ALTERNATIVE VERSIONS AND PERVERSIONS OF THEOCRACY

By Stephen Palmquist (stevepq@hkbu.edu.hk)

Theocracy vs. Escapism

A potentially misleading difficulty with the assertion that theocracy is the political philosophy advocated in the Bible is that this term has been interpreted in a variety of ways, as have the biblical texts used in Chapter Three to support it. In this chapter I will examine some of the various ways in which theocracy has been conceived in the past, paying special attention to its misrepresentations. I will begin here by distinguishing true theocracy, which, as we shall see more fully in Part Two, requires active participation in the affairs of the world, from three false versions, each of which twists the biblical picture to provide for a way of escaping from the world.

Perhaps the strongest opposition to the interpretation I have offered in Chapter Three would come from those who assume all biblical references to the new "city" or the "kingdom of God" are intended to provide nothing more than a picture of what heaven will be like. Proponents of this view claim that the biblical references to the end time, when God's kingdom is fully established and he rules unopposed in the new city, refer not to an historical, earthly rule, but only to an eternal rule in heaven. Yet such a view makes the mistake of treating "eschatological" and "historical" as mutually exclusive opposites. If Jesus came to redeem the earth, then this requires changing it now, not just looking forward to our good deeds or correct beliefs being rewarded in heaven. The kind of "pie in the sky when you die" offered by the all-too-common "redemption-in-a-box" gospel is far removed from the biblical view of eschatology as radically historical.

Another misconception comes from those who seek to escape in the opposite way, believing that the historical realization of theocracy can come about only by separating oneself from the present world, perhaps even renouncing national citizenship, in order to build the New Jerusalem on earth. There are many examples throughout history of religious sects adopting this version of theocracy, and as a result separating themselves as completely as possible from all worldly political systems. From the point of view of the "biblical theocracy" defended in Chapter Three [see pp.42-43n], such movements are both right and wrong. They are right to the extent that they recognize and take seriously the Bible's repeated insistence that theocracy is not just an "impossible dream", but is a viable alternative to the merely man-made political systems. However, they are wrong to think the way to establish theocracy is by first escaping from all worldly political systems, but then imitating their ways by forming, as it were, a separate political unit.

The separatist interpretation of theocracy misses the point of Jesus' repeated assertion in John's Gospel that his followers are to be "in the world" but not "of the world" [e.g., Jn. 13:1; 15:18-19; 17:5-6,13-16]. Part of what this means is that anyone who wants theocracy should not try to establish it as a worldly kingdom, separate from other worldly kingdoms. Rather, we should work from within the existing systems, but without imitating, or basing our ways upon, the world's ways. For as Jesus tells Pilate in John 18:36, just before the crowd casts its vote to have him put to death, "My kingdom [though it is in this world] is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, then my servants would be fighting, that I might not be delivered up to the Jews; but as it is, my kingdom is not of this realm." This suggests that the theocratic kingdom can begin to develop, and even coexist to a large extent, within the context of virtually any of the world's ordinary political systems. Indeed, it must be this way, because the only way theocracy can ever come about is for one person at a time to realize what it means to live under God's absolute authority, and in so doing to resist the temptation to trust in the world's political structures.

This means biblical theocracy must not be confused with typical forms of utopianism, which aim to escape from the present reality in order to bring about an ideal (usually anarchistic) society, by means of either revolution (as in Marxism) or pacifism. The former assumes humanity is basically good, so that the ideal society can be ushered in merely by ousting the evil forces which have intruded (e.g., due to capitalist oppression, according to the Marxist vision).[1]The latter assumes humanity is basically evil, so that the ideal society can be ushered in only by withdrawing from the world. By contrast, theocracy requires, as we shall see in Part Two, a new kind of activism [see Chapter Five], which takes fully into account both the seriousness of evil and the potential for good in human beings [see Chapter Six], and which is based not on defending human rights, but on practicing the Law of love [see Chapter Seven]. Such a "revolutionary pacifism", as we might call it, is not anarchistic inasmuch as it recognizes God as its ruling power and guiding authority.

