Anthony — this was outstanding. You offered exactly what’s so often missing in historical criticism: an unflinching eye for tone. I appreciate how you parsed not just the facts but the framing, which shapes interpretation as much as any citation.
Your observation that MacCulloch subtly anthropomorphizes manuscripts (“conspire,” “hide”) to imply a hidden agenda—without making an actual argument—is a masterclass in rhetorical analysis. It’s academic sleight-of-hand, and you caught it.
Also loved this line:
“Reading MacCulloch’s Christianity, it is hard not to sense the mind of a man who resents his upbringing in the Christian faith, in spite of his testimony to the contrary.”
That’s it. There’s an uncanny coldness to his lens—like he’s documenting a species he once belonged to, but now studies from behind glass.
Would love to see you eventually write a “Companion to MacCulloch” — not to refute, but to reframe. His reach is broad; the counterbalance should be, too.
Thanks for reading, and for the very encouraging comment. It's much appreciated. One doesn't always get substantive feedback like this.
I still think the book is to be recommended, so long as the reader goes in with a fair, but critical, eye you can spit out the rhetorical bones and keep the meat.
MacCulloch's approach reminds me of lapsed Catholics who say "I grew up Catholic, so I know what the Catholic church teaches" and then launch into a farrago of things they misremember from went they were twelve.
It is an attempt to curry favor, but as you point out, it lacks empathy and has a "Gorillas in the Mist" feel.
Yes, it definitely has that feel. MacCulloch's bias is not that hard to discern. And while I don't want to diminish the seriousness of the book, or his grasp of the data, nevertheless, that his attitude distorts the data, at least at points, is rather obvious.
Anthony — this was outstanding. You offered exactly what’s so often missing in historical criticism: an unflinching eye for tone. I appreciate how you parsed not just the facts but the framing, which shapes interpretation as much as any citation.
Your observation that MacCulloch subtly anthropomorphizes manuscripts (“conspire,” “hide”) to imply a hidden agenda—without making an actual argument—is a masterclass in rhetorical analysis. It’s academic sleight-of-hand, and you caught it.
Also loved this line:
“Reading MacCulloch’s Christianity, it is hard not to sense the mind of a man who resents his upbringing in the Christian faith, in spite of his testimony to the contrary.”
That’s it. There’s an uncanny coldness to his lens—like he’s documenting a species he once belonged to, but now studies from behind glass.
Would love to see you eventually write a “Companion to MacCulloch” — not to refute, but to reframe. His reach is broad; the counterbalance should be, too.
Following with interest,
—Anton
Permission to Be Powerful
Anton,
Thanks for reading, and for the very encouraging comment. It's much appreciated. One doesn't always get substantive feedback like this.
I still think the book is to be recommended, so long as the reader goes in with a fair, but critical, eye you can spit out the rhetorical bones and keep the meat.
Peace,
Anthony
MacCulloch's approach reminds me of lapsed Catholics who say "I grew up Catholic, so I know what the Catholic church teaches" and then launch into a farrago of things they misremember from went they were twelve.
It is an attempt to curry favor, but as you point out, it lacks empathy and has a "Gorillas in the Mist" feel.
Peter,
Yes, it definitely has that feel. MacCulloch's bias is not that hard to discern. And while I don't want to diminish the seriousness of the book, or his grasp of the data, nevertheless, that his attitude distorts the data, at least at points, is rather obvious.
Thanks for reading and subscribing.
Anthony