At church on Sunday we received a sermon on the famous passage of James that “faith without works is dead.” Taking advantage of this theme, somebody set up a table in the social hall where we could sign up to pray and fast this week for peace in the Middle East, and also provided paper, pens and a template for writing a letter to President Bush. I split the difference: I said I’d pray and fast, but I declined to write to the president.
I’m not sure I could have explained exactly why if someone had asked me, but no one asked me. I was thinking about this, however, when I read Pastor John Wright’s post on protest activism (via Jennifer). He quotes Alasdair MacIntyre:
For the Western social pattern has a role all ready for the radical moral critic to play. It is accepted that there should be minorities of protest on particular issues. And it is even a reinforcement for the dominant picture of morality that the moral critic should exhibit himself choosing his values of protest. For they remain his values, his private values. There is no set of common, public standards to which he can appeal, no shared moral image for his society by means of which he can make his case. And if he chooses his values in the spirit of Hier sich ich, ich kann nicht anders, is it not equally open to his opponents to do the same? . . . the isolation of the moral from the factual, the emphasis on choice, the arbitrariness introduced into moral matters, all these play into the hands of the defenders of the established order. The moral critic . . . pays the penalties of both self-deception and ineffectiveness for imagining that moral knight errantry is compatible with being morally effective in our form of society.
I think he has a point that in America, leaders and protestors have a certain co-dependence. The existence of protest lends moral legitimacy to leaders, because it shows that they do allow dissent and yet most Americans have freely chosen to side with the leaders. At the same time, the continued misbehavior of leaders is always giving protestors something to get on the moral high ground about, without actually having to deal with the responsibilities of power.
I think he’s also correct about the lack of a larger moral foundation. Many Christian protestors seem to think of themselves as successors to the Old Testament prophets. But the prophets were sent by God to remind the Hebrews that their nation was founded on God’s law, and that they were supposed to stick to it. The founding principles of the United States of America, on the other hand, take the right course to be whatever the majority supports and the Constitution allows.
This brings me to something I was thinking about in the discussion on Ben Witherington’s post about the beliefs of the founding fathers. In response to his first question, I wrote that democracy is to some extent the logical outcome of the Judeo-Christian demystification of the state. Jews, and then Christians, rejected the claims of kings to be gods; Christian kings sidestepped this by claiming to rule by divine right, but eventually, under pressure from radical Protestants, this claim toppled also. However, we see in America that the last stronghold of mystical nationalism is the idea that the people rule by divine right. This concept is embedded in the Declaration of Independence, and was greatly expanded upon over the years.
From a Christian perspective, this belief has a few problems. One, the Bible doesn’t support the idea that anybody has a divine right to rule; God appoints leaders for the sake of public order, but they are constantly under judgment. But the more insidious effect that I see among Christians I know is the assumption, “I could do it better.” If only my preferred policies were implemented, instead of what those evil morons up there are doing, all these intractable problems would be solved.
Of course, many Christian activists would object that they are not promoting their personal opinions, but God’s opinions. Pastor John says that “the immorality of the invasion (of Iraq) is not my private moral judgment, but the truthful application of Christian just war principles.” The problem, though, is that the concept of the divine rule of the people (or of anybody) often blurs the two. I think what bothers me when I hear a lot of my churchmates talk about politics is the casual assumption that if they were in charge of America — a position that, I think it is safe to say, none of us has been in anything remotely like — they would implement Christian principles and nonviolently end terrorism, knit up Iraq, and get the Israelis and Palestinians holding hands and singing “Kumbayah.” OK, I’m exaggerating a little, but not a lot.
