D. L. Moody receives ambivalent treatment from conservative Christians. Some treat him with a reverence just short of hagiography for his work as an evangelist, placing him alongside Edwards and Whitefield as a keeper of the revivalist tradition. In that interpretation there is little critical examination of Moody’s message and methods. Others treat Moody more critically, even skeptically, and find fault with him for his sentimentalism and alleged ecumenism. In my experience at least, such critics tend to hold Moody to an anachronistic standard which they do not themselves keep.

The 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition, held in Chicago, provides an opportunity to test these two interpretations of Moody. Moody saw the world’s fair as an opportunity to evangelize the world when it came to Chicago, and he even attributed his survival of a 1891 storm at sea as God’s intervention to permit him to preach at the fair. He did not, however, consider the fair an unmixed blessing. Though his connections to the fair’s planners may have kept him from openly criticizing the fair, Moody opposed its secularism. His massive campaign in the summer of 1893 attempted not only to evangelize fairgoers but also to create a Christian environment apart from and in confrontation to the fair.[1]

In connection to the exposition, Moody faced three issues that might earn him praise or blame from conservative Christians: (1) keeping the fair open on Sunday, (2) the World’s Fair Parliament of Religions, and (3) engaging or confronting popular culture.

When Congress contributed money towards the world’s fair, it did so with the stipulation that the fair would be closed on Sundays. Some of the fair’s backers favored that restriction, others did not, and the question was taken to court. Moody opposed keeping the fair open on Sunday and made those views public, but he did not think that it was a major issue.

The World’s Fair Parliament of Religions was held at the same time as the Columbian Exposition but in Chicago itself, not at the fairgrounds. The parliament gathered together both Christian and non-Christian religions to allow them to present their views. Some evangelical Christians participated, but Moody refused to. He did not, however, preach against the parliament. He reportedly said, “Preach Christ, . . . hold up Christ, let the Parliament of Religions alone, preach Christ.”[2]

During the fair—indeed, during much of his ministry—Moody preached in locations normally given over to the vice he opposed. Among those places were the Haymarket theater, the Forepaugh Circus, and neighborhoods known for alcohol and prostitution. (Moody was invited to preach at the fairgrounds, but I do not know whether he did.) Moody’s evangelistic methods often adapted the techniques of business and popular culture to Christian ends, but in the case of his preaching venues Moody was doing something different. He was not adapting those secular places but taking them over, or reclaiming them, to the purpose of the gospel. He also seems to have had good sense in refusing offers by businessmen or entertainers that would have used Moody’s popularity for secular purposes.

Looking into the facts of Moody’s 1893 campaign, then, complicates both interpretations of Moody. Those who revere Moody might well disagree with certain of his actions. At least, as far as I can tell, not all his methods were compatible with current Fundamentalist views on separation, though I think in the main Moody would find favor in their eyes. (Whether it is valid to judge Moody by those views on separation is another question.) On the other hand, those who criticize Moody ought to find that he was not the ecumenist that they thought he was.

Moody, in short, faced the same problems that Christians have in every age: How can one effectively preach the gospel? How can one remain unspotted from the world? How much should one engage culture and use it in service to the gospel, and how much should one confront and rebuke culture? Those questions are complicated, and Moody’s answers were complicated too—neither free from censure nor undeserving of praise.

A parting observation on the Christian historian’s task: Interpreting Moody presents essentially the same problem as any historical question. The historian has both a professional and a Christian duty to evaluate his subject. As Christ commanded, he must “judge righteous judgment” (John 7:24). He must also remember the saying of our Lord: “Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again” (Matt. 7:1-2). Wisdom—and humility—lie in obeying both commands.


  1. Most of this discussion is taken from James Burkhart Gilbert, Perfect Cities: Chicago’s Utopias of 1893 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 169-207. ↩
  2. Gilbert, 186. ↩