En un movimiento político algo inusual, el senador republicano por Iowa, Charles Grassley, ha iniciado una investigación sobre posibles malas prácticas económicas de los mayores televangelistas de Estados Unidos. De ahí se ha derivado al cuestionamiento sobre una práctica común en la mayoría de los países del continente: las iglesias están eximidas de pagar impuestos, mientras sus líderes, pastores y empresarios se vuelven cada día más ricos. Esta práctica de privilegio para las iglesias se ampara, en Estados Unidos y en América Latina, bajo el aceptado principio de libertad de religión. No está claro, sin embargo, por qué el pago de impuestos por parte de una iglesia podría significar un ataque a la libertad de culto. La prescripción de dar al César lo que es del César y a Dios lo que es de Dios no corre en estos casos. Ni siquiera cuando el César es el pueblo mismo que debe trabajar para mantener estas fabulosas estructuras lucrativas.

En una reciente entrevista en vivo por CNN (7 de noviembre), Kyra Phillips y Don Lemon cuestionaron a nuestro vecino de College Park de Georgia, el multimillonario reverendo Creflo Dollar, por poseer dos Rolls-Royces, jets privados, casas y apartamentos de varios millones de dólares cada uno además de una iglesia multimillonaria enriquecida por las donaciones de ricos y pobres, muchos de ellos con serias dificultades económicas.

Estos ministerios califican como iglesias y no están obligados a llenar declaraciones de impuestos como sí deben hacerlo otras “non-profit organizations” (organizaciones sin fines de lucro). La tradición de justificar las riquezas materiales mientras se predica el desprendimiento de lo mundano para la salvación del alma es muy antigua. La Iglesia católica —con excepciones, como los teólogos de la liberación y otros “curas de barrio”— ha sido, desde hace mucho tiempo, especialista en la materia. En el caso de las megaiglesias protestantes, además de una práctica empresarial, la tradición está apoyada por la ética calvinista: la riqueza no es un obstáculo para entrar al Paraíso sino una prueba de las preferencias de Dios que ha resuelto castigar a los pobres por su pobreza. Este aspecto teológico es muy semejante al karma hindú y sus resultados sociales también: la moral de la casta alta es consumida, principalmente, por las castas más bajas. En todo caso, los pobres sirven para que los ricos ejerzan su compasión pagando periódicamente impuestos morales que más tarde servirán para financiar su retiro en el Paraíso.

Uno de los periodistas de Atlanta le recordó al reverendo Sólar la recomendación que hiciera Jesús al joven rico que fue a pedirle consejo, de desprenderse de sus bienes materiales para entrar al Reino de los cielos. Recomendación que terminó con la tristeza del hombre rico y la observación del Maestro sobre la dificultad que podía tener para entrar al Cielo, como la de un camello que quisiera pasar por el ojo de una aguja. No obstante, el reverendo Dólar razonó que si eso fuese exactamente así, ningún rico podría entrar al Paraíso. De este razonamiento se deduce que el Mesías debía estar bromeando o tal vez exageraba un poco. Está bien que el Hijo de Dios haya bajado a la tierra con un montón de utopías subversivas, pero tampoco era para tanto. Con la realidad no se puede.

Citando artículo y versículo correspondiente, el reverendo el reverendo recordó que, en realidad, Jesús había dicho que por cada cosa que uno se desprenda iba a recibir un premio multiplicado varias veces. Algunos pensamos que Jesús se refería aun premio moral o al Reino de los Cielos; no al Reino del Dinero. Pero siempre es tiempo de aprender. Por esta nueva razón teológica, según el Evangelio del Dinero, la riqueza de un hombre con fe —con fe en el Señor— significa que ha sido premiado por el Cielo por su hábito de desprenderse generosamente de una parte de sus posesiones. No otra es la lógica de la Bolsa de valores: quien invierte, se desprende de algo para multiplicarlo. Ningún empresario razonable espera invertir un dólar en Wall Street, en Amsterdam o en Shanghai y recibir un beso o el ascenso espiritual del que hablaba el Buda. Se espera recibir más de lo mismo: dinero, capitales, beneficios financieros. Aquí, los valores no son valores morales ni un bien es lo que se opone al mal.

