BASIC GUIDELINES FOR IMPLEMENTING KINGDOM POLITICS

 

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

 

The Coming of God's Kingdom

 

      By now a host of practical questions is no doubt looming large in the minds of many readers, not the least of which is likely to be a nagging uncertainty as to whether the Bible is really so idealistic as to regard theocracy as a political system which could actually be implemented in the real world. Jesus makes frequent claims which seem to indicate that we should not regard theocracy as merely an unrealistic utopian ideal.[1] Here in Part Two we shall therefore examine some of these claims, and their practical implications, in detail. As we shall see, the reality of biblical theocracy, as something which is happening in the here and now, comes to look like an impossible ideal only when we human beings believe we can implement God's rule using our sinful human political methods.

 

      A good example of Jesus' insistence on the reality of theocracy is his repeated proclamation that "the kingdom of heaven is at hand [i.e., near to you]" [Mat. 3:12; 4:17; 10:7]. Of course, this claim can be interpreted as referring solely to Jesus' physical presence among the people. Yet even if we assume such an interpretation, anyone who believes Jesus the Christ is still in some sense present among us today must recognize that his claims about the presence of the heavenly kingdom apply as much to us as they did to his original audience. The kingdom of heaven (or "kingdom of God", as it is often called [see e.g., Mat. 12:28; Mk. 1:15; Lk. 10:9,11; 21:31]) should not be regarded as an ideal realm, existing only in heaven, and waiting for the moment when everyone alive on earth at a given period of time has heard and responded to the story of Jesus' death and resurrec­tion, at which point it will magically appear.[2]Rather, Jesus' words de­scribe a realm which is a reality now, and can be recognized as such by anyone who sees the vision Jesus was revealing.[3]

 

     The key words in Jesus' various descriptions of the kingdom of heaven are the words "at hand" (or "is near") and "coming". The many references in the Gospels to God's kingdom (i.e., theocracy) being at hand indicate that it is a reality which is near enough to see, even though it is not yet fully realized in the presently existing worldly king­doms. As an outwardly manifested reality, the kingdom of heaven is something we can see only as a vision of what is coming. But as an in­wardly manifested reality, it is present with varying degrees of clarity in each individual who is open to the way of divine government.[4]Thus, when the Pharisees ask Jesus "when the kingdom of God [is] coming", he ex­plains: "The kingdom of God is not coming with signs to be observed; ... For behold [i.e., "look!"], the kingdom of God is within you" [Lk. 17:20-21]. This suggests that the "coming" of the kingdom of heaven is a process which takes place first and foremost in the heart of each individual.

 

      Yet as Paul reminds us in Romans 8:22-23, this inner process also has an outward manifestation: "For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for ... the redemption of our body." As we shall see in Chapter Six, such inward and outward suf­fering is an integral part of theocratic political activism: for it brings the kingdom of heaven closer and closer to earth; it redeems the earth, just as salt revitalizes food [Mat. 5:13]. In his most detailed descrip­tion of the coming of God's kingdom, Jesus alludes to these "birth pangs" [24:8], and explains that the sufferings which will finally bring about the outward redemption of the earth will establish a synthesis of heaven and earth which transcends both realities as we now know them [24:29]. Thus Jesus says: "Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words shall not pass away" [24:35].

 

      The problem with most interpretations of the coming of God's kingdom is that its political implications are reduced to nothing by emphasizing the future coming (often thought of solely in terms of the "second coming" of Jesus), and regarding it as a single event in time. Yet the biblical writers more often emphasize its present reality, and regard it as a process which Jesus began (and will ultimately complete), but which the children of the kingdom are to cultivate further in their daily lives.[5] The best way of testing this interpretation of Jesus' statements about the coming of God's kingdom is to examine the extent of its consistency with other biblical texts. In so doing, we shall discover here in Chapter Five, and throughout Part Two, that the Bible contains no shortage of practical guide­lines for implemen­ting the "kingdom politics" of theocracy. By consistently regarding theocracy as a reality in­tended for the present, the biblical writers are able to provide ample advice as to how we can act in such a way as to promote the coming of God's kingdom, rather than work against its progressive realization.

 

Politics in Perspective

 

      There are in fact a number of passages in the New Testament which give quite clear guidance concerning how to promote theocracy while living in the midst of worldly political systems. Jesus sets the tone when in Matthew 22:15-22 he responds to a trick question about the justice of the Roman tax laws by saying: "render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's; and to God the things that are God's." The question was a trick because, if Jesus had said "pay the tax", he could have been accused of supporting a corrupt and oppressive political system, yet if he had said "don't pay the tax" he could have been accused of being a revolutionary. Instead, he responds by putting the whole issue in its proper perspective: the real issue is not one of deciding which laws are just, but one of recognizing what is important in life and what is not.[6] Interpreted in this light, the passage offers two implicit recommenda­tions to the theocrat. First, do the minimum necessary to satisfy the government in each situation. For example, pay taxes without complaint, even if they are unfair [cf. Mat. 17:24-27; Rom. 13:6-7]. Secondly, never offer any political system the absolute loyalty God alone deserves: never expect it to do what God alone can do. For example, we should never hope a political system can give us free­dom, because we will only be fooled into losing the very thing we seek.[7]

 

      These points become even clearer when this passage is read in connection with two of Jesus' other statements about money, which also have subtle political implications. In Matthew 6:24 Jesus compares one's attitude to wealth to the political power a master wields over a servant: "No one can serve two masters; ... You cannot serve God and mammon." Here Jesus is insisting that if we serve God there is no need to worry about money; anxiety about making money and/or accumulating worldly possessions will inevitably restrict our openness to God's power, thus replacing theocracy with what could be called "mammonacracy" (i.e., power held by material wealth).[8]In Matthew 17:24-27, by contrast, Jesus exempli­fies the correct attitude towards paying taxes by cooperating with those in authori­ty with­out becoming anxious about money (or power). He tells Peter that "the sons are exempt [or free]" from the tax laws [17:26]. Here he is suggesting that he and Peter (as participants in the kingdom of heaven) are free from the requirements of such worldly laws; yet in the next verse Jesus tells Peter to pay anyway "lest we give them offence", using a coin he will find in the mouth of a fish![9]

 

      Jesus' attitude of disinterested submission is not without support in the Old Testament itself. For instance, Ecclesiastes 8:2-6 recommends humble and even unquestioning obedience to the king:

 

 

Obey the king's command, I say, because you took an oath before God. Do not stand up for a bad cause [i.e., Do not protest against a bad command (see below, note 10)], for he [the king] will do whatever he pleases. Since a king's word is supreme, who can say to him, "What are you doing?" Whoever obeys his command will come to no harm, and the wise heart will know the proper time and procedure. For there is a proper time and procedure for every matter, though a man's misery weighs heavily upon him.

 

 

The context shows clearly enough that this applies not only to good, just kings, but also to unfair or "meaningless" situations, such as "when righteous men ... get what the wicked deserve, and wicked men...get what the righteous deserve" [8:14]. The wise person will "not stand [i.e., protest] against a bad command" [8:3],[10] but will wait for "the proper time and procedure", even though in the meantime "misery weighs heavily upon him" [8:6]. Why? Because when we see "all that God has done" [8:17], we must confess our own inability to discern his ways: "Despite all his efforts to search it out, man cannot discover its meaning. Even if a wise man claims he knows, he cannot really comprehend it." This attitude is perhaps best exemplified by David, who, when Saul is pursuing him, repeatedly rejects the idea that the evil king should be murdered.[11]

 

      The problem this raises, of course, is that some biblical characters did protest to their king and/or disobey commands that would require compromise with the rule of God in their heart. Thus, for example, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego refused to bow down to the king's golden image [Dan. 3:1-30], and Daniel refused to give up his daily prayer times [6:1-28], despite the fact that the king who had put these men in positions of authority in his kingdom [3:12; 6:2] had ordered everyone to do these things. Likewise, many of the early Christians, including Paul himself, were put in prison, tortured, and in many cases even killed for refusing to renounce their faith. Such stories suggest that the proper response to a situation in which the government requires us to disobey God is to refuse, but then willingly suffer the unjust punishment which results.[12]

 

      This is exactly what happens in the thoroughly political stories we read in Daniel. God's servants never protest against the unjust decrees; they simply disobey them, and willingly suffer the consequences, in the belief that God will be with them. That is, they are "willing to give up their lives rather than serve or worship any god except their own God" [Dan. 3:28]. And just as God closed the lions' mouths [6:16-23] and protected his servants from the heat of the flame [3:19-27], so also he is with all who suf­fer political persecution in order to testify to God's rule. For as we shall see in Chapter Six, such willing suffering is never without purpose from the theocratic perspective.

