The Americanization of Christian Worship

January 16, 2018

Much of my working time is focused on two book  length manuscripts, both of which are related to my part of the church family, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ.) In his 1989 book, Protestant Worship: Traditions in Transition, United Methodist church historian James F. White places my church in a chapter that he entitles “Frontier Worship.”

He devotes eight chapters to patterns based on earlier traditions, including Roman Catholic, major protestant, separatist and Puritan, Quaker, and Methodist. He then turns to what he terms the “most prevalent worship tradition in American Protestantism (and maybe American Christianity),” noting that it “lacks any recognized name.”

While “Frontier-revival tradition” would be more complete, he decides that this term is too cumbersome and abridges it to “Frontier religion.” As the prominent representatives of this tradition, he names Southern Baptist, Disciples of Christ, and Churches of Christ.”

The “essential discovery” of these churches, he writes, was “a form of worship for the unchurched. . .Although several traditions practiced evangelistic preaching outside the church, none of them developed a whole system of worship that led to baptism rather than leading from it.“ While worship in the other churches was “still operating within a world of Christendom when it reached the American frontier,” churches of this new tradition “acquired their distinctive characteristics on the American frontier” (171).

The practical problem was ministering to the scattered population in the newly occupied middle-western territories.  Church leaders found that evangelizing the unchurched was better served by sacramental worship, based on the sacramental seasons within the Presbyterian traditions, than by preaching services. These multi-day, ecumenical events began with preaching and spiritual awakening and led to baptism and the eucharist. The music that developed was easy to sing. “Even obdurate and unrepentant sinners might be worn down by four days of incessant singing, praying, and preaching.” Baptism would be administered and the converts welcomed to the eucharistic table. When they returned to their home communities, they would be received into membership in a congregation there.

Another characteristic of the Frontier tradition was the use of the Bible as the source of teachings about the shape  of church organization and practices of worship. New Testament worship was most clearly seen in the Disciples of Christ movement where conducting the communion service every Sunday became standard practice. Because of the influence of Sidney Rigdon, an early Disciples leader who later became a Mormon, that new church also adopted a variant of the Lord’s Supper as part of its regular weekly meetings. The frontier churches also established the practice of adult conversion and baptism by immersion.

“Sacramental piety,” White continues, “was largely shaped by the rationalism of the Enlightenment [which was] the only available option. They did not go out of their way to refute the traditional approach found in Calvin or Wesley; they simply no longer lived in a sacral universe” (181). The pastoral prayer as a regular part of the Sunday service and the use of evangelistic music also emerged in the Frontier tradition churches. The traditional Christian year was given little attention and instead a pragmatic year with new events such as Mother’s Day, Rally Day, and Homecoming became normal practice. White also notes that these churches have largely resisted post-Vatican II reforms in worship.

White describes the later manifestations of worship designed for the unchurched in revivalism and the development of variant groups such as Mormons and Seventh Day Adventists. Radio and television preachers and their churches represent this continuing strain. White does not, however, note that the Disciples of Christ has in later years identified more fully with other ecumenical protestant churches, such as Presbyterian and United Church of Christ, rather than continuing forward with variants that embrace conservative theology and other characteristics of the twentieth-century evangelical movement. Disciples combine distinctive Frontier features, such as the weekly celebration of the Lord’s Supper and prominent lay leadership. I think of Disciples as being “low-church Episcopalians” rather than “high-church Baptists.”

We live in a time when a new cultural frontier is opening upon us. The Christendom that was still dominant in the early 1800s has essentially disappeared in American life. Instead, we inhabit a post-Christian frontier, in which former mores and prejudices are disappearing. New generations of unchurched, individualized, unconventionally defined ways of life are coming into being. If there is a religious modality common among younger generations, it could be described, Kenneth L. Woodward writes in Getting Religion, as “moralistic, therapeutic deism” or “religion with a shrug.” It’s time for churches, like my own, that emerged to serve the frontier 200 years ago, to remake themselves to serve the new frontier in which we now live.

Protestant Worship was published in 1989 by Westminster/John Knox Press; Getting Religion was published in 2016 by Convergent.

 

 


The American Church That Might Have Been

January 2, 2018

The American Church That Might Have Been: A History of the Consultation on Church Union. By Keith Watkins with Foreword by Michael Kinnamon (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, 2014). I am grateful to the editors of the newsletter published by the Association of Reformed & Liturgical Worship for publishing a new review of my book recounting the forty-year history of a serious attempt to reunite Protestant churches in the United States. This review appeared in the AR&LW Newsletter, Fall 2017 and is reprinted with permission.