Theocracy vs. Ecclesiocracy

In Part Two we shall explore in detail what it means to say the theocratic activism of love requires us to die to politics. But before that, it will be helpful to consider some examples of how, if we try instead to establish theocratic love by imitating the ways of worldly political systems, our efforts will almost certainly backfire in the most tragic way of all. As we shall see, theocracy requires us to take the ultimate risk, so if it becomes perverted, we are actually in danger of losing not just our freedom but our very souls. This danger is perhaps most acute when it takes place under the banner of the church, the very place where theocracy ought to be able to flourish.

For lack of a currently existing word, I shall coin the term "ecclesiocracy" (i.e., "power held by the church") to denote the church's perversion of theocracy.[2]Ecclesiocracy includes any attempt by human beings to form a religious organization by forcing the members to comply with a rigid set of manmade rules and regulations. Whereas true theocracy requires individuals to submit to the absolute rule of God, which relates uniquely to each new situation, ecclesiocracy fools people into believing they can use God to force other people under their control (e.g., by imposing fixed laws). Yet, as Eller warns in E1:13: "The only thing more devilish than a 'bad' [political power] is a 'holy' one." Theocrats who try to "run the show" [M4:106] produce the most evil of all political systems, because the power they abuse is not just human, but the very power of God. Ecclesiocracy perverts true theocracy by snuffing out the people's recognition that the true Law of God is written nowhere but in their hearts [Jer. 31:33; Heb. 10:16].

Theocracy and its perversion, ecclesiocracy, can be directly correlated to Aristotle's framework of six political systems. These two new options obviously represent two new extremes: theocracy as the most extreme (thus the best) form of kingship and ecclesiocracy as the most extreme (thus the worst) form of tyranny. These two systems can co-exist with any of the other systems, so they are labelled in Table Two as "X" and "-X", and set apart from the others by a dashed bold line [cf. p.21n above]. The table thus reveals theocracy to be the "absolute" risk, inasmuch as any attempt to implement theocracy offers absolute freedom, yet stands in danger of being perverted into the worst of all forms of slavery to human tyrants. As mentioned above [see p.45], the "family relationship" most appropriate to

Table Two: Theocracy vs. Aristotle's Six Political Systems

theocracy is the relation between a person and himself or herself.

The Bible, as we have seen, teaches that the proper way for us to respond to the gift of power and authority from God is to recognize our weakness and be willing to die. This helps us remember that God remains the ultimate owner of any power and authority we may receive. Yet in ecclesiocracy, human beings grasp hold of that holy power and seize it as their own.[3]Then-and this is its most destructive aspect-it imposes supposedly "spiritual" rules, which are actually artificial human limitations, onto the people, thus preventing them from enjoying the absolute freedom which results from an immediate experience of the presence of God. A few historical examples should help to make clear how this perversion of theocracy tends to operate.

The first example is the Jewish interpretation of what Christians call the "Old Covenant", according to which a whole nation believed God had given them an external code of conduct and had agreed to save anyone who obeys it. The inevitable failure of the people of Israel to obey God's Law led them to supplement the Torah with a complex set of additional guidelines and rituals [see Appendix A], which often led the people to believe they could manipulate God into ignoring their sins. Following this mistaken way of viewing God's gifts fools us into believing we can earn the right to be accepted by God, have the power to control God's judgments, and have the authority to judge the eternal destiny of other people. No doubt this is why, even in the Old Testament itself, such a worldly, quasi-political approach to religion is condemned [see e.g., Hos. 6:6].

The "New Covenant" was supposed to change all of this by insisting that the law of freedom can only be obeyed when it is engraved as a Law of love in our hearts [cf. Rom. 8:2 and 13:8]. Sadly enough, it is through the Christian church, perhaps more than any other human institution in the past 2000 years, that the Evil One has most effectively snuffed out the fire of God's presence and power in the lives of human individuals. One of the main reasons for this has been that the church, instead of recognizing its call to be the tool for realizing biblical theocracy, has generally fallen prey to the illusion that it must imitate some form of worldly political system.

Today the Christian church is often divided into three (not always mutually exclusive) types: the Catholic, the Protestant, and the Charismatic. These three manifestations of Christianity correspond roughly to the three forms of political constitution in Aristotle's philosophy [see Chapter One]. Catholicism is analogous to kingship/tyranny inasmuch as Catholics place one man (the pope) in a position of absolute power, with a hierarchy of subordinate officials under his headship. Though the Protestant emphasis on the "priesthood of all believers" makes this type of church seem more democratic, its emphasis on the Bible makes it more closely analogous to aristocracy/oligarchy, inasmuch as Protestants tend to treat theologians and biblical scholars (especially those who can read Greek and Hebrew) as a special class of experts, who have the power and authority to determine how the common reader should interpret the text. And the Charismatic version of the church is analogous to polity/democracy, inasmuch as Charismatics emphasize each individual's personal religious experience, but can often degenerate into personality cults based on the charisma of the leader (just as in a democratic election campaign!).

