“Democrats don’t have that moral restraint of [being] God-fearing,” claimed American Evangelical activist David Barton, criticizing the Democratic Party after the contested 2020 Presidential Elections. According to Barton, Democrats lack Christian principles. “The Democrat Party is a very secular party… and the more secular you are, the less God-fearing you are, which means the less restraint you have on your behavior. So, if there is no God, then everything is right now, and the end does justify the means—the Machiavellian thing that the end justifies the means,” said Barton.
Barton is not alone in his critique. Prominent conservative Christian leaders from the late pastor Jerry Falwell to former Attorney General William Barr have voiced similar concerns. In a 2019 speech, Barr, a Catholic with evangelical leanings, denounced “militant secularists” and “progressives.” Barr warned that the diminishing role of religion in public life, driven by secular policies, has left a spiritual void that “no secular creed” can fill. His critique mirrors a broader fear within evangelical circles that the erosion of faith-based values is accelerating societal breakdown.
On the other hand, many progressives have criticized religion and Christianity in a general manner, contributing to the widespread characterization of progressive secularism. As a presidential-candidate, Barack Obama noted that many blue-collar workers in Pennsylvania and the Midwest expressed their frustrations through resentment toward immigrants, often turning “to guns or religion” for solace. Figures such as twentieth-century liberal activist Madalyn Murray O’Hair, who dismantled mandatory school prayer and forever altered the landscape of American education, and Christopher Hitchens, who dissected Christianity’s moral and historical contradictions in his provocative work God Is Not Great (2007), illuminated a critical tension in American society. These voices not only challenged the moral authority of Christianity but argued that its influence often contradicted the very values of compassion and justice it purported to uphold. Justly or not, these names have become emblematic of American liberal and progressive views and parties.
Beyond the sweeping generalizations that often characterize the discourse surrounding “godless Democrats” and “evangelical Republicans” lies a more nuanced story. Recent developments in American politics have brought forth figures like Texas State Representative and Preacher James Talarico, and Washington Congresswoman Marie Gluesenkamp Perez, both of whom are deeply religious, Bible-thumping, and progressive Democratic lawmakers. Their emergence has perplexed the media and the public, as they challenge entrenched perceptions of the political landscape, often viewed as anomalies in a sharply divided system. Yet, far from being isolated cases, they embody a larger historical narrative that reflects the complexities within American political identity.
One particularly rich example of religion informing and shaping progressive politics lies in the Minnesota Democratic Farmer-Labor Party (DFL). Rooted in a coalition that united progressive labor movements with religious communities, including evangelicals, the DFL defies these broad generalizations. The national influence of the DFL is not to be understated. Its leader, Governor and recent Vice Presidential Candidate Tim Walz, has brought a more progressive edge to the Democratic ticket.
The DFL’s Christian socialist roots challenge simplistic political binaries, demonstrating that evangelicalism not only coexisted with but also fueled progressive ideals. This history underscores the often-overlooked role of faith in progressive politics and counters the belief that religious conviction is strictly conservative. In the history of the DFL, diverse religious beliefs gave shape to a progressive political vision that enriched the fabric of American democracy [1].
The Pietist Roots of the DFL
The Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party (DFL) was formed in 1944 through the merger of the Minnesota Democratic Party, led by Hubert Humphrey, and the Minnesota Farmer-Labor Party (MFLP), led by Elmer Benson. This union has become one of the most successful state parties in the country and stands as a direct heir to the most impactful third-party movement in U.S. history—the Minnesota Farmer-Labor Party (MFLP).
The MFLP’s journey began in 1918 and unfolded in four distinct stages: its early years from 1917 to 1924, consolidation from 1924 to 1930, peak influence from 1930 to 1938, and finally, its transformation into the DFL between 1938 and 1944. These stages outline the evolution of a movement that redefined political identity in Minnesota and beyond, with Christian socialism significantly shaping the MFLP’s development throughout.
