Written by: gfesadmin on March 14, 2013

I live in Spain.  The church, and by extension Christianity has for many centuries been in a position of power and influence.  In the modern age, this power became toxic.  The church sided with the economic elite, the crown, and the powerful, often against the interests of religious freedom, freedom of speech, democracy, and the rights of the poor during the many years of political and social upheaval.  This all came to an apex during the horrific Spanish Civil War, when the church sided with the fascist ascension of the dictator General Francisco Franco, who would go on to rule Spain under an iron grip for some 40 years.  There is no way to avoid the obvious here, the church completely failed in its calling, and became an instrument of violence and oppression.  The current fall out of this failure has been catastrophic, as people have fled the church in droves since the 1980’s making a country which was once 99% Catholic, now only 20% practicing Catholic.  A recent conversation with a friend sums it all up: “people have rejected the church, because the church is a symbol of oppression and dictatorship.”

It is from this perspective that I am often amused by the consistent claims of “Christendom” and “church-state” accommodation from both Christian and non-Christian perspectives alike in the USA.  President Bush has become a particular target of the ire of many, and with good cause.  While, I don’t wish to become a political apologist at all in this post, I do wish to point out what to me often feels like so much pointless self-absorbed whining.  While Bush certainly made some significant mistakes in managing one of the most difficult jobs in the world, he also with a stroke of an evangelical, compassionate pen saved millions of people’s lives with his impetus to enact the largest US aid action with respects to AIDS and Africa.  The facts of history often fail to fall neatly into our narratives.  So what are we to make of all this? 

If anything, James Davidson Hunter in To Change The World: The Irony, Tragedy, and of Possibility of Christianity in the Late Modern World begins to unpack the issues that arise from a realistic appraisal of Spanish and American Christianity, and everything in between.  Hunter makes the case that the prevalent American movements with respects to politics (conservative, progressive, and neo-Anabaptist) are all faulty in their ontological premises, and thus are simply spinning their wheels in respects to actually “changing the culture.”  Hunter goes on to develop a more robust definition of culture and how historically it is truly transformed and affected, while at the same time showing that politics is not a historically proven method for enacting Christian transformation of culture. Specifically, the state is not truly subject to the will of the democratic electorate, and that rarely are there “political solutions to the problems most people care about.”  This feels instantly true, as a historical observer of politics from the American experiment I rarely see that politics essentially and completely makes exacting change.  History, culture, and society are much too complex. From here, Hunter explains that all of American Christianity has essentially fully opted for politics as the most important form of public engagement.  In a sense, all of American Christianity (even those who attempt to extricate themselves from it) is locked in a political dialectic. 

One need only watch American television, or peruse through the evangelical blogosphere to find out how politicized the Christian world has become.  One will find the full scope of nihilistic negation (Rush Limbaugh and Ann Coulter spring to mind) in conservative voices castigating the Obama administration and progressive voices castigating those who castigate.  Yet, all are locked in political discourse, and ultimately a will to power and dominance.  What is ultimately amazing is how “evangelical” in their political and theological discourse the progressive and neo-Anabaptist perspective has become, while at the same time, claiming to have moved beyond conservative evangelicalism. 

This is where Hunter steps in with the real weight of his work.  He argues for a post-political stance for the church.  He hopes for an expression of Christianity that has a realistic perspective of power and also seeks to disentangle itself from the ontological politicization of America.  Power cannot be avoided.  It is essential to human experience and relationship, but by following a Christological theology of power, there might be hope.  Jesus had power, and as such, power is not necessarily bad, but as humans (and sinful at that) we will always fail in our application of power, just as I as a father am given power, but often fail in my use of it with my own children, who I deeply love.  Therefore, true grace and forgiveness are necessary.  Hunter then makes the bold statement in full opposition to our postmodern world reeking of ressentiment : “The question for the church, then, is not about choosing between power and powerlessness but rather, to the extent that it has space to do so, how will the church and its people use the power that they have.”

The answer is of course Jesus, no matter how much our world screams that it must be a squirrel.*

Is it possible that Hunter offers a true way forward between the confusion of Catholic Spain and compassionate George Bush?

How can we model a Christ like use of power?

*Sunday School Teacher: I am thinking of an animal with a bushy tail, and he lives in a tree.

Class: Silence

SS Teacher: Come on.  You know this.  It is a small, furry animal.  It eats nuts, and likes to jump around from tree to tree.

Class: Silence

SS Teacher: This is easy, it’s a mammal, and it starts with an “S.”

Brave Sunday School Student: Well, I know the answer is Jesus, but it really sounds like you are talking about a squirrel.

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