“I just don’t think religion and politics should have anything to do with each other,” she said, and I was ready to argue right away. I have a history of being argumentative. I seem always to have an opinion, and I seem always to be ready to know how right I am, and this situation was no different. I was in the office of a friend and we were talking about religion because we’re both religious people who work for religious institutions. And we were talking about politics because we live in America in the 21st century.
Looking back on that conversation, I think one of the reasons I was so prepared to argue with her about religion and politics is that I used to agree with her. You know, there’s just nothing more obnoxious than the fervor and certainty of a convert – and I certainly am one of those. I used to say that religion and politics have nothing to do with each other. I knew how right I was about that and loved knowing what I knew and loved arguing with people who thought otherwise. But just a few months before this conversation I had been converted. I had come to believe that religion and politics are connected. So I was locked and loaded, ready to prove to her what I had learned.
I remember saying, well, what about slavery? Do you think that God was neutral about the American practice of kidnapping, trafficking, and enslaving people for profit?
And she immediately said, “Well of course not. But that’ s not politics – that’s about morality. That’s about humanity.” And I decided not to argue with her in that moment.
I didn’t stop arguing because I thought she was right. I stopped because I was (and am) working on not trying to win every conversation, and instead working on the discipline of listening and seeing how to sit with what someone says. Yes, I know, I’m very grown up. I did not at the moment think she was right. Specifically, I believed that slavery – and the abolition of it in America – were in fact very political.
I want to pause here and confess to you that I do not have a track record of being a big history buff. I’m not against learning about history – I just have not gravitated towards it throughout my life. If you’re looking for easy ways to judge me, here’s a little gift for you: I came to understand that the abolition of slavery was political by watching a movie. Not even a Ken Burns documentary or anything. I watched that Steven Spielberg movie called “Lincoln” starring Irish actor Daniel Day-Lewis as Abraham Lincoln. Yes, I saw it in the theaters and that is how I learned about the circumstances surrounding the passing of the 13th Amendment.
And, hey, I’m sure some of the details were fudged, bent, dramatized – but one of the things that movie makes plain is that the abolition of slavery in America was accomplished not simply by a war or by an executive order, but by politics. It was a political act.
Ok, so back to me and my friend and our disagreement which never quite became an argument. I know I didn’t agree with her, and maybe I still don’t agree with her – but what if she’s right? Or at least, what if I decided to separate for a moment the partisan politics that often seem to consume our collective consciousness from basic questions of morality and humanity?
That is to say, what if I refrain for a moment from thinking about parties and sides and conservative and liberal and ideological and economic preferences. I know they matter, I know. They are not immaterial, but what if I put them to the side for a moment? In the Episcopal Church we have something called the Baptismal Covenant. It is a statement of belief in foundational Christian doctrine followed by a set of promises as to how we will seek to live into our Chrisitan faith. And in that Covenant, we explicitly promise to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as our self. We then promise to strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.
And it is a “we” not just an “I” or “me”. Which is to say we make these promises in community and as a community. Because the Christian life is shared. It is both individual and corporate – I am an individual who is part of a whole. I am me and I exist as part of us.
If I want to approach the world through a Christian lens then, before I asked what is conservative or liberal, what is Republican or Democrat, what is libertarian or socialist, what is Red or Blue, what is MAGA or Antifa, I would begin by saying what does it look like to try to create a community, a culture, a country that seeks and serves Christ in every person, that strives for justice and peace, that respects the dignity of every human being? That seems like a fairly good guideline for a Christian approach to morality and humanity.
So, politics aside, do I believe in heavily armed masked men detaining people in the streets based on their looks, the color of their skin, their accents? Do I believe in families being separated and kept in cages in my country? Do I believe in imprisonment and deportation without due process? Do these things seem moral to me? Do they seem humane?
Do I believe that might makes right? Do I believe in threatening to conquer sovereign countries? Do I believe in sending troops into sovereign countries and kidnapping their leaders? Do I believe in my country killing people from other countries simply because they are suspected of being criminals? I’m not asking about politics: I’m asking is it moral? Is it humane?
Do I believe in using dehumanizing language and arguments about people who are of a different race than me, different sexuality than me, different gender identity than me? Do I believe in banning books, in forbidding words, in limiting the knowledge and exploration of topics that make me uncomfortable?
Do I believe anyone deserves to be homeless, anyone deserves to go hungry, anyone should go without proper medical care? Do I believe that wealthy people deserve more rights and opportunities than poor people or middle-class people?
Jesus is not a fairy tale or an abstraction. He walked the earth and had real human experiences. His teachings were connected to the real world and the actual lives and concerns of the people around him. These are the concerns of our lives here and now. Which means Jesus is present and active in them. Jesus cares. God is not neutral. And God is not elsewhere.
I’m grateful for my friend’s perspective. I’m grateful for the opportunity to forget about my political allegiances and ideological preferences for a moment and just ask questions about what is moral and humane and good and right: About what kind of people we want to be, about what kind of people God would have us be. Sure I think it’s all political. But even if I’m wrong, the work is the work: To create systems that take peace and justice and love and mercy seriously, that seek the divine in each person, that honor the dignity of every human being. Political or not, the work is the work. May God give us the courage to do it.
