Righting America

An Interview with Herbie Miller

by William Trollinger

Herbie Miller is Senior Pastor of the Palmetto Presbyterian Church in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina. He holds a Ph.D. from the University of Dayton. This book on the 1837 debate between Bishop John Purcell and Alexander Campbell is an outgrowth of his doctoral dissertation.

1. You begin your book, in your “Acknowledgments,” with this arresting statement: “The ideas in this book have been in my head . . . for twenty years. From first hearing about the Purcell-Campbell debate in seminary, to writing a paper on it in my first semester of graduate school, to eventually centering my dissertation on its most inspiring aspects, I have been captivated by this event.” What has captivated you about this event? Why does it matter to you?

Two aspects of the debate have always interested me.

First, I was drawn to the idea that two men could sustain a civil dialogue in a very uncivil time. Purcell and Campbell were not longing for some imagined golden age of religious harmony. They were living in the 1830s, with its complexity around social norms, class, race, religion, and more. There were plenty of incentives for both men to rile up their respective bases with inflammatory rhetoric, and they chose to restrain themselves from that “low-hanging fruit.” That civility, and what I would later discover to be a real friendship, pulled me into the story.

Second, I think there’s something noble about public debate with agreed-upon rules. In that day, as in ours, public disagreement was not in short supply. But Purcell and Campbell showed a kind of courage. They were willing to state their beliefs publicly, in the presence of someone who absolutely disagreed with them, and allow those beliefs to be interrogated. To be sure, some of that was strategic. They hoped to win converts and bolster their reputations. But beneath that was a shared conviction that public discourse done well could strengthen society. That inspired me twenty years ago, and it has stayed with me.

2. Throughout this book you make great use of a concept developed by urban sociologist Ray Oldenburg, the “third space,” to the point that you devote the second third of the book to “The Debate as a Third Space.” Can you explain this concept, and how you make use of it in your book, and how it helps us understand the debate and its significance?

The funny thing is, the first time I encountered the idea of the “third space” wasn’t in a doctoral seminar, but while working at Starbucks during seminary. The Starbucks training manuals described the “third space” in a way that was essentially faithful to Ray Oldenburg’s idea: a social space that is neither home (first space) nor work (second space), but somewhere you enjoy being. Starbucks leveraged that idea to train employees to create enjoyable environments so customers would want to linger.

The “third space” has its roots in the Greek agora, and Oldenburg traces the concept through American history—in spaces like coffee shops, pubs, public parks, and so on. Third spaces are essential for healthy democracies because they expose people to different ideas and people they may not otherwise meet—sometimes from different races, classes, religions. 

In the book I argue that the Purcell–Campbell debate was a third space in two senses.

First, in the literal Oldenburg sense: for a week, the church in Cincinnati became a space where Catholics and Protestants gathered to engage a live debate on Roman Catholicism. One side defended it; the other attacked it. That alone made it a rare kind of public space.

Second, I argue that the printed transcript of the debate, which was later published, created a kind of literary third space. Purcell and Campbell wanted their words preserved so that later readers could “enter” the debate imaginatively—almost as if they were present in 1837.

Seeing the debate as a third space shifts our attention from ideas alone to the debate as an event—as a speech act situated in a particular context. And when we see it that way, we begin to understand how significant this debate was for American religious history, even though it has not received sustained attention from historians of American religion.

3. In your conclusion you talk about how you have “described the debate as a site of boundary crossing and productive friction the conditions for a new experience of the religious Other.” What do you mean by this, and how does this help us understand the debate?

One of the things that still strikes me is that this oral debate happened at all. Think about it: in the dead of winter, Purcell and Campbell devoted an entire week to a public oral debate in Cincinnati. Campbell traveled from Bethany, (West) Virginia. They easily could have debated in print through their journals and avoided the trouble and exposure of a public event. The fact that they chose to meet in person is significant.

The debate took place in a Baptist meeting house, a short distance from the Catholic Cathedral. Purcell, as a bishop, was crossing cultural and religious boundaries simply by spending time in a Protestant church. Campbell was crossing geographical and cultural boundaries as well. He represented a nascent restorationist movement within Protestantism—the Disciples of Christ—which was already creating tension with established denominations. Yet in the debate he positioned himself as a defender of Protestantism as a whole, not merely his own movement.

During the debate, their ideas clashed, and according to news reports, the audience engaged in lively discussion as well. The room became a space where Catholics and Protestants could hear the “other side” from reputable sources and argue about it afterward. In that sense, the debate became a site of boundary crossing—religious, cultural, and social—and the productive friction was the challenge of hearing and being confronted by another’s convictions.

4. Related, why the subtitle: “The World is Large Enough for Us All” (a terrific subtitle which also happens to be the title of your conclusion)? 

I actually wanted The World is Large Enough for Us All to be the main title, but my publisher rightly noted that the book needed the key terms in the title for searchability. So the subtitle was our compromise, and I’m glad it’s there.

The line comes from Purcell’s final speech on the last day of the debate. It reflects his conviction that he and Campbell, and their respective communities, could flourish together in the United States. Purcell and Campbell remained friends for the rest of their lives, and I think this statement captures his irenic spirit at a time when Catholicism was viewed with deep suspicion by many Protestants.

While Campbell didn’t share Purcell’s poetic style, I believe he shared the sentiment. Both men were “Americanists” in the sense that they believed their communities could fully inhabit the American experiment. Purcell was essentially endorsing a voluntary religious framework in which different traditions could coexist and serve the common good.

Fittingly, the men had met a year before the debate at a conference on education in the Ohio Valley. Both cared deeply about forming citizens in the new nation. That shared concern reminds us that the subtitle was not a flourish, but reflected a genuine hope.

5. Given that you are senior pastor at Palmetto Presbyterian Church in Mount Pleasant (SC) it is obvious that this book is not just an “academic exercise” (whatever that means). Are you able to apply what you have learned from the Purcell-Campbell debate to your work as a pastor?  And are you hopeful about the possibilities for civil interreligious dialogue in 2025 America? 

Absolutely. And I would actually say the applications extend beyond pastoral work into any domain where you engage with people who see the world differently.

The two key takeaways for me are boundary crossing and productive friction. Boundary crossing sounds like something you’d be told not to do in an ethics workshop, but it simply means becoming aware of your own assumptions and then attempting, even temporarily, to inhabit someone else’s. When you’re discerning a major policy change in a church or organization, that discipline can be the difference between stalemate and compromise.

Productive friction has been a learned practice for me. By disposition, I dislike conflict. But over time I’ve come to see disagreement as an opportunity for growth rather than something to avoid. In teams I lead, I work to help people see friction as constructive rather than threatening.

As for the future of civil interreligious engagement, yes, I’m hopeful. I participate in a clergy council in my area, and I work with the National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership to promote constructive Jewish–Christian relations. I don’t have a formula beyond getting to know people, finding common interests, and sharing meals. Sometimes the common interest is a social concern; sometimes it’s simply friendship.

Purcell and Campbell still have something to teach us: own your convictions, share them openly with those who disagree, allow your views to be critiqued, model dignity and respect, and do your best to live at peace—and occasionally make new friends in the process.