The origins of our postsecular present, revealed in a vivid, groundbreaking account of the moment when popular culture became the site of religious conflict.

The 1980s are usually seen as a slick, shrill decade. The Ayatollah Khomeini and his followers urged "Death to America"; Ronald Reagan was in the White House, backed by the Moral Majority; John Paul II was asserting Catholic traditionalism and denouncing homosexuality, as were the televangelists on cable TV. And yet "crypto-religious" artists pushed back against the spirit of the age, venturing into vexed areas where politicians and clergy were loath to go—and anticipating the postsecular age we are living in today.

That is the story Paul Elie tells in this enthralling group portrait. Here's Leonard Cohen writing "Hallelujah" in a Times Square hotel room; Andy Warhol adapting Leonardo's The Last Supper in response to the AIDS crisis; Prince making the cross and altar into "signs of the times." Through Toni Morrison the spirits of the enslaved speak from the grave; Patti Smith and Bruce Springsteen deepen the tent-revival intensity of their work; U2, Morrissey, and Sinéad O'Connor give voice to the anguish of young people who were raised religious; Wim Wenders offers an angel's-eye view of Berlin. And Martin Scorsese overcomes fundamentalist opposition to make The Last Temptation of Christ—a struggle that anticipates Salman Rushdie's struggle with Islam in The Satanic Verses.

Much of that work drew controversy, and episodes such as the boycott sparked by Madonna's "Like a Prayer" video and the tearing up of Andres Serrano's Piss Christ in Congress were early skirmishes in the culture wars. But in this book's interlocking tales of the crypto-religious, the artists are the protagonists, and their work speaks to us because it deals with matters of the spirit that are too complex to be reduced to doctrines and headlines.

Stirring, immersive, The Last Supper traces the beginning of our age, in which religion is both surging and in decline. And it presents an outlook—open to belief but wary of it—that those artists and today's readers have in common.