Putting a religious faith through a particular political
ideology can be regarded as artificial because the transcendent is not limited
to the confines of particular ideologies.
Were it otherwise, the transcendent would not go beyond the limits of human
cognition, perception, and sensibility. Leaders of religious organizations
should thus be particularly careful lest they inadvertently cut transcendence
short. Practically speaking, that some members could feel marginalized or leave
the organization altogether is a capricious cost that can be avoided. In other
words, according to religious criteria, no
reason would exist for such marginalization or departures. Unfortunately,
religious leaders can easily dismiss this drawback out of a desire to channel
the religious through their particular ideologies. I suppose this is a form of
idolatry.
In the Roman Catholic Church, for instance, a liberal
political ideology became associated with Cardinal Blasé Cupich of Chicago
after the “started a program against gun violence and opposed Republican health
care proposals on the ground that they would strip coverage for the weak and
poor.”[1]
Alternatively, the Cardinal could have preached against the violence that had
plagued parts of the city and for helping the weak and poor. He could have gone
to some of the problematic neighborhoods as well as to places where the poor
received medical services—even bringing along other clergy to volunteer.
Starting a program specifically oriented to guns, and voicing opposition to a
political party’s proposal is to step out of the shoes of the fisherman and into
the shoes of a legislator. Faithful Catholics in Chicago could legitimately
have had a different stance on guns as well as on health policy at the federal
level. The Cardinal’s political shoes could easily have made such Catholics
uncomfortable going to church and even, particularly sadly, with their Catholic
faith. A desire of a religious leader to advance particular political platforms
becomes self-centered if it causes members of the religious organization to feel even just uncomfortable.
Visiting a large Catholic church in my hometown outside “Chicagoland”
in northern Illinois in 2013, I was amazed at how blatantly Republican the
members were; they made no effort to hide their political identification, and it didn’t hurt that the bishop at the
time made no secret of his political conservatism. The parish was socially conservative on political issues “down the line.” Even
members who were political moderates must have felt uncomfortable there.
Indeed, the parish lost considerable members. To be sure, the pastor, who would
go on to become bishop of North Dakota, was extremely conservative (and
reportedly not very kind). Sadly, “belligerence can acquire a theological
justification,” according to Antonio Spadaro and Marcelo Figueroa writing in La Civilta Cattolica.[2]
The authors look at American evangelical Christians and
Roman Catholics as having been “brought together by the same desire for religious
influence in the political sphere.”[3]
Looked at in the other direction, the desire includes bringing the political
sphere into church. The authors warn that the “religious element should never
be confused with the political one. Confusing spiritual power with temporal
power means subjecting one to the other.”[4]
As people of religious faith are subjected to temporal, ideological constraints—even
scripts—the faith is artificially circumscribed, as is the body of Christ
gathered in fellowship. In fact, the fellowship itself becomes artificially
delimited.
In short, the “article warns that conservative American
Catholics have strayed dangerously into the deepening political polarization in
the United States.”[5] Meanshile,
American Unitarian Universalist societies have also contributed to the
polarization by becoming virtual liberal camps geared to political activism. I
could imagine Unitarian protesters facing off against pro-life Catholic
protests with only a street between them as they shout at each other in the name of religion but actually in the
sphere of politics—a domain that had become polarized societally by the
time Donald Trump was elected U.S. President. The willowing down to ideology
brings with it a perspectival narrowness in which even shouting under
ostensibly religious auspices does
not register as oxymoronic—not to mention as eviscerating any religiousity. Clearly, it makes no difference whether the
ideology is liberal or conservative; the effect is the same. I would even say a
presumption to moral and political infallibility also comes with the partiality that is inherent in willowing
truth down to a particular ideology. No self-corrective, let alone humbling,
feedback loop can operate, so the partisans armed with what they presume is
religious truth are unwittingly vulnerable
to going too far without realizing it. Even Christian partisans could end up
killing rather than loving their enemies without any recognition that they have
violated Jesus’s commandment and teachings. That even something as obvious as
this could easily be missed ought to be sufficient reason to ward off the
temptation to get political and judge fellow religionists accordingly. Yet with
an impaired self-corrective feedback loop, resisting the temptation “after the
fact” may require nothing short of a miracle.
This book may be helpful for tips on how to sidestep the political: Spiritual Leadership in Business. See also Christianized Ethical Leadership.