The fact is, for me to write a letter to President Bush telling him how to deal with the Middle East would really be “the blind leading the blind.” I carry in me the hope — often, I admit, a fragile hope — that the way of love and nonviolence will be the last word in the universe. Until then, however, I can make no guarantees. The first followers of Jesus were persecuted for centuries, to the point where they were willing to buy Constantine’s “vision” story even though it seemed awfully out of character for Jesus. I have not been subjected to that sort of temptation, nor have I been subjected to the temptations of being born into a powerful family and semi-inheriting leadership of the most powerful nation in the world. I can pray that I would do better in those circumstances, but it’s not something I can assume.
As an alternative to protest, Pastor John says Christians should be involved in more “direct works of love,” rather than trying to influence the government to perform them in their stead. Telford made the same point a few years ago when blogging about the same topic. I remember, though, the story my boyfriend told me about how Mennonites became more politically active than they traditionally were: they went out into the world to try to help the underprivileged, then discerned certain systemic conditions that caused them to be underprivileged, and so moved on to trying to change the conditions. In other words, such direct acts of love might lead you toward political activism rather than away from it.
This reminds me of AKMA’s post on the ambiguous legacy of St. MacGyver – that is, the burden that well-meaning people of privileged classes feel to fix things. AKMA points out that this urge has accomplished good things but also carries hazards, which he expanded upon in a follow-up post. There’s a great balancing act in this, as is shown in his conclusion:
So, on the terms I’m setting out, our response to injustices that we perceive is neither a determination to remedy them (tacitly: “at any costâ€), nor passively to say, “well, the poor will be with us always,†but to endeavor to live in ways that (imperfectly) bespeak God’s equity and truth: within the ambit of our capacities (patiently), subject to criticism and correction (humbly). To the extent that we attain such a life, we do so not through the power of our own wills or intellects, not through the purity of our intentions, not through the guaranteed inerrancy of our authorities, but solely through a grace that does not originate with us, that refuses coercion, that invites correction and cooperation (even when these involve a departure from the corrective program we devised).
So simple to say, and so hard to do.
You’re hitting a nerve with this one, although I do not see Christians as having any particular guilt in this area – it seems to be a wider cultural thing. Leaders are made to be criticized and of course we would do a better job if we were there.
What astonishes me is that people who have held leadership positions don’t instantly abandon the comfortable conceit that they could do a much better job. I’ve only experienced leadership in very small ways and often at one remove, but it was enough to see how tricky it can be, that decisions are often based on information that other people don’t have and indeed, can’t have, that pressures can come from several directions at once and far too often, there is no good solution.
I still think there is room for protesting to authorities, but perhaps with more humility. And why not, how about letting them know when we approve?
By the way, the quote from Luther should begin “Hier stehe ich”. The sich makes no sense in this context.
Comment by Walrus — August 15, 2006 @ 5:43 pm
First, YHWH was not in favor of Israel having kings, at all, if you recall.
Second, a postal note to one’s elected representatives constitutes a micro-election for them, and they can be swayed, even those who show so much arrogance that it hurts to listen to them.
I can pray for the President without approving his decisions, and I can grieve for the countless souls who have gone to Abraham’s bosom, early, as a result of those decisions.
The One who was victim for all of us abhors violence and the creation of yet more victims through violence.
Comment by Jim — August 16, 2006 @ 6:13 am
I like the points you make, Camassia (your posts are typically thought provoking). However, I’m not sure if writing a letter to a national (or state or local leader) is necessarily how you seem to describe it. For example, some folks view expressing their opinions, hopefully clearly and lovingly, as part of their obligation to be good citizens, which seems to have some support in the scriptures. The “divine right of the people” might be the underlying idea for this sort of reasoning for letter writing.
You do offer an interesting idea though in that “divine right” went from royalty and arostocracy to “the people”. Perhaps, there is no “divine right” in any of this?
