How will they know we are Christians?
Can Left-wing Christians be true to Christ’s teachings while they diss and dismiss Right-wing Christians? Becky Garrison went to New York during the Republican Convention to find out.
By Becky Garrison, MDIV/MSW
As Senior Contributing Editor for The Wittenburg Door for eleven years, I have become accustomed to the slings and arrows, as well as the occasional threatened lawsuit hurled by the Religious Right, whenever our satire magazine implies that their behavior was less than charitable, unchristian if you will. Since winning the 2004 election, the Religious Right’s aggressive tactics to ensure the advancement of their agenda at times have alienated those that claim to be Christians but are not card-carrying members of the Republican party. In The New York Times (July 16, 2004), the Rev. Jerry Fallwell was quoted as saying, “It is the responsibility of every political conservative, every evangelical Christian, every pro-life Catholic, every traditional Jew, every Reagan Democrat, and everyone in between to get serous about re-electing President Bush.”
Since the 2004 election, while considerable ink has been written about the need to heal the political divides within the United States, a substantial number of American mainline churches remain Blue or Red houses of worship. Many churches have become centers where like-minded individuals go to have their political convictions affirmed and their protest strategies fine-tuned rather than a gathering of faithful believers, who seek to live out the teachings of Christ by embracing the political stranger in their midst.
Before attacking the self-righteous speck in the Religious Right’s eye, should not the Left consider the plank in their own eye? In the Fall of 2003, I was attending a socially prominent albeit progressive mainline Episcopal church, when I found myself becoming increasingly troubled over the anti-war material I saw displayed at the church’s congregational resource table. Even though I had serious reservations about the war in Iraq, I was confused when the head of the congregation’s Episcopal Peace Fellowship chose to distribute pamphlets that engaged in vitriolic attacks against the Bush administration and were devoid of any spiritual substance especially when there are readily available resources put out by organizations like the National Council of Churches USA and Call to Renewal that address issues of peace and justice from a biblically based perspective.Even though the vestry told me they believed the congregation should pray for Bush and welcome him into their midst, when I posed the question, “Would you take communion with President Bush?” the collective answer I received from the congregation was a resounding “no.” So, I knew I had to find another spiritual home that rooted its ministry in the liberating words of the Gospel and not in a political platform without grounding in scripture.
This animosity towards Bush backers hit fever pitch during the Republican National Convention. During the ten days when the elephants stampeded to Madison Square Garden, I walked throughout the city with a color-coded RNC press pass dangling from my neck. For a week, I became as a fly on the wall, observing a wide spectrum of partisan events, happenings and get-togethers noting how the more progressive and hopefully more tolerant Christian community was responding to these strangers in their midst.
All throughout Manhattan select mainline churches in conjunction with the NO-RNC Clearinghouse, offered services and support for those people who flocked to the Big Apple to express their dissent and profound disagreement with the policies of the current administration. They publicized their willingness to coordinate activities ranging from healing and feeding stations, legal and voting information, to trainings, film screenings, live performances and speakers. Several mainline churches that were housing the activists went so far to display anti-Bush material that demonstrated an intense dislike of all things Republican. As the week progressed, I found myself questioning why any church that professed to follow the teachings of Christ would allow for such hateful material to be displayed.
When I approached these happenings and gatherings, the whiff of peyote, patchouli and perspiration permeating from the courtyards of these “spiritual” respite centers transported me back to my childhood days protesting against the Vietnam War with my father, the late Rev. Dr. Karl Claudius Garrison, Jr. and other like-minded leftist priests and professors. So, I knew from past protest experiences that if I presented myself as a tie-dyed hardcore protester professing my undying allegiance to the Democratic Party, I would have been greeted with open arms and invited to join in the barbeque and beer parties. However, as I dressed in nondescript black so as to present myself as a nonpartisan journalist, often I was viewed as not a potential comrade but a potential enemy, someone who must be avoided at all costs.
The lyrics from the ‘60s era rock musical Hair’s classic anthem “Easy to Be Hard” reiterated throughout my head, as I met person after person, who professed to be a “Christian.” While they preached emphatically against the evil elephants, using repeated calls for social justice; they demonstrated hostility towards the perceived Republican enemy, while noting indifference towards those individuals when they couldn’t quite decipher their particular political leanings.
