I’ve often heard the quote that one of the most segregated hours in American life is the hour Americans spend at Sunday church services. People tend to worship with other people of their own race, culture, and socio-economic class, but does that have anything to do with racism?

Bishop Blase Cupich, the current occupant of the episcopal chair of the Catholic Diocese of Rapid City, weighed in on racism in the upcoming presidential election in this Oct. 27 article in the Jesuit magazine, America: http://www.americamagazine.org/content/article.cfm?article_id=11161

Do Christians need to be told that racism is a sin? And, if so, is it a sin that will be committed by both whites and blacks at polling booths on Nov. 4?

Father Thomas Williams - St. John’s Orthodox Church

This most sensitive issue, I believe, is best dealt with in prayer. However, the holy Gospel of St. John  does give us guidance. In Chapter 8 the evangelist writes of the time the Scribes and Pharisees tried to trap Our Lord by bringing to him a woman caught in adultery; “the very act of adultery,” the Gospel states. The Scribes and Pharisees told Jesus that Moses in the law commanded that the woman be stoned, “But what do you say?” They did this to test Him; so they might have something of which to accuse Him. But Jesus stooped down and wrote on the ground with His finger as though he did not hear. When the Pharisees and Scribes pressed Him for an answer Our Lord said: “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” Then he wrote on the ground again. One by one the accusers left so that Jesus finally stood up and asked the woman: “Where are those who accused you? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one,” Lord. And Jesus said:  “Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.”

Some  sensitive issues,  I believe, are best dealt with in prayer, when we turn to God and ask Him to help us know what he has written in our hearts.

Dr. Nicholas Wallerstein - religious studies professor

But the Bishop goes off track in suggesting that it is equally wrong for our black brothers and sisters to vote for a black candidate purely because he is black. This would not represent negative, destructive racism based on hatred and ignorance. It would, instead, represent a positive, loving, uplifting, creative, joyful pride in one’s people—a people who have been systematically oppressed and marginalized by the dominant white culture throughout American history.

I therefore submit that it should be considered a sin for a white not to vote for a black purely because he’s black, but it is not a sin for a black person to vote for a black candidate purely because he is black. After all, millions of women voted for Hillary Clinton in the primaries because they wanted to see a woman president. Did anyone call this a sin? I don’t think so. Did anyone call it a sin when millions of Irish Catholics voted for John Kennedy because they wanted to see an Irish Catholic elected president? I don’t think so. Women and the Irish have experienced terrible prejudice in America; how positively uplifting for oppressed and marginalized peoples to see one of their own elected to the highest office in the land. How magnificently self-affirming. It seems perfectly natural, normal, and acceptable that our black brothers and sisters would find great joy, hope, and pride in seeing a black man become president.

Rev. Brian Carpenter–Presbyterian Church in America

Once again, I think it would be helpful to define our terms so we don’t talk past each other.  Racism, in my understanding, is different from racial prejudice, and is another degree further removed from what we might call “racial discomfort.”

Racism, as I use the word, is an antipathy towards a certain race plus either the direct power or (more commonly) a support of the power structures which allows systematic harm the members of that race.  You don’t need to be aware that you’re participating in these power structures in order to participate in them.  We can shorten this definition into a convenient form by saying that racism is racial antipathy plus power.  By this definition, only those in power or who are members of groups which are in power can be racists.  This is what black intellectuals often mean when they say “America is a racist country.”  They mean there has historically been a dislike of black people coupled with the use of all sorts of power to give teeth to that antipathy and cause systematic harm.  The effect has been to deprive people who would have become happy, productive citizens of the opportunity to become so.  The extent to which that still goes on is a matter of heated debate, colored on all sides by history and suspicion.  My own take (as a white man) is that things are both better and worse than they were.  Better because some of the most egregious laws have been altered.  Worse because there are all sorts of power structures that can’t easily be regulated by the law, and the ham-handed attempts to do so have not been effective in combating the problem.  Very often they have made it worse on all sides.  For example, Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas speaks eloquently of the anger he felt because everyone assumed that his Yale law degree wasn’t earned through academic effort, but was simply handed out according to affirmative action policies.

To simply dislike another race, but to either forgo the power available to you to systematically harm them, or to not have access to that power at all would be, according to my use of terms, racial prejudice but not racism.  Of course, all racists are also racially prejudiced, but not all racially prejudiced are racists.  Racism and, to a lesser degree, racial prejudice reflect a lack of charity for neighbor, and are thus sins.

