Southern Comfort?
There’s an interesting Texas politician popping up in the news these days: James Talarico. My Australian daughter brought him to my attention back in January. In February, Stephen Colbert interviewed Talarico, but CBS blocked the interview from airing on network television. Consequently, it emerged big-time on YouTube—with over 5 million views in 24 hours. But if you still haven’t heard of him, he’s worth a look.
Talarico is on the ballot in the Texas Democratic primary—which will have taken place by the time this column goes to press. But I don’t pay much attention to Texas elections—I’ve enough trouble keeping track of what’s going on in my own territory.
My interest in Talarico is his public stance on religion. He’s a Christian. Currently a Presbyterian seminary student. And even though I’m quite comfortable without religion—and have resented having to hide my views in bible-thumping communities I’ve called home—Talarico’s brand of religion speaks to me.
He says Christianity is simple. But not easy. It asks only two things of its followers: Love God. And love your neighbor—regardless of color, gender identity, spiritual affiliation, country of origin. Or any of those other things some self-proclaimed Christians seem to feel are grounds for disparagement these days.
While there was no teaching of religious faith in my family of origin, I was taught the second tenet continually. Often by example. My folks sometimes brought strangers into our home to feed them. Or occasionally house them for short periods of time.
Once, I was having dinner with friends when my parents were not at home. I responded to a knock on the front door and found a man who said he’d just been released from prison and was hungry. I was nervous—but invited him inside. He declined the invitation to sit at our table, so we—my friends and I—packed him a bag of food and sent him on his way.
I would not have done this without my parents’ example. I’m not even sure I would still do it. But it felt right. Basic human kindness.
But loving your neighbor is not just about bringing strangers into one’s home. It’s a call for tolerance, even—or especially—when people don’t look, think, or act just like us.
Time magazine quotes Talarico: “America is not a Christian nation. It is a nation where you are free to be a Christian or a Buddhist or a Hindu or a Jew or a Muslim or a Sikh or an agnostic or an atheist. America was started by religious minorities fleeing religious persecution. That’s the promise of America: a multiracial, multicultural melting pot.”
And adds: “It’s a promise that we are still struggling to fulfill today.”
Hearing this message from an outwardly religious politician gives me a sliver of hope, which has been in short supply lately, as I’ve watched our government favor one religion over all others. Witness the mandate that the Ten Commandments be displayed in taxpayer-funded schools. And Governor Sanders’s insistence that Christian symbols shall be displayed on capitol grounds.
I am a firm believer in separation of church and state. In fact, I’d say I’m “religious” about it. I don’t want my government telling me who or what is holy. And I wouldn’t want my place of worship dictating how I should vote.
Whether Talarico wins or loses the Texas election, I hope he and his current interpretation of Christianity will stick around. It’s the first time in a while I’ve been comforted by a publicly delivered religious message.