The Gospel According to Bill Maher

I saw this interview with Bill Maher this morning, and I have been thinking about it all day. It concerns his new movie “Religulous.” The title is a combination of the words “religion” and “ridiculous.” You can probably guess from there the content of the movie.

I like Bill Maher. I vehemently disagree with him, but I like his honestly irreverent approach to things that make him mad. And in this case the thing that makes him mad is faith.

During the course of the interview Maher compares the doctrine of the Trinity to the tenets of Scientology in basic ridiculousness, and raises issues like why God doesn’t just defeat the devil once and for all, and why God has to speak to prophets in the desert when it is convenient that no one else is around, instead of making His own announcements. He decries religious people who seem not to know much about religion – his example is that very few people could give him a straight answer about the relationship between the devil and the Antichrist.

And, because it’s Bill Maher, the discussion turns political, and he says a lot of things that may make you mad. Ultimately, this interview, and the message of the movie, seems to be a call for uncertainty. Maher contends that it is being absolutely sure of religion that causes all the problems inherent in religion. That it is the belief that one has all the answers which is – to use a phrase from a previous post - the root of all evil. This is the mantra of our times.

And then Maher said something that I have been thinking about all day – at about 2 minutes and 50 seconds into part 2 of the interview, he says (confesses?) “I understand that not having faith is a luxury of having a good life. If you’re in prison, and a guy says, ‘All I got in here is Jesus’ – I kinda get that.”

And this reminded me of something Someone Else once said:
“It is not those who are healthy who need a physician, but those who are sick…for I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” (Matthew 9:12-13) The Gospel is not the gospel until you are desperate for good news. It is the condemned, the guilty, the unclean, who can appreciate the grace of God and Jesus’ offer of a seat at the table.

And this is what blows my mind about Jesus. He’s already been there. Anger and frustration at people who used religion for political gain? Decrying those who were sure they had all the right answers about God? Jesus already went there. He Himself later became condemned, a prisoner, a death row inmate. He said “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Now, none of that necessarily answers Maher's questions. I think there are answers to those things, but I also think it isn't logical conundrums and existential questions that keep people from Christ. I think, ultimately, it comes down to whether you know that you need a Savior, and are asking the question, "How then can I be saved?" And that I think, is what the people of faith are to be about - to see that Jesus and the Gospel continues to go there. To the sick, the blind, the lame, the prisoner, the sinner – that He continues to be the light in every dark place.

Various Threads, Tied Together...

This year I got a little behind on my National Geographic reading, so I've been slowly catching up. Last month I read the December 2007 issue, which had a story about Bethlehem. Israel has built a massive wall around three sides of it, strictly guarded to protect Jerusalem from terrorist attack. The Christians inside Bethlehem have been systematically moving away, as they no longer feel safe. And just outside the city where Jesus was born, refugees find that there is no room for them - but these refugees are Muslim. Hatred breeds in the Holy Land on top of the cave where Love was born incarnate.

A few months later, someone responded to this article in the letter section of the magazine with: "Perhaps it is not money, but religion that is the root of all evil. Thank God I am an atheist!"

The snarky part of me wants to point out to this person that atheistic societies and governments tend to be at least as oppressive, corrupt, and violent as religiously led nations, and the same is likely true for individuals.

Then, I thought, perhaps this person is on to something - with a caveat. The letter-writer makes a common misquote of 1 Timothy 6:10, which says "the love of money is the root of all evil." Money itself is spiritually neutral - how you feel about it is not.

So with the correct phrasing in hand, is the love of religion the root of all evil? What's the difference between the love of religion and the love of God? That's the question that the Old Testament prophets sought to answer. It's a question the apostle Paul apparently spent some time sorting out. And it's the question at the heart of death of Christ.

One of the most revealing passages about the enemies of Jesus is John 11:4-50: "Therefore the chief priests and the Pharisees convened a council, and were saying, 'What are we doing? For this man is performing many signs. If we let him go one like this, all men will believe in him, and the Romans will come and take away our place (i.e. the temple) and our nation.' But a certain one of them, Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, 'You know nothing at all, nor do you take into account that it is expedient that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation should not perish."

Brennan Manning comments on this passage in The Ragamuffin Gospel: "A terrible thing has happened to Caiaphas. Religion has left the realm of respect for person. For Caiaphas sacredness has become institutions, structures, and abstractions. He is dedicated to the people, so individual flesh and blood men are expendable. Caiaphas is dedicated to the nation. But the nation does not bleed like Jesus. Caiaphas is dedicated to the Temple - impersonal brick and mortar. Caiaphas became impersonal himself, no longer a warm human being but a robot, as fixed and rigid as his unchanging world.

The choice usually presented to Christians is not between Jesus and Barabbas. No one wants to appear an obvious murderer. The choice to be careful about is between Jesus and Caiaphas. And Caiaphas can fool us. He is a very 'religious' man.

The way we are with each other is the truest test of our faith. How I treat a brother and sister from day to day, how I react to the sin-scarred wino on the street, how I respond to interruptions from people I dislike, how I deal with normal people in their normal confusion on a normal day may be a better indication of my reverence for life than the antiabortion sticker on the bumper of my car."