Racial discomfort is a feeling of anxiety when one is among members of other racial groups, particularly if one feels “outnumbered” or the culture and customs are strange.  We all like to look out and see faces that look like our faces.  We prefer the sound of our own language and familiar sights, smells, sounds, and habits.   If we do not understand the folkways, we might take simple gestures as a prelude to some sort of sinister act. To be set apart is to be, perhaps,  in some way vulnerable.  I’ve heard something like this sentiment expressed by a Chinese woman who visits our church during the summer months.  She likes certain other areas of the country more than South Dakota because there are more Asian people in those places.  She doesn’t feel like she sticks out so much.  She’s lived in the U.S. for the last 40 years and is married to a Caucasian, so racial antipathy cannot be blamed.  To my knowledge, she has not been singled out for abuse because she’s Chinese.  The anxiety is not rational, but it’s real.  I’ve felt it myself in Tijuana (even though I was raised in New Mexico, which has a large Hispanic population.)   Indeed, race need not enter into it at all, for I’ve heard the same complaint from a white German exchange student and I’ve felt the same momentary discomfort myself in a Glasgow fish-and-chip shop when my obviously American accent caused everyone in the place to stop and stare for a moment.  Everyone in the shop was as white as me.  As the Kalevala says, “In a stranger’s house the floor is full of knots.”  Having said that, it’s good to be the only white face in a sea of brown or black ones from time to time.  It shows you something of what it’s like to be a brown or black face in a sea of white ones.  It creates empathy.

Although I cannot categorically say that the so-called segregation in our churches is not the result of some racism and racial prejudice, I don’t think that’s the main cause of it.  I think racial and even cultural discomfort accounts for most of it.  For many, church is as much an object of sentiment as the home.   Perhaps even more so.  One’s worship often has all sorts of cultural and familial memory tied up in it, rightly or wrongly.  The older we get, the more we feel that way.  We want our songs, our familiar liturgy.  We delight in the creak of our old, long-accustomed pew as we shift our weight onto it.  This can, of course, turn idolatrous, but I don’t think it is necessarily so.  However, if your group’s liturgy and songs are radically different than mine, the effect is often jangling and distracting to me.  Melding two different group’s traditions is very difficult.  Many church leaders don’t want to even try.  The price is liable to be very high.

I also do not think it would it be racism (strictly speaking) to refuse to vote for Barack Obama because he is black.  It would be racial prejudice, but not racism.  To vote for a candidate simply on the basis of race (or gender, or national origin, or even religion) is understandable, but irresponsible.  Sarah Palin is the same race as me.  She’s an Evangelical Protestant, like me.  She’s a gun owner and a hunter, like me.  We’re only a few years apart in age.  We are members of the same political party, and even inhabit the same “wing” in that political party.  I’d vote for a well-qualified Muslim before I’d vote for her, because I don’t think she’s shown herself to be capable of doing the job she’s applying for.  Identity politics is a poor substitute for competence.

Don Jones - Buddhist

I was raised Episcopalian in SLC, Utah.  In the early days there, there was a policy that blacks were not allowed to hold any office in the LDS church although they were certainly allowed to become LDS.  That was changed much later.  In my church there were no people of color that I can remember but I think that it is a natural human trait to hang out and worship and play with people they have the most in common with.  Racism is different than prejudice (as is already pointed out) .  At that time, the LDS church was practicing racism.  Personal prejudice comes up according to how one is raised and their experience.  I don’t think the church I went to was in any way  racist but there may have been people there who were prejudiced.  Politics were never preached in church and actually, no other religions were discussed either.

The Buddhist view is called equanimity.  One strives to love everyone equally without indifference to some, dislike for others or adoration for a few.  Skin color, politics, gender, sexual orientation, religion, age etc. should have no bearing on the feeling of compassion and loving kindness.  This takes practice, especially mindfulness; where one has to constantly monitor the nature of  attitudes, thoughts and feelings so that they remain on the path to liberation.  It sometimes sounds like detachment to those outside the practice but the opposite is true.  A practicing Buddhist is engaged with his community, associates etc because his/her mind is focused not on the self but rather the understanding of reality as it appears without prejudice or discrimination of any kind.

