And so it went: Adams was labeled a fool, a hypocrite, a criminal, and a tyrant. Jefferson was branded a weakling, an atheist, a libertine, and a coward. Even Martha Washington jumped in, telling a clergyman that Jefferson was "one of the most detestable of mankind."
I am not naïve, and we should not be naïve, about how bitter partisan politics can be and probably always has been. There may be more money and more technology today—and way longer campaigns—but polarization and division are nothing new. There are no "good old days" that focused on the issues and qualifications. (Ask Ed Muskie. Or Tom Eagleton. Or Hillary Clinton.) I suspect that the human heart and the lust for power are much the same as they have always been. My father, whose political stage was at the town and county level in northeast Pennsylvania, was fond of repeating the old adage, "if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen!"
So if there is nothing new under the sun and if what has always been will always be, then what role does our faith play in shaping not only the issues that matter most to us and the candidates we trust the most (or mistrust the least) but how we pray in these final weeks of yet another bitter election cycle?
I try, in my own prayers, not to tell God how to do God’s job. I often remind people who say that as an ordained person I must have some extra pull that "I'm in sales, not management." Even so, I admit to you that I have broken my own rule this time around because I am truly worried there will be nothing left of this once great nation if we don't embrace change. Even so, in my more lucid moments I try to pray the prayer that never fails: "thy will be done."
The theme of our diocesan convention this year, which will take place a few days after the election, is "the mission continues." Indeed. Whatever the outcome (and even if we don't yet know the outcome) as we gather virtually, across the diocese, we must be about the work of binding up this nation's wounds. While I know that partisan politics is nothing new, it is also true that at their best, faith communities have risen to the occasion of building bridges and healing divisions. The Church can play a role in doing that and I would argue must do so as we embrace our vocation to be “instruments of God’s peace.” In so doing we are taken to the very heart of our work to be salt and light and yeast in this sinful and broken world.
What the Bible has to say about faith and politics is a mixed bag. Most of the time, ancient Israel lived under foreign oppression and domination. The names of the imperial powers changed: Egypt, Babylon, Persia, Rome. But the experiences were pretty much the same. In the brief period when the United Kingdom of Judah and Israel got to try their own hand at self-governance (under Kings Saul and David and Solomon) the truth is that they didn’t do much better. They learned that it was harder than they thought, and that even great leaders like David did not always deliver as promised. After all, it was the giant-killer/ shepherd-boy who ended up seducing his neighbor’s wife while he was off at the front lines, and then having his political cronies cover it up. It turns out that power has always corrupted, and absolute power has always corrupted absolutely. This is why our founders (who thankfully had better days than the ones I was quoting from above) believed in checks and balances and limited government.
What the Bible has to say about faith and politics is a mixed bag. Most of the time, ancient Israel lived under foreign oppression and domination. The names of the imperial powers changed: Egypt, Babylon, Persia, Rome. But the experiences were pretty much the same. In the brief period when the United Kingdom of Judah and Israel got to try their own hand at self-governance (under Kings Saul and David and Solomon) the truth is that they didn’t do much better. They learned that it was harder than they thought, and that even great leaders like David did not always deliver as promised. After all, it was the giant-killer/ shepherd-boy who ended up seducing his neighbor’s wife while he was off at the front lines, and then having his political cronies cover it up. It turns out that power has always corrupted, and absolute power has always corrupted absolutely. This is why our founders (who thankfully had better days than the ones I was quoting from above) believed in checks and balances and limited government.
In the Bible, when David forgot who he was (and whose he was) there emerged voices who insisted that they spoke on behalf of YHWH, that they had a “word of the Lord” for God’s people. They insisted that YHWH cared most of all about the poor and vulnerable—the “widow and orphan,” as they put it. Isaiah and Amos and Micah and Jeremiah and Hosea and Joel stood up to speak on behalf of those whose voices were being silenced, imagining a future messianic age where, “the gates would be open, so that the righteous nation that keeps faith might enter in.” (Isaiah 26:1-8) The playing field, they said, would be leveled and those who trample on the poor and needy would be brought low. In other words, they dared to imagine the world otherwise, and articulated how that world might look like if God’s people truly loved God and neighbor. When he was a little boy, Jesus’ mother sang to him a very similar prophetic song and out in the wilderness John the Baptizer sounds a lot like Isaiah as he worked to prepare the way and make the path straight in the desert.
When St. Paul writes to the fledgling minority of Christians living as resident aliens in the heart of the Roman Empire (right in "the belly of the beast") he tells them they should be subject to the governing authorities and pray for them and keep their noses clean and pay their taxes and pray for the Emperor. We do well to remember that not everyone listened to Paul's counsel here at the time, or since. There are other texts that encourage the faithful to stand up against unjust, unrestrained power. We call people like Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Steve Biko martyrs and saints for making such choices. Even so, in Romans (in spite of what sounds like Paul compromising with the powers-that-be) I think there is a word for the Church, which is something like "letting go and letting God" and particularly of letting go of our own imperial ambitions. There was a time, before American fundamentalists got greedy for power, that Episcopalians roamed the halls of power. It usually doesn't end well for the same reason King David forgot who he was. Whoever wins in this election cycle, Christians are asked to pray for our leaders, even if we aren’t personally happy with the results. They will need our prayers to deal with the difficult problems we face as a nation. Moreover, we are called to work together for something bigger than partisan politics: the Kingdom of God. We do that by loving God and by loving our neighbor. That is how we fulfill Torah.
