August
2006
The Process of Christian Politics
Just a couple of weeks ago, while I was vacationing with my family in North Carolina, I picked up the New York Times and learned all about the pastor of Cedar Ridge Community Church, a conservative evangelical institution, who told his congregation that the work of the church is not to endorse particular candidates or particular public policies — that the growing association of Christianity with anti-gay, pro-militarist public policy perverts the work of the church as a whole and the spiritual lives of individual Christians.
This caused quite the uproar in Cedar Ridge Church. Many members protested the pastor’s statements, arguing that the work of Christians is, indeed political; that Christians must speak out when they see wrong in the world about them, especially including legal abortion and homosexuality. Some left the church, and others chose not to pledge their financial support.
Of course, as a Christian progressive, I disagree with the actual political commitments of Cedar Ridge Church, but for me, the conundrum of the political church brings up the more complex issue of “crossing the line” between politics and spirituality. For progressives, who are generally committed to a firm separation between church and state, this is a particularly complicated choice, and often means that we are reluctant to speak about our faith in public. Churches committed to living out progressive Christianity take significant risks. All Saints Church, Pasadena, with a strong history of commitment to peace and justice, has had their tax-exempt status investigated by the IRS. Many Christians avoid any church which “preaches politics,” feeling aggrieved when a pastor or priest gets “too political,” and refuse to make the connection between their faith and their political lives. If we do make the connection, we sometimes run the risk of simply replacing our faith with our politics, rather than having our politics arise from our faith. Often progressives themselves, in order to avoid the problem, simply put their politics in one box and their faith in another, squelching the nagging feeling that something about that is not quite right.
As Christian progressives, we believe that Christians are indeed called to be active in the political sphere, as we are called to be Christians wherever we are. But how can we offer the world the special gifts we have to bring as Christians in action, without making idols out of our own political beliefs and activities, substituting our own imperfect vision of the world for God’s? How can we be truly Christian and truly political, while making space for God’s creativity and unexpected, uncontrolled grace?
It occurs to me that it may be a question of process. Perhaps we are called not to accomplish one or another political goal and be done, but to offer to the world another way of being entirely — one which focuses our energies not merely on end-goals, but on our relationships with God and one another.
By this measure, we can examine our political work and activism for measures of success in God’s ways, not simply in ours. If our political action expresses itself only in contempt for others, fear, vitriol, and despair of positive change, it is rooted in something other than God’s grace. If we examine our organizations and political activities for the fruits of the spirit — love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control — we can trust that our political activism is indeed an expression of our faith.
If our political action is based in our faith, we can trust in God’s time, God’s work and in God’s ways of accomplishing it, rather than in the force of our own personalities, our abilities to manipulate others, our shrewdness, our numbers, our money, or our nation’s many weapons. We can avoid the despair and burnout that is always a danger in working for deep change. We can risk being guided by compassion and a creative, joyous spirit. And as we examine public policies from a point of faith and trust, we then have the courage to critique those which hinder God’s work and God’s kingdom — from a heart of faith and love for others, trusting in God’s ability to work through us.
But contempt and vitriol are exactly what Mr. Laarman displays at the Huffington Post. (Or at least, in my family we don’t demonstrate love, joy, peace, patience etc. by referring to each other as “half-mad plotters.”) A good reminder of what a distasteful bunch politicized Christians are, and how ashamed Jesus must be of the hatred spewed in His name.
Let me be clear — being Christian in our political lives, as in other aspects of our lives, doesn’t mean never getting angry, as theologian Beverly Wildung Harrison writes in her essay “The Power of Anger in the Work of Love.” In fact, it requires becoming angry sometimes, as anger is among God’s own responses to injustice and oppression. (See The Bible, passim.)
I would agree, indeed, that Jesus is ashamed of hatred spewed in His name. However, simply becoming angry and expressing honest anger, in a public forum, about what politicians are doing in our name is not the same as hatred, which aims to destroy the very existence of the thing or person hated. The honest expression of anger can arise out of love and be directed towards positive change.
I too read the article in the NY Times, and it has caused me to engage in some similar thinking over the last week or so. We simply can’t ignore the fact that Christ stated that the Kingdom of God was a present reality — that it was “at hand.” As a result, the present reality of the Kingdom has profound implications both for our relationship with God and others in society. If we ignore this wider dimension of the Gospel then we ascribe to a very narrow and, in my view, anti-Biblical, version of the Gospel. The rub comes, however, when one has to translate the present reality of the Kingdom into the political paradigm in which we find ourselves in the time and place God has placed us. In undertaking that task, I think that Jennifer has hit on a very important truth — that as Christians we have to approach this task from a different perspective entirely. That it is not a matter of winning or losing, but instead that we are to exist differently as Christians in the world of political discourse, indeed in the world as a whole. One concept that has been helpful to me in thinking through this difference is the Jewish concept of shalom or, literally, peace. Shalom, however, encompasses more than simply the absence of conflict, violent or otherwise (although it certainly includes that as well!). Instead, it is a way of being in the world, living as if (to quote Radiohead) “everything is in its right place.” This does not mean that prophetic language of the type used by Peter Larmaan will not sometimes be appropriate, even required. But we always need to make sure that the reason for use of prophetic or apocalyptic language is not simply for the purposes of division or hatred but in support of the greater goal of advancing the Kingdom, of spreading shalom, or, put most simply, of showing God’s love to the world. Perhaps by truly endeavoring to embody shalom, to live as if the Kingdom is “near”, we can overcome the temptation to use politics to advance our own agenda, but instead to see that “thy Kingdom come, thy will be done.”
Thanks for the thoughtful post, Jennifer. Any dialogue on my post from you or others is most welcome. Part of living in the Kingdom is the affirmation of the importance of dialogue as we all “see through a glass darkly.”
