When Elena Kagan joined the Supreme Court in 2010, there was ample chatter about the fact that there were no longer any Protestant justices on the Court. With six Catholics and three Jews, the Court stood in stark contrast to the bare majority of the country that affiliates as Protestant. Supreme Court appointments are few in number and idiosyncratic, but there’s a broader religious demographic phenomenon that’s harder to explain away as random: the underrepresentation of evangelical Protestants among the American legal elite.
First, some definitions and boundaries. The gold standard for religious affiliation in the United States is the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life. Using their affiliation categories, here are the breakdowns for the largest religious demographic groups in the U.S.: evangelical Protestant 26%; mainline Protestant 18%; Catholic 24%; historically black church (which would include evangelical and non-evangelical Protestants) 7%; Jewish and Mormon 1.7%; unaffiliated 16%. By “legal elite,” I refer to something with looser boundaries, but still recognizable. Roughly, it would include elite federal judges (Supreme Court and the most prestigious federal circuits); top legal jobs in the executive branch (Solicitor General’s office, White House counsel, etc.); law professors at top-ranked law schools; and various talent pools that feed into the upper echelon of legal jobs (i.e., student bodies at elite law schools; Supreme Court clerkships).
My strong intuition is that evangelicals are grossly underrepresented in the legal elite. To focus again on the (admittedly idiosyncratic) Supreme Court, it’s not just that there are currently no Protestants on the court, it’s that at least since the rise of modern evangelicalism as a political force in 1970s, there has never been an evangelical on the Court. Even though evangelicals have had great success in politics writ large, including the Presidency, Congress, and governorships, they have been conspicuously absent from the top echelons of the federal judiciary.
It’s a good bet that that this underrepresentation stretches back to the beginning of the elite pipeline that feeds the elite echelons. While I’m unaware of any good data on the religious affiliation of law students at elite law schools, my own experience suggests that evangelicals fall far short of their national demographic numbers in elite law school enrollment. Several years ago, David Skeel, Larissa Vaysman, and I conducted an online survey of the religious affiliation of first-year students at a top ten law school (a project we are hoping to continue elsewhere). The 57% of the students who responded provided the following data. Evangelical Protestants comprised merely 7%, compared to the national figure of 26%, while mainline Protestants and Catholics largely maintained their national shares (16% for mainline Protestant compared to 18% nationally, 20% for Catholics compared to 24% nationally). Caveat: this was just one survey and there are all sorts of statistical problems with extrapolating from voluntary online surveys, so take this for what it’s worth. Still, this snapshot resonated with my intuitions about law school enrollments. And it would be very surprising if evangelical Protestants amounted to even 5% of the law professors at the top law schools.
Let me be clear that I’m not starting out to tell a bias or victimization story. The enormous disparity between national demographics and the legal elite (if my intuitions and fuzzy data points are right) could have many different and complicated explanations. Nor am I necessarily taking a position on the normative implications of evangelical underrepresentation. For purposes of this post, I just want to make the empirical point, such as it is. In future posts I will offer some observations on possible explanatory stories and the normative dimensions, if any.






How Would Jesus Rule on Same-Sex Marriage?
As the U.S. Supreme Court prepares to rule on same-sex marriage, Christians on both sides of the issue continue to invoke Jesus in support of their position. Or, more precisely, they invoke a vision of ethics and morality (i.e., inclusivity vs. traditional moral values) that they associate with Christian teaching. But how would Jesus actually have responded if asked “how should the Supreme Court rule on same-sex marriage?”
That’s anachronistic, of course, but it’s the kind of question that “teachers of the law” routinely flung at Jesus, usually with the intention of entrapping or discrediting him. The legal elite of Jesus’ day peppered him with hot button legal and ethical questions like “should we pay taxes to Caesar” and “to whom do I owe neighborly duties?” Often, these questions involved marriage and sexuality: May a man divorce a woman for any and every reason? How should a woman caught in adultery be punished? If a woman marries seven different husbands in succession and then dies herself, which one is she married to in Heaven? It’s not hard to imagine CNN legal analyst Jeff Toobin cornering Jesus and asking him, “Hey Jesus, how about same-sex marriage?”
It would be presumptuous of me to say how Jesus would answer that question, so I won’t. But I will offer three observations from things Jesus actually said in response to similar questions.
First, Jesus would likely have faulted both sides of the debate for an excessively materialist perspective. On one side, we hear that marriage is about procreation and child rearing. On the other, that it’s about love and companionship. But Jesus did not understand marriage primarily in terms of its temporal or material effects. For Jesus, marriage was a spiritual representation of divine relationships. According to Jesus, God created man and woman—male and female—in the image of God, mirroring the unity and diversity within the Godhead. Jesus and later apostolic writers referred to Jesus as a bridegroom and the Church as his bride. Jesus explained that in Heaven people would not be married to one another, since they would be in perfect union with God. Thus, the ultimate good of marriage was not that it served immediate material needs but that it celebrated the eternal nature of God.
This understanding of marriage has precious little purchase in the contemporary, hyper-materialist world. Even those who recognize marriage’s “spiritual” component usually mean that psychosomatically—marriage feeds long-term emotional and pyschological needs. We’ve lost any sense of human institutions as good because of their correspondence to divinity. Across the ideological spectrum, we’ve given in to Richard Posner’s wish of “unmasking and challenging the Platonic, traditionalist, and theological vestiges in Enlightenment thinking.” It’s safe to say that Jesus would have had a different take.
Second, and in some tension with my first observation, Jesus might have responded to a question about same-sex marriage by distinguishing between the spiritual ideal and pragmatic legal rules. That is what Jesus did on divorce. When asked whether a man should be allowed to divorce a woman for any and every reason, Jesus responded that Mosaic law allowed for divorce because of the hardness of people’s hearts, but that things weren’t that way from the beginning. Jesus was not advocating a change in the law, but a change in people’s hearts.
Christian thinkers have long debated the distinction between legal and spiritual marital norms. When Britain was liberalizing its divorce laws in the 1940s, my two favorite Christian writers, J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, took different views on whether Christians should advocate that secular legal institutions mirror the spiritual ideal. Tolkien opposed the divorce reforms on the grounds that the spiritual should inform the legal. Lewis argued for a pragmatic differentiation between the spiritual and the legal. In my view, Lewis was closer to the position staked by Jesus.
Finally, chances are that Jesus’ answer would go to issues far beyond the narrow question presented. This was almost invariably Jesus’ pattern when confronted with hot-button legal issues. He always found the question itself less important than the darkness it exposed. Thus, he turned the question about paying taxes to Caesar into condemnation of his questioners’ failure to honor God, the adultery penalty question into an indictment of his interlocutors’ self-righteousness, and the divorce question into an exposé of spiritual hardness. I shiver to think of how he might turn the same-sex marriage question back on us. All of us.
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Posted in CLR Forum Guest, Commentary, Daniel Crane
Tagged Christianity, Church and State, Marriage, Same-sex Marriage