I have found over the years then whenever preachers like me move from "preaching to meddling" by getting into the weeds of politics, someone will try to end the conversation by suggesting that Jesus said "render unto Caesar." As if that stops the conversation. But I invite you to take a closer look at Mark 12:13-17. We are in the Temple and in the midst of a conflict between Jesus and the temple authorities. It is admittedly a tricky text to interpret. Notice how it begins: with the Pharisees and Herodians trying to trap Jesus. Keep in mind also that they are the ones who have made peace with imperial Rome. Depending on your perspective, you could say that they were realists who compromised or that they were sell-outs who were sleeping with the enemy. But essentially, this is the same issue I've tried to set up above, wanting to suggest that perhaps St. Paul (at least in his letter to the Romans) was in that first group and the prophets were in that second group. While the Bible itself doesn't settle the matter, Jesus does seem to stand more often in the prophetic line of Isaiah. So when asked about taxes it's not a neutral treatise on how his followers ought to relate to governments. Rather, it's a highly contested situation and they are trying to entrap him. It's a "gotcha question." And he gives an enigmatic answer: give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and give to God what is God’s.
In a real sense, that is a response that we Christians will continue to struggle with until the end of human history: how much of our lives belong to God and what belongs to Caesar? Does God just get an hour on Sunday mornings, and Caesar gets the rest? Christians down through the ages have responded differently but the responses always have a context and that context is always shaped by how much power the Church has at that moment in time. Just war theory and non-violent resistance aren't just two different Christian perspectives; they are shaped by who is advocating for them and where they happen to stand in the socio-political context at the time. And how much privilege they have.
For my own part, I don't think there is one right answer for every time and place. Rather, we need each other to be the Church, and because God is not a Democrat or a Republican. By engaging one another across partisan lines, we can remember that our politics is always penultimate and that our ultimate loyalties are not to Caesar (or any current pretenders to Caesar's throne) but to Jesus who is Lord of Lords and King of Kings. Period. Full stop.
Even in this time of pandemic when our gatherings are limited and often virtual, we can pray for one another and remember that in spite of deep divisions over many things, we truly are one in Christ. And that will be just as after November 3 as it is right now. Though we are many and though we are different, we are members of one Body. The Church is not a place where we avoid politics and try to just be "spiritual" (whatever the hell that means!) but where we can remember that petty partisanship, while deeply ingrained in our American psyche, is not the way of Jesus. The way of Jesus is to choose the path of faith, hope, and love. The greatest of these is love.
When St. Paul writes to the fledgling minority of Christians living as resident aliens in the heart of the Roman Empire (right in "the belly of the beast") he tells them they should be subject to the governing authorities and pray for them and keep their noses clean and pay their taxes and pray for the Emperor. We do well to remember that not everyone listened to Paul's counsel here at the time, or since. There are other texts that encourage the faithful to stand up against unjust, unrestrained power. We call people like Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Steve Biko martyrs and saints for making such choices. Even so, in Romans (in spite of what sounds like Paul compromising with the powers-that-be) I think there is a word for the Church, which is something like "letting go and letting God" and particularly of letting go of our own imperial ambitions. There was a time, before American fundamentalists got greedy for power, that Episcopalians roamed the halls of power. It usually doesn't end well for the same reason King David forgot who he was. Whoever wins in this election cycle, Christians are asked to pray for our leaders, even if we aren’t personally happy with the results. They will need our prayers to deal with the difficult problems we face as a nation. Moreover, we are called to work together for something bigger than partisan politics: the Kingdom of God. We do that by loving God and by loving our neighbor. That is how we fulfill Torah.
I have found over the years then whenever preachers like me move from "preaching to meddling" by getting into the weeds of politics, someone will try to end the conversation by suggesting that Jesus said "render unto Caesar." As if that stops the conversation. But I invite you to take a closer look at Mark 12:13-17. We are in the Temple and in the midst of a conflict between Jesus and the temple authorities. It is admittedly a tricky text to interpret. Notice how it begins: with the Pharisees and Herodians trying to trap Jesus. Keep in mind also that they are the ones who have made peace with imperial Rome. Depending on your perspective, you could say that they were realists who compromised or that they were sell-outs who were sleeping with the enemy. But essentially, this is the same issue I've tried to set up above, wanting to suggest that perhaps St. Paul (at least in his letter to the Romans) was in that first group and the prophets were in that second group. While the Bible itself doesn't settle the matter, Jesus does seem to stand more often in the prophetic line of Isaiah. So when asked about taxes it's not a neutral treatise on how his followers ought to relate to governments. Rather, it's a highly contested situation and they are trying to entrap him. It's a "gotcha question." And he gives an enigmatic answer: give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and give to God what is God’s.
In a real sense, that is a response that we Christians will continue to struggle with until the end of human history: how much of our lives belong to God and what belongs to Caesar? Does God just get an hour on Sunday mornings, and Caesar gets the rest? Christians down through the ages have responded differently but the responses always have a context and that context is always shaped by how much power the Church has at that moment in time. Just war theory and non-violent resistance aren't just two different Christian perspectives; they are shaped by who is advocating for them and where they happen to stand in the socio-political context at the time. And how much privilege they have.
For my own part, I don't think there is one right answer for every time and place. Rather, we need each other to be the Church, and because God is not a Democrat or a Republican. By engaging one another across partisan lines, we can remember that our politics is always penultimate and that our ultimate loyalties are not to Caesar (or any current pretenders to Caesar's throne) but to Jesus who is Lord of Lords and King of Kings. Period. Full stop.
Even in this time of pandemic when our gatherings are limited and often virtual, we can pray for one another and remember that in spite of deep divisions over many things, we truly are one in Christ. And that will be just as after November 3 as it is right now. Though we are many and though we are different, we are members of one Body. The Church is not a place where we avoid politics and try to just be "spiritual" (whatever the hell that means!) but where we can remember that petty partisanship, while deeply ingrained in our American psyche, is not the way of Jesus. The way of Jesus is to choose the path of faith, hope, and love. The greatest of these is love.
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