I must be an acrobat

—            U2, “Acrobat”

I am not now, nor have I ever been a subscriber to Playboy magazine.

I have, however, been to the Playboy mansion. Once.
It was about five years ago and I was there to interview Hugh Hefner — about God.

Now I realize that the Playboy mansion is an unlikely spot to go looking for spiritual insight, but I believe I learn the most interesting things about God sometimes in the places some people say God isn’t supposed to turn up. That discussion with Hef was enlightening, provocative and troubling, but rich and valuable. I was blessed by the time I spent with the octogenarian Playboy, and privileged to witness the openness and candor with which he talked about faith and doubt, joys and regrets, doubts and his eternal hopes.

So when I thought about writing a something to coincide with this Lenten and (subsequently Easter) season, I was not entirely surprised to find fodder for deep reflection in the pages of Playboy.

The November 1976 issue to be exact. That’s where the classic, lengthy interview with then-presidential candidate Jimmy Carter, just before he was elected, appeared. In it, Carter talks openly and authentically about his Christian faith, and, moreover, the reporter, Robert Scheer, paints a complicated, faceted, fascinating picture of a man of navigating the treacherous political waters of public service.

At the time, such a deep exploration of a politician’s faith was groundbreaking. Nowadays, a kind of spiritual litmus test for the presidency is par for the course. Revisiting the 36-year-old piece on Carter the -Christian-and-the-candidate made me long for the time when such explorations were new and fresh.

In Scheer’s lengthy profile, Carter comes across as a man of devout, abiding faith – the kind that is a compass for every area of his life and, yes, his politics. But Carter isn’t a theocrat. He’s not trying to bring everyone else (including his rather ribald campaign staffers) in lock step with his own beliefs. He’s kind and more than tolerant. He accepts people for who and what they are and if he’s interested in proselytizing, his approach is to lead by example, and not a doctrinaire, iron fist.

Carter rose to prominence during the turbulent early hours of the Civil Rights movement, confronting insidious and violent racism of his home state of Georgia as it wrestled to become what he called the “New South.”

Scheer doesn’t portray Carter is a messianic figure or a perfect man who ever makes decisions for the greater good and in love. Carter is weak and faulted and, the reader feels, that is part of what makes him so appealing and authentic.

One passage in particular in Scheer’s story gave me pause – a catalyst to take stock not only of how we assess public figures, but also of my own heart and soul.

“The real heroes of the era were less then 10 miles up the road in either direction from his home all his life, taking the most terrible punishment, and [Carter] won’t admit that he shunned them like nearly everyone else. Like all of us,” Scheer wrote. “Carter is addicted to the theory that we progress by stressing our virtues rather than by dwelling on failures; this is the major theme of his campaign speeches. There’s undoubtedly some merit to this approach, but it seems to me that it includes serious learning from past error.”

Would that we all would understand the truth of that statement.

We may be believers, but our belief is sometimes shaky. We may be redeemed, but we are far from perfect creatures.

None of us wants to be defined by our worst moments. And our faith tells us that God doesn’t define us that way, either. That doesn’t mean, however, that we should try to obscure our shortcomings, inconsistencies and failures, whether moral, ethical or of conscience.

Lent, which begins in most of Christendom in a few days, is the period during which we believers are meant to be preparing ourselves for the coming Eastertide. We are supposed to take stock, prayerfully. Repent. Prepare our hearts and souls for the resurrection. Lent is the time when we should be the most honest with ourselves and with God. Look our sins and shortcomings and failures straight in the eye.

As I understand it, the point of the Easter story — of Jesus’ suffering, death and resurrection — is that we can’t fix ourselves by ourselves. We cannot live a perfect life that would earn our place in the kingdom.

Lent points to Easter and the point of Easter is grace.

We can’t do it by ourselves. In fact, it’s nothing that we do ourselves that remakes our hearts and minds into the kind of perfection that God deserves from the people he loves (and who are supposed to love God).

Our leaders (civil or religious) should not be expected to live perfect, consistent lives any more than the rest of us should. We are all hypocrites. We are all conflicted. We all make mistakes.

To pretend otherwise is a lie that cheapens the grace that goes before us all.