100 books like Religion and the American Constitutional Experiment

This is the book that first piqued my interest in the often contentious relations between church and state in American political and constitutional history, and it inspired my lifelong study of this topic. Although not without its problems, Robert L. Cord’s book offered a bracing critique of the U.S. Supreme Court’s mid-20th-century version of “history,” which the justices said confirmed the founders’ intent to erect a “high and impregnable” wall of separation between church and state.

The book questioned the foundations of the Court’s church-state jurisprudence and invited readers to reconsider the founding generation’s prudential and constitutional views on church-state relations.

This is perhaps the most talked-about book of the last generation on church-state relations. It offers a sweeping survey of the conceptions and rhetoric of church-state separation in American political and legal traditions from colonial times to the mid-20th century.  

Philip Hamburger challenges the notion that “separation of church and state,” as developed in 20th-century jurisprudence, is a fundamental American principle deeply embedded in the nation’s political and constitutional traditions. Rather, he argues, the rhetoric of separation emerged from the cynical politics of late-18th-century disestablishment battles and was picked up in the next century by nativists seeking to marginalize Catholics (while preserving Protestant hegemony) and by liberals intent on establishing a secular polity. I read few pages in this book that failed to prompt reflection or challenge long-held assumptions.

This elegantly crafted book examines two centuries of American history with remarkable clarity and brevity, revealing a vital, sustained, and salutary role played by a vibrant religious culture in the colonies and new nation. James H. Hutson, former Chief of the Manuscript Division at the Library of Congress, wrote Religion and the Founding of the American Republic to accompany the Library’s 1998 exhibition of the same title.

I am also drawn to the book’s many visual images–paintings, photographs, cartoons, document facsimiles, etc.–illustrating religion’s role in American political culture. I often recommend this slender volume as the best short history of religion’s role in American public life from the colonial era to the early 19th century.

Mark David Hall’s engaging book revisits the persistent myth that the American founding was a strictly secular project. He investigates, among other topics, whether the American founders were, as is often claimed, all deists who framed a strictly secular or even “godless” Constitution. Did the founders, he asks, erect a high wall of separation between church and state, thereby restricting religion’s role in public life? 

These are not questions of merely academic interest; rather, as Hall explains, they have implications for law and public policy today. His insightful book compels lay readers and seasoned scholars alike to reconsider conventional views regarding religion’s role in American history and political tradition.  

This is a brilliant textbook. Digging into my studies, I found a philosophy of law, in regards to the respect due to the nature of the human being, within the Bible, and sensing the same philosophy within the U.S. Constitution, I purchased this book. Much like the other books, these authors do a good job, through their presenting and reviewing of various cases, and of other documents, of setting the Constitution in the right light. I am recommending this book because it is a good read for anyone wanting to better understand the context of the Constitution’s ideology. I found this book to be not only educational but personally edifying. 

Well over 200,000 books have been written about Napoleon, but this recent work actually manages to say something new by focusing on an aspect of his reign that has been oddly neglected – at least in the English-speaking world – his tense and turbulent relations with the Pope, Pius VII, which ended with the Pope’s kidnapping from Rome by French forces in 1809 and imprisonment in France. Though bullied, browbeaten, and even once physically manhandled by Napoleon, the elderly Pontiff steadfastly refused to make the concessions to the secular power that his captor demanded from him. Ambrogio Caiani not only brings vividly to life an extraordinary clash of personalities, but also a key episode in one of the great conflicts that has shaped the modern world: the rivalry between church and state.

In my opinion, Bill Taylor is the greatest living American historian of Mexico. He has written big books and small books, all brilliant, all canonical, and his latest is no exception. In this labor of love, he traces the lives of two charlatans wandering the Mexican countryside, living and suffering by their wits, usually impersonating priests. The stories, in themselves, go nowhere: our two lowlife protagonists bounce from town to town, jail to jail, and never learn a thing or reach an epiphany; but taken together they paint a picture of Spanish American society as exceptionally mobile, and dysfunctionally unstable. Marked by displacement, dislocation, and immigration, New Spain gave birth to the picaresque novel, rooted in an abiding sense that nothing was ever as it seemed. This is Taylor’s real reward: a glimpse at two unpolished, real-life pícaros in the historical record.

Knowing our history is so important, and this is one of the best books on the history of Christian nationalism in the United States during the 20th century.

What becomes so clear is the cultural influences on American Christianity including which voices are lifted up, and which ones are ignored or silenced. Let’s just say you won’t ever look at Billy Graham and his work the same way again.

Poles have long prided themselves on having been tolerant of religious differences, this toleration dating from the deep historical past. In this pathbreaking and provocative work, Natalia Nowakowska challenges such interpretations of King Sigismund’s relationship to Protestants and Protestantism. Exquisitely argued, the book is an absolute tour de force, one that sheds new light on the period of the early Reformation.

I read this book years ago in high school, and my eyes were opened. The hero, Julien Sorel, is—like I was when I read the novel—naïve, confused, trusting, inexperienced, and prone to awkwardness and error. In short, I could relate to someone in circumstances (boarding school!) where I desperately needed someone who was highly imperfect with whom I could identify.

It might have been the first time I read an adult book where I felt I might actually meet the main character one day, walking down the street or even in the hallway.