I mention this parallel not in order to raise or lower the status of any one form of Christianity in relation to the others, but rather to draw attention to the fact that the differences are due more to their different ways of borrowing from worldly political systems than from one or the other being closer to "true Christianity". Of course, it is not necessarily wrong for a church to adopt one of these forms of government, since every church must set up some form of human organization. The point here is that a church must be careful not to confuse the human political system it prefers with the biblical theocracy which ought to serve as its motivating force. For, as we shall see, just as theocracy can begin to operate within the context of any worldly political system, so also any form of Christianity, no matter how successful it may be in implementing theocracy, stands in danger of being perverted into some form of ecclesiocracy.[4]

No doubt some of the most obvious examples of perversion come from the history of the Roman Catholic Church [see e.g., B1:119-120], simply because it has had the longest time to make mistakes. The history of the first millennium of the "Christian era" is dominated by the fact that for centuries the Catholic Church held captive the minds and hearts of most Europeans. This was a millennium full of evil, as exemplified not only by the many corrupt popes, but also by the well-meaning crusaders, who wished to Christianize the world by brute (political) force. It is no accident that a large portion of this period is sometimes called the "Dark Ages"; for when a human religious organization wields absolute power and authority over its people in the name of God, the result is all too often darkness for the victims subjected to its "care".[5]

The ever-present danger of the Catholic Church (or any other religious organization, for that matter) is that it will act as an over-protective mother to its members, with the result that its "children" are never actually allowed much direct contact with Father God. This is, at least in part, the message of those passages in the New Testament which state that new Christians (the children of God) ought to be given "spiritual milk" as from a mother (the church), but should move on as soon as they are ready to eat the "solid food" their father (God) has to offer [e.g., 1 Cor. 3:2; Heb. 5:12-14; 1 Pet. 2:2]. The biblical stories about people who were able to hear the voice of God because their mothers were willing to give up the temptation to be over-protective [see e.g., Ex. 2:1-10; Ru. 1; 1 Sam. 1] can be regarded as metaphors for how the church must be willing to release its members to God in order to avoid perverting theocracy into ecclesiocracy.

A rather different, typically Protestant form of ecclesiocracy, which takes the Bible as God's external blueprint for human moral and political law, can be called "bibliocracy" (i.e., "power held by the Holy Book").[6]Bibliocracy ends up being an especially dangerous form of ecclesiocracy if the people are led to believe they are making their own independent decisions about what the Bible means, when in fact their decisions are largely -if not entirely-determined by the views held by their church leaders (or by the theologians from which those leaders take their cues). In Catholic ecclesiocracy the ordinary people at least know their views are being determined by someone else. Of course, bibliocracy can be a less severe form of ecclesiocracy, if the church leaders are willing to die to their own power and authority-for example, by freeing their members to use their own study of the Bible as a means of listening to the God who lives in the heart of each of them. Indeed, bibliocracy can in such a case lead directly to its own demise, and thus pave the way for true (biblical!) theocracy.

A contemporary (mostly Protestant) form of ecclesiocracy, often taking the form of bibliocracy, can now be witnessed in the U.S.A., where movements of the religious right (e.g., the "Moral Majority") have a strong influence on the political attitudes of many Christians. Such Christians believe it is their duty to use the political system to force people to act in ways they believe are consistent with biblical principles, so that theocracy can be realized in the form of a so-called "Christian America".[7]I see two problems with this kind of Christian political activism. First, it assumes an evil method can be used effectively to defeat evil-a way of thinking I have already criticized in Chapter Two. By trying to make spiritual principles into political laws, they end up depriving the citizens of the freedom which is necessary in order to respond righteously (i.e., from the heart).[8]For the Bible was not intended as a blueprint for political rule-making!

