IIf you’re reading this, you’re weird.
More precisely, you are historically weird: much of what you take for granted in life is unusual, even unprecedented.
To cite just a few examples: This morning, you benefited from access to indoor plumbing. You (most likely) didn’t grow any of the foods you’ll eat today. You expect your society to include people of different religious beliefs. You think people should choose who to marry for themselves. And you are literate, unlike most people over time; Even more surprising, this language you are reading is currently used by more than 2 billion people around the world.
In each of these ways, you and I are weird – or, more precisely, WEIRD, to quote the acronym of researcher Joseph Henrich designating modern societies that could be described, overall, as Western, educated, industrialized, rich and democratic. In his new book, Remaking the World: How 1776 Created the Post-Christian WestAndrew Wilson argues that the modern era is even STRANGER, adding two adjectives to Henrich’s formula: Ex-Christian and Romantic.
Wilson, British clergyman and author (and columnist for CT) does a brilliant job of showing us our strangeness. Much of what we experience as normal, from a historical perspective, is quite odd. These “oddities” arise from relatively recent developments, and Wilson sets out to explain where they come from and what they mean for being a Christian today.
A time of revolutions
How did we become WEIRDER? The answer, for Wilson, lies in 1776. That year saw seven different transformations – political, philosophical, cultural, technological and economic – that produced the post-Christian West.
One of them is particularly famous: Independence Day, which marked the beginning of an “age of revolutions” that resulted in most of the world’s population living in a democratic republic. But that was just one of the unfolding dramas.
In 1776, HMS Resolution, commanded by James Cook, begins an epic voyage around the world, driven, in Wilson’s words, by “the winds of curiosity and commerce.” Understanding how and why this journey was undertaken helps us understand the beginnings of globalization and how the world became westernized.
In 1776, James Watt’s steam engine, a huge cotton mill and a canal linking Manchester and Liverpool were all opened for commercial use. The Industrial Revolution that began in the north of England would change virtually everything about the way we work, marry, consume, wage war, and much more.
In 1776, Adam Smith published The wealth of nations, just as global living standards began to rise dramatically. The next “great enrichment” means that in 2023 the average person “has a standard of living approximately ten times higher than in 1776.”
In 1776, the seeds of romanticism were sown: the philosopher Rousseau celebrated “authenticity” and self-discovery; German literati experimented with emotionally intense styles; celebrity sex scandals in London have undermined traditional sexual norms. The Romantic movement that emerged over the next decades produced an understanding of self that we take for granted today.
In 1776, important works were written by Kant, Gibbon, Hume, and Diderot, “enlightened” philosophers who changed the way we think and educate. Long-standing Protestant iconoclasm combined with a new appreciation of pagan antiquity. The result? A corrosive skepticism which ended up making the West post-Christian.
Wilson explains each of these massive developments (the American Revolution, the beginnings of globalization, the Industrial Revolution, the Great Enrichment, Romanticism, the Enlightenment, and the rejection of Christianity) with remarkable nuance and conciseness. The result is a captivating story in which global transformations and fascinating characters shine through.
Tracing global revolutions over a single year may seem like overkill, but such focus proves useful. Looking through a narrow framework, chronologically speaking, Wilson can describe a wide range of developments side by side. This story is like life itself, in which national elections take place in a world no different from that of industrial engineering, family dinners, or best-selling celebrity memoirs.
Examples of loyalty
Wilson’s historical account is interesting in its own right, but he wants us to learn it for one particular reason: to live faithfully in the post-1776 West.
Fortunately, the book does not offer a silver bullet. For those looking for a key that will magically unlock all of the Church’s problems, Wilson will not satisfy. Instead, his final interpretations are every bit as thoughtful and measured as his historical research is well-supported.
Wilson draws our attention to examples of Christian faithfulness from 1776: those who spoke eloquently of God’s grace, such as John Newton and Olaudah Equiano; those like Lemuel Haynes and Granville Sharp who defended physical and religious freedoms; and a brilliant philosopher, Johann Georg Hamann, who vigorously criticized the Enlightenment skeptic’s reductive understanding of truth.