En el siglo XVI invertir en indulgencias significaba que por unos cuantos florines de oro un violador podía obtener el perdón del Vaticano y, consecuentemente, el perdón de Dios. Más antiguo, y todavía en curso, es el lavado de la conciencia con el buen uso de la limosna. La institución de la limosna es fundamental, porque el desprendimiento debe ser voluntario y sin comprometer las ganancias. Como dicen muchos conservadores religiosos por televisión, con su eterna ansiedad proselitista, sólo así, por un acto de voluntad, se prueba la bondad del donante. Si la bondad pasa por el Estado, mediante el compulsivo cobro de impuestos a los ricos, esos elegidos de Dios, se comete un sacrilegio. Dios no puede distinguir quiénes pagan impuestos de buena gana y quiénes lo hacen con rencor. Tampoco puede Dios recibir en el Paraíso a toda la Humanidad. Así no se vale. El Paraíso es un resort VIP con acceso limitado, no un derecho democrático. Algunas iglesias, incluso, han definido el número exacto de miembros posibles. Como si en el día de la creación de la Humanidad, Dios se hubiese divertido imaginando un Infierno eterno donde arderían sus pequeñas creaciones, para regocijo de sus pocos preferidos que contemplarían desde las alturas semejante espectáculo de tortura colectiva o, peor, dando vuelta la cara al horrible destino de sus hermanos. No vamos a decir que necesitamos un Dios más humanista, porque se supone que hay Uno solo. No vamos a decirle a Dios lo que tiene que hacer. En todo caso, no haría mal una lectura más humanista de las Sagradas Escrituras para dejar de atribuirle conductas tan sectarias, materialistas y llenas de odio al creador de Todo.

El mexicano José Vasconcelos, fervoroso opositor de la hegemonía norteamericana, recordó en La raza cósmica (1925) una fiesta diplomática en Brasil: “Contrastó visiblemente la pobreza de la recepción americana con el lujo de otras recepciones; pero en honor a la verdad, a mí me parece admirable y digno de imitación el proceder yanqui, pues no tienen los Gobiernos el derecho de hacer derroches con el dinero del pueblo”. Sin embargo, así como Estados Unidos había sido fundado por revolucionarios que se oponían a la tradición monárquica y religiosa de Europa y ahora se identifica con los valores opuestos del conservadurismo ortodoxo, así también el original espíritu “republicano” que fue sinónimo de austeridad y democracia hoy representa la ostentación y el elitismo. Así también el cristianismo primitivo fue todo lo contrario al hoy triunfante cristianismo del emperador (San) Constantino.

Casi al final de la entrevista, el periodista le preguntó si pensaba que Jesús hubiese andado en un Rolls Royce, a lo que el reverendo Dólar contestó, con calma, algo así como: “Pienso que sí. ¿Por qué no? El Señor anduvo en un burro en el que ningún otro hombre antes había andado”.

Dejo al lector que descubra la lógica de este reverendo razonamiento teológico.

Em um movimento político pouco usual, o senador republicano por Iowa, Charles Grassley, iniciou uma investigação sobre possíveis práticas econômicas irregulares dos maiores telepastores dos Estados Unidos. Daí derivou-se o questionamento sobre um costume comum na maioria dos países do continente: as igrejas estão isentas de pagar impostos, enquanto seus líderes, pastores e empresários ficam cada dia mais ricos.

Este privilégio para as igrejas está ampardo, nos Estados Unidos e na América Latina, sob o aceito princípio de liberdade de religião. Não está claro, entretanto, porque o pagamento de impostos por uma igreja poderia significar um ataque à liberdade de culto. A prescrição de dar a César o que é de César e a Deus o que é de Deus não ocorre nesses casos. Nem sequer quando o César é o próprio povo que deve trabalhar para manter essas fabulosas estruturas lucrativas.

Em uma recente entrevista ao vivo por CNN (7 de novembro), Kyra Phillips e Don Lemon questionaram nosso vizinho de College Park, da Georgia, o multimilionário reverendo Creflo Dollar, por possuir dois Rolls-Royces, jatos privados, casas e apartamentos de vários milhões de dólares cada um, além de uma igreja multimilionária enriquecida pelas doações de ricos e pobres, muitos deles com sérias dificuldades econômicas.

Esses ministérios são qualificados como igrejas, e não estão obrigados a preencher declarações de impostos como sim devem fazê-lo outras non-profit organizations (organizações sem fins lucrativos). A tradição de justificar as riquezas materiais enquanto se predica o desprendimento do mundano para a salvação da alma é muito antiga. A Igreja católica tem sido — com exceções, como os teólogos da libertação e outros “padres de periferia”— há muito tempo, especialista na matéria.

No caso das mega-igrejas protestantes, além de uma prática empresarial, a tradição está apoiada pela ética calvinista: a riqueza não é um obstáculo para entrar no Paraíso, mas uma prova das preferências de Deus, que resolveu castigar os pobres por sua pobreza. Este aspecto teológico é muito semelhante ao karma hindu, e seus resultados sociais também: a moral da alta casta é consumida, principalmente, pelas castas mais baixas. Em todo o caso, os pobres servem para que os ricos exerçam sua compaixão pagando periodicamente impostos morais que, mais tarde, servirão para financiar seu descanso no Paraíso.

