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God's Harvard: A Christian College on a Mission to Save America Paperback – September 8, 2008
| Hanna Rosin (Author) Find all the books, read about the author, and more. See search results for this author |
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Since 2000, America’s most ambitious young evangelicals have been making their way to Patrick Henry College, a small Christian school just outside the nation’s capital. Most of them are homeschoolers whose idealism and discipline put the average American teenager to shame. And God’s Harvard grooms these students to be the elite of tomorrow, dispatching them to the front lines of politics, entertainment, and science, to wage the battle to take back a godless nation. Hanna Rosin spent a year and a half embedded at the college, following the students from the campus to the White House, Congress, conservative think tanks, Hollywood, and other centers of influence. Her account captures this nerve center of the evangelical movement at a moment of maximum influence and also of crisis, as it struggles to avoid the temptations of modern life and still remake the world in its own image.
- Print length312 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherMariner Books
- Publication dateSeptember 8, 2008
- Dimensions5.25 x 0.78 x 8 inches
- ISBN-100156034999
- ISBN-13978-0156034999
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Editorial Reviews
Review
PRAISE FOR GOD'S HARVARD "A rare accomplishment for many reasons—perhaps most of all because Rosin is a journalist who not only reports but also observes deeply. Her insights come through in her balanced portrayal of each student, the nuance with which she inserts her own first-person narration, and—not least—her dry and sometimes acerbic sense of humor."—San Francisco Chronicle "Nuanced and highly readable . . . [with] feisty, richly detailed prose."—The Washington Post —
From the Inside Flap
Hanna Rosin spent a year and a half embedded at the college, following students from the campus to the White House, Congress, conservative think tanks, Hollywood, and other centers of influence. Her account captures this nerve center of the evangelical movement at a moment of maximum influence and also of crisis, as it struggles to avoid the temptations of modern life and still remake the world in its own image.
From the Back Cover
About the Author
HANNA ROSIN has covered religion and politics for the Washington Post. She has also written for the New Yorker, the New Republic, GQ, and the New York Times. She lives in Washington, D.C., with her husband, Slate editor David Plotz, and their two children.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Welcome, Surfer Ninjas and Knights
Many seventeen-year-olds brag or exaggerate on their college applications. Not Derek Archer. Even when he wrote to Patrick Henry College about the year that had set the course of his life—the year when he, a homeschooled missionary’s kid from a depressed suburb of Akron, got to see President George W. Bush in person—Derek kept his hubris in check. “I would be a fool to believe I made it through the past few months by my might and my power, for truly it was by the Lord’s grace and His Spirit alone!”
Derek was not one of the school’s usual incoming freshman stars known as “the 1600s”—the handful of kids each year who get perfect scores on their SATs and ignore courting letters from Harvard and Stanford to come to Patrick Henry. What he had was not something the six-year-old college could easily boast about in press releases, but what it valued much more: a near-perfect balance of ambition and humility, the one impulse pushing him toward the White House and the other always reminding him Who was really in charge.
In a few heady months during the fall of 2004, the Bush campaign had served as one endless, amazing high school field trip—better than going to Europe or Disneyland or Papua, New Guinea, where his family once lived in a house on stilts. He had made phone calls and knocked on doors in the critical swing districts in Ohio, near where he lived. He had won a contest for registering more than 100 voters. He had learned to take verbal abuse with grace. He had created a minor local celebrity by writing articles and flyers under the fogyish nom de plume “Franz Holbein” who complained about “some of the most appalling displays of disrespect this nation has ever seen.” Twenty minutes before the polls closed, a car full of rowdies whizzed by him, screaming “Kerry won! Kerry won!” He prayed it couldn’t be true, and his prayers were answered. In the battle between the “forces of righteousness and unrighteousness,” the right side had won.
“Those few months have had a powerful impact on my life in preparing me for the ministry of political activism,” he wrote to Patrick Henry. “If in any matter I can bring glory to my God and King, may He grant me the grace to do just that.”
It’s not just that Derek was a missionary’s kid and knew how to say the right things. Patrick Henry prides itself on not being your run-of-the-mill Bible college: It doesn’t give automatic preference to MKs, who can be just as rotten as any kids. Instead the school takes the measure of its students constantly, probing the nature of each individual’s personal relationship with Jesus Christ with the care and trepidation of a parent monitoring a fever, or a schoolgirl checking whether you’re still her best friend. Under that microscope, Derek glowed.
God’s voice was like the sound track to the movie of Derek’s life, lending texture and meaning to every action. In return, Derek thanked God for everything. He thanked Him when a seemingly chance meeting led to a great internship at the local Republican headquarters. “The Lord just dropped that one into my lap!” He thanked Him for his mom sending his favorite granola bars, for his sister passing her driving test, for the extra cheese on his turkey sub. He thanked Him for his new used car, although it was dark purple and the AC didn’t work and the windows seemed to be glued shut. He thanked Him for his after-school job at Leach’s Meats and Sweets down the road, where he worked in the chilly back room hacking up raw chickens and grinding up beef to stuff into their “famous” sausages while tolerating the boss’s son’s endless tracks of AC/DC (“the worst band in the whole wide world”).