The second problem with the "Moral Majority" approach is that, in spite of the lip service it gives to God, such political activism usually conceals a lack of faith in God's ability to work out his purposes by using the existing system [see Chapter Five]. I believe the world would now be a better place to live if Christians (including liberal opponents of the religious right) did not try so hard to force supposedly "Christian" ideas into the law books, but channelled their full energies into loving their neighbor, which, as we shall see in Part Two, the Bible clearly requires as our first priority.

Ecclesiocracy can take many other forms as well. Indeed, any aspect of our religion, if taken as our rightful possession and then used to control other people, can give rise to ecclesiocracy, even if (as is usually the case) it is in itself a good gift from God. Thus, whereas Catholics tend to idolize tradition and the church hierarchy, and Protestants tend to idolize the Bible and biblical scholars, Charismatics tend to idolize "spiritual gifts" and specially gifted leaders. The typical example of the latter is that Charismatics often tend to treat speaking in tongues as the sine qua non of true spirituality. This ceases to be merely "bad religion" and also becomes "bad politics" (i.e., a version of ecclesiocracy which could be called "charismatocracy") if we forget that spiritual gifts are gifts given for the purpose of imbuing specific situations with God's grace, and treat them instead as lifelong possessions which confer on us the power and authority to manipulate other people in the name of God. By contrast, when viewed properly, an emphasis on spiritual gifts can be one of the most effective means of promoting a theocratic outlook in the setting of a Christian church.

The ever-present danger of perverting theocracy so that it becomes ecclesiocracy should serve as a warning that the church itself would be far more effective in ushering in the true government of God if it recognized that its mission is not to use worldly methods to increase its own power and authority, but rather to practice continually the discipline of dying. The only truly Christian church is one that is willing to die to itself, so that theocracy can rise up in its place. This, surely, is one of the main reasons the church is called "the body of Christ" [see e.g., 1 Cor. 12:27]: just as Christ's body died in order that the gift of new life could be given, so also those who are entrusted with the "keys of the kingdom" are to think of themselves as participants in a "body" which dies to itself in the same Christ-like fashion.[9]

Theocracy vs. Political Theology[10]

Among the numerous twentieth-century theologians who have written on the subject of politics and religion, Paul Tillich is recognized by many as offering one of the most penetrating analyses of how religion and politics can and ought to mix in modern culture.[11]In his early writings on politics, Tillich develops a political theology called "religious socialism", whose goal is to bring theocracy (or "theonomy" as he sometimes calls it) into being through a synthesis of religious "forms of grace" and rational criticism -i.e., of holiness and duty.[12]

By "grace" Tillich means "the transcendent reality as something present" [T3:23], giving "transcendent meaning" to an object or situation [25]. When grace takes on a form it comes not as a "possession", but as an "anticipation ...of a perfect consummation that is coming" [26]. Not only can such forms of grace "operate independently of religious culture" [28], even in "a profane, ... anti-Christian phenomenon like socialism" [44], but the religious culture itself is sometimes "abused", especially by those who wish to escape criticism, in which case "the form of grace has been demonized" [29]. Tillich refers to this perversion of the sacred as "sacramental demonry"-a term we can regard as the cultural equivalent of the term "ecclesiocracy"-and opposes it to the "natural demonry" of the profane [69-73,86]. The goal of criticism is to free culture from the "demonry" that works through the overbearing authority of "sacramental" forms; yet once free, the transcendent meaning of the form of grace must be reintroduced to autonomous culture in a new way. Filling "autonomous forms with sacramental substance" and thus creating "a sacred and just reality" is the essence of theonomy [62]. Finding new ways to realize theonomy, such as by "the formation of a community as the unity of power and love", is the task of religious socialism.[13]

Tillich defines "theocratic" as "the rising of the divine against the demonic and the consequent dissolution of sacramental immediacy", and "theocratic movements" as "antidemonic inwardly religious reform movements", mentioning as examples "Jewish prophetism, Mohammedanism, monastic reform, Calvinism, and the socio-ethical sects."[14]Inasmuch as these movements are antidemonic, they are good movements, whose goal is to promote "the sovereignty of the unconditioned form, of the right and the just" [T3:67]. But no predetermined formula can guarantee that they will remain good. Each new movement must respond to its particular historical situation in order to determine how best to combat the demonization of the form of grace. Tillich believed religious socialism was the best avenue for the promotion of theocracy in the post-World War I climate.