 

      In order to accept the authority of a worldly political system, the theocrat must trust God enough to believe that God himself oversees the human situation and is able to use even the most evil (perhaps anti-Christian) governments to accomplish his purposes in ways we can never hope to understand. Throughout the book of Judges, for example, God uses foreign nations [see e.g., Jud. 9:50-57] and even "an evil spirit" [9:23] to punish the wicked ways of the people of Israel. And the same pattern crops up throughout the Prophets [see e.g., Is. 10:5-7,12-13]. This is possible because, whether he knows it or not, "The king's heart is like channels of water in the hand of the Lord; he turns it wherever he wishes" [Prov. 21:1].

 

      The New Testament further supports and elaborates Jesus' adaptation of these Old Testament ideas. Romans 13:1-7 is the most often cited example. Unfortunately, it is often taken out of its immediate context, in which Paul is explaining that love requires us to be submissive in the face of persecution and evil [12:14-13:10], allowing God to punish the evildoer [12:17-20], lest we in our resistance to evil be "overcome by evil" ourselves [12:21]. As his chief example of how we are to respond to our enemies, Paul asserts that all governments "are estab­lished by God" [13:1] for the purpose of encouraging "good behavior" [13:3]. Even though Paul himself had suffered greatly under the Roman government, and was soon to be executed, he insists that we never need to fear the government if our priorities are in the right place-i.e., if we "Do what is good" [13:3] by owing nothing to anyone "except to love one another" [13:8]. He therefore admonishes us always to "submit" to the political authorities under which God has placed us [13:1], no matter how good or evil they seem to be when we judge them from our limited perspective.[13]

 

            Much the same point is made in 1 Peter 2:13-16:

 

 

Submit yourselves for the Lord's sake to every human institu­tion, whether to a king as the one in authority, or to gover­nors as sent by him for the punishment of evildoers and the praise of those who do right. For such is the will of God that by doing right you may silence the ignorance of foolish men. Act as free men, and do not use your freedom as a covering for evil, but use it as bondslaves of God.

 

 

This passage tells us to "submit" not because the political powers are to be viewed as a means of salvation, or even protection; rather, "as free men" (i.e., free from bondage to any worldly political system, because of being "bondslaves of God") we should accept willingly whatever political authority currently exists, because to disobey or revolt would be to "use ... freedom as a covering for evil". And, like Romans 13:1-4, this attitude of submission is to be adopted irrespective of whether the authority in question is good or evil. For the passage goes on to state explicitly that slaves are to submit "not only to those [masters] who are good and considerate, but also to those who are harsh. For it is commendable if a man bears up under the pain of unjust suffering because he is conscious of God."[14]

 

      Undoubtedly the best example of such submission to unjust political authority is given in Jesus' own attitude during his arrest, trial, and crucifixion. Although sometimes provocative [see E4:67-71], he firmly repudiates the possibility of using violence in response to his arrest [e.g., Jn. 18: 11,36], and willingly allows himself to be pushed around and physically abused by one official after another [18:12-19:16]. Pilate's decision to allow Jesus to be crucified was undoubtedly unfair, based as it was on political pressure rather than truth and goodness [19:12; cf. Lk. 23:23-25]. Nevertheless, Jesus tells him that he would have no "authority" over him "unless it had been given you from above" [Jn. 19:11]. Assuming Jesus is here referring to the God-given character of all political authority,[15] we can take this comment as clear evidence that Jesus did not regard God's authority as applicable only to the good things a government and its politicians do! And it is only in the light of his confidence in God's rule that we can understand how Jesus could respond to the mocking he received from the religious leaders [Mat. 27:41-43] and even from the rulers [Lk. 23: 35] while hanging on the cross, not with bitterness, but with words of care [Jn. 19:26-27], concern [Lk. 23:28-31], and even forgiveness [23:34].

 

      Accepting the God-given authority of government, or quietly disobeying it and accepting the penalty in God's name, goes hand in hand with another practical biblical guideline, which is that the theocrat should not get too deeply involved in debates over political issues. As Paul warns in Titus 3:9 (with primary reference to church politics), the theocrat should "shun fool­ish controversies ... and disputes about the Law; for they are unprofitable and worthless." Although this does not mean all political action is to be shunned, it should serve as a warning against becoming too attached to one side of any legal or political issue. For doing so can often lead us away from the vision of theocratic love, rather than towards its greater and greater fulfillment.

 

      The importance of this attitude of non-attachment is implied by Jesus' last recorded admonition to his disciples: "Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations ..." [Mat. 28:19]. By leaving home and dwelling in a foreign land, the theocrat will find it much easier to resist the temptation to be overly attached to political quarrels, since the political situation in the home country can now be viewed from the outside, and since that in the new country is foreign and thus lacks the natural attractiveness of the familiar political system. Jesus knew from experience that "no prophet is welcome in his home town" [Lk. 4:24] and that "a prophet has no honor in his own country" [Jn. 4:44], because the closer we are to our childhood home, the more awkward it is to remain unattached to politico-economic and socio-cultural concerns [see also Mat. 13:54-58 and Mk. 6:1-6]. In this sense, the "Go" aspect of Jesus' parting admonition may have been intended to emphasize a necessary precondition for "making disciples" (namely, non-attachment to the political safety of one's home town).[16]Although the purpose for Jesus' admonition is not limited to this, the political non-attachment which results from obeying Jesus' command to "Go" is certainly more than just a by-product. For the Gospels repeatedly stress that Jesus and his disciples "proclaim[ed] the gospel of the kingdom" wherever they went [Mat. 4:23; 9:35; 24:14; Mk. 1:14; Lk. 4:23; 9:2,60]. In other words, the "good news" is not complete if its political heart is not recognized.

 

      Political non-attachment does not, however, imply a total lack of participation in or concern for the current political situation. On the contrary, we are to realize the futility of such worldly battles because, as we read in the book of Revelation, God has commissioned his first-born Son, Jesus, to wage war in the form of a Lamb against the evil nations. Our duty is to watch faithfully as God does this work, and to join in the battle by equipping ourselves with inner, spiritual weapons, not external, political ones.[17] This means, for example, that theocracy can by definition never become a political party. For the theocrat must give up the desire to use politics to change the current political situation, and must adopt instead the political attitude of the Lamb, which says: "Die to politics!"[18]

 

Social Justice and Human Poverty

 

      There is one important qualification to the principles suggested above and in Chapter Three, that theocrats ought to reject the idea of inalienable human rights and remain unattached to any particular worldly political system. For the biblical writers-especially in the Old Testament-repeatedly cry out against poverty, injustice, and oppression, demanding that we do something to change these evils whenever we see them. Thus, Isaiah 10:1-2 exclaims: "Woe to those who enact evil statutes ... and rob the poor of my people from their rights ..." The wicked "do not defend the rights of the poor" [Jer. 5:28], for they "do not understand justice" [Prov. 28:5].

 

      The mandate for those who do understand justice is equally clear. Righteousness is not achieved by escaping from the world by means of religious rituals; rather the true "fast" is

 

 

To loosen the bonds of wickedness,

To undo the bands of the yoke,

And to let the oppressed go free ...

