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The Leap of Faith: In a speech several months ago, Vice President Al Gore said that when he's promoted to the top job in 2000, faith-based organizations would be "integral" in his administration's fight against poverty. He argued that overcoming problems connected to poverty "takes something more than money or assistance -- it requires an inner discipline and courage, deep within the individual." And he expressed the belief that "faith in itself is sometimes essential to spark a personal transformation -- and to keep that person from falling back into addiction, delinquency, or dependency." So far, so good. First-rate, actually, coming as it did from the probable next leader of a party and school of thought that have viewed any notion that religion has an esteemed place in public squares, not to mention in public policy, as akin to a land, sea, and air assault on the wall separating church and state. The vice president spoke of one woman who turned her life around after being "mentored...through prayer and Bible study." And he referred to another woman for whom religious conversion enabled her to "pry open the vise grip of drug addiction." But then the vice president came to his ACLU senses -- he experienced what might be described as an earthbound epiphany -- when he vowed that none of what he had to say suggested proselytizing in any way. This despite the fact that religiously inspirited organizations are in the very business of saving lives by seeking to save souls. I learned about Gore's speech from Marvin Olasky, the invaluable University of Texas scholar who wrote The Tragedy of American Compassion, the most influential book about social policy of the now-closing decade. In one sentence, Olasky's thesis is that we did a much better job of helping poor folks when, as a society, we relied a lot more on religious institutions and a lot less on the "tender mercies" of government. In light of Olasky's premise, it's not difficult to figure out his take on Gore's proscription. "Leading to faith -- that's the definition of proselytizing," Olasky said in a Twin Cities speech in June. "Only in a postmodern time when words and logic have been devalued would government leaders think they can promote FBOs [faith-based organizations] as they demand a shut-off of the engine that makes good FBOs go." Or, as I might put it with less metaphoric flair, if the very object in helping people escape bitter lives is to get them to convert to something better, how is it possible to even talk about serving them without accepting the fact that something called proselytizing is implicit in the exercise? For the sake of national comity and cohesion, there's much to be said about downplaying the immutability of many of our theological differences. But as with everything else, semantic subterfuge has its limits. Olasky's critique is not only solid, it's also timely, insofar as George W. Bush is certain to focus on the place of religious organizations at least as much as Gore over the coming year-plus. Actually, I know of no governor who is as interested as Bush in taking social advantage of religious institutions. It's no accident, for instance, that Chuck Colson's Prison Fellowship has been contracted to run an entire wing of a state prison in Texas. Nevertheless, it's here that my most visceral sensibilities as a religious minority kick in. For regardless of what I've just argued, the inescapable fact is that the mere word 'proselytize" almost always sounds ugly and frightening to members of a tribe (mine, for instance) who have been on the receiving end of millions of not-always-gracious solicitations, stretching over millennia, to break with their heritage. How to strike a right balance between respecting a man or woman's beliefs (whatever they may or may not be) and urging their change? Let me suggest two very abbreviated rules. The first goes without saying: Those who are moved to bring gospel and word to those in distress ought not seek to enter the most sacred recesses of an individual without being invited to do so first. No human trespassing, no matter the power of the call, in the most private of realms. A second commandment applies to a wholly different crew: skeptics who are anything but enthused by the growing acceptance of a public role for faith-driven organizations. Lighten up. Try to contain yourself on those occasions when "God talk" spills into polite society. Despite what your most instinctive dreads might whisper, have faith that tolerance abounds in this most blessed nation. Have confidence that the wall distinguishing religious from governmental realms is in no danger of tumbling down. Also keep in mind the countless renewed lives of fellow citizens if we do come to take better advantage of all our resources. -- Mitchell B. Pearlstein is president of Center of the American Experiment, a conservative think tank in Minneapolis. |