Christianity

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What would Jesus cut?

For a year I’ve worn this yellow bracelet on my right wrist, a bracelet sent to every member of Congress by Sojourners, a Christian advocacy group. It says “What would Jesus cut?”

I sincerely doubt that Sojourners has a complete list of programs endorsed by Jesus, because they are smarter than that. Rather the bracelet is a reminder that people in power are accountable for the decisions they make, not just to the voters but to their conscience and their God.

Jesus, himself,  was pretty cagey about politics. He dodged every effort to make him a king, he refused to align himself with the religious or political establishment, and, confronted with the dilemma of paying or refusing to pay taxes to the Roman government, he said,

Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.       (Mt 22:21)

I love that about Jesus: he refused to be manipulated for political gain. He did not covet power, and he spoke truth to power.  And that is what he expected of his followers.

So when I read the words, “What would Jesus cut?” I think of Jesus or God or your conscience standing by your shoulder to keep you from coveting influence or sucking up to power.  Pardon the coarse expression, but certain behavior is best described coarsely.

In my case, this admonition often means don’t join others who put down popular scapegoats, such as school administrators, apathetic  students, or Tea Party Republicans. They are easy targets, yet many of them try to heed their conscience against all odds.  I’ll admit to giving in to political diatribe now and then, but I believe that Jesus expects better of me.

In the case of Washington’s elite, it means don’t vote against your conscience just because the power brokers tell you to, whether they be Mitch McConnell or Harry Reid, John Boehner or Nancy Pelosi.  No one can presume to judge another’s conscience, but I think it is safe to say that we would not have gridlock in the Congress if everyone were voting his or her conscience.  Conscience is not that well-organized.

Imagine Jesus on the floor of Congress. Jesus, what about abortion? What about amnesty for illegals? What about trimming Medicare? What about reducing defense spending?  I don’t see Jesus asking how the party is voting or whether he will lose votes in the next election.  I don’t see him bargaining his vote to get on a committee he favors. I don’t see him intimidated by political heavyweights. And he expects the same of those who follow him.

If Jesus is not your exemplar, then your political conscience should speak to you.  Your conscience should have a voice at every vote, at every caucus, at every back room conversation where political bribes are offered.  You should not leap to compromise, if it involves your personal gain.

The politicos are shaking their heads and calling me naive, but plenty of Congressional icons have taken the high road through their careers. I’m not sure who voted their conscience in the recent vote on the nomination of Chuck Hagel for Secretary of Defense, but I know of four Senators who voted against their personal interests: Thad Cochran (Missisippi), Susan Collins (Maine), Mike Johanns (Nebraska) and Lisa Murkowski (Alaska).  It’s a safe bet that these Senators will not be rewarded for voting against their party .

I smile when I see representatives crossing party lines to vote or standing strong on an issue they believe in, regardless of lobbyists or Congressional Whips. John McCain stood up for amnesty for undocumented residents. Chuck Hagel opposed the war in Iraq.  Kathleen Sibelius spoke out for women’s reproductive rights at the risk of excommunication from Church and Party.

I would be proud to be represented by such legislators and cabinet secretaries.  While I might disagree with them on other issues, I would respect their courage to vote their convictions and to buck the political tide. Party loyalty is very low on my hierarchy of values.  Jesus did not adhere to the tattered coalitions of power.

Jesus was not a Zealot nor an apologist for Rome. He visited with Pharisees and with tax collectors. He touched lepers and healed a Roman Centurion’s daughter.  He was almost murdered in his home village, and he was executed in Jerusalem, once holy, today a political pie. No one was less wedded to political power than Jesus.

And he expects the same of those who follow him.

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Reconciliation and Recalcitrance

Settle matters quickly with your adversary who is taking you to court. Do it while you are still with him on the way or he may hand you over to the judge, and the judge may hand you over to the officer and you may be thrown into prison. (Matt 5:25)

The recent primary victory of Indiana Senate candidate Richard Mourdock underlined the theme of “principled” leadership, a recognizable message of the Tea Party movement (New York Times, May 9, 2012).  While “principles” are sorely needed in federal politics, they are frequently a code word for recalcitrance and irresponsibility. Sometimes we refer to those who act from inflexible principles as “radicals” or “terrorists.”

I remember the 1970’s as defined by principles. You either favored peace or war, love or hate, freedom or repression. “Radical” was often used positively, as someone who wanted to change what was wrong with society. We acted on principles by marching, sitting in, or impeding traffic.  And we often had positive outcomes: the end of the Vietnam War, Civil Rights legislation, the exposure of Watergate.

But the radicals of the 1970’s were assimilated into government, institutions of social reform, even into churches.  They realized that they could change institutions from within and by negotiation, instead of by naked resistance. “Reformer” became the preferred term for “radical.”

The Tea Party represents contemporary radicalism, along with the “Occupy” movement. The difference is that the Tea Party wants to radicalize from within. They assume they can jam the cogs of government by their intractability.  They operate on pledges and vows that make their representatives pawns of their principles.  This is probably not what the Founders had in mind for a government of checks and balances. It is probably not what Jesus had in mind when he exhorted his followers to honor the principles of the law.

