God and politics is one of the themes of Andrew Sullivan’s “Crisis in Christianity.” For my taste, he pushes a bit too hard for a faith that runs the danger of being “privatized,” that is, kept to one self rather than brought out into the open of public discourse.
For example, when addressing the occasional engagement of Christianity in politics, Sullivan suggests that the church filter the God-talk out of the discussion.
When politics is necessary, as it is, the kind of Christianity I am describing seeks always to translate religious truths into reasoned, secular arguments that can appeal to those of other faiths and none at all. But it also means, at times, renouncing Caesar in favor of the Christ to whom Jefferson, Francis, my grandmother, and countless generations of believers have selflessly devoted themselves.
This seems naïve. How do you contend for a public policy rooted in a transcendent reality without the language of faith? Part of the broader crisis of our time is the failure of the public sphere to grant a place for conversation that acknowledges the possibility of a divine presence. The default, acceptable world view becomes a materialistic atheism, with politics devolving into a scramble of how to divide up the pie. After all, there is nothing else out there. Presumably.
Lots of people, Muslims, Jews, Christians, et. al., say that’s a bad presumption. I don’t think it is possible to always translate “religious truths into reasoned, secular arguments.”
Let’s try one. “God is love.” Okay. Let’s see, “Transcendent reality is good, personal, and to be trusted.” Does that work? It’s not very warm. It makes my head hurt a little bit. And, frankly, I don’t think it will make it through the filter of the secular pluralists Sullivan is asking us to appease.
Sometimes the conversation needs to be frank, honest and hard. The only way I know to maneuver through that successfully is, well, by being anchored in that simple Truth, God is love.
Kyle








