Christ and Politics

February 27, 2000

In his 1985 book Jesus Through the Centuries, Yale historian and theologian Jaroslav Pelikan provides a virtuoso summary history of the many images and understandings of Jesus Christ, down through the history of the Christian church to the present day:

For each age, writes Pelikan, the life and teachings of Jesus represented an answer (or, more often, the answer) to the most fundamental questions of human existence and of human destiny, and it was to the figure of Jesus as set forth in the Gospels that those questions were addressed.

The problem, as Pelikan soon demonstrates, is that the Gospels do not provide a clear and unambiguous image of who Jesus Christ really was. To quote Pelikan again, ". . .The presentation of Jesus in the New Testament is in fact itself a representation: it resembles a set of paintings more closely than it does a photograph. . . . Every later picture of Jesus is in fact not a picture based on an unretouched Gospel original, but a picture of what in the New Testament is already a picture."

Pelikan goes on to describe some of the more notable understandings of Jesus "through the centuries." There is Jesus as the Jewish Rabbi, whose early Jewish followers saw him variously and simultaneously as prophet, messiah, and Lord. There is Jesus as "the turning point in history," the pivot or hinge which has transformed history as we know it in all places and for all times. ". . .The entire history of Israel had reached its turning point in Jesus as prophet, as priest, and as king," writes Pelikan. After Jesus, this understanding of him says, history will never be the same.

Next, there is Jesus who, as "the light of the Gentiles," has come not just to the Jews, but to all people everywhere. There is Jesus "the King of Kings," the king above all earthly kings, come to usher in the Kingdom of God. "Because Jesus was King," writes Pelikan, "Christians could be provisionally loyal to Caesar; but because Jesus was King, they could not give Caesar the measure of loyalty that the best Caesars demanded. . . ." This dilemma of rendering unto God or Caesar remains with us to this day.

Then there is Jesus "the Cosmic Christ," the incarnate Word of God, who in the words of one of our hymns, "wert, and art, and is to be." There is the Jesus who supposedly referred to himself as the "Son of Man," a mysterious figure of apocalyptic expectation, but one in which the humanity of Jesus was also, paradoxically, emphasized.

There is Jesus "the True Image," against whom all other images are false and idolatrous, and Jesus as "Christ Crucified," whose death was his ultimate purpose, whose cross was his ultimate victory over death and evil; and Jesus as "the monk who rules the world," the inspiration for medieval monasticism, the original and "perfect" Monk; and Jesus as "the bridegroom of the soul" who can actually be embraced by the believer in the state of mystical union.

And there is more: Jesus as "the Divine and Human Model," the understanding of him probably most favored by early Unitarians and Universalists, and Jesus as "the Universal Man," the Jesus of the Gospels whose life and teachings were to be a perfect model for our own.

There is Jesus as "the Mirror of the Eternal," whom Luther called the true revelation of "the hidden God," and Jesus as "the Prince of Peace." the original pacifist who sometimes, paradoxically, wielded a sword, and Jesus as "the teacher of common sense." The latter is the Jesus whom Thomas Jefferson claimed to be able to separate from the "false" Jesus of myth and miracle, and whose rational teachings form the content of his expurgated and edited "Jefferson Bible." This Jesus was also popular among the Unitarians.

For the Romantic period there was Jesus as "the poet of the spirit," who reintroduced some of the mystery which Jefferson had removed. Our Transcendentalist ancestors such as Ralph Waldo Emerson fall into "the poet of the spirit" camp. For the German theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher, a major trancendentalist influence, this poetic Jesus was "a brilliant failure."

More recently, we have seen Jesus invoked as "the Liberator," the one who, as Pelikan writes, ". . .became--and in our time has become and is--a political force that overthrows empires, even so-called Christian empires." This is the Jesus of the contemporary liberation theologians, but it is also the Jesus of the great battle over the abolition of slavery, and later of the American Civil Rights movement. This is the Jesus who, Pelikan says,

. . .is seen as inverting his original statement (Matt. 4:4) to read that man shall not live by the word of God alone but by bread as well, as sanctioning not only militant non-violence but direct action, as not only blessing a spiritual poverty that awaits supernatural goods in the life to come but leading the poor of this world to natural goods in this life and in this world.

Finally, there is Jesus "the Man Who Belongs to the World," the one who is not only "the way, the truth, and the life," for Christians, but who also, in the words of the Gospel of John, "enlightens everyone who comes into the world." In other words, we have the Jesus who is not for Christians alone, but for everyone, whether they are or become Christians or not.

So which is it, G. W.? James Carroll's question, "Which Christ is Bush's model?" [from the morning's reading] is a good and legitimate one, because clearly there is not just one Jesus Christ to whom we may claim allegiance, but many Jesus Christs competing. All of this season's Presidential candidates have wrapped themselves in one way or another in the cloak of Jesus Christ, but one legitimately wonders if it is same "hem of his garment" that they are all touching? Since most of them feel little need to do more than invoke the name, we are not likely to find out. And one wonders what effect these excessive claims to Christian piety must be having on our Jewish neighbors, and our Islamic neighbors (who now outnumber our Episcopalian neighbors in this country), and our Hindu and Buddhist neighbors? How do they understand such exclusivistic claims to righteousness?