In December 1960, shortly after John F. Kennedy was elected as the first Roman Catholic President of the United States, an event that brought to an end the Protestant political hegemony (at least at the Presidential level), Mainline Protestantism remained a powerful force in American life. In an age when Mainline Protestantism and the ecumenical movement has moved into the shadows of our culture, it might be difficult to imagine the power and prestige of that these denominations had in their grasp as a new decade began, but such was the case when the leader of the United Presbyterian Church and an Episcopal bishop announced their dream of a truly united church. The dream was for Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Methodists, and the United Church of Christ to unite as one church. For a moment in time, it seemed as if such a united church could emerge here in the United States.

This ecumenical moment took place on December 4, 1960, when the Stated Clerk of the United Presbyterian Church, Eugene Carson Blake, at the invitation of Episcopal Bishop James Pike, preached a sermon at San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral. In this sermon Blake laid out a vision of Christian unity that caught the imagination of the nation. Blake and Pike believed that the time was ripe for birthing a Protestant church that could stand tall and influence the nation and the world. There were, after all, models like the Church of South India, already in existence. In the minds of these founding figures, this new church would be catholic, reformed, and evangelical. Eventually nine denominations would join in this venture, and among them would be three African American Methodist denominations.

The story of the Consultation on Church Union (COCU) is an important one, but it is in danger of being forgotten. I occasionally hear younger clergy call for the unification of Mainline Protestantism, along much the same lines as COCU, yet they show little knowledge of this movement for unity. As time passes and the memory of this effort fades, the story needs to be told. Keith Watkins, Professor Emeritus of Worship at Christian Theological Seminary, has taken on that mission, producing an in-depth history of the COCU.

This book should be of special interest to members and friends of AR&LW, for while COCU failed to create the church envisioned by Blake and Pike, the work done by the consultation had significant impact on the worship and liturgy of these churches. These included the Revised Common Lectionary and agreements on baptism and church membership.

As for COCU, while the vision was articulated in 1960, it was not until 1962 that the consultation finally got underway. It would continue in existence until 2002, when COCU evolved into Churches Uniting in Christ (CUIC). During the forty years of COCU, representatives of participating churches gathered on a regular basis, including nearly annual plenary sessions. Those involved in this work explored points of agreement and disagreement on matters theological, liturgical, and structural.

Interestingly, the consultation came to agreement on a basic theological foundation early on, agreeing to ground their work in Scripture and the witness of the creeds. They found agreement on baptism, allowing for both infant and believer’s baptism. There would be freedom in terms of form and understanding of baptism, though the participating denominations were to refrain from requiring rebaptism for those moving from one denomination to another. It took much longer to come to agreements on the Eucharist. Significantly, the participating churches could never agree on what constituted the ministry of the church. Episcopalians held tightly to the belief that the Episcopacy was not simply an administrative entity, but a sacred entity. At the other end, non-episcopal churches were not willing to accede to the requirement of being reordained by bishops in apostolic succession.

While early on it appeared that the merging of the churches would be accomplished by the end of the 1960s, by the end of the decade interest in actual union began to wane. Churches found themselves giving their attention to issues other than the ones that were the focus of the consultation, including the early signs of decline in membership and attendance. Despite the many distractions, the participating churches continued to forge ahead, hoping that the Plan of Union that was agreed upon in 1970 would receive support from the churches. That support, however, would never be forthcoming. With waning support for union, the churches began to look for ways to come together without moving toward full merger. By the 1980s the churches began speaking in terms of covenanting to live as one church, while keeping their separate identities intact. The hope was that memberships and ministries could be reconciled, even if churches continued to worship separately.

One of the most significant components of this work, which Watkins highlights, is the contribution made by the three historically black churches that were involved in the consultation. They brought in a dimension to the conversation that had rarely been considered in ecumenical conversations—and that was the issue of race in America’s churches. It needs to be remembered that the original four original denominations, while differing in their polity and at points in their theology, were rather culturally homogeneous. The addition of the Disciples and United Evangelical Brethren didn’t change that very much. The injection of race into the conversation also made the work of the Consultation more complex. The churches involved in the conversation were required to deal with the reality of racial injustice embedded in church structures. It also had to make sure that “the new church order its life so that people of color would be able to maintain the dignity and freedom of action that they had enjoyed in their separated churches” (p. 188). In other words, the price of union for churches of color could not be willingness to be assimilated into a church defined by white values and experiences.

