Politics & The Bible I

“When people say that the Bible and politics don’t mix, I ask them which Bible they are reading.” - Desmond Tutu.

I get Tutu's point but - in this run up to the 2015 UK general election - it is important to be a little more nuanced than that, I think.

In Old Testament times, in Israel and Judea, religion and politics were closely intertwined: their scripture was also their legal system (much like Sharia in some countries today), and their rulers claimed to be divinely appointed. It didn't go well, hence the prophets 'speaking truth to power' ... and being persecuted for it.

In New Testament times Christianity was too weak to have political influence. That didn't go well either: Jesus was crucified by those who did have political influence and power, and the early church was heavily persecuted.

Oddly enough that doesn't stop the New Testament's writings from being heavily political. I've spoken elsewhere about the political relevance of terms like 'goods news', 'Christ', and 'son of god'; but it is also true that Paul's letters were, in places, extremely political. As a spokesperson for faith without secular power, Paul could not directly challenge the political 'hot potatoes' of the day, but he could and did challenge the underlying suppositions.

On example is that the whole of Roman and Greek society depended totally upon slavery - it would have ceased to function without it. Nothing Paul could say was going to change that. However, slavery in practice depends upon the idea that slave-owners are superior to their slaves. Paul taught that in Jesus there is no difference, that all are of equal worth: slave or free, male or female, Jew, Greek or foreigner (see for example his letter to the Galatian Church).

This remains political in today's world, nearly two thousand years later! Just think of debates about immigration in Europe and in North America, rights of women in South Asia and the Middle East, domestic and sexual slavery in Saudi Arabia, London, Thailand and many, many other places.

There is an enormous amount about politics in the Bible, but nothing - inevitably, if you think about it - about party politics.

In the 2012 London Assembly elections there were candidates standing for the 'Christian Peoples Alliance', a newish party supposedly representing a Christian viewpoint in politics. Inevitably they didn't actually represent very many individual Christian's viewpoints when it came down to it - they certainly don't represent mine - and they only gained 1.8% of the vote, getting no seats.

On the other hand, all three of the current main parties had MPs in the recently dissolved parliament who are explicitly Christians. Indeed there is an all-party parliamentary group called Christians in Parliament, who share a common faith and common belief in the Bible whilst also holding a variety of political viewpoints. They clearly believe that faith and politics not only can mix, but that they should mix. Yet they mix them in different ways. How can that be?

I'll go into the question of what the Bible says versus the policies of different political parties in the next post, but I just want to finish this one with another quote from Desmond Tutu:

“If you want to keep people subjugated, the last thing you place in their hands is a Bible. There's nothing more radical, nothing more revolutionary, nothing more subversive against injustice and oppression than the Bible.”

Through The Wilderness

The old Humphrey Bogart movie Casablanca is a great film to think about over Lent, as it is set in a kind of a wilderness: a staging post for refugees moving on from Occupied France, hoping to get to somewhere better. Sadly, seventy years later, this is still happening, but that's not my point today.

When we think of being in the wilderness, we are inclined to think of loneliness and deprivation, I suspect. Yet to the Jews of Jesus' day, the wilderness was a reminder of the Moses story.

Moses fled to the wilderness from the fleshpots of Egypt, and there found God in a burning bush. He later led the Israelites through the wilderness to the Promised Land, via Mt Sinai where the Law was given to Moses by God. For the Jews the wilderness is a place to meet God, to go back to basics, and to be transformed.

Just as Moses was transformed from a violent murderer into a (reluctant) bringer of freedom to his people, and as the Israelites were transformed from a rabble of slaves to a nation marching into their new homeland, so we can find our mission and our calling as we travel through our wilderness this Lent.

For Jesus the wilderness was a place to work out his mission. He had been affirmed by God at his baptism, "You are my son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased," now he needed to work out what being God's Son looked like in practice.

Should he seek power to make changes? Should he demonstrate God's provision by ensuring he had plenty himself? Should he give public demonstrations of God's miraculous power, to convince the sceptics? Or should he serve and give hope to the poor whilst challenging the rich and powerful, leading the way through consequent suffering and death to resurrection?

I'm not sure what my wilderness is this Lent. I realise that this is leaving things more than a little late, but I suspect the Holy Spirit will find a way. I am sure that I, like you, have a calling, a commission, to serve and to bring hope, to challenge and to bring change. And that I, like you, am affirmed by God: "You are my child, whom I love; with you I am well pleased."

May your Lent be hopeful and productive, and may your year ahead be a fruitful one.

The Evil That Men Do

I came across a quote from Canon Andrew White - the 'vicar of Baghdad' - recently. He had been asked why IS hates Christians and other minorities so much, and he replied:

They hate because they hate. They hate because they are evil. It is not an issue of 'these are Muslims and they're radicals and that's what they're like'. They're like this because they're evil ... They don't know God at all.

