Religious Symbols and The Ten Commandments
Rabbi David E. Ostrich, Congregation Brit Shalom
Clergy Column for The Centre Daily Times
Published August 11th

 As an outsider looking in—a non-Christian looking at Christianity, I am often struck by the curious adaptability of Jesus: how the man whom Christians consider the Messiah is portrayed in a stunning variety of different ways.  

Some describe Jesus as a “turn the other cheek” believer in peace, while others describe him as a violent and aggressive war lord. Some see the Gospel Jesus as an ascetic—someone who denies the pleasures of the body, while others insist that he encourages voracious sensualism. Some say that Jesus preferred the poor and lowly, while the Prosperity Gospel preaches that wealth is God’s reward to the faithful. Some Christians see Jesus as a feminist, but others see him as a dominator of women. And though PETA has proclaimed that Jesus was a vegan, Matthew 14 suggests that he was at least a Pescatarian. It goes on and on and leaves me wondering what the actual Jesus would think about all these interpretations. How can they all be from the same Bible? Do these different “Jesuses” come from attempts to understand the New Testament, or has the word “Jesus” become just a symbol for strong human opinions?  

I wonder if this remarkable adaptability comes from a reverse-reading of John 1.14. When the text says, “And the Word became flesh,” it expresses John’s belief that Jesus was an earthly manifestation of God’s Word—that he was the Biblical ideal. However, reversing the text—taking human ideals and putting them onto Jesus—results in a very malleable deity. “If I believe it, then Jesus must have believed it, too” is a painful reversal of Genesis 1. Instead of God creating the human in the Divine Image, people are trying to create God in whatever image they find appealing.  

Unfortunately, this same flexibility can afflict other religious symbols. Take, for example, the Ten Commandments—which my home state of Louisiana is now displaying in every school classroom. Most would agree that the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5) are vitally important, but one wonders if the government of Louisiana is actually going to observe them or enforce them—or just put them up as a symbol. Will the state legislators stop taking the Lord’s Name in vain? Will they observe the Seventh Day Sabbath? Or, if they believe that the Biblical Sabbath has been replaced by Sunday, the Lord’s Day, will they make sure that stores and restaurants are closed so that everyone can rest? Will they refrain from committing adultery? Will they stop bearing false witness—that is, lying about political opponents? And what about coveting? Will they stop coveting the safety and freedom of those at the margins of society? In other words, does the posting of the Ten Commandments represent genuine religious aspirations—or is it merely a symbolic gesture, a case of style over substance? 

We humans have this tendency—trying to superimpose our human prejudices onto God, and it is an equal-opportunity evil, a temptation that lures and threatens every religion. There are all too many tragic examples—around the world and in history—of God being “used” to justify human opinion. 

Some may look at the panoply of conflicting religious opinions and reject the whole affair. If religions cannot agree, what good are they? I, however, look at it differently. I think of religion as a tool, and, like any tool, it can be used for good or evil. Religion is the tool with which humans approach the Divine and try to relate to it. We have, as William James puts it, an undefinable, non-empirical feeling of a Presence—an “undifferentiated sense of reality,” and religion is the human response to this Presence. We are all trying to fathom the unfathomable—to figure out Infinity. Sometimes we do better than others. 

When we can empty ourselves of ego and prejudice, we allow God to enter. When we do not—when we foist ourselves onto God, we are less than our holy potential.