas, the film risks reducing him to caricature. Franklin feels more like a statue than a real person.
Moreover, the tone and delivery of Franklin’s character feel slightly misaligned with the historical record. The performance often lacks the subtle irony, pragmatism, and occasional self-critique that marked the real Franklin’s writings and correspondence. Instead, he is presented with a kind of steady moral evolution that crescendos in his eventual acceptance of the Christian faith. This interpretation ultimately diminishes the richness of Franklin’s intellectual and spiritual life, offering viewers a figure who feels curated for inspiration rather than grounded in the tensions and contradictions that made him such a compelling participant in the era of the Great Awakening.
Final Verdict
In the end, despite a handful of historical missteps and some interpretive choices that don’t always land, A Great Awakening remains an earnest and compelling film. Its strengths lie in its clear admiration for the transformative spirit of the Great Awakening and its effort to make complex religious and cultural shifts accessible to a broad audience. The production succeeds in capturing the sense that this was a moment of profound change, one that stirred both the hearts and minds of ordinary people. While historians may wish for greater nuance in certain areas, the film’s passion, clarity of purpose, and commitment to storytelling ultimately outweigh its shortcomings. It is a thoughtful and engaging work that invites reflection, sheds light on an important but forgotten moment in American history and is a joy to watch. I for one plan to watch it many more times once it is released. Well done!
This post relates to some issues of personal interest, intersecting. For all the years I've been blogging, I've been a libertarian. And I think I've always been "political independent." As the years go by, I've become even more so; I really dislike the current "culture war," divisive climate in which we live and so I'm happily on the sidelines. I have taken an interest in nutrition science and for some time I've been convinced that there is something to ketogenic diets and that they are probably optimal (though, they are very limiting and thus, for most, too hard to stay on). I even sympathize with the case for "carnivore."
Unfortunately, this issue has now become politicized. I came to my conclusions on keto before #MAHA existed. There are all sorts of things that come out of RFK Jr.'s mouth that I don't agree with or that otherwise strike me as "off." But things like keto and carnivore are now, in many people's minds, associated with MAHA/RFK Jr. This is unfortunate because it distracts from getting to the truth of the matter. But I am happy that they give it institutional support.
Ken Berry is a medical doctor from Tennessee and is one of the more notable influential voices in the keto-carnivore space (his YouTube page has 3.8 million subscribers, as it stands). He's the author of "Lies My Doctor Told Me." To me, he's very likeable and down to earth. And he seems to be a "meat and potatoes" (he doesn't eat the latter, lol), conservative evangelical.
Berry is now starting to research and argue the issues of political theology that is the subject of our site. Welcome aboard, Dr. Berry. Drs. Mark David Hall and Gregg Frazer, also reformed/evangelical types, are two of the most learned scholars on the issue of the reformed influence on the political theology of the American founding. And they differon certaindetails. And this site has featured their dialog and debates.
Still, that does not mean every disagreement is tyranny. It does not mean every official gets to do whatever he wants in the name of conscience. And it certainly does not mean every frustrated citizen can drape himself in the language of righteous defiance. This doctrine only makes sense if it stays tied to Scripture, tied to real office, and kept within the limits of law.
Put simply, the doctrine of the lesser magistrate holds that a lower civil authority may, and in some grave cases must, resist a higher authority when the higher authority acts unlawfully or commands what is sinful. The doctrine is not about private citizens taking matters into their own hands. It is about lawful officeholders using the authority of their own office rightly under God and law.
Scripture gives us the basic tension. Romans 13 says governing authority is from God and calls the ruler “God’s servant for your good.” First Peter says believers are to be subject “for the Lord’s sake” to human authorities, and it describes the proper end of government as punishing evil and praising good. Christians are not anarchists. Civil government is not merely an unfortunate necessity. It is a real institution ordained by God for human good.
But obedience to earthly rulers is not absolute. In Acts 5:29, Peter and the apostles say plainly, “We must obey God rather than men.” The Hebrew midwives in Exodus refused Pharaoh’s murderous command because they feared God. Daniel continued to pray when the king’s decree forbade it. Scripture does not teach blind obedience to wicked commands. It teaches ordinary submission to rightful authority, always bounded by prior obedience to God.
That is the tension. Christians are told to honor governing authority, but also to refuse obedience when obedience would require sin. The doctrine of the lesser magistrate grew out of that tension in public life. It asks a question many people today no longer know how to frame: what is a lower civil authority supposed to do when a higher authority becomes lawless, tyrannical, or morally corrupt?
The best-known historical statement of the doctrine came in the Magdeburg Confession of 1550. ...
Dr. Berry isn't discussing the American founding here; rather he's discussing how Christians like himself should view these issues and the Tennessee Constitution. Though, these issues HAVE been discussed in the context of how they relate to the American founding. He has noted he plans on writing more about these issues and the American founding in the future. We look forward to it and perhaps having him join us in the discussion.
Over the years I've noticed claims of "accidental" influences on the American founding. What does that mean? Influences that they rarely if ever cited, but who somehow deserve credit for their ideas, nonetheless. Here are a few examples:
1. Thomas Hobbes. America's founders almost never positively cited him, and often negatively did. John Locke was no "accidental" influence, but to the contrary. He was arguably the most cited philosopher. The argument is that Hobbes gets smuggled in through Locke and the "state of nature/social contract and rights" teachings. The followers of Leo Strauss (or at least a number of them) teach this.
2. Thomism. There was some kind of meaningful anti-Roman Catholic bias in the zeitgeist of the American Founding such that Catholic figures like Thomas Aquinas were rarely if ever cited. The Anglican Thomist Richard Hooker is nominally, positively cited by Locke. Some of America's actual founders like James Wilson cited Hooker, but they were much more imbibed in Locke and others.
3. Roman Catholic canon law. Late Catholic scholars Brian Tierney and Charles Rice make the case that such anticipated and incorporated the concept of "rights" as was understood by America's founders and the Declaration of Independence and later documents and writings.
4. Calvinist resisters. The work of Mark David Hall and others. Someone like Samuel Rutherford whom the founders rarely if ever cited. John Adams cited Stephanus Junius Brutus’ Vindiciae Contra Tyrannos and the work of a few other notable figures in one place. If Algernon Sidney counts in this tradition, Thomas Jefferson cited him as one of four chief ideological sources behind the Declaration of Independence. There are attempts to credit "Calvinism/the resisters" for all sorts of things where they weren't explicitly cited (like Madison's quotation in The Federalist Papers about "depravity"). This might be more "half accidental."
5. The Bible. The much discussed study of Lutz et al. Few understand the nuanced dynamic around it. The study shows that prior to the writing and ratification of the US Constitution, the Bible was cited quite a bit in places like revolutionary era sermons. Those sermons, interestingly, also cite John Locke and his concept of "state of nature/contract and rights" which Leo Strauss has termed "wholly alien to the Bible." Many of the notable ministers were heterodox and arguably count as more "Enlightenment" types as opposed to traditional orthodox Christians. And the Declaration of Independence itself doesn't authoritatively cite the Bible/Jesus/Jehovah/Christianity.
However, the Lutz study stresses that the Bible was NOT cited for the US Constitution and credits "Enlightenment rationalism" for such. Many "Christian America" apologists mistakenly cite the Lutz study as standing for the proposition that the US Constitution explicitly sourced the Bible. One could still make an argument that the Bible's influence on the principles in the US Constitution was "accidental." They would note that there are principles of "republicanism" found in the Old Testament that "match up" with what's written in the US Constitution.
6. Roger Williams. A figure America's founders rarely if ever cited. It's ironic in that he was the founder of an American colony. His idea of religious liberty which he innovated, they later championed. He also coined the term "separation of church and state." James Burgh likely was familiar with Williams and got the phrase "separation" from him. And Jefferson in turn likely got it from Burgh.
7. Spinoza. I think Matthew Stewart argues this. I haven't read Stewart's book, but rather critical reviews of it. From James H. Hutson:
Stewart contends that the founders wanted to “bestow upon America the blessings of popular deism,” “the radical and essentially atheistic philosophy on which the modern liberal state rests.”
The subtext of Allan Bloom's "The Closing of the American Mind" makes a point similar to Stewart's; though Hobbes and Locke are the "atheists" whose esoteric philosophy gets embedded into the American Founding. The enterprise of arguing on behalf of "esoteric" and "accidental" influences will always be contentious. I know that scholars might rightly object to imputing Hobbesianism to Locke and consequently to America's founders.
But as I read the record, they may be objecting for the wrong reasons. The subtext seems Hobbes was irreligious in a way that Locke wasn't. America's founders rejected Hobbes because he argued on behalf of a big beastly government, which they militantly opposed. Yes, people accused Hobbes of being an "atheist" back then, as today. They also accused Rousseau and yes, Locke of esoteric atheism, deism, among other things.
All three of them dressed up their teachings under the auspices of "Christianity." In fact, Hobbes' "Christianity" seemed to be extremely similar to Locke's and perhaps Rousseau's. Hobbes believed that God was the first cause of the world and reduced essential Christian dogma to one, simple claim: "Jesus is the Christ." Locke believed this. And both stressed materialism.