Today, many associate socialism with Cold War imagery—Marxism, the USSR, the Vietnam War, and their political legacies. However, when socialism first emerged in the late 1700s and early 1800s, it aimed to address the social question: tackling issues like poverty, low wages, dangerous working conditions, and rampant alcoholism that plagued working-class communities. It wasn’t until the 1850s and 1860s that socialism evolved into a political ideology associated with communism, Marxism, and later, Leninism and Stalinism.
Many viewed socialism as a branch of Christianity, first known colloquially as social Christianity or Christian Socialism. The American form of social Christianity, which laid the foundation for the MFLP, directly descended from European pietism, brought to the New World by immigrant streams from Protestant Europe in the 1800s.
Initially, Protestantism rose in opposition to the Catholic Church’s ties with political powers, eventually becoming the official religion of many kingdoms. By the 1600s, lay clergy and believers began rejecting the close alliance between Protestant churches and the state, criticizing these institutions for being too ritualistic and aligned with the ruling class instead of serving ordinary people. Many of these dissidents sought spiritual renewal through direct, personal relationships with God, favoring worship in nature, rejecting rigid hierarchies and rituals, and embracing lay ministers—anyone feeling called by God to preach, regardless of formal theological training. The farmers and laborers participating in this movement came to be known as pietists. For nearly two centuries, pietism flourished among common people, profoundly shaping their worldview and religious practices [2].
The Industrial Revolution in Western Europe brought rapid urbanization and harsh working conditions, sparking widespread social issues known as “the social question.” This unrest gave rise to early socialist movements like the Chartists in England, who advocated for better wages, labor rights, and improved living conditions during the 1830s and 1840s. Christian pietists, inspired by preachers such as Johann Friedrich Oberlin, also sought both material and spiritual reforms, championing improved working conditions, shorter hours, and agrarian reforms. For pietists, addressing social injustices was not only about improving earthly life but also about preparing for the Kingdom of God. Their efforts align with the doctrine of the two kingdoms, which teaches that God rules through two separate realms: the Kingdom of God, overseen by the church and focused on faith and salvation, and the Kingdom of Man, led by governments and other institutions to manage laws and order. Together, these realms guide both spiritual and everyday life, with pietists viewing social reform as a means to build a righteous earthly kingdom [3].
Pietists confronted social issues like alcoholism, class inequality, and urbanization as sins that required action. They believed stronger, Christian-based communities could alleviate poverty and suffering. From the 1830s to the 1870s, pietist pastors preached values of humility and brotherly love. They taught that every home could serve as a church grounded in communal principles. Unlike revolutionaries, pietists advocated for gradual reform rather than violent upheaval and promoted voluntary cooperatives and small-scale communal efforts.
By the late 1800s, Christian-rooted trade unions formed across Europe, aiming to resolve the social question through faith-driven efforts for both earthly justice and spiritual salvation. Originating in countries such as the Netherlands, Denmark, and Germany, these unions and guilds became key players in advocating for workers’ rights and labor reforms.
As European trade unions began forming the Social Democratic parties of Europe in the late 1800s, these movements gained such influence that even mainstream politicians and churches, once critical of socialism, started endorsing workers’ causes. For instance, Dutch political parties adopted Christian socialist rhetoric during the Christian Social Congress, and the Anglican Church issued a statement in 1898 supporting labor unions, acknowledging their Christian roots rather than dismissing them as Marxist.
Despite these movements, European farmers and laborers continued to face starvation, war, and displacement. Many, especially from Protestant northern and western Europe, sought new lives in the United States, with many settling in the Midwest, particularly Minnesota [4].
Immigration and Religion in the New World
In the nineteenth century, migration and religion transformed the Midwest into a vibrant center of social and political change. Immigrants brought with them traditions from the Old World to what they viewed as a New World frontier, breathing life into movements that would leave an enduring impact on the nation.
They arrived during the rise of the Second Great Awakening, a powerful evangelical wave spanning from the late 1700s to the mid-1800s. This revival movement, especially influential among non-mainline Protestant churches in the Midwest, championed principles of biblical devotion, communal brotherhood, emotional worship, and a personal connection with God. Drawing on European pietistic traditions, the movement redefined theological concepts such as the Doctrine of the Two Kingdoms. For many immigrant farmers and laborers, the Kingdom of Man became synonymous with the United States—a Promised Land where civic life and faith were inseparably intertwined [5].
