The hard life of a circuit preacher in the 1860s.

Is America losing its faith? Recent polls show less than half of us belong to any organized religion. The percentage of Americans regularly attending church is even smaller (about 25 percent), and this figure continues to drop.

We seem to have come a long way from the early 1800s, when European visitors remarked how much religion influenced the conduct of Americans. The country seemed immersed in the Christian ethic back then. Its cities were crowded with churches; its art and literature filled with references to God, salvation, and the Bible.

Yet the religious influences in American society were probably not as great as they seem now. In many American communities, church membership never rose much higher than 50 percent. And though the national average reached 75 percent by the 1950s, it had been climbing slowly from the turn of the century. In those days, ministers and pastors had been alarmed at the poor church attendance which, they argued, had been caused by science, the modern novel, and Ford’s new Model T.

In those years, Rebecca Harding Davis regularly contributed articles to the Post about the changes she’d seen in her 73 years. In 1906, she wrote that nothing reflected the change in modern America like the decline of Christianity as her grandparents had practiced it. Recalling her youth in western Virginia in the 1830s, she wrote, “The dominant fact about a man at that time was his religion. … It was the important fact then about every man—as it is not today.”

An open-air, gospel camp meeting of the 1840s.

Religion then possessed every man’s thoughts, partly because there was not much else to possess them. Living was simple and cheap. … Each individual worked his way alone upon his narrow path. There were no guilds or leagues or unions to absorb his thoughts. Hence his brain was busied with his own little life and the two agents at work in it—God and the devil. You felt them near you at every turn. You heard of them every moment of the day.

The God, of whom our forefathers talked … was no awful or unknown Creator. … Blacksmiths and ditch-diggers talked as familiarly of [God’s] acts and intentions, as if they had been in His cabinet of advisers when the world was made. They gave Him the human qualities that were most admirable in their own eyes—chief of all, an unreasoning will, and inexorable, merciless justice.

This grim Deity was a real fact to these people. Religion in their souls was not so much a glad, absolute trust in a loving Father, or a brotherly kindness for their neighbors, as a perpetual terror and fearful expectation of judgment.

Strange, horrible ideas grew up out of this ignorance and fear, and made their lives miserable. One of these was the unpardonable sin: an undefined, nameless crime that God never pardoned, even when the sinner had borne eternities of hell. In almost every village there were slow-witted men or starved, anemic girls who believed that they had been guilty of this mysterious crime.

To her grandfather, Christianity was a matter of dogma; to her peers it was a matter of deeds. The older generation believed it could avoid hell only by holding fast, without question, to certain doctrines. Its grandchildren were more likely to ignore creeds “and strive for a life of honesty, purity and brotherly love.”

But the religion of her grandfather was far from heartless and demanded more than belief alone. It directed him to take care of his family and neighbors.

Foreigners counted for nothing to him, but he was loyal to the death to his kin and to his neighbors.
These old forebears of ours built no hospitals, but should one of their neighbors fall ill with typhus they all took turns in nursing him, day and night, for weeks.

If he died and his children had no kinsfolk, they took them home and brought them up as their own. It was simply a matter of course then that these things should be done. There was scarcely a family in our village which had not its orphan child—’to bring a blessing on the house.’

What this faith lacked in flexibility, it made up for in durability—an essential quality in faith for people with hard lives, few comforts, and little security. And if these men didn’t always extend charity to strangers, at least they required integrity in themselves.

Rebecca Harding Davis, 1831-1910.

Our stern old grandfather was as merciless to his own sins as to those of his neighbor. He never had heard of graft. He wronged no man of a penny.

He might berate his old wife, but he was true to her. You heard of no divorces then. His life was narrow and hard, perhaps, but it was clean and true. He had an intense, jealous love for his own kin … but I confess he had not much for outsiders. None of his hard-earned money went to the help of unknown strangers.

He strove with God without ceasing all of his life for the salvation of his own family. It was a common custom for these old fathers and mothers to rise long before the day to wrestle alone in prayer for their boys and girls.

