It's the Deity, Dude

GOD ON THE QUAD

How Religious Colleges and the Missionary Generation Are Changing America

By Naomi Schaefer Riley

St. Martin's. 274 pp. $24.95

SOUL SEARCHING

The Religious and Spiritual Lives of American Teenagers

By Christian Smith with Melinda Lundquist Denton

Oxford. 346 pp. $25

Any parent with a conscience who is raising a teenager will read these two books and immediately fall to her knees at the altar before God, Yahweh, Jesus, Muhammad -- nearly any recognizable deity will do -- and hope her children follow suit. Neither of these is remotely a parenting book, but the evidence they compile about American teenagers is pretty stark. Kids who describe themselves as religious are less likely to cut classes, do drugs, have sex, get depressed, feel alone or misunderstood, talk back to their parents, lie. Practically the only thing they score higher on is feeling guilty if they fail to do the right thing. Apparently it doesn't just take a village; it takes a congregation.

Those findings are from Soul Searching, the final report of the National Study of Youth and Religion. Christian Smith, a widely respected sociologist at the University of North Carolina, conducted the study as the first comprehensive survey of the spiritual life of American teenagers. Occasionally Smith and his fellow researchers arranged in-depth interviews with some of the subjects, using pseudonyms. "Joy's" view of religion is: "People believe what they want to believe and if they get something out of that, then that's what they should believe." Joy drinks and does drugs, but her parents don't know because "my parents don't know me that well." She has a 23-year-old boyfriend and a best friend who tried to kill himself. In contrast, "Kristen," as a young child, found her father's body after he'd shot himself; but then her mother taught her that God is "father to the fatherless," and at 16 she still deeply believes it. She's never tried drugs or alcohol; she's active in her church youth group. Sometimes she thinks she might keep a secret from her mom, "but then it all comes out." As for her friends who experiment and see R-rated movies, "They're the ones missing out," she says. Now, which child would you rather raise?

Skip Kristen forward three years and you have the characters that populate God on the Quad , a survey of the nation's 700 religious colleges with a focus on the most devout ones. Naomi Schaefer Riley opens her book with a pair of preconceptions: Secular schools are havens for goofy vegetarians and transgendered politics; floating above this mess is what she calls the "missionary generation," the 1.3 million graduates of religious colleges who reject sex outside marriage, drugs, homosexual relationships, a "spiritually empty education" and the "sophisticated ennui of their contemporaries." So it's no surprise that her survey goes on to find just that: smart, ambitious, God-fearing coeds. They are slightly defensive about the fact that, say, Bob Jones University had a longtime ban on interracial marriage or that the students at Brigham Young University still follow restrictive Mormon dating rituals. But they are basically happy and confident and, most important, they seem totally normal, the kind of graduates any employer would be proud to hire.

The premise of the book is that religious colleges are trying a grand experiment: They don't want to send their graduates out into the Christian ghetto; more than ever, they want to "give their students . . . the tools to succeed in the secular world and the strength to do so without compromising their faith." They want to produce students who can compete with Ivy Leaguers for consulting jobs at McKinsey and, when they get there, ace the in-house ethics exam. Riley assumes these young people will thrive, but the best parts of the book are those in which she examines the many tensions inherent in the marriage of a fundamentalist faith and a broad intellect.