5 Guiding Precepts When Engaging in Politics

“Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven” are the words of the Lord’s Prayer. Orthodox Christianity has never held that, before His return, God’s kingdom will reign here on earth. The most just political regime is incomplete and imperfect compared with what is to come. But there are degrees of incomplete and imperfect, and these carry significant consequences; to acknowledge the limitations of an earthly kingdom cannot be an excuse for passivity. Political regimes fall on a continuum, and it matters a great deal if a regime is closer to establishing a thriving democracy than to establishing a tyranny.

True, Christian engagement with politics has its own potential drawbacks, among them a discrediting of the institutional church and its basic purposes, which continue to be salvific and personal in nature. In the quest to find the right balance, there is a need for guiding precepts to help shape our thinking and actions. We offer five.

1. Moral Duties

First, the moral duties placed on individuals are, in important respects, different from the ones placed on the state. The Sermon on the Mount presents profound moral teachings that ought to guide the lives of individual Christians; but it was not intended to be the basis for a political philosophy or a model of how the state ought to act.

The reason is fairly obvious: the state has powers and responsibilities that are different from, and sometimes denied to, individuals. The Bible in Romans 13 makes it clear that, for Christians and non-Christians alike, government is divinely sanctioned by God to preserve public order. But if we were simplistically to apply the standards of the individual to the practices of the state, we would end up arguing that, because individuals are called to “turn the other cheek,” the state should do the same—thereby making the criminal-justice system unworkable and invasions by foreign powers inevitable. Because we must not murder, should a nation never, under any circumstances, go to war?

Citizens in a self-governing nation need to abide by the laws even as they seek to change them.

Collapsing this distinction represents a fundamental misunderstanding of the role of government, which has invested in it powers of life, death, and coercion denied to individuals. These are powers that unfortunately are too often abused; sorting through matters of war and peace involves difficult moral choices, as we ourselves experienced during our White House years. Yet the same powers can be used to defend innocent lives and establish social order. They can also create the conditions that allow the church to exist, Christians to minister, and good works to be done. This is the reason why the callings of soldier, policeman, and president are not just permissible for Christians, but honorable.

2. The Institutional Church and Individual Christians

Second, the institutional church has roles and responsibilities distinct from those of individual Christians.

Individual Christians and the corporate body of Christ are not synonymous. To act otherwise is to get both into trouble. Moreover, to recognize the distinction between the responsibilities proper to the church and proper to the individual is to dignify the role of the layperson and ennoble the call of the citizen.

How so? Individual Christian laypeople may well possess special competence in a policy area—like health care or welfare, national security affairs or overseas development, legal philosophy or immigration policy—that the church simply doesn’t possess and shouldn’t be expected to possess. In this context, the role of the church, at least as we interpret it, is to provide individual Christians with a moral framework through which they can work out their duties as citizens and engage the world in a thoughtful way, even as it resists the temptation to instruct them on how to do their job or on which specific public policies they ought to embrace.

3. Scripture and Forms of Government

Third, Scripture does not provide a governing blueprint.

The New Testament gives instructions on how to pray, on how congregations should function and deacons should manage their households, on how husbands and wives should treat each other, and how to care for the aged. Yet it says almost nothing at all about what we would consider public policy.

This may be, in part, because of the circumstances in which Christians found themselves at the time the New Testament was written; Rome, after all, was largely hostile to the early followers of Jesus. But whatever the reason, Scripture simply does not offer detailed guidance on (to name just a handful of contemporary issues) trade; education; welfare; crime; health care; affirmative action; immigration; foreign aid; legal reform; drilling in the Arctic region in Alaska; climate change; and much else. And even on issues that many Christians believe the Bible does speak to, if sometimes indirectly—including poverty and wealth, abortion and same-sex marriage, capital punishment and euthanasia—nothing in the text speaks to the nature or extent of legislation or the kind of prudential steps that ought to be pursued.

Individual Christians and the corporate body of Christ are not synonymous.

On the other hand—and it is an important other hand—Christians as well as people of other faiths are provided with moral precepts that ought to guide them in pursuing justice and peace, human dignity and the moral good. If their careers happen to be in government, how should they go about it?

This is very tricky territory. People involved in public service need to determine as best they can what is the correct stand on an array of issues and what issues deserve to be given priority. We all recognize a hierarchy of moral concern, according to which matters like war, slavery, poverty, and the protection of innocent life occupy a higher plane than questions of mass transit and funding for public television. And most of us can agree that under certain circumstances, not only individual Christians but the church itself should speak out in specific ways against specific evils. But in the vast majority of cases, what we are talking about are prudential judgments about competing priorities, and we need to approach them with humility and open minds.

Honorable people have honest disagreements. Some reflect hard on what is right and find themselves coming down on the “liberal” side of things. Others reflect hard and find themselves coming down on the “conservative” side. Yet to govern is to choose—and those in public life have a duty to develop, as best they can, a sound political philosophy, to engage in rigorous moral reasoning, and to make sure they do not become so captive to ideology that they ignore empirical evidence. And then they have to pursue policies that they believe are right and wise.

4. Political involvement Takes Different Forms

Fourth, the form of political involvement adopted by Christian citizens is determined in part by the nature of the society in which they live.

If one lives in a thriving democracy, the duties of citizenship take a particular form. They range from paying taxes to voting, from serving in government to petitioning it, from speaking out in public forums to attending rallies and protests. Government is the “offspring of our own choice,” President Washington said in his Farewell Address—one that “has a just claim to [our] confidence and [our] support.”