There was, too, more outward reverence shown then by children to parents than there is today. [A father] was apt to impress upon his boys several times a day his conviction of his divine right to rule them. There was seldom any intimacy between them, however deep the affection might be. [And] often, with the purest and highest motives, [these fathers] made home so bare of comfort or pleasure that their sons were driven outside to find it.

American religion had grown more compassionate, Ms. Davis believed, because less was demanded of it. Life had become easier. Americans now lived with prosperity and peace their grandparents had never known. Fewer tragedies and disasters forced them to seek explanation or solace from religion.

But when tragedy returns, as it did on September 11, 2001, so does the need for faith.

The Decline of Old-Time Religion The Saturday Evening Post

Muhammad Ali

Muhammad Ali, now 70 years old, is one of America’s most admired athletes. He has received an honorary doctorate at Princeton University, the Spirit of America award, the Presidential Citizens Medal, and the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

All these honors in late life could obscure the fact that Muhammad Ali, in his youth, was a highly controversial figure—a racial revolutionary, some feared.

Ali had been generally popular up to the day he beat Sonny Liston in 1964 to become boxing’s heavyweight champion. Shortly afterward, though, he announced that he’d joined the Nation of Islam, and changed his name from Cassius Marcellus Clay.

The Nation of Islam was then widely regarded by the American media as a highly dangerous group. There were fearful rumors that the Black Muslims would forcibly create a separate nation for black Americans. So when Ali announced his conversion, the media reacted as if they had been betrayed. A Post editorial from ’64 captures the tone of dismissal and fear.

For a time, when he was confining himself to bad poetry, Cassius was a loudmouth but a likable character who seemed to be harmless in or out of the ring. Then he won the championship and became, in his own estimation, “The Greatest.” After the fight, he acknowledged that he was a Black Muslim, converted by the arch-extremist, Malcolm X, the man who crowed that President Kennedy’s assassination was “a case of the chickens coming home to roost.” Malcolm X was separated from the Black Muslim movement after that remark and is now attempting to organize his own black nation. He wants to arm all the Negroes in the U.S. and ultimately take them back to Africa.

One Post writer went so far as to hint that Ali was simply using his status as a Black Muslim to increase ticket sales.

Muhammad Ali training in 1964.

Clay’s history of calculated deceptions now prompts the suspicion, of course, that his present case of galloping religion is but another decoy to serve who knows what end. Clay himself strengthened the suspicion when he declared, “Just by my being a Muslim, that should draw a bigger gate…”

On re-examination, however, Clay’s remarks were nothing more than cute verbiage. He well knows… that his commitment to Islam has cost him roughly two million dollars in commercial endorsements.

The quote came from a ’64 Post article, “Muslim Champ,” by Myron Cope, which generally overlooked Ali the boxer to focus on Ali the Muslim. Cope regarded Ali’s new faith with frank derision.

Cassius Marcellus Clay, who now calls himself Brother Muhammad Ali… is convinced he is a beacon of righteousness in a wicked world.

Having succeeded Malcolm X as the loudest [sic] Black Muslim, Clay has been fighting a socio-religious battle with the Christian world, and this, more than anything else, seems to have taken away his former exuberance. He still acts the clown for TV cameras but only to sell fight tickets.

Ali in Harlem.

Reading the article today, it’s clear that Cope’s preconceptions were obscuring his view of Ali. He claimed that Ali had “completely severed communication with whites,” even though Ali spoke freely with Cope for this article. Ali also proves himself to be more tolerant than Cope concerning the use of his old name.

“Call me Muhammad or call me Ali,” Clay advised as we drove to his house, “but if you forget and call me Cassius, that won’t bother me none.”

Cope didn’t forget. He deliberately referred to him throughout the article as Cassius Clay. And though he portrayed Ali as a zealot of his new “cult,” the champion voiced rather middle-of-the-road political opinions.

Cruising along, the new Clay discussed politics. “Kennedy,” he said, “just seemed so nice, he didn’t seem like a President.” He expressed an admiration for Barry Goldwater, saying that “he say what he thinks.”

