This is a sorry excuse for a blog, but to the extent that there are themes I find a need to post on, they are the role of faith in American politics (which I've studied a little) and the future of social media and the church (which I'm just getting interested in). This week, I've seen a confluence of all three on the USCCB fan page.
The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops runs a decent online presence - a Facebook page that works as another media relations outlet, a Twitter feed, probably some other stuff. A few weeks ago they posted a note about which cities had the most FB fans, which was fun, sparked me to try to get friends to sign up, and showed they have an interest in engaging their fans.
And then, health care reform popped up. The Conference issued a statement earlier this week opposing federal health reform, and a funny thing happened - FB fans treated it like they would any other post. They argued, sometimes in great detail, sometimes not. They asked questions. They reacted.
I don't know what transpired within the USCCB media shop, or how many bishops actually look at the page, but at least the people who run the fan page took notice. They responded. They refereed a little. A couple times, they got swept up in the conversation.
What fascinates me about this is not the issue of health care and the Church's position per se. (No, really, I mean that!) It's what this sort of interaction might mean in the future. To a much greater degree than ever before, the Church is being forced into a more interactive mode of communication with its members, which is an incredible challenge. There are less than 15,000 fans on the FB site, compared to, what, 70 million total members, but the few fans who participated in comments on the USCCB's wall showed a wide diversity of opinion, a wide range of knowledge about the issue, and a fair bit of expressed loyalty to the church and its leaders. The fact that the Catholic Health Association and scores of female religious orders took a different position on the issue sparked even more controversy.
It seems to me that this is the beginning of a new phase in the Church that it will embrace, fight, or both. The Church has been labeled often over the years as hierarchical, and I don't think I need to dwell on that point. The web, and particularly social media, are flat. A hierarchical Church can issue a statement with only limited (and relatively slow) response from dissenters among its members. A flat church will find the need and the opportunity to interact with supporters, opponents, and undecideds or mixed among its members in a much more significant way - they will get questions directly, and the opportunity to "show their work" by walking through the thinking, the Scripture, the tradition behind the rationale for a position.
Such interaction is time and thought-intensive. It is challenging, not only in the sense of being hard but also in the sense that it will feel like the authority of the Church is being challenged. The Church may choose to ignore this change, may approach respondents with a "take it or leave it" approach. It shouldn't. If the Church's positions are worth accepting, they are worth explaining in as much detail as the faithful need. Maybe more controversially, the Church may need to recognize that sometimes the people posting comments opposed to the official Church position might have some valid points that can improve the Church's vision.
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Friday, March 19, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Paying Taxes, Citizenship, and issues of faith
Purpose Driven Connection's Scot McKnight has an interesting piece on paying taxes as a form of worship.
He cites a lot of the same passages I've used here, so as you might guess, I generally agree. I might argue that he goes too far by calling it worship, though.
He cites a lot of the same passages I've used here, so as you might guess, I generally agree. I might argue that he goes too far by calling it worship, though.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Opening argument
Personally and professionally, I’ve been confronted with a situation that has caused me to resuscitate some theological struggling I last put down more than 13 years ago: what does it mean to be a person of faith and an American citizen? In my work for an issue-based advocacy organization, and in my dealings with colleagues, friends and family, I’ve been struck full in the face by this sense that segments of our society have cultivated a set of behaviors that are, in a word, idolatrous.
Here’s what I mean: I have always struggled with people who easily identify their political views with God’s will. But what I’ve seen more of lately, and what troubles me even more, are my encounters with people who appear to care more fervently about whether you believe in the political worldview they subscribe to than whether you believe in the God they subscribe to. It happens on both sides of the political aisle, and it happens with things beyond politics, and my guess is it happens to everyone at some point or another, me included. But it bugs me when I hear someone talking and think, “If this person had to choose between his or her political leaders and his or her God, God would lose every time.” Or “This person really believes that the world will be brought to ruin if his or her side loses.”
Frankly, I’d like to blame media for this. I’d like to say that eddies of political society have created multiple communication channels that attract adherents to surround themselves with messages that create this insular worldview that “we” are uniquely and profoundly right and everyone who does not fully adhere to our worldview is “other.” And I believe that there are elements of political society that are intentionally creating not only these interlocking webs of communication for that purpose but are instilling an urgency that pushes the unsuspecting into the vortex. But the truth is, we each bear responsibility to some degree for the choices we make. And the other truth is, we as a community of believers need to more openly grapple with what is and isn’t the appropriate place for our citizenship within our faith-infused lives.
So…how should we as Christians interact with our political process? Let’s start with what we have and don’t have in Scripture. Perhaps the least ambiguous statement on government in the New Testament is Romans 13:1-7, which begins “Let every person be subordinate to the higher authorities, for there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been established by God.” If you think this was an outlying approach, consider Colossians 1:16 (“…thrones or dominions or principalities or powers….were created through him and for him.”) or John 19:11 (Jesus to Pilate: “You would have no power over me if it had not been given to you from above.”) or Titus 3:1 (“Remind them to be under the control of magistrates and authorities, to be obedient, to be open to every good enterprise.”) or Proverbs 8:15-16 (“By me kings reign, and lawmakers establish justice; By me princes govern, and nobles; all the rulers of earth.”) or Wisdom 6:3, where kings are told “authority was given you by the Lord and sovereignty by the Most High.” All of these seem to point to a very conservative view of political authority – not in the sense of the term conservative we use in political discourse but in a much simpler and more direct sense that we ought not buck the powers that be, because God put them there, whether we like them or not.
I’ll come back to that later, because there’s another point that is more specific to our culture that renders a lot of this stream of passages, if not moot, at least qualified: in a democracy, we citizens are ourselves the governing authority, kings and magistrates reference above. So in our society, if the sum of these passages is that we as citizens should do our duty as commanded by our political structure, we are being pushed not to a passive submission but to an active participation in the democratic process. For what duties does a democracy encumber upon its subjects but to participate?
Maybe that needs some further arguing. We’ll see. But let me take that point and run with it for now. If we this first round of passages orders us to be subjects of the political structure, and the political structure orders us to be active participants, then are there any limits to our activity, and to what extent do we engage our faith in that activity?
In terms of limiting our activity as citizens, maybe we should start with what Jesus did and said. Two passages come to mind: one common, one a little obscure. Matthew 22:15-22 is the common one: “render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what belongs to God.” This was a response to a pretty concrete question: was it lawful for Jews to pay taxes to Caesar? But the import is more than that. It brings the first commandment very much into play: You shall not have other gods besides me. Add to this what Jesus did in John 6:14-15. After feeding the crowds, he “knew that they were going to come and carry off to make him king.” So what did he do? “[H]e withdrew again to the mountain alone.” When political power is offered to him, Jesus turns his back and leaves it behind. The kingdoms of this world are not what He is here for.
In that refusal to seize power (something the Messiah was expected to do), Jesus shows us that this life isn’t the last or most important one. Every human institution needs to be seen in that light. Pursuing the common good through political structures can be good. Work can be good. Marriage and families can be good. But none of these things are God, and each should be evaluated primarily if not solely through the lens of whether they help or hinder us in our calling, which is to love God and love our neighbor. Whenever we care more about a human institution more than about God, we break the first commandment. When we elevate our political aims above God’s, or equate the two, we are rendering unto Caesar what is God’s. So we can argue about how best to benefit the common good. Conservatives can argue, for instance, that a State that is not strictly limited will by its nature seek to usurp God in the lives of its subjects. Liberals can argue with James 2:14-17 that if we are to live up to the commandment to love our neighbor, we ought to use every tool available to ensure that neighbor is fed, clothed and cared for. And we can advocate and organize as citizens in these efforts. But we have to remember that whether our side wins or loses an issue is less important than whether we remember that our commandment is to love God and our neighbor, and that our opponent in political struggle is fundamentally that neighbor. That is the ultimate prophetic judgment that will always serve as a caution to all who would be faithful citizens.
Here’s what I mean: I have always struggled with people who easily identify their political views with God’s will. But what I’ve seen more of lately, and what troubles me even more, are my encounters with people who appear to care more fervently about whether you believe in the political worldview they subscribe to than whether you believe in the God they subscribe to. It happens on both sides of the political aisle, and it happens with things beyond politics, and my guess is it happens to everyone at some point or another, me included. But it bugs me when I hear someone talking and think, “If this person had to choose between his or her political leaders and his or her God, God would lose every time.” Or “This person really believes that the world will be brought to ruin if his or her side loses.”