As Europe struggled with political upheaval and premillennial pessimism from 1789 to 1840, the United States’s triumphs over foreign threats fostered a postmillennial optimism in the potential for societal improvement. Religious leaders depicted the United States as the ideal setting for building a better society. This inspired European immigrants to see their new lives as an opportunity for both earthly and spiritual enhancement. The optimism birthed a unique form of US American evangelicalism that merged individual salvation with a strong commitment to community, reinforcing the belief that unity was essential for creating a better “Kingdom of Man” on Earth. Immigrants saw this unity as a counter to unchecked individualism, which threatened traditional family-centered values.
The Second Great Awakening was particularly significant for immigrants because it provided them with a pathway to build institutions that educated workers and farmers. These efforts aimed at improving society, combating both personal and societal sins, and preparing for the Second Coming of Christ. The blending of immigration and religious revival also spurred the rise of new communitarian societies throughout the Midwest. Rooted in brotherly love and moral reform, these communities focused on collective spiritual and social uplift and sought to create a more righteous and unified society [6].
Progressive Evangelicalism and Labor in Minnesota
Upon arriving in Minnesota, immigrant groups—primarily Finnish, Danish, Norwegian, German, and Swedish—established tightly-knit ethno-religious enclaves with minimal interaction among themselves. Finns settled in the northern mining areas, making Duluth the largest Finnish city outside Finland. Norwegians concentrated in the northwest and southeast. Swedes formed farming communities in the south. Danes occupied the southeastern farmlands, and Germans settled in the west.
Within these groups, further divisions emerged based on regional origins. For instance, Norwegian Lutherans from Telemark, Stord, and Gausdal created distinct enclaves in the Crow River area in the 1860s. Telemark immigrants clustered in the northwest, Gausdal settlers in the west, and Stord groups in the center. Despite sharing faith and ethnicity, they rarely intermarried outside their kin or congregation, reinforcing communal bonds through shared land, labor, and family ties [7].
Despite their divides, these immigrants shared a common evangelical faith. They viewed poverty and social injustice through a religious lens. They believed in small-scale communitarianism, which they articulated as reforming the Kingdom of Man in pursuit of God’s Kingdom. Churches played a central role in their lives not just as spiritual centers but as hubs for education and economic cooperation. Immigrant ministers often led efforts to create cooperative enterprises (which would not go beyond the small ethnic group), believing that Christian brotherhood meant working side by side to combat societal ills like poverty and alcoholism. A notable example is the cooperative creameries established by Danish Baptist farmers in Clark’s Grove between the 1870s and 1890s. Similarly, German pietists in the Twin Cities formed cooperative barrel shops. These early efforts paved the way for larger enterprises like Land O’Lakes, which began as a cooperative and remains one of the largest dairy producers in the U.S. today.
The ethno-religious churches of the Midwest became the birthplace of the United States’s precursor to modern labor unions: temperance societies. While often portrayed as puritanical, middle-class efforts rooted in rural evangelical zeal, these movements were, in fact, a response to working-class exploitation. In Minnesota, as poor working and living conditions drove many men to alcoholism, it was often women—supported by local churches—who spearheaded the temperance campaigns. For them, the alcoholic worker was not just a sinner but a victim, exploited by companies, such as northern Minnesota’s mining firms or land speculators, which opened saloons to keep workers distracted from striking for better wages and conditions. Temperance advocates believed that only through communal support and God’s grace could these men break free from the sin of alcohol, rebuild their families, and strengthen their communities. Alcoholism became both a spiritual and social issue, symbolizing a loss of faith and a shift toward materialism. Soon after, Minnesota enacted “blue laws” restricting alcohol sales, or operating businesses, to promote religious observance and ensure a day of rest for the workers on Sundays. The legislation was primarily driven by farmers, workers, and political figures like Elmer Benson, a Farmer-Labor Party governor (1937 to 1939), as well as Susie Stageberg, known as the “mother” of the Minnesota Farmer-Labor Party (MFLP). Churches and seminaries, including Red Wing Seminary, supported temperance movements, helping to establish the Red Wing Women’s Christian Temperance Union, where Stageberg studied [8].
