From James Taranto c…

From James Taranto comes a pointer to this article by Jill Porter, who really can’t stand it when Christians do something heroic.

The story of Ashley Smith, the Atlanta hostage who soothed a rampaging killer into surrendering without further violence, is a riveting tale of grace and humanity.

Would that it had remained just that.

Instead, it’s become a testimonial for an evangelical Christian book and an endorsement of the theology embraced in the book – and that leaves me feeling alienated from what should be an inspiring tale of human transcendence.

Transcending what we are as humans is precisely what the book in question, “The Purpose-Driven Life”, and the Christian’s spiritual walk in general is supposed to do. “Human transcendence” is an oxymoron akin to lifting oneself up by one’s own bootstraps. In order to do better than we thought we could do, we need to trust God, and He lifts us up. Now, I’m not saying that an atheist might not have done something similar, though only because I’m willing to give the benefit of the doubt. Without a hope and strength beyond our own humanity, it would be far more difficult.

But Ms. Porter would rather not know why Ashley Smith did what she did, or how she got the courage to do it. Yet that’s one of the most important parts of the story. Why isn’t knowing her source of strength, and the book she used to find it, not worth knowing about? What an odd way of looking at this.

Smith’s composure in the face of life-threatening danger enabled her to persuade Brian Nichols to turn himself in after he allegedly murdered four people earlier in the day in Atlanta.

Where did she get that composure? What strength was she tapping in to?

Afterwards, she said that she’d read to Nichols from “The Purpose-Driven Life,” a bestselling book that eschews the self-help ethos so prevalent in pop literature to say that salvation can only be found in God.

I imagine that if Ashley had read from “I’m OK, You’re OK”, Ms. Porter would be singing it’s praises rather than demeaning it.

The author of the book, Rick Warren, pastor of a California church, praised Smith for her actions and said:

“Jesus sometimes calls us in some of the most difficult situations for him and the message he represented while on this Earth.”

Suddenly, the near miracle that occurred in Smith’s apartment because of her calm and compassion is infused with the rhetoric of Christian evangelism.

Ms. Porter simply cannot allow Ms. Smith to be who she is, and can’t bear the thought that there might be something to this whole Jesus thing. She calls it a “near miracle”, yet won’t allow for who Ms. Smith considers the author of that miracle. If Ms. Smith’s Christianity was the major cause of her calmness and composure, how can we not infuse Christian evangelism, especially since, for some of the time, that’s precisely what Ashley was trying to do; evangelize Brian Nichols. It’s part and parcel of the whole story.

This sounds eerily like the excising from history books of religious motivations on the part of great people in the past; Columbus, Washington, Lincoln, and on and on. Their motives must be obscured or ignored in order not to show what a positive force Christianity played in their lives. Ms. Porter is trying to rewrite history that’s barely a week old. Why can’t she just accept it the way it presents itself?

And suddenly, those of us who are wary of the increasing influence born-again Christians have on our political and cultural life feel a regrettable discomfort with this wonderful story.

It always winds up being political, doesn’t it? In addition, she doesn’t want to hear anything good that Christianity might have contributed to our culture. (Any bets on whether she considers herself “tolerant”?)

Perhaps Smith’s saint-like serenity was based in her evangelical Christianity. Perhaps her courage was derived from the message in the book.

I’m in awe of her spiritual and emotional resources, whatever their source. And that she used them to spare Atlanta from any more carnage is remarkable.

But I know many profoundly religious people who could never have responded the way Smith did when Brian Nichols put a gun in her side and tied her up.

I also know a few completely irreligious people who might have disarmed Nichols through bravery, poise and calm.

So to summarize: Other people may have reacted differently, so we should ignore Ms. Smith’s motivations and source of strength. How in the world does the latter follow from the former? Just because people are different and react differently to the same situation, this doesn’t nullify Ashley’s motives. This is a complete non-sequitur.

And the truth is that Nichols was receptive to his hostage’s spiritual message, saying he thought Smith was “an angel sent from God,” she later told reporters.

“And that I was his sister and he was my brother in Christ.”

Let’s face it, another murderer might have scoffed at her appeals, laughed at her religiosity. Shall we glorify Nichols for his receptiveness?

We should be thankful that God prepared him. This does not require us to glorify what Nichols did.

And if, as some disciples of the book have said, God used Smith to reach Nichols, exactly where was God earlier in the day when he slaughtered four innocent people?

I’ve covered that angle here. Ashley Smith could’ve asked the same question when her husband was stabbed to death, but she’s been given a glimpse of the bigger picture that we often times don’t get to see. Doesn’t mean there isn’t one.

This kind of story always reminds me that true heroes live among us, unrevealed perhaps even to themselves until chance or fate intervenes and they rise to the occasion in a way that inspires deep admiration.

Ashley Smith has given us a true heroic model to contemplate, while fake cultural “heroes” like Michael Jackson and Mark McGwire decompensate in front of our eyes.

But the universality of Smith’s appeal is being compromised by the religious propaganda that seems to infuse the story more and more.

I’m glad to see Ms. Porter knows a true hero when she sees one. Pity she prefer to stifle the hero when asked about her source of strength.

The truth is, there could be any number of reasons why Nichols responded so remarkably to Smith.

Smith’s aunt suggested it was because she, too, had lived a troubled life.

“She felt the sadness and she felt the aloneness – she could relate,” Smith’s aunt told the New York Times.

“I don’t think a socialite or a squeaky clean could have done that.”

So, no one really knows what alchemy occurred inside Smith’s apartment to end Nichols’ murderous rampage.

Yes, there were any number of reasons why Nichols responded to Smith, and reasons he might not have responded. Yes, there were any number of people he might have randomly gone after might not have been able to reach him. And yet, a man evidently prepared to listen and a woman with certain life experiences who was prepared to give got paired up, and a rampage that could have continued didn’t. Consider them all a mass of coincidences if you will, but don’t tell Ashley to shut up when she give you her answer.

If “The Purpose-Driven Life” was part of the dynamic, that’s all well and good.

But Ashley Smith ought to remain a hero to us all – and not be reduced to a shill for a book or a symbol of the righteousness of evangelical Christianity.

Because then we might, you know, have to consider it seriously, rather than hand-wave it away as “propaganda”. We might have to do some thinking about this. Can’t have that.

(Cross-posted at Blogger News Network. Comments welcome.)

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