
Another sign Pat Robertson hasn’t really been following Jesus for decades.
Back in the heyday of what we call “the priest abuse scandal” (as if someone’s abusing priests, rather than it being about certain priests abusing children) I was teaching at a Christian school, and I suggested that my sixth grade class pray for the church because of what we’d have to go through as a result.
“But we’re not Catholics,” one of the kids said. (She didn’t know that half her class was Catholic. She just assumed this, since the school was connected with a Pentecostal church.)
“That doesn’t make any difference,” I pointed out. “Catholics are Christians, and to every pagan, a Christian is a Christian, and we’re gonna get flak for what other Christians do.”
Same deal with Pat Robertson. He’s a charismatic Evangelical Protestant, which means there are three groups that are gonna have to denounce him for calling for the assassination of Venezuela’s president. To the pagans, this is just another example of typical Christian lunacy. To the Christians—well, televangelists are an embarrassment anyway, and Robertson is one of the worst of the bunch.
The 700 Club started off as evangelism disguised as the Tonight Show, and evolved into evangelism disguised as Meet the Press (by way of Sabado Gigante). If you’ve seen it recently, it’s truly awful. “News clips” show you something that’s going on in the world, followed by Robertson’s take on what God has to say about it, followed by one of my biggest pet peeves, sermons disguised as prayer. Then there are commercials—for Robertson’s products. And since he founded the channel (then sold it to Fox, who sold it to Disney), his contract makes
Thanks to the free airtime, the large audience of gullibles and shut-ins, the large personal fortune, and the occasional political dabbling, the public widely assumes that Robertson is taken seriously among all Christians. This is like saying that all Christians follow the Pope, or read James Dobson’s books, or listen to every Jesse Jackson speech, or are card-carrying members of the now-defunct Moral Majority, or watch every Mel Gibson movie. Such are the stereotypes that are assumed by the masses, and the mass media doesn’t help.
So when Robertson calls for an assassination—again; he’s done this before—it’s big news.
Praying for the death of one’s enemies is pretty consistent with some of the more violent Psalms, but I would argue that the Psalms are not an expression of God’s will so much as they’re a reflection of how people have prayed to God in the past, and how they might pray to God now. One can pray for their enemies’ demise; but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to take a sniper team down to Venezuela and take potshots at a foreign leader. Contrarily, Jesus told us to pray for our enemies, and bless those who persecute us; and Paul told us to pray for those in authority (regardless of how evil they may be; remember that the emperor in Paul’s day was Nero).
If we tried to kill our enemies rather than praying for them, then Paul, back when he was a persecutor of the church, might have been whacked by a zealous Christian long before Jesus got ahold of him. How messed up would that have made things?
Calling for assassination is just another sign that Robertson hasn’t really been following Jesus for decades. He’s been following influence, money, and political power. He’s been stealing authority from God for all these years by convincing people that his interpretation of God is the only right one. If the man was truly following Jesus, he’d have repented for his comments immediately, and not as the result of public outcry. (And remember, his first response was, “I meant kidnap him, not kill him,” which isn’t any more consistent with scripture—or the videotape.)
Sure, God’s been doing stuff in spite of Robertson. God’s in the redeeming business, and he’s watching out for his kids in spite of the heretics they watch on TV. I just wish they’d listen to God, not The 700 Club.