This set off a predictable firestorm of debate that is not likely to go away as election season approaches.
The word "cult" is generally regarded as referring to a religion considered by a critic as abnormal or bizarre. The word is usually understood to be applied as an insult or in a negative way. A cult is different from a "sect." A sect is usually a group with distinctive religious, political or philosophical beliefs. You might say that every religious denomination is a sect. A fair-minded person would also say that most religions have beliefs that are abnormal, unusual, mysterious and strange.
Those of us who are Christian don't call ourselves members of a cult. We call our inexplicable things "miracles." What is "normal" about resurrection from the dead, which is at the center of Christian belief? To refer to someone else's religion as a cult probably indicates that the critic's own religion of choice also has very sharply defined and firm beliefs. There's where the rub comes. The more unlike your beliefs are than mine, the more likely you are to think I'm a part of a cult. Imagine this: might members of the accused religion believe that the critic's religion is also a cult?
Readers of this column come from several religious traditions. A rather large number of you are uncertain about religious faith. Some are honestly skeptical. I always keep this in mind. The main thing is that you always know from whence I cometh. And the second main thing is that I treat you, dear reader, with respect and grace. "Grace," now that's a good, biblical, Christian value! And gracious is also the Southern-fried thing to be and do!
Now, for a few thoughts about the perennial issue of religion and politics as we brace ourselves for the campaign season ahead.
Many years ago, while in Dallas, I went to First Baptist Church one Sunday to hear their late, legendary pastor, W. A. Criswell, preach. I remember it well, mostly because I was ushered to a seat on the front pew. This placed me knee-to-knee with the musicians in the orchestra pit. The music was so overwhelmingly beautiful, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I don't remember what Mr. Criswell said, but I was drawn close to God. Years later I was in Salt Lake City. I visited the Tabernacle there in Temple Square. I went not because I was attracted to Mormon beliefs. I'm not. I went because I am a great lover of the music of the famed Mormon Tabernacle Choir. It draws me close to God.
All this came back to me as I began to ponder the Rev. Jeffress' political advice about whether or not one should vote for a Mormon. Maybe it's just quirky me, but I'm not much interested in what ministers say about politics. When I go to church in an election season, I'd rather just hear the music.
Sensible, patriotic, partisan, citizenship is a good thing. But when I watch political talkers on TV these days, I wonder: Does God ever want to give them a swift kick in the seat of their partisan pants? Does God ever want to grab a political hack by the ear, march the culprit to a stool in the corner and make him or her stay there until something other than a talking point emerges? Does God ever want to hurl a bolt of lightning at the very next political operative who tells a lie?" I don't know, but I'm guessing God is registered as a political Independent ... like me!
Harold Bales is a semi-retired Methodist minister who lives in Kannapolis. He's also got a new book out and advance copies are available for sale. For more information, visit www.TheSouthernFriedPreacher.com. Send him an e-mail at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .
