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If religion in America were bought and sold like a stock, now might be a good time to short it in a big way. In recent weeks and months, a number of pundits have declared that the American love affair with organized religion — and Christianity in particular — is over. Recent surveys suggest that church attendance, already faltering in the 21st century, still hasn't recovered in the wake of the pandemic.
But before we conclude that we're headed for a godless future, consider the longer ebb and flow of religiosity in this country. In the distant past, organized religion often lost adherents, only to rebound a generation later. And in modern times, church attendance and membership have proven deeply misleading, leading otherwise-sensible observers to assume that secular thinking will triumph.
Many Americans have a vague idea that the first European settlers to the American colonies came here to escape religious persecution. That's sort of true, up to a point: the Puritans in New England did; so, too, did various sects who settled in tolerant Pennsylvania. But many of the first settlers spent more time worshipping Mammon than the Christian God. Even the Puritans, religious zealots of the highest order, lost much of their initial enthusiasm by the late 1600s. By the 1690s, church membership in the region had plummeted to 15%.
That said, this same period underscores the peril of using church attendance as a proxy for religiosity. The aristocratic planters of 17th-century Virginia may well have attended the Anglican church on Sundays, but was this evidence that they genuinely embraced religion? One study of a typical Virginia county points to the answer being "no." It found that only 15% of white infants were baptized between 1649 and 1680.
One clergyman visiting Maryland in the 1680s described the colony as beyond redemption — a place in which "the Lord's day is profaned, religion despised, and all notorious vices committed … it is become a Sodom of uncleanliness and a pest house of iniquity."
Here, too, we see another lesson. When it comes to religion, the old adage about investing (past performance is not predictive of future results) applies equally well. A handful of preachers on both sides of the Atlantic — Gilbert Tennent, Jonathan Edwards and, most famous of all, George Whitefield — led an interdenominational revival defined by emotional, even ecstatic services and conversions.