May 13, 2018 By Richard Robbins 4 min read

The giant cross atop Jumonville hill, in the mountains east of Uniontown, is symbolic of the area; although religious, it has a secular connotation as well: for those of us who grew up within its sight, it means home.

Nevertheless …

The decision by Adam Sedlock, a Democrat running for Congress in this Tuesday’s primary election, to use Jumonville Cross as the backdrop for a political ad raises some troubling questions, such as: what’s going on here?

Is Sedlock saying that of the four Democrats running for Congress in the newly reconfigured 14th Congressional District, he is the most religious, the most Christian?

Is he saying? “Look, folks, my morals are the tops. I’ll never disappoint you.”

Is it meant to identify Sedlock as the Fayette County-Uniontown candidate for Congress? Frankly, the Jumonville Cross cannot have the same homey meaning for the people of Washington, Greene and Westmoreland counties as it does for Fayette Countians.

(The new 14th consists of these four counties, with a portion of Westmoreland in another congressional district.)

Or is this Sedlock’s way of appealing to the political sensibilities of religious Democrats, of conservative Democrats?

Whatever the case, Sedlock has crossed (bad pun not intended) a line. Deploying the Christian cross for political gain is blatantly wrong. Its use by any politician of any political stripe is both bad politics and bad religion. It should never happen in the pursuit of power. Ever.

Mixing religion and politics is combustible, and wrong. Liberals are rightly alarmed by the antics of such deeply conservative figures as pastors Pat Robertson and Franklin Graham, who attempt to wrap themselves in their brand of Christianity as they pursue nakedly political ends.

For all of that, I think it’s pretty clear what’s happening, not just with the Sedlock campaign, but with several of his opponents as well. They are trying to capture a little Conor Lamb magic, a style of Democratic politics neatly, if precariously, balanced on the conservative-progressive axis.

Bob Solomon, an emergency room physician, is running a Facebook ad touting his membership in the pro-gun National Rifle Association. “For our rights, for our heritage” the ad declares.

Taken at face value, the ad would have you believe that Solomon is the “only Democratic candidate who shares our values,” all because of his “lifetime” NRA membership — “values” being code for conservative sensibilities and ideas.

Bibiana Boerio, a former auto executive, is another western Pennsylvania “values” candidate, as reflected in one of her campaign mailers.

(Parenthetically, are these “values” in conflict with, say, Maine “values,” with Colorado “values,” with Florida “values?” No one ever says.

Can’t we agree on the simple fact that there are, or should be, only American “values” — the values of free speech, free elections, and a free press; the values of freedom of conscience and freedom from fear and want?)

In each of these three cases, the Conor Lamb playbook is being utilized. Why, it’s a wonder one of the candidates hasn’t called for Nancy Pelosi’s head as the Democratic leader in the House. Lamb, a telegenic former federal prosecutor, ran a pitch-perfect, mistake-free race earlier this year against conservative Republican Rick Saccone in a western Pennsylvania district Donald Trump aced in 2016.

In the course of the campaign, he persuaded a majority of voters — a bare majority — that he was the real deal.

The test for Sedlock, Solomon, Boerio and a fourth Democratic seeking the party nomination, Tom Prigg, is whether they can appear to be as authentic as Lamb, rather than imitators of a style of reconciliation politics the young man perfected on his way to Washington.

Richard Robbins lives in Uniontown and is the author of two books — Grand Salute: Stories of the World War II Generation and Our People. He can be reached at dick.l.robbins @gmail.com.