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Rosa Heyman Wed, October 7, 2020
From Cosmopolitan
At tonight’s debate, Senator and Democratic vice presidential nominee Kamala Harris turned to Vice President Mike Pence, outrage simmering behind her (impeccably painted, not that it matters-matters) eyes, and said: “Joe Biden and I are both people of faith and it’s insulting to suggest that we would knock anyone for their faith.” The issue at hand was Supreme Court nominee Amy Coney Barrett’s religiosity, and the Senator’s alleged "attacks" on Barrett's beliefs. It’s been reported that the conservative judicial nominee belonged to a religious group called People of Praise, a Christian community in which women were referred to as “handmaids” up until pretty recently. Yeah, so, um.
I don’t believe in God. And I don’t mind, really, that all the Presidents in our country’s history, and certainly in my lifetime, have been openly religious (and entirely Christian), and that “God bless America” is a phrase constantly invoked at the end of most political speeches. But I do mind (and I'm pretty tired of) the fact that faith is a prerequisite for a viable political career in 2020 America.
Unlike those who purport to be "pro" "life," like Pence and Barrett, and so seek to impose their religious beliefs onto my body, I am happy for everyone to enjoy the freedoms of observing and worshipping whomever and however they want—so long as it doesn't come at the persecution of others. Religion is a comfort, and if you need it, have at it. Believe in whatever you'd like! It's a free country, right? But it's also a country in which the separation of church and state, that ol’ chestnut, is law. And yet, in the year 2020, politicians still pay lip service to the concept while also taking great pains to reassure voters that they are decent, God-fearing people just like them. I don't get it.
I mean, I do get it, intellectually. To some, being a person of faith means you’re humble, it means you recognize that there are powers greater than you; if you attend church, it means you value community. It’s a shorthand, a quick way to say “I have morals, thank you for asking.” At least, that’s what we’ve all decided.
Forget that the percentage of Americans who say they are absolutely certain in their belief in God has gradually decreased in recent years, or that in 2018, church membership in the United States reached 50%, an all-time low.
Personally, I'm just ready for something new. I want the next presidential candidate to convince me that their moral code is up to snuff not by placing their hand on a Bible, but by showing me a long track record of fighting for racial justice, working to combat climate change, fixing the ever-increasing wealthy disparity in our country—hell, maybe even being a lil bit pacifist? (Naïve? Maybe, but a girl can dream.)
The thing that really drives me up the wall and makes my brain ooze like lava is the hypocrisy of it all. Donald "the Bible means a lot to me" Trump can't name a single verse. Mike "with God's help, we will restore the sanctity of life to the center of American law" Pence all but forgets his commitment to heartbeats while ripping children away from their parents at the border, or letting over 200,000 people die from the coronavirus. The shallowness of "thoughts and prayers" during moments of national tragedy from the men and women elected, the people who actually have the power to make change and kickstart healing. It's offensive.
We may think of ourselves as “one nation, under god” (that lil phrase was only added to our pledge of allegiance in 1954, btw) but, right now, nothing about our nation is feeling whole, one. Our insistence on religion as a unifying American principle feels just as outdated and illusory as the notion of civility in the White House. And when politicians wield their faith as a means to convince voters that they're "good," it strikes me as downright condescending.
From Cosmopolitan
At tonight’s debate, Senator and Democratic vice presidential nominee Kamala Harris turned to Vice President Mike Pence, outrage simmering behind her (impeccably painted, not that it matters-matters) eyes, and said: “Joe Biden and I are both people of faith and it’s insulting to suggest that we would knock anyone for their faith.” The issue at hand was Supreme Court nominee Amy Coney Barrett’s religiosity, and the Senator’s alleged "attacks" on Barrett's beliefs. It’s been reported that the conservative judicial nominee belonged to a religious group called People of Praise, a Christian community in which women were referred to as “handmaids” up until pretty recently. Yeah, so, um.
I don’t believe in God. And I don’t mind, really, that all the Presidents in our country’s history, and certainly in my lifetime, have been openly religious (and entirely Christian), and that “God bless America” is a phrase constantly invoked at the end of most political speeches. But I do mind (and I'm pretty tired of) the fact that faith is a prerequisite for a viable political career in 2020 America.
Unlike those who purport to be "pro" "life," like Pence and Barrett, and so seek to impose their religious beliefs onto my body, I am happy for everyone to enjoy the freedoms of observing and worshipping whomever and however they want—so long as it doesn't come at the persecution of others. Religion is a comfort, and if you need it, have at it. Believe in whatever you'd like! It's a free country, right? But it's also a country in which the separation of church and state, that ol’ chestnut, is law. And yet, in the year 2020, politicians still pay lip service to the concept while also taking great pains to reassure voters that they are decent, God-fearing people just like them. I don't get it.
I mean, I do get it, intellectually. To some, being a person of faith means you’re humble, it means you recognize that there are powers greater than you; if you attend church, it means you value community. It’s a shorthand, a quick way to say “I have morals, thank you for asking.” At least, that’s what we’ve all decided.
Forget that the percentage of Americans who say they are absolutely certain in their belief in God has gradually decreased in recent years, or that in 2018, church membership in the United States reached 50%, an all-time low.
Personally, I'm just ready for something new. I want the next presidential candidate to convince me that their moral code is up to snuff not by placing their hand on a Bible, but by showing me a long track record of fighting for racial justice, working to combat climate change, fixing the ever-increasing wealthy disparity in our country—hell, maybe even being a lil bit pacifist? (Naïve? Maybe, but a girl can dream.)
The thing that really drives me up the wall and makes my brain ooze like lava is the hypocrisy of it all. Donald "the Bible means a lot to me" Trump can't name a single verse. Mike "with God's help, we will restore the sanctity of life to the center of American law" Pence all but forgets his commitment to heartbeats while ripping children away from their parents at the border, or letting over 200,000 people die from the coronavirus. The shallowness of "thoughts and prayers" during moments of national tragedy from the men and women elected, the people who actually have the power to make change and kickstart healing. It's offensive.
We may think of ourselves as “one nation, under god” (that lil phrase was only added to our pledge of allegiance in 1954, btw) but, right now, nothing about our nation is feeling whole, one. Our insistence on religion as a unifying American principle feels just as outdated and illusory as the notion of civility in the White House. And when politicians wield their faith as a means to convince voters that they're "good," it strikes me as downright condescending.
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