Despite the failure to fulfill the original vision, the COCU served to push Protestant denominations to consider ways to express Christian unity visibly and recognize each other’s ministries and sacraments as valid. It also lifted up the issue of race and the possibility of moving toward reconciliation. We may have a long way to go on all these issues, but we benefit today from these efforts, especially the contributions made to conversations about liturgy, preaching, and the sacraments.

This is an important book written with great care and passion by one who not only studied the movement, but participated in it. Watkins served on the Commission on Liturgy for many years, and brings that experience into the conversation. Therefore, this is both history and memoir, even if the more personal aspects are sublimated into the broader story. It is scholarly, but very accessible for readers willing to engage in the conversation. While AR&LW might be Reformed in its orientation, there is considerable overlap between it and the vision espoused by COCU. It might be the story of an American church that might have been, there is much to learn from the efforts undertaken by COCU that can inform our current conversations as we forge ahead in an increasingly complex and diverse nation, one that looks very different from the one that existed in 1960, when Blake and Pike shared their vision. Having a thoughtful guide is mandatory, and Watkins is just that needed guide.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Holding Winter in a Bicyclist’s Embrace

December 28, 2017

The bike riders are out today, even some on rental bikes from the stanchions across the street. And why shouldn’t they be! Bright sun, dry streets, quiet traffic. A nice day, except for the temperature, 17 degrees.

When I lived in Indianapolis during my working years, I commuted three miles to the campus where I taught regardless of temperature, even on sub-zero days, except when the roads were slick. I would do 20-mile recreational rides on sunny days when the temperature was 25 or higher.

But so far today, during the first seriously cold winter weather since my return to Indianapolis, I’ve been sitting in my sun-filled bachelor pad trying to talk myself into going out for a trial cold weather ride. During the next six or eight weeks, there are places I will have to go, including a doctor’s office next week. Some will be too far to walk, and bus connections are awkward. That leaves my bike as the preferred option, unless snow is falling and the roads are slick.

“Go for it!” the gals in the apartment rental office told me. “You won’t get as cold on your bike as you would waiting for the bus both ways.” Biking to my appointment next week will take fifteen minutes each way rather than an hour on the bus (including walking, waiting, and transfers). I still have the heavy winter gloves from former years and know how to protect my ears. By layering my civilian clothes, I can be reasonably warm while maintaining suitable appearance for activities at the destination points.

It’s not a choice between prudence or cowardice as it was a couple of weeks ago on a morning when there was a glaze of ice on the streets. Today, it’s a question of character. Am I going to live up to my regula, to borrow a word that Laura Everett uses in her book Holy Spokes: The Search for Urban Spirituality on Two Wheels?

If using buses and bikes instead of an automobile is to be a guideline for the next period of my life, then there’s no choice but to take a break-the-ice bike ride on a winter’s day as nice as this. If I lived in Erie, Pennsylvania, with five feet of snow on the ground, then bus or snow shoes would be the only options, but here there is practically no white stuff even on grass in shaded places.

So bicycle it has to be, and today is the day for moving into the out of doors that now is my world.

Even when the temperature is as warm as 17 degrees, I found out on today’s five-mile ride, my winter cycling attire needs to be improved: something to cover my face, better ear coverings, warmer gloves or mittens, and long underwear or heavier civilian pants. A trip to REI or Patagonia is in the offing.

At 3:15, the sun is obscured by an apartment tower across the street, but today’s ride, even though it was only five miles and ten or twelve minutes long, is casting its own brightness for the rest of the day.


Indiana’s White River System: A Bicyclist’s Observations

December 18, 2017

Responding to Indiana White River Guide Book: East Fork and West Fork, by Jerry M. Hay (Terre Haute: Indiana Waterways, 2002).

white-river-guideAlthough I am a bicyclist rather than a boater, traveling on roads rather than rivers, I have long been interested in the waterways that shape the land and human cultures that develop along their banks. This interest influences the books I read, such as Blaine Harden’s A River Lost: The Life and Death of the Columbia and Always a River: The Ohio River and the American Experience, edited by Robert L. Reid.

Now that I am living once again close to Indiana’s White River (West Fork), I am focusing attention on this ribbon of water that twists in an almost tortured way from its starting point near Muncie, Indiana (home of Ball State University), to its confluence with the Wabash River at Mt. Carmel, Illinois.