... to divide your bread with the hungry,

And bring the homeless poor into the house;

When you see the naked, to cover him ... [Is. 58:6-7].

 

 

Proverbs 31:4-9 likewise warns kings not to "desire strong drink" lest their judgment of the poor and oppressed be perverted:

                       

Open your mouth for the dumb,

For the rights of all the unfortunate.

Open your mouth, judge righteously,

And defend the rights of the afflicted and needy.

 

 

      Two questions arise out of such passages: What type of political system (i.e., legal coercion) best promotes social justice? and Should we use military force to accomplish this goal? The second question will be answered in Chapter Seven. In answering the first question we must begin by stressing that such passages do not treat social justice as the sole duty of the state.[19] On the contrary, where political powers are mentioned, they are usually presented as the cause of social injustice. As a result, the call for social justice is not primarily concerned with promoting a particular political system (i.e., no specific type of agreement between citizens and a state is being recommended), but with encouraging individuals to respond to the realities of the society in which they live. When we see a terrible injustice-say, for example, an IRA bombing or a Beijing massacre-we are not to react merely by taking to the streets in protest or by demanding that the government change its evil ways. Rather, as theocrats, we are to fall on our knees to repent for the part we have played in bringing about such a disaster; we are to trust in God's sovereignty as having some reason behind what seems to be nothing but madness; and we are to do anything in our power on a practical level to help the persons who have suffered.[20] In so doing, we acknowledge that true justice cannot be forced into existence, but comes only when we let God be the judge [see E1:28,252-258]. Our task, then, is to endeavor not to block God's judgment with our own; instead of pronouncing judgment ourselves, we are to "let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!" [Am. 5:24; cf. Mat. 7:1-2].

 

      One of the most commonly recurring themes throughout both the Old and New Testaments is that God's heart goes out to the poor and the oppressed, regardless of why they are that way or who is to blame [see e.g., Ps. 18:27; 82:1-4; 103:6, 140:12; Is. 61:1-2; Lk. 4:18-19]. As we shall see in Chapter Seven, our responsibility to these people is to love them, which in this case means being willing to offer them anything we have to satisfy their basic needs. Thus, when the Bible admonishes us to stand up for their "rights", it is not suggesting that we campaign for a better nationalized health and welfare program! On the contrary, such political "solutions" often give citizens the false impression that it is no longer their duty to help individuals in need.[21] Moreover, they tend to blind the average citizens to the reality of their own poverty before God.

 

      Interestingly, by their society's standards not one of Jesus' twelve disciples was outwardly poor or suffering.[22] They were all ordinary men at various stages in their careers, whom Jesus called to leave everything behind [Mat. 8:19-22; 19:27] to become poor and hungry [10:9-10; 12:1], and eventually persecuted [10:16-23], in order to follow him. Conversely, when Jesus ministered to the poor and suffering, he often did not encourage them to become his disciples [e.g., 8:1-17; Mk. 5:18-19]! The reason for these two surprising facts becomes evident once we realize that on a deeper, spiritual level, the Bible depicts all people as poor before God.[23] Since many of those to whom Jesus ministered healing already fully recognized their poverty and were ready and willing to receive God's gifts, they had no need to learn the lesson Jesus was teach­ing his disciples: to recognize the depth of their own poverty.

 

      Social injustice is, in fact, caused by those who fail to recognize their own poverty. Those who view themselves as rich and healthy are the ones who are furthest from God, and who therefore find theocracy hardest to accept [cf. Mk. 2:17 and 10:23-27]. This is why political attempts to resolve the problem of social injustice are bound to fail: they all operate by trying to make the poor richer, instead of trying to help the rich to recognize their poverty.[24]But Jesus begins the Sermon on the Mount by announcing that those who are "poor in spirit" will receive "the kingdom of heaven" [Mat. 5:3]. For theocrats, therefore, a necessary prerequisite for promoting social justice is to recognize the reality of our own poverty before God. Then and only then can we begin to practice theocratic activism, by reaching out in love to everyone we see in order to demonstrate the good news, that the God who died is alive, and loves the poor.

 

The Theocratic Politician

 

      If social justice requires first and foremost individuals who recognize their own poverty to respond to the needs of the poor and oppressed, then is there ever any justification for a person who sees the theocratic vision as a present reality to participate in worldly politics as such? In particular, should the theocrat ever run for office, or act as a political leader of some sort, in the context of a worldly political system? Surely the answer to such questions must be "yes". For the Old Testament has much to say about the importance of rulers exercising their power and authority in a just way, out of a fear of God [see e.g., p.84n above]. Nothing about biblical theocracy excludes the possibility of a theocrat being called to fulfill the vocation of a politician.[25] However, a politician with a truly theocratic spirit would be entering into one of the most dangerous of all vocations.

 

      The reason the theocratic politician's vocation is so dangerous is that such a person will adopt an attitude to politics which is likely to be diametrically opposed to the prevailing trends. First, whereas most politicians enter their profession either out of selfish motives, such as a thirst for power (i.e., because they want to control people), or because they believe politics holds the key to justice and truth, or both, the theocratic politician would enter the profession fully aware of his or her own powerlessness to implement policies which, in themselves, are truly beneficial to the citizens. For the theocrat will recognize that, although politics (like all aspects of culture) is not in itself evil, it becomes an instrument for evil whenever the politician holds on to his or her power, or trusts in it as an autonomous source of goodness.[26] To take up such a profession, therefore, is advisable only for those who have been called to do so, and ought to be shunned by anyone who tends to enjoy having power and/or controlling other people; for the theocratic politician is sure to be regarded as a fool by those who practice politics in the normal, worldly way.[27]

 

      How then should the theocratic politician exercise power and authority? The story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples the night before he died [Jn. 13:3-11] provides a helpful clue. In John 13:12-17 Jesus explains that his action should serve as "an example that you also should do as I did to you": those who, like Jesus, are in the position to be called "teacher", "lord", or "master" ought to see themselves as servants. He goes on to tell them about his ensuing betrayal and death. This suggests that theocratic leadership of any type (whether it be as a politician, a pastor, a proprietor, or a parent) requires us not only to adopt the posture of a servant, but to be willing to maintain this posture even to the point of death.

 

      Jesus describes the nature of theocratic leadership even more explicitly in Matthew 18:1-6. In response to his disciples' quarrel over who "is greatest in the kingdom of heaven" [18:1], Jesus does not reply by telling them the kingdom of heaven will have no such hierarchies, since it is not political, but spiritual. Rather, he reveals to them the new political quality of the hierarchies in God's kingdom: "Whoever humbles himself as this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven" [18:4]. Thus, as Yoder explains in Y1:46, Jesus' "alternative to how the kings of the earth rule is not [mere] 'spirituality' but servanthood."

 

      Jesus uses such "synthetic logic" [see above, p.83n] to describe theocratic politics in numerous other passages, such as the following:

 

 

You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave ... [Mat. 20:25-27].

 

But you are not to be called "Rabbi", for you have only one Master and you are all brothers. And do not call anyone on earth "father", for you have one Father, and he is in heaven. Nor are you to be called "teacher", for you have one Teacher, the Christ. The greatest among you will be your servant. For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted. [23:8-12]

 

 

From a non-theocratic perspective, such advice would appear to condone political suicide, leading as it often would to loss of votes, loss of office, and perhaps even loss of life. From the theocratic perspective, however, this most noble of all fates is honored as "martyrdom" [see e.g., Ac. 6:8-7:60].