In the Theravedan tradition we have a prayer called Metta:

May I and all beings be filled with loving kindness

May I and all beings be safe from inner and outer dangers

May I and all beings be well in body and mind

May I and all beings be happy and free

This also includes our enemies BTW Below is a link to a nice peaceful chant on youtube

Metta chant in Pali

The Rev. Skip Smith, a retired Presbyterian pastor from Sturgis, spoke out about his personal reasons for opposing Measure 11, the proposed abortion ban on the Nov. 4 ballot that would outlaw nearly all of the approximately 800 abortions performed annually in South Dakota.

At a public forum on Oct. 16, Smith told the story of his wife’s therapeutic abortion, performed many years ago. The couple, and some medical doctors, said the emergency abortion was necessary to save her health and her life. But others might have disagreed and Smith said if Measure 11 were the law of South Dakota a woman in a similar situation as his wife may not be able to quickly get the abortion she needed.

The film “Sacred Choices” says that all faiths and all denominations do not take a monolithic view of abortion as always morally wrong. Do you agree or disagree? And do you, like Smith, have a deeply personal story to share about why you either support or reject Measure 11?

Don Jones - Buddhist:

Buddhists in general, take the 5 precepts: They abstain from taking of life (any sentient life), stealing, false speech, sexual misconduct, and (unskillfully) taking intoxicants. Abortion violates the first precept. But, as compassionate practitioners, they do not judge those who make this decision or engage in religious punishment or shunning etc. As in all moral laws there are gray areas such as rape, incest, and the health of the mother or child. Most Buddhists believe in the basic law of karma in that there is no escaping the consequences of one’s actions. This is punishment (or reward) enough for the Buddhist. My personal view is that passing laws will not stop abortion. I think that the last thing we would want is to start prosecuting and imprisoning teenage girls and doctors for murder if that is what would happen if these kinds of laws are enacted.

Our first thought always, is compassion. We can forgive and we can also perform acts of purification and prayer for the lost life. We can also look to ourselves to make sure we continue to follow the precepts.

Rev. Brian Carpenter- Presbyterian Church in America:

This issue is very personal to me. I have two beautiful daughters. One is 32 months old, the other is 20 months old. Both of them are adopted domestically. One is not caucasian. She has beautiful brown skin and comes from a race that has been horribly abused in the past and is often despised today. The other came from unimaginably difficult circumstances which I have no liberty to share. If either of their mothers had chosen abortion, I would not have the privilege of sharing my life with these two wonderful, unutterably precious little girls.

I realize that sometimes abortions need to be done to save the life of the mother, or to save the life of another baby sharing the womb, as in the case of the couple in Sioux Falls who I see on the TV commercial. Those are tragic and painful circumstances. I believe those abortions are morally permissible, but let’s be honest. They are rare. The law could be written to accommodate those circumstances, medical-legal casuistry not withstanding. The overwhelming majority of abortions are not therapeutic. They are tardy birth control.

That means they are also murder. I know that is not a popular statement, and will open me up to all sorts of hate mail from the forces of tolerance, but so be it. The definition of a human being is not a biological creature with viability or utility. Nobody (yet) questions the innate humanity of a person who is dependent upon an external source of oxygen to live, or a profoundly disabled person, (though Princeton bioethicist Peter Singer comes close.) What makes a human being a human being is the possession of a rational soul bearing the stamp of the image of God, and therefore of great dignity and worth. That soul is imparted at conception.

No doubt some will consider that a statement which is not scientifically verifiable, and thus dismiss it. But be careful before you do. Let me leave you with just one example of why I say that. My father was a research biologist, a toxicologist. He never understood the whole abortion issue and the value that people like me place on “a blob of tissue.” Then the animal rights movement came along and started threatening the continuity of his animal research.

“A pig is a monkey is a rat is a boy.” said the animal rights activist. “All life has the same value and we shouldn’t kill one life form to help another.”

“Balderdash! Human life is more important than animal life!” said my father.

“Oh?” said I, “Does that mean you think human beings are somehow special and more valuable after all? Why do you think that? You’ve said yourself that you believe you are basically only a turbocharged monkey whose existence is over when you draw your last breath. On your own view, what else but irrational prejudice could lead you to prefer the wellbeing of your species over the wellbeing of another species?”

The only reason to believe that human beings are more valuable than rats is spiritual, not scientific. It is revealed, not rationally derived. It is a faith statement.

Ideas have consequences. They work their way out logically and infallibly in history. Jettison this idea, and we’ll either end up experimenting on no living creatures (and good luck if you get a cancer!) or we will give ourselves permission to experiment on all living creatures. We will someday cease to experiment on mice, and commence to experimenting on men. Neither seems like a very good idea to me.

