I’ve been thinking more about the conflation of conservatism and Christianity among many people I know. In a recent issue of Newsweek, Michael Gerson describes three evangelical approaches to politics, embodied by a prophet (James Dobson), a priest (Billy Graham), and a kingmaker (Pat Robertson). Gerson argues that all three approaches are declining:

“Leaders such as Robertson mainly exercise broad influence in the imagination of liberals. Evangelicals, particularly younger evangelicals, are undergoing a shift in attitudes. Many have little interest in the self-destructive purity of the prophet or the raw pragmatism of the kingmaker. They remain culturally conservative, but uncomfortable with a harshly judgmental tone in their politics. They find the model of the religious right too narrow and are increasingly motivated by a broader range of social concerns.”

Columnist Andrew Sullivan, meanwhile, was enthusiastic about Gerson’s point of view:

“It seems to me that our society needs Christian witness - on charity, on caring for the environment, on protecting the vulnerable, on seeking peace, on opening dialogue - as much as it doesn’t need Christianist intolerance, politicking and campaigning. It’s especially important, it seems to me, that Christian witness also regain humility and an indifference to power. Forsaking a partisan identity is critical to this.”

Part of the problem, I think, is that a conservative philosophy is largely one of restraint on most government spending , with an expectation that local, voluntary initiatives will do more to assist the poor and downtrodden than any government program. Conservative Christians involved in politics, therefore, project an image of being “against” assistance for the poor, “for” war, and far more concerned with stopping gay marriage than stopping AIDS. They want much of what we call mercy missions to be off the political agenda. Conservatism, in other words, is worlds apart from Christianity — it fosters a space for effective mercy, but it doesn’t embody mercy. Insofar as people identify Christianity with conservative political action, therefore, they are likely to come away with a slanted view of what our faith really means.

It can be problematic, then, when politicians trumpet their Christian credentials; if 90 percent of what a politician stands for doesn’t advance Christian principles, but instead advances conservative principles, then perhaps the perception of Christianity, among the unchurched, is done a disservice when they perceive the politician to embody what a Christian is all about. Likewise, of course, when a notable Christian endorses such a politician. C.S. Lewis once remarked that what we need are not more Christian writers, but more great writers who are Christians. Perhaps the same applies to politicians.

The best innoculation, I think, to a wrong perception that Christianity is equivalent to conservatism is the mercy work of many good churches. For every politico a non-Christian sees claiming the Christian label, we want him to see a hundred Christians in his community, quietly, humbly doing the work of our Father. The more we can accomplish that, the harder it will be for people to identify Christianity with whatever happens to be popular among politicians who claim to act on Christ’s behalf. “You will know them,” Christ said of the good and the bad, “by their fruits.” My prayer, in the current political season and the decades to follow, is that more non-Christians will come to know us in that way, by lifechanging encounters with loving Christians.

Ever since Pat Robertson’s endorsement of Rudy Giuliani, media outlets have scrutinized the move as a signal that the conservative Christian vote is fractured and confused. Columnist Joe Loconte says such a critique is flawed and naïve:

Let’s start with Pat Robertson. Anyone who thinks that Mr. Robertson is a weather vane for religious voters simply hasn’t been paying attention. The most influential voices in conservative Christianity have excoriated him for his chronic absurdities.

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Regardless of how you feel about Pat Robertson, you have to appreciate his blunt prioritization: “To me,” he said in his endorsement of Rudy Giuliani for president, “the overriding issue before the American people is the defense of our population from the blood lust of Islamic terrorists. Our second goal should be the control of massive government waste and crushing federal deficits.”

Left off the list, among competing priorities for Christians, was stopping the practice of murdering the unborn. Giuliani is, though he downplays it as the Republican primaries near, in favor of allowing the practice. How inconvenient.

Unless, that is, one believes with Robertson that protecting our hides and pocketbooks is more important than protecting defenseless innocents. I wonder, however, if those are even really his priorities, or if they are simply the best way to dress up a fundamental fact driving many Christians to the Giuliani camp, which is that he is beginning to represent the best hope of defeating Hillary Clinton. I’m hard-pressed to think of any subject more likely to send sweet little church ladies into a fit of profanity than that woman.

Perhaps this is uncharitable to Pat Robertson, though I’m not sure which casts him in a more damning light: elevating self-protection and tax rates above protecting the unborn, or simply listing the selling points of the guy he’s backing, not because of the man’s principles, but because he embodies the best chance of beating a despised opponent and maintaining a venal party’s grip on executive power.

This being politics, of course, we are urged to be practical — the only perfect candidate is Jesus, after all, and when he finally returns there ain’t going to be no election. What’s more, there’s only so much a pro-life president can do, anyway. Back the candidate with the best chance of beating the bad guys, is the implicit message, though after numerous sex scandals, a pernicious addiction to federal earmarks, and failure to enact meaningful reform in virtually any policy area, I’m beginning to wonder if the party evangelicals have backed for years is any better than the party we routinely demonize. It’s not so clear to me, in other words, that it’s pragmatic to remain loyal to a band of partisans who make a mockery of Christ every time they refer to themselves as Christians.

What’s more, why all this concern with practicality? It’s always fascinating to hear people who claim to believe in the parting of the Red Sea, the feeding of the 5,000, and the Resurrection, among other natural impossibilities, wax eloquent about the imperative of practicality whenever elections roll around. If Christians have some sort of mandate to be active in the public arena, then at the very least it seems we ought to bring Christ along with us. Where in the Gospels are we called to stop government waste? How does that squeeze out protecting the voiceless? Are we called to obsess over our own survival? Are we called to embrace evil because it is lesser? What pathetic witnesses we make, when begin calculating electability quotients, and lending our names to those who oppose our fundamental beliefs, out of a desire for protection.

But perhaps I’m being impractical. We wouldn’t want to stand on principles only to see a heathen elected, would we? Or worse yet, someone who might raise our taxes? Standing on principle might mean the Muslims get us. We’d be martyred, for crying out loud, and all because we couldn’t compromise a little. Heaven forbid, and let the unborn fend for themselves.