 

      Picturing politicians as "public servants", or even "servants of God", as Paul puts it in Romans 13:6, is an ideal to which many aspire, but which is rarely taken seriously, even within the context of church politics. This is because the notion of a "servant" is usually watered down (as in terms such as "public servant") to mean someone whose job it is to lead or to exercise some kind of political authority. Thus, for example, Neuhaus warns against an over-spiritualized view of church politics, since church leadership is in reality more or less the same as "electoral or corporate politics" [N1:59]. The cold fact, as he presents it, is that "the business of leadership is to lead". By contrast, Jesus' radical model of theocratic leadership as leading-by-following [see e.g., Jn. 12:49], which applies to the politics of both church and state, as well as to one's occupation and household, is based on the idea that the business of leadership is to serve, thus equipping others with the power and authority to lead.

 

      Theocratic service requires politicians to give up the idea that their posi­tion as leaders gives them the privilege to wield power and authority over those entrusted to their care. Moses is in this sense a good example of a theocratic political leader. After his exile in the wilderness, to avoid being punished for defending a fellow Hebrew by killing an Egyptian [Ex. 2:11-15], God calls him into a position of political leadership. He is reluctant to take up the position [3:11; 4:1,10], apparently having lost all desire to control other people. Finally, when he sees that God is able to give him the gift of special power [4:2-17], he agrees to act on God's behalf to free the people of Israel from bondage. Later, after the people have been set free to wander in the wilderness, they threaten to elect another leader [e.g., Num. 14:4], and Moses responds not by defending his own right to lead, but by encouraging the people to trust in God's leadership [14:8-9]. The one time he tries to control his God-given power himself [20:2-12], Moses' action backfires. He thus recognizes that he himself must die before the people can enter the promised land [Deut. 34:1-5].

 

      Theocratic politicians must not view their task as that of grasping the power and authority of divine law and bringing it down to earth [cf. p.54n above], but rather as opening their hands and hearts in a profound recognition of their own poverty and powerlessness in order to receive whatever good gifts God wishes them to pass on to the people. The politician who ignores this mandate, who tries to wield power and authority in their worldly forms, is in danger of being subject to God's words to the wicked "prince of Israel", from whom power will be withheld "until he comes whose right it is; and I shall give it to him" [Ezk. 21:25-27]: "Exalt that which is low, and abase that which is high."

 

      In other words, theocratic politicians must forego the tactics of worldly politics, whereby tasks are accomplished by knowing the right people (the people in high places) or by proudly parading the exclusive rightness of one's own views. A characteristic of theocracy which is often misunderstood by well-meaning Christians is that we do not know in advance how it will work; there are no predetermined policies which are absolutely right in every situation. Theocracy puts us in a position of humility, requiring us to renounce the pride assumed by worldly politics. This means that when it comes to supporting or rejecting a certain policy, the theocrat should not proudly insist that "God says so!" For as Neuhaus rightly states in N1:43-44, "the facile invocation of the deity [to support a certain policy or one side of a political debate] can be dangerous to politics and ... devalue the currency of moral discourse." Theocratic politicians, paradoxically, are unlikely to be the ones who regularly use God's name as a mask for their own power-mongering. Instead, they are more likely to be the ones who recognize the inability of those on either side of most political debates to reflect the heart and mind of God.

 

      Perhaps the main reason why theocratic politicians are not likely to flourish within worldly political systems is that they would not be able to campaign, or at least, not in the way politicians normally campaign. Like both Saul and David, the first two kings of Israel, they should not seek to be established in a position of political leadership, but should concern themselves with fulfilling the immediate tasks God has put before them (finding lost donkeys [1 Sam. 9:3] and tending sheep [16:11], respectively), accepting a position of leadership only when it is presented to them as a gift.[28]

 

      The same holds true for theologians or church leaders who do not wish their ideas or pronouncements to be taken as binding law. Those who wish to preserve true theocratic freedom will recognize that theocracy can be prevented from being perverted into ecclesiocracy only when the leaders are willing to die to their own position of leadership. This is not merely a fig­ure of speech. The more theologians can recognize an element of truth in an opposing position, the more humility they adopt in defending their own position, the better chance there is that their ideas will not stop others from knowing God, but will encourage them to progress further in their own creative thinking. Likewise, the more pastors can step down from the pulpit and allow the laity to care for the flock, the more teachers can be silent and allow the student to teach, the better chance there is for God's word to be presented in such a way that it does not become an excuse for one human being to exercise political domination over other human beings in the name of God.

 


 



[1]      For a good discussion of the concept of "utopia" (which comes from the Greek words 'ou and tópos, meaning "no place"), see T3:125-180. Tillich explains the appeal of utopian interpretations of history by noting that "it belongs to man's essence to project something utopian beyond himself" [154]. "The principle of all utopias is the nega­tion of the negative" [155]. Because human beings are finite, that is, a "mixture of being and non-being, there is a "contradiction between what we essentially are and what we actually are", which utopian ideas try to remove [155]. Utopia has three types of "positive meaning" [168-169]: (1) "Because it expresses man's essence", "utopia is truth"; (2) "Utopia opens up possibili­ties that would remain hidden", so it is "fruitfulness"; and (3) utopia is "power", because it "is able to transform the given." But it also has three corresponding types of "negative meaning", if it is wrongly regarded not symbolically, but as a concrete historical reality [170-172]: (1) if it "forgets the finitude and alienation of man", utopia is "untruth"; (2) if "it describes impossibilities as real possibilities", utopia is "unfruitfulness"; and (3) if both of these errors are committed, utopia is "impotence", because it then "leads inevitably to disillusionment."

        Biblical theocracy is fully in accord with this analysis, inasmuch as it recog­nizes theocracy as a guiding vision of the "not yet". For as Tillich rightly says, "if a utopia posits something preliminary as absolute", it is "demonic", and "disillusionment follows" [T3:173; see also 178]. Theocracy is a healthy version of utopi­anism only insofar as it recognizes the absolute (God) as absolute and the preliminary (humanity) as preliminary. Tillich himself states in T3:179 that "the kingdom of God is actualized in historical events.... But...it does not promise a utopian finality to any 'place' in history but makes itself known again and again in new realizations, so that the truth of utopia is always borne out." This "truth", he concludes [180] is that "it is the spirit of utopia that conquers utopia." My use of "Theocracy Now!" as the title of Part Two is intended in precisely this way: only the spirit of theocracy born again in each moment can conquer the false theocracies which, as we saw in Chapter Four, so often distort the biblical model.

[2]      This view is based on a simplistic interpretation of Matthew 24:14. It must be re­jected because it assumes humanity is in control of the conditions for Christ's second coming (and so also, for the final culmination of God's kingdom), whereas the true con­dition is that all humanity must relinquish control-i.e., "all things [must be] subjected to [God]" [1 Cor. 15:28]. The end will arrive only when nobody (including the "Son" himself [Mat. 24:36-44]-i.e., the one who dies to the temptation to control God)-claims any longer to know when the end will arrive [see below, pp.71-72n]: that is why Jesus says it will come like a "thief" [24:43].

 

[3]      Koh­k aptly describes the presence of the kingdom of heaven in terms of the ever-new and continuing process of eternity breaking into time [K5:169; see also T4:86-87]. As such, he sug­gests, it is misleading to picture this kingdom as a future event to be fully realized in its temporal form, as if this kingdom were merely a development of human history.

        In N1 Neuhaus makes this mistake by repeatedly assuming God's kingdom "is not yet part of historically available experience" [123; see also 225]; since he believes it lies entirely in the distant future, he regards it as irrelevant to contemporary political concerns. Thus he says in N1:125: "The hunger for a truly satisfying way of putting the world in order is laudable. But that is a hunger for the kingdom of God, and it is dangerously misplaced when it is invested in the political arena." In saying this Neuhaus, the archrival of those who advocate the so-called "naked public square" (i.e., the ideal of pol­itics with­out religion), is ironically insisting that politics must not be clothed with the only clothing that fits it properly! After rightly describing history as "the unfolding story of God's purposes", he adds "culminating in the vindication that is the kingdom of God" [61], thus neglecting the fact that God's kingdom is not only the final product, but also the progressive "unfolding" which leads to that end.