Every now and again it seems people get an excuse and an opportunity to cast off the restraints of 'civilized behaviour' and some of them do things which can only be described as incredibly evil. We saw it in Ruanda, we saw it in Bosnia, now we see it in Iraq: people who had lived together comfortably enough as neighbours suddenly descend into anarchy and chaos. It is tied to dehumanising others - the Ruandan Hutus famously described the Tutsis as 'cockroaches' before going on the rampage - rather than religion (Orthodox Christians in Bosnia, Sunni Muslims in Iraq, and no real religious element in Ruanda) or race/geographic region (Africa, Europe and Middle East in these three examples).

That is 'chaotic' evil - where people seemingly just lose the plot and wildly act out the darkness within them. There is also a cold systematic evil, such as the Israelis deliberately killing civilians in neighbouring countries every few years. They dehumanise with terms like 'terrorist', yet their aim is to cause terror and to destroy - in the latest attacks on Gaza, hospitals and those who managed hospitals were targetted, to teach them a lesson.

I've also been reading (again) Steig Larsson's wonderful book, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. The four parts to the book are each introduced by a statistic about violence to women in Sweden:

"18% of the women in Sweden have at one time been threatened by a man."

"48% of the women in Sweden have been subjected to violence by a man." 

"13% of the women in Sweden have been subjected to aggravated sexual assault outside of a sexual relationship." 

"92% of women in Sweden who have been subjected to sexual assault have not reported the most recent violent incident to the police."

Currently in Britain various child sexual abuse scandals roll on. Last night Channel 4 news quoted a child support worker as saying:

"Rotherham is not the exception, it is more likely to be the norm."

Yet this is only the tip of the iceberg. According to NSPCC research the vast majority of child abuse happens in the home: their figures suggest that one in twelve children (around 8%) is sexually abused during their childhood, the vast majority by either family members or family friends.

It's about power and accountability. Where people have power but do not have to answer for it then some abuse it. Where they can shield their activity in darkness, anonymity and secrecy then some give way to the evil within. And some don't.

Maybe that is a working definition of that horribly degraded term 'sin': when we have a choice between what is evil and what is good, which do we choose?

Most religions, I think, follow most people in condemning those who choose such evil, who sin in this way. A distinctive about Christianity is that it also offers a way back.

When you have made the wrong choices, when you have sold your soul to evil, Jesus offers hope - light in the terrible darkness. Churches still struggle with what on earth that means in practice, and lots of churchgoers are really not keen on this idea at all, but following Jesus means little without it.

For someone who has sold their soul, Jesus has paid the price to redeem it. The Bible calls this 'Grace'. We all need grace ... maybe some more than others.

"Christ The King" - So What?

Very pretty, but so what?

"My name is BlackPhi, and I am a pedant".

Sorry, but I am: I care (too much, probably) about word meanings and accuracy. 'Christ the King' is like 'Cobbler the Shoemaker' or 'Butcher the Purveyor of Meat', or even 'Pope the Catholic'.

'Christ' is a literal Koine Greek translation of the Hebrew 'Messiah' - both mean 'anointed one', ie 'king'. Yes, there is more to being the Christ/Messiah than just being an ordinary king, but not less. That is where the concept starts.

The trigger for this little rant is that in three Sundays time (some) Anglican churches celebrate the feast of 'Christ the King' and I'm supposed to be giving a talk on the subject. It doesn't help that when I look on Google/Bing images for 'Christ the King', I find pages of bland images showing a North European 'Jesus' looking highly pious ... and generally pretty pointless.

It also doesn't help that I'm of a generation that isn't terribly impressed by titles and the toadying and self-importance that goes with them. Kings, queens, presidents, CEOs, unrestrained Prime Ministers ... so what? Corruption, abuse and injustice seem to me to be the inevitable companions of such power structures. The histories of major church organisations back that up all too well. Here's an alternative picture (from an album cover):

The point of remembering that Jesus is 'King of Kings' and 'Lord of Lords' is that it tells us that he has the power to make a difference. He was the one through whom the whole world was made, so when it comes to making a difference to the mess it's in - to remaking it, in part now, more extensively in due course - he knows what he is about.

When Jesus was on the cross between two other convicts, one of them wanted Jesus to use his power as Messiah/King to free them all from their suffering. The other convict accepts the situation and just asks Jesus to remember him. As it turns out, the suffering of both is cut short (crucifixion commonly took days), and the second convict is promised that Jesus will go with him: taking him through the crucifixion to paradise.

It's an odd story when you think about it, but my take is that sometimes (not always: healings do happen) Jesus, rather than keeping us from pain and suffering, walks through it with us, shortening it to what we can bear, and making it transformative: taking what is inherently evil and purposeless and transforming it to an agent of good change and redemption.

Because Jesus is the King: he can do that.

Footprints