In fact, Ali showed himself to be little changed from the spirited, sociable boxer Cope had traveled with in his pre-championship days.

I had been unwilling to believe that a young man with so bright a gift for teasing the world could hate. Henry H. Arrington, a Negro attorney and adviser to Martin Luther King, Jr., told me; “I can assure you I have never seen any indication whatsoever of Cassius disliking white people generally.”

Muhammad Ali in 1964.

Whatever the actual teaching propounded in the Muslim meetings, Clay denies that he considers all whites to be devils. “I’m stressing just the works that the whites generally have been doing,” he said in his dressing room. “They blow up all these little colored people in church, wash people down the street with water hoses. It’s not the color that make you a devil, just the deeds that you do.

“It’s as our leader Elijah Muhammad teaches us. Couldn’t nobody argue it. I’m no authority on Islam. I am just a follower. If you be a blue race, and you do the works of the devil, then we can call you a devil. You got white people who died under demonstrations, died under tractor wheels for colored people. I wouldn’t call them no devil.”

He was attracted to the cult, he explained, because its people neither drank nor smoked, and they deported themselves well.

“I am an American; I was born here,” he said softly, trying to make himself understood. “Our leader and teacher will tell you himself, we respect America and respect whites for coming here and making a paradise from nothing. It’s not hate or fighting or arguing. We just want freedom.”

Ali’s religion was still a hot issue in 1965, when he fought former heavyweight champion Floyd Paterson. In an unpublished story, Post writer Bill Bridges described how the Ali-Patterson bout was being regarded as a test of Christianity and Muslim faiths. Some of Ali’s supporters, who had become estranged when he joined the Nation of Islam, were hoping that a Patterson victory would convince Ali to return to his old faith. After Patterson was defeated, however, there was no more talk about the match proving which was the superior faith.
 
The following photos were taken for Bill Bridges’ unpublished Post feature and were never printed.

Photo at top left: Ali exchanges angry looks at his former trainer, who had departed after Ali joined the Nation of Islam. Bottom left: the trainer can be seen mid-picture, with the arm of sports writer George Plimpton around his shoulders. He had hoped a defeat would return Ali to the Christian faith. Instead, with Ali victorious, the trainer returned to Ali who forgave him and rehired him as trainer.

Religion Steps into the Boxing Ring: Ali in ’64 The Saturday Evening Post

Why the need to find someone or some entity (the devil, for instance) to blame? It’s simply human nature to not take responsibility and “make it easier to live the unexamined life.”

Campbell writes in an easy-going but highly informative style that makes the reader think. For example, we learn that the term “scapegoat” has a quite literal origin. It was coined by William Tyndale in his 1530 translation of the Bible to describe the Jewish Day of Atonement ritual of sacrificing two goats. But this transference of sin was not exclusively a Jewish practice.

“Every early culture had ceremonies in which they removed sin from the community,” writes Campbell, previously Books Editor at The Literary Review. And the notion was ingrained that this sin or blame could be transferred to another entity. Sacrifice a goat, hang a witch, appease the spirits, and that should take care of inexplicable events like catastrophic weather for the time being. Convenient.

It was difficult for the Church to reconcile the fact that God was omnipotent with the fact that horrible things happened, so the Devil made an excellent scapegoat. Once persecuted, Christians became powerful and found others to persecute. Jews became “responsible” for a variety of ills, even the Black Death. In addition to these Christian and Jewish scapegoats, there is a chapter on “The Sexual Scapegoat,” which is, of course, woman. Blamed for the original sin, the misogyny continued through the witch hunts of the middle ages to explain local events, such as the death of a child or a fire. “Witches,” of course, were mostly female. The treatment of sacrificial animals is difficult to digest, but Campbell’s riveting account of the treatment of “witches” is heartrending.