Um dos jornalistas de Atlanta recordou ao reverendo Dollar a recomendação que fez Jesus ao jovem rico que foi lhe pedir conselho, de se desprender de seus bens materiais para entrar no Reino dos Céus. Recomendação que terminou com a tristeza do homem rico e a observação do Mestre sobre a dificuldade que poderia ter para entrar no Céu, como a de um camelo que quisesse passar pelo buraco de uma agulha. Não obstante, o reverendo Dollar argumentou que se isso fosse exatamente assim, nenhum rico poderia entrar no Paraíso. Deste raciocínio se deduz que o Messias devia estar brincando ou talvez exagerasse um pouco. Está correto que o Filho de Deus baixou à terra com um montão de utopias subversivas, mas tampouco era para tanto. Com a realidade não se pode.

Citando artigo e versículo correspondente, o reverendo recordou que, na realidade, Jesus havia dito que para cada coisa que a pessoa se desprendesse receberia um prêmio multiplicado várias vezes. Alguns pensamos que Jesus se referia ainda a um prêmio moral ou ao Reino dos Céus; não ao Reino do Dinheiro. Mas sempre é tempo de aprender. Por essa nova razão teológica, segundo o Evangelho do Dinheiro, a riqueza de um homem com fé — com fé no Senhor — significa que foi premiado por seu hábito de se desprender generosamente de uma parte de suas posses. Não outra é a lógica da Bolsa de Valores: quem investe, separa-se de algo para multiplicá-lo. Nenhum empresário razoável espera investir um dólar em Wall Street, em Amsterdã ou em Xangai para receber um beijo ou a ascensão espiritual de que falava o Buda. Espera-se receber mais do mesmo: dinheiro, capitais, lucros financeiros. Aqui, os valores não são valores morais, nem um bem é o que se opõe ao mal.

No século XVI, investir em indulgências significava que por alguns florins de ouro um violador podia obter o perdão do Vaticano e, conseqüentemente, o perdão de Deus. Mais antigo, e em curso, é a lavagem da consciência com o bom uso da esmola. A instituição da esmola é fundamental, porque o desprendimento deve ser voluntário e sem comprometer os ganhos. Como dizem muitos conservadores religiosos pela televisão, com sua eterna ansiedade proselitista, só assim, por um ato de vontade, prova-se a bondade do doador. Se a bondade passa pelo Estado, mediante a compulsiva cobrança de impostos aos ricos, estes eleitos de Deus, comete-se um sacrilégio. Deus não pode distinguir quem paga impostos de boa vontade e quem o faz com rancor. Tampouco Deus pode receber no Paraíso toda a Humanidade. Assim não vale.

O Paraíso é um resort VIP com acesso limitado, não um direito democrático. Algumas igrejas, inclusive, definiram o número exato de membros possíveis. Como se no dia da criação da Humanidade, Deus houvesse se divertido imaginando um Inferno eterno onde arderiam suas pequenas criações, para regozijo de seus poucos preferidos, que contemplariam das alturas semelhante espetáculo de tortura coletiva, ou pior, virando a face ao horrível destino de seus irmãos.

Não vamos dizer que necessitamos um Deus mais humanista, porque se supõe que existe Um só. Não vamos dizer a Deus o que tem de fazer. Em todo caso, não faria mal uma leitura mais humanista das Sagradas Escrituras para deixar de lhe atribuir condutas tão sectárias, materialistas e cheias de ódio ao criador de Tudo.

O mexicano José Vasconcelos, fervoroso opositor da hegemonia norte-americana, recordou em “La raza cósmica”(1925) uma festa diplomática no Brasil: “Contrastou visivelmente a pobreza da recepção americana com o luxo de outras recepções; mas em honra da verdade, a mim parece admirável e digno de imitação o proceder ianque, pois os governos não têm o direito de fazer esbanjamentos com o dinheiro do povo”. Entretanto, assim como os Estados Unidos haviam sido fundados por revolucionários que se opunham à tradição monárquica e religiosa da Europa, e agora se identificam com os valores opostos do conservadorismo ortodoxo, assim também o original espírito “republicano”, que foi sinônimo de austeridade e democracia, hoje representa a ostentação e o elitismo. Assim também o cristianismo primitivo era todo ao contrário em comparação ao hoje triunfante cristianismo do imperador (São) Constantino.

Quase ao final da entrevista, o jornalista lhe perguntou se pensava que Jesus teria passeado em um Rolls Royce, ao que o reverendo Dollar respondeu, com calma, algo assim como: “Penso que sim. Por que não? O Senhor andava em um burro no qual nenhum outro homem antes havia montado”.

¿Quien me presta una escalera
para subir al madero,
para quitarle los clavos
a Jesús el Nazareno?

Hace unos días el presidente de Venezuela, Hugo Chávez, se refirió a Jesús como el más grande socialista de la historia. No me interesa aquí hacer una defensa o un ataque de su persona. Sólo quisiera hacer algunas observaciones sobre una típica reacción que causaron sus palabras por diversas partes del mundo.

