The beginning of the end of the 'religious right'

I'm late to this, but there's still time for a word on James Talarico's appearance on Jimmy Kimmel's show. It's important, because I don't think most people on the left appreciate how threatening he is. He has a shot at becoming the first Democrat elected to the US Senate from Texas in decades. He presents a chance to reclaim policies favorable to Donald Trump.

But that's not what scares the Republicans. What scares them is a Democrat who has the character and credibility to quote scripture with authority, not only to popularize good policies, like pro-immigrant reforms, but to discredit the GOP's authoritarian project.

While others doubt the outcomes of policies enacted by the Republicans, Talarico doubts their intent – by holding them to the tenets of their faith. "The kind of religion that says you can treat people however you want as long as you have a personal relationship with Jesus is an abomination," he told Jimmy Kimmel last month. "It is a cancer on the body of Christ."

Talarico continued: "Scripture tells us that you can’t love God and hate other people. You can’t love God and abuse the immigrant. You can’t love God and oppress the poor. You can’t love God and bully the outcast. We spend so much time looking for God out there that we miss God in the person sitting right next to us, in that neighbor, who bears the divine image. I was brought up to believe that in the face of a neighbor, we glimpse the face of God.

The implication is that no one can legitimately call themselves a Christian while ignoring, dismissing or profaning the teachings of the Jesus of the Gospels, and any attempt to rationalize such behavior by professing "belief in Christ" is an obscenity in God's eyes.

I can't think of another Democrat who has suggested the religion practiced by the most powerful faction of the GOP is "an abomination." I certainly can't think of one who is also leading his evangelical opponent, Ken Paxton, by four points, according to a new Times poll.

White evangelicals began taking over the Republican Party about half a century ago. Over the years, the GOP has increasingly justified virtually every position, especially on abortion, in religious terms that maximize belief but minimize works. Christians since Christ have debated which is more important. Long ago, evangelicals decided the answer is faith, with works being proof of redemption achieved through faith, not a requirement for salvation.

"Faith alone" is a conservative interpretation of the Gospels that favors the interests of the ruling class. It doesn't ask anyone to challenge the status quo in order to bring the Kingdom of God down to earth. It only asks us to wait patiently for our reward in the afterlife. In that interpretation, loving your neighbor can seem like an option, rather than a commandment. Talarico, who is a seminarian as well as a Senate candidate, knows this. "Don't tell me what you believe," he says frequently. "Show me what you do, and I'll tell you what you believe."

So James Talarico's campaign is a theological argument as well as a political one. More specifically, it is a liberal theological argument that's gaining traction. The religious conservatives who control Texas are seen as corrupt, not only as politicians but as Christians. Talarico is not suggesting Republicans are a "cancer on the body of Christ." Their religion is. He's suggesting they are wrong politically, because they are wrong religiously.

In addition to being sincere and invoking scripture with authority, that's what makes Talarico dangerous. For decades, white evangelicals cemented the idea that their interpretation of the Gospels was The Truth. The gambit worked until they went all-in with a criminal president. Since then, Trump's sadism has revealed the political limits of believing "you can treat people however you want as long as you have a personal relationship with Jesus." Christians got to get back to basics, Talarico is saying. Get right with God by getting right with your neighbor.

To see what might happen to the Republicans' credibility if Talarico's theological argument catches on, consider Dan Patrick, the lieutenant governor of Texas and an "outspoken evangelical Christian." On Twitter last month, commenting on a video in which Talarico is speaking, Patrick said: "James Talarico said, 'You can't call yourself a Christian and reject the stranger seeking asylum at our southern border.' James Talarico is too radical for Texas."

That raises the inevitable question: "Has Dan Patrick – a man who tells anyone who's willing to listen that he's 'Christian first, conservative second and Republican third' – actually read the Bible?" Not only was Jesus an immigrant himself, he was clear about what would happen to those who reject immigrants. "Truly I tell you," Jesus said, "whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me" (Matthew 25:45), and as a consequence you will be "cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels" (Matthew 25:41).

If Talarico, who is literally quoting Jesus, is too radical for Texas, that suggests Jesus is too.

If so, game over – the beginning of the end of "the religious right."

The New Republic's Greg Sargent wrote recently that Trump's barbarism has "opened space for new moral arguments, a new consensus." From that, Greg said, Talarico has been making the case for immigration as a positive good and immigration policy that's humane and just.

While I think Greg is right, I also think his aperture is too narrow. Trump's barbarism has done more than open space for this or that policy innovation. It has opened space for the emergence of a new social movement based in the revival of the Christian faith – new social gospel, you might say – and Talarico seems to be positioning himself as a leading voice.

He told Jimmy Kimmel:

"Matthew 25 tells us Christians exactly how we’re gonna be judged and how we’re gonna be saved – by feeding the hungry, by healing the sick, by welcoming the stranger. I often wonder what would Jesus do if he visited the US Senate. I think he would tell the senators on the floor: 'depart from me. I was hungry and you cut my food assistance. I was sick and you kicked me off Medicaid. I was a stranger and you deported me and my family.'

"And then I think he would flip over those fancy desks on the floor of the US Senate and demand that we take care of all of our neighbors, especially the least of these."