The point is that Hobbes is exoterically as much of a "Christian" as Locke was, with similar minimalistic, materialistic theologies and philosophies. Objecting to attempts to paint Locke as some kind of esoteric atheistic hedonist is fine. We can object to those esoteric readings of Hobbes as well, as theologically they seemed to be on a similar if not the same page.
On America's Declaration of Independence and In General.
I noted when discussing the sentiments of Leo Strauss' followers that I didn't think America's Declaration of Independence was a "Christian" document but rather, it's a "theistic" document. My reasons for this is the document doesn't invoke the Trinity, Jesus Christ or even Jehovah, but rather speaks of a God of some sort (in four places) in more generic terms. Further, it doesn't quote verses and chapter of scripture authoritatively. I got pushback from a friend. And I understand the reasons why; some of them apt. I would concede, for instance, that some/many of the important ideas contained in the DOI were earlier posited by serious Christian thinkers.
In my post on the Straussians, I noted that "[t]hey ask the right questions" even if one doesn't always agree with their conclusions, hence they are worth seriously engaging. One obvious point for the "pro-Christian America" side is that America's DOI emerges out "Christendom." Renowned evangelical/reformed scholars Drs. Mark Noll, Nathan Hatch, and George Marsden in their book "The Search For Christian America" raise the bar beyond watered down, "generic Christendom" in their analysis of the "Christian America/Nation" question. In doing so, they didn't find the American founding to be very "Christian."
But here is an example of the kind of pertinent questions that they, and the Straussians (I don't think the three scholars are Straussians, but their methodology and conclusions are similar and they also at times have cited one another) ask:
"Is the authoritative invocation of Aristotle and Cicero authentically 'Christian'?"
All its authority rests then on the harmonizing sentiments of the day, whether expressed in conversation, in letters, printed essays, or in the elementary books of public right, as Aristotle, Cicero, Locke, Sidney, &c. …
One problem with Schaeffer is that he tried to claim the American founding on behalf of his kind of reformed theology that looked to the four corners of the Bible and excluded sources like Aristotle et al. that other Christian traditions incorporate. This is a key criticisms that Noll, Hatch and Marsden make against Schaeffer.
There was such a Calvinistic "reformed" influence on the American founding. Schaeffer was partial to Samuel Rutherford of "Lex Rex" fame. This tradition still arguably doesn't "own" the founding, certainly not Schaeffer's understanding of it. For one, as J Daryl Charles has noted, many of these reformers didn't eschew authoritative invocations of Aristotle; they incorporated the natural law and didn't break from Aquinas.
Jefferson had strong disdain for Calvin and probably had some kind of bias against Calvinists (though he was friendly with Calvinists of his day who had similar political beliefs). We might understand why he would be hesitant to credit that tradition for ideas which he supported and successfully implemented. Out of the four sources for America's DOI that he named, Algernon Sidney arguably was the authoritative representative for "reformed resistance."
And then there's John Locke who is the most influential of the four sources that Jefferson named. How "Christian" was he and his ideas? Schaeffer wanted to credit Rutherford et al. for his ideas. But for reasons I need not go into here, that's problematic. Locke did nominally cite the Anglican Thomist Richard Hooker, but then proceeded to articulate ideas that seem unrelated to Hooker but looked more like a modified version of Hobbes, whose name Locke "justly decried."
America's founders also negatively cited Hobbes, but it wasn't because of his "state of nature/social contract and rights" dynamic -- ideas Leo Strauss aptly termed "wholly alien to the Bible." Rather, it was because Hobbes' version of the ideal state was a big beast -- a Leviathan.
There's also the question of whether Hobbes and Locke were themselves "Christians." Both identified as such. Both were suspected back then as of today as of atheism, deism, or otherwise esoterically holding unconventional religious beliefs. At minimum, both held esoteric unconventional religious beliefs in an era where one couldn't legally publicly proclaim such.
Locke authoritatively cited the Bible when making his novel propositions. I don't know enough about Hobbes to comment on whether he did. Rousseau likewise dressed his philosophy up in "Christian" clothes.
This is my understanding. I will let others make of all this as they will. It's more important, as I see it, to ask the right questions and clarify one's understanding of the dynamics and let others do the same and decide for themselves.
The Christian Bible was not the only religious tome to experience Thomas Jefferson’s examination. His vast collection of books contained many on religion. The Virginia Gazette, a newspaper from Williamsburg, served as a bookseller and sold Jefferson a two-volume set of the Quran in October of 1765.
