This book is a moving and motivating call to resist our culture’s short-sighted rejection of history and to embrace a faith and a life-style shaped by historical narratives. The book is aimed at general readers, rather than academic historians and tacitly assumes that readers are at least sympathetic both to the author’s Christian faith and to her moderately conservative interpretation of it. It is beyond the scope of this review to assess these background beliefs, so I consider the merits of the book for its target readership.

Irving-Stonebreaker argues that the contemporary West finds itself in what she terms ‘an ahistoric age’. By this she means not only that people are increasingly disinterested in and ignorant of history, but also that we have lost much of our sense that the histories of our communities and cultures can function as framing narratives for our own lives. As a result, much public discussion of history descends into shrill argument about which political agenda the history can be used to support. Irving-Stonebreaker borrows the concept of ‘therapeutic individualism’, from the sociologists Christian Smith and Melinda Lundquist Denton. This is an approach to life that ‘defines the individual self as the source and standard of authentic moral knowledge and authority, and individual self-fulfillment as the primary purpose of life’.Footnote ¹ This kind of personal philosophy is increasingly prevalent today. Ever-increasing opportunities to express ourselves by buying products and posting on social media mean we are continually invited to define and express ourselves creatively in competition with others. This individualism means our identity is no longer influenced by the people we see every day in our communities, so it is even less likely to be influenced by our ancestors. The result is that there is no deep background to the moral values which enable public discourse. The original part of this cultural analysis is the central role Irving-Stonebreaker gives to the rejection of history. She is not making the argument beloved of certain politicians, that societal unity in western nations would be boosted by teaching in schools a rose-tinted version of national history. Indeed, she repeatedly emphasises the need to own humbly the dark aspects of our past. Her point is that an awareness of history leads to a sense of participation in a larger narrative, which in turn fosters the understanding of moral values necessary for mature debate.

Irving-Stonebreaker also discusses the impact of our ahistoric culture on the Church. Forgetting history is particularly problematic for Christians, because Christianity is a faith, not only in a historic person, but in a story that is believed to have unfolded within history. Unlike, say, the Qur’an, the Bible is a collection of texts, many of which are historiographical, and in its final form the Christian Bible can be read as a unified narrative, most of which takes place in the historically accessible past. We see the positive influence of N. T. Wright and the Sydney biblical theologians.

Irving-Stonebreaker’s solution is that we become ‘priests of history’. The phrase takes its inspiration from Robert Boyle’s conception of himself as a ‘priest of nature’. In applying this to history, Irving-Stonebreaker draws on work by the biblical scholar, Greg Beale, arguing that Adam, in Eden, was something like a priest in the temple of creation. She then takes God’s command to Adam in Genesis ii.15 to ‘tend and keep’ the garden and applies it to history. The concepts ‘tend’ and ‘keep’ then shape Irving-Stonebreaker’s prescription for every Christian in relation to history. Biblical scholars might question if tending and keeping are distinctively priestly activities, but the more important point is persuasive, that the past is part of the created order and therefore humanity is divinely called to steward and develop it. Tending history means telling the hitherto unknown stories, often of the marginalised and minorities. Keeping history means maintaining knowledge of the past story of the Church and allowing it to constructively contribute to the conversation today. In the final section, Irving-Stonebreaker reflects on what this looks like in practice. She describes how she and her family have incorporated historic devotional and liturgical practices into their daily lives and she argues movingly and persuasively for engaging with historical art, music and literature for the sake of our moral and intellectual formation.

Throughout the work, Irving-Stonebreaker includes examples, all drawn from primary sources, ranging from Justin Martyr, in early second-century Rome, to Doug Nicholls, the twentieth-century preacher, sportsman and activist for the civil rights of indigenous Australians. Although the book is accessible to the general public, its use of historical sources is scholarly.

Irving-Stonebreaker never claims that the beliefs and practices of the historic Church are always normatively right. However, there is scope for more discussion about when and how the historical Church should be normative for the Church today. Irving-Stonebreaker’s examples of the Church’s drift from history range from worship modelled on secular entertainment to liberalisation on homosexuality. Whatever one thinks about either issue, sexuality is a more significant and life-impacting question. Anecdotally, in the Church of England, congregations that favour a historic worship style often also favour modern, progressive theological and ethical beliefs and vice-versa. It would be interesting to consider why this is so and whether it should be. Irving-Stonebreaker is to be commended for citing people on all sides of the sexuality debate who do not identify as heterosexual.

Ecclesiastical historians of a different religious persuasion to Irving-Stonebreaker will find the book a helpful text to demonstrate to Christian students the value of history. Readers who are even partly sympathetic to the author’s Christian assumptions will find the book an edifying and inspiring resource.