In his effort to distinguish religious socialism from ordinary political and religious systems, Tillich states that "religious socialism is not bound to a confession" [T3:54], and "commitment to a political party is out of the question" [81; see also 88]. As such, his use of the term "socialism" is really rather misleading, remote as it is from the realities of any actual socialist government.[15] He explains that religious socialism supports Marx's critique of capitalism as an accurate analysis of the current cultural demonization of the form of grace [48-50]. But to this Tillich adds a critique of socialism, on the grounds that "religious socialism discerns a necessary expectation of the kingdom of God. But it repudiates the identification of socialism with the kingdom of God just as it rejects religious indifference towards constructive tasks within the world" [50].

Tillich regards the "brokenness" of the cross as an appropriate symbol for the "true state". Having accepted "responsibility for the spirit" and "responsibility for the holy", any state, whether socialist or otherwise, can "recognize the situation of brokenness" if it does "not execute either function", but chooses to "transfer" these responsibilities elsewhere (e.g., to the church) [T3:104-105]. The same "brokenness", he argues, should characterize the state's relationship with the economy [108,111]. Thus he concludes [114]: "The consciousness of the brokenness of every human state of being that informs Protestantism leads it to a broken and, just for that reason, true conception of the state."

Many of the ideas Tillich expresses in his political theology are compatible with, if not identical to, those of biblical theocracy. Nevertheless, his conception of the theocracy of religious socialism differs in several important respects from the views I am defending in this book. The first difference is that Tillich believes theocracy goes hand in hand with democracy:

... the theocratic reaction [to "demonic oppression" through authoritative law] necessarily has democratic and universalistic tendencies. A perfect theocracy would realize democracy within a state and a unified system of international justice.... The fulfillment of the democratic ideal would mean the dissolution of the political into a universal self-sufficient organism of justice ... [T3:80].

Interestingly, the last sentence implies that democracy aims at its own dissolution-an attractive idea, but one which can hardly stand up to the historical realities of democratic governments. Unfortunately, Tillich does not explain what he means by "democracy" or how it can be related realistically to his "democratic ideal", which for the religious socialist requires that the democratic state be "filled with the sacred import of a creative theonomy" [82; cf. T2:264]-in which case democracy would, of course, be far more compatible with theocracy than it actually is.[16]

Another important difference is Tillich's insistence that we must be prepared to use military force to combat the political powers that stand in opposition to the way of religious socialism [see e.g., T3:80,83]. He says the religious socialist is to be "a champion of social justice" [70], a claim which, as we shall soon see [pp.84-87], is completely consistent with biblical theocracy. However, the idea that force is required in order to defend human rights, such as the "right of possessions" [79-80], is, as we saw in Chapter Two, open to considerable doubt. Yet Tillich leaves no doubt as to his position on rights: "The concept of human rights is for [religious socialism] ... the symbol of the victorious conquest over social injustices" [73; see also 76-77]; he supports the Marxist conception of a class struggle for "the radical pursuit of human rights", though he does warn that the class struggle as such is "a pursuit that has no intrinsic import", being only a necessary response to the historical reality of capitalist oppression [57,78].

Since Tillich believes religious socialism transcends the boundaries between different religions [T3:56], he makes no effort to relate his system to the political outlook of the Bible. Instead, he sees his conception of theocracy as distancing him from the Bible's self-denying theocratic outlook. For he explicitly states that "religious socialism rejects the antirevolutionary dogma of Lutheranism, just as it rejects its biblical foundation as also entirely false" [53; see also 64]. That Tillich would not want to treat the idea of "dying to self" as a political strategy, as in biblical theocracy, is suggested by his opposition to any form of "pacifism that radically negates justice", such as Tolstoi's [82-83]. However, such absolute pacifism is not necessarily implied by biblical theocracy, whose purpose is to promote justice. For, as we shall see in Chapter Seven [pp.121-129], the Bible does allow for the use of some types of force. Nevertheless, these seem far removed from the type of military force Tillich, with his qualified sympathy for Marxist tactics, advocates.

Finally, in his political writings Tillich's theocracy remains almost entirely on the level of theoretical abstractions, even when discussing supposedly "practical" issues [e.g., T3:73-86], whereas the Bible presents theocracy not as a theology, but always as a practical way of life, imbuing all one's public and private activities, especially the political ones, with a new vision. The Bible goes into considerable detail to work out on the practical level how this theocratic vision is to be realized in the lives of human individuals. Up until now, however, our examination of the nature and possibility of "Christian politics" has, not unlike Tillich's, remained mostly on a theoretical level. In Part Two this situation will be rectified as we examine how theocracy is intended not just as an ideal picture of the "end time", but also as a way of realizing God's kingdom in the present.

