Saving Us from the Gospel of the Woke

‘L ove is love.” “Science is science.” Homes and offices in Washington, D.C., must display every politically correct lawn sign there is. Around the corner from St. Matthew’s Cathedral, a full-size mural painted on a building declares that not only do “Black Lives Matter,” but “Black Trans Lives Matter.” Who decides these things? According to the Good Book, the Declaration of Independence, the U.S. Constitution, the Bill of Rights, and the Universal Declaration on Human Rights, to name a few, all lives matter. So why are we identifying some of the vulnerable for protection but not others? Could it be because we are trying to find meaning? Could it be because we need religion, and these lawn signs and murals give a sense of belonging? And could it be that “Love is love” and “Science is science” is pure ideology that doesn’t mean what it purports to?

This was the gist of remarks made by Los Angeles Archbishop José Gomez in a recent talk at a conference in Madrid. He was asked to speak about some of the movements that seem to be playing a role that religion might otherwise play — “social justice,” “wokeness,” “identity politics,” “intersectionality.” To understand them as pseudo-religions is the only way to fully grasp what we’re dealing with, but they are drawing so many young people and others in. They are “replacements and rivals to traditional religious belief,” he said. In seeking to replace traditional religion, he posits that this is the woke “salvation story”:

We cannot know where we came from, but we are aware that we have interests in common with those who share our skin color or our position in society. We are also painfully aware that our group is suffering and alienated, through no fault of our own. The cause of our unhappiness is that we are victims of oppression by other groups of society. We are liberated and find redemption through our constant struggle against our oppressors, by waging a battle for political and cultural power in the name of creating a society of equity.

It’s worth noting that Archbishop Gomez, who is currently president of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, was born in Mexico. He leads the biggest and most diverse archdiocese in the United States, ministering in 40 languages. He’s not speaking from an ivory tower, oblivious to the human suffering of which he speaks. A constant voice for the unborn and immigrants, he did not deliver a screed against left-wing causes, as some have suggested on the Interwebs. He’s a pastor thinking through what is going on in the world today and how to engage it.

“Of course, we all want to build a society that provides quality, freedom, and dignity for every person. But we can build a just society only on the foundation of the truth of God and human nature,” Gomez said. The leading theories and ideologies of the day are “profoundly atheistic,” in his view. “They deny the soul, the spiritual, transcendent dimension of human nature; or they think that it is irrelevant to human happiness. They reduce what it means to be human to essentially physical qualities — the color of our skin, our sex, our notions of gender, our ethnic background, or our position in society.” These secular movements “are causing new forms of social division, discrimination, intolerance, and injustice.”

His point isn’t a political one, but the recent Virginia gubernatorial results suggest that people might just agree with his prognosis and are already pushing back against it. Take former governor Terry McAuliffe, one of Bill Clinton’s closest aides in the White House. He campaigned at an abortion clinic during his failed effort to return to the governor’s mansion. If science is science, we wouldn’t let him pretend these clinics provide mere health care. He also spoke against parents having a say in their children’s education (which, I suppose, is ideologically consistent with pitting a mother against her unborn child). One of the leaders of the pack of “momma bears” against him was former Wall Street Journal reporter Asra Nomani, a Muslim reformer who traditionally voted Democrat. While these trending secular movements divide, there is opportunity for unity. This is about the essence of our culture, not party politics.

“I see only too clearly how bad people are,” Gomez said, quoting Dorothy Day. And he added:

I wish I did not see it so. It is my own sins that give me such clarity. But I cannot worry much about your sins and miseries when I have so many of my own. . . . My prayer from day to day is that God will so enlarge my heart that I will see you all, and live with you all, in His love.

That’s countercultural. We don’t have all the answers. We are not the ones we have been waiting for. There’s a certain confidence that comes with humility. While giving voice to “individual conscience and tolerance, we need to promote greater humility and realism about the human condition,” Gomez said. “Acknowledging our common humanity means recognizing our common frailty. The truth is that we are all sinners, people who want to do the right thing but often do not.”

Rather than keep running in the rat race of normal, with the proper signs in the windows, Gomez told us, we have an opportunity to take a few steps back and renew our confidence in the Judeo-Christian values that helped set us on straighter paths in our ongoing journey — encouraging virtue in a robust civil society fueled by gratitude.

This column is based on one available through Andrews McMeel Universal’s Newspaper Enterprise Association.