Two landmark laws that shaped early 20th-century America—the National Prohibition Act of 1920 and the Cooperative Marketing Associations Act of 1922—emerged from the efforts of Minnesotan Congressman Andrew Volstead. Born in 1860 to Norwegian immigrants in Minnesota, Volstead was raised in an evangelical community and educated at colleges rooted in the Second Great Awakening: St. Olaf and Luther colleges. Volstead’s convictions drove him to enact the 1920 Volstead Act, which enforced national prohibition. Two years later, he co-sponsored the Capper–Volstead Act, which drew from Minnesota’s tradition of cooperative creameries and farm associations. This law empowered small farmers to compete with larger businesses by protecting their cooperatives from antitrust laws.
These movements remained fragmented despite some successes. The division of groups along ethnic and religious lines led to little cooperation. For example, by the 1880s, Duluth’s Finnish community had at least 50 temperance societies deeply divided among ethno-religious niches. Lack of cooperation made these groups short-lived.
Nonetheless, these efforts laid the groundwork for organized labor in Minnesota. Churches became hubs for social change by promoting hard work, fighting alcoholism, and fostering communitarian values over individualism. They hosted early gatherings of trade groups – including cigar makers, stonecutters, carpenters, and coopers – that later evolved into unions. These evangelicals blended spiritual regeneration with labor activism, holding meetings both in churches and outdoors to strengthen their connection to God and each other.
Much like their communities, Minnesota’s immigrant congregations were often sidelined by ethnic divisions, which limited their influence on social and religious reforms. The 1890 census recorded 143 religious congregations in the state but failed to capture the deeper ethnic fractures within these groups. This fragmented landscape hampered efforts to unite labor and temperance movements, despite the initiatives of organizations like the Knights of Labor.
The economic downturns and major strikes of the 1890s, including the 1894 Pullman Strike, underscored these divisions. In Minnesota, clashes between workers and railroad companies culminated in the death of Charles Luth, a young Lutheran evangelical worker. His funeral, conducted by German pastor Rev. Herman Fleer, became a pivotal moment as Fleer condemned the “evildoers”—the railroad companies—for oppressing workers. In his eulogy, he criticized the workers for their lack of unity, declaring that a “divided house of Israel” could not succeed. Fleer’s call for solidarity reminded workers that overcoming their ethnic and religious differences was essential for achieving their shared goals, likening their plight to that of the biblical Israelites.
Despite the intensity of the strike, it ultimately failed, primarily due to these ethnic divisions. Luth had protested with a German union that refused to collaborate with Eugene Debs’ American Railway Union. Additionally, religious tensions played a significant role, as Irish Catholic workers in St. Paul supported the cause but distanced themselves from a strike predominantly led by Protestant workers from the western Twin Cities [9].
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, a new generation of Minnesotans—many born in the U.S.—emerged as labor organizers, journalists, and preachers committed to transcending ethnic divisions in pursuit of workers’ rights. This movement marked the birth of a new identity: white Protestant American workers.
The transformation of ethnic groups into the broader category of the white race was intricately linked to Americanization and unionism, particularly in response to growing racism and xenophobia against Eastern European immigrants, including Catholic Poles, Orthodox Slavs, Jewish migrants, and Muslim Albanians. Protestant first-generation Americans began to see themselves not merely as ethnic Germans or Scandinavians but as distinct white Protestant Americans. This shift stemmed from economic and religious anxieties, as Protestant workers perceived non-Protestant immigrants not only as racial and religious outsiders but also as tools for wealthy factory owners—often serving as strikebreakers who undermined labor struggles. In this context, Protestant workers cast themselves as defenders of a righteous cause, while immigrant workers symbolized economic and moral threats [10].
