Tim Høiland
20Sep/11Off

Politics, religion and the lost art of persuasion

I finished reading City of Man: Religion and Politics in a New Era a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve been sitting on it, mulling it over, ever since. It’s an important book, warranting a great deal of careful thought, and it’s also one of those rare books on US politics that actually does more to promote civil discourse in the public square than to erode it.

The book’s authors, Michael Gerson and Peter Wehner, are both conservatives -- and political insiders at that. Gerson, as you may know, was a top aide and speechwriter for George W. Bush. He’s also a syndicated columnist for the Washington Post, and a senior advisor at ONE. Wehner is a senior fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center, a DC think tank. He previously served in the Reagan and Bush (I and II) administrations.

The central question of the book is one both urgent and timeless:

What does it mean to be a Christian citizen in history’s most influential nation; in a world marked by growing interconnection, danger, and need; in a time of bitter domestic polarization and economic stress?

The first part of the answer is that there are more than two political options, odd as that may seem to us in twenty-first century America. As Gerson and Wehner write, Christians throughout history have formulated quite an array of differing -- and, in some cases, diametrically opposed -- political approaches that can’t be summed up by the overly limiting categories of right and left. Here are some of the main ones:

  • Constantinian: “wanted the church to govern earthly affairs, so as to bring society better into line with their understanding of God’s will.”
  • Augustinian: “the purpose of the state is to restrain evil and to advance justice.”
  • Anabaptist: “Christian allegiance should be to the kingdom of God alone.”
  • Lutheran: “two kingdoms, one carnal and the other spiritual, each needing to remain separate from the other and each making its own legitimate demands.”
  • Calvinist: “God [is] not only Lord and Creator but ‘a Governor and Preserver...’ The sovereignty of God, in other words, extends to all spheres, including all human institutions.”
  • Kuyperian: “three spheres -- the Church, the State, and Society -- each distinct but interrelated with the others, all part of the created order, all governed by God.”
  • Barthian: “the state... like the church, served Christ’s divine purposes beyond simply restraining evil.”
  • Niebuhrian: “believed in the necessity of politics in the struggle for social justice.”
  • Falwellian: “restoring America’s ‘moral sanity’ as an urgent Christian imperative.”

For that survey alone, the book is more than worthwhile. But that’s just the first chapter. Gerson and Wehner go on to outline, with conviction and grace, broad principles for Christian participation in politics. As conservatives, they take predictable stances on a variety of issues, but as Ron Sider writes in his endorsement on the book jacket, “one need not agree with all the assumptions or arguments to find this book a significant contribution to Christian reflection on where our nation should go.”

Politics, they write, presents us with an “unavoidable tension”: while a politicized faith has its dangers, “there is also moral abdication when faith ignores the opportunity for ‘genuine ethical action,’” a term borrowed from John Perkins. They point out the failures of the Religious Right, and urge us not to make the same mistakes -- whether on the right or on the left. Rather, they urge discernment, faithful engagement, and above all, an emphasis on persuasion rather than attack. “If you would win a man to your cause,” said Abraham Lincoln, “first convince him that you are his sincere friend.”

In a polarized political climate that is anything but civil, in which demonizing and mudslinging are the norm, where cable news channels teach us that the way to discuss politics is to see who can yell the loudest, a book like this is a breath of fresh air. It’s practical, and true to both theology and history. Borrowing from Augustine, Gerson and Wehner conclude with both determination and hope: “The City of Man is our residence for now, and we care for its order and justice. The City of God is our home.”

4Mar/10Off

Body parts

Like many people these days, I'm a bit of a mutt, spiritually speaking. My parents grew up Lutheran, and I was baptized in a Lutheran church in southern California early on. While living in Guatemala City we attended an interdenominational church with a pastor who was Presbyterian. During brief stints in Los Angeles and Dallas we were part of the Evangelical Covenant Church. As a teenager, after our family moved to a largely Mennonite area, I was confirmed Methodist. In college I joined an independent evangelical megachurch where I was, in a manner of speaking, ana-baptized.

Among my favorite spiritual writers are Presbyterians, Catholics, Quakers, Anglicans, Mennonites, Baptists, evangelicals, and of course, fellow mutts. It's all very complicated, I know.

Here in San Rafael, like much of rural Latin America, there are basically two categories as far as religion goes: evangelical and Catholic. Not much room for mutts is what I'm saying.

Maybe you've found a category that fits you like a glove, or maybe you were born into one and have never had reason to question it. But increasingly, we Christians aren't sure where we fit. Have you noticed that even churches belonging to specific denominations are leaving those details off their building signs and website banners? We're not sure which labels to align ourselves with, or even whether labels are good for anything in the first place.

For all these reasons I found Streams of Living Water by Richard Foster to be very encouraging. The book is about what Foster describes as the six traditions, or streams, of Christianity through history:

The Contemplative Tradition (the prayer-filled life)
The Holiness Tradition (the virtuous life)
The Charismatic Tradition (the Spirit-empowered life)
The Social Justice Tradition (the compassionate life)
The Evangelical Tradition (the word-centered life)
The Incarnational Tradition (the sacramental life)

Foster's burden is to show that these six streams, at their best, strengthen each other. They're not to be pitted against each other, but instead just emphasize different parts of the Christian life and faith that we should all, in some measure, embrace. But rather than viewing each stream as a valid and interrelated expression, doesn't it seem that we Christians have all too often huddled around those who see things the way we do, doing whatever necessary to avoid and/or de-legitimize everyone else?

While reading through the New Testament not too long ago, I was struck by just how insistent Paul, Peter, John and others were about the utter importance of unity within the Church. Evangelicals may do a good job of preaching what the Bible teaches, but without social justice folks in the mix, the teaching runs the risk of remaining abstract. Similarly, social justice Christians are all about taking action, but without contemplatives by their side, they're probably going to burn out.

In the end, I think the Bible is clear in teaching that God has created us and continues to mold us each differently, and that the reason he does this is because together we are the body of Christ -- not a homogeneous bunch of feet or hands or heads or small intestines.

Basically, I guess what I'm saying is this: if I'm a lung and I continue to spend all my time with lungs and together we pick fights with those good-for-nothing hearts and kidneys and spinal cords and tonsils and ligaments and kneecaps, I shouldn't be surprised if the body is sick. On the other hand, when I'm able to recognize that by their very existence hearts and kidneys and spinal cords and tonsils and ligaments and kneecaps and every other unique and irreplaceable part together enable lungs to do what only lungs can do, we might all be a lot better off. And when the parts of the body are working in harmony, there's no telling what might happen.