Tal vez decir que Jesús era socialista es como decir que Tutankamón era egipcio o Séneca era español. No deja de ser una imprecisión semántica. Sin embargo, aquellos que en este tiempo se han acercado a mí con cara de espantados por las palabras del “chico malo” ¿lo hacían en función de algún razonamiento o simplemente en función de los códigos impuestos por un discurso dominante?

En lo personal, siempre me ha incomodado el poder acumulado en un solo hombre. Pero si el señor Chávez es un hombre poderoso en su país, en cambio no es él el responsable del actual orden que rige en el mundo. Para unos pocos, el mejor orden posible. Para la mayoría, la fuente de la violencia física y, sobre todo, moral.

Si es un escándalo imaginar a un Jesús socialista, ¿por qué no lo es, entonces, asociarlo y comprometerlo con la cultura y la ética capitalista? Si es un escándalo asociar a Jesús con el eterno rebelde, ¿por qué no lo es, en cambio, asociarlo a los intereses de los sucesivos imperios —exceptuando el más antiguo imperio romano? Aquellos que no discuten la sacralizad del capitalismo son, en gran número, fervientes seguidores de Jesús. Mejor dicho, de una imagen particular y conveniente de Jesús. En ciertos casos no sólo seguidores de su palabra, sino administradores de su mensaje.

Todos, o casi todos, estamos a favor de cierto desarrollo económico. Sin embargo, ¿por qué siempre se confunde justicia social con desarrollo económico? ¿Por qué es tan difundida aquella teología cristiana que considera el éxito económico, la riqueza, como el signo divino de haber sido elegido para entrar al Paraíso, aunque sea por el ojo de una aguja?

Tienen razón los conservadores: es una simplificación reducir a Jesús a su dimensión política. Pero esta razón se convierte en manipulación cuando se niega de plano cualquier valor político en su acción, al mismo tiempo que se usa su imagen y se invocan sus valores para justificar una determinada política. Es política negar la política en cualquier iglesia. Es política presumir de neutralidad política. No es neutral un observador que presencia pasivo la tortura o la violación de otra persona. Menos neutral es aquel que ni siquiera quiere mirar y da vuelta la cabeza para rezar. Porque si el que calla otorga, el indiferente legitima.

Es política la confirmación de un statu quo que beneficia a una clase social y mantiene sumergida otras. Es político el sermón que favorece el poder del hombre y mantiene bajo su voluntad y conveniencia a la mujer. Es terriblemente política la sola mención de Jesús o de Mahoma antes, durante y después de justificar una guerra, una matanza, una dictadura, el exterminio de un pueblo o de un solo individuo.

Lamentablemente, aunque la política no lo es todo, todo es política. Por lo cual, una de las políticas más hipócritas es afirmar que existe alguna acción social en este mundo que pueda ser apolítica. Podríamos atribuir a los animales esta maravillosa inocencia, si no supiésemos que aún las comunidades de monos y de otros mamíferos están regidas no sólo por un aclaro negocio de poderes sino, incluso, por una historia que establece categorías y privilegios. Lo cual debería ser suficiente para menguar en algo el orgullo de aquellos opresores que se consideran diferentes a los orangutanes por la sofisticada tecnología de su poder.

Hace muchos meses escribimos sobre el factor político en la muerte de Jesús. Que su muerte estuviese contaminada de política no desmerece su valor religioso sino todo lo contrario. Si el hijo de Dios bajó al mundo imperfecto de los hombres y se sumergió en una sociedad concreta, una sociedad oprimida, adquiriendo todas las limitaciones humanas, ¿por qué habría de hacerlo ignorando uno de los factores principales de esa sociedad que era, precisamente, un factor político de resistencia?

¿Por qué Jesús nació en un hogar pobre y de escasa gravitación religiosa? ¿Por qué no nació en el hogar de un rico y culto fariseo? ¿Por qué vivió casi toda su vida en un pueblito periférico, como lo era Nazareth, y no en la capital del imperio romano o en la capital religiosa, Jerusalén? ¿Por qué fue hasta Jerusalén, centro del poder político de entonces, a molestar, a desafiar al poder en nombre de la salvación y la dignidad humana más universal? Como diría un xenófobo de hoy: si no le gustaba el orden de las cosas en el centro del mundo, no debió dirigirse allí a molestar.

Recordemos que no fueron los judíos quienes mataron a Jesús sino los romanos. Aquellos romanos que nada tienen que ver con los actuales habitantes de Italia, aparte del nombre. Alguien podría argumentar que los judíos lo condenaron por razones religiosas. No digo que las razones religiosas no existieran, sino que éstas no excluyen otras razones políticas: la case alta judía, como casi todas las clases altas de los pueblos dominados por los imperios ajenos, se encontraba en una relación de privilegio que las conducía a una diplomacia complaciente con el imperio romano. Así también ocurrió en América, en tiempos de la conquista. Los romanos, en cambio, no tenían ninguna razón religiosa para sacarse de encima el problema de aquel rebelde de Nazareth. Sus razones eran, eminentemente, políticas: Jesús representaba una grave amenaza al pacífico orden establecido por el imperio.