Frankly, I’d like to blame media for this. I’d like to say that eddies of political society have created multiple communication channels that attract adherents to surround themselves with messages that create this insular worldview that “we” are uniquely and profoundly right and everyone who does not fully adhere to our worldview is “other.” And I believe that there are elements of political society that are intentionally creating not only these interlocking webs of communication for that purpose but are instilling an urgency that pushes the unsuspecting into the vortex. But the truth is, we each bear responsibility to some degree for the choices we make. And the other truth is, we as a community of believers need to more openly grapple with what is and isn’t the appropriate place for our citizenship within our faith-infused lives.
So…how should we as Christians interact with our political process? Let’s start with what we have and don’t have in Scripture. Perhaps the least ambiguous statement on government in the New Testament is Romans 13:1-7, which begins “Let every person be subordinate to the higher authorities, for there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been established by God.” If you think this was an outlying approach, consider Colossians 1:16 (“…thrones or dominions or principalities or powers….were created through him and for him.”) or John 19:11 (Jesus to Pilate: “You would have no power over me if it had not been given to you from above.”) or Titus 3:1 (“Remind them to be under the control of magistrates and authorities, to be obedient, to be open to every good enterprise.”) or Proverbs 8:15-16 (“By me kings reign, and lawmakers establish justice; By me princes govern, and nobles; all the rulers of earth.”) or Wisdom 6:3, where kings are told “authority was given you by the Lord and sovereignty by the Most High.” All of these seem to point to a very conservative view of political authority – not in the sense of the term conservative we use in political discourse but in a much simpler and more direct sense that we ought not buck the powers that be, because God put them there, whether we like them or not.
I’ll come back to that later, because there’s another point that is more specific to our culture that renders a lot of this stream of passages, if not moot, at least qualified: in a democracy, we citizens are ourselves the governing authority, kings and magistrates reference above. So in our society, if the sum of these passages is that we as citizens should do our duty as commanded by our political structure, we are being pushed not to a passive submission but to an active participation in the democratic process. For what duties does a democracy encumber upon its subjects but to participate?
Maybe that needs some further arguing. We’ll see. But let me take that point and run with it for now. If we this first round of passages orders us to be subjects of the political structure, and the political structure orders us to be active participants, then are there any limits to our activity, and to what extent do we engage our faith in that activity?
In terms of limiting our activity as citizens, maybe we should start with what Jesus did and said. Two passages come to mind: one common, one a little obscure. Matthew 22:15-22 is the common one: “render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what belongs to God.” This was a response to a pretty concrete question: was it lawful for Jews to pay taxes to Caesar? But the import is more than that. It brings the first commandment very much into play: You shall not have other gods besides me. Add to this what Jesus did in John 6:14-15. After feeding the crowds, he “knew that they were going to come and carry off to make him king.” So what did he do? “[H]e withdrew again to the mountain alone.” When political power is offered to him, Jesus turns his back and leaves it behind. The kingdoms of this world are not what He is here for.
In that refusal to seize power (something the Messiah was expected to do), Jesus shows us that this life isn’t the last or most important one. Every human institution needs to be seen in that light. Pursuing the common good through political structures can be good. Work can be good. Marriage and families can be good. But none of these things are God, and each should be evaluated primarily if not solely through the lens of whether they help or hinder us in our calling, which is to love God and love our neighbor. Whenever we care more about a human institution more than about God, we break the first commandment. When we elevate our political aims above God’s, or equate the two, we are rendering unto Caesar what is God’s. So we can argue about how best to benefit the common good. Conservatives can argue, for instance, that a State that is not strictly limited will by its nature seek to usurp God in the lives of its subjects. Liberals can argue with James 2:14-17 that if we are to live up to the commandment to love our neighbor, we ought to use every tool available to ensure that neighbor is fed, clothed and cared for. And we can advocate and organize as citizens in these efforts. But we have to remember that whether our side wins or loses an issue is less important than whether we remember that our commandment is to love God and our neighbor, and that our opponent in political struggle is fundamentally that neighbor. That is the ultimate prophetic judgment that will always serve as a caution to all who would be faithful citizens.
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