It was titled “The Alcoran of Mohammed.” George Sale had translated it in 1734 from Arabic to English. In his introduction, Sale wrote that the purpose of the book was to help Protestants understand the Quran so that they could argue against it. He wrote:
“Whatever use an impartial version of the Korân may be of in other respects. It is absolutely necessary to undeceive those who, from the ignorant or unfair translations which have appeared, have entertained too favorable an opinion of the original, and also to enable us effectually to expose the imposture.”
Jefferson was 22 years-old and had studied law for three years when he obtained the book. Law professors of that time considered the Quran a book of law. Sale expanded on his motives:
“If the religious and civil Institutions of foreign nations are worth our knowledge, those of Mohammed, the lawgiver of the Arabians, and founder of an empire which in less than a century spread itself over a greater part of the world than the Romans were ever masters of, must needs be so.”
To them the Quran represented the ruling precepts of the Ottoman Empire, governing over 25 million people. Jefferson, as well as the Western world at that time, thought that the Quran was the chief representation of Islamic law. He is known to have studied the book, but it did not affect his practicing of law.
Jefferson carried the same anti-Islamic views of his colleagues. He did however, have the opinion that the Trinity and the humanness of Jesus were parallel in Islam. His experiences dealing with Islamic piracy in the Mediterranean Sea during his Presidency caused him to question Islam’s legitimacy as a religion.
In 1786, the United States found that it was having to deal directly with the doctrines of the Muslim religion. The Barbary states of North Africa were using the ports to wage a war of piracy and enslavement against all shipping that passed through the Strait of Gibraltar. Thousands of ships were overtaken, and more than a million Europeans and Americans were sold as slaves.
Congress offered an agreement called the Treaty of Tripoli, negotiated by Jefferson, which stated roundly that “the government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion, as it has in itself no character of enmity against the laws, religion or tranquility of Musselmen (Muslims).”
Many considered this to be a secular affirmation that attempted to buy off the Muslim pirates by the payment of tribute. Soon after it was discovered that Ambassador Sidi Haji Abdrahaman, Tripoli’s envoy to London, had extorted money and took slaves. Jefferson later reported to the Secretary of State and to Congress his motive was backed by his religious beliefs:
“The ambassador answered us that [the right] was founded on the Laws of the Prophet, that it was written in their Koran, that all nations who should not have answered their authority were sinners, that it was their right and duty to make war upon them wherever they could be found, and to make slaves of all they could take as prisoners, and that every Mussulman who should be slain in battle was sure to go to Paradise.”
Jefferson’s prejudice against Islam was questionable in some ways. He insisted on a constitution wherein “neither pagan nor Mahamedan (Muslim) nor Jew ought to be excluded from the civil rights of the Commonwealth because of his religion.” Still, to him and his contemporaries the idea of a Muslim president, or even a Muslim citizen, was an abstraction. The first American Muslims who traveled to the country, both free and enslaved, may have numbered in the tens of thousands, but at no time was true equality considered to be accessible.
That said, Jefferson did mention supporting religious freedom for Muslims in writings. He asserted in his autobiography that his original legislation for religious freedom had been intended “to comprehend, within the mantle of its protection, the Jew and the Gentile, the Christian and Mahometan [Muslim], the Hindoo, and Infidel of every denomination.”
Late in his life he wrote disparaging terms about the religion and the book.
Thomas Jefferson rejected the “divinity” of Jesus, but he believed that Christ was a deeply interesting and profoundly important moral or ethical teacher. He also subscribed to the belief that it was in Christ’s moral and ethical teachings that a civilized society should be conducted. Cynical of the miracle accounts in the New Testament, Jefferson was convinced that the authentic words of Jesus had been contaminated.
In 1820 he conducted what practicing Christians consider to be blasphemy. He completed an ambitious work titled “The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth Extracted Textually from the Gospels in Greek, Latin, French and English.”
Using a razor and glue, Jefferson cut and pasted his arrangement of selected verses from a 1794 bilingual Latin/Greek version using the text of the Plantin Polyglot, a French Geneva Bible and the King James Version of the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John in chronological order—putting together excerpts from one text with those of another to create a single narrative.
The text of the New Testament appears in four parallel columns in four languages. Jefferson omitted the words that he thought were inauthentic and retained those he believed were original. The resulting work is commonly known as the “Jefferson Bible.”
No supernatural acts of Christ are included. Jefferson viewed Jesus as strictly human. He also believed that Jesus Himself ascribed to a more deistic belief system. In a letter to Benjamin Rush, he wrote:
“I should proceed to a view of the life, character, and doctrines of Jesus, who sensible of incorrectness of their ideas of the Deity, and of morality, endeavored to bring them to the principles of a pure deism.” (April 9, 1803).