Ahora, si vamos a discutir las opciones políticas de Jesús, podríamos referirnos a los textos canonizados después del concilio de Nicea, casi trescientos años después de su muerte. El resultado teológico y político de este concilio fundacional podría ser cuestionable. Es decir, si la vida de Jesús se desarrolló en el conflicto contra el poder político de su tiempo, si los escritores de los Evangelios, algo posteriores, sufrieron de persecuciones semejantes, no podemos decir lo mismo de aquellos religiosos que se reunieron en el año 325 por orden de un emperador, Constantino, que buscaba estabilizar y unificar su imperio, sin por ello dejar de lado otros recursos, como el asesinato de sus adversarios políticos.

Supongamos que todo esto no importa. Además hay puntos muy discutibles. Tomemos los hechos de los documentos religiosos que nos quedaron a partir de ese momento histórico. ¿Qué vemos allí?

El hijo de Dios naciendo en un establo de animales. El hijo de Dios trabajando en la modesta carpintería de su padre. El hijo de Dios rodeado de pobres, de mujeres de mala reputación, de enfermos, de seres marginados de todo tipo. El hijo de Dios expulsando a los mercaderes del templo. El hijo de Dios afirmando que más fácil sería para un camello pasar por el ojo de una aguja que un rico subiese al reino de los cielos (probablemente la voz griega kamel no significaba camello sino una soga enorme que usaban en los puertos para amarrar barcos, pero el error en la traducción no ha alterado la idea de la metáfora). El hijo de Dios cuestionando, negando el pretendido nacionalismo de Dios. El hijo de Dios superando leyes antiguas y crueles, como la pena de muerte a pedradas de una mujer adúltera. El hijo de Dios separando los asuntos del César de los asuntos de su Padre. El hijo de Dios valorando la moneda de una viuda sobre las clásicas donaciones de ricos y famosos. El hijo de Dios condenando el orgullo religioso, la ostentación económica y moral de los hombres. El hijo de Dios entrando en Jerusalén sobre un humilde burro. El hijo de Dios enfrentándose al poder religioso y político, a los fariseos de la Ley y a los infiernos imperiales del momento. El hijo de Dios difamado y humillado, muriendo bajo tortura militar, rodeado de pocos seguidores, mujeres en su mayoría. El hijo de Dios haciendo una incuestionable opción por los pobres, por los débiles y marginados por el poder, por la universalización de la condición humana, tanto en la tierra como en el cielo.

Difícil perfil para un capitalista que dedica seis días de la semana a la acumulación de dinero y medio día a lavar su conciencia en la iglesia; que ejercita una extraña compasión (tan diferente a la solidaridad) que consiste en ayudar al mundo imponiéndole sus razones por las buenas o por las malas.

Aunque Jesús sea hoy el principal instrumento de los conservadores que se aferran al poder, todavía es difícil sostener que no fuera un revolucionario. Precisamente no murió por haber sido complaciente con el poder político de turno. El poder no mata ni tortura a sus adulones; los premia. Queda para los otros el premio mayor: la dignidad. Y creo que pocas figuras en la historia, sino ninguna otra, enseña más dignidad y compromiso con la humanidad toda que Jesús de Nazaret, a quien un día habrá que descolgar de la cruz.

A few days ago the president of Venezuela, Hugo Chávez, referred to Jesus as the greatest socialist in history. I am not interested here in making a defense or an attack on his person. I would only like to make a few observations about a typical reaction caused by his words throughout different parts of the world.

Perhaps saying that Jesus was a socialist is like saying that Tutankhamen was Egyptian or Seneca was Spanish. It remains a semantic imprecision. Nevertheless, those who recently have approached me with a look of horror on their faces as a result of the words of the “bad boy,” did they do so on the basis of some reasoning or simply on the basis of the codes imposed by a dominant discourse?

Personally, I have always been uncomfortable with power accumulated in just one man. But although Mr. Chávez is a powerful man in his country, he is not the one responsible for the current state of the world. For an elite few, the best state possible. For most, the source of physical and, above all, moral violence.

If it is a scandal to imagine Jesus to be socialist, why is it not, then, to associate him and compromise him with capitalist culture and ethics? If it is a scandal to associate Jesus with the eternal rebel, why is it not, in contrast, to associate him with the interests of successive empires – with the exception of the ancient Roman empire? Those who do not argue the sacrality of capitalism are, in large number, fervent followers of Jesus. Better said, of a particular and convenient image of Jesus. In certain cases not only followers of his word, but administrators of his message.

All of us, or almost all of us, are in favor of certain economic development. Nonetheless, why is social justice always confused with economic development? Why is that Christian theology that considers economic success, wealth, to be the divine sign of having been chosen to enter Paradise, even if through the eye of a needle, so widely disseminated?