Dr. Nicholas Wallerstein - religious studies professor:

Our friend Don Jones hits the nail on the head when he writes “passing laws will not stop abortion.” But the consequences are even worse than he suggests. We are talking about more than just arrest and jail. Anti-abortion laws don’t stop abortion; they only force it underground, creating a situation where thousands of women and young girls will die (as they have died in the past) from botched illegal abortions. Any theological or rational system of morality that we can develop must tell us that the lives of women and young girls are worth more than insentient fetuses.

Fr. Chip Johnson - Anglican:

As a teenager growing up in East Tennessee, many many years ago, the statute in Tennessee Code Annotated provided for the therapeutic abortion for …the preservation of the life of the mother, or to terminate the results of incest or rape, and no other reasons were accepted.

Measure 11 makes the same statement. If the cessation of human life is to be allowed, it should be allowed for only those reasons…not for medical experimentation (fetal stem cell reserch), not for convenience (just a more sure method of birth control), nor for “managing the size and shape of our family” due to a blip on the echo or sonogram.

Ben Eicher — Catholic:

I grew up in the 1960s in a household that was very active on social issues. My father, a Missouri Synod-Lutheran pastor, attended the 1963 March on Washington (Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech) with a large group of other east coast clergymen, along with his friend and seminary classmate Pastor Richard John Neuhaus, who knew MLK and led the group. In our house we vigorously opposed the war in Vietnam, and sided with The Movement on essentially all fronts. But abortion was not an issue on the agenda in our house. At least I don’t remember it being one. As I grew up I kept those other views, but added one: abortion rights. Then, one day, I asked my father what we as Lutherans were to believe about abortion. “Oh, that’s easy,” Dad answered, “we’re against it.” I was floored—and I’m not sure why. Some years later I read of Dad’s friend, Richard John Neuhaus, who by then had gained some degree of celebrity, announce that he had come into full communion with the Catholic Church. I attended a banquet speech he gave at St. Olaf’s College in Minnesota for those of us associated with the Center for Catholic and Evangelical Theology. Father Neuhaus recounted how he had been booted out of The Movement because of his stance on one issue: abortion. Around that time, I too found myself seeking to be welcomed into full communion with the Catholic Church, not necessarily because of her staunch Right to Life position which I embrace, but certainly welcoming it. I am happy to no longer wrestle with my conscious over this issue. I often tell of a woman from Chadron who I met in the mid-’90s. She had four children. The oldest was the product of incest by her older brother; the second and third were by her husband; the fourth was the product of a vicious rape (the rapist is doing time in prison for it). She loves each child equally. At no time—whether before or after their births—did she want to kill the first or the fourth child. That is love!

Christianity was always and solidly against abortion. One reason was that death or mistreatment of children (born and unborn) was a frequent part of Roman secular life, and of heretical Gnostic Dualism. One way we know of Christianity’s solid opposition to abortion is because of writings such as The Didache, most assuredly the oldest surviving piece of non-canonical literature. It dates back to the time of the Apostles, perhaps within twenty years of Jesus’ death and Resurrection. The Didache was a compendium of Christian instructions said to derive directly from the teachings of Jesus as passed down by the Apostles themselves. The Didache includes the following about abortion:

1. There are two ways, one of life and one of death, and between the two ways there is a great difference. 2. Now, this is the way to life: … The second commandment of the Teaching: Do not murder; do not commit adultery; do not corrupt boys; do not fornicate; do not steal; do not practice magic; do not go in for sorcery; do not murder a child by abortion or kill a newborn infant…

Sounds good to me!

The Rev. David Cameron, Retired Episcopal:

Those Christians who favor measure 11 may assume that there is a universal Christian system of values and rules intelligible for all persons that can (or should) be codified by the secular government. If that is the case, the assumption is false. Jesus had no such universal ethic that systemitized universal values. At best he had a method of ” contextual” decision-making. Jesus seemed more often to tailor his action or decision making to fit the objective circumstances, the “situation.” There is a higher calling for Christian than to simply have certain values and rules mandated by the law of the land, which no doubt are needed to help order society. This higher calling is to bring the Chrisitian Faith - Jesus’ teaching, the teaching about Jesus, Jesus’ death and resurrection, the guidance of the Holy Spirit thoughout history clarifying the meaning and application of the Christ Event- to bear on each and every situation that calls for a moral decision. It is a call to a methodology rather than to a prescribed system.