Jefferson also completely denied the resurrection. The book ends with the words: “Now, in the place where He was crucified, there was a garden; and in the garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man yet laid. There laid they Jesus. And rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed.”
Jefferson described the work in a letter to John Adams dated October 12, 1813:
“In extracting the pure principles which he taught, we should have to strip off the artificial vestments in which they have been muffled by priests, who have travestied them into various forms, as instruments of riches and power to them…We must reduce our volume to the simple evangelists, select, even from them, the very words only of Jesus…There will be found remaining the most sublime and benevolent code of morals which has ever been offered to man. I have performed this operation for my own use, by cutting verse by verse out of the printed book, and arranging the matter which is evidently his, and which is as easily distinguishable as diamonds in a dunghill. The result is 46 pages of pure and unsophisticated doctrines.”
In a letter to Reverend Charles Clay, he described his results:
“Probably you have heard me say I had taken the four Evangelists, had cut out from them every text they had recorded of the moral precepts of Jesus, and arranged them in a certain order; and although they appeared but as fragments, yet fragments of the most sublime edifice of morality which had ever been exhibited to man.”
Most historians feel that Jefferson composed the book for his own satisfaction, supporting the Christian faith as he saw it. He did not produce it to shock or offend the religious community; he composed it for himself, for his devotion, and for his own personal assurance.
After completion of the Life and Morals, about 1820, Jefferson shared it with a number of friends, but he never allowed it to be published during his lifetime. The most complete form Jefferson produced was inherited by his grandson, Thomas Jefferson Randolph.
When I first started blogging on the issue of the political-theology of the American founding many years ago, I grappled with the notion that blasphemy laws continued to exist in the United States under its constitutional order. I quoted the following from the late Straussian scholar Walter Berns in his book "Making Patriots":
Liberty of conscience was widely accepted at the time of the Founding, but this did not prevent some jurists and legislatures from insisting, at least for a while (and given our principles it could be only for a while), that Christianity was part of the law, meaning the common law. So it had been in England, and so, it was assumed by some (but not Jefferson), it would continue to be in America. But there was no disagreement about the place of the common law. Indeed one of the first things done by the states after independence was to declare (here in the words of the New Jersey constitution of 1776) that “the common law of England, as well as so much of the statute law, as have been heretofore practiced in this Colony, shall remain in force, until they shall be altered by a future law of the Legislature; such parts only excepted, as are repugnant to the rights and privileges contained in this Charter [or constitution].”
But if the “rights and privileges” contained in the various state charters or constitutions included the right of liberty of conscience, and if, in turn, this right required, in Madison’s words, “a perfect separation between ecclesiastical and civil matters,” what did it mean to say that Christianity was part of the common law? Very little, as it turned out; and it turned out as it had to turn out. Consider, for example, the case of blasphemy in America…. pp. 32-33.
Berns then went on to note that to the extent that blasphemy prosecutions survived for a short period of time in the early American republic, it was redefined as something akin to a secular breach of the peace, with blasphemy now stripped of its religious character.
One of the first recorded instances of someone being convicted for blasphemy in the state of New York occurred in 1811. In People v. Ruggles, the New York Supreme Court upheld the conviction, saying that the crime of blasphemy is “independent of any religious establishment,” and that it affects “the essential interests of civil society.” In 1824, the Pennsylvania Supreme Court similarly upheld a conviction for blasphemy in Updegraph v. Commonwealth. That court also concluded that blasphemy laws seek “not to force conscience by punishment, but to preserve the peace of the country….” Two more similar cases came down in the 1830s, with State v. Chandler in 1837 and Commonwealth v. Kneeland in 1838. In these cases, the Delaware Supreme Court and the Massachusetts Supreme Court both upheld blasphemy convictions on the grounds that they were meant to preserve public peace rather than punish beliefs.
Because these cases involved state law, the outcomes and rationales for them could differ. Below is a quotation from the Chandler decision that gives the secular, pluralistic rationale for blasphemy laws:
If in Delaware the people should adopt the Jewish or Mahometan religion, as they have an unquestionable right to do if they prefer it, this court is bound to notice it as their religion, and to respect it accordingly.
...
It will be seen then that in our judgment by the constitution and laws of Delaware, the christian religion is a part of those laws, so far that blasphemy against it is punishable, while the people prefer it as their religion, and no longer. The moment they change it and adopt any other, as they may do, the new religion becomes in the same sense, a part of the law, for their courts are bound to yield it faith and credit, and respect it as their religion. Thus, while we punish the offence against society alone, we leave christianity to fight her own battles, ...