        Maritain likewise fails to see Jesus' vision of God's king­dom with quite the clarity of Koh­k. Thus he declares in M2:34: "Hard experience has taught us that the kingdom of God is not meant for earthly history", though we are "enigmatically prepared" for it here; instead, the true goal of all politics is the "ideal" of a "brotherly city" [M3:129-130]. Jesus' vision of God's kingdom, by contrast, reveals not just a remote "ideal" or a super-earthly paradise, but an eternal dimension which can be and is becoming a reality in our earthly history, discolored as it is by the perversions of worldly political strivings. Eller shows in E1:221-235 how the biblical (theocratic) view of history consistently portrays the presence of this dimension in terms of death and resurrection.

 

[4]      Once this is recognized, doctrinal disputes over the exact timing of Jesus' return (e.g., whether it be pre-trib, mid-trib, post-trib, pre-mil, post-mil or a-mil) become irrelevant [cf. p.70n above]. The coming of Jesus and his Father's kingdom, which Eller rightly says is "now underway" [E1:xiv], will not be furthered by such debates; for they ignore our necessary ignorance of God's ways [see e.g., Is. 55:8-9], an ignorance which applies to some extent even to Jesus and the angels [Mat. 24:36]. In light of Jesus' self-confessed ignorance of God's exact timing, his suggestion that the end is coming soon [e.g., 10:23; 16:28; 24:34] may be not so much a temporal prediction as an indication of the ex­treme clarity of his vision-i.e., of his ability to see theocracy as a reality. Likewise, the references to his coming "on" or "with" clouds [Mat. 24:30; 26:64; cf. Dan. 7:13; Rev. 1:7] should be regarded not as a literal prediction of his mode of transport, but as a symbol of the difficulty we have in seeing the vision of the crucified coming in power, due mainly to our tendency to resort to worldly power to resolve our problems [see above, p.48n]. As Ellul puts it in E4:70n, "the clouds...simply denote the impossibility of knowing or penetrating the mystery."

        Our necessary ignorance on such matters does not, however, lessen the importance of hope and expectation for Christ's second coming. For as Ellul rightly explains, "by hope, he [the Christian] makes the coming of the kingdom actual", even though its full manifestation lies in the future [E3:51]. This, he says, is the essence of what it means to be a "revolutionary Christian" [see also 49-52,86, and passim]. Moreover, Stringfellow emphasizes that "[t]he biblical treatment of both advents...is manifestly political" [S6: 76, emphasis added]: despite our convenient tendency to overlook the political elements (e.g., in our cultural adaptation of the Christmas story), they are actually quite prominent in the text. In order for our faith to be effectual, he then argues, the hope ac­company­ing all our attitudes towards worldly politics must be an expectation of Christ's imminent re­turn. Thus it is no accident that the loss of this biblical (theocratic) escha­tology went hand in hand with the advent of Constantinian Christianity: "the loss of conviction about the imminence of the Eschaton...readily abets the dependency of the church upon the po­litical powers and other institutions of the status quo" [S6:82; see also 48-51 and E1:22-23,116]. Tragically, this inevitably results in the perversion of theocracy into ecclesiocracy. Indeed, such conformity of the church to the world is, as Ellul points out [E4:104], evident in every age: "the church was monarchist under the kings, imperialist under Napolean, and republican under the Republic, and now the church...is becoming social­ist in France." History alone, quite apart from the arguments presented in Chapter Two, should therefore make us highly suspicious of those who proclaim that we "now know" democracy is the Christian political system [see e.g., T4:178 and p.62n above].

 

[5]      Cf. Zec. 9:9 and Rev. 22:7,12,17,20. Since keys are used to unlock doors, we can interpret Jesus' reference to "the keys of the kingdom" [Mat. 16:19] as a symbolic statement of the fact that he will leave his fol­lowers with the awesome responsibility of unlocking the door which separates heaven and earth. This "door", I would suggest, is human self-will, and the "key" is not right doctrine (as is so often assumed), but a heart for self-giving love. Jacob's dream of "a ladder...set on the earth with its top reaching to heaven" and with "the angels of God...ascending and descending on it" [Gen. 28:12] is a beautiful glimpse of what happens when this door is unlocked.

        Tinder goes so far as to say in T4:11 that "the central proposition of the Christian faith is the inevitable coming of the Kingdom of God." Indeed, all Jesus' parables are in­tended to reveal aspects of this kingdom-i.e., of a theocratic political system-and most portray it as in some sense a present reality [see e.g., P6:38-39]. Perrin insists that in Jesus' mouth "kingdom of God" functions not as a "conception", but as a "symbol" [5]. When this is recognized, he argues, all questions about whether God's kingdom is past, present, or future are "seen to be false questions" [197]. Rather, as the consensus among scholars rightly suggests, the coming of the kingdom is a "process" [39-40], the furtherance of which is encouraged by Jesus' symbolic language. And in much the same way, as Tillich explains, Jesus' mira­cles are intended "not primar­ily...to show what a divine power he had, but...to show...that the expected utopia, the regeneration of being, of the universe, is about to come.... [So] in every act of healing the coming kingdom of God is already anticipated, its presence is already announced" [T3:161-162].

        Along these lines, Ellul observes that "the future tense...in Hebrew, presup­poses thattheactionisalreadybegun"[E2:140;see also41].Moreover,asYodernotesinY1: 109n: "The not-having-come and the having-come of the Rule of God were both pre­sent in the faith of each biblical epoch." The idea that Jesus was predicting an imminent end of human history is, Yoder argues, nothing but a modern prejudice read into the text by modern scholars; for Jesus, such an idea would have been "unthinkable", given his socio-historical context.

[6]      Ellul offers a similar interpretation in E4:60: "Paying or not paying taxes is not a basic question; it is not even a true political question." He surmises that the choice of which question would best trick Jesus implies that "stories must have been circulating that he was telling people not to pay taxes" [59]. This may well have been true; but in any case, Jesus' reply would seem to indicate that such stories were false! Indeed, Ellul's suggestion seems to arise more out of his personal objection to tax-paying [see below, p.77n] than out of the text itself.

        To prevent this passage from being used to "legitimize" any worldly political system (e.g., by claiming it supports those who regard some particular system as a good and "holy" representative of God's rule on earth), Eller asks in E1:127: "rather than saying that we do pay [Caesar] taxes, wouldn't it be more correct to say that we do not stop him from collecting what belongs to him...?" Such a negative reading has the advantage of highlighting Jesus' emphasis on the importance of remaining unattached to the power of any worldly political system [see below, p.82]: we do not act in the arena of worldly politics as such; but we also do not refuse to allow that arena to act upon us.

 

[7]      Cf. Mat. 16:25-26. Yoder claims in Y1:53 that Jesus' "render to Caesar..." is pointing "to demands or prerogatives which somehow overlap or compete, needing to be disentangled", not to a radical dichotomy between the political and the spiritual. While disen­tangling competing claims is certainly a good way of describing Jesus' intention to put politics in its proper perspective, Yoder takes his argument too far in the direction of the merely political, to the extent that he seems at times to be denying the relevance of any "inner meaning" for this and other sayings of Jesus [but cf. 211,232]. Sanford goes to the opposite extreme in S1, by focusing entirely on the inner meaning of Jesus' say­ings regarding God's kingdom. As I see it, biblical theocracy requires a position midway be­tween these two extremes: the inner ("spiritual") meaning of the gospel of the king­dom is (indeed, must be) put in the place of merely external political systems in order to re­tain its full meaning. To see one extreme without the other is to see the theocratic vision with only one eye [see below, pp.110-112].

