The Colbert Report always makes me laugh uproariously, but a recent segment made my heart sing as well. Its title was “Jesus was a Liberal Democrat,” and it made me happy for a number of reasons. First, of course, it’s hilarious. Secondly, though, it makes an argument that as both a religious and a political liberal I am all too happy to hear. It is Stephen Colbert–a person universally known and, among my generation in particular, almost universally esteemed and, yes, respected–calling out those who profess to be Christians yet espouse policies that further neglect or oppress those in the lowest income brackets. Beneath (and also because of) its satirical aim, this is a powerful argumentative blow to some on the religious and/or political Right. Many politicians take seriously–or loudly profess to take seriously–the question of WWJD: What Would Jesus Do? I and some of my fellow frustrated religious liberals have been tempted to answer that, for one thing, the prince of peace who commanded that people love their enemies would not start a military offensive; that this meek and merciful transcender of national boundaries would not be quick to be “patriotic”; and that he who, in all that he is said to have spoken, spoke most about the dignity, the “blessedness,” of the poor, would have advocated–for starters–feeding them.
This got me thinking–because at my divinity school finals have not yet ended and I am still in the mode of over-thinking–about the theological uprightness of this kind of argument. Colbert proclaims, in-character as conservative pundit, that liberal congressman Jim McDermott “used the baby Jesus to push his pro-poor people agenda!” The scary thing is, I can imagine some saying this in seriousness. And, recalling how frustrated I myself become when I hear a religious figure used to push a genuinely dubious agenda by those on the end of the political spectrum opposite to mine, I start to wonder if there really is something perilous about all religious talk in the political arena.
When I hear religious figures or scriptures used to justify something which I find repellent, it bothers me for two, quite different, reasons. The first reason is that the argument usually does seem flimsy even in terms of the foundation it claims to be standing on, which is the New Testament. For instance, Colbert attacks Bill O’Reilly’s counterargument to McDermott by pointing out that “God helps those who helps themselves”–a line tacitly attributed to Jesus by O’Reilly–is not Biblical at all, and that Jesus is nowhere written about as a “help only those who deserve it” kind of guy. Similarly, the sweep of the New Testament narrative seems really to have a pro-peace, pro-love, “pro-poor people agenda”… the Biblical Jesus really is “always flapping his gums about the poor.” Thus, it seems to me that to miss Jesus’ concern for the poor is to miss something crucial. Liberation theologians seem to make a similar argument about Jesus as a an anti-oppression figure: This may be a world in which there is a plurality of Christologies, but to have a Christology of oppression is effectively to have missed the boat. At a certain point, we can say–this radical line of thinking goes–that one has a Christology without Christ. To be a self-proclaimed Christian and also an oppressor is theologically dishonest. Can we perhaps say the same thing about the Christian who looks callously on those living in poverty?
You can doubtlessly guess my own answer to that. Yet, the second part of being theologically honest has to do with maintaining the germ of agnosticism with regard to our own interpretations. This seems important especially where sacred texts are concerned, as the multiple interpretations possible are part of what is integral–and, potentially, life-sustaining–about them. Religious liberals like myself always decry the perils of reading scripture literally. As we very well know, there is always another interpretation, often a quite poetic, allegorical, or even koan-like one. Such an allegorical interpretation can even be found in such seemingly basic Christian tenets as Jesus’ declaration, “blessed are the poor” (see Meister Eckhart’s… a truly remarkable work and one of my favorite pieces of religious writing ever). Thus, if we want to make the argument that Jesus was indeed “a Socialist deity redistributing the loaves and fishes,” however scriptural we may find it we must still bear in mind that some day soon the shoe will be on the other foot, and we’ll be gritting our teeth upon hearing that “Jesus was a Tea Partier.” Such are the perils of identifying a particular religious complex with a particular political party: if religious language is co-opted by one political wing, it can be co-opted by the opposite wing as well. At a certain point, to identify almost any great spiritual leader with one specific political group is absurd. I am as tempted to laugh on hearing that “The Buddha was a Democrat” as at “The Buddha was a Republican.” At a certain point, the relative convincingness of each group’s argument is immaterial, because the move itself is dubious.
So where do we go on this? On the one hand, perhaps we could do with more wariness on everybody’s part–whatever one’s religious or political leanings–of identifying religion and politics too closely, of being too quick to read scripture literally, and of brushing aside the dimension of mystery inherent in all great religious traditions, which resists being pinned down by concrete declarations. On the other hand, if those of us to the left on the religious spectrum can make arguments that refute harmful statements claiming scriptural justification on their own terms, perhaps we can at last challenge the too-prevalent belief that religion is exclusively the property of those on the Right, and take a stance in discourse… even so much as to affirm, with Colbert, the radical statement that if conservatives cannot stomach Jesus’ “agenda” of compassion to those who are struggling, they might want to “replace him with something easier to swallow–how about a honey-baked ham?”
I love this article, because it eloquently expresses the precise problem I find in deriving moral values from scriptural interpretation – as I’ve harped on in other replies to other posts!
This is particularly well said: “if religious language is co-opted by one political wing, it can be co-opted by the opposite wing as well.”
Indeed.
The only fault I find here is with the solutions offered. It seems to me there is an obvious “third alternative”: ditch scripture as a guide to moral action altogether, and rely on publicly available evidence about what promotes flourishing and what causes suffering instead.
Celie–great post in general! I too had an enormous cathartic laugh whilst watching that Colbert clip. I don’t know how many times I shouted, “YES!”.