“It’s really been a blessing,” he told me one day as he wiped his knife on an apron streaked with bloodstains.
In the year before he left for college, Derek had moved down to the basement of his parents’ house in Barberton, six miles south of Akron. In the evenings, his mom, Donna Archer, would go down there to drop off his clean laundry “and see if he’s ready to hit the hay, and I’d find him down on his knees praying. As a Christian mom, nothing thrills me more. Nobody was watching him; it’s the real thing. He doesn’t do it to please us. You can see God’s spirit at work in him.”
“Because of that,” his mom added, “I’m not worried if he heads into politics.”
For Patrick Henry College, Derek was a white sheep, the son you were pretty sure wouldn’t roll his eyes at you the minute you turned your head or sneak a cigarette outside his dorm window at night. The school thought of itself as a training ground for political missionaries; its founder, Michael Farris, traveled the country recruiting conservative Christian kids like Derek who were bright, politically minded, and itching to be near the president. Farris was aware of the risks of launching them into the cutthroat and dirty world of politics: He could unwittingly turn out to be the agent of their corruption, involving them in what Derek had once heard described by a pastor as “an innately wicked endeavor.” So Derek was a particular gem, a boy who, as much as anyone this side of heaven, seemed incorruptible.
“Okay. Here goes,” Derek said, as he spotted the Welcome Students sign hanging in Founders Hall. Like most of the kids who go to Patrick Henry, Derek was homeschooled by his parents all the way through high school, so college could be a shock. But during orientation week the campus still felt warm and familiar, like a big homeschool family reunion. The central buildings and dorms were packed with typically oversized homeschooling families—ten-year-old girls pushing strollers, toddlers scrambling after their pregnant moms like baby ducks. The little kids were eerily independent and well behaved; they sat in circles on the grass or outside the cafeteria, playing games or reading the campus maps for fun. The incoming freshmen boys, meanwhile, looked like children playing the role of adults in a high school play, with crisp white polo shirts, new leather computer bags, and their last bits of acne. The girls wore twin sets over their khakis or black slacks, which surprised Derek’s mom. “Okay, this is going to be more casual dress for the girls than I thought,” said Donna, whose daughter goes to a Christian school where skirts are required. But, she added, “I’m happy for the lack of tattoos and piercings.”
A handful of families looked like reenactors lost on their way to Colonial Williamsburg: mothers in braids carrying babies in bonnets, girls in their best Laura Ingalls Wilder white-collared dresses taking a stroll around the lake—a tableau that made the campus feel a century—not an hour—away from downtown Washington, D.C. The parking lot was jammed with vans bearing messages on their bumpers: truth, or bush/cheney, or life. One license plate read momof8.
Derek, who has blue eyes and sharply parted blond hair, already had business casual down. He was wearing an oxford shirt and khakis and sneakers that looked recently cleaned. Like many homeschooled boys, Derek seemed both old and young for his age. If he was in a good mood, he bounced more than walked and whistled, like Dennis without the menace, or an old contented preacher lost in happy thoughts. With his tall frame, gangly arms, and big grin, he was built for stand-up comedy but he was more often straining to seem more serious. He was polite and sometimes absurdly formal, and when he was talking to an adult and feeling nervous, he used constructions more appropriate for the witness stand. (“Yes, ma’am, I have been to this campus on two prior occasions.”)
The campus is tiny, less like an Ivy League college than like a Hollywood set of an old Ivy League school, with one main building and several dorms grouped around a lake, all in Federalist style. The art in Founders Hall is designed to remind the students that America was founded as a Christian nation—a gallery of portraits of the Founding Fathers, all copies, leads up the staircase to the picture of Patrick Henry at the second Virginia convention, a shaft of light from Heaven guiding his speech. “Harvard for Homeschoolers,” founder Michael Farris likes to call it, invoking the Harvard of earlier days, whose laws instructed students to “know God and Jesus Christ.”
The last time Derek was on campus, his assigned dorm hadn’t been built yet, and when he saw it, he was impressed. “So stately,” he said, noting the chandelier in the entranceway and the winding staircase leading up to his room on the second floor. But the first thing that struck me about the boys’ dorms was what was missing. Even during moving week, there were no flip-flops and shorts, because the dres...