And it continues today. On a private scale, where we once blamed the Devil or Fate, or a handy animal to stone or sacrifice, now we blame genes or upbringing. On a public scale, we can no longer blame Jews or Communists for problems such as our current economic woes, but there are plenty of rich bankers with fat bonuses we can blame. While some of that blame may fit, transferring censure eases the notion that we have any responsibility. It certainly cannot be our own fault for racking up unsustainable debt and blithely assuming a nice salary would be there forever and ever, amen. We need scapegoats.

“We still crave simple explanations for complex happenings,” writes Campbell. “We take false comfort in blaming others and in an age of technology where spreading these ideas has never been easier, it is perhaps an opportune time to take stock.”

If you’re one of those readers who likes to alternate your “light” and “heavy” reading, I would suggest that Scapegoat would fit anywhere in your early 2012 reading. The book gives a great deal of insight without plowing through tedious jargon. It does more than give us good water cooler or dinner conversational tidbits—it makes us stop and examine our all-too-human but non-productive tendency to find someone or something to blame. “So who is to blame, if not the scapegoat?” Campbell asks. “Well, we are, of course, for most things.”

This slim (208 pages), thought-provoking book will be published in February 2012 by The Overlook Press.

Book Review: Scapegoat The Saturday Evening Post

There are several reasons why Protestant Christians still rely on a translation made four centuries ago. There is tradition and familiarity. But there is also the power of the English language used in this work.

By good luck, or by the grace of God, King James commissioned this translation at a time when the expressive power of English was undergoing an incredible growth. As a 1951 Post article noted, the King’s translators proved highly creative in setting the biblical language of Aramaic and Greek into

the haunting phrases [that have] imprinted so deeply on the thoughts and imagery of all English-speaking people: “apple of his eye,” “powers that be,” “widow’s mite,” “filthy lucre,” “as a lamb to the slaughter,” “pearls before swine,” “worthy of his hire,” “broken reed,” “birds of the air,” “loaves and fishes,” “army with banners,” “clear as crystal,” “thorn in the flesh,” “still small voice,” “salt of the earth” —these are only a few.

The King’s goal was to produce a skilled, consistent, and rigorously edited version of scriptures (an earlier English translation of the Old Testament had included the commandment, “Thou shalt commit adultery.”) In the process, though, his scholars created a masterwork  that influenced all writers of English for centuries. The power of its message, set to its best advantage amid the imagery and cadence of deathless poetry, could reach out beyond the faithful to touch agnostics and non-believers.

Abraham Lincoln is a good example. He openly challenged the teachings of the Christian faith as a young man. He firmly refused offers to pray with others. He purposely eliminated the word “God” from his speeches, preferring the ambiguous term, “Maker.” And he professed no faith in any life after death. Yet as the Post article, “How Well Do You Know the Bible?” notes, Lincoln might have been—

the President who read the Bible most in office was Lincoln; the White House guards used to find him, before he had had breakfast in the morning, turning the pages of his Bible in the small room he used for a library.

He had read the whole Bible and memorized long pas­sages from it. Its words and phrases came frequently and effectively from his lips in speeches, political de­bates, and even casual conversation. Once, at a Cabinet meeting where his advisers were discussing the new green­back dollar bills that were issued during the Civil War, the question came up of what official slogan to print on them.

“In God we trust,” was suggested, but Lincoln had a more whimsical idea. “If you are going to put a legend on the greenbacks,” he said, “I would suggest that of Peter: ‘Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee,”’ quoting Acts iii. 6 verbatim.

Lincoln’s two greatest utterances, the Gettysburg Address and the Second Inaugural, are filled with the rich word poetry of the King James Version, and we have the almost unanimous word of his biographers that he found the Bible his principal solace at a time when the nation he headed was undergoing its most terrible internal trials. In the summer of 1864, when he was living in a cottage at the Soldiers’ Home on the outskirts of Washington, a friend named Joshua. Speed entered his room unexpectedly and found the President sitting near the window, read­ing his Bible by the light of failing day.

“I am glad to see you so profitably engaged,” remarked Speed, with a touch of lightness. .

“Yes,” said Lincoln. “I am profit­ably engaged.”