And James–smart stuff, as always. I wonder if you could clarify your “third alternative” a little further for me. In essence, I agree with your sentiment that scriptural interpretations should not be a guiding force in the nation’s political parsing of what is “moral” or not. However, there’s something about your use of “altogether” that seems a bit unrealistic. I use “unrealistic” and not “harsh” because I want to make the delineation that, as a person who does find radical moral guidance through scripture, I don’t take offense to your call to chop it.
Rather, the problem with the “altogether” alternative as I understand it here is that for those who do find moral guidance through scripture as something life-defining, the removal of that lens will not only be difficult, but possibly self-destructive. But, I admit that I may be misunderstanding your suggestion (thus the call for clarification!). I think that it is entirely possible for individuals to practice their ideas of morality personally, but also work within a broader moral structure politically. I think that what Celie is offering here (and correct me on this!) is that scripture can’t be some magic touchstone that any side can co-opt for their own proof. So yes, leave that aspect out, as it misuses scripture’s purpose in the first place.
So, we should be teaching awareness of the various communication circles within which each member of a society works. I speak with my family in a subset of language and inside jokes that would not be understood here. As is such with close friends, colleagues, my spouse, etc. Political rhetoric is its own linguistic subset, and the problem is that people on every side have broken those boundaries and started using language from their own personal spheres. This seems to me to be the disconnect. Would love your further thoughts on this.
Hi James and Bryan,
Thank you both for your comments. James, I think you pinpoint that age-old uneasiness (which I share) about religion’s coming to play too much of a directive role in general political discourse, to the point of leading to a dangerous religion-politics union. I certainly hope scripture never becomes a widely acceptable basis for state leaders to justify policies upon. The thing is that I agree with Bryan that hoping for a distancing of religion and politics from every person might be an unrealistic hope. It seems to me that a certain set of people is always going to take seriously a scriptural basis for action, and I wonder whether, if one set of such claims are potentially harmful, those on the Religious Left who speak from the same tradition/scriptures have a responsibility to enter that scriptural milieu–maybe not at the forefront of the political discourse, which will hopefully be more devoid of religious talk, but in the religious discourse that always simmers somewhere in the background . I wonder if the risk is worth it, if only for the purpose of battling on such conservative Bible-thumpers’ home turf and affecting a “hoist by your own petard” moment. But that could be a completely dubious move, for sure.
WWJD? He’d be enfleshed God set on sacrificing himself for the life of the world and perhaps not too interested in running for office. He also might not be too quick to equate “compassion for the poor” with support of an ever expanding federal government. I think it short-sighted, naive, and a bit self-righteous to grant a particular side of the political aisle a monopoly on compassion. Given big government’s lack of success in the “war on poverty” some have argued not unconvincingly that continued support of liberal democratic policies shows anything but compassion for the poor.
And… Bill O’Reilly makes my skin crawl.
Hi Ben,
You are absolutely right re: Jesus’ being “probably not interested in running for office”; that was why I noted the absurdity of identifying great spiritual leaders with any political party affiliation. I apologize for my clumsy language at the end of this post, which seems to equate compassion with only one side of the political aisle (not my intention, although doubtlessly my own observations of things happening in my area around poverty issues, and the relationship of different local parties to certain pieces of legislation, necessarily colors my perception in spite of myself). Rather, I wrote this post in response to my sense of certain voices who command public attention on the far Right (both religious Right and political Right) announcing support for a particular answer to an issue—an answer advanced in the form of political legislation—based on a particular religious imperative, in a way that seems to say that there is only one perspective a religious person could, in good faith, hold on that issue. For instance, O’Reilly’s opening of, “As a Christian, I know that….”
It may be my error to perceive such talk as coming more from figures self-identifying with the Right than with the Left; that is how it appears from my standpoint, but that is just what it is: a single standpoint.
In any case, my driving question behind writing this post related to those issues that are necessarily both religious issues AND political issues, eg: how to respond to poverty (something with which, I have to imagine, Jesus would have been very much concerned). My question is, if the atmosphere becomes one in which one set of voices is asserting, “As a Christian, I believe… (insert political/social position) … based on (insert perceived religious imperative),” should the response of others involved be to speak up, saying, “I, as another Christian, feel that (insert different political/social position) based on (insert different perceived religious imperative),” in order to have greater pluralism of views in the same discourse—in this case, greater pluralism of responses which self-identified Christians can and do advocate for based on different interpretations of their shared tradition? Or is it best to steer the discourse away from the waters of religious tradition altogether, if that’s possible? I genuinely wonder which is the better road… Although I see the latter answer seems to be preferred among SoFers 🙂
Thanks, Celie, for your thought-provoking post and response. I think, most of all, I’m troubled by the possibility you seem to suggest for the religious person to compartmentalize her faith. Unless we dishonestly intend to let antiseptic, “objective” political rhetoric serve as the public surrogate for private faith, I, “as a Christian(sic!)” see no way of steering “my discourse away from the waters of religious tradition” and would never suggest any Christian attempt something so dangerous. I am constituted by my religious tradition, my faith informs my every word and arranges the very furniture of my mind with which I think. It is not something I could choose to steer away from because it is not something I choose at all. For me, to steer away from the waters of my tradition would be to steer away from the waters of my baptism. Whether or not she prefaces her statements with “as a Christian, I…”, the Christian shouldn’t be too keen on doing or advocating things as something other than a Christian. In fact, those “not-as-a-Christian” things usually call for repentance.