The first book on this river that I have been able to find, and this is in the reserved section of the Indianapolis Public Library, is a spiral bound document, with 8.5 by 11 inch pages, that provides a boater’s guide to both forks of the river. It is divided into thirty-seven sections, each with two facing pages, one primarily text and graphics and the other a line-drawing map of a section of the river that is approximately ten miles long. The map shows nearby roads, dams, bridges, power plants, access points, and other information that boaters need to know as they travel on the river. The author provides information on “reading the river,” navigation information and advice, and other material that would be important for safe boating.

The West Fork of the White River begins east of Muncie, flows 273 miles to its confluence with the East Fork, and continues an additional forty-six miles as the White River with no fork designation, for a total of 319 miles to its mouth at the Wabash. The East Fork officially begins near Columbus, Indiana, at the confluence of the Flatrock River and the Driftwood River, the longest tributary of which is the Big Blue River.  The Big Blue-Driftwood River is 152 miles long and merged into the East Fork of the White River at Columbus, flows another 162 miles to the junction with the West Fork. Adding these two figures, the Big Blue-East Fork is 314 miles. It then travels another forty-six miles as part of the White River, making a total length of 360 miles.

Larger cities along the West Fork are Muncie, Anderson, Noblesville, Indianapolis, Martinsville, Spencer, Bloomfield, Edwardsport, and Washington. Starting at the officially designated beginning of the East Fork, larger communities are Columbus, Seymour, and Bedford. Hay’s description of this two-forked river confirms what one sees when looking at maps: for the most part, this river runs through rural country. In addition to towns and small cities, and the one major metropolitan area, Indianapolis, there are many villages, and cross roads settlements along this river. Even so, travelers should pay attention to food and other supplies. When motor boats are being used, special attention should be given to the fuel supplies.

One characteristic of the White River system stands out in the line drawing maps that Hays provides: it twists and turns in a constant sequence of wiggles throughout the length of both forks and their tributaries.

I have no experience with canoes or motor boats and therefore will not be able to see the White River according to Hay’s guide. As a cyclist, I could gradually work my way along, taking little roads to the river in many spots along its nearly 700 miles (counting the full length of both forks). It would be a slow process, and I’m not likely to undertake the full challenge.

I can, however, imagine a gradual process of exploring vantage points in Indianapolis and Marion County. Hays devotes two sections to this stretch, starting at mile 101 and ending at mile 127.

Another way to develop a bicyclist’s understanding of the White River would be to develop a route that pieces together roads and trails that stay close to the river. Even if such a route could be developed, riding would have to be easy-going. Just to figure out where to turn to stay on the right back roads would be a challenge. Often the roads would be rough and inhibit fast riding. And always, there would be things to look at and people with whom to talk.

In my mind’s eye, I can see it now. But will this virtual trip translate to tires on the road? Well….? What do you think?

white-river-indps

 


Reading the New Testament Beginning with Paul

December 8, 2017

Since I began writing blogs in April 2017 as keithwatkinshistorian.wordpress.com, I have published 441 columns on American religion, bicycling, and the environment. Month after month the column with the most readers is one I posted on September 6, 2013, with the title “Reading the New Testament in the Order the Books Were Written.”

Borg Evolution

New Testament Books in Historical Context

I described the Bible reading program that Marcus J. Borg had recommended in his recently published book, Evolution of the Word, which was to read the New Testament in the order that the books were written rather than in the order they are arranged in the Bible. This meant starting with seven epistles by Paul before reading any of the gospels or Acts.

New insights and new questions were among the results of this different way of reading a very familiar book. Why does Paul say so little about the life and ministry of Jesus? Much of his theology was a response to specific problems that his intended readers were facing, but we face different problems. How can Paul’s theological insights and pastoral guidance be applied to our situations?

I used the New Revised Standard Version because that and its predecessor have been the translations of choice much of my adult life. Along the way, I also consulted The New Interpreter’s Study Bible and The New Jerome Biblical Commentary, and I occasionally used other commentaries to clarify obscure points.

Along the way, I made notes, and when I finished my reading, nearly two years after starting, my personal commentary totaled 140 manuscript pages and nearly 20,000 words. Although it has not been my intention to publish these notes, a colleague (who has seen the set on Paul but has not read them) has urged me to make them available in a more public and permanent form.

Before showing him these notes, I had begun a second reading of the New Testament in chronological order. I’m still early in the project, having read only two short epistles (1 Thessalonians and Galatians) and half of a long one (1 Corinthians). I am using the Common English Bible (CEB), which is new to me, as my primary text and referring to notes in the CEB Study Bible.