[1] The reason communism will never work is not that it is too idealistic, but that it believes the ideal state can be ushered in through a mass movement controlled not by God but by the selfish desire of the proletariat to avoid suffering and injustice. Without the unity which arises when each individual looks to One God for common guidance, there is no hope for the people to remain united once the revolution is over. (Communism is therefore like trying to run a computer without a program: it never really gets started, though the machine might make some noise.) Moreover, the revolution ends up putting into power something very much like an aristocracy, which inevitably degenerates into an oligarchy. As Holden puts it, in a Marxist version of democracy, "'the people' become a class" [H2:43].

[2] Neuhaus coins the rather narrower term "clerocracies" to denote political systems governed by "the rule of the clergy". Unfortunately, he thinks such systems "fit into the general category of theocracy"[N1:166;see alsoC1:36;but cf.p.43n above]; yet it would be more proper to regard clerocracy as but one of several possible forms of ecclesiocracy.

[3] For this reason, even if human law is regarded as rooted in divine Law, as Plato believed, any attempt to grasp that Law in order to bring it down to the human level inevitably backfires and leads not to theocracy but to the cultural equivalent of ecclesiocracy. This will become more evident below, in our discussion of political theology. In Chapter Five we will discuss the biblical alternative to this Platonic use of divine Law.

[4] Without mentioning "theocracy" in his helpful discussion of "the presence of the kingdom", Ellul clearly warns against the danger of the subtle compromise whereby we pervert Christian politics by borrowing from worldly political forms [see E3:150-153]. And in E1:49-58 Eller presents an amusing account of the stark contrast between God's way of seeing individuals interacting within a true ekklesia and the typically human ("ecclesiocratic") way of focusing on abstractions and power structures.

Kant's theory of religion, though often misunderstood and prematurely rejected, is remarkably consistent with the point of view I am defending here in terms of biblical theocracy. Although Kant briefly criticizes "theocratic" constitutions as based on a false conception of God as an external, "statutory" lawgiver [K3:99-100(91)], he is here obviously rejecting ecclesiocracy, not true theocracy. For he goes on to define the true church as having just the public, trans-political character I am describing here. In K3:102(93), he states that the true church "as a mere representative of a city of God, really has, as regards its basic principles, nothing resembling a [traditional] political constitution. For its constitution is neither monarchical (under a pope or patriarch), nor aristocratic (under bishops or prelates), nor democratic (as of sectarian illuminati). It could best of all be likened to that of a household (family) under a common, though invisible, moral Father...". Moreover, Kant's radical critique of the dangers of what he calls "pseudo-service" overlaps to a large extent with the critique of ecclesiocracy offered here. For a detailed interpretation of Kant's philosophy of religion, see P4 and Chapter 10 of P5.

[5] Lest Protestants feel too smug, let us also recall that the religious warfare sparked by the Reformation (especially the so-called "hundred years war", from the mid-1500s to the mid-1600s), in which a third of Europe was senselessly slaughtered, marks perhaps the darkest of all ages in the history of the Christian church. Moreover, Ellul (a Protestant) sees an inevitable link between religion and war [E4:24-26], due mainly to the church's tragic tendency to resort to worldly politics [27-32]: he argues that ecclesiocracy breeds violence. And he sadly observes "that no matter what the form of government, at the higher level and in its directives the church is always on the side of the state" [30].

H3 overviews the history of church-state relations in the West, and traces the theological rationale used to defend various traditional Christian positions from Augustine to American democracy. It is noteworthy how often the views Hyma discusses were taken by their original proponents not from the biblical vision of politics, but from the ancient Greek (especially Aristotelian) philosophical vision.

[6] Interestingly, both the medieval Catholics and the American Puritans sometimes referred to their very different political systems as a "theocracy" (as do many commentators on their systems [see e.g., M4:105-115; S5:105]). The new terms I am suggesting here can help distinguish between the different ways these systems tended to pervert true theocracy. For an example of bibliocracy, see the discussion of the "theonomists" in S4: 26. Skillen unfortunately fails even to mention theocracy as a viable political system.

