Monday, Jul 7, 2008
Bush & Co. have hijacked Jesus, using him as the poster child for their callous worldview. It's time to rescue Christ from his kidnappers.
Oct 7, 2005 | Harriet Miers, should she be confirmed to the Supreme Court, will be the resident evangelical Christian. She shares her religious background with George W. Bush, whose claim to have chosen her based on "knowing her heart" has as much to do with the born-again faith he shares with her as with her long service in his inner circle. This choice might have left secular conservatives perplexed or downright dissatisfied, but is an obvious crowd-pleaser with the Christian right. Above all, it reflects the importance of Christianity for Bush, widely described as the most devout president in history.
But as we brace for more battles over abortion rights, gay marriage, stem cell research and so forth, it's time to ask just how Christian the supposedly pious Bush administration really is. Because what happened in New Orleans, and what has been happening in Iraq, raises serious questions about whether Bush & Co. deserve to be called Christian at all.
Natural disasters are often labeled "acts of God." Those who take the expression literally may think that God is punishing our sins (a belief shared by some Christians with those Muslims who think Katrina is Allah's reprisal), or they may struggle to reconcile the idea of an infinitely good God with the devastation he brings upon us. But you don't have to take the expression literally to feel that natural disasters call into question the meaning of life. They cut us down to size, and challenge us to rise up again. They make us mourn for the dead and reach out for the survivors. If we do believe in God, even just a little bit, they are a true test of our faith, and an opportunity to do what we preach: to give, to comfort, to assist.
Wars are acts of man, yet all too often are fought for a "holy" cause, painted as deeds of "infinite justice" or "crusades" of good vs. evil. But it's when we look at the victims that faith is truly tested. A religious person will have the chance to show all his horror, regret, compassion, forgiveness. In war, many parents will lose their children, a sacrifice so profound that it is more than a human being can be expected to bear; a sacrifice that is, in fact, made by God -- the Christian one -- and proof of godliness. (In one of the harshest and most controversial biblical tales, Abraham is ready to sacrifice his son before God, as he believes God asked him to do, but God stops him before he goes through with it. However one wants to interpret the tale -- whether it's about obedience or misunderstanding -- the point is, God doesn't actually want to impose on a parent the loss of a child.) To those who suffer such a loss, we have a chance -- and an obligation -- to offer utmost solidarity.
The administration's lethargic and callous response to the call after Hurricane Katrina, just like the president's coldheartedness toward Cindy Sheehan, suggests that the people who govern us are as willing to invoke Jesus as their guide, their inspiration, even their "favorite philosopher," as they are firmly unwilling to behave anything like Jesus.
"What would Jesus do?" has been a favorite slogan of the Christian right. It's a rhetorical question, meant to display lofty concerns and stake the high ground. It's not meant to be answered; in fact it's usually not even asked in relation to the things Jesus cared about.
It's time to put that question to better use.
Should a nation rush into an unprovoked war whose justification is weak at best, and fraudulent at worst? What would Jesus do?
A mother mourning the death of her son in that war asks for a chance to speak to the president about her grief, and to have her questions answered. What would Jesus do?
Thousands of men, women and children are left behind in the flood with no food, drinkable water or medical aid. What would Jesus do?
Would Jesus rush to war, or neglect to interrupt his vacation to meet the mother of a dead soldier, or abandon the people of a ravaged city? Would he promote tax breaks for the rich, undercut education, support the death penalty?
The answers are painfully easy. We know what Jesus would do, because he did do it, or talked about it in no uncertain terms. Jesus was for peace, for the poor, for the afflicted, for the children, and against the death penalty -- of which he was a victim. Anybody who denies this, or who argues that it's possible to be a good Christian without adhering to these basic positions, is basically betraying Christ.
We could ask some harder questions. Would Jesus really frown upon homosexuality? Would he seek to prolong life at all cost, even when in the form of a persistent vegetative state? Here many believe the answers are in the affirmative, or at least much more uncertain. But homosexuality existed in Jesus' times. And what Jesus had to say about it was, in one word, nothing. Unlike poverty, it just wasn't a concern. As far as pulling the plug, being a Christian means to believe that life doesn't end with the physical death of this body, on this earth. That's when a far better, everlasting life begins. (The one legitimately complex issue is abortion, and one can see a case for Jesus being generally against it; still, it is not something he directly spoke about.)
Get Salon in your mailbox!