For Christians, to codify such a restrictive response to the abortion option as in Measure 11 is a mistake. It lets us off far short of our obligation as followers of Christ. We certainly need to build “boxes” or systems to express at least the commonly held values of a community, that which we can agree to hold in common. But, at least, I would advocate big “boxes” because even then we Christians willl be called to think and act “outside” our imperfect human systems. The unconditional love that Jesus, the Christ, revealed and the Spirit of God affirms in countless and every changing situations will never be subject to our limited and imperfect laws. As a community we are far from sharing a common view on the abortion option and measure 11 does not help establish such a shared view. Take it off the table. Certainly the Christain community has a method to bring to each and every situation that may have an abortion as an option.

A short anecdote to illuminate or to confuse related by Joseph Fletcher. A friend arrived in St. Louis just as a presidential campaign was ending, and the cab driver , not being above the battle, volunteered his testimony. “I and my father and grandfather before me, and their fathers, have always been straight-ticket Republicans.” “Ah,” said my friend, who is himself a Republican, “I take it that means you will vote for Senator So-and-So.” “No,” said the driver, “there are times when a man has to push his principles aside and do the right thing.” This man understands what we Christians are often called to do, exacerbated by the proliferation of the laws and rules of particular communities.

By Mary Garrigan

Obviously, Americans can and should take their religious values and beliefs into the voting booth with them, relying on the ethical and moral principles of their faith when deciding how to vote on a wide range of political issues with religious ramifications — abortion, war, immigration, marriage law, poverty issues, environmental concerns and more.

But reconciling a voter’s faith beliefs with a candidate’s political stances has traditionally been a private matter for Americans. Now that churches, pastors and religious organizations are routinely involved in political campaigns of many persuasions, the line between organized religion and politics is increasingly blurry.

A recent Pew Forum survey showed that 52 percent of Americans now say churches should stay out of “day-to-day social and political matters,” and concentrate on higher, more spiritual things. That’s a change from a decade earlier.

Are we Americans growing disillusioned by the cross-pollination of religion and politics?

 

Marion Zenker - Unitarian Universalist

Unitarian Universalists by and large are very active politically in supporting candidates and/or defeating ballot issues. When the UU General Assembly have adopted a stance nationwide on an issue such as supporting of legalized marriage between gay couples then local congregations and pastors speak directly to the issues. When the national body has not adopted a stance on a particular issue, we are still free to express our opinion and/or volunteer to support politically or financially any individual candidate or ballot issue that address our personal view. As UU’s we are very supportive of the separation of Church and State so far as legislative action is concerned and we continually remind ourselves that constitutionally this country is as committed to “freedom of religion” as well as “freedom from religion”. As Unitarian Universalist Fellowships and congregations, no person is expected or required to submit to any creedal test to become a member.

Our membership runs the gamut from declared atheist or agnostic to practicing Buddhist, Jewish, Pagan and Christian. In fact, Unitarian Universalist individuals would probably not be part of the 52% of the public that feels that churches should stay out of the “day-to-day social and political matters”. It seems to me that part of who we are as individuals and a church expects to be concerned about and involved the major social and political issues of the day, especially when those issues and our actions directly affect the safety and freedom of any individual or group of people. We, of course, do not support the concept that any one or group of religious community or church should be allowed to dictate our behavior such as making all abortions illegal or teaching the concept of “intelligent design” alongside “evolutionary theory” in our tax supported, public schools.

 

Fr. Tom Williams - Orthodox

When Our Holy Lord said, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s,” the Jews lived under the oppression of extremely heavy taxes imposed both by Rome and by Herod, tetrach of Galilee, and Philip, his brother, tetrarch of Iturea. Yet Jesus of Nazareth stayed out of day-to-day social and political matters.

The distinction between the things that are Caesar’s and the things that are God’s does not imply a division of life into two domains, the secular and the sacred. Rather, God is Lord over all. Therefore we must fulfill legitimate governmental requirements which do not conflict with our responsibility toward God (Romans 13, 7). Paying taxes and similar national duties such as defending one’s country are not detrimental to godliness. Jesus blessed both tax collectors and centurians by His presence.

While the evangelization not only of God’s people, but also of those who do not believe in Christ, constitutes the supreme duty of the Church (Acts 1:8), this duty must not be fulfilled in an aggressive manner, or by various forms of proselytism, but with love, humility and respect for the identity of each individual and the cultural particularity of each people. All Orthodox Churches must contribute to this missionary effort, respecting the canonical order.

