| Having faith, again? |
|
Lieberman set the tone early on in his race--and a devoutly religious tone it was. "That world view that I was raised with is part of why I went into public life, into public service in the first place, to try to make a difference, to improve the world," he told journalist Jim Lehrer in an August interview. Two weeks later, at Fellowship Chapel Church in Detroit, Lieberman called on American citizens to "renew the dedication of our nation and ourselves to God." In the same speech he referred to George Washington's exhortation not to suppose that "morality can be maintained without religion." Then, in an October visit to the University of Notre Dame, the vice presidential candidate said: "At this moment of moral uncertainty, I believe our best hope for rekindling the American spirit and renewing our common values is to have faith again." At first glance, Lieberman appeared to be proposing a renewed embrace of American "civil religion." At Notre Dame he reminded the crowd that "we are after all not just another nation, but 'one nation under God.' " His words echoed the religious language on nickels and in the Declaration of Independence--the rhetorical attempts by the nation's founders to present their cultivated Protestantism in the guise of universal morality. This is our American civil religion. Surely Senator Lieberman did not mean to suggest that a nice Jewish boy like myself should replace my Pirke Avot with Jefferson's The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth? But what Lieberman really represented was something altogether different: the view that for a Jew to help rekindle the American spirit, for a Jew to "have faith again," he would have to be, first and foremost, a Jew--a Jew of Herculean devotion--a Jew like Lieberman. Lieberman walked five miles to the Senate from Georgetown to cast his
votes on Saturdays; Lieberman refused to attend the Democratic convention
that nominated him for the Senate in 1988 because it fell on a Jewish
holy day. With Lieberman professing "his faith" from the vice presidency,
I feared that he could become the standard against which all other Jews
would be judged. Were a non-Jew to see me driving on Shabbat, he might
think to himself that I am "without faith," and thus betraying America.
He might think that I am not doing my duty as an American citizen because
I am not doing my duty as a Jew. What pressure! Having faith, again? |