Paul Tillich describes an historical form of bibliocracy in T3:5: "In the name of Christianity the English revolution created a capitalist society as the realization of the rule of God.... The Bible became the law book of the people." Similarly, the goal of the Puritans in Seventeenth Century New England"was the construction of a theocratic state, which should be to Christians...all that the theocracy of Moses and Joshua and Samuel had been to the Jews" [F1:160]. As Fiske explains, "the effect was to form a political party which soon broke down under competition" [225]-a strategy not possible in a true theocracy. What such movements neglect is that none of these biblical characters used a written code to make legislative decisions, but each depended on direct inspiration.

[7] See e.g., D3:4-18. The religious totalitarianism in some Muslim countries, such as Iran, demonstrates that ecclesiocracy is not a problem unique to Christianity [see also Appendix A]. Indeed, the similarities between it and the religious right in America ought to cause Christians to doubt seriously the validity of this method of politico-religious reform. Instead,they lead all too often to an even stronger support for a"Christian"version.

[8] Neuhaus makes a similar point in his critique of the new religious right in N1 [see e.g., 36-37]. Referring to this movement, he expresses his "anxiety about forces that...seem bent upon establishing something like a theocracy" [9]. The reason Christians should be anxious about such movements, however, is not that they wish to establish a theocracy, but rather that their conception of what a theocracy is is a gross perversion of the picture presented in the Bible [see above, pp.42-43n].

[9] Cf. Mat. 16:19-25 and Rom. 8:16-23. I should point out here that my criticism of ecclesiocracy is not intended to suggest that the leaders, or any other participants in such churches, will be damned. Damning is a prerogative which I believe ought to be left entirely in God's hands. If we regard Jesus as demonstrating in his life how God will respond to human beings, then, given the fact that the only people he ever seems to reject are the Pharisees (and other religious leaders), the principle of damnation would seem to be something like this: "The only people who will be excluded from salvation will be those who exclude others in God's name." However, if this principle is accurate, then I would not dare use it to pass judgment on a single person, lest I myself be excluded [cf. Mat. 7:1-2]! Instead, I am merely pointing out how people with good intentions can often be used most effectively in the service of evil.

[10] Those readers not interested in technical theological discussions of the nature of politics should feel free to skip to the last paragraph of this chapter.

[11] Reinhold Niebuhr's political theology is also regarded by many as insightful. Niebuhr hints at theocracy (though not by name) in N2:82,132-133,142,151,188-190. "The hope of the Christian faith [is] that the divine power which bears history can complete what even the highest human striving must leave incomplete" [189]. Thus he rightly insists that "the profundities of the Christian faith...are indispensable resources for the historic tasks which lie before us" [188]; yet the only "profundity" he ever consistently recognizes is sin! After distinguishing between "children of darkness", who "are evil because they know no law beyond the self", and "children of light", "who seek to bring self-interest under the discipline of a more universal law" [10], he notes that the "children of light", though virtuous, "are usually foolish because they do not know the power of self-will" [10-11]. Unfortunately, instead of defending biblical theocracy against the political systems established by these foolish children (who often promote a form of ecclesiocracy), he merely tries to revise their views by relating them to the Christian doctrine of human sinfulness. Thus, he argues against the Marxist utopia of a society without property ownership or private possessions, on the grounds that the inevitability of human selfishness destroys the viability of any such "ideal possibility" [91]. In place of Marxism he backs democracy as the best way to "harness" self-interest in order to improve the "general welfare" of mankind [186; cf. p.23n above]. Yet this, of course, ignores the deepest and simplest profundity of the Christian faith: that the welfare of mankind is improved not when individuals merely harness their self-interest, but when they are willing to die to it!

[12] See T3:8-9,23-39,58-60,66. Whereas the term "theocracy" focuses on God's power (kratos), the term "theonomy" refers to the implementation of God's law (nomos). Tillich defines "theonomy" as "Christian fulfillment of autonomous forms" [7; see also 55,62]; yet he uses this term as more or less coextensive with "theocracy". Neuhaus claims in N1:188 that Tillich views theocracy in an entirely negative way, as a form of "historical closure" and "idolatry". As we shall see, however, Tillich's criticisms apply only to movements which pervert the proper view of theocracy and/or theonomy. His most thorough treatment of theonomy comes in T2:249-275, where he explains this "law" as "the directedness of the self-creation of life under the dimension of the Spirit toward the ultimate in being and meaning" [249]. Tillich's distinction between theonomy, autonomy, and heteronomy corresponds closely to my distinction between theocracy, autocracy, and ecclesiocracy.