[8]      Although "mammonacracy" may sound like a far-fetched neologism, it is, in fact, an accurate label for what many theorists have argued is the chief advantage of democracy-cum-capitalism: namely, the "market economy", whose invisible forces are supposed by many Christians to be beneficial, even though they are based on the principle of anxiety about "mammona" [i.e., riches], commonly called "consumerism". Yet the mam­monac­racy of consumerism is in reality a form of escapism [see above, pp.50-52], for people most often use material wealth (e.g., in the form of leisure activities) as a way of forgetting about their duty to engage in the world. For an excellent discussion of the dangers of consumerism, see K5:191-192. As we shall see in Chapters Six and Seven, the willingness to give up our possessions, or at least not to worry about holding on to them, frees us from the oppression riches often create [see Jas. 5:1-6], and enables us to participate in the world in ever new and creative ways. As Bonhoeffer puts it in B2:231: "The poverty of Christ's messengers is the proof of their freedom."

 

[9]      In commenting on this passage, Ellul rightly says in E4:64: "The miracle displays the complete indifference of Jesus to the king, the temple authorities, etc." But Jesus' choice of a fish should not be regarded as merely accidental. In light of the early Christians' subsequent use of the fish as a symbol of their faith (because the Greek word for "fish" is an acronym for "Jesus Christ Son of God Savior"), the choice of a fish in this story (rather than a cow or a bird, for example) was probably intended to symbolize Jesus' dominion over the power of money [cf. note 8 above].

[10]    Most English translations of the Hebrew clause "'al-ta'amod bedabar ra'" [Ec. 8:3] assume the "be" prefix to mean "for" or "in the presence of", thus rendering this verse an obvious platitude: that we should not defend a bad cause to a king. Yet such a translation does not fit the context, which talks about a wise person [8:1] obeying a king [8:2,5] who "will do whatever he pleases" [8:3] in a world that is unjust and even "meaningless" [8:9-10]. This passage assumes, as elsewhere in Ecclesiastes [e.g., 3:16], that the king is bad while the wise person is good; so it would hardly be relevant to tell the good person not to defend a bad cause! Rather, as the very next verse makes clear by restating the same point, the clause in verse 3 is telling us not to protest, not to ask "What are you doing?" [8:4]-a question that makes sense only if these verses are referring to potential complaints against the king's bad policies. (Cf. Proverbs 16:14, where the king is good.)

        An equally good translation of the "be" prefix, "against" [see D1:56], renders this verse fully consistent with its context. That the prefix can have this meaning specifically when it comes after the word 'amad (the root form of ta'amod), as "to stand against", is affirmed in D1:602. Moreover, the word to which this prefix is attached is rendered loosely as "cause" or "matter" in most translations of Ecclesiastes 8:3, even though the primary meaning of dabar is "word" or "command" (as in the Ten Commandments) [D1: 144]. A literal translation of this term would therefore make it virtually impossible to take this verse as referring to anything but the king's "bad dabar". Taken together, these considerations lend full support to translating this clause as "do not stand against a bad command". (Proverbs 9:7-8 offers similar advice for less explicitly political situations.)

 

[11]    See 1 Sam. 24:6-7,10; 26:9-12; 2 Sam. 1:14-16. Ellul rightly says "Ecclesiastes...seriously challenges political power" [E4:52]; but he apparently misinterprets the type of challenge being recommended, since he regards passages recommending obedience to the king, such as Ecclesiastes 10:20 ("do not curse a king"), as "irony" [E4:52-53]. By contrast,h e supports all kinds of "objection" (including tax evasion [15,17; but cf.p.81 below, and p.74n above]) against which, as we have seen, the writer of Ecclesiastes clearly speaks. Thus Ellul says in E4:16:"It is essential that we lodge objections to everything, and especial­ly to the police and the deregulation of the judicial process. We must unmask the ideo­logi­­­cal false­hoods of the many powers, and especially we must show that the famous theory of the rule of law which lulls the democracies is a lie from beginning to end." Although I heartily affirm the sentiments of the latter statement [see above, Chapter Two], I cannot fully support Ellul's call to protest [see below, p.132n]. For the wisdom of Ecclesiastes is not anarchic but theocratic: the theocrat avoids conflict with political powers because, in the light of the reality of God's rule, all policies, whether just or unjust in human eyes, amount to "vanity and striving after wind" [Ec. 2:26].

 

[12]    See also Ac. 5:27-33. Maritain is certainly right to say in M3:96: "An unjust law is not a law." For Jesus himself disregarded the unjust (or at least, inappropriate) laws governing the Sabbath day [e.g., Mat. 12:1-14]. However, there is no biblical evidence to support the notion that those who break false laws in this way are justified in refusing or protesting against punishment as a result. On the contrary, the plot against Jesus' life seems to have started, in all four Gospels, as a direct result of Jesus' disregard for Sabbath laws [Mat. 12:14; Mk. 3:6; Lk. 6:11; Jn. 5:16]. In such situations, therefore, we must choose between obeying an "illegal law" and suffering an unfair punishment. The problem with Maritain's statement, incidentally, is that it does not go far enough: Paul says Christians are free not just from unjust laws, but from all law whatsoever [see Rom. 6:14; 7:4-6; 1 Cor. 10:23]!

[13]    See also Eph.6:5-8; Tit.3:1; Heb.13:17; E1:42-47,196-204; E4:80-81,86-90. The question this often raises is: What if the government requires me to do something wrong, something God has commanded me not to do? Rulers who refuse to "render...to God the things that are God's" [Mat. 22:21] are obviously evil misusers of their God-given power. But that is not the issue. The issue is: How are we to respond to such an evil ruler? Does Jesus' "render to Caesar" require us to obey the law even when it is unjust, inasmuch as Caesar cannot touch that in us which truly belongs to God, even if he tries? Bonhoeffer answers by insisting that we should never resist governments even if they are evil [B2:292-297]-a view which strangely conflicts with his own sub­sequent participa­tion in a plot to assassinate Hitler! (On the unfortunate inconsistency between this action and Bonhoeffer's published interpretation of Christian discipleship, see E1:157-164. As Eller explains [144], he and Barth were"simply...unable to live up to their own ideals.")

        Those who use Romans 13 to defend Bonhoeffer's action (as opposed to his stated belief), or the actions of anyone who actively protests against evil authorities, have to twist Paul's meaning in one of several ways. Stringfellow does this by arguing that the reference to "those who do good" and "those who do wrong" in verse 3 is actually a distinction not between two ways of responding to government authority (as a straight­forward reading obviously suggests), but between two types of government, and that only the type that does "good" has "legitimate authority" [S6:39; but cf. 43-46,91-92]. Foreman likewise claims that "Paul limits the legitimate authority of government to doing good" [F2:19n; see also 65,76n,132], and Ellul assumes this passage refers only "to obedience to a just law" [E2:124], since "an unjust law before God is a law without authori­ty" [129; cf. p.77n above].

        This common line of interpretation requires us to read presuppositions into Paul's text that simply are not there. For, although Paul in Romans 13 does not go into detail to explain just how far we are to go in submitting to an evil political authority, his whole point is to assure us that a person with "good behavior" will have no need to fear worldly rulers [Rom. 13:3]. And if we recall the political setting in which these words were written, it seems hardly likely that Paul was thinking primarily of friendly governments! Stackhouse therefore offers a more moderate interpretation [S5:18]: "the New Testament gave divine authority for the institution of government in general, not for any ruler in particular", so Romans 13:1-7 "refers to authority in general and not to the per­sons exercising the authority." Although there is some biblical basis for the idea that not all political powers are authorized by God [see e.g., Ps. 107:40; Hos. 8:4], Stack­house misses the cutting edge of this passage by not recognizing its call to a submissive, sacrificial response to such evil rulers.