Conservatives are right: it is a simplification to reduce Jesus to his political dimension. But their reasoning becomes manipulation when it denies categorically any political value in his action, at the same time that his image is used and his values are invoked to justify a determined politics. It is political to deny politics in any church. It is political to presume political neutrality. An observer who passively witnesses the torture or rape of another person is not neutral. Even less neutral is he who does not even want to watch and turns his head to pray. Because if he who remains silent concedes, he who is indifferent legitimates.

The confirmation of a status quo that benefits one social class and keeps others submerged is political. The sermon that favors the power of men and keeps women under their will and convenience is political. The mere mention of Jesus or Mohammed before, during and after justifying a war, a killing, a dictatorship, the extermination of a people or of a lone individual is terribly political.

Lamentably, although politics is not everything, everything is political. Therefore, one of the most hypocritical forms of politics is to assert that some social action exists in this world that might be apolitical. We might attribute to animals this marvelous innocence, if we did not know that even communities of monkies and of other mammals are governed not only by a clear negotiation of powers but, even, by a history that establishes ranks and privileges. Which ought to be sufficient to diminish somewhat the pride of those oppressors who consider themselves different from orangutangs because of the sophisticated technology of their power.

Many months ago we wrote about the political factor in the death of Jesus. That his death was contaminated by politics does not take away from his religious value but quite the contrary. If the son of God descended to the imperfect world of men and immersed himself in a concrete society, an oppressed society, acquiring all of the human limitations, why would he have to do so ignoring one of the principle factors of that society which was, precisely, a political factor of resistance?

Why was Jesus born in a poor home and one of scarce religious orientation? Why was he not born in the home of a rich and educated pharisee? Why did he live almost his entire life in a small, peripheral town, as was Nazareth, and not in the capital of the Roman Empire or in the religious capital, Jerusalem? Why did he go to Jerusalem, the center of political power at the time, to bother, to challenge power in the name of the most universal human salvation and dignity? As a xenophobe from today would say: if he didn’t like the order of things in the center of the world, he shouldn’t have gone there to cause trouble.

We must remember that it was not the Jews who killed Jesus but the Romans. Those Romans who have nothing to do with the present day inhabitants of Italy, other than the name. Someone might argue that the Jews condemned him for religious reasons. I am not saying that religious reasons did not exist, but that these do not exlude other, political, reasons: the Jewish upper class, like almost all the upper classes of peoples dominated by foreign empires, found itself in a relationship of privilege that led it to a complacent diplomacy with the Roman Empire. This is what happened also in America, in the times of the Conquest. The Romans, in contrast, had no religious reason for taking care of the problem of that rebel from Nazareth. Their reasons were eminently political: Jesus represented a grave threat to the peaceful order established by the empire.

Now, if we are going to discuss Jesus’ political options, we might refer to the texts canonized after the first Council of Nicea, nearly three hundred years after his death. The theological and political result of this founding Council may be questionable. That is to say, if the life of Jesus developed in the conflict against the political power of his time, if the writers of the Gospels, somewhat later, suffered similar persecutions, we cannot say the same about those religious men who gathered in the year 325 by order of an emperor, Constantine, who sought to stabilize and unify his empire, without leaving aside for this purpose other means, like the assassination of his political adversaries.

Let us suppose that all of this is not important. Besides there are very debatable points. Let us take the facts of the religious documents that remain to us from that historical moment. What do we see there?

The son of God being born in an animal stable. The son of God working in the modest carpenter trade of his father. The son of God surrounded by poor people, by women of ill repute, by sick people, by marginalized beings of every type. The son of God expelling the merchants from the temple. The son of God asserting that it would be easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to ascend to the kingdom of heaven (probably the Greek word kamel did not mean camel but an enormous rope that was used in the ports to tie up the boats, but the translation error has not altered the idea of the metaphor). The son of God questioning, denying the alleged nationalism of God. The son of God surpassing the old and cruel laws, like the penalty of death by stoning of an adulterous woman. The son of God separating the things of Ceasar from the things of the Father. The son of God valuing the coin of a widow above the traditional donations of the rich and famous. The son of God condemning religious pride, the economic and moral ostentation of men. The son of God entering into Jerusalem on a humble donkey. The son of God confronting religious and political power, the pharisees of the Law and the imperial hells of the moment. The son of God defamed and humiliated, dying under military torture, surrounded by a few followers, mostly women. The son of God making an unquestionable option for the poor, for the weak and the marginalized by power, for the universalization of the human condition, on earth as much as in heaven.

A difficult profile for a capitalist who dedicates six days of the week to the accumulation of money and half a day to clean his conscience in church; who exercises a strange compassion (so different from solidarity) that consists in helping the world by imposing his reasons like it or not.