But just as Jesus blessed tax collectors and centurians by His presence, He sanctified life by His presence as a tiny creature in Mary’s womb, and he sanctified marriage by His presence at the wedding feast at Cana. This is what Orthodox Christians would take into the voting booth with them.

 

Rev. Brian Carpenter– Presbyterian Church in America:

I think the way the poll question is framed is not helpful and doesn’t frame the issues accurately. I’m (sort of) a member of the so-called “Religious Right” myself, that is, I am an evangelical Christian. I am conservative in my moral politics, and more or less libertarian in my economic politics. I don’t think we’ve made ourselves and our motives understood. In large part I think this is because we haven’t understood ourselves. It’s no surprise, therefore, that the secular left doesn’t understand us.

The rise of the religious right was a wholly predictable thing to any reasonably astute observer of American social history. Up until the 1960’s there existed in America something known as the Protestant Consensus. It was waning in its influence through most of the 20^th century, but it was still a potent force in American culture. The so-called “Blue Laws” were an example of this. As was a more or less Protestant (though watered-down) Christianity in the Public Schools.

Because of this, most Americans pretty much agreed on the goals our society should strive for: good schools, good roads, clean water and sanitary sewers, prosperity and productivity, a competent law enforcement and a just judiciary, a reasonably well equipped military to provide for the common defense. What liberals and conservatives mostly differed on was the means for achieving those goals. One looked more to self-reliance and the private sector. The other looked more to the government. There was a moral consensus as well. Often the taboos revolved around sexuality. Sex outside of marriage, single motherhood, homosexuality, and divorce were, at least publicly, frowned upon. But so were things like public profanity as well. They were socially unacceptable, both to Republicans and to Democrats. Of course, what people did when nobody was looking or in the semi-public privacy of one’s own group was often different then, just as it is now.  That was part of the weakness and decay of the consensus.

With the rise to prominence of an alternative worldview (or perhaps it would be more accurate to say “alternative worldviews”) in the 1960’s, that consensus was completely fractured. Now the goals themselves were up for grabs. As that group moved into the 1970’s and early 1980’s, they came into more and more positions of power and influence, they drove a wedge right through the middle of American culture. Those who wanted to promote the new worldviews and behaviors were very aggressive in doing so. The universities and then the public schools became dominated by them.  So did the various government bureaucracies. The Democratic party came more and more under their influence. Journalism and the legal profession are all but controlled by them at key points. They are the majority in Hollywood and on Madison Avenue. A concerted effort was made to infiltrate the mainline churches and assume positions of power there as well. Even in corporate America they have left their mark

A reactionary movement, crystallizing around certain highly symbolic social issues was all but inevitable. The people who became the Religious Right were unmistakably fired upon. They desired to fire back. They wanted the old consensus back, and were prepared to spend time, energy, and money to try and recover it. Their chosen method was the political process.

That was a mistake, in my view. The operating assumption seems to be, “These people are trying to change, or have just changed a law (abortion, contraceptives in schools, gay marriage, the legalization of certain drugs… whatever.) That law represented the old consensus. It represented the America I grew up in and everything I think is good and right. If we are able to change it back, then everything will go back the way it was.”

The trouble with that is that it’s not true, and the Religious Right has just woken up in the last few years and realized that it’s not true. True to Hegel’s dialectic, a watered-down form of 60’s radicalism now dominates the culture in the same way that a watered-down Protestantism used to dominate it. They seized the levers of power and influence in the culture and began propagandizing furiously.  Politics is just the show.  The real battle was taking place behind the scenes and in the hearts and minds of individuals.  And they have made deep inroads into “my side” whether they realize it or not. George Barna, in his book Growing True Disciples points out that in area after area there is no statistically significant difference between the beliefs and behavior of over 90% of self-professed Evangelical Christians and someone who makes no such profession. Those who are supposed to be more like me are actually more like those with whom I find myself in almost constant opposition. I conclude from that fact that the secular left has won the culture war. All that’s left are skirmishes and mop up battles. The main battlefield today is the gay rights movement. The homoeroticization of that icon of American masculinity, the cowboy, in movie theaters a few years ago was the first shot of the last battle. The awards lavished on the movie show how on-target the shot was. We are losing and will lose this battle as well. The dialectic will probably have to work its way out in history at least until my point of view is sufficiently outside of the mainstream to have the possibility of becoming the new antithesis.

