COMMENTARY: My list of things not missed

(UNDATED) In Gilbert and Sullivan’s operetta “The Mikado,” the Lord High Executioner sings about things he detests: “I’ve got a little list and … they’d none of them be missed.” I, too, have “got a little list” of phrases I dislike, and “they’d none of them be missed.” It starts with the trite response from […]

(UNDATED) In Gilbert and Sullivan’s operetta “The Mikado,” the Lord High Executioner sings about things he detests: “I’ve got a little list and … they’d none of them be missed.”

I, too, have “got a little list” of phrases I dislike, and “they’d none of them be missed.”

It starts with the trite response from public leaders after someone’s death: “My thoughts and prayers are with the family.” It’s a canned response that often fails to convey authentic grief or genuine sympathy. It’s a one-size-fits-all phrase akin to an automated telephone voice: “Press one in case of death, two for serious illness, three for a birth, four for a wedding or five for a divorce.”


I hate to be cynical, but do public figures really “pray” for the bereaved family or even “think” about the deceased individual? Their “thoughts and prayers” often come across as a thin porous gauze placed over a freshly bleeding wound.

Next on my “little list” is the standard apology that begins with this banal formula: “I regret it if I have offended anyone with my remarks.” It is usually said by someone who does not want to apologize for an egregious statement or action.

We’ve seen this with schismatic Bishop Richard Williamson who was recently readmitted to the Catholic Church even though he expressed deep doubts about the Holocaust to Swedish television.

Williamson offered these inconsequential words of “regret” to the pope without repudiating his obscene beliefs: “Amidst this tremendous media storm stirred up by imprudent remarks of mine on Swedish television, I beg of you to accept … my sincere regrets for having caused … so much unnecessary distress and problems.”

There’s no recanting of his own “imprudent remarks” — which is a nice way to describe his outrageous lies about the Holocaust — or how they dishonored millions of victims in the Nazi genocide. He’s not sorry for what he said; he’s sorry for causing “unnecessary distress and problems.”

“Secular humanism” is another term that wouldn’t be “missed.” It’s frequently an amorphous label that’s attached to anything and everything that the religious right disapproves of: many universities and colleges, the entertainment industry, most of the mainstream media, gays and lesbians (especially those in public life), immigrants, gender equality, gun control, evolution, and any politician whose policies deviate from the conservative agenda.


Whenever I hear “secular humanism,” I always point out that “secularists” and “humanists” have historically provided extraordinary advances in science, literature, medicine, governance, culture, music, education, and yes, religion. But sadly, “secular humanism” still remains a term of derision.

Finally, let’s jettison the term “Old Testament” and replace it with “Hebrew Bible.” The Christian church has always considered the Hebrew Bible as half of its sacred Scripture. As a result, while both Jews and Christian share the same text — which, by the way, was the only Scripture known to Jesus — they revere it in fundamentally different ways.

For Jews, the Hebrew Bible is the bedrock of faith, the story of their people, an eternal source of instruction and inspiration. Christians perceive the same biblical books as a necessary, though not sufficient, component of their spiritual beliefs. The “old” covenant was fulfilled in the person of Jesus (especially his death and resurrection), and that fulfillment is revealed in the “new” covenant, or New Testament.

In time, the church saw itself as the “New Israel,” and the Gospel accounts, St. Paul’s writings and the rest of the Christian canon became the “New Testament.”

Psychologically, people generally believe something “new” is better than something “old.” The “New” Testament reflected a God of “love” while the “Old” Testament expressed a God of “wrath.” It is little wonder that in such a competition, the “harsh Old Testament” became spiritually inferior compared to the “loving New Testament.”

Given that false dichotomy, perhaps it’s not surprising that the people of the Old Testament — the Jews — were denigrated and frequently viewed as a religiously surplus population, while the people of the New Testament were celebrated as members of the new true faith.


The term “Old Testament” would certainly not “be missed.”

(Rabbi Rudin, the American Jewish Committee’s senior interreligious adviser, is the author of “The Baptizing of America: The Religious Right’s Plans for the Rest of Us.”)

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