Even though Jesus may be today the principal instrument of conservatives who grasp at power, it is still difficult to sustain that he was not a revolutionary. To be precise he did not die for having been complacent with the political power of the moment. Power does not kill or torture its bootlickers; it rewards them. For the others remains the greater prize: dignity. And I believe that few if any figures in history show more dignity and commitment with all of humanity than Jesus of Nazareth, who one day will have to be brought down from the cross.

Translated by Bruce Campbell

The Privatization of God

by Jorge Majfud

Published by redvoltaire.net, 8 de diciembre de 2004

Custom-made for the consumer

In the 17th century, the mathematics genius Blaise Pascal wrote that men never do evil with greater pleasure than when they do it with religious conviction. This idea – from a deeply religious man – has taken a variety of different forms since. During the last century, the greatest crimes against humanity were promoted, with pride and passion, in the name of Progress, of Justice and of Freedom. In the name of Love, Puritans and moralists organized hatred, oppression and humiliation; in the name of Life, leaders and prophets spilled death over vast regions of the planet. Presently, God has come to be the main excuse for excercises in hate and death, hiding political ambitions, earthly and infernal interests behind sacred invocations. In this way, by reducing each tragedy on the planet to the millenarian and simplified tradition of the struggle between Good and Evil, of God against the Devil, hatred, violence and death are legitimated. There is no other way to explain how men and women are inclined to pray with fanatical pride and hypocritical humility, as if they were pure angels, models of morality, all the while hiding gunpowder in their clothing, or a check made out to death. And if the leaders are aware of the fraud, their subjects are no less responsible for being stupid, no less culpable for their criminal metaphysical convictions, in the name of God and Morality – when not in the name of a race, of a culture - and from a long tradition, recently on exhibit, custom-fit to the latest in hatred and ambition.

Empire of the simplifications

Yes, we can believe in the people. We can believe that they are capable of the most astounding creations – as will be one day their own liberation – and also of incommensurable stupidities, these latter always concealed by a complacent and self-interested discourse that manages to nullify criticism and any challenge to bad conscience. But, how did we come to such criminal negligence? Where does so much pride come from in a world where violence grows daily and more and more people claim to have heard the voice of God?

Political history demonstrates that a simplification is more powerful and better received by the vast majority of a society than is a problematization. For a politician or for a spiritual leader, for example, it is a show of weakness to admit that reality is complex. If one’s adversary expunges from a problem all of its contradictions and presents it to the public as a struggle between Good and Evil, the adversary undoubtedly is more likely to triumph. In the final analysis, the primary lesson of our time is grounded in commercial advertising or in permissive submission: we elect and we buy that which solves our problems for us, quickly and cheaply, even though the problem might be created by the solution, and even though the problem might continue to be real while the solution is never more than virtual. Nonetheless, a simplification does not eliminate the complexity of the problem in question, but rather, on the contrary, produces greater problems, and sometimes tragic consequences. Denying a disease does not cure it; it makes it worse.

Why don’t we talk about why?

Let’s try now to problematize some social phenomenon. Undoubtedly, we will not plumb the full depths of its complexity, but we can get an idea of the degree of simplification with which it is treated on a daily basis, and not always innocently.

Let’s start with a brief example. Consider the case of a man who rapes and kills a young girl. I take this example not only because it is, along with torture, one of the most abhorrent crimes imaginable, but because it represents a common criminal practice in all societies, even those that boast of their special moral virtues.

First of all, we have a crime. Beyond the semantics of “crime” and “punishment,” we can evaluate the act on its own merits, without, that is, needing to recur to a genealogy of the criminal and of his victim, or needing to research the origins of the criminal’s conduct. Both the rape and the murder should be punished by the law, and by the rest of society. And period. On this view, there is no room for discussion.

Very well. Now let’s imagine that in a given country the number of rapes and murders doubles in a particular year and then doubles again the year after that. A simplification would be to reduce the new phenomenon to the criminal deed described above. That is to say, a simplification would be to understand that the solution to the problem would be to not let a single one of these crimes go unpunished. Stated in a third way, a simplification would be to not recognize the social realities behind the individual criminal act. A more in-depth analysis of the first case could reveal to us a painful childhood, marked by the sexual abuse of the future abuser, of the future criminal. This observation would not in any way overturn the criminality of the deed itself, just as evaluated above, but it would allow us to begin to see the complexity of a problem that a simplification threatens to perpetuate. Starting from this psychological analysis of the individual, we could certainly continue on to observe other kinds of implications arising from the same criminal’s circumstances, such as, for example, the economic conditions of a specific social underclass, its exploitation and moral stigmatization by the rest of society, the moral violence and humiliation of its misery, its scales of moral value constructed in accordance with an apparatus of production, reproduction and contradictory consumption, by social institutions like a public education system that helps the poor less than it humiliates them, certain religious organizations that have created sin for the poor while using the latter to earn Paradise for themselves, the mass media, advertising, labor contradictions… and so on.

