The so-called “Christian vote” is making its quadrennial appearance in election coverage, as if “Christians” were a voting bloc that debated candidates' religious credentials and cast a unified vote for the candidate deemed most compatible with the gospel.
Reality, of course, suggests exactly the opposite. Despite our frothing, we rarely apply the gospel to our politics, except to mine Scripture for stones to cast against each other.
In all likelihood, the holy season of Lent will come and go without any of its themes — repentance, confession, submission, humility — being brought into the political arena. Instead, like everyone else, we Christians will examine candidates on the usual criteria: likability, trustworthiness, smarts, appearance, policies and shared prejudices.
Those who are predisposed to baptize their preferences will find Bible verses to justify their views and votes. Most will simply claim a mantle — Republican or Democrat, liberal or conservative — and wear it into the voting booth.
Let's imagine, however, that we actually consulted the Gospels first. In what direction would the five Gospel passages widely read on Sundays in Lent lead us?
On the first Sunday of Lent (Lent 1), we would read Matthew 4:1-11, the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness, when he won a victory over worldly appetites and denounced Satan's seductive dangling of power as a worthy quest.
On Lent 2, John 3:1-17 would tell us that true life arises from Spirit, not “earthly things,” and that God's way is grounded in love and new life.
On Lent 3, we would read in John 4:5-42 how Jesus crossed the boundaries of tradition and bigotry and commended God's living water and honesty.
On Lent 4, we would read in John 9 how Jesus violated the conventional wisdom of his day and incurred the wrath of the religious establishment.
Finally, on Lent 5, we would read John 11:1-45, the raising of Lazarus, and how Jesus confounded expectations by doing what God required, not what his friends wanted.
If we took those readings seriously, we would ask different questions of the candidates.
Each seems quite willing to do whatever it takes to gain power, from abandoning their principles to casting “race cards” and “gender cards.”
We should ask them: If this is how deceitful and crafty you are in seeking power, how would you actually use power? Is power so important to you that you would demonize another human being to attain it?
As they spit venom at each other, we would ask if love and its companions (mercy, compassion and justice) have any place in their politics. Are we left merely to judge whose poison seems less toxic?
As they court voters by promising to reinforce borders, boundaries and privileges, we should ask: Is there any vote you would risk losing in order to serve the outsider?
As they denounce opposing views and promise more division, not less, we should ask: Is there any room in your world for compassion and healing?
As they test the winds of favor, we should ask if they have any vision that isn't for sale.
I don't expect for one moment that such questions will emerge from our bitterly divided Christian movement. But they should. If we took the Gospels as seriously as we take our opinions and preferences, we would ask better questions of those who seek our votes.
Tom Ehrich is a writer, church consultant and Episcopal priest based in New York.