Even though I an a lifelong Episcopalian, for the first time in my life, I did not feel that I belonged in any of these houses of worship even those that had the red, white and blue sign out front proclaiming “The Episcopal Church Welcomes You.” Conversely, the conservative evangelical churches were not welcoming to me either, due to their unspoken requirement that I needed to profess my faith in Bush before I could worship at their altar.
Simply put, how can we as a Christian community hope to come to any common ground and engage in civil discourse, when our places of worship are not welcoming to those of different political persuasions? When a stranger or enemy looks into the eyes of a Christian, do they see the love of Christ reflected back at them or do they feel the glare of anger and hatred directed towards them? If churches want to have people reach out to us, we need to extend language of love, generosity, open-heartedness, and kindness to others.
Now, unconditional love does not mean unconditional approval, for while God loves all of humanity, God does not approve of those public policies that breed violence, hatred, and other expressions of evil. Rabbi Michael Lerner, editor of Tikkun and co-founder of the Tikkun Community, notes that tens of millions of Americans feel betrayed by a society that seems to place materialism and selfishness above moral values. In God’s Politics, Jim Wallis asks why the faith of Jesus came to be known as pro-rich, pro-war and pro-American, adding that poverty and the environment are also religious issues.Unfortunately, rather than engage with believers from different political backgrounds, too often though Christians confuse acceptance of others with approval of their position, refusing at times to extend love towards those whose political views do not meet with their tacit approval. But the more Christians can learn to mirror the love of Christ, who loved all humanity - even his enemies- then the more the church will truly reflect the body of Christ. Dr. Miroslav Volf, author of Exclusion & Embrace (Abingdon Press, 1996) notes, “The ‘enemy’ ought to be loved, his or her enmity notwithstanding. There is a whole way of life and a whole theological program contained in that simple command.” (The Wittenburg Door, January/February 1999)
What if instead of creating political havens for democratically political souls to gather, these churches would chose instead to receive the other based on the Greatest Commandment of all? (Matt. 22:37-39) As Christians, we are commanded to “love God with all our heart and all our soul and love our neighbor as ourselves.” I interpret this to mean that those that profess to follow the teachings of Jesus Christ must respond to all of God’s children with genuine Christian love offering them hospitality instead of giving them a dismissive nod because they share different political views or worse.
What does it mean to extend hospitality to those for whom we may dislike or even despise? While noting that the enemy is often defined by the political order, in Radical Hospitality: Benedict’s Way of Love (Paraclete Press, October 2002) authors Father Daniel Homan, O.S.B and Lonni Collins Pratt challenge Christians to search for some degree of real acceptance that allows Christians to offer a genuine word of welcome to those who disagree with them. “By accepting someone, we do what seems to be a small ordinary thing. A simple act would seem to be small anyway, but little acts of giving, one upon another, pile up to create a huge force capable of repelling darkness and transforming the world.” As Henri Nouwen says, “hospitality means primarily the creation of a free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy. Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place.” If we can embrace our political rivals by creating such a sacred space, then perhaps we will find out for ourselves that the radical hospitality of St. Benedict offers a much-needed power for both church and world.
Whenever I operate a Salvation Army canteen, be it during the 9-11 recovery operations, during a fire, disaster drill or a FDNY funeral, I know that I am contributing in small way in bringing Christ’s love in the midst of a horrible tragedy. Through the strength present in this radical love, I am able to transcend my ideological differences with the Army’s doctrine and to serve those with whom I share radically different political philosophies. Similarly, when I journey to one of Habitat for Humanity’s worksites, I find that swinging a hammer bonds this interfaith community together so that our religious and political ideologies dissolve into the piles of sawdust scattered at our feet.
While I continue to experience this outpouring of Christ’s love that transcends race, creed, and political divisions through service to others in non-church settings, I have yet to find a liturgical church that embraces both the Social Gospel and welcomes me as a wandering Christian into their midst. My recent conversations with other Christians, who are registered Republican, Democrats and Independent voters, confirm that I am by no means the only one who feels without a spiritual home in a post 9-11 world. The challenge I present to US churches is to seek to create the type of worshipping communities where Red and Blue Christians can come together in communion as brothers and sisters in Christ.
Becky Garrison is Senior Contributing Editor for The Wittenburg Door and author of the forthcoming book, Black and Blue Church: Eyewitness Accounts of How American Churches are Hijacking Jesus, Bagging the Beatitudes, and Worshipping the Almighty Dollar.
Volume 1, #4
Spring, 2005
