Bishop's Letter on U.S. Presidential Elections
Sojourners and Pilgrims on the Presidential trail
The Wall Street Journal recently described believers in the US as often feeling “politically homeless,” as (they conclude) no political party or politician aligns perfectly with the ideals of their faith. After all, Peter describes followers of Jesus as “sojourners and pilgrims” (1 Peter 2:11 NKJV) in this world and so it follows that we may well feel politically detached or conflicted.
So, is the answer to throw up our hands and walk away? There is evidence of exactly this kind of politesse being heeded both in the Bible and in history. In the first book of Kings, the prophet Elijah urged the people of God to see the error of some quite obviously ungodly political practices (including child sacrifice), and we are told that, in the face of his remonstrations, “…the people [of God] said nothing.” (1 Kings 18:21b). And in saying nothing, they cast their vote for the status quo. In much the same way, the nineteenth-century reformer, William Wilberforce, declared, "So enormous, so dreadful, so irremediable did the [slave] trade's wickedness appear that my own mind was completely made up for abolition. Let the consequences be what they would: I from this time determined that I would never rest until I had effected its abolition.” In stark contrast, many British churches in the 1800s “said nothing” in the face of slavery and so cast their vote in favor of the slave trader. The same can be said of faith communities that remained silent during the civil rights movement. The paradox is that not to be political will always have political consequences.
Our difficulties are not occasioned when a person of faith becomes active in politics, nor are they precipitated when a person of faith adheres to a particular political party. The challenge comes when any particular party is held out as God’s holy, and only, political platform. Pastor and author, Dr. Tim Keller, recites the following true story: “I know of a man from Mississippi who was a conservative Republican and a traditional Presbyterian. He visited the Scottish Highlands and found the churches there as strict and as orthodox as he had hoped. No one so much as turned on a television on a Sunday. Everyone memorized catechisms and Scripture. But one day he discovered that the Scottish Christian friends he admired were (in his view) socialists. Their understanding of government economic policy and the state’s responsibilities was by his lights very left-wing, yet also grounded in their Christian convictions. He returned to the United States not more politically liberal but, in his words, ‘humbled and chastened.’” Keller concludes, “He realized that thoughtful Christians, all trying to obey God’s call, could reasonably appear at different places on the political spectrum, with loyalties to different political strategies.”
I am not here suggesting that we should all be socialists, or that we should belong to a particular party or vote for a certain candidate. My point, rather, is that Christians as much as anyone else, should participate fully in our political process, that we need to do so thoughtfully, taking into account our Christian understanding, and that we will likely come to different conclusions regarding the selection of our preferred candidate or party.
As people of faith, do we imagine that our political ambitions are somehow binary? By that, I mean are we limited to only two choices: either “say nothing” (thereby following the dubious example of the people of God in the first book of Kings) or throw our whole weight behind one party and thereby have no option but to buy wholesale, what British ethicist James Mumford refers to as “package-deal ethics.” Is it possible, instead, that the community of faith has the greater potential to serve and assist in raising the level of political debate and even bridge partisan divides?
After the Presidential election, whether we feel triumphant, devastated, depressed, or conflicted, here Jesus is supremely clear about our role as His disciple and as a diocese. He calls us to be salt and light. Specifically, He told us, “You are the salt of the earth…You are the light of the world” (Matthew 5:13a, 14a). Salt and light are metaphors that indicate the influence for good that we have in the world as Jesus’ disciples. The word “influence” is derived from the Latin root meaning “to flow.” And as salt and light, we are to continuously flow in the love and power of God. Our world is badly in need of repair. There are some big wounds that need tending. The world desperately needs more healers and less hate.
Jesus’ clear word to us, as we approach and come out the other side of the election, is to continue to, “…love your neighbor as yourself.” We all are born with certain baggage. We are who we are, where we were born, who we were born as, how we were raised. And it is too easy to get stuck inside that person. We usually focus on how we are being treated. When we are asked, “How did your day go today?” we hear, “How did people treat us?” The Golden Rule turns that on its head and asks, “How did you treat others?” The Golden Rule invites us to crawl inside another person’s skin and to see and feel the world through his or her eyes, experiencing the world as if you were that person. The Golden Rule invites us to take a leap of sanctified imagination and then take action accordingly. And by God’s Spirit, loving our neighbor as ourselves will inevitably lead to our participation in political processes. As we do so, we learn how to listen with a lot more love, a lot more peace, added forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and a great deal more self-control.
We can look at the pain and disunity on our doorstep and in our world and feel totally overwhelmed. That is not unreasonable. The UK Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks has something helpful to say to us. He describes the ways that the Jewish community has not only survived but also contributed to the flourishing of the world through redemptive participation — what he calls “taking up their identity as a creative minority.” He writes, “To become a creative minority is not easy because it involves maintaining strong links with the outside world while staying true to your faith, seeking not merely to keep the sacred flame burning but also to transform the larger society of which you are a part. That is a demanding and risk-laden choice.” A creative minority has an alternative view of faith and work that encompasses everyone’s life, not just some sort of Christian elite class. This is Jesus’ call for us to be salt and light. A call to grow in our faith, display His humility, and love the world into new life through redemptive participation with Him.
We don’t have to wait until the day after election day to be salt and light. We don’t have to wait until the lawn signs come down and the grueling post-election analysis begins. We can start today. As a family of churches up and down New England we can be His creative minority today. We can choose to be salt and light in the weeks that precede. We can grow in humility and listen to the pain and disappointment in our neighbor’s heart, just beneath a political opinion that we are not able to agree with. History bears out the truth that the advancement of the Kingdom of God does not depend on the cultural or political situation in which we find ourselves. Rather it depends upon our unity in His Spirit, rooted and operating in His power and love. St. Augustine brings us the same invitation. He would remind us that before we were republican, democrat, or undecided, first and foremost, “You are the Body of Christ. In you and through you the work of the Incarnation must go forward. You are to be taken. You are to be blessed, broken, and distributed, that you may be the means of grace and vessels of eternal love.”
In His great love,
+ Andrew