FROM THE BOUNDARY - In the name of Christ? – Part 2
Last week’s column consisted of a series of examples drawn from the interface of religion and politics, and I suggested that this week I would begin exploring what lessons, if any, might be drawn from them.
The last example I gave I’ll now call ‘The Great Nothing’, the abortive election of the Anglican Bishop. I dare say that thanks in no small measure to one section of the press and a ‘leaker’ – a nefarious, clandestine somebody who kept the media informed throughout the proceedings though they were held behind closed doors with the seal of confidentiality – it really has now become a national issue in which even non-Anglicans are casting votes in their heads. Strangely, though those at the President’s table, in the hall of the Ivan Harewood Centre, learned contemporaneously, like me, of the leaking, there was no public admonition of it. Mind, there were a number of ‘open doors’ between counts and, for all I know, there may have been much frenzied machinating from the rest rooms or clandestine nods and winks behind SUVs in the car park. Yet who cares?
Weren’t we all, clergy and laity, honourable men and women honouring Jesus and his Church, and all friends together honourably doing his work? Gulp +. Mind, the only winner, for me at least, was the demon Lady Sciatica who, after 12 hours of it, with her hounds nominated herself as the ‘PAIN WON’ candidate. As for the Holy Spirit, I saw little evidence of her and concluded that IF she was there she had succumbed to Lady Sciatica too. A very senior priest colleague told me there had never been anything quite like it all. But never mind. If one of the candidates is elected, two-thirds of us will be dead before the next appointment and Sciatica and her hounds will have to find new victims.
A nice example from Trumpland surfaced this week. Fr Patrick Conroy, the Roman Catholic Chaplain to the House of Representatives, was told to resign by the office of Speaker Ryan – and did. Why? It’s been suggested that the conservative evangelicals prompted it and that Ryan had told Conroy: “Padre, you just got to stay out of politics.” Apparently, last November Conroy, in a prayer given at the time Congress was debating tax overhaul, enjoined lawmakers to “guarantee that there are not winners and losers under the new tax laws, but benefits balanced and shared by all Americans.” Politics? Straightforward Gospel stuff, surely.
Or was it? What of the rich young man, in Jesus’ example, divesting himself of everything to inherit eternal life? He wasn’t told to be charitable, or more charitable, or to be fair to everyone. He was to love his needy neighbours so much like himself that, to be like them and with them, he must impoverish himself too. Aren’t these impossible demands for most of us, and whether we’re priest or politician? And what of ‘giving no thought for tomorrow’? No politician, with his eye to the balance of trade or a myriad other things, can live that one. We all move in the market place not the cloister. What to do? Well, we trim and try to be Gospel friendly. ‘Loving your neighbour as yourself’ becomes ‘not harming your neighbour’. ‘Divesting’ means ‘giving what you can afford’. How else can we live our lives?
It’s a way of saying we mustn’t let religion, or what passes for religion, rule us – and especially if it runs counter to what a constitution or good governance demands. So yes, we might conscionably debate the abolition of anti-sodomy laws or gay marriage and, however ridiculous, even claim we speak for Jesus. But we can’t legalise cannabis use just to please Rastafarians or allow head coverings in identification situations to please Moslems.
What if a pastor/priest determines to stand for Parliament? He may be caught by competing solemn undertakings. At the ‘presentation’ of a person for the ministry of priest in the Anglican Church, the aspirant promises to “conform to the doctrine, discipline and worship of the Church” and obey his Bishop. Self-evidently, then, when it comes to the election of a Bishop the priest must think very carefully about who will best fulfil the myriad promises a Bishop-elect makes at his consecration and ordination, and whether ‘obedience’ to him or her would be heartfelt. It’s not a decision that a priest can take on the basis of mere popularity, or age, or a patronage-rooted CV. That would be to leave Jesus with mud on his face.
If our pastor/priest enters Parliament, by contrast he undertakes in God’s name and as required “freely” to give his advice to the Governor General “for the good management…. of Barbados”, that he will observe the rules of confidentiality, and “in all things” be “true and faithful” – to whom, or what, is unclear though we may assume to country, to the Constitution, to Cabinet if a Minister, to constituents, to Party, and to God.
Well, there are two worlds then, and they mirror those in ourselves. But all of us, surely, even Bishops, by reason of our overriding oaths as human beings, undertake from the very root of ourselves ever to act fairly, justly and truthfully. Would our children expect anything less of us?
Go safely, then – until the next time.
Martyr from the boundary: “All of you before me are Christ, even the humblest peasant – you are Christ!” (Archbishop Oscar Romero)