        Yoder offers the best interpretation of this passage in Y1:193-214, emphasizing that

 

verse 1 does not require us to obey, but only to submit to the government's authority. Accordingly, if the law of the land conflicts with the Law of love (which Paul immedi­ately goes on to describe in verses 8-10), such as by asking us to harm our neighbor [cf. 13:10], then we are to disobey, yet willingly accept the penalty without protest [Y1: 212; see also T4:210]. This seems to have been Paul's own attitude [see e.g., Ac. 25:11]; and his even­tual execution was presumably a direct result of his willingness to disobey the authorities when necessary, but still submit to their unjust penalties [E4:90].Far from excluding evil governments, Romans 13 should therefore be interpreted as a "call...to a nonresistant attitude toward a tyrannical government" [Y1:104; see below, pp.124n,129n,136-137]. (For an excellent discussion of the general theme of submission to authority in the New Testament, see Y1:163-192.)

        Properly interpreted, this passage therefore "equally rejects both legitimism of the [worldly political systems] and revolution against them" [E1:121; see also 196-204 and p.74n above]. Using 1 Samuel 8 as a guide, Eller interprets Paul's reference to God "instituting" the government [Rom. 13:1] as meaning "accepting it, not approving it" [200].This is a very helpful suggestion. For Israel's history repeatedly shows God setting up worldly political systems even though they are utterly evil [see Hab. 1:6 and p.106n below]. It is as if God says: "I prefer you to live by my rule; but since you reject theocracy, here, have this"-then he gives us the scourge of worldly politics [cf. Rom. 12:19].

 

[14]    1 Pet. 2:18-19. Ellul conveniently neglects these key verses in his attempt to interpret this passage as support for his belief in the fundamental invalidity of all political power before God. He constructs an ingenious argument, based on the fact that the Roman emperors during this period were never regarded as "king" (basileus), but rather as "principate" (princeps). Ellul conjectures that the king referred to in 1 Peter 2:13 could have been the king of the rival Parthian empire, thus implying that the passage covertly supports subversion of the Roman state! This wild hypothesis renders the verses quoted here totally inexplicable. A far more plausible explanation is that, just as when the word "king" is used elsewhere in the New Testament [see E4:82], the writer is not thinking specifically of the Roman emperor, but is referring in a general way to any supreme ruler. In addition, his usage might illustrate his disinterestedness in the conventions of the day. It would be no more unlikely, for example, to hear an ill-informed American theocrat today urge his or her fellow theocrats in Britain to submit to their "President".

[15]    Ellul rejects this assumption, interpreting John19:11 as a reference to the evil source of Pilate's power [E4:68-69]. He insists that the traditional interpretation renders incomprehensible the second half of the verse: "for this reason he who delivered me up to you has the greater sin." Ellul boldly "def[ies] anyone to explain what is meant" by this statement, if Pilate's authority is assumed to come from God. If, on the other hand, Pilate's authority (being political) is fundamentally rooted in evil, then the only thing worse than wielding such power would be to commit a good person into its hands.

        Meeting this challenge in terms of biblical theocracy is not difficult. In spite of his opposition to Pilate, Judas, being a Zealot, would have shared with Pilate a firm belief in the possibility of accomplishing good through implementing worldly politics. He probably thought his betrayal would force Jesus into organizing a more active resistance against the Roman authorities (which is why he hanged himself when his hopes were dashed by Jesus' death [Mat. 27:5]). Judas is more guilty because, unlike Pilate, he had been trained in Jesus' theocratic principles, yet still resorted to worldly methods, whereas Pilate, unlike Judas, was merely carrying out his God-given task. Pilate's response to Jesus' statement-trying to secure Jesus' re­lease [Jn. 19:12]-shows beyond reasonable doubt that he took these words not as the radical condemnation Ellul believes them to be, but as words of support: as was typical of Jesus' entire ministry, he is here proclaiming for­giveness to the one who is innocently trapped into doing evil, and condemnation to the one who causes the injustice by presuming to take God's rule into his own hands.

[16]    The requirement that disciples leave their home situation is clearly stated in Matthew 10:34-39. And Hebrews 11:8-10 provides a good example by explaining how Abraham's initial demonstration of faith was his willingness to leave his home country, "even though he did not know where he was going." We then read that such heroes all demon­strate the depth of their faith precisely in their attitude of non-attachment to their own country [11:13-16].

 

[17]      See e.g., Eph. 6:10-20; E1:42-47; Y1:240-244. Eller points out that, although political symbolism (especially battle imagery) is used extensively in Revelation, the book never describes an actual battle: evil power simply becomes powerless before God; it "collapses under the weight of its own evil" [E1:45; see e.g., Rev. 14:8; 17:1-18:24]. "Consistently, John shows God's victory for the world as taking place without any assistance from our holy human arky [i.e., political] efforts" [46].

 

[18]      Stackhouse comes close to recognizing the importance of this principle when he says in S5:114: "The serving Church will...serve because it will not seek power for itself. Yet it will be the Church of God and not a civil department of religion because it will show that all power is from God and is used rightly only when it serves his will." Unfortunately, the first example of how the church can put into practice this principle of servanthood is to set up "Christian political parties"! His other suggestions are equally misconstrued if taken as viable methods of putting into practice any distinctively "Christian" politics: aside from political parties, Stackhouse recommends official church proclamations, lobbying, participating in local government, church-sponsored political rallies, voting, keeping informed on current political issues, organizing politically-oriented fellowship groups, and running for public office [114-130]. These common tools of human politics certainly have their proper place. And I have no doubt that a wise use of them can be laudable in certain instances. But to equate the distinctively Christian political message merely with the affirmation of such means is the very an­tithesis of this basic principle of biblical theocracy [see above, pp.52-59].

            The paradoxical maxim that the best way to live is to be willing to die is a central aspect not only of the Christian message, but also of Socrates' account of what it means to be a philosopher [see, e.g., P7:28-29(14-15),38-41(23-25)]. Similarly, Wittgenstein recognizes in the last few paragraphs of W2 that linguistic philosophers must in a sense "transcend" (cf. die to) both language and philosophy in order to "see the world aright" [section 6.54]. Thus his conclusion in section 7 ("What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence") offers an alternative to the sin committed by the people of the city of Babel (language), who tried to use a human political system as a means to reach God. In other words, even human language must die to itself before we can hear God's Word [cf. p.37n above].

        If human language is used to describe the theocratic vision, the alternative to silence is to employ "synthetic" logic (i.e., the logic of paradox), as I have done in referring to theocracy as a "non-political political system". Synthetic logic, as I have explained in P3, rejects the principle of traditional, analytic logic (A is not -A) and bases statements on the principle of intentional contradiction (A is -A). Self-contradictory statements have been used on countless occasions, especially in religious and philoso­phical writings all over the world, not to confuse readers, but to encourage them to gain deeper insight into their own ignorance. St. Augustine gives a typical example in Book I, paragraph 4 of A4, when he describes God as "unchangeable yet all-changing; never new, never old;...ever working, ever at rest; still gathering, yet nothing lacking;...seeking, yet having all things." Analytic logic speaks to the mind; synthetic logic speaks to the heart.

 

[19]    The Old Testament often stresses the importance of the ruler being a person "who rules over men righteously"; but this always means "who rules in the fear of God" [2 Sam. 23:3], which goes hand in hand with biblical theocracy [see below, Chapter Six].

[20]    The second of these imperatives was discussed earlier in this chapter. The first will be treated in Chapter Six and the third in Chapter Seven. Tinder expresses the first two imperatives in terms of the need to wait in expectant, attentive solitude for God to act in history [T4:68-69]. Such waiting, he explains, is "prefatory to communication and ac­tion, not a way of avoiding them" [70]. Hence spirituality must be regarded as an integral part of any proper conception of Christian political action [197-234]. This helps clarify why theocracy relates primarily to individuals, who acknowledge their weak­ness before God as they enter into relationship with other individuals, rather than to the societies, institutions, governments, or even churches, which arise out of such relationships. Tinder calls this theocratic way of life "the prophetic stance" [see e.g., 8-9,15,26-35,53-54], and insists that it requires us to adopt "a disposition to attack concrete, visible injustices" [66], even though we are ultimately incapable of implementing "perfect justice" [61-68].