People participating in a democratic process also need to abide by certain rules. Among them is accepting that on particular issues—including those on which one may have deep moral convictions—an individual may lose; and when defeat occurs, the verdict needs to be accepted. This does not mean one must agree with the decision, let alone consider it final; there are no closed questions in an open society. Even when the highest court in the land issues a judgment, the matter is not necessarily settled. We saw that with the Dred Scott decision and with Roe v. Wade. Citizens in a self-governing nation need to abide by the laws even as they seek to change them. In a republic like ours, this is a duty of citizenship.

But suppose one lived in an absolute monarchy, a police state, or an Iranian-style theocracy. Obviously one could have far less influence on the actions of the regime itself, and the duties of citizenship would be quite different. An individual might become a dissident—in some cases, a martyr. But at what point should a Christian rise up against a state that is illegal and illegitimate, and that engages in acts that are intrinsically evil? That is not so clear, and once again we are faced with scriptural verses that are difficult to reconcile.

In the book of 1 Peter, Christians are told to obey even unjust masters, for doing so provides a powerful witness. In his letter to the Christians in Rome, St. Paul wrote, “Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities.” (The governing authority then was Nero, who persecuted Christians and burned them at the stake.) Yet Christians are also taught that, if they are ever in conflict, their duty to God is higher than their duty to the state. “We must obey God rather than men,” St. Peter asserts when the apostles are forbidden to evangelize. Much depends on the exact nature of the historical circumstances, and on individuals’ sense of duty and responsibility.

Of us, living in the United States, martyrdom is not demanded. Being informed and engaged, acting decently and respectfully toward others, is quite enough.

5. Ancient Israel Is Not the Paradigm

Fifth, God does not deal with nations today as He did with ancient Israel.

Orthodox Christians believe, as do many Jews, that the Jews are a chosen people—chosen to be in a covenant with God and called as witnesses of a true faith among the nations. “For you are a people holy to the Lord your God. The Lord your God has chosen you out of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be his people, his treasured possession,” the book of Deuteronomy says.

The story of the Jews begins with Abraham, who left Mesopotamia for a land God called him to. In calling Abraham, God made a divine covenant that promised him a land, divine protection, and progeny as numerous as the sands of the shore. A later covenant at Sinai with the people of Israel specified rewards and punishments based on their faithfulness and conduct.

This needs to be set against other teachings and books in the Bible, including Job, where it seems that the sufferings that would befall Israel were not solely dependent on, or a consequence of, their moral behavior. Still, there was a belief in communal righteousness—that the sins of the few could lead to the punishment of the many. This in turn created a common ethic among the Hebrew people, an investment by all of its members in the integrity of the community.

What the Christian faith teaches us is that even in suffering there can be redemption.

Throughout American history, some people, especially the Puritans, believed that something similar applied to America. They believed that America, like Israel before it, had received a special calling from God, that it was set apart for divine purposes. Americans, too, were a “chosen people,” and America was seen as the “new” Israel, “entrusted with the responsibility of establishing a ‘righteous empire’ or a Christian commonwealth.”[1] For some, the logical corollary was that God would therefore deal with America just as He had dealt with Israel, dispensing blessings and curses according to its moral conduct.

However, this view simply melts under scrutiny. For one thing, it is exceedingly arrogant for an individual to believe he can discern the will of God and determine whether a particular tragedy is a manifestation of His judgment. For another, it raises a host of practical problems. Why would God’s wrath be directed toward America or Haiti, but not, say, Iran (a repressive Islamic theocracy), North Korea (a brutal police state), or China (a Communist nation that coerces women to have abortions)? What exactly are the sins that serve as the tripwire to divine wrath? Abortion and gay marriage—or wars and indifference to poverty? Removing God from the classroom—or not welcoming illegal aliens into our country? Is God’s judgment a response to outward behavior (e.g., infidelity) or to the inward spirit (e.g., pride and arrogance)?

One can see how this line of thinking can lead one into a thicket of confusion.

On a deeper level, we believe this interpretation of national sowing-and-reaping doesn’t correspond with a proper understanding of Christianity. While the Bible teaches God has judged nations, nowhere does it assume that all suffering is a sign of God’s displeasure. In fact, the most important symbol in Christianity is the cross, which represents suffering, agony, and death. Speaking to Ananias, who was instrumental in the conversion of St. Paul, Jesus says, “I will show [Paul] how much he must suffer for my name.” St. Paul himself, in the book of Timothy, writes, “Everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.” St. Peter speaks about the suffering that Christians will endure for doing good. And in the book of Romans we read that we are to rejoice in our suffering because it produces perseverance, and perseverance produces character, and character produces hope.

We ourselves don’t pretend to understand how and why God acts in tragic events and are skeptical of those who claim they do. Such interpretations are certainly not self-evident. Christians must reconcile their conviction that Jesus cares deeply for us and is involved in the affairs of man with suffering and tragedy writ small and writ large. It isn’t an easy thing to come to grips with.

What the Christian faith teaches us is that even in suffering there can be redemption; that this world, for all of its joys and sorrows, is not our home; and that at the end of our pilgrimage, beyond the sufferings of this world, there are streams of mercy, never ceasing.

[1] James Davison Hunter, “American Evangelicalism: Conservative Religion and the Quandary of Modernity” (1983), in Piety & Politics: Evangelicals and Fundamentalists Confront the World, ed. Richard John Neuhaus and Michael Cromartie, (Washington, D.C.: Ethics and Public Policy Center, 1987), 23.