Response to a Friend’s Political Question

So many of us can relate to the situation and challenge below. Keep reading until the end and ponder the two different “ditches” we fall into. This is a response by Dave Beach, a pastor I think, to his friend’s political question. Posted on Scot McKnight’s Substack:

Friend: Good morning!

Hey, I’m wondering if I can take advantage of our friendship & ask for your thoughts on an issue that others would pay you for. Actually, I would be happy to pay you. It’s regarding politics & Christians.

Me: Yes, of course. I wouldn’t consider it taking any advantage but enjoying the benefits.

Ask away.

Friend: In a nutshell, I have a beautiful, kind, loving friend with a strong Christian faith who thinks JD Vance is a “good Christian man” after his speech about migrants that referred to “ordo amoris.” When I first read her comment, I truly felt nauseous and light-headed. Then, I read the Pope’s response.

I know she’s not the only Christian/Catholic friend I have who voted for Trump, but she is my closest friend and such a loving person that it bothers me the most. HOW CAN PEOPLE WHO PROFESS TO BE CHRISTIAN think that all the stuff that is going on is ok???? Sometimes, I feel like I live in an alternate universe (and I get that they probably think, “How can she think…”). My friend even said she would drive by my house, see my Biden or Harris signs & think, “What is she thinking?” But she said she knew I was thinking the same about her.

I guess my question is, how do I organize this in my head? I’m ok with losing some friends, but what about this other woman that I have often looked to as a role model as a Christian?

Me: Great question and such a pressing issue these days.

Several things come to mind with your question, “What about this other?” –a close friend, a loving person who professes Christianity as her Creed/Confession?

The first thing that came to mind was my father, who believed in loyalty—loyalty to a creed, loyalty to a denomination, and, unfortunately, loyalty to the Republican party. He watched Fox News, read NewsMax, voted straight ticket, and was willingly blind to the flaws and faults of Reagan, Bush, and, in his unfortunate turn, Trump. There were no dialogues with my father, only monologues, diatribes against “the Left,” the “Liberals,” and he would parrot all the derogations and dog whistles of the partisan pundits who shamelessly trained the vocabulary of unthinking followers.

Somewhere in my 30s, I realized how different I was from my father and millions of others like him. I stopped talking about politics with them; it seemed fruitless and pointless. I hadn’t yet found my own tribe, but I hoped there would be a group of compassionate people capable of dialogue, even vigorous debate, without destructive and derogatory rhetoric. I’m still looking.

Another thing that comes to mind is the mistakes in religious history in understanding the implications of the God of the Bible—both testaments. Unfortunately, many Christians do not comprehend Judaism and, therefore, misunderstand Jesus. The Old Testament provides the context for the “New” commandments of Jesus, specifically the Ten Commandments and ethical guidelines of Jewish law. The OT law is where we first encounter “love your neighbor.” However, not only were the Israelites commanded to love their “neighbor” (an abstract term which in its interpretation led to notions of hierarchy, justifying the “chosen”-ness of Jews, Augustine’s “ordo amoris” in The City of God, et al.), but they were also to love the foreigners as their own selves (also found in the OT Law and the prophets).

Christian history is littered with disobedience and even defiance of these laws, which always resulted in judgments, even though a compassionate and loving God seemed to tolerate for generations blatant disregard of these laws, particularly those demanding social justice.

In my opinion, our generation is witnessing yet another dangerous turn away from these moral and ethical guidelines and finding justification for much evil perpetrated against women, orphans, the poor, and the disenfranchised around the world, and, what seems worse, a bold assertion of arrogant exceptionalism—a claim not unlike that of the Jerusalem/Temple elite in Jeremiah’s day that resulted in God permitting Nebuchadnezzar to destroy Solomon’s Temple and turn Jerusalem into a pile of ashes and rubble.

I’m not saying I think Washington is a present-day parallel to Jerusalem or the Whitehouse to Solomon’s Temple. (The God of the Bible has made no covenant with America nor any of its presidents.). I just don’t think I should be surprised to find exceptionalist religions (Nationalism in any form, including, or perhaps especially, Christian).

I don’t think I should be surprised, but I am. And I am profoundly sad that my friends and family, my father included, have been duped by the same kinds of political persuasions that killed the prophets of old and all through Christian history have scapegoated the “infidels,” the “unbelievers,” the “not-like-us-but-among-us.” In my opinion, Trump and his minions are woefully unoriginal, uninteresting, and “know not what they do.”

What also comes to mind is my own complicity in not insisting on dialogue with my father, choosing rather a reclusive and private life pursuing my interests and speaking up only when asked, and even then, in cautious and calculating ways so as, somehow, to respect the rights of others to be equally unoriginal, uninteresting, and, frankly, ignorant.

Like a path with ditches on both sides, I fear I am also falling in a ditch, not of political fusion with the exceptionalists, however tempting it is. Still, I am in a similar ditch on the other side of the path, one of relational and political cutoff, much like a divorce.

The challenge I feel is that of living in differentiation, that 400-level adulting practice of walking together with my family and friends through these polarizing and difficult conversations while falling into neither the ditch of “fusion” nor the ditch of “cutoff.” In my opinion, both are signs of immaturity and tribalism.

So, how do I see your challenge in relating to your close friend? I see it as a difficult challenge to remain differentiated without arrogance, without hypocrisy but instead with humility, curiosity, and forbearance.

And with that, I shall end my long epistle. Grace and peace to you, my good friend.

With love and friendship,

Dave

Friend: Thanks for your thought-provoking and insightful answer and for taking the time to respond.

It is indeed a challenge, a sad one, a hard one, where I must learn new skills and pray for fortitude.

Jeremy L. Berg

Pastor. Professor. Author. Musician.