Not very long ago, at the height of public awareness of the incarceration of undocumented Latin and South American migrants near the United States border, I just couldn’t help myself. I was talking about the unexpectedly abundant joy in the Kingdom of God, the mustard seed parable, and slipped a few sentences about the current events into my sermon. Sometimes supply pastors are able to address things that a seated pastor cannot, because they don’t have to face those congregation members Monday morning. And besides, it was a community just outside of New York City, so I expected it to lean a little further left than most. I did it in the most innocuous way, a sort of, “If I knew your congregation, I’d talk about this, but I don’t, so I won’t (even though I guess I just did).”
After worship ended, I had a long conversation with a dear, caring, faithful woman about a personal matter. In the beginning minutes of our chat, when she was still introducing herself, she mentioned how much she valued my sermon, “Except for that one part.” She didn’t have to specify further than that; I knew what she was talking about. And you, gentle reader, do as well.
It’s a sentiment that I hear often. Politics don’t belong in the church. And honestly, I think it’s true. Mixing them has led to great abuses in the past. Just ask the Mennonites about their earliest days in Europe. Or any nation that was once an European colony. The American idea of separation of church and state is not only a vital part of this country’s identity; it is also a very positive development in political theory overall. Politics certainly do not belong in the pulpit.
And yet, Jesus spoke to many political realities. Clearly the Church has some responsibility to speak to the realities of the day. Jesus spoke against the Pharisees and the Sadducees—both powers in the religious debates of his age. And many of his teachings went against the values of the Roman Empire, yet he refused also to the be the Roman-defeating Messiah that the Zealots wanted. If Jesus spoke to all the political sides of his day, why shouldn’t we?
I remember, just before the last presidential election in my country, sitting in the lobby of my dentist’s office, overhearing someone’s conversation. One person, someone I knew to be intelligent and thoughtful, explained why he was supporting a certain candidate. “I’m sick of politicians. I want to see how a businessman handles the job.” I briefly considered suggesting that we go in the back room, and see how a pastor (me) handles a dental cleaning (him), because to me, the idea was equally absurd.
The thing is, the Church is not qualified to do politics. That is not our field of expertise, and we would be best to leave it to the experts—that is, politicians, like it or not. But as often as people like to declare how immoral our politicians are, we might do well to remember that morality is not, in fact, the expertise of politicians. Traditionally, that has also been left to the experts: Religion.
Politics should stay completely out of the pulpit. The Church has no place to critique the policy of the state for its political value. But if we fail to critique our policies for their moral value, we are utterly failing in the job of being the Church.
You see, immigration is a political issue, but tearing children and parents apart is a moral issue. Government-subsidized healthcare is a political issue, but letting people die from treatable diseases because they can’t afford treatment is a moral issue. Funding sources is a political issue, but making sure all women (and everyone else) have access to full sexual and reproductive healthcare is a moral issue. Certifying ballots are cast fairly and appropriately in elections is a political issue, but ensuring that no person entitled to vote is denied access to their polling place based on someone’s political agenda is a moral issue.
Christians may not all be agreed on what our specific moral imperatives are. But I suspect that part of the reason that we are having such trouble sustaining the Church in this country is that we are not providing a “moral compass” for our members and our society. It is, admittedly, difficult for progressive Christians to do so. We acknowledge that every moral issue is a grey area, and rely on God’s grace while we “sin boldly,” making us wonder what the purpose of Christian morality, in fact, is. It is no wonder that the black-and-white, obedience-or-damnation fundamentalists have a louder voice. It is too difficult for us to find ours.
But until we find a way to proclaim a progressive, communal morality in a way that speaks powerfully to the whole Church and World even as it opposes the fear-based, individualistic system of our society, I suspect we will continue to be ineffective in responding to claims that we are putting politics where they don’t belong. And we will likely also continue to be ineffective in helping a broken world learn the Good News that it is loved by God, indwelling in the Spirit, for the sake of Jesus Christ. Our congregations will dwindle and die, and perhaps they should.
What would it look like for the mainline Church to start preaching morality again—while acknowledging that we disagree, and without having to give up our centeredness in grace through Jesus?