Today is the release day of B.D. Fleming’s new book, To the Glory of God: A Theology of Cigar Smoking. I was pleased to provide an endorsement:
“Read To the Glory of God the way you would smoke a fine cigar: Settle into a comfortable chair, light the flame, and savor every draw. Take your time with it. And when you’re done, thank God (and B.D. Fleming) for the gift of his creation. I can’t think of a more pleasant way to spend an evening!”
What follows is my full review.
I don’t smoke many cigars (me, I’m a pipe guy), so I was grateful for the excuse to head down to the local brick-and-mortar and pick out an excellent cigar. (With a little help from the proprietor, of course.) I’d just received an advance copy of To the Glory of God: A Theology of Cigar Smoking by B.D. Fleming, and a book like that deserves to be read while smoking a stogie.
The title is, of course, taken from the popular quote by Charles Spurgeon: “I intend to smoke a good cigar to the glory of God before I go to bed tonight.”
Fleming does a more-than-capable job of tackling a thesis that may seem odd (or downright offensive) to many Christians but is, for me, squarely in the center of the sort of Christianity I aspire to — a Christianity that finds deep pleasure in the world God created. (Joe Rigney introduced me to this type of faith in his masterful book, The Things of Earth.)
PART ONE explores some of the theology related to cigars, writing in turn about “creation, liberty, slowness, fellowship, and the aroma of worship.”
In chapter one, Fleming addresses the goodness of the tobacco leaf and the proper response to its use: gratitude and moderation. “Gratitude isn’t just for sunsets and Psalms. It’s also for smoke and soil,” he writes. He ties cigar smoking to the generosity of God, pointing out that, while cigars aren’t necessary, “neither is steak. Or bourbon. Or Bach. Yet we thank God for them all. Why? Because each one, in its own way, declares that God is not a miser. He is not stingy. He is not threatened by beauty or aroma or delight. He is the God of gardens, vineyards, spices, and smoke.”
Chapter two explores the similarities between sound theology and smoking cigars: One mustn’t rush through either of them. Both require stillness, thought, patient contemplation, and time. Rush through either one, and you’ll find yourself burned (either by scorching the wrapper or by falling into heterodoxy — or outright heresy). “Heretical doctrine, like cheap smoke, stings the eyes and chokes the lungs,” he writes. “Don’t rush to conclusions.”
Chapter three ties cigar smoke to the incense offered to God in Old Testament rituals (Exodus 30:1, 7–8), to the prayers of the faithful (Psalm 141:2, Revelation 8:3–4), to the aroma of those in Christ (2 Corinthians 2:14–16) and to the “fragrant offering and sacrifice” of Jesus on the cross (Ephesians 5:2). He explains, “This is what I mean by calling the cigar a ‘sacred echo.’ It resonates with biblical themes without replacing biblical truths. It points toward gospel realities without becoming a substitute for gospel faith. ”
In chapter four, Fleming explores the ways that smoking with other men encourages and facilitates Christian brotherhood: “There is something almost sacramental in the ritual of lighting cigars together. The careful cut, the toasting of the foot, and the first draw. It’s like a natural liturgy that shapes the rhythm of fellowship.” The ember circle is the band of brothers, where iron sharpens iron (Proverbs 27:17) and the bonds of friendship are forged.
And chapter five unpacks the Christian liberty to either smoke or not smoke, insisting that cigars are not for everyone and acknowledging that there are good and holy reasons to abstain from tobacco use: “Christ is the Lord of both the eater and the abstainer, the smoker and the non-smoker,” he writes.
PART TWO provides brief profiles of Christians who have enjoyed smoking cigars and pipes, writing that “theological truths are most easily seen when they are lived in shoe leather and pipe smoke.” These chapters include:
Charles Spurgeon
Herman Hoeksema
C.S. Lewis
J.R.R. Tolkien
G.K. Chesterton
Each chapter in this section also provides theological reflections from Fleming and practical lessons we can learn from these “smoking saints of the Church” — not just who they were, but what their examples mean for us today.
PART THREE is devoted to more theology, as Fleming pairs particular cigars with certain theological positions. Chapters include:
Maduros and Postmillennialism (strong, dark, and hopeful)
Connecticut and the Clean Creedalist (smooth, mild, and full of conviction)
The Barber Pole and the Beautiful Paradox (two wrappers, one smoke)
Nicaraguan and the Neo-Kuyperian (earthy, missional, and rooted)
Robusto vs. Churchill: Ring Gauge Eschatology (“Are you in a hurry, or are you here for the long haul?”)
IN HIS CONCLUSION, Fleming reiterates his central thesis:
“A theology of smoking is ultimately a theology of gratitude and godliness. Not gratitude as a feeling, but gratitude as a posture. The settled, daily, deliberate recognition that everything you have, including the cigar in your hand, came from a God who did not have to give it. But He is not stingy. Nor is He threatened by beauty, pleasure, or the slow, earthy enjoyment of the world He made.
“That God deserves worship. And worship, rightly understood, is not confined to Sunday mornings. It spills out into every corner of a man’s life. Into his work and his rest. Into his marriage and his friendships. Into the way he leads and the way he follows. Into the books he reads and the conversations he has, and the smoke that rises from his porch on a quiet evening.”
Fleming’s book is a pleasure to read, and it strikes just the right tone of both reverence and delight — it’s somehow both a serious take on a lighthearted pleasure and a lighthearted take on a serious pleasure. In the end, the point of this little volume is decidedly not to glorify the cigar but to glorify God.
If I must raise any complaints about the book, there are two: One, it’s too short. I know, I know: this isn’t really a complaint. But I could spend much more time in Fleming’s volume, and I would’ve loved to see him push his thesis even further. And two, I suspect from some of the style and sentence construction that he used AI while writing the book. Believe me, I understand why writers might do this, but I have personal and professional reasons for not doing so myself. (To be clear, I haven’t asked Fleming or confirmed whether this is true — it’s just that certain sentences raised my AI detection hackles.)
In summary, I closed the book with a better appreciation of cigars, sure, but much more than that: I closed the book with a better appreciation for the goodness of the world God created and gifted to us, and with gratitude for the Christian liberty that allows us the freedom to enjoy it.
I commend To the Glory of God to every Christian sinner and saint who smokes cigars and pipes to, well, to the glory of God. As Fleming writes, “enjoy (without guilt or excess) what God has given. And always, ALWAYS, to His glory.” You can (and should!) enjoy this book in exactly the same way.
Cigar in hand while writing this review: My Father The Judge Grand Robusto
Postscript: I was thrilled when Fleming asked if he could include my “Liturgy for the Smoking of Fine Tobacco” in his volume. I pray that it blesses you as you smoke your next cigar (or pipe)!
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Thank you for the very fine review, Josh. Even in your review of a book, I'm impressed by your writing prowess. And, I'm glad you picked up a stick and enjoyed it while reading. But, your pipe will do just fine too. ;)