As unionism evolved, it was deeply influenced by evangelicalism and Americanization. Figures like preacher and labor organizer George Herron championed workers’ rights, portraying workers as a “Chosen People” with a divine mission to reform society. In Minnesota, social activists like Ignatius Donnelly emphasized the importance of uniting workers across ethnic lines to confront injustices in industrial capitalism. Protestant churches and unions increasingly adopted English, fostering a collective identity among diverse immigrant groups. This shared Protestant-American identity helped solidify the labor movement, enabling workers to transcend ethnic divisions in pursuit of common goals.
The arrival of Catholic immigrants further heightened tensions, as Protestant workers viewed them as threats to their religious and cultural values. Evangelical leaders promoted Americanization as a means of social cohesion and a bulwark against the deep-rooted fear and xenophobia toward Catholicism. Increased intermarriage rates and the formation of multi-ethnic congregations among Protestants reinforced these bonds, solidifying a white Protestant identity central to the labor movement and the broader social order.
This emerging identity transformed the labor landscape in early 20th-century Minnesota, laying the foundation for unified labor unions no longer fragmented by ethnicity. Unlike the ethnically divided strikes of the 1890s, the early 1900s saw solidarity among Northern Minnesota miners from diverse backgrounds. United by their American identity, they waved the American flag on picket lines, symbolizing a fusion of patriotism and labor activism. Clergy, such as Reverend Nikander, played a pivotal role in encouraging Finnish Americans to unite despite doctrinal differences, fostering solidarity through institutions like the Suomi Synod and the Finnish Evangelical Lutheran Church’s Workers’ Institute. These religious bodies provided both spiritual guidance and practical support for workers facing harsh conditions. This blending of evangelical Protestantism with labor activism was instrumental in solidifying interethnic unity among Minnesota’s working class and illustrates how interconnected race, class, and faith shaped modern American identity [11].
The strength of the labor movement in Minnesota did not arise from Marxist revolution but from a distinctly Christian Social Democratic ideology. Leaders like George Herron and other evangelical figures advocated for cooperation between workers and capitalists, envisioning a capitalist system tempered by Christian ethics rather than class warfare. They saw the Bible as the workers’ true charter, providing a moral and spiritual framework that could elevate the labor struggle beyond material concerns. By promoting brotherly love and communal effort, these leaders aimed to foster a society rooted in Christian principles, where economic justice was intertwined with spiritual righteousness [12].
This Christian-driven labor ethos became a critical force in the pivotal strikes of the early 1900s, including the massive 1907 Mesabi Iron Range strike. Sixteen thousand workers, carrying American flags, joined together in solidarity against the mining companies, who retaliated by firing union members. The Western Federation of Miners (WFM), led by radical socialists with anti-religious leanings, alienated many Protestant workers. This clash between the WFM’s secular, class-based ideology and the faith-rooted communities of Minnesota laborers weakened the strike. Evangelical clergy viewed the social ills of industrialization as moral failings and saw labor reform as a means of spiritual renewal. They preached that workers’ suffering reflected divine disapproval of societal greed and exploitation, calling for a return to Christian values to rectify these injustices.
Rather than embracing Marxism, Minnesota’s labor movement favored a Christian Social Democratic approach, seeking cooperation with capitalists to create a fairer economic system. This ideological fusion of Christianity and laborism catalyzed the Labor Forward Movement (LFM), an evangelical labor initiative born in Minnesota. The LFM championed social transformation through labor reform, guided by the belief that workers could achieve justice by maintaining a direct relationship with God and adhering to Christian ethics.
In 1911, the LFM brought together labor leaders and Christian ministers across 30 denominations to promote union cooperation. This campaign, although brief, significantly bolstered union membership and fostered inter-class solidarity. Key national labor figures like Samuel Gompers recognized the potential of religiously motivated labor activism to expand unionism and build broader coalitions. The LFM’s missionary zeal inspired workers to return to their communities, spreading the gospel of labor revivalism and calling for consumer support of union-made products as a Christian duty.