The fifth chapter of Matthew, the Beatitudes,  is all about reconciliation with enemies, reconciliation with spiritual brothers and sisters, reconciliation with the adversary taking you to court. The whole notion of “settling out of court,” which is advocated by Matthew 5:25, should be of particular interest to those who think our society is too litigious.

But Jesus was not merely concerned with short-circuiting the justice system, he was interested in reconciliation, bringing foes together, dissolving feuds.  And it is in this teaching that he undermines radicalism as we know it. He wants parties to be reconciled and to work together. He wants compromise and forgiveness.

I don’t like Christians who challenge my morality on the basis of partial reading of scripture, so I don’t wish to force my reading on others. But I see the Beatitudes as a central message of the Gospels, and the theme of reconciliation as the essence of Jesus’ teaching, and I think radicals ought to consider it, along with the notion of principle.  “Principle” can be suffocating and polarizing to mutual destruction.

The “judge” in Matthew 5:25 could be the Judge of all. The Gospels are suffused with stories of unforgiving masters and ruthless judges, whom God will not forgive.  Radicalism, while admirable in those who sacrifice their livelihood for their beliefs, can also destroy those who are trying to lead and mediate. A “principled”  stand can be alienating and deadly.

So judge carefully whether what you call “principle” is merely “recalcitrance” and ruthless opposition.

 

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Religious Warfare

When I hear Rick Santorum invoking the political rights of people of faith, I hear religious warfare.  It is calculated to bring the evangelical right into his voting column and to alienate the more ecumenical believers of all religions.  And it attacks public education from kindergarten through college, because of its tolerance for all beliefs, whether they include worship of God or not.

This pandering has nothing to do with the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  Jesus’s teachings can not be construed as merging political life with religious life.  He is often quoted, referring  to paying taxes, “Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and unto God the things that are God’s.”  This statement alone seems to advocate the separation of church and state.

But there are other passages from the Gospels that show that Jesus was not an advocate of “religious warfare,” and these most deeply affect those who wish to follow his example.  Central to my religious education was the warning,

Do not judge or you, too will be judged. For in the same way as you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you (Matthew 7:1)

Raised as an evangelical, I constantly felt challenged by these words, because we were also taught we had been chosen for the Kingdom of God by our faith. How you do avoid judging those who were not chosen? It seemed like an impossible command to me. And this is where public schooling became crucial in my life.  In the first eight years of my schooling I was a minority group among Jewish classmates, and I struggled to view them as equals, when my church was teaching me they were excluded from the kingdom. Every day I had to face my judgment,  knowing that this was not what Jesus intended.

Finally I read ahead in the seventh chapter of Matthew, which is full of warnings against judging others. Jesus warns his disciples,

Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves. By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? Likewise every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus, by their fruits you will recognize them (Matthew 7:15-20)

Jesus spent a lot of words attacking the religious establishment of his day, arguing that they had a semblance of religion, but they had turned their backs on the most needy of their society: the poor, the prostitutes, the lepers. This teaching from Matthew suggests that even those posing as prophets might misrepresent God, and we should look to their fruits, the result of their work, as the crucial evidence of their intentions.  At the same time, we should respect those who produce the “good fruit,” because it could only come from a good tree.

To me this solved the problem of judging those of other faiths. I didn’t have to judge their theology, only the fruits of their labor. In fact, I should be wary of Christians who produced bad fruit because,

Not everyone who says to me ‘Lord, Lord’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven (Matthew 7:21)

In this shocking passage, Jesus suggests that even pious church-goers might not be accepted into the Kingdom of God. The words we speak do not qualify us for the Kingdom, but the fruits of our labor.  This seems to turn the claims of some evangelicals upside down.  We should not be judged by our religious badges, but by the effects of our religious labor.

I came by these ideas slowly, even though they seem obvious to me now.  I have to credit my educational environment for bringing me there: public schools, secular colleges, and parents whose narrowness was always ready to include more people.  My mother said to me yesterday, “I expect to see my Jewish friends in heaven.” You would have to know my mother’s faith to realize what an enormous leap that was at the end of her life. But she was the one who kept me in public schools and supported my choice of a secular college.

I have nothing against private, religious or home schooling. Parents often choose these for the best motives. For me, however, the choice of public schooling and later, a secular college, were crucial to learning my place in the world. Without the questions, even the challenges to my faith, I would be more sanctimonious than I grew up to be. I would would be pitted against everyone who did not conform to my hermetically-sealed notion of the Gospel and my shrink-wrapped image of Jesus.  I would rather not be that person, and I owe it to public schooling that I am otherwise today.

Jesus was no politician. He did not play favorites, and he did not enjoy labeling people. Rather he enjoyed annihilating the categories of “unclean” and “Gentile” and “Roman” and accepted all who came to him. That is the spirit we should capture in public discourse, not the discourse of exclusion.

As Rick Santorum stokes the religious fires of the political campaign, I am looking for the fruits of his message. Does it bring more hate-language about Islam or other non-Christian faiths?  Does it attack tolerance as insidious “liberal teaching”?  Does it incite the most inflammatory voices of the campaign?  This kind of religious warfare should not drive our most important election.

This talk about breaking down the walls between church and state has  the potential to kindle religious warfare, and it should be condemned by God-fearing people.   And the supercilious dismissal of public schools and higher education should be noted as an oblique attack on the tolerance of diversity and the critical thinking that most of us owe to those formative institutions.