These “prophets” deserve to be heard, because each of them “cultivated Christian ways of thinking, acting and feeling extremely well adapted to the STRANGER world that was emerging around them”.
What’s new today? Christianity is by no means dying, but the Western Church is witnessing a decline in both numbers and influence. It is no wonder that some (on both the left and the right) insist that the Church must radically rethink its approach.
This is not the case for Wilson. Instead, he argues, we must embrace repentance, prayer, and renewal. In particular, we should follow in the footsteps of the “prophets” of 1776, speaking of grace, freedom, and truth in a way that powerfully responds to the challenges of our STRANGER world.
In a world burdened by privilege, obsessed with identity, and concerned with status, the Church celebrates the grace of God, which overturns each of these obsessions.
In a world that values outward freedom – but fails to recognize our inner enslavement to sin – the Church advocates for the holistic spiritual and physical liberation promised by Jesus.
And, in a post-truth world, the Church offers a narrative of reality, grounded in God’s Creation and revelation, that is both meaningful and hopeful.
More to explore
Grace, freedom and truth: to each of these exhortations, I say a hearty “Amen!” If I have one complaint, it’s that I would like it even more. I wonder what else this story suggests about the challenges and opportunities faced in the post-Christian West.
For example, how has becoming a WEIRDER changed our commitment to the Church? Our religious lives are less and less defined by membership in a local congregation. Even among those who identify as evangelicals, church participation is often sporadic or even optional. This neglect can be attributed to the way evangelicalism and its institutions expanded around the world from 1776 onward, producing what the late JI Packer called “a stunted ecclesiology.”
How could fidelity require a renewed doctrine of the Church?
How important, in turn, might spiritual disciplines be in a STRANGER world? We could tell the world after 1776 as a story of the erosion of Christian practices. For example, one of the most alarming, though underappreciated, developments in the American Church has been the conversion of Sunday from a day of worship to a day of work, consumption, and entertainment (especially involving sports for young people). Increasingly, the way we spend our days and weeks is no different than any other American consumer.
How could we resist this corrosive effect by returning to classic spiritual disciplines: Sabbath practice, hospitality, and fasting, to name a few? How can these proven ways of being a Christian deepen our faith and strengthen our testimony?
Finally, what could we learn from the rest of the Catholic Church? As the West moves toward post-Christianity, how might we find our identity in belonging to the “communion of saints” that extends across time and into the world today? Perhaps more than ever, we need to rediscover the catholicity of faith.
Part of this recovery involves greater attention to the other half of Western Christianity. Wilson’s cast of characters is diverse in many ways, but Roman Catholics rarely appear. To be fair, the countries that paved the way to becoming WEIRDER were predominantly Protestant, and Wilson points out that Protestantism, more than Catholicism, seemed to encourage all seven of these developments.
Nevertheless, in 1776, in 2023, and every year in between, Roman Catholics outnumbered all Protestants combined. Over the past 250 years, Catholics have adapted to these global developments, provided their own examples of missionary engagement, and borne witness to Christ, including through large-scale martyrdom. Incisive critiques of the post-Christian West came from Catholic intellectuals, notably Brad Gregory and Charles Taylor, whose “grand narratives” Wilson acknowledges.
And, speaking of dramatic transformations, one of the most remarkable developments in Christian history has occurred over the past half-century: Catholic and evangelical believers and leaders have left behind centuries of mutual recriminations for increasingly charitable dialogue and cooperation.
What could we learn from our Catholic brothers and sisters about faithfulness in a STRANGER world? How might post-1776 history change – or not – by including the other half of the Western Church?
Asking more of a work that already covers so much ground risks seeming ungrateful. It’s a testament to Wilson’s accomplishment and I’d be happy to read even more from him on the subject. Maybe that makes me weird. After this remarkable book, I’m not afraid to admit it.
Paul Gutacker is executive director of Brazos Fellows, a postgraduate fellowship in Waco, Texas. He is the author of The Old Faith in a New Nation: American Protestants and the Christian Past.