This is not "Christian Nationalism." Personally, I think blasphemy laws are NOT consistent with notions of "liberty of conscience" or the First Amendment. Here is an interesting letter from John Adams to Thomas Jefferson, dated January 23rd, 1825 wherein he makes that point:
We think ourselves possessed or at least we boast that we are so of Liberty of conscience on all subjects and of the right of free inquiry and private judgment, in all crises and yet how far are we from these exalted privileges in fact. There exists I believe throughout the whole Christian world a law which makes it blasphemy to deny or to doubt the divine inspiration of all the books of the old and new Testaments from Genesis to Revelations. ... [E]ven in our Massachusett which I believe upon the whole is as temperate and moderate in religious zeal as most of the States A law was made in the latter end of the last-century repealing the cruel punishments of the former laws but substituting fine and imprisonment upon all those blasphemers upon any book of the old Testament or new Now what free inquiry when a writer must surely encounter the risk of fine or imprisonment for adducing any argument for investigation into the divine authority of those books? ... I think such laws a great embarassment. great obstruction to the improvement of the human mind. Books that cannot bear examination certainly ought not to be established as divine inspiration by penal laws. It is true few persons appear desirous to put such laws in execution and it is also true that some few persons are hardy enough to venture to depart from them; but as long as they continue in force as laws the human mind must make an awkward and clumsy progress in its investigations. I wish they were repealed. ...
Check it out here. Harvey Mansfield is a Straussian. I don't consider myself a "Straussian." Though I am "Straussian influenced" and "Straussian interested." They ask the right questions and engage in intense philosophical inquiry. They also have extremely contentious understandings, many of which I can't endorse.
I'm interested in their view on Locke. They think he was either an atheist or a "deist" as we understand the term today (cold, non-intervening distant deity). There is no question Locke was an "esoteric" something; but I doubt it was THAT as opposed to some kind of freethinker on doctrines like The Trinity. I haven't studied Hobbes as much as Locke, but I doubt he was an atheist or cold deist either.
Though Locke did seem to be influenced by Hobbes in the sense that they spoke of a "state of nature" and then of a "social contract and rights." They may have had different understandings of such; however they were still speaking on that common philosophical ground. On the religion issue, Strauss himself aptly noted that this construct was "wholly alien to the Bible." Yet, during the revolutionary era, the concept of state of nature/social contract and rights ended up being preached from the pulpit.
The Straussian discourse involves the implications of all of this.
Certainly, we live in a world influenced by the ideas of modern political philosophy—and Mansfield provides a key to this influence for the low price of his book. He introduces us to Hobbes, who provides an image of man in his natural condition, wherein he has a right to his own person, yet nothing to safeguard this right. God has no place in this state of war, where each person has the right to preserve his life in whatever way he judges necessary. What comes out of this natural state of war? The idea of the social contract—a new kind of government based upon reasonable consent. “Nature teaches men to preserve themselves,” Mansfield explains, “but … reason teaches men to seek peace by consenting to a common power over them, the sovereign.” Reason now is the foundation of government.
Locke gives us the right to private property by expanding man’s natural right to his own body to include a right to the products of man’s labor. This has direct political implications. For when men, once again driven by reason, exit the state of nature into the social contract, they do so not only to preserve life but to protect private property. Locke domesticates Machiavelli and Hobbes, and we see his influence overtly enshrined in documents like the Declaration of Independence.
Understanding America's Declaration of Independence as "domesticating Machiavelli and Hobbes" seems a bit of a stretch to me. Though, I agree that the notion of unalienable rights to life, liberty and pursuit of happiness really have nothing to do with the Bible or traditional practice of Christianity and that the DOI, although a theistic document, is not a "Christian" one.
The revolutionary language of America's DOI is more of a product of Enlightenment philosophy. However, there is other language in that document that speaks more of "resistance" under the extant positive law that resonates with reformed theology/philosophy.
Catholics Persecuted Protestants; Protestants Persecuted Catholics; and Protestants Persecuted One Another.
The different sects disagreed with one another. But it went beyond mere disagreement. America's founders were acutely aware of the history of religious conflict that occurred after the Protestant reformation. The "political-theological problem," recent in their historical memory, that America's founders wished to transcend. This needs to be stressed to understand how America's founders understood the notion of "liberty of conscience" which they viewed as the most "unalienable" of rights.
I was in hopes that the enlightened & liberal policy which has marked the present age would at least have reconciled Christians of every denomination so far that we should never again see their religious disputes carried to such a pitch as to endanger the peace of Society.
There is contention over whose ideology is responsible for the American founding. As I see it, the ideological origins of the American founding came from disparate streams that formed an amalgam. Christianity, or Protestant Christianity, was one of four or five chief ideological sources (see Bernard Bailyn). Though, the Protestant Christian component was extremely "pluralistic" for lack of a better term, in a sectarian sense of the term (pluralities of sects).
