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Charles Jaco has written opinion and commentary pieces for dozens of magazines and newspapers. Each week, read and comment on a fresh on-line version. The discussion page enables you to share your view points world wide. If you would like to make a comment go to the " Join the discussion" link below. If you would like to view past editorials visit the Editorial Archive. Editorial 03/09/01 note: for links to information resources on the new Bush era, go to NewsBoom BEAM ME UP My great-great uncle would save his longest sermons for the hottest days. As farmers chafed in their stiff overalls and starched shirts boiled gleaming white in kettles of lye soap, he would cut loose with hour-long harangues on perdition and damnation. The suffocating August Ozark heat was nothing, he would thunder, compared to the fires of hell. The lean farmers standing at the back of the clapboard Methodist church would lick their cracked lips and think of the cool spring water just outside, where the cast iron hand pump and the polished tin ladle hanging from it promised sweet wet relief from sulfur and brimstone. As the first of them edged toward the door, my uncle would stop his sermon, glare with eyes like pale blue searchlights, and slap a callused palm on the well-worn leather Bible so hard that the pulpit shook. Pointing at them like Moses accusing Pharoah, he would rumble "That's right, sinners! If you can't stand the heat get out of the kitchen!" Never being big on the supernatural, I left the kitchen a long time ago. Mark Twain's description of his relationship with God pretty well sums it up: "We tip our hats when we pass on the street, but we never speak." Unfortunately, the 21st Century is full of people who not only talk to the Almighty, they're on a first-name basis. A little superstition never hurt anybody, whether it's not stepping on sidewalk cracks, saying the Rosary, or believing there's a mother ship hiding behind the moon waiting to take us all to ET land. But look out when, as the Christian weight-lifters say, they put faith into action. Whether it's bodies piled up at Jonestown, the Heaven's Gate house, or David Koresh's compound, woo-woo can get you killed. At the very least, it can drag you kicking and screaming back to the 13th century. The Taliban in Afganistan blow up ancient Bhuddist statues and enslave women in the name of faith. Pat Robertson threatens Orlando with damnation for allowing a gay pride day at Disneyworld. The Pope silences a heretic priest for doubting the Trinity. Suicide bombers kill Jews because they're Jews. Indian Hindus massacre Christians because they're Christians. Indonesian headhunters eat the hearts of Muslims because they're Muslims. Pakistan and India may lob nukes at each other because one's Hindu and the other's Muslim. Call it religion, faith, superstition, belief, or the supernatural, it's like tobacco--comforting and toxic at the same time. The White House Office of Faith-Based and Community Initiatives will funnel tax money to "faith-based" institutions to handle problems like gangs, poverty, and welfare. Already, the theological hogs are jostling to see whose snout gets in the trough. The Scientologists want some of the Federal cash. So do the Moonies. The Anti-Defamation League has said it wants to make sure none of the cash goes to the Nation of Islam. The Church of Extra-Terrestrial Enlightenment hasn't weighed in yet. The theory behind this foolishness is that non-believers have no moral center. Tell that to Twain, Jefferson, Lincoln, Carl Sagan, or a host of others. Compassion, honor, honesty, and moral rectitude seem to be copyrighted by people who profess belief in Jesus, Moses, Bhudda, Mohammad, L. Ron Hubbard, or Ra the Sun God. Self-righteousness leads to lousy public policy. Just ask Afghanistan. Break down the walls between faith and public policy? They need to be topped with razor wire. |
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