Yves here. While it may seem a parochial to discuss American Christianity, it has become a very powerful force in the US, not just through Evangelical support of Zionism but also on the broader and more durable plane of social values. Among the many developmental experiences most people have that I missed was that I was not brought up in any religion.1 Thus I cannot calibrate what Dannebohm is seeing, but he seems to have enough anecdata as to be approaching data.
Dannebohm makes very clear that American Christian antipathy for the poor and downtrodden is not just an Evangelical affair but is now shared by many Catholic prelates. I’m not up with the politics of any organized religion. Is this in part due to the American effort (starting many decades back) to demonize priests in Latin America and African priests who were socially and often politically active in trying to get policies and programs to help workers and those in poverty as Commies?
By J. Basil Dannebohm. a columnist, speaker, consultant, and former state legislator who divides his time between Kansas and Washington DC. He is a registered Independent. Originally published at his website
About a year or so ago, actor Rainn Wilson posted on social media, “The metamorphosis of Jesus Christ from a humble servant of the abject poor to a symbol that stands for gun rights, prosperity theology, anti-science, limited government (that neglects the destitute) and fierce nationalism is truly the strangest transformation in human history.”
It should come as no surprise that the rise in religious extremism directly corelates with the rise in political extremism; both are rooted in fear.
How long have we been told, “They’re coming for your rights?”
Yet to date, as Wilson, famous for his role on The Office, pointed out, the only individuals stripping Americans of any rights are the very politicians who profess to believe in “limited government.”
Every accusation is a confession.
What used to be red flags are now celebrated signals. In the 1970s, it was Jonestown. In the 1990s, it was Waco. Today, it is commonplace. We’ve normalized dysfunction and far too much of American Christianity has assumed the role of conductor on the crazy train.
The Roman Catholic theologian Karl Rahner astutely observed, “The number one cause of atheism is Christians. Those who proclaim Him with their mouths and deny Him with their actions is what an unbelieving world finds unbelievable.”
To non-believers, many Christian denominations are viewed, in large part, to be the antithesis of the very Gospel they proclaim; consumed with “self” and not with “serve.”
A “my way or the highway faith” that fails to take into consideration that one person’s doctrine could be another person’s heresy; and which only demonstrates respect and compassion to those who conform and comply with a certain credo, is hardly Christlike. It’s legalistic nationalism.
That, combined with a political view of faith, brings us to our present reality.
As Blaise Pascal said, “Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction.”
Recently, a well-known Catholic journalist was cheerfully ridiculed on social media by a priest who declared with religious conviction that the journalist was, “A waste of baptismal water because he refuses to debate his liberal theological views.”
I’ve received similar messages from pastors, “influencers,” armchair theologians, and converts whose chrism has not even dried yet, all of whom suggest that my interpretation of the Gospel is “naïve,” “liberal,” “consumed with social justice,” “a victim of the heresy of empathy,” and “far too centered on the message of Christ, rather than the messages handed down by the Holy Spirit through sacred tradition.”
It’s worth pointing out that quite often “sacred tradition” is merely church-speak for gaslighting. Catholic and Orthodox Christians leverage “sacred tradition” in defense of the male-only priesthood. Yet it was women who first arrived at the tomb and learned of Christ’s Resurrection. The men were hiding.
But I digress.
The individuals who flood my inbox with their diatribes bear similar extreme political and theological traits: Their social media is chock full of religious imagery, prayers, rosaries, and protests. Peppered among the pharisaical posts are images of vengeance, weaponry, insults waged at “the least of these,” assertions that other religions are “condemned to hell,” and the notorious red hat that has become synonymous with hatred, cruelty, conspiracy, fear, and “power.”
These are the very people Rahner said, “an unbelieving world finds unbelievable.”
While these hyper-religious nationalists post an abundance of selfies portraying themselves deep in prayer, protesting one thing or another, or alleging their faith is “under attack,” I can’t find a single image wherein any of them display even the slightest interest in Christlike service.
It would appear they have no taste for “washing feet” by volunteering at a women’s shelter, no time to raise money for a mission, no use for helping at a soup kitchen, and no desire to contribute to a food bank. They seem to occupy their time with constant protesting, “debating,” attacking those who don’t conform to their rhetoric, and launching “apostolates” aimed at stroking their fragile egos.
Rather than the Beatitudes, they’ve adopted me-atitudes, mistaking nationalism for the Gospel.
As the countercultural Benedictine theologian Godfrey Diekmann once quipped, “What difference does it make if the bread and wine turn into the Body and Blood of Christ and we don’t?”
I don’t know about that Catholic journalist, but I’m not going to “debate” my “liberal theological views,” I’m going to live them.
I’ve been told I “disrupt the peace.”
That’s probably true.
I may be persona non-grata in at least two of the historical branches of Christianity, but let’s be honest: Sitting in a building for an hour on Sundays doesn’t make someone a Christian any more than sitting in a garage makes someone a Chevrolet. Judas Iscariot is proof that you can be part of a dynamic movement with an amazing shepherd and still become the devil’s stooge if your heart is not genuinely committed to the very Christ you claim to worship.
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1 My father was an undeclared atheist; he didn’t want his children saying so since it would have been very bad for his career. He did not admit to his no-belief, that religion was a crutch to reconcile people with their mortality, until shortly before his death. My mother was not at all religious. For instance, no Bible reading or prayers. We did go to the Unitarian mother church in Boston for two years, mainly because my father had been friends with the pastor when they both lived in Charleston, South Carolina and then to a Presbyterian church for maybe six months in Oregon. So I had some exposure to Protestantism but not enough to take.
