An American Conscience: The Reinhold Niebuhr Story

by Jeremy L. Sabella

In his earlier writings Niebuhr discussed the “mythic” character of religious language: it uses symbols to help us make sense of our lived experience. Heschel, by contrast, “talks about God as a living God that he has an intuition of.”

“Niebuhr was, at the end of day, a really deeply committed pluralist. His curiosity about people different from himself made him an early proponent of this idea of America as a nation whose democracy was actually not just a Christian project purely, but a Judeo-Christian project, one that was expansive, that would include [not just Jews but] secularists, that would have elements coming from Catholics, that would include a lot of different people.” This pluralist streak marks a clear contrast between Niebuhr and the figure who is arguably the true “establishment theologian”: the world-renowned Christian evangelist Billy Graham.

he’s also trying to push Graham . . . to move out of what he calls ‘pietistic individualism,’ that is, speaking only directly to individuals. . . . Even though he’s ministering to thousands in stadiums, it’s all about those few folks who come up, who come forward at the end of a crusade to accept Jesus Christ.” Niebuhr felt that Graham’s relentless focus on individual Christianity resulted in squandered opportunities to address more broadly systemic injustices in American society: “Niebuhr increasingly gets frustrated with Graham for what he sees as a blindness to other social ills in the United States,” states Finstuen. Niebuhr thought that Christians needed to “look at both individuals and systems” in light of the doctrine of sin, whereas Graham “rarely looked at . . . systemic change.” For Finstuen, this marks the key difference between them.

The “Nixon-Graham doctrine,” as he called it, had two main defects. First, it “regards all religion as virtuous in guaranteeing public justice.” It therefore failed to distinguish between religion that pays lip service to power and religion that critiques power. Second, it “assumes that a religious change of heart, such as occurs in an individual conversion, would cure men of all sin.” It therefore overlooked the ways in which converted individuals continue to be part of sinful social structures.

Early in the interview Wallace turned to the unprecedented religiosity of the time: “With church attendance increasing, college students returning to religion, the apparent success of the evangelists . . . in large measure you have criticized this revival. Why?” Niebuhr responded, “I wouldn’t criticize the whole revival. I’ve criticized the revival wherever it gives petty and trivial answers to very great and ultimate questions about the meaning of our life.” In other words, Niebuhr felt that certain sectors of the revival made it seem as if accepting Jesus and going to church was the only thing in life that mattered. But religious conversion did not magically make us wiser in our political decision making. We still needed to think carefully about how to relate faith and politics.

The issue boils down to Niebuhr’s view of sin — and more specifically, his understanding of pride as the most basic way that sin manifests in human life. This view underlies Niebuhr’s contention that human beings are fundamentally egocentric, and that restraining the ego is essential to moral growth. It is also implied in the fact that he makes self-sacrificial love the ideal for which we must strive in our quest for justice.

As many feminist scholars point out, pride is more accessible for those who have power, and women have historically been excluded from formal structures of power.

In Niebuhr’s view, we all worship something. A simple way to figure out what we worship is to ask: Where do we find our sense of meaning? That which gives our lives deeper meaning is that which we worship. If we do not worship God — if we do not seek and find our purpose in relationship with our Creator — we seek meaning in an endless array of other things. Political causes, charismatic people, or even one’s own ego could become an object of worship.

“My personal attitude toward atheists is the same attitude that I have toward Christians, and would be governed by a very orthodox text: ‘By their fruits shall ye know them.’”

For Niebuhr, we are all caught up in the same drama of sin and redemption. And when the drama concludes we will be judged by our deeds, which will reveal what we worshiped.

For Niebuhr, the very attempt to apply the label of “Christian” to a political system misunderstood the political role of Christianity. As Robin Lovin notes, “One of the things that Niebuhr says is look; we need to understand that there is no Christian system of politics or economics. It’s not a matter of choosing one or the other and then deciding it’s the Christian system. The Christian attitude towards every system of politics and economics is to ask what kind of justice is it going to produce in this immediate situation and to be prepared to choose the solution that offers us the best approximation of justice.”

Niebuhr applied a similar litmus test to political and economic systems as he did to individuals: “by your fruits ye shall know them.” People of faith should always try to nudge the particular social order in which they find themselves toward greater justice.

Niebuhr is often criticized for not articulating an account of what makes Christian faith community distinct from other forms of community. If deeds are what ultimately matter, how do Christian practices such as prayer, confession, and communion help Christian communities become better advocates for justice?

Niebuhr compared it to Noah’s ark: “Despite the storm without and the smell within, [the church] points to a truth beyond its own stating of it.”19 For all their dysfunction (“the smell within”), churches are a spiritual refuge amid the tumult of a broken world. In this refuge, we learn to be receptive to the grace that both heals us and strengthens us; but once we’ve been strengthened, we must go back into the fray.