Conventional wisdom holds that religion and politics don’t mix—particularly at a dinner party. I remember my mother trying to impress this truth upon me as a young boy. The neighbors were coming over; and just before they arrived, she carefully coached me on “safe” topics for the dinner table. The bottom-line was to avoid religion and politics altogether.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because they don’t make for pleasant conversation,” she responded.
Looking back, I realize that she was probably right. After all, getting into a heated argument doesn’t usually result in a very pleasant evening with the neighbors.
But if we are serious in our claim that God cares about how we live with one another, then it seems to me that there are times when religion and politics need to mix—or at least enter into the conversation (no matter how unpleasant it may become).
To be sure, the two have different agendas. It is one thing to say, along with the prophet, “Let justice roll down like mighty waters,” and quite another to work out the details of the irrigation system. The former is a religious concern; the latter a political task.
It is also true, as the Book of Ecclesiastes so aptly puts it, that “there is a time to speak, and a time to keep silent.” I am not advocating that the church enter into every political debate. And I’m certainly not suggesting that we start dictating how Christians should vote. The pulpit is not a campaign stump!
However, if the church excuses itself from the political dialogue of the culture completely, and becomes mute on the very matters that often impact people’s lives the most, then we shouldn’t be surprised that those same people will eventually come to regard the church as irrelevant and out-of-touch.
As South African bishop Desmond Tutu once said, “When the elephant has its foot on the tail of the mouse, and you say that you have no opinion and wish to remain neutral, the mouse is not likely to turn to you the next time it has a pressing need!”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because they don’t make for pleasant conversation,” she responded.
Looking back, I realize that she was probably right. After all, getting into a heated argument doesn’t usually result in a very pleasant evening with the neighbors.
But if we are serious in our claim that God cares about how we live with one another, then it seems to me that there are times when religion and politics need to mix—or at least enter into the conversation (no matter how unpleasant it may become).
To be sure, the two have different agendas. It is one thing to say, along with the prophet, “Let justice roll down like mighty waters,” and quite another to work out the details of the irrigation system. The former is a religious concern; the latter a political task.
It is also true, as the Book of Ecclesiastes so aptly puts it, that “there is a time to speak, and a time to keep silent.” I am not advocating that the church enter into every political debate. And I’m certainly not suggesting that we start dictating how Christians should vote. The pulpit is not a campaign stump!
However, if the church excuses itself from the political dialogue of the culture completely, and becomes mute on the very matters that often impact people’s lives the most, then we shouldn’t be surprised that those same people will eventually come to regard the church as irrelevant and out-of-touch.
As South African bishop Desmond Tutu once said, “When the elephant has its foot on the tail of the mouse, and you say that you have no opinion and wish to remain neutral, the mouse is not likely to turn to you the next time it has a pressing need!”
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