The interesting thing through all of this is that the secular left has consistently done what they constantly accuse people like me of trying to do. They have propagandized and forced their views on everyone within their reach. They and their philosophical offspring are still doing it today. I inhabited their classrooms for 17 years, and then attended a theologically liberal seminary where I was regularly bullied by their cousins, the religious left. The arrogant, rude, smelly hippy of yesterday has become an arrogant, rude, well-groomed professor. Or lawyer. Or journalist.  He desires domination under the cover of diversity.  He preaches tolerance and behaves intolerantly.  Give him enough power and he will do everything to me that he seems terrified that I want to do to him.

And so it still goes on. My television mostly spews forth sewage each night, with the promise of more to come this season. Earlier this week a lesbian teacher in San Francisco took her first grade class on a field trip to City Hall to witness her “marriage” to her partner. In Albuquerque, a Christian photographer was hauled before the human rights commission and fined $7,000 for politely refusing to photograph another such ceremony on the grounds that to do so would violate her sincerely held principles. In Canada the Bible was labeled “hate speech” by a judge on the human rights court and a $10,000 fine was levied on a Christian printer for refusing to print fliers for a pro-homosexual group.

The result has been that the average conservative, evangelical Christian who is life-and-death serious about his or her faith feels, day in and day out, a kind of low-grade anxiety. “What will the forces of diversity require of me at the corporate training workshop? What will my children be taught in the schools? What new law will be written to try and keep me from voicing my opinion? How will I or somebody like me be disrespected and held up as an object of ridicule by the mainstream media today?” To live and let live would by and large not be a problem. To be forced to accept something one finds antithetical is.

We are a minority, even though we are surrounded by lots of people who are ostensibly just like us. They’re really not, and we know it, even if they don’t quite. We’re acutely aware of our minority status and we feel the vulnerability that all minorities feel when they inhabit and alien and dominant culture that seems not quite to know what to do with them. So much so that I found myself having a kind of strange empathy for the awkward young Muslim girl wearing the hijab at the high school volleyball game the other day. I recognize that same anxiety on the faces of my immigrant acquaintances as well. You don’t want to offend unnecessarily. Neither can you in good conscience acquiesce. Mostly you just want to be left alone to live your life and raise your children as you see fit. Somewhere deep inside you know that you probably won’t be able to.

So I am in a conundrum. Right wing politics are all but irrelevant to me, and doubly so since Conservatism became a mask for corporate corruption, quasi-fascist lawmaking, and wild government spending. There is no “right person” to elect. Changing laws will not change hearts, and it’s hearts that need to be changed. Therefore I honestly don’t care who wins the presidential election. Neither candidate wears more than a veneer of Christianity, in my opinion. Probably neither man will be able to do much good. Probably neither man will be able to do much harm either.

At the same time, to tell me not to concentrate on “day to day social and political matters” but rather spend my time on “higher, more spiritual matters” is, quite simply, stupid. You can’t parse reality that way. Even Senator Obama understands that and said so in a speech. Anyone who thinks you can doesn’t understand the first thing about Christianity (or any other religion, for that matter.) They certainly don’t understand the job of a pastor.

I’ll exercise the privileges of a democracy and I’ll vote this November 4^th, but I will not expect much to come of it. I’ll encourage my flock to do so as well, but encourage them not to think much will come of it either. The politicians don’t listen to their constituency unless it’s close to election time anyhow. The Senator of my own party went along with a bailout that was expensive, idiotic, ineffective, and violated every principle he says he holds dear, and so did the rest of the Congress, even though their constituents were almost universally against it. They were bullied into it by the lame-duck President I helped elect and his appointees who all have cushy private-sector jobs waiting for them in January.

What will I substitute for political action? What I think should have substituted for it in the beginning of the movement: the recovery of a muscular, even militant, theologically informed Protestant Christianity. Therefore I will preach. I will evangelize. I will write. I will debate and argue. I will attack worldviews at the level of their basic assumptions. I aim to convince. If an opponent says something stupid, I will not play nicey-nice. I won’t be rude, but I won’t be shy either. The stakes are too high. Besides, I’m a Calvinist. I believe in the sovereignty of God and the doctrine of predestination. Either you’ll get it or you won’t. Platitudes are therefore irrelevant. Let the politicians shuffle the deck chairs on the Titanic how they please. I’m aiming, by God’s grace and with His help, to convince the reader. If I get your heart and your mind, then I won’t need to worry about how your politics will work their way out in the world.

