Why Doesn't G.W.Bush Go to Church?

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WHY W. DOESN'T GO TO CHURCH.

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by Amy Sullivan

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Post date 09.30.04 | Issue date 10.11.04 E-mail this article

 

ost Americans are aware that George W. Bush is a religious man. He

is, after all, the man who presided over a religious revival of

sorts at the Republican National Convention. He is the man who has

pioneered what could be called cardio-diplomacy, judging world

leaders--and, at times, entire nations--by their "hearts." He is the

subject of at least four spiritual hagiographies currently in

bookstores, and one religious documentary ("George W. Bush: Faith in

the White House"). Most famously, Americans know him as the man who,

when asked to cite the philosopher who had the greatest influence on

him, named Jesus Christ.

 

What most--including many of the president's fiercest supporters--

don't know, however, is that Bush doesn't go to church. Sure, when

he weekends at Camp David, Bush spends Sunday morning with the

compound's chaplain. And, every so often, he drops in on the little

Episcopal church across Lafayette Park from the White House. But the

president who has staked much of his domestic agenda on the argument

that religious communities hold the key to solving social problems

doesn't belong to a congregation.

 

It should be a politically intriguing story. Bush is one of the most

explicitly religious politicians in American history. Both of his

presidential campaigns have used religion to appeal emotionally to

voters. The entire philosophy behind his signature

slogan, "compassionate conservatism," rests on the belief that

religious communities have a unique ability to tend to the nation's

social ills. And yet, after the flood of coverage around Bush's

first--and only--visit to a neighborhood church during inauguration

weekend in Washington, D.C., no one has bothered to report on the

president's whereabouts on Sunday mornings.

 

Around Washington, D.C., it's considered bad form to point out that

Bush doesn't regularly attend church. "You don't have to go to

church to be a good religious person," argue his defenders. And

they're right. They have made much political hay, however, over

polls that indicate Democratic voters attend church less frequently

than Republicans, so even the most brazen feel compelled to offer

explanations for Bush's absence from church membership rolls.

 

The first excuse conservatives provide is that Bush can't possibly

be expected to have time to go to church, what with being leader of

the free world and all. Yet, during Jimmy Carter's four years in the

White House, he found time not only to attend a Baptist church in

the Washington, D.C., area, but to teach Sunday school there as

well. For a presidential delegator like Bush--who has freed up

enough time to spend approximately one-third of his presidency on

vacation--finding a few hours for church should be a snap.

 

But, even if Bush had the time for church services, supporters

protest, the security precautions necessary for a presidential visit

would drive congregants away. This is the exact same argument the

Reagan White House trotted out to explain why the patron saint of

the religious right hardly ever attended church from 1981 to 1989.

Bomb-sniffing dogs, metal detectors, and security personnel, so the

theory goes, would pose an onerous burden for the average

church. "The president wants to avoid the sort of major weekly

disruption that would be caused if he went to church," says David

Aikman, author of A Man of Faith: The Spiritual Journey of George W.

Bush.

 

As it happens, I attended Foundry United Methodist Church for

several years during the late '90s when the Clintons were members

there. The only imposition was the extra ten seconds it took to walk

through a metal detector. Parishioners did not leave the church in

droves; on the contrary, many were pleasantly surprised to find that

the Clintons played an active role in church life, particularly

while Chelsea was involved in the choir and youth group.

 

If time and security aren't the reasons, what excuse does that

leave? The very fact that the president doesn't attend church, some

leading conservatives insist, is proof of what a good Christian he

is. Unlike certain past presidents they could name but won't--ahem,

cough, Bill Clinton--Bush doesn't feel the need to prove his

religiosity. "This president has not made an issue of where he goes

to church," says Michael Cromartie of the Ethics and Public Policy

Center. "I find it refreshing that we don't have a president coming

out of church with a large Bible under his arm." Conservatives

relish this opportunity for a little gratuitous Clinton-bashing. In

private, however, they admit the explanation doesn't hold up. "I

really don't get it," one prominent Bush partisan told me. "There's

no reason why the president couldn't find a church around here if he

wanted to."

 

 

 

n truth, Bush probably doesn't spend Sunday morning watching "Meet

the Press" or wrestling with The New York Times crossword puzzle. He

no doubt observes the Sabbath in his own way, as do millions of

Americans who identify themselves as religious but don't attend

church. Bush has been shaped by a "small-group" mentality,

emphasizing a one-on-one relationship with God over the experience

of Christian fellowship in a community.

 

Or it could be that Bush's faith, while sincere, is not terribly

deep. Aikman, who had significant access to Bush confidantes while

writing his book, has said that he "could not get from anybody a

sort of credo of what [bush] believes." Nevertheless, Aikman pressed

on by "intuit[ing]" Bush's faith and presenting as evidence of the

president's deep spiritual commitment his fondness for carrots and

jogging (apparently a response to the scriptural admonition to treat

the body as a temple for God) and the politeness of White House

staffers ("though manners are not specifically connected to George

W.'s personal religious faith, it was as though the discipline he

brought to his own life of prayer and Bible study filtered down into

the work habits of everyone who worked with him").

 

It shouldn't really matter. A president's religious habits often

reveal far less about his faith than the decisions he makes. But,

more than any other president, Bush has staked his political

reputation on being a devout man of faith. The implied and often

explicit responsibility for one another that undergirds

congregational life is at the heart of Bush's faith-based policy

agenda. The fact that he isn't himself a member of a congregation

should be relevant.

 

It's not as if political reporters have ignored the church-going

habits of Bush's opponent. During the "John Kerry Wafer Watch," they

have done everything short of inspect the senator's molars for

evidence of any unswallowed Host. Hyperbole? A recent Kerry campaign

pool report included this observation: "Both Mr. and Mrs. received

communion, taking the host from the priests in their hands (others

took direct to mouth). They spent ample time on the kneeler."

 

When Bush moved to Washington in early 2001, many religious

observers bandied about the question of which church the incoming

president would attend. Four years later, the answer is hidden in

plain sight: The emperor has no church.

 

Amy Sullivan is an editor of The Washington Monthly.