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A review by brice_mo
Ownership: The Evangelical Legacy of Slavery in Edwards, Wesley, and Whitefield by Sean McGever
3.5
Thanks to NetGalley and IVP for the ARC!
Sean McGever’s Ownership is an effective exploration of Christianity’s complicated history with slavery, appropriately more concerned with a reckoning than a reconciliation.
The author provides detailed portraits of John Wesley, John Edwards, and George Whitefield, examining how their lives were largely marked by ambivalent or worse—actively pro-slavery—stances. The result is a book that feels like a necessary contrast to the endless, “Yes, but think of all the good they did” takes that populate evangelical thought. I found the section on Edwards particularly interesting, as he argued for a kind of class-based hierarchy even in heaven.
There are no tired justifications here. McGever refuses to play into the many simplifications people fall back on, such as the argument that “Biblical slavery was different," or that “the Bible condemns slavery.” Instead, his research leads him deeper into the issue, noting that the Bible was an active point of contention for abolitionists, and even early Christians—like Augustine—who thought slaves were mistreated still thought liberation was wrong. The issue, McGever argues, was rarely ignorance—it was willful oversight. Wisely, the author is also quick to point out that early abolitionist movements by Quakers were initiated by enslaved people themselves.
I admire McGever’s take here, which invites readers to reflect on their own complicity. If historical figures were willing to ignore such glaringly problematic beliefs, what are comparable modern issues that people will be ashamed of in the future? How can people proactively take accountability for the present before it becomes the past? This is where the legacy of John Wesley becomes instructive. For the majority of his life, he was passive about slavery before eventually speaking out against it. It was, of course, much later than it should have been, but it was still a conscious pivot from how he had lived his life.
The end of the book is perhaps a bit too tidy, but maybe it needs to be for people to take action. Ultimately, Ownership is a call for readers to view legacy—even ugly legacy—as starting point for action, taking and ascribing accountability as necessary.
Sean McGever’s Ownership is an effective exploration of Christianity’s complicated history with slavery, appropriately more concerned with a reckoning than a reconciliation.
The author provides detailed portraits of John Wesley, John Edwards, and George Whitefield, examining how their lives were largely marked by ambivalent or worse—actively pro-slavery—stances. The result is a book that feels like a necessary contrast to the endless, “Yes, but think of all the good they did” takes that populate evangelical thought. I found the section on Edwards particularly interesting, as he argued for a kind of class-based hierarchy even in heaven.
There are no tired justifications here. McGever refuses to play into the many simplifications people fall back on, such as the argument that “Biblical slavery was different," or that “the Bible condemns slavery.” Instead, his research leads him deeper into the issue, noting that the Bible was an active point of contention for abolitionists, and even early Christians—like Augustine—who thought slaves were mistreated still thought liberation was wrong. The issue, McGever argues, was rarely ignorance—it was willful oversight. Wisely, the author is also quick to point out that early abolitionist movements by Quakers were initiated by enslaved people themselves.
I admire McGever’s take here, which invites readers to reflect on their own complicity. If historical figures were willing to ignore such glaringly problematic beliefs, what are comparable modern issues that people will be ashamed of in the future? How can people proactively take accountability for the present before it becomes the past? This is where the legacy of John Wesley becomes instructive. For the majority of his life, he was passive about slavery before eventually speaking out against it. It was, of course, much later than it should have been, but it was still a conscious pivot from how he had lived his life.
The end of the book is perhaps a bit too tidy, but maybe it needs to be for people to take action. Ultimately, Ownership is a call for readers to view legacy—even ugly legacy—as starting point for action, taking and ascribing accountability as necessary.