The problem of mixing religion and politics is, of course, not a new one. But this year's candidates seem to have taken that mixing to a new pitch. One must question their sincerity, as clearly the acquisition of votes lies behind much of their Christian posturing. And we know from his voting record, if in no other way, that when Al Gore invokes Jesus Christ, he is not talking about the same Jesus Christ as George W. Bush, and certainly not the same Jesus Christ as Gary Bauer or Alan Keyes. Frankly, I find truth in William Ellery Channing's suggestion from another century that "to confess Jesus at the present moment argues no moral courage. It may even betray a servility and worldliness of mind."

While we may feel some smug reassurance that all of our Presidential candidates are such supposedly "religious" men, there is ever a danger of combustion in this combination of religion and politics. And as the Unitarian Channing warned, "Unhappily, public men under all governments are, of all moral guides, the most unsafe, the last for a Christian to follow."

Of course, claiming to be a Christian, and "born again," is as easy as it is popular. I could claim it myself, and neither you nor I would be the wiser. Claiming Jesus Christ as the "political philosopher" one most admires is a cop out. If Jesus was a political philosopher, his philosophy was chameleonism. How else could he manage to have been claimed by so many disparate groups down through the centuries? Later in the article from which I quoted this morning, James Carroll writes, "It is not too much to say that the American idea--universal freedom of conscience protected by government--was born at least partly out of the way the one name of Jesus Christ was used to advance opposite political agendas." That one name, I would submit, is still being used in the same way.

We should always be skeptical not only of excessive claims to piety, but also of the mixing of religion and politics. We should be especially skeptical about any and all contemporary efforts to paint the United States as a homogeneously "Christian nation." For as James Madison warned long ago, "Who does not see [that] the same authority which can establish Christianity in exclusion of all other religions may establish with the same care, any particular sect of Christians in the exclusion of all other sects?"

Former New York Governor Mario Cuomo, in a speech delivered at Notre Dame University, spoke of the necessity in America of respecting religious pluralism: "I protect my right to be Catholic," Cuomo told his mostly Catholic audience, "by preserving your right to believe as a Jew, a Protestant, or non-believer, or as anything else you choose. We know that the price of seeking to force our beliefs on others is that they might some day force theirs on ours."

Rather than glib invocations of the name of Jesus and claims about how he has changed their hearts, I would like to see more demonstrations from our candidates of how Jesus' teaching has influenced their understanding of what constitutes justice. With the Boston clergy mentioned in the Globe editorial from which I read this morning, I would like to hear less talk, and see more action. And since Jesus said absolutely nothing--zippo--about two of the great moral questions of our day--homosexuality and abortion--I would like to stop hearing the name of Jesus Christ invoked on those questions at all.

"The first element of a nation's honor," said Channing, "is undoubtedly justice." Who best represents justice, as we value it religiously? "A government may, and should, ennoble the mind of the citizen, but holding up to him the idea of the common good," said Channing. Who is most capable of holding up the idea of the common good?

Ultimately, a person's religious values must be sought in what he or she does, not in what they say. Actions always speak louder than words. We should not be fooled by those who claim to be religious, no matter how sincere they sound or claim to be.

Channing, who was not a politician, of course, but a minister, was a great man not because he talked a lot about being a Christian, but because he acted as a Christian; that is, as he believed a Christian should act. He lived his Christianity by being benevolent, public spirited, and charitable. He was interested in the common good. And so he was instrumental in the founding of Massachusetts General Hospital, the McLean Asylum, the Massachusetts Historical Society, the Perkins Institute for the Blind, the Boston Public Library, the Boston Athenaeum, the Charitable Mechanic Association, the Boston Workingman's Bank, and the Peace Society of Massachusetts. He broke silence on slavery (twenty years before the Civil War) even though it cost him the friendship of many in his congregation, and ultimately cost him his pulpit. He spoke out in defense of his Catholic brothers and sisters when they were victimized by Protestant bigotry. When he died, the bells of Boston's Catholic churches tolled in his honor. He became the embodiment of the "Christian" values he held dear.

Christ and politicians will always make strange bedfellows. Whether a candidate is politically to the left or the right, invocation of the name of Jesus Christ will always be suspect. The closest Jesus ever came to a political endorsement, as far as we know, was in his suggestion that we "render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's. It was ambiguous then, and it's still ambiguous now.

In the long run, claiming to be Christian doesn't mean a whole lot, especially if you are a politician. Let us ask more of our elected officials than their allegiance to a name, however sacred that name may be. Let us ask that they act in ways which enhance the common human good. Though the means may differ on how they reach that goal, I believe with all my heart that the ends, if they are truly accomplished for that common good, will justify the means. And I believe that despite all easy invocation and pietistic subterfuge, we will recognize the good when we see it, and not a second before. May it be thus, for us and our children, for all the days to come. Amen.

The Rev. Harold E. Babcock