Happy Independence Day to everyone! I’m about to go celebrate by parasailing over the Maui coast, but I thought I’d link to a few things I’ve written on Mormonism and the Fourth of July:

• Over at Religion and Politics, I wrote about the fraught relationship between the LDS Church and the American government, as seen through their celebration of the holiday. (Link)
• As one evidence of that dynamic, here is Parley Pratt “declaring independence over again” after Joseph Smith’s death. (Link)
• While writing for Peculiar People, I wrote about the cultural origins of Mormonism’s modern-day uber patriotism. (Link)

May your holiday be filled with ambiguity and tension!

This last weekend I had the great privilege to attend “Mormonism in the Academy: Teaching, Scholarship, & Faith,” a colloquium held in honor of Richard Bushman. You can read the full program and bios at this site. It was a mix of intellectual rigor, personal reflection, and charitable engagement–all hallmarks of Bushman himself. I went through and storified all the live-tweeting here, which should give a decent (if very imperfect) overview of the various presentations.

Spencer Fluhman, the new director of the Maxwell Institute and organizer of the conference, said that Bushman specifically asked for this format: leading Mormon scholars deliver papers on how they situate Mormonism within the academic world, followed by renowned non-Mormon experts who have a connection to Bushman. There were certainly hiccups with this structure, as many of the panels were quite disparate and it was nearly impossible for the commenter–often someone with little background in Mormonism–to weave them all together. But it overall worked out quite well, as the respondents used the occasion to ruminate on faith, scholarship, and friendship. That such esteemed figures were willing to come out and participate is a testament to Bushman’s wide-reaching network. And the fact that several of them–most notably Harvard’s David Hall–opened up to share very personal and private religious beliefs demonstrates how highly they think of Bushman’s example. It was fitting that at a conference held in honor of Bushman, who has made it his quest in the last decade to show his vulnerability in terms of faith and knowledge, many others were surprisingly willing to demonstrate a similar vulnerability.

As one might expect, the praise was profuse. Richard Brown, one of the most respected historians of early America, noted that he holds no scholar in higher esteem than Richard Bushman. Duke Divinity’s Grant Wacker said that Bushman has exhibited an apologia for living a “good life” more than nearly anyone else he knows. All testified of his committed friendship and inimitable wit. After Bushman’s keynote address, one commenter during the Q&A attested to what a great Bishop he was. The breadth and depth of Bushman’s reach and touch may never be replicated. Not only is he one of the most respected historians who just so happens to be Mormon, but he is also one of the faith’s greatest emissaries. It is clear that people are as in awe of his congenial character as they are of his scholarly content.

Anyways, I look forward to the published proceedings.

One last word related to the conference. It is both ironic and fitting that this event was the first to take place after Spencer Fluhman was appointed director of the Maxwell Institute. In a way, it’s a useful transition point. Bushman represents how far Mormon scholarship has come in the last fifty years, and BYU’s appointment of Fluhman portends to where Mormon scholarship could go from here. Responsible, collegial, and academically integrative–these are the hallmarks of Bushman’s legacy, and they also happen to be attributable to Fluhman’s own approach and reputation. As Bushman once said, we are now truly entering a golden age.

I’ve been thinking a lot about secularism lately. Not just because my own faith tradition seems to be grappling with it in new and interesting ways, but also because it has become a point of emphasis in my new book project on the political theologies of the Transcendentalists. (I argue that their beliefs offer a counter-narrative to the traditional narratives of disenchantment during the nineteenth century, as they sought to put more divinity into politics, not less.) But I was also confronted again with it on Saturday when Jared Hickman delivered a very smart paper on the secularities of the Book of Mormon. So, the topic’s been on my mind.

Which is why I was pleased to see the just-released issue of Journal of the Early Republic has a disciplinary essay by Christopher Grasso on “The Religious and the Secular in the Early American Republic,” where he draws from recent advances in history, philosophy, religious studies, and anthropology to posit what these knew theoretical models can tell us about America’s past. (I was especially pleased to find that he begins the essay with the Transcendentalists!) He highlights the “instability and ambiguity” of these potent contexts (“religious” and “secular”) and gives a crash-course guide through recent dialogues. “Is secularism an ideology?” Grasso asks. “A sociohistorical process? A modern epistemic category that we impose on the past?” He probes the issue in provocative ways, and succeeds in both showing the superficial nature historians have typically engaged the topic as well as pointing to new potential directions. (He also reminds me that I will have to actually make it through Charles Taylor’s A Secular Age at some point; I’m sure my fifth try will be the charm!)

The essay is an immensely useful overview of the past decade’s scholarship on religion in the early republic, from Thomas Kidd to Amanda Porterfield to Sam Haselby to Spencer Fluhman to Ann Taves. I’m especially grateful that he helped me make more sense of John Modern’s book, with which I often struggle. I’m certainly adding the essay to my graduate syllabus on American religious history this fall; it will be useful for my students to understand how “cultural politics” have defined the boundaries between “religious” and “secular” both back then and today.

I’m sure I speak for many when I say I look forward to Grasso’s forthcoming book on Skepticism and American Faith: From the Revolution to the Civil War, which will appear from Oxford UP. Though I’m a bit of a Grasso hipster, in that I was anxious for his skepticism work before it was cool. See his essays and articles here, here, and here. (This last one I’ve used in class a few times with great rewards–students loved it!)

A quick, final note: this essay is apparently the first in an annual series JER will have on “Surveying the Fields,” where scholars will grapple with similar disciplinary developments. Sounds like a great idea! I’m really excited to see what they come up with next year.

Over at Juvenile Instructor I posted an essay looking at one of the classic texts in New Mormon History and a foundational book on the subject I’m currently engaging: Robert Flanders’s Nauvoo: Kingdom on the Mississippi. Besides evaluating its strengths and shortcomings I also gauge how the field has developed in the last half-century. Here’s the closing paragraph:

It is easy to pick at methodological holes in a fifty-year-old-book. But the fact that the book is still worth dealing with is a testament to its importance. More, historiographical classics are often representative of the scholarly settings in which they were written. Kingdom on the Mississippi was one of the foundational works of New Mormon History, and it helped move the field in new and important trajectories. Yet just like the historical craft itself, revisiting it is like traveling to a foreign world, and the voyage is quite instructive not only for your destination, but also the land from which you came.

(And yes, I  know this kind of stuff is very inside baseball. For the overly-specialized of the over-specialized nerds, if you will.)