Don Jones - Buddhist

I sometimes find it troubling but understandable that politics is becoming more entangled with religious institutions.  As a Buddhist I have certain values and I vote hoping that those who are elected will act with kindness and concern for those whom they serve.  It will be interesting that with time, more diversity will be seen in our government in terms of cultural and religious backgrounds.  America contains people from all over the world and even here in Rapid City there is more diversity than you would think.  What would happen if a Muslim were to run for office in South Dakota?  They are here, as well as Jews, Buddhists, and Hindus.  I think it will be good for us all to learn about these faiths and not be afraid or condescending.  Gradually, we will learn that we are all the same and we are interdependent.  (The current economic crisis should be a wake up call to learn that lesson.)

Buddhists do not proselytize.  Our job is to work within, to change ourselves so that we change the world. There is much to do to minimize our anger and selfishness, and to expand our compassion and wisdom.  This is our daily practice.

Dr. Nicholas Wallerstein - religious studies professor

When we read in the very first sentence of this blog (see the top of this page) that many Americans rely on their “ethical and moral principles of their faith when deciding how to vote,” we arrive at the center of the problem of Church versus State. Many Americans remain under the impression that ethics and morals can only come purely from their religious upbringings. This often leads religious Americans to base their political decisions on the morals found in the holy books of their religious traditions. For instance, many Christians will derive their moral perspective by looking to the Ten Commandments, to the life of Jesus as described in the New Testament, and to his sayings and teachings in the New Testament. Many Jews (at least those of the Orthodox persuasion) will also look to the Ten Commandments, plus all the other of the 613 commandments found in the Torah (called the Old Testament by Christians), plus the teachings of the sages and rabbis over several thousand years, as found, for instance, in the Talmud. Pious Muslims, likewise, will find their morals in the many laws enumerated in the Qur’an, plus Hadith (stories about the life of the Prophet Muhammad), and Sunna (the traditions of the Prophet).  

Why might this be a problem? Plato, through his spokesman Socrates, asked the following question in one of his famous dialogues: “Is something right or wrong merely because God says so, or does God say something is right or wrong because it really is right or wrong?” Plato later implies that the former is the case—that we often base our morals on somebody’s “say-so” (in this case, God’s say-so). This suggests that following the religious doctrines of whichever religion we believe in may lead us to determine our morals based merely on what a book written long ago arbitrarily says is right or wrong. But do we know we can trust in these morals as signifying what is truly right or wrong? Philosophers have grappled with this problem for a couple of thousand years, and many have come to the conclusion that we can (or must) develop a moral system that is much more satisfactory—one based on reason, not on the say-so of a religious text or tradition. Thus developed the intricate moral systems of Aristotle, Kant, J. S. Mill, Jean-Paul Sartre, and others—moral systems that are purely rationally based, and not based on supernatural beliefs. Mill, for instance, thought we should ask whether any particular action would provide “the greatest good for the greatest number.” Kant asked if a particular action is “universalizable,” that is, if it is an action that could stand up to moral scrutiny if everyone performed the action.  These philosophical perspectives allow us to realize that we don’t need religious doctrine to determine what is right or wrong. Pure reason can teach us, for instance, that “honor killings” of young girls is always wrong, or that genocide is always wrong, or that torturing puppies for fun is always wrong.

My point, therefore, is that it may be too simple to decide our vote based on “WWJD”—“What Would Jesus Do?” Or “What Would Queen Esther Do?” (if we are Jewish). Or “What Would the Prophet Muhammad Do?” (if we are Muslim). We must instead, many philosophers suggest, look to logic and reasoning and intense critical thinking when deciding on the moral and ethical beliefs that we take with us into the voting booth. By using religious tradition to dictate what votes we cast, we run into the danger of following what may be arbitrary rules and laws. Clearly, this poses a danger to democracy, for when we use arbitrary moral values to decide issues—rather than clearly thought-out principles based on logic and reasoning—we run the risk of irrational policies, often based on the opinions of the religious majority. A character in a Woody Allen movie once said “If necessary, I will always choose God over the truth.” When it comes to voting, can we really trust this? Clearly, a democracy—if it wishes to be a healthy democracy—should rely on truth over and above any religious dogma. This is the notion we should carry with us into the voting booth. Our personal faith in a Higher Power should be the motivation behind our spiritual lives, not our political lives.