How Can We Sing the Lord's Song in a Strange Land?

Some days it's pretty darn difficult being a Christian in America.

And it's not because it's verboten to talk about religion, or that you're one of ten righteous men surrounded by a sea of Soddom and Gomorites.

It's not because of persecution, either of the "throw you in jail kind" or the more subtle, but equally silencing, "raised eyebrow accompanied by a worldly smirk" kind.

No, I struggle with calling myself a Christian here in this In God We Trust country because of one group of people.

Other Christians.

At first, it was kind of refreshing to hear people broadcast their faith so publicly. Bumper stickers and t-shirts proclaim allegiances, open Bibles are read devoutly on the bus, and Barnes & Noble has a huge (and obviously profitable) section devoted to "Spirituality and Religion."

But the more I listened to the WWJDisms around me, the more uncomfortable I became. The more I heard people claim that the Lord was behind their particular brand of protectionism, the more I wondered how much this is One Nation Under God.

And the more I witnessed, wincing, Biblical justification for a most unholy war, the more I began to wish I could hide my light under a bush, oh yes. (Or take it away from a Bush, as the case may be, so he can no longer use words intended for peace to fuel his war-mongering. A "different tone" indeed.)

In truth, the monolith that is "Evangelical Christians"* reminds me of members of Oprah's Book Club. Each group takes mindless refuge in an outspoken leader who claims humility despite being tremendously powerful. Each group reads religiously the passages as directed by their spiritual advisor, and meets to discuss the accepted interpretations at set times in well-appointed buildings. And each group resembles God's sheep sometimes only in their willingness to trot stupidly behind their shepherd, wagging their tails behind them.

If these worshippers at the altar of Truth (as in "our truth is THE TRUTH and if you do not believe you will be cast unto the fires of hell" brand of Truth) were quietly pious, I would take no issue with them. They have the right to examine Scripture just as I do, and we are all convinced individually of our enlightened understanding.

But for some reason, the religious right has decided that this country is a Christian Nation, by God, and that public policy (and public servants) has to spring from, and enforce, the godly principles from which its glorious stars and stripes emerged and for which they represent the last line in the sand.

Except there's one problem. God is not a Republican from Texas.**

If He were, then I suppose He might be smiling down on the scared-yet-defiant-in-their-fear-of-The-Other hordes decrying the nation's downfall at the hands of The Gays, The Terrorists, The Illegal Immigrants, The Feminists, The Democrats, The French-Fry-Eating Traitors, and anyone else with the audacity to disagree with them.

But He is not (at least, his son sure wasn't). In fact, while God certainly works through political leaders (see also: Old Testament), He just as often works in spite of them (see also: Old Testament). His son had a decidedly apolitical, "take it or leave it" relationship with government.

However, you wouldn't know it if you looked at the weeks and months leading to the upcoming election.

No, it would seem that, for many Americans, the future of this country depends on whether its elected leaders are the right kind of Christians. (That they are, of course, Christians goes without saying. Rumours about Obama's being a Muslim continue to persist - and sway voters who believe them - because a president of another faith would be unthinkable and worse even than an atheist.)

Witness the choice of Sarah Palin as VP candidate. McCain chose her, over many, many (many, many, many...) other more qualified candidates in part because of her beliefs. Because he knew that her pro-life anti-abortion, anti-evolution, anti-gay, God-fearin' ways would attract the religious right who were wondering what had happened to their Republican party. Witness the story that just won't die about Obama's former pastor, Jeremiah Wright, and his hate-mongering - the suggestion being "if this is what Obama hears on Sundays, what will he do for us the other six days?"

To be fair, the folks on the other side aren't doing much better. Witness the YouTube video of Palin being blessed in her church, one component of which was requesting God's protection from witchcraft, and the howls of derision it engenders. Or the mistaken correlation between her being just not so smart when it comes to matters scientific and her being a Christian.

The problem here goes beyond Republican and Democrat. It finds its root in the misguided belief that America is a Christian nation and that this is something that must be protected. Christianity is a personal faith - at most, one can have a nation of Christians (or people who call themselves that), but never a Christian nation. It doesn't exist; there's nothing to be protected.

And so I cringe when the inevitable question of a candidate's religious beliefs comes up. I cringe because what passes for "Christian" in this nation is so, so far from what I read in the Bible and directly contradicts the life Jesus led. I cringe because the right's insistence that a candidate be molded in their image of God becomes a stand-in for what "Christians" believe and I'm lumped in with a group with which I have little in common other than that we all own a Bible. I cringe because the (often understandable) backlash at this type of Christian prevents the voices of other Christians from being heard.

And I miss Canada, where church and state are far apart and being a Christian is an oddity, and not either a mark of achievement or a liability.



* Yes, I am aware that the term has come to mean only a particular brand of Christianity, the fundamental religious right, and that there are many outside of that brand who might also fall into a broader definition of "Evangelical Christians" - and therein lies the problem.

** My thanks to Mary Doria Russell and her book The Sparrow - it's Jesuits in space with a moral.