This convergence of faith and labor not only strengthened the labor movement but also laid the groundwork for political transformation. By 1916, the Duluth Federation of Labor’s revival of the LFM attracted thousands of new union members, leading to collaborations with North Dakota’s Farmers’ Non-Partisan League and the eventual formation of the Minnesota Farmers-Labor Party. This fusion of faith, labor, and politics shaped the foundation of the Minnesota Democratic-Farmer-Labor (DFL) Party, uniting diverse working-class communities under a shared vision of economic and social justice grounded in Christian ethics. Through these efforts, the DFL emerged as a powerful force for workers’ rights, catalyzed by the evangelical labor movement’s emphasis on moral and economic cooperation.
The history of the DFL isn’t just a footnote in American political history. It’s a powerful reminder that faith and progressivism are not mutually exclusive. In fact, the DFL’s roots in Christian socialism challenge the conventional political playbook and prove that religious conviction can fuel a vision for justice as much as any secular ideology. Its legacy reverberates through centuries, reshaping our understanding of how politics, labor, and faith have coalesced to drive transformative social change.
In today’s political climate, where religion is often weaponized to divide rather than unite, the DFL’s story feels radical. As the most recent presidential elections highlighted, the same tensions that existed generations ago—between morality, labor rights, and identity—played out on the national stage. Figures like Minnesota Governor Tim Walz, bring this complex legacy to the forefront, serving as a testament to the enduring power of diverse coalitions.
The DFL’s unique history of merging evangelical fervor with progressive politics defies the simplistic narrative of “godless Democrats” versus “evangelical Republicans.” Its history shows that collaboration between faith-driven ethics and progressive ideals is not only possible, but can be a force for profound change.
Of course, while the DFL and its predecessors—the MFLP, unions, pietism, evangelicalism, and Christian socialism—were pioneers of progressivism, they were far from flawless moral exemplars. An ambiguous legacy runs through their history. For one, pietism bore ideological links to fascism. In the U.S., the immigrants who carried these religious movements did not settle on vacant land; they displaced and killed Native Americans, justifying their actions with racist notions of “civilizing” Indigenous peoples. Minnesota’s racial history is equally troubling. Despite African Americans making up only 0.2% to 0.4% of the population between the 1870s and early 1900s, many white Protestants still perceived them as a threat. This racial tension culminated in the horrific 1920 lynching of three Black men by a white Protestant mob in Duluth, exposing the deep-seated racism in the state. For much of its history, Minneapolis was also considered the anti-Semitic capital of the U.S., a reputation that persisted until Hubert Humphrey’s tenure as mayor began to reverse this in the 1930s.
As labor rights, immigration, and the role of faith in public life continue to dominate today’s headlines, the lessons from the DFL’s Christian socialist beginnings couldn’t be more relevant. The party’s history is a clarion call to move beyond simplistic binaries, encouraging deeper dialogue on the complex interplay of faith, labor, and justice. And while history never repeats itself exactly, it certainly informs how we navigate the challenges of today, offering hope that a better, more equitable future can still be built on the foundations laid by those who came before us.
Rudi Mucaj, an Albanian transplant to the U.S., holds a BA in History from Goshen College and an MA in History from Kent State University; he works in the U.S. nonprofit sector, specializing in policy advocacy and educational initiatives for immigrant and refugee youth, and can be reached at rudimucaj@gmail.com.
Image Credit: M. Dubourg, “Camp Meeting of the Methodists in N. America / J. Milbert del.” 1 Print: Aquatint, hand-colored. c1819. From Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Online Catalog. https://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/98508274/ (accessed November 25, 2024).
[1] This article is based on my MA thesis, Pietism, Immigration, and Labor: The Religious Roots of Progressive Movements in the United States, which relied primarily on extensive primary sources, making it difficult to hyperlink most references. However, I have included links to relevant secondary sources where applicable to provide additional context. The thesis investigates the intricate connections between religious movements, labor activism, and immigration in early 20th-century America. You can access the full thesis here.
[2] John Wesley, The Works of the Reverend John Wesley, A.M., (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1839), 23, 38, 66. L. L. Laestadius, The Voice of One Crying in the Wilderness: A Periodical Published in the Years 1852-1854 (Farmington Hills, MI: The Old Apostolic Lutheran Church of America, 1988), 20-35.
