I feel like I need a lengthy post in here, but between illness and responsibilities, my brain juices haven't been flowing too well.

I'm not sure how I feel about Eck's book. I feel like she does an incredible service by presenting as much of the minority religious life of America as she does. People need to see and hear what life is like for those people, what is going on for them, and so forth. Her book is quite good at inspiring a much-needed empathy and sense of shared American identity amidst our differences. I'm not just saying these things as a way of making myself sound equanimous before I criticize her; I legitimately feel that she has done a true service by creating that informed tome, and I think it's something that a lot of people should read.

I think that everybody's right about what she chooses to focus on, though. There is a lot she could provide to fill out the portrait of what is going on in the lives of these individuals. Knowing the history of these groups and who has written what on the walls of their house of worship is imperative, but it would be neat to see the book from more angles. By failing to take on much of the criticism of the traditions (I did not read the chapter on Muslims, and I assume she took on those kinds of arguments there to some degree), she leaves half her argument untouched. Yes, they may be baseless or related more to economically-informed resentment or whatever, but issues should be put out there. Why is it that Koreans flourished in an area where blacks continued to live in poverty? She briefly mentioned the scandals in Tassajara, but what about the damaging cults that have often arisen around Hindu gurus? If Islam has nothing to do with terrorism, why do terrorists keep phrasing it in Islamic terminology? I don't think these questions are terribly difficult to answer, and I think they could even strengthen Eck's thesis to some degree. By focusing just on the destruction of houses of worship, she turns the immigrants into martyrs, which will definitely endear them to the reader, but it also idealizes them. In the end, that is not something positive, because it takes just one little incident to make someone say, “Oh! Everything Eck said about them was a lie! They’re not immaculate, after all!”

I started reading Soul Searching, and I’m reading the part on the statistics now. It was funny to see them outright say, “Harvard’s Diana Eck asserts that the United States is the most religiously diverse nation in the world. That simply is not true” (32). I wonder if their criteria for what it means to be a “religiously diverse nation” is different than Eck’s. Eck doesn’t give a lot of statistics, but she presents a picture of an incredibly diverse nation that tolerates and welcomes a great deal of traditions, allowing themselves to express themselves. Yes, numerically, we’re a Christian nation, but not by law, which I think she provides some good evidence for. Compared to what it means to be a Muslim nation, or a Buddhist nation, or even a nominally secular nation that still favors a particular tradition, we are not a Christian nation. Smith and Denton’s footnote just references the book itself, and doesn’t give any page numbers or commentary, so they might just be debating her title and subtitle.

I’m really wondering what Soul Searching will be like. The authors have a weird approach, and I’m not quite sure why. The chapter about the Baptist girls was an unsettling combination of seeing the interviewees as individuals and seeing them as abstractions, though I think it’s an acceptable approach. The whole “I could see she was not blessed with features reflecting cultural standards of physical beauty” rubbed me the wrong way. I dunno.

I think I just have an issue with sociology. Taking Sociology of Religion now, it doesn’t strike me as a science. It’s all so unverifiable, and it makes labels into something so much more than they possibly can be. I’m sure I’m giving it a hard time, and that if I were to look at its methods, I’d see more validity, but I just don’t like what wide brushes it paints. The first paragraph Smith and Denton have in the chapter on statistics acknowledges that they are cutting out a lot of the diversity and such, but I guess I just wonder what’s the point of doing it if you acknowledge that it’s an abstraction, and not a reality. I dunno what my point is.

This is closer to my issue: look at Appendix B, Survey Methodology. 3290 English and Spanish speaking teenagers by random-digit-dial. I don’t know how it is, but they say that this method “ensures equal representation of listed, unlisted, and not-yet-listed household telephone numbers.” Calling unlisted folks might help bring in some of the minority population, but I wonder how many minorities lack phones, and how many parents don’t speak English or Spanish. Probably not a huge number, but it would skew things from the start. I was wondering if Christians might be more willing to talk about their religious views than non-Christians, which could skew things, but it sounds like they pursued people who refused, and I think the monetary incentive would probably help, as well. I skimmed the chapter, and didn’t see any comments about how many non-English speakers were called, and thus couldn’t participate.

Having skimmed that appendix (writing that, “skimmed that appendix,” I imagine someone skipping rocks in a lake, but instead of a rock, it’s a human appendix [do I have ADD?]), I’m somewhat comforted by the exacting measures they took to do this survey. I still remain skeptical, though. I guess I am pushing for certainty of veracity, and that’s not something one can get in statistics or sociology. It’s intended to give a general portrait, and it does that rather well.

I’ll be very curious to see them substantiate their claims about how deeply religious children are happier and leave fulfilling lives. The thought that came to mind for me was, “Well, so what if they’re happy? Are they responsible world citizens? Are they going to be unethical when it comes to environment and such?” I'm such a grouchy old man.

I hope the kids had a fun time at the temple today. I wish I could’ve gone. I made a CD of different Indian music for the occasion. I look forward to hearing about how it went.

One of the things we talked about in Sociology of Religion the other day was how in Santería and Scientology, money is charged for advancement. People didn’t like that. I brought up how in some religions, frugality is valued and the ideal practitioner lives a life of poverty, fulfilled by spiritual needs. Christianity in most of its forms is like this. However, in Santería, poverty is seen as evidence of a spiritual weakness, and the book said that the poverty-stricken practitioners generally request health, love, and wealth from the orishas. So, of course, they would reciprocate their newfound wealth to the religious institution, particularly since they value sacrifice so deeply. Given the transmission of the tradition, which occurs on such a personal level, and not on an institutional one, of course they need to spend a lot of money to maintain their tradition.

In Protestant America, we like our churches bland, so we can focus on God. But some other traditions like to honor the divine by reserving their very best for it. I often thought of this as I visited Jain and Hindu temples in India. The people might have a terrible house themselves, but they express their communal gratitude by creating ostentatious displays for the divine. In an economy, money means power, ability, choice. To give your money to a certain institution is to place more importance on it. So why not display the great value of the religion by adornment?