Shine On!

One
of the unanticipated consequences of being an

outspoken Christian in liberal politics is having people come out of
the closet to me. It isn't a hidden or misunderstood sexual leaning
that they confess, however, but a religious one. 

Let your light so shine before men.
(Matthew 5:16) 

One
of the unanticipated consequences — and, perhaps, a benefit — of being an
outspoken Christian in liberal politics is having people come out of
the closet to me. It isn't a hidden or misunderstood sexual leaning
that they confess, however, but a religious one. "I'm religious, too,"
they'll whisper in my ear as they shake my hand quickly after a
gathering of Democratic activists. One congressional aide identified
himself as an evangelical during a public Q&A, and then told me
afterward that it was the first time he'd "outed" himself in front of a
Democratic crowd. "How did it feel?" I asked. He paused. "A little
scary. But good."

Long before values talk was all the rage, even members of Congress
expressed relief on those rare occasions when religion was an approved
topic of conversation at conferences. But while these reactions are
understandable — it's always reassuring to find fellow travelers — they
are also frustrating. Why do these people feel so alone? Where have all
the religious liberals been?

Keeping our heads down
and our mouths shut, it seems. When the religious right emerged two
decades ago, being religious became not only déclassé, but also
dangerous. No one on the left wanted to be lumped in with the likes of
Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson; nor did they want to cross any lines
by inappropriately mixing church and state. So religious liberals
started secularizing their language and compartmentalizing their
church-going selves. And as groups like the Christian Coalition became
more vocal, these religious liberals withdrew further from public view.

The
parting gift they gave Christian conservatives was an uncontested
public square. Years before the religious right had the membership
numbers to match its boasts of political influence, it was winning
debates simply by controlling the agenda and cornering the market on
faith. It's no surprise, then, that avowedly secular liberals came to
associate all things religious with conservatism and intolerance.

As
a result, religious liberals can feel like an endangered species. They
face endless queries, from liberals and conservatives alike, about
whether it's possible to be both a Christian and a Democrat. And there are more harmful stereotypes. The head of NOW proclaims that religious progressives are not her
political allies. Campaign advisors write off outreach to white
religious voters as a waste of time and resources. The mere mention of
faith issues in print can stir up a sweeping, dumbed-down reaction:
"Stop trying to impose your religion on us!"

It's no
wonder many of us opt to go quietly about our business, saving the
religious talk for our houses of worship. And, of course, that's the
problem. We've forgotten one of the first songs I learned as a child in
a Baptist Sunday school: "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it
shine." At the time, this kind of pronouncement was the scariest part
of my religious tradition. Even then, I was queasy about biblical
literalism, and not too keen on the prohibition on female authority.
But as a deathly shy individual, I was definitely not down with witnessing.

Yet
it's hard to deny that much of what I do now is witnessing, simply
standing up in liberal settings and saying for the record: I, too, am a
Christian. My journalism colleagues used to kid me by calling me "Bible
girl," but it's actually been liberating to take on that alter ego.
When I speak to Democratic audiences, I wear my stylish silver cross
and I talk about playing Bible Daughters (a Go Fish-like card game) on
family vacations. As weird as I may sound to them, at least I don't
sound like James Dobson or Rick Santorum.

And when I
say, in answer to their questions, I'm a Democrat not despite my faith
but precisely because of it, I see their eyes widen in an "a-ha!"
expression. I may want to scream and ask, for the love of God, have you
never heard of Dorothy Day or Abraham Joshua Heschel or Martin Luther
King, Jr.? But I do not. After all, conservatives have spent a good 20
years drumming that powerful tradition out of our collective memory,
and it's going to take a whole lot of us, doing a lot more than
screaming, to take it back.

In the face of
spectacles like Justice Sunday and the assertion that those who
disagree with the Republican Party are waging war against people of
faith, in the face of journalists who conflate "religious" with
"conservative," in the face of liberals who are tempted to oppose all
things religious, we have to demand to be counted.

We
can start by reaching into those bushels to find our flickering lights,
and holding them aloft for all to see. If enough religious liberals let
their lights shine, they would illuminate a world infinitely more
complex and interesting than one in which religion is assumed to be the
sole property of conservatives. Shine on.