Opinion There’s no place for Usha Vance in her husband’s America — or for my family and me
The 'Christian Nationalist' version of the faith that the US Vice President professes excludes everyone who doesn't fit its America First identity
If Vance weren't the Vice President, this would merely be a case of an overbearing husband publicly humiliating his wife, an issue for a marriage counsellor rather than society at large Usha’s perfect reply: “I hope my husband receives the gift of reincarnation as a Hindu.”
She didn’t say that, of course. She said nothing.
Last week, US Vice President J D Vance informed the world that he rejected his wife’s faith (and the faith of millions of Americans, and more than a billion people around the globe). “I honestly do wish that,” he said, when asked whether he wished Usha would convert to Christianity, “because I believe in the Christian Gospel, and I hope eventually my wife comes to see it the same way.”
Set aside, for a moment, the sheer callousness of the response: He could have replied that he respected Usha’s beliefs, or otherwise deflected the question without publicly denigrating his own spouse, children and in-laws. Set aside, also, the fact that he was speaking as the second-highest official of the US government — a government that is not a Christian theocracy, but one whose Constitution enshrines freedom of religion right in the opening words of its First Amendment. Consider, instead, the implications of Vance’s position for the very hope of a secular society. Consider the implications for a family like — well, mine.
My marriage was a combined Christian-Hindu ceremony — conducted in a church, officiated by a pastor and a pandit side by side. Each of my sons received his baptism on the same day as his pasni. They both grew up celebrating Christmas about two months after every Diwali, Easter a few weeks after each Holi. I took them to church every week throughout their childhoods: Occasionally their mother joined, but I never suggested (or desired) that she convert. Sometimes we participated in family pujas in India or Nepal: Nobody pressured me to convert (if that’s even possible — Hindus have a range of opinions on the subject). If members of my family can respect each others’ deepest spiritual beliefs, why can’t Vance?
There are two possible reasons, and both of them are profoundly disturbing.
The first possibility is that Vance believes non-Christians will spend eternity in Hell. This was the position of almost all Christian denominations for most of the past two millennia — but it is not the belief of many Christians in America, Europe and elsewhere today. It may not even have been a doctrine held by Jesus himself: The (few) Biblical passages most suggestive of such an interpretation come not from the three synoptic Gospels but from that of John — a text which virtually all Biblical scholars agree was composed several generations after Jesus’ death.
There is far more evidence that Jesus saw Hell (if it even exists — a concept disputed by 41 per cent of Americans) as punishment for misdeeds rather than wrong belief. For example, in one Gospel passage, those “cursed into the eternal fire” are people who failed their basic duty to their fellow humans: “For I was hungry, and you gave me nothing to eat…whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me” (Matthew 25:41-43). Something to consider as Vance’s Administration cuts off food relief benefits for 41 million Americans this week.
The second explanation is even more misguided: Perhaps Vance believes that Christianity is the only foundation for morality. If so, he might do well to consider the example of Mahatma Gandhi. The number of people leading good, honest, even saintly lives around the world is beyond counting — and surely includes at least as many non-Christians as Christians (statistically, probably far more). Gandhi’s example is particularly relevant since he explicitly drew his spiritual guidance from both Hindu scripture and the Bible, without ever entertaining the notion that he should convert. Indeed, one would be hard-pressed to find more than a handful of Christians throughout all of time who upheld the ethics of the Gospel more faithfully than he did.
If Vance weren’t the Vice President, this would merely be a case of an overbearing husband publicly humiliating his wife, an issue for a marriage counsellor rather than society at large. But he does speak as VP — the VP of an administration increasingly dominated by a version of so-called “Christian Nationalism” which has effectively excommunicated so many Americans.
In this vision of American public morality, followers of other religions, or of no religion at all, are automatically outside the community. Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Sikhs, Jains, Zoroastrians and (as Vance makes clear) Hindus. You’re permitted to live here, but this nation isn’t really yours. But even those who consider themselves Christian are anathematised unless they subscribe to a particularly harsh, uncharitable, and intolerant vision of the faith.
Vance’s version of Christianity is very far from the one practised in my church — a liberal Presbyterian congregation which denies communion to nobody, welcomes LGBTQ+ congregants, and regards provision of free meals to homeless neighbours as a centrepiece of its mission. It focuses far less on what theological doctrine you believe, and far more on how you put your beliefs into action on behalf of your fellow humans. The “Christian Nationalist” version of the faith excludes everyone who doesn’t fit its America First identity. It might well have excluded Jesus himself.
There’s no place for Usha Vance in such a version of America. And no place for me and my family either.
Blank is the author of Arrow of the Blue-Skinned God: Retracing the Ramayana Through India and Mullahs on the Mainframe: Islam and Modernity Among the Daudi Bohras