 

[21]    Having myself benefitted considerably from nationalized health and welfare programs, especially while living in England as a poor foreign student, I would be the first to admit that they can be enormously helpful for certain individuals in certain situations. My point here is not that such programs are all necessarily bad, but that they are not Christian, and that they almost inevitably result in individuals taking less responsibility for their neighbors. Far more meaningful than the help I received from the government was the "angel" who used to bring my family bags of groceries and leave them on our doorstep. And I have no doubt that our friends would have offered far more expressions of such Christian welfare had we not been "cared for" so well by the government. We are all too easily lulled (e.g., by "theocratic" socialists [M4:110]) into thinking that paying the taxes that support such programs fulfills our responsibilities to our neighbors; yet, as Ellul puts it in E4:40, "God's commandments are always addressed to individuals."

         Stackhouse is a good example of someone who defends from a Christian perspective the legitimacy of state-run welfare programs of all sorts [S5:49-66]. For example, he praises modern insurance programs for their power to "remove-or at the least, diminish -the anxiety which at one time scourged the minds of the majority", providing us with "a greater peace than [we] could have otherwise" [51]. Through these, and other similarly "creative" programs, he argues, the modern state now "has power to preserve life as well as to take it away" [50]! To be fair to Stackhouse, he does admit that, instead of commending a "welfare state", the Bible extols something like a "welfare church" (e.g., in Romans 12, which comes, significantly enough, immediately before Paul's comments on government in 13:1-4) [S5:21-24]. Nevertheless, his naive defense of the demonic myth of modern politics wholly neglects the fact that, although a measure of goodness (or, as I prefer to call it, "benefit") undoubtedly does come from such state programs, their benefits never come without incurring a far greater spiritual cost. The idolatry implicit in assuming that the state's laws, programs, or policies can ever bring peace and safety to mankind is well described by Foreman in F2:67-76.

 

[22]    On the contrary, as Bonhoeffer points out [B2:94], the reaction of the disciples to Jesus' claim that "it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven..." [Mat. 19:23-26] reveals that they counted themselves as among the rich. Although they were not poor, it should be noted that they were "uneducated and untrained" in the world's eyes [Ac. 4:13; cf. 1 Cor. 1:27-31].

 

[23]    Socrates, who believed he was "sent to this city as a gift from God" [P7:31-32(17)], evinces his acceptance of this theocratic way of life by referring to his willingness to live in "poverty". He then suggests: "The true champion of justice...must necessarily confine himself to private life and leave politics alone."

[24]    Aristotle's conception of democracy as a political system that rules by giving advantage to the poor [see above, p.14] initially appears to be fully consistent with this biblical notion of God's bias for the poor. Yet the Bible never portrays God's bias for the poor as a straightforward model for our attitude to others; on the contrary, "you shall not be partial to the poor nor defer to the great" [Lev. 19:15; see also Deut. 1:17]. Moreover, in a democracy the poor seize political power as a right, whereas in a theocracy the rich willingly take up the position of poverty as a vocation from God: "let the brother of humble circumstances glory in his high position; and let the rich man glory in his humiliation" [Jas. 1:9-10]! "The kingdom of God begins in this world with the poor", as Moltmann puts it in M7:42-43, "not in the 'beyond' but in the appearance of the Son of Man among the neglected.... The rich do not save the poor, the poor save the rich."

[25]    This is one of the points at which my interpretation of biblical theocracy parts com­pany with Ellul's interpretation of biblical anarchy [E4:8]: "This is the true essence of anarchism: To become a human being, yes, but a politician, never." Of course, if the word "politician" refers not merely to a neutral profession, but to a person who plays the games of worldly politics, then I would fully agree with Ellul. But Ellul goes further by suggesting that the politician's very vocation is neces­sarily corrupt, thus ignoring the fact that Samuel could refer to the Lord's anointed king as "a man after [God's] own heart" [1 Sam. 13:14; see also Ps. 89:20-21; Ac. 7:46; 13:22]. I will suggest, by con­trast, that the Bible does offer guidelines for how to be a Christian politician with integrity-though as Luther recognized, "it is rare and difficult" [H3:109; see 108-111].

 

[26]    The same holds true, incidentally, for philosophy. The person who becomes a philosopher out of a desire to be wise and to grasp wisdom will develop a philosophy which (despite good intentions) will become an instrument for promoting confusion and error. Yet, just as biblical theocracy requires us to recognize our poverty, so also philos­ophy, when it is treated as a theocratic vocation, requires us to recognize the extent of our ignorance [see e.g., P7:22-23(8-9)].

 

[27]    Eller rightly stresses the importance of God's "empowerment" for those entering the political arena as a profession, warning of the danger of thinking too highly of the importance of one's political accomplishments; for, as soon as the theocratic politician (or the "anarchist", as he puts it) "starts 'believing' in what he is doing, he is done for" [E1:15]. He cites two good examples of theocratic politicians: Blumhardt and Ellul, both of whom suffered for their attempts to put into practice the principles of theocratic politics [14-15]. Unfortunately, the political relevance of Eller's theology of "Christian anarchy" is called into question when he slips into the "two kingdoms" ap­proach [see above, pp.34,62n], arguing for one chapter that theology and politics must be seen as two completely separate realms that ought not to be mixed [169-193]. "Theology is to be judged theologically and politics politically" [179], so all the vices of worldly politics can be regarded as acceptable "for politics". Just as a Christian physicist will do physics in the same way as a non-Christian physicist, so also, he argues, will a Christian politi­cian be virtually indistinguishable from any other well-meaning politician when speak­ing "as a politician". "The limits of discourse must be respected: when doing theology one must speak of God; when doing politics one must not speak of God" [183].

        I must confess to be unable to see how this chapter of Eller's otherwise insightful book fits in with the rest of his argument. Perhaps such a clear-cut distinction would be valid for physics and the other natural sciences (though even this is debatable); but when it comes to politics and the social sciences, the relationship between one's religious and professional commitments simply cannot be as extrinsic as Eller makes it out to be. There is-or at least, should be-a world of difference between a theocratic lawyer and a non-theocratic lawyer, a theocratic doctor and a non-theocratic doctor, a theocratic priest and a non-theocratic priest, etc. For a politician to say "Theologically I am a 'Christian anarchist', but politically I operate just like my Republican colleagues" would be to con­fess the total irrelevance of his or her religious commitment. It would tantamount to a philosopher who says "Theologically I am a believer, but philosophically I think and act just like my atheist colleagues." As argued above [see pp.34-36], biblical theoc­racy regards the mystery of God's rule as permeating every aspect of our life.

 

[28]       Whenever given the chance to vote, we should keep these principles of theocratic leadership firmly in mind. Thus, for example, theocrats should never vote on the basis of the candidates' views on a single issue, or even on a set of "special interests". Nor should we assume that a candidate's confession (or rejection) of the Christian faith necessarily implies a commitment to (or a denial of) theocratic politics. Instead, we should regard our vote as an opportunity to show Christ-like, disapproving non-attachment to the democratic political system. I believe the best way to do this is not to abstain from voting (thus sending the message "I simply don't care"), but rather to vote for someone who is almost certain to lose (as will always be the case with a theocratic candidate-if such there be). Let nobody convince us that this is a "wasted vote". To vote for a good loser is to vote wisely. To vote for a poor winner just because he or she is more likely to win is not only to waste a vote, but also to share in the responsibility for that candidate's bad governing. Likewise, when it comes to voting on specific laws or propositions, our vote should be based not on the democratic ideal ("Which option is best for me?"), but rather on the theocratic ideal ("Which option is most likely to weaken the existing political system, to put a 'crack' in it, through which the light of God's rule might shine?").

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

Send comments to the author: StevePq@hkbu.edu.hk

 

Back to the Table of Contents for this book.

 

Back to the listing of Steve Palmquist's published books.

 

Back to the main map of Steve Palmquist's web site.

 

Click Here!