I am often amazed how short collective memory can be—even when considering the recent past.

In one of my many professional incarnations, I found myself substitute teaching to pay the bills so I could continue in ministry. In a Grade 6 science class one day, I alluded to the things we learned when we first went to the moon. The class responded with chuckles and loud guffaws.

To my dismay, these children, barely more than one generation removed from the event, had never heard of the Apollo program. I was hardly able to convince them that we had indeed been there—and back!—several times.

Memory gets worse the further back we go into history.

I always sit uneasy when I hear North American Christians refer to the Judeo-Christian roots on which the U.S. and Canada were apparently founded. The inference is that the pilgrims and other pioneers who came here were leaving godless, atheistic nations across the seas to finally found a country based on Christian principles.

But our collective memory has failed us. They were fleeing “Christian countries” where religious truth and biblical principles apparently already dictated the actions of the government. However, the result of the European experiment in mixing religion and politics was bloodshed, turmoil and human suffering. Those who fled wanted something different.

Blissfully unaware

As I lived through yet another federal election, I once again heard Christians of every stripe make all kinds of comments about how they would like to live in a “Christian country” where our leaders were trustworthy men of faith who promoted Christian virtue. I found myself tempted to pull a page or two about Constantine out of my seminary textbook to show people who are apparently blissfully unaware that the conversion of the Roman Emperor and the official status that ensued for the Church still stand as one of the greatest tragedies of its spiritual and theological history.

As a believer, I voted again in this election. That is a privilege and a duty that comes with living in a participatory democracy. But once again, no one has any idea how I voted. Oh, they think they know. My liberal friends heard me talk about some of the ethical principles in the conservative platforms. My conservative friends heard me talk about some of the issues raised by the Bloc that are worthy of Christian support. And my Bloc friends often heard me speak about the benefits the Quebec Church has reaped from its association with the Church in English Canada.

Learning the lesson

As a Christian, I want to do all I can, on my knees and at the ballot box, to ensure my country is one where peace and order and freedom allow me to live my Christian faith and talk to others about it openly. I have learned from history, however, that while the Church flourishes in times of persecution, it grows corrupt and loses its focus when it is in a position of political influence. The greater the influence, the worse the corruption.

It would be an understatement to say that Quebecers are interested in politics, but right now they are even more intrigued about spirituality. You want to talk to me about Harper, Martin, Duceppe and the constitution? Fine.

You want to talk to me about God, faith and values? Even better. Just don’t mix the two. We’ve been there, seen that, done that. Wasn’t pretty. Don’t want to go there again.

Just another one of the many reasons why the licence plates at this end of the 401 read “Je me souviens” (“I remember”).