Comment by Joe G. — August 16, 2006 @ 12:31 pm
Well, y’all may have a point that writing a letter to a political leader doesn’t have to carry all this baggage. But I think that I made that decision because for me it carries all this baggage. I’ve written letters to my elected representatives before, and that just came from a totally different universe of political discourse and thought than where my Christian pacifism comes from. The Way is not, to my mind, just a superior option in the conversation about how best to fulfill the national interest; it overthrows the whole idea of national interest. It does not promise near-term success, nor safety nor even survival. Why should a president listen to that, especially via letter from some stranger? The only other option seems to be to shut off my inner apocalypticist and write my opinion from a purely pragmatic perspective, but I have no better idea of how to pragmatically resolve the mess that is the Middle East than anyone else does. And it seems to invalidate the idea of it being a church project.
Comment by Camassia — August 16, 2006 @ 1:03 pm
I am always uncomfortable when Christians – right or left or in between – advocate a particular policy and claim that our political leaders should do it because “Jesus said so.” Given the conflicting notions that different Christians have, if that is the case, then clearly Jesus is very very confused.
However, I have no problem writing a letter or calling my Senator and advocating for or against a particular issue, provided that either I or a source I trust has some understanding of the issue at hand. And yes, I would use pragmatic arguments because it doesn’t make any sense to expect my secular government to share my pacifist convictions which arise out of my understanding of how God works in the world.
If I write about something on my blog, I don’t pretend not to be a person of faith, but I do try do present my opinions as just that – my opinions. (At least, I hope I do that.) One of the parts of my fundy upbringing that I hope I’ve left behind is the notion that “Real Christians have to have THIS opinion about whatever…”. It even bugs me when my fellow pacifists do it. I think there is a difference between saying, “In this particular situation, I think this is the best thing to do.” and saying “If we could only get the right people in charge with the right political/theological philosophy, then all would be happy and perfect.”
The world will always be pretty screwed up, I think, but within that, political leaders can make decisions that could achieve some real and concrete help for a lot of people. No social policy is perfect, but some are better than others, and I figure my opinion is just as valid as anyone else who is writing the President.
And I think it makes a big difference to say, “I am concerned about justice and human rights and poverty and such because interaction with those realities and the people it affects is an essential element of working out my own continuous conversion.”, and “I am concerned with these realities because I have all the answers of how to fix them, if only I could be put in charge.” There’s a lot more space for humility with the first attitude.
Comment by Christy — August 17, 2006 @ 6:48 pm
Not just the divine right of the People, but, increasingly, the divine right of the Market.
Comment by chutney — August 18, 2006 @ 8:21 am
another winner. blog addy’s changed: mwerntz.wordpress.com
Comment by myles — August 18, 2006 @ 11:10 am
Says Camassia, “the Bible doesn’t support the idea that anybody has a divine right to rule; God appoints leaders for the sake of public order, but they are constantly under judgment.” The American system invests authority in the people; the elected politicians are merely the people’s representatives. So if we the people are the God-appointed leaders of our particular system, and we are constantly under judgment, isn’t it our duty to act when our representatives are handling the work we’ve assigned to them incompetently or corruptly?
Says Christy regarding the divergent opinions about Jesus’ politics, “Given the conflicting notions that different Christians have, if that is the case, then clearly Jesus is very very confused.” Here’s a question I’ve posed to 2 evangelicals and 1 Mormon: In a democracy, does God endorse one particular position on every issue, such that some of us hear God’s voice aright when we vote while the rest don’t? These 3 people said “amen” to that proposition.
Here’s an alternative scenario for God working in democracy. Since God can see all sides of every issue, maybe he doesn’t arrive at a black-or-white evaluation. So he plays out a wide array of “what-if” scenarios, leading to different decisions under different assumptions. God then communicates the results of these cogitations to individual voters. The apparent disagreements among those who claim to have the mind of God on the issue reflect not a divergence between those with ears to hear vs. the deaf, but rather the complexity of God’s thinking. The individual disagreements are resolved only in the aggregate, when all the votes are cast and counted. So, e.g., God’s support of GWBush only slightly outweighed his support of JFKerry. Possible?
Comment by John Doyle — August 19, 2006 @ 12:23 pm