Holier Than Thou - The Decline Of Religion, The Rise Of Progressivism, And The Need To Believe

Arden Forrest had grown up in a religious home - not a fundamentalist one, a Bible-thumping Southern Baptist one, nor an Opus Dei Catholic one but one of firm rectitude, belief in God The Almighty, his Risen Son, and the hope of Life Ever After. 

 

Religious enough, his parents’ secular friends would say, way too much in a world struggling for balance, one riven by political divisions, international conflicts and bloody tribalism.  God and treacly prayers would do nothing for this world, only dedicated, committed progressive action.  There was only one algorithm - the more you invested, the more the world gained. 

Of course the years of the Twentieth century belied this belief.  Despite those who had hoped for the coming of a new, verdant, peaceful age, life was as violent as ever - Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot were only some of those who ravaged society and murdered millions. 

Yet the Forrest family never gave up hope, subscribed to the most radical policies of social justice and reform, and were defiant in their criticism of those who 'sat pretty' and let the depredations of evil men go unchecked.

As it happened, the Forrest family was descended from solid Puritan stock, Cotton Mather, the Salem clerics, John Davenport and the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Alden’s ancestor Hiram Forrest was a scion of Calvinism, a preacher, theologian, and a religious influencer. In fact he did more to maintain the religious integrity of the new world colonies than anyone before him. 

'No one is before God', he shouted from the pulpit of the Old North Church in Boston, and everyone listened to his ringing words.  Revolution, nationhood, social probity, legitimacy meant nothing if a man's soul was not the sole possession of God. 

Religion was a way of life for Hiram, the center of his life and very existence, the sine qua non of being alive, of being human, of being a man.  Nothing could shake his faith and his belief.  God ruled supreme, Jesus Christ was his son and our savior and nothing mattered beyond that.

Somehow that faith became corroded and beyond recognition in the course of time.  Each successive Forrest became more secular until the present day when they abjured God and believed only in practical, political action.  They had become progressives. 

At the same time belief itself had not diminished one bit.  They were as passionate about civil rights, the black man, women, and the gay and transgender American as their ancestors were about the Gates of Heaven and the Fires of Hell. 

Belief felt just as good for Alden as it had for Hiram - a plenitude of good feeling, bounty, and purpose.  And the end - Utopia - was just as if not even more real than any fragile assumption about celestial bliss. 

The inner city was his church, the projects his pew, LaShonda and Pharoah his acolytes, the smell of weed and burning tires his frankincense.  He left his suburban Washington home every morning with a smile of gratitude - he was anointed to do the nation's work, the world's work.  There would be no immediate rewards, for the journey would be a long one, but the satisfaction would be just as great. 

When he saw the derelict on MLK Avenue in Anacostia, he felt like Martin not Jesus, but allied to both in love and hope.  

'Fuck yo' lily white ass', shouted a voice from B-Block of the Anson Lewis Homes, 'Whatchoo doin' up in here, white boy?' to which Alden only waved a greeting.  Jesus himself had been spat upon, reviled, and cursed on his way to Jerusalem. 

 

He shook his head.  This was no time or place for religious metaphor.  It was the time for solidarity, persistence, and commitment.  He and Jesus were similar travelers in two of life's important missions, so why not compare the two? Ah, religion again, that familiar bugaboo. 

Now, to be fair, this socio-religious crisis was not uncommon among progressives, many of whom drew inspiration from their Biblical teaching.  It didn't matter that they had left religion in the past, discarded it as irrelevant to the job at hand; they saw parallels, and there was nothing wrong in drawing them. 

Progressivism at heart is a religion with its own theology, doctrine, doxology, ministers, altars and communion so it is no surprise that it is adopted as such - a faith, a foundational value, a spiritual endeavor.  It has never been about politics. 

Conservatism operates from a different set of principles.  While there is certainly philosophy behind it  - individualism, enterprise, work, discipline, etc. - political vision is the driving force.  One might be a rock-ribbed conservative, but the idea does not suffuse body and soul.  It is not the be all and end all as progressivism is for its true believers.  It is a matter of expediency, not salvation. 

Alden barely escaped Anacostia, the slums, and the projects.  He was clearly not wanted there regardless of the higher purpose of his visit.  He was among the lepers, the fallen, the disreputable, the needy who were an unwashed, ignorant, backward lot...Here he stopped himself and these niggling, heretical thoughts.  The black man was to be the human race's savior, not its perennial blight...and no matter what, they needed his help. 

Such was the plight of the progressive like the early Christian - beset on all sides by heretics and unbelievers - but this was no time to default.  The black man would rise to his place atop the human pyramid, the earth would cool, and peace would reign.  Just give them time. 

'How was your day?', asked Alden's wife Corinne as she put the meat loaf on the table. 

Bob smiled at the irony - the soggy meat loaf and the terraces of the Anson Lewis Homes - what could be more fitting? The greatest challenge since Jesus H. Christ and the indifferent, ridiculously white meals of his dumpy wife.

He wanted to bless himself or kneel, or say a prayer for sustenance, but he had left all that nonsense behind, so he opted for chamomile tea...no, on second thought a Jack Black...and be done with it.