"How would Jesus vote?" and other stupid questions

Charles M. Sheldon's novel In His Steps, first published in 1896, proposed the idea of asking the question, "What would Jesus do?" when facing moral and ethical decisions. Over the years, there have been numerous variations on this basic theme. Some have been helpful, to a certain extent. Others have been less so, to a greater extent.

Several years ago, a group of environmentally-minded evangelicals came in for some justified ridicule when they embarked on a campaign to encourage "responsible" choices in automobiles with the question, "What would Jesus drive?" Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, traversed the Judean countryside primarily on foot, and was known to walk across large bodies of water before hopping into a small boat. Automobiles were not a part of the first century world in which he lived. To imply, as this particular group did, that driving an SUV is somehow less Christ-like than driving a Kia was a stupefying display of spiritual hubris. As one critic whimsically pointed out, Jesus would have been much better off traveling with his twelve disciples in one SUV than in a caravan of three or four compact cars.

This comical example of the "What would Jesus do?" principle illustrates the danger in carrying that principle too far. It is one thing to be confronted with a personal moral or ethical dilemma and seek prayerfully to discern how Jesus would have one respond. It is quite another to presume to speak for Jesus in a way which fits one's personal political agenda, particularly when the issue in question has no clear parallel with the actual historical period during which Jesus walked the earth. An even more illustrative, and politically charged, variation on the theme is the often asked question, "How would Jesus vote?"

Where does one begin to dissect the theological, historical, and Christological ignorance inherent in such a question? One is asked to assume, for the moment, that Jesus is a 21st century American living in a representative republic, rather than a first century Middle Eastern Jew living under the subjugation of a Roman imperial autocrat. Participatory democracy was not a part of the world in which Jesus lived. It may well be, however, a consequence of the world he changed forever through his life, death, and resurrection. The historical, geographical, social, and political setting of Jesus' first advent was no mere happenstance. It was an integral part of God's redemptive plan. Had Jesus not come in the flesh as a first century Middle Eastern Jew, there would be no 21st century America. From all indications, the human race as a whole would have wiped itself out centuries ago, long before anyone would have thought to put the issue to a vote.

The point here is not to question the propriety of applying one's faith to questions of politics, morals, or ethics. It is, rather, to caution against carrying an elementary principle too far. Sheldon's original version of the question, on the surface, did provide a practical way of applying the Christian faith in all of life's circumstances. But, beneath that surface, it illustrated Sheldon's elevated view of Jesus as moral example and his diminished view of Jesus as Savior and Redeemer. Present-day variations on the theme, likewise, tend to reflect a low Christology and an ahistorical understanding of Jesus' redemptive work.