In addition, I am using N. T. Wright’s series of popular commentaries entitled Paul for Everyone. Wright provides his own translation of these texts and it is interesting to compare his effort to translate these texts so that “the words can speak not just to some people, but to everyone” with the hope of the CEB’s translators that their new translation will “speak to people of various religious convictions and different social locations.”

I am reviewing my first set of notes as I read, but I am also creating a second set. From time to time I will consolidate the two sets into one new commentary which will replace the two previously developed sets of notes.

Years ago I read a book in which the author (neither the author’s name nor the book’s title come to mind) proposed that preachers develop a series of sermons each of which proclaims the central message of an entire book of the Bible. I may not write entire sermons, but I intend to select the text and suggest the sermon’s outline for each of the New Testament books as I make my second trip through the New Testament in the order that the books were written.

How long will this process take? Just reading and making notes is moving more slowly than the first time through. Consolidating the two sets of notes and developing sermonic possibilities will increase the time even more. Early this Advent season, my working plan is to finish this second reading of Paul’s epistles by Easter and the revised commentary with sermonic notes by Pentecost.


When cycling becomes mainstream, everyone’s safer

November 17, 2017

Part Two of a Response to How Cycling Can Save the World by Peter Walker

The Cultural Trail, Indianapolis

Peter Walker advocates that cities develop facilities for “mass cycling, the sort where, say 20 percent or even 30 percent of all trips . . . are made by bike [which] only happens when cycling becomes mainstream” (xi-xii). He writes with specific places as examples, including London where he lives, works, and rides his bike.

Lower Thames Street in downtown London is an ancient thoroughfare which in the 1960s was widened and made into “the sort of double-lane urban freeway so popular in that era, when the dominance of the car appeared absolute and forever” (viii). After the rebuild, only the most daring bike riders dared use it. Even Walker who had been a bike messenger in earlier years and continued to be “a reasonably confident rider” avoided Lower Thames Road after the rebuild.

Then came the decision to build two Dutch-style “Cycle Superhighways,” one of them on Lower Thames Road. Many Londoners scoffed at the idea, but when these two routes were opened in May 2015, they were deluged with cyclists. Now on these separated lanes, Walker writes, “I regularly wait at traffic lights amid a massed pack of two dozen or more cyclists.” Most of them are ordinary people, “older, younger, slower” than “the speedy young men riding rapid bikes” who used to be the main group of cyclists on the streets.

Although I have never seen a bicycle superhighway, I have no reason to doubt that they work the way that Walker reports. I see a little evidence while looking down from my apartment window and watching people riding the Cultural Trail in downtown Indianapolis. Not a superhighway, it is more like a super-sidewalk running alongside ordinary city streets, yet ordinary people on all kinds of bicycles use it for all kinds of trips—commuting to the office, buying groceries, shopping along Mass Ave, easy-going recreational rides, some with small children on trikes and bikes with training wheels.

Walker has persuaded me that creating networks of good cycle ways like the one on Lower Thames Road (and those in other cities he describes) would bring large numbers of people out on their bikes. I would probably use them, too—when they go to the places I want to go. I fantasize on how much better downtown Indianapolis would be if the Mile Square, with its geometrical grid, diagonal streets, and rich array of business and eating opportunities, would be redesigned in favor of ordinary people walking, riding bikes, and taking the bus.

For cycling to go mainstream, however, major challenges have to be met.

Designing bicycle-friendly streets: Walker writes that the foundational ideal is sustainable safety, which is definitively discussed in a 388-page guidebook written by Dutch traffic engineers. It has five principles. (1) Roads come in three types, high volume through routes, local streets, and connector routes. (2) Street systems should be homogenous, with big differences in size and speed eliminated as much as possible.” (3) Roads should be designed “so that people instantly know what sort they’re traveling on.” (4) “People are fallible. . .and the road environment should be as forgiving as possible.” (5) People should be educated on “how to remain safe” (119).

Even in bike-friendly cities like Portland and Seattle, streets currently fall short of meeting these criteria.

Educating the public: Cyclists certainly need to be educated. One way is with bike safety classes in schools where children and young people learn good cycling skills and traffic-wise patterns. Similar training can be offered in programs (I think of one in Portland) that help low-income adults get bikes for transportation. And most adults would benefit from training in attitude adjustment and learning better skills for cycling.

Of course, drivers need serious re-education to help them overcome what seems to be an instinctive determination to bully their way wherever they drive: jack-rabbit starts and stops, lane crowding, sudden and reckless twists and turns, cell phone and coffee cup distractions, and the unwillingness to give pedestrians common courtesy and rights to cross streets, especially at crosswalks.

