18 books like The Power of Religion in the Public Sphere

Growing up during the Islamic Revolution in Iran in 1979, Marji is outspoken and brave and one of several strong female characters in this book who challenges stereotypes and kicks ass. I loved following her political, spiritual, and personal growth.

Persepolis is a much-needed history lesson in the form of a comic book. It deals with heavy themes, but not without a generous dose of humor and heart. My students and I often spent several minutes dissecting one panel—and the last panel made some of us weep. 

I don’t think I really understood the relationship between religious faith, constructions of race, and the law before reading this book.

Darian-Smith walks the reader through several essential cases from the 16th to the 21st centuries, all grounded in thorough analysis and accessible prose. Reading her chapter on the Dawes Act and the way the law was weaponized against Native communities in the U.S. knocked me on my heels, while her final chapters on the Nuremberg war trials and the challenges of neoliberalism in an age of globalization redefined my understanding of our modern world.

With illustrations throughout and an ability to paint a clear picture of the topic, this is a book I return to regularly.

Rarely has a book blown my mind like this one. Kahn lays bare the foundations of our modern political structures and how we adapt religious conceptions to imbue our states with a sacred aura. I’m fascinated by sacrifice and its place within our civic life, and this book highlights how nearly every aspect of our sovereign international system relies to some extent upon the concept.

It’s like a conceptual history of our modern nation-states that reveals them as ‘religious’ undertakings. While the other books on the list lay out the historical and sociological aspects of religion and politics, this book showed me how religion IS politics—and politics, religion—in unexpected and important ways.

This book is another that radically changed my perspective, and I use it routinely to help illustrate how complex the topics of religion and politics are.

What benefited me most is how Hurd challenges the very category of religion and how that category is (mis)applied in several countries. I love how she takes to task the simplistic narratives around religion and shows that they are not only insufficient but downright dangerous.

This book clearly outlines those dangers, their origins, and some noteworthy suggestions for how we can better deal with religion around the world. I find something new in each reread, both in terms of the contexts she analyzes and her approach. 

Like President Biden, whenever I want an eloquent, historically grounded analysis of the liberal American project, I turn to Jon Meacham.

In the midst of an ever-growing culture war between extremists who claim the United States was founded as a Christian Nation and those claiming an impermeable wall of separation between all religion and the state, Meacham offers a calmly argued defense of the much more nuanced American approach to religious freedom.

I love the way he teases out the religious influences that helped shape the thinking of American leaders and how they are melded with the guiding principles of liberty, justice, and respect for individual freedom as set forth in the Declaration of Independence.  

In this book, Pankaj Mishraj describes how the failures of secular modernity led to the rise of revanchist movements seeking to provide those left behind with a common sense of purpose.

I greatly appreciated the international scope of Mishraj’s analysis, with which he reveals how the growth of reactionary, theocratic, and xenophobic populist politics across the globe are manifestations of the same sense of malaise.

He convincingly argues that these tensions are as old as modernity itself. Rather than engaging strictly with the same old historical and sociological sources to make his case, the author refreshingly engages the poets and novelists of the era he describes.

The academic world began to dismantle the idea that there had always been a conflict between science and history about 50 years ago, but this book was one of the first to try and tell that story more widely.

It isn’t all one-sided. The authors dismantle some other popular "harmony" myths too (e.g., that Einstein believed in a personal God or that Quantum Physics proves free will), but for the most part, the myths they take apart–that mediaeval world thought the world was flat, or that the Church denounced anaesthesia on biblical grounds–are the ones that have lodged the idea of warfare in our cultural mind without justification.

Full disclosure: I spent two weeks studying with Professor Volf in a summer seminar on Faith and Globalization in 2010, which occurred after the publication of my book.

Along with Tony Blair, he taught a similar undergraduate seminar between 2008 and 2011 at Yale University, which became the basis for Flourishing. I admire Volf’s boldness in summarizing the vast debates between major world religions concisely here. But, characteristically, he defines his terms precisely and defends his thesis clearly.

Although he identifies with the Christian tradition, he is eager to foster an inclusive dialogue between that tradition and others. His consistently evenhanded tone models the very kind of dialogue our world needs if we are to begin making peace.

Tom Segev is one of the once “new” Israeli historians who, in the 1980s, began writing a critical history of their young state. I particularly like this portrait he drew of early Israel, which fought for independence and statehood against external aggression and took in hundreds of thousands of new immigrants within a short period of time.

It is not an idealized account, and it talks, for instance, about the selective nature of early Israeli immigration policy–a topic I also touched upon in my book. Emblematic for the complex history of Israel, a country forged from migration, is the author’s dedication of the English translation, published in 1986, to his mother, an immigrant from Germany “who never learnt Hebrew properly and could not read this book until it came out in English.” 

This book made me rethink how we consider the idea of the Middle Ages–full stop.

Pegg tracks the medieval period through the concept of holiness, and if you think that might be boring, then I have got news for you about how wild medieval (and Late Antique!) people were.

Whether it is being stoked to be sent to your death in the gladiatorial ring or writing transcendent fiction about how the girl you had a crush on as a teenager is waiting for you in heaven, Pegg shows that medieval people were constantly rethinking what it meant to be alive and how to square that in a Christian society. I guarantee it will make Trad Caths absolutely livid.