We can understand terrorism in our time in the same way. The criminality of an act of terrorism is not open to discussion (or it shouldn’t be). Killing is always a disgrace, a historical curse. But killing innocents and on a grand scale can have no justification or pardon of any kind. Therefore, to renounce punishment for those who promote terrorism is an act of cowardice and a flagrant concession to impunity.

Nevertheless, we should also remember here our initial caveat. Understanding a social and historical phenomenon as a consequence of the existence of “bad guys” on Earth is an extremely naive simplification or, to the contrary, an ideologically astute simplification that, by avoiding integrated analysis - historical, economic, political - exempts the administrators of the meaning of “bad”: the good guys.

We will not even begin to analyze, in these brief reflections, how one comes to identify one particular group and not others with the qualifier “terrorist.” For that let it suffice to recommend a reading of Roland Barthes - to mention just one classic source. We will assume the restricted meaning of the term, which is the one assumed by the press and the mainstream political narratives.

Even so, if we resort to the idea that terrorism exists because criminals exist in the world, we would have to think that in recent times there has been an especially abundant harvest of wicked people. (An idea explicitly present in the official discourse of all the governments of countries affected by the phenomenon.) But if it were true that in our world today there are more bad people than before, surely it isn’t by the grace of God but via historical developments that such a phenomenon has come to be. No historical circumstance is produced by chance, and therefore, to believe that killing terrorists will eliminate terrorism from the world is not only a foolish simplification but, by denying a historical origin for the problem, by presenting it as ahistorical, as purely a product of Evil, even as a struggle between two theological “essences” removed from any social, economic and political context, provokes a tragic worsening of the situation. It is a way of not confronting the problem, of not attacking its deep roots.

On many occasions violence is unavoidable. For example, if someone attacks us it would seem legitimate to defend ourselves with an equal degree of violence. Certainly a true Christian would offer the other cheek before instigating a violent reaction; however, if he were to respond violently to an act of aggression no one could deny him the right, even though he might be contradicting one of the commandments of Christ. But if a person or a government tells us that violence will be diminished by unleashing violence against the bad guys – affecting the innocent in the process – not only does this deny the search for a cause for the violence, it also will serve to strengthen it, or at least legitimate it, in the eyes of those who suffer the consequences.

Punishing those responsible for the violence is an act of justice. Claiming that violence exists only because violent people exist is an act of ignorance or of ideological manipulation.

If one continues to simplify the problem, insisting that it consists of a conflict produced by the “incompatibility” of two religious views – as if one of them had not been present for centuries – as if it were a matter of a simple kind of war where victory is achieved only with the total defeat of the enemy, one will drag the entire world into an intercontinental war. If one genuinely seeks the social origin and motivation of the problem – the “why” – and acts to eliminate and attenuate it, we will most assuredly witness a relaxing of the tension that is currently escalating. We will not see the end of violence and injustice in the world, but at least misfortune of unimaginable proportions will be avoided.

The analysis of the “origin of violence” would be useless if it were produced and consumed only within a university. It should be a problem for the headlines, a problem to be discussed dispassionately in the bars and in the streets. At the same time, we will have to recognize, once again, that we need a genuine dialogue. Not a return to the diplomatic farce, but a dialogue between peoples who have begun dangerously to see one another as enemies, as threats – a disagreement, really, based on a profound and crushing ignorance of the other and of oneself. What is urgent is a painful but courageous dialogue, where each one of us might recognize our prejudice and our self-centeredness. A dialogue that dispenses with the religious fanaticism – both Muslim and Christian – so in vogue these days, with its messianic and moralizing pretensions. A dialogue, in short, to spite the deaf who refuse to hear.

The True God

According to the true believers and the true religion, there can be only one true God, God. Some claim that the true God is One and he is Three at the same time, but judging by the evidence, God is One and Many more. The true God is unique but with different politics according to the interests of the true believers. Each one is the true God, each one moves the faithful against the faithful of other gods, which are always false gods even though each one is someone’s true God. Each true God organizes the virtue of each virtuous people on the basis of true customs and the true Morality. There is only one Morality based on the true God, but since there is more than one true God there is also more than one true Morality, only one of which is truly true.

But, how do we know which one is the true truth? The proper methods for proof are disputable; what is not disputed is the current practice: scorn, threats, oppression and, when in doubt, death. True death is always the final and inevitable recourse of the true truth, which comes from the true God, in order to save the true Morality and, above all, the true believers.

Yes, at times I have my doubts about what is true, and I know that doubt has been condemned by all religions, by all theologies, and by all political discourses. At times I have my doubts, but it is likely that God does not hold my doubt in contempt. He must be very busy concerning himself with so much certainty, so much pride, so much morality, behind so many ministers who have taken control of his word, holding Him hostage in a building somewhere so as to be able to conduct their business in public without obstacles.

Translated by Bruce Campbell.

Jorge Majfud is a Uruguayan writer. His most recent novel is La Reina de América (Baile de Sol, 2002).