Jennifer, expressing honest disagreement with a democratically elected politician is perfectly appropriate. But God has not directed us to insult our fellow citizens who hold elective office. Do you refer to people in your congregation who hold different views than yours on refurbishing the sanctuary as “half-mad plotters”? Do you tell family members who want a different restaurant that they are responsible for terrorism? If this is the kind of vitriol you use in daily life, then I am glad I am not in your congregation or your family.
I can honestly say that, no, I don’t call anyone in my congregation “half-mad plotters,” nor do I tell my family members who want a different restaurant that they are responsible for terrorism. (Restaurant debates are frequent in my family, and result in our driving aimlessly around for hours. We are, therefore, responsible for a certain extra amount of global warming…on the other hand, there are seven of us in the car, so at least we’re carpooling.)
I think you’d be happy to be in my family or congregation — not because I’m in it, but because I’ve been blessed to be part of a family and a church that truly does strive to live with love, however imperfectly.
However, neither my fellow congregation members nor my family members are engaged in making and justifying decisions that will lead to the death and dismemberment of other human beings, nor are they engaged in justifying those decisions by casually demonizing other nations and peoples. When I see that happening, I do get angry. As I see how we as a nation have been misled and lied to by our leaders, and how wars which are destroying the bodies and souls of many nations are justified by appealing to fear, hatred, and self-interest, I do get angry.
And, as Steve writes above, it’s important to take that anger seriously, not to stifle it, but to use it prophetically to call for change, to speak truth to power. As Christians, we’re called to examine our anger carefully, to do our best to ensure that we are not acting simply on our own agendas, but are truly attempting to respond to God’s call for us in the world — to see, to pray, and then to act. We aren’t perfect, and we will always fall short; but the message of the Gospel to us is that we can always try again.
y81
You are off the mark here. The real outrage is the criminal incompetence of the group that brought us this insame war. the real outrage is the picture of those forgotten folks in New Orleans still waiting for this nation to do what our president promised. The real outrage is the denial of science while the world bakes and rising oceans eat away whole countries. Your sentimental piety is misplaced in a world of such hurt.
It seems there is a false dichotomy that has been created between politics and religion, perhaps with the intent to kill off influence that is the outcome of having faith in Christ. Instead we are told, and believe, there is no place for that in the arena of politics. That’s like telling a horse he cannot run in the pasture because the racetrack is the place for running. Horses must run. It’s part of who they are. In the same way, if we call ourselves followers of Christ then we must stand against evil, it’s who we are.
The problem come when we start trying to define evil. It seems as if everyone wants to define it how they feel comfortable doing so. That’s fine, unless you follow Christ, in which case your definition of evil is simply what he says is evil (i.e. what the bible says is evil). But if I say abortion is evil on two levels; it puts man as the author and finisher of life, and it’s murder, then I’m becoming political. If I say homosexuality is wrong because it exchanges natural relations for unnatural ones, and is the result of God giving men over to evil because of their refusal to acknowledge him as God, I’m seen as narrow-minded and intolerant. Believe me I’m perfectly alright with that critique from the outside world, but when someone who carries the name of Christ aims that critique at me then I grow suspect. For how can one call themselves a follower of Christ (a Christian) and not ascribe to his rules and mandates? This is a clear indication that we’ve forgotten what it means to follow Christ. It doesn’t mean you borrow a name to give your own views credence.
Hi Jacob — thanks for your thoughtful post. I appreciate it deeply. I would like to point out, though, that you make a very swift jump from “following Christ…in which the definition of evil is what he says is evil” to “what the bible says is evil” to “abortion and homosexuality are evil.” Many Christians in the world love and follow Christ without assuming that everything the Bible says is evil is also condemned by Christ. In fact, the Gospels show us that this is not so — Jesus was comfortable with, for instance, working on the Sabbath, something punishable by death in the Hebrew scriptures. In addition, Jesus said nothing about abortion or homosexuality. Both of these are highly contested areas, and we need to take seriously what the Bible says about them, but there is more to our responsibility to God than just the Bible. We do need to take ourselves as sexual beings seriously, and take seriously our call to be loving, compassionate, and holy in our sexual relationships as in all of our other relationships; but the Bible is only one source, and not a clear or simple source, of guidance on this. There is also prayer, the life of our community as a church over the past two millennia, our relationship with God, our experiences of love in life with one another.
Over two thousand years and hundreds of cultures, there has been a great diversity in the Christian world of sexual practice and sexual morals, and it has always been a contested and complex subject, and probably always will be. But if we are living in love of one another, in trust in God, and in trust that the Spirit will lead us if we are humble and open to God’s presence — if we do not set up our own ideas, even our own morality, as God — then I do believe we can continue to walk together without hatred for one another.
I don’t think there’s any need for me to critique you as a Christian, because we all come from the same root, and we are all striving to live in love for one another and for God. On the other hand, on the political level, it may be necessary for us to oppose one another. I would oppose anyone who tried to minimize or undermine the human rights of gay and lesbian people, who are persecuted and killed in many parts of the world. We are also God’s children and deserve the love of our brothers and sisters.
I would therefore call upon Christians who believe that “homosexuality is evil” (and we should get to work on what that statement actually means — a homosexual orientation? homosexual individuals? homosexual relationships? homosexual existence?) to look at the real-world and spiritual consequences of their own opposition to gay rights. Can we truly call the persecution and oppression of our brothers and sisters by the name of “love of righteousness”? Are we acting as peacemakers, as gentle in spirit? Are the fruits of the spirit made manifest in this work? Does Christ teach us to hate, oppress, and vilify one another? I do not think so — but I will freely admit that, judging by our political news, there are many Christians that do think so, and act accordingly.