“Well,” said Speed, “if you have recovered from your skepticism I am sorry to say I have not.”

The tall President rose from his chair, placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, and looked him earnestly in the eye. “You are wrong, Speed,” he said. “Take all of this book upon rea­son that you can, and the balance on faith, and you will live and die a hap­pier and better man.”

The King James Bible: A Best-Seller Turns 400 The Saturday Evening Post

“Please, God, I need your help. I have a son at home, clothes to wash, and lunch to make. Please send me help.”

Through her tears, she noticed a young man standing in front of her. He bent down, picked up the hanger, and within six seconds opened the door.

“Thank you very much, sir,” said the grateful mom. “Are you a Christian?”

“No,” he said. “I just got out of prison.”

Sitting in the front seat of her car, she looked up to the sky and said, “Thank you, Lord, for sending me a professional.”

Michael Annese

Apple Valley, California

Door Jam The Saturday Evening Post

In Fireproof, Cameron plays a firefighter named Caleb, who is called a hero at work but facing marital strife and burnout at home. The inspiring and action-packed film cost $500,000 to make but as of early February has raked in more than $33 million in ticket sales and is now out on DVD.

While forever linked to his role as the lovable teenage troublemaker Mike Seaver on the award-winning TV series Growing Pains, the actor did an about face in his teens, converting to Christianity and leaving the Hollywood scene behind. In 1991, the former teen heartthrob married his on-screen girlfriend, actress Chelsea Noble. Seventeen years later, the couple—along with their six children—remains happily together.

The Post recently caught up with the actor to learn more about his latest movie, his family, and his faith.

In Fireproof, the firemen emphasize the firefighters’ creed “Never leave your partner behind.” While a theme in the movie, is this also a key to successful marriages?

Absolutely. Never leave your partner behind. Statistics today tell us that more than half of people who say “I do” at the altar end up with a failed marriage before long. In this movie, we wanted to uphold a very, very high standard of marriage in a day when marriage is attacked and undermined in many ways. The writers, producers, and I wanted to say, “No, marriage is honorable, sacred, and wonderful—a foundation for a family.”

Your character lives in a strained relationship on the verge of divorce. Both parties blame the problem on lack of respect. You say, “Marriages aren’t fireproof. Sometimes you get burned.” Do you believe that all marriages can be saved?

If including all possibilities, I would say yes. Now, there are extreme circumstances where marriages are just destroyed beyond hope of recovery. I was talking to a friend the other day who did everything he could possibly do to save his marriage, but his wife was just absolutely set on a divorce. You can’t make somebody love you and stay in a marriage if they don’t want to. But more often than not, both people suffer from the same thing—a chronic case of selfishness. If one person can find what it takes to make an about face and put 200 percent into loving their spouse, the effort can transform a person. Suddenly an antagonistic spouse begins to melt and warm up. Pretty soon, he or she starts to bloom into the flower you married. That’s what love can do. It’s certainly not easy. It takes hard work. For many people today, it’s just so easy to trade in your spouse for a newer model.

Your character, Caleb, questions his faith in the movie. Did he mirror your personal struggles with faith and belief?

Yes. I call myself a recovering atheist. When I was young, I never went to church. We never talked about God — never saw the need for it. Things were going great in my life. I was 9 years old and in the entertainment industry. Growing Pains was going great. I just started asking questions like, What happens when you die? Walking down that path and asking those questions led me to a place where really, with all my heart’s desire, I turned my heart to God and allowed God to make me the person that he created me to be. That has just transformed my life. When I get a chance to share that with people on a personal level or in an inspirational movie like Fireproof, I consider it a privilege.

Was there one central message you wanted to convey in the film?

A line in the movie keeps coming back to me. My character’s wife is talking with her girlfriends, and they’re consoling her. One of the ladies says, “A man has got to learn to be a hero to his wife before he can be one to anybody else.” She’s absolutely right. If you’re getting an A at work and a D at home, you’re not successful. You made a commitment and a vow. I know that marriage is hard and everyone has got their unique situations, but a man has to learn to be a hero to his wife and kids first before he can be a real hero.

