Pluralism: A Civic Responsibility
Week of Monday, November 12, 2001
My wife, a second grade teacher, tells me that the educational
code of our state mandates a “patriotic observance” of some sort the first
period of each day. For the record, she is not in compliance. Clearly,
our state wants to inculcate among our youngest citizens a sense of
political patriotism or civic obligation to the common good of the larger
community (city, state, country). The Pledge of Allegiance, says my wife,
would fulfill this requirement. Part of that Pledge reads that we are “one
nation...indivisible.” But what is the basis of our national unity amidst
all our religious plurality? Out of all our variegated manyness
(E Pluribus) where does our country find a oneness (Unum)?
Some people appeal to a religious or theological unity, such as we
see in some Islamic states (Iran, Saudi Arabia) or, to a lesser degree, in
ethnically homogeneous nations that make explicit appeals to blatant
religious and ethnic nationalism (Russia or Serbia). During our four
years in Moscow I was always irritated by the Russian proverb, “to be
Russian is to be Orthodox,” as if there was no difference between personal
faith and civic responsibility.
In a Christian version of this appeal to religious unity, some
believers insist upon thinking about America as a “Christian country” and
demanding political and legislative concessions to reflect that. Take
these three examples from Diana Eck's new book
A New Religious America
(2001). From 1947–1954 the National Association of Evangelicals
campaigned for an amendment to the Constitution that would read, “This
nation divinely recognizes the authority and law of Jesus Christ, Savior
and Ruler of Nations, through whom are bestowed the blessings of Almighty
God.” In 1992 Arkansas governor Kirk Fordice created a stir when he
referred to America as a “Christian nation,” a statement he later
renounced. Finally, in September 2000, the Family Research Council
denounced the first-ever Hindu invocation given at the US House of
Representatives, saying it would lead to “ethical chaos” and lamenting
that it signaled a drift from our Judeo-Christian roots. Later it issued a
retraction.
For the United States there are at least two problems with
appealing to Christianity as a basis for national unity. First, our
founding fathers wisely set up a secular government that separates church
and state. More practically, as we saw in my
essay last week
our country is home to 30 million citizens of non-Christian
faiths (and increasing by about a million a year), or, in an age of
increased secularization, no faith at all. But even though religion cannot
be the basis for our country's unity, clearly our substantial religious
diversity has ramifications for our national unity.
Eck likes to tell her students that if they want to see the
political implications of our country's new and radical religious
diversity, just attend the meetings of your community's city council,
school board or zoning committee. Or think for a moment about the issues
now faced by the armed services and the everyday workplace. Should
architectural plans for a Buddhist temple in southern California be made
to comply with the local Mediterranean look, or granted a variance so it
can express its indigenous, Asian look? Should a Muslim be able to wear
religious garments or be excused to pray at work? How would you feel about
Hindus purchasing a vacant building in your local downtown and renovating
it for a community center? Is a Wiccan chaplain in the military as
legitimate as a Baptist one? These issues, as Eck points out, are no
longer restricted to New York City, San Francisco or Chicago; they have
become commonplace in Toledo, Fort Wayne, Cedar Rapids, and the like.
It's true that our country has distinctly Christian roots,
historically speaking, and there is no reason this should not be honored
with genuine gratitude. But unfortunately, this historical legacy has
often meant one of two things for our non-Christian citizens: exclusion or
assimilation.
An exclusionary bias in our civic life has often made immigrants
feel like they should stay home or go home. Sometimes we fear people who
are different from us, often out of sheer ignorance, as Eck admits about
herself: “When I graduated from the top ten of my class in Bozeman Senior
High School, I could not have provided even the most rudimentary account
of the fundamentals of Islam or Hinduism, even though these constitute the
faith and worldviews of nearly half the world's population.” Ignorance
leads to passively absorbing denigrating stereotypes, often fueled by
media. In its more vicious manifestations, exclusion leads not only to a
general xenophobia but to acts of harassment, vandalism and civil rights
abuses. Think of groups like the KKK and their ilk.
Christians are hardly the only ones to blame here, either, as Eck
points out. Harvard's President Abbott Lowell suggested a restrictive
quota to redress the “Jewish problem” after alarmists pointed out that the
number of Jewish men there increased from 6% in 1908 to about 21% in 1922
(the faculty rejected the plan). Here at Stanford the director for the
Catholic Community has told me similar stories of widespread admissions
discrimination against Catholics in Stanford's early history.
Assimilation is a more benign but equally inadequate response to
our non-Christian citizens. It tells the Sikh or Muslim to come, but leave
your differences behind. Blend in. The most powerful and popular
expression of the assimilationist posture is the melting pot metaphor. In
the melting pot “differences dissolve into the common pot, adding their
flavors but losing their form.” For a more erudite version, there is John
Quincy Adams, who urged that immigrants to America “must cast off the
European skin, never to resume it. They must look forward to their
posterity rather than backward to their ancestors.”
To a greater or lesser degree, the exclusivist and assimilationist
stances solve the problem of radical religious diversity by a homogenizing
inclusion, expecting all Americans to conform to the reigning and
generally white, Protestant and Christian ethos. But Eck is surely
correct when she argues that our nation's oneness can never be based in
religion; it can only be a civic unity that is genuinely pluralistic, that
is, that embraces religious (or ethnic, racial, cultural, etc.) diversity
and difference as constituents of a new, political community. The truly
pluralist appeal thus says, “come as you are, pledged only to the common
civic demands of citizenship.”
Our country's widespread religious diversity thus calls for
genuine political pluralism.
If we lived in a totalitarian state such as the former Soviet Union, the
government could enforce toleration for all. But as Eck points out, in a
democracy tolerance cannot be imposed and a siege mentality of retreat
into religious xenophobia must be rejected. We need, she urges, “energetic
bridge builders.” Is it too much to hope and pray that Christians can be
in the forefront as blessed, civic peacemakers and community-builders
(Matthew 5:9)?
Regardless of the theological convictions believers have about
people of other faiths, or how an atheist or secularist thinks about
religion, “the covenants of citizenship to which we adhere place us on
common (civic) ground.” Christians should expect no privileged status and
demand no more or less than a level playing field. We must recognize the
inherent tension in the First Amendment (1791), “the free exercise of
religion calling for the protection of religious groups, while the non
establishment of religion prohibiting any such special treatment.”
In a world in which religious identity often tears countries apart
and is presumed to be the most divisive difference of all, the challenge
is great.
How we move from being a nation that puts up with what are
infelicitously called `aliens' to being a nation that welcomes
newcomers of every religion—how we move from being strangers
to neighbors—is one of the greatest challenges of America's
new century of religious life. Nothing is more central to most religious
traditions than hospitality toward the neighbor, even toward the stranger.
The good news is that there are, in fact, Christian leaders making
positive contributions. The evangelical theologian Os Guinness, for
example, was a leader in crafting the Williamsburg Charter (1988) as a
basis for the civic pluralism that Eck envisions. Its preamble issues “a
call to a vision of public life that will allow conflict to lead to
consensus, religious commitment to reinforce political civility” in such a
way that our radical religious diversity becomes an asset and not a
liability.1
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Unless otherwise noted, all
references in this essay are from Diana Eck, A New Religious America
(San Francisco: Harper, 2001).
The Journey with Jesus: Notes to Myself
Copyright ©2001 by Dan Clendenin. All Rights Reserved.
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