Revising public policy: All of this requires significant shifts in public policy: city government, law enforcement, taxing authorities, business organizations, retail merchants. It sounds impossible, but Walker gives examples from places all over the world where it is happening. So maybe it can happen right here—wherever that is—and Walker believes that we’ll all be the better for it.

And so do I.

Even so, we have to save room for the  “Velcro-clad street warriors” of whatever age, whom Walker dismisses disdainfully. More on that next time.

 

 

 


A new kind of city—for bicycle riders and everyone else

November 13, 2017

Peter Walker’s title, “How Cycling Can Save the World,” catches the eye but overstates his intention. A sentence in the introduction is better: “This book is ultimately about everyday riders, and the astonishing and varied ways in which they can transform the urban environment and way of living for the better.”

The cyclists whom Walker eulogizes are personified by a woman he saw cycling on a London street: “peddling an ancient folding machine at a sedate, regal cadence,” she was “probably in her sixties, wearing red trousers and bright blue visor to shield her eyes from the glare.”

Walker hopes that his book, which is filled with reports of research studies, will encourage an ever-increasing number of people to think of bikes as “nothing more than a convenient, quick, cheap way of getting about, with the unintended bonus being the fact that you can get some exercise in the process.” He imagines a time when 20 to 30% of daily trips will be on two wheels.

How can this save the world? Rather, how can this kind of cycling transform life in the cities of the world, including the United Kingdom and the United States? In four ways, Walker declares.

A healthier world: “Study after study has shown that people who cycle regularly are less prone to obesity, diabetes, strokes, heart disease, and various cancers. Cyclists don’t just get extra life years, they’re more likely to remain mobile and independent into old age” (9). Cycling (instead of driving) as one’s normal way of getting around works because it is “incidental exercise,” something built into the ordinary activities of daily life, rather than add-on actions, like going to the gym, that are shoehorned into a schedule that’s already too full.

A safer world: We have normalized “a complacent, entitled, careless, driving culture, where millions of people who would see themselves as moral, kind, and careful people nonetheless get into a motor vehicle and routinely, unthinkingly, put others’ lives in peril” (39). Walker argues that “creating streets that are more welcoming for cyclists has a wider safety dividend for other road users, particularly pedestrians” (54). Drivers slow down a little, pay more attention to their driving, and are likely to make fewer trips.

A more equal world: Walker argues that “cycling can make societies fairer. It comes down to the fact that the bike is arguably the most equal and democratic form of transport in existence, at least in an urban setting. It is nearly as cheap as walking, and in some ways is arguably more inclusive, not least because. . . a bike can greatly expand your physical and social boundaries” (61). Bicycling offers mobility to people who otherwise are “travel-deprived,” including children, older people, women, and people with disabilities. Cycling is a less expensive way of getting around.

A happier, more prosperous world: Not only does cycling instead of driving improve the environment, but it has economic advantages, too. Walker claims that building better bike infrastructure is being “billed as a new model for competitive cities—that they are these days judged less on busy roads than on people-friendly streets lined with pavement cafes. . . [T]his philosophy aims to bring about a happier, healthier, more human-scale city” (88–9).

Networks of protected bicycle lanes: What has to happen to bring about this dramatic increase in the number of ordinary people who use their bikes for ordinary trips? Walker’s answer is stated in the title of chapter 5, right in the middle of the book: “Build It, and They Will Come.” A hasty reading of the chapter suggests that the key to changing cities is “fully segregated cycleways,” in which cyclists and motorists are completely separated. One example is a new network of these roadways in Seville, Spain, that was completed in 2006. Within a couple of years, the number of trips starting by bicycle increased from 0.5 percent to 6 percent.

Later in the chapter, Walker makes it clear that building protected cycle ways is only part of the strategy for change. “And for all the occasional opaque discussions about curb heights, lane barriers, and traffic light phases, this is about something more fundamental. Bike infrastructure is, at its heart, about a changed vision for the place occupied by human beings in the modern urban world” (112).

In forthcoming blogs, I plan to  continue my discussion of Walker’s book. Coming next: Walker’s recommendations for how to transform cities like Indianapolis where I live. In the third blog of the series I intend to speak on behalf of cyclists (like me) whom Walker disparages—the “Lycra-clad warriors” ready to hold our own in streams of traffic on city streets.

[How Cycling Can Save the World, by Peter Walker (New York: TarcherPerigee, 2017)]