[13] T3:53; see also 84. Neuhaus gives a good description of this type of threefold development, in terms of political outlooks which are either authoritarian, autonomous, or recognizing proper authority [N1:17-18].

In T3:42 Tillich expresses his opposition to "the preoccupation of orthodoxy with pre-humanistic symbols." While it is true that mere repetition of so-called "biblical truths" can often lead to a radical disengagement from culture, which Tillich rightly criticizes [e.g., 36-39], this does not invalidate the older ways of expressing how the form of grace is instantiated. For instance, the fact that my account of theocracy is based primarily on the interpretation of biblical texts does not prevent it from being radically engaged in the cultural and political issues of the contemporary world [see Part Two].

[14] T3:66-67; see also 78. Tillich discusses theocracy in T3:66,70,76-78,82,84,86. In T3:81 he traces European imperialism (especially the English variety) back to the notion that nation-states are regarded "as bearers of theocratic ideas."

[15] See e.g., T3:79. The same cannot be said for all theologians who argue for quasi-theocratic political activism. Jacques Maritain, for instance, spearheaded the well-known "Christian Democracy" movement in France, which is still an influential political party in several European countries [see S5:114-117], and helped to draft the initial United Nations statements on human rights. Maritain's theology of politics defends a "two kingdoms" or "two cities" approach which goes against several aspects of the biblical theocracy I am defending here [see above, pp.34-36], particularly in relation to human rights. Though he agrees that in God's kingdom we have no rights, Maritain believes the proper task of earthly kingdoms is to defend ourselves and others against injustice by promoting human rights. In M3:152-189 he outlines his ideas on human rights and "new [i.e., Christian] Democracy" [165].

Maritain wrote M2 and M3 near the end of World War II in an effort to determine how democracy could best be reconstructed after the inevitable Allied victory. He admits in M2 that it would be wrong to think "Christian faith compels every believer to be a democrat"; yet he believes "the democratic impulse" naturally arises "as a temporal manifestation of the Gospel" [M2:28-29], so he tends to write as if democracy is the Christian political system. So firm is his confidence that he never quotes or even refers to a single passage of scripture in defense of his views! Instead, he merely assumes that "Christian values" and democracy share a common concern for the "historical ideal of generosity and fraternity", with its cultivation of "goodness, love and charity" [53], and for what he calls "heroic humanism" [76-84]. In M3 Maritain describes true democracy more precisely as "the ideal of a commonwealth of free men" [M3:134]. He traces the roots of his "humanist political philosophy", with its goal of constructing "a truly, not decoratively, Christian society", inspired by "the ideal of liberty and fraternity", back to the Aristotelian-Thomistic notion of "the common good" [135].

In response to all this the theocrat must ask: Where is the distinctively Christian element in Maritain's "Christian" democracy? In particular, where is the cross? In place of the cross, we find an attempt "to reestablish on the basis of a true philosophy our faith in the dignity of man and in his rights", rights based on "natural law" [M3:145; see also S7:13-16]. The best he can do is to remind us that the consciousness of this dignity was "awakened" by the gospel, "revealing to men that they are called upon to be the sons and heirs of God in the kingdom of God" [M3:147]. What the latter has to do with democracy and/or natural law, he never bothers to explain-nor could he explain, since the (theocratic) content of truly Christian politics is a call not to awaken ourselves to natural law, but to transcend it! Democracy, no doubt, can serve in some situations as a context in which the gospel is manifested [see S7:159-166]; but when it manages to fulfill this, its true goal, the reality it manifests is the reality of theocracy.

[16] By contrast, the critique of democracy given above in Chapter Two is primarily a critique of real democracy as it operates in the world Tillich's ideal democracy requires that "the strongest bearers of theonomy within a political realm should comprise the leading class of a nation" [T3:82]. Yet it remains unclear how this special "class" of leadership, this "aristocracy of spirit" [85], would differ from the"hierarchic and aristocratic" types of political leaders, which he says "contradict the affirmation of pure justice" [81-82].

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