Product details
- Publisher : Mariner Books; First edition (September 8, 2008)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 312 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0156034999
- ISBN-13 : 978-0156034999
- Item Weight : 10.4 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.25 x 0.78 x 8 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #3,391,609 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #3,001 in Sociology & Religion
- #3,889 in Religious Groups & Communities Studies
- #4,503 in Church & State Religious Studies
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That said, "God's Harvard" is also a cautionary tale about the rise to power of a group of people who should and, indeed, must be kept as far away from it as possible. The book is about a college set up expressly to educate young men and women who have been "homeschooled" -- in other words, who have undergone the process which without much exaggeration could be called "religious bigots training children to be bigots, too." In the America of George the younger, graduates of this establishment can hope for jobs in government departments, think tanks, and perhaps even the White House itself. And yet it is a school which constantly shoots itself in the foot. Even "homeschooled" teenagers seldom fail to be teenagers with exploring minds, and anyone with even a small modicum of intellectual curiosity must surely see that some of the basic tenets of the fundamentalist faith which underpins the school are at least questionable, if not far, far worse. So, too, even the most buttoned-down teenager will at least think about loosening the top two buttons, if not actually going ahead and doing it (there are, it must be said, several young people in the book who never loosen any buttons, go through the process of "courtship" as if they were in the 19th century, and, in one case, never ever kiss until their wedding).
Inevitably, "God's Harvard" deals in large part with the twaddle (and there can be no other word for it) that hides under the quasi-intellectual title of Intelligent Design. The book reveals that this is twaddle which has attracted a certain number of people with important educational credentials. There is one young man who is repored, with wide-eyed amazement, as having learned at the foot of the great Stephen Gould himself. But "God's Harvard" ends with the school's most popular professors -- those who asked students to think, rather than just parrot Bible phrases -- resigning in exasperation. The premise of those scientists who stick to the party line, as it were, must necessarily be that science is the sum of all that humankind have discovered through observation and evidence, and faith is a process whereby people must seek to reduce that sum of knowledge, not enhance it. There can be absolutely no intellectual argument whatsoever for the ludicrous idea that the Earth is 6,000 years old and that the reason for fossils is that God is a frisky kind of character who scattered them about as a trick. No intellectual argument. No scintilla of intellectual argument. So how a person with a doctoral degree can stand in front of students and seek to apply Genesis, no matter how questioningly, to issues of geology, biology, etc., is incomprehensible, and Hanna Rosin's book makes it absoutely clear that anyone with true intellectual integrity must necessarily turn away from such a position. Or else, presumably, find it terribly difficult to sleep at night or to look at themselves in the mirror.
I write this review as a person of faith myself, and I sometimes struggle with the question of how I can receive God's message so very much differently from the leadership of Patrick Henry College. I can only conclude that God gave me a brain for a reason, and I cannot believe that He wants me to use faith to ignore that which is readily evident and patently clear. Hanna Rosin has written an important book which illustrates that struggle very well, and I thank her for it. I recommend this book wholeheartedly to anyone who is concerned about what the "religious right" is doing in America's educational system. I live in Europe, and I can assure you that no university in Britain, France or Germany would put up with that kind of nonsense for a single, solitary moment.
*How several overly-religious, over-achieving youngsters cope with a new and unique overly-religious, over-achieving college.
*How these students decide where to draw the line when it comes to participation in today's seductive secular culture - with the help of prayer, a personal relationship with Jesus, and Patrick Henry College's conduct manual and "snitch" policy.
*How an attorney, who made a career out of representing the interests of home-schooling parents, opened an evangelical college designed to put high achieving home-schoolers on a career path leading to politics. Student volunteers are given time off to assist the Republicans during each election cycle. A huge number of them get positions assisting Republican Congressmen and Senators in Washington DC during their off time.
*How these kids have been taught since birth that God is on the side of the Republican Party.
Patrick Henry College must tweak a continuous balancing act to maintain their offense and defense against secularism. Founder and President Michael Farris would like PHC to be part of the movement that would return the United States to be the God-fearing society it believes the founding fathers intended. This means an education that enhances a working knowledge of and working relationship with the enemy. That knowledge, at times, enhances the inadvertent defection of some of their brightest stars to the dark side.
Robert Stacey, PhD, consistently was a role model and favored teacher at Patrick Henry. Among other things, he caused students to question whether, for example, Bush's every move had been the correct one, and whether, in truth, all the founding fathers were as religious as these home-schoolers had always been taught. Jennifer Gruenke, PhD, taught biology. She didn't believe in evolution but she taught it - on the basis that you have to know the correct theory in order to honestly oppose it. She also taught alternatives - intelligent design and even a 10,000 year old earth inhabited by a naked lady and a snake, as portrayed in Genesis.
These instructors and several others are no longer at Patrick Henry. They resigned en mass when Farris tried to enforce a more Biblical code on their curriculum - caving in to complaints from home-schooling parents.
Not my cup of tea, nor is it the author's, who is a journalist specializing in religion and is a non-practicing Jew. In the hands of other authors, this book could have been a scathing indictment of a Taliban-like fundamentalist sinkhole - or it could have presented PHC to be a suger-coated nirvana-land, but she has done neither. For a year and a half she was granted freedom to the campus and to those who live and work there. She is open-mindedly empathetic, but realistic about them.
It appears PHC will be a significant force in the future, influencing politics and culture wherever they think they can. This is a very interesting, timely book and I recommend it.