Mark David Halland othersargue that reformed/Calvinism predominated. That may be true. However, there were plenty of other sects who not only fought for their "place at the table," but did so with a strong distrust of Calvinists, especially of the Presbyterian bent. This is John Adams writing on how he regretted his recommendation for a National Fast as President because of Presbyterian distrust!
The National Fast, recommended by me turned me out of office. It was connected with the general assembly of the Presbyterian Church, which I had no concern in. That assembly has allarmed and alienated Quakers, Anabaptists, Mennonists, Moravians, Swedenborgians, Methodists, Catholicks, protestant Episcopalians, Arians, Socinians, Armenians, & & &, Atheists and Deists might be added. A general Suspicon prevailed that the Presbyterian Church was ambitious and aimed at an Establishment of a National Church. I was represented as a Presbyterian and at the head of this political and ecclesiastical Project. The secret whisper ran through them “Let us have Jefferson, Madison, Burr, any body, whether they be Philosophers, Deists, or even Atheists, rather than a Presbyterian President.” This principle is at the bottom of the unpopularity of national Fasts and Thanksgivings. Nothing is more dreaded than the National Government meddling with Religion.
Finally, much has been made about Thomas Jefferson's letter to the Danbury Baptists wherein he invokes the term "separation of church and state." Much ink has been spilt on "the context" of what was meant by Jefferson's "Wall of Separation" and the implications thereof. Here is something to keep in mind: The "context" of the letter was a "complaint" about a particular religious sect who had control over Connecticut's then religious establishment -- the reformed/Calvinistic Congregational Church. Both Jefferson and the Danbury Baptists wanted to be "separate" from THEM. That's against whom their "wall" was directed.
Mark David Hall and his cohorts have shown an undeniably powerful, reformed/Calvinistic component driving the political-theological dimensions of the American founding. The "Calvinist resisters" as they have been termed, because they taught a privilege/right/duty to "resist tyranny." Here is Mark quoting John Adams on the matter:
In 1787, John Adams wrote that John Ponet’s Short Treatise on Politike Power (1556) contains “all the essential principles of liberty, which were afterwards dilated on by Sidney and Locke.” He also noted the significance of Stephanus Junius Brutus’ Vindiciae Contra Tyrannos. ...
Other names in this tradition might include Samuel Rutherford of "Lex Rex" fame and John Knox, who lead the reformation of the Church of Scotland. Calvin, as part of the political leadership of the City State of Geneva, saw a theological unitarian named Michael Servetus executed for heresy. To the extent that Calvin's 16th and 17th century "resisters" spoke on the matter, to a man, they supported Servetus' execution. A later generation of reformed thinkers, including America's founders John Witherspoon, Roger Sherman and others would not have supported what happened to Servetus because by that time they had accepted principles of liberty of conscience as taught by John Locke and his successors.
Locke was not necessarily the first figure to argue for the right to freely practice and publicly speak on matters that others view as heretical. But, it's important to note that they came from outside of the Calvinist/reformed tradition. The Dutch Arminians and the American Roger Williams anticipated Locke. However, America's founders, including ministers preaching from the pulpit, were much likelier to invoke Locke than Williams, or other sources who may have anticipated Locke.
This is ironic for numerous reasons, one of which is that Roger Williams founded an American colony. And to the extent that orthodox Christians like Witherspoon might wish to invoke a traditional orthodox Christian on the behalf of the proposition of "liberty of conscience" for all, they had that in Williams but instead turned to Locke, a putative Christian, but unorthodox, and who posited a notion of "state of nature/social contract and rights" that was, as Leo Strauss put it, "wholly alien to the Bible."
Whatever contributions the reformed Calvinist types contributed to the notions of political liberty in the American founding, it's not right to credit them for the notions of liberty of conscience/religious liberty that America's founders endorsed. For that we would have to credit other Christian traditions and the Enlightenment.
For perspective, realize that quarreling is in the spirit of this blog. The embedded video is roughly 13 minutes long and only scratches the surface of Dr. Hall's research. For a more in depth analysis with "point/counterpoint," see this post and thread where, after the release of Dr. Hall's book, Dr. Gregg Frazer, now a Dean at The Master's University, expressed his disagreement with Mark, and the late great Tom Van Dyke, of course, was there to chime in.