[3] For a thorough analysis on the socio-political and economic developments in Europe see, Eric Hobsbawm, The Age of Revolution: Europe 1789–1848 (London, UK: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1962); Eric Hobsbawm, The Age of Capital: 1848–1875 (London, UK: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1975); E.P. Thompson, The Making of the English Working; Richard J. Evans, The Pursuit of Power: Europe 1815-1914 (New York City, NY: Penguin Publishing Group, 2016). On pietism see, Fritz Eberhard, “Johann Friedrich Oberlin und die pietistische Bewegung in Straßburg: zum Einfluss des radikalen Pietismus auf den elsässischen Pfarrer und Sozialreformer,” Pietismus und Neuzeit, 34 (2008), 167-188.
[4] Anton Jansson, “‘The Pure Teachings of Jesus’: On the Christian Language of Wilhelm Weitling’s Communism,” Praktyka Teoretyczna, accessed April 15, 2022 doi: https://core.ac.uk/download/pdf/185639687.pdf. Tommy Fallot, Protestantisme et socialisme: lettres et articles (France: Ampelos, 2011). Tommy Fallot, Christianisme social, études et fragments (Paris, FR: Hachette Livre BNF, 2018). Jakob Evertsson, “Anticlericalism and Early Social Democracy in Sweden in the 1880s,” Church History and Religious Culture 97, no.2 (2017), 248–266. Richard F. Tomasson, “The Extraordinary Success of the Swedish Social Democrats,” The Journal of Politics 31, no. 3 (1969), 24.
[5] Martin Luther, “Temporal Authority: To What Extent It Should Be Obeyed,” International Relations and Security Network, accessed January 24, 2022 https://www.socalsynod.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/606.pdf. Also see, David VanDrunen, Natural Law and the Two Kingdoms: A study in the Development of Reformed Social Thought (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2010), 55-66. For a thorough examination of the Two Kingdoms theological trajectory from Augustine to Luther see VanDrunen, Natural Law and the Two Kingdoms, 1-55.
[6] Matthew Bowman, “Sin, Spirituality, and Primitivism: The Theologies of the American Social Gospel, 1885–1917,” Religion and American Culture: A Journal of Interpretation 17 no. 1 (Winter 2007), 97-126.
[7] For a thorough and superb analysis of ethnic dynamics in Minnesota see: Jon Gjerde, The Minds of the West: Ethnocultural Evolution in the Rural Middle West, 1830-1917 (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1997).
[8] For a thorough examination of the temperance societies and movements in the US and world wide see, Mark Lawrence Schrad, Smashing the Liquor Machine: A Global History of Prohibitionism (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2021).
[9] For a detailed analysis of the Pullman Strike see, Richard White, Railroaded: The Transcontinentals and the Making of Modern America (New York City, NY: W.W. Norton, 2012), 472, 487-507. The Broad Axe, July 12, 1894, 2-4. St. Paul Pioneer Press, July 15-18, 1894. Rev. Fleer also supported temperance movements and urged workers to abstain from alcohol and not attend saloons since it held them from coming together.
[10] Historian Matthew Frye Jacobson has a magisterial work on this topic, and the becoming of modern whiteness in the US, see Matthew Frye Jacobson, Whiteness of a Different Color: European Immigrants and the Alchemy of Race (Harvard University Press, 1998).
[11] Douglas Ollila., The Formative Period of the Finnish Evangelical Lutheran Church in America or Suomi Synod (Boston MA: Boston University School of Theology, 1963). Vernon Rautanen, Amerikan Suomalainen Kirkko [The Finnish Church of America] (Hancock, MI: Suomalais-Luterilainen Kustannusliike, 1911), 242. Labor Review, July 4, 1907, 4-5; July 11, 1907, 12-13; July 18, 1907, 12-13.
[12] George Herron, Social Meanings of Religious Questions (New York City, NY: Crowell, 1896); George D. Herron, The Message of Jesus to Men of Wealth (Chicago, IL: Revell Company, Publishers of Evangelical Literature, 1891).