What is the “Love Dare” challenge, and how did it translate into a book?

In the movie, the “Love Dare” is the 40-day challenge passed from father to son. It was just a plot device in the movie. There wasn’t a published book titled The Love Dare until after the movie was released, then everyone asked where to get that book. They wrote the book quickly so that they could release it with the opening of the movie. The 40-day challenge is to love your spouse unconditionally. Halfway through the dare, you realize you can’t do it. The standard for unconditional love goes against so much of your feelings, as a person who deals with pride and ego. You soon realize that “I don’t think I can do this without some help.” You then turn to the source of love and the creator of marriage and ask for help me.

Is it true that the film cost about $500,000 and grossed more than $33 million?

Yes. We were all very surprised when it turned out to stay in the top 10 and be the No. 1 independent movie last year. No one expected that. But we were confident that it was going to hit the bull’s eye because the script was great. We had high hopes and good expectations but the film’s success really exceeded what we thought would happen.

Did you donate your time and effort to support a personal mission?

I didn’t have a paycheck. I agreed to donate my time up front, like everybody had done in the move. And Sherwood Pictures — the filmmaker — made a donation to the nonprofit camp for terminally sick children and their families that my wife and I run. It’s called Camp Firefly.

Would you tell us about the camp?

Camp Firefly is a camp my wife and I started when we were working together on Growing Pains. We met many children through the Make-A-Wish Foundation. These were kids with terminal illnesses, who wished to come to the set, meet the cast, and get an autograph. Our hearts went out to these families who were dealing with such tragedy in their lives. We wanted to do more than sign a piece of paper, so we put together an all expenses paid week’s vacation. Then, we invited six of these families to get away from the hospitals, needles, and treatments to simply be together as a family and have fun. Forget about being sick. Be around other families who understand what they’re going through. We spend time together as families, getting to know each other, making new friends, talking about life and death, what’s important and what’s not. It turned out to be a real blessing in our life and in the lives of over a 100 families who had come to camp during the last 20 years. If you go to www.campfirefly.com or www.kirkcameron.com, you can find out all about it.

In Fireproof, you had a physically demanding role. Do you exercise regularly?

It was physically demanding. I like to keep in shape, but I had to gain 15 pounds of good, solid muscle for this movie to not only look the role but to be able to carry some of the equipment and do things I had to do. I followed firefighters before the movie to research and prepare, which was very helpful. When you really realize what firefighters do, the courage it takes, the way that they put their lives on the line for other people, and the discipline to be ready in an instant to rescue somebody’s life while you put your own in danger, they command a lot of respect.

Your wife Chelsea came in for the kiss at the end of the movie instead of the actress playing your wife. What was the reasoning behind that?

When I married Chelsea, it was important for me to reassure her that my love is for her alone, so she didn’t have to worry about me being one of these actors who’s going out with other women. I’m not going to be kissing any other woman but Chelsea. That is a promise I made to my wife regardless of what it did to my career. When we did this movie, the writers were on the same page and thought, Wouldn’t it be great to write this romantic scene that is just screaming for a kiss? Then, the writers would have Kirk’s wife put on the dress and wig the actress was wearing and shoot it in silhouette, so you can’t tell. It allowed me to keep my commitment to my wife and make the movie great and romantic.

Anything coming up in the future that people might want to know about?

I recently wrote and released an autobiography called Still Growing, which is a fun, entertaining journey back into the 1980s. You get a feel for what it was like to be a teen idol and how I wound as I am today.

You and your wife have six kids and been married for 17 years. How do you maintain autonomy from the Hollywood community?

I just really dig being with my family most of all, and I don’t live right in the center of the commotion in Los Angeles. I live in the outskirts. We have a nice, big backyard for our kids, and my life is really about my family. My friends are really not in the industry—a separation that is just healthy overall. Your best friends are not the people you’re competing against in business.

Kirk Cameron: Still Growing The Saturday Evening Post