It is often assumed, with varying levels of confidence (depending on who is making the assertion), that the United States was founded as a Christian nation and only in recent decades has drifted away from its religious founding and roots. Repeated often enough and this assumption hardens into dogma or a default setting that some would call "common sense." Yet when we set aside inherited beliefs, perceived truths and the sense of certainty that seems requisite for any tribal mindset, we can begin to look at the founding-era record with more objectivity and sincerity. And if we have the courage to continue this pursuit, a different picture of America's Christian legacy comes into focus. The United States was not established as a Christian nation that later lost its way; it was created as a religiously plural republic whose later generations gradually constructed a specifically Christian (and overwhelmingly Protestant) national identity.
Religion permeated early American life. Churches, sermons, and biblical references were omnipresent. But the mere presence of religion in culture does not determine the character of the state. The relevant question is not whether the founders spoke religiously (of course they did...and did it A LOT), but whether they designed a government that was religiously Christian at its core.
Of course, one could easily point to evidence like Article VI of our Constitution that explicitly prohibits religious tests for office, but as Christian Nationalists will (correctly) point out, this does not prove much of anything. After all, a formal removal of "religious tests" does not equate to religious neutrality in law, culture or moral assumptions. And as our Late co-blogger, Brian Tubbs liked to point out, these protections could be seen as safeguards meant to protect religious institutions from government intrusion, not the other way around.
Yet the "religious tests" and the carefully worded prose of our nation's founding documents still reveal an important truth. At a time when European nations routinely grounded political authority in Christian identity, the framers produced a national charter that contains no appeal to God, no invocation of Christ, and no declaration of Christianity as a foundation of law. This omission was neither accidental nor uncontested. During ratification debates, objections were raised that the Constitution failed to acknowledge Christianity. Yet no corrective language was ever added.
It is almost as if this was intentional. =)
James Madison’s writings explain why. In his Memorial and Remonstrance Against Religious Assessments (1785), which opposed state support for religion in Virginia, Madison argued that religion could be directed only by “reason and conviction, not by force or violence.” Government involvement, he warned, violated conscience and corrupted faith. Years later, reflecting on church–state entanglements in his Detached Memoranda, Madison concluded that religious establishments had been “seen to result in pride and indolence in the Clergy; ignorance and servility in the laity.”
This concern was not unique to Madison. John Adams, whose own religious views would certainly be seen as unorthodox by today's evangelical standards, grasped the institutional meaning of the American experiment. In his Defence of the Constitutions of Government of the United States (1787) Adams wrote, "[T]he strength of a republic depends on religion and morality...these are cultivated voluntarily, not by law." And even in his famous Treaty of Tripoli, which Christian Nationalists dismiss as a pragmatic compromise at best, or an olive branch to the Muslim world at worst, there is little ambiguity in the words Adams chose to employ: "the government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian Religion.” Regardless of personal persuasion, the fact remains that it is exceedingly difficult to argue that this sentence somehow misrepresents the founding assumptions about government and religion.
What is striking is that many Christians of this era were deeply uneasy with this arrangement. Ministers complained that the Constitution failed to acknowledge God. Others feared that liberty of conscience would undermine public morality. Their protests are revealing. They suggest that the absence of Christian nationalism was noticed, and contested, by contemporaries, rather than silently assumed as the nation’s foundation.
It is only in later generations that explicitly Christian nationalist language grows more confident. In the decades following the Civil War, American nationalism underwent a transformation. Trauma, reunification, and rapid social change encouraged the fusion of Protestant identity with national purpose. Movements emerged to amend the Constitution to recognize Christianity explicitly -- an effort that would have made little sense if such recognition already existed in any of our founding documents.
By the twentieth century, Christian nationalism became even more firmly embedded, particularly during the Cold War. In response to atheistic communism, religious language was mobilized as a marker of national identity. “Under God” was added to the Pledge of Allegiance in 1954. “In God We Trust” was elevated to official national motto in 1956. These changes were openly acknowledged as modern responses to contemporary threats, yet they were often framed as restorations of original principles.
Over time, this layered memory blurred chronology. The Founders’ religious language was lifted from its context and repurposed. Personal expressions of faith were mistaken for constitutional commitments. The result was a narrative in which Christian nationalism appeared ancient when it was, in fact, largely modern.
What the founding generation created was neither a secular vacuum nor a Christian state. It was something more restrained and, for its time, more radical. In George Washington’s 1790 letter to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, he offered a vision of that order, promising that the government “gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance.” Religious belief was protected precisely because the state claimed no authority to define it.
Christian nationalism, then, is not a suppressed founding inheritance waiting to be reclaimed. It is a later construction -- shaped by war, fear, and cultural conflict -- that draws selectively on the past for legitimacy. Recognizing this does not diminish religion’s role in American history. It clarifies it. And it reminds us that the founders’ most enduring insight may have been their refusal to entrust the power of the state with the fate of the soul.
