Gideon Strauss

Gideon Strauss, Alvin Taveras

Alvin Taveras is a new CPJ friend - this past summer he interned with Jim Skillen and took part in our Civitas summer school. Two other 2009 Civitas participants drove down from Princeton and Philadelphia with Alvin for the Kuyper Lecture, Drew Harmon and Philip Ney - I’ll have to see if I can track down photos of them at the event.

Art Simon, Jim Skillen

Art Simon, founder and president emeritus of Bread for the World, has been a friend of Jim’s and of the Center’s for a long time. I remember reading him on poverty and hunger, and the call to Christians to address these blights, as a freshly converted believer in my teens. It is such a privilege that the Center enjoys the encouragement and support of pioneers like the Rev. Simon.

Gideon Strauss, John Hulst

If Alvin Taveras represents the newest friends of CPJ, John Hulst represents those who have been our friends since the very beginning. President emeritus of Dordt College, Dr. Hulst was not only involved in CPJ’s predecessor organizations, he continues to be involved, and next week will be my host at a CPJ event in Pella, Iowa! (In this picture I think I was saying something about the great hopes I have for CPJ, even though it is by every organizational measure mustard-seed-tiny for now.)

Nyack College’s Institute for Public Service & Policy Development co-hosted this year’s Kuyper Lecture with us.

Richard Gathro, Clarke Cochran, Jim Skillen

Nyack’s Dean in DC, Richard Gathro, was a generous and hospitable host. I look forward to future collaborations with the Dr. Gathro and the Institute.

Charity Haubrich, Jacqueline Scott

I was surprised and delighted to find a friend, Charity Haubrich, working for Dr. Gathro and helping with the Kuyper Lecture logistics.

Dr. Clarke Cochran did a marvelous job of this year’s Kuyper Lecture, explaining the entanglement of cultural forces, institutional contingencies, and health care expectations that has brought about the current crisis in American health care.

My beloved wife, Angela, accompanied me to the lecture, and if you look at the sidebar to our Kuyper Lecture page, three pictures down, you’ll see her between me and John Hulst (one of the founding fathers of CPJ).

I am visiting Dordt College in Sioux Center, Iowa, and enjoying it immensely. As I talk with students, faculty, and staff, I am realizing that students who graduate from Dordt enjoy a significant advantage: yes, Dordt is far from the culture making hubs of the world, but here in this greenhouse environment students enjoy a community in which their character is being formed as citizens of the kingdom of God, so that when they are transplanted out into the post-college world they have strong roots and can flourish. At Dordt students breath the atmosphere of the Spirit, are rooted in the soil of the people of God, are watered with the gospel.

No wonder, really, that the Center for Public Justice has its historical roots in the same Siouxland countryside as does Dordt. And no wonder that CPJ and Dordt share a vision of equipping the people of God to be citizens of the kingdom of heaven … and therefore graceful citizens of this American republic, seeking the common good because of our knowledge of God’s common grace.

Yesterday I enjoyed giving an address on “Silly walks need no justification” (Monty Python meets Hans Rookmaaker), engaging two of Dr. Don King’s politics classes in conversation, having lunch and dinner (a very fine dinner!) with students, faculty and staff, and giving a public lecture (with several long-time CPJ suppporters and the chair of our board, Harold Heie, in the audience) on “Graceful citizenship.”

Today I have wall-to-wall appointments for conversation with individual Dordt people, as well as a radio interview with President Carl Zylstra and a conversation with Jason Lief and Barb Hoekstra’s Gen 300 capstone class.

I am beginning to wonder how to track down the Dordt diaspora of students across America, and how to connect the gifts they have received on this campus with the needs of people elsewhere seeking to live as citizens of the kingdom of God, but lacking a similarly deep learning … ?

“Let princes hear and be afraid.”

I still remember the cold thrill with which I read chapter 20 in John Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion on train rides toward downtown Cape Town in 1989.

Dissatisfied with passive resistance against apartheid, uncertain that I had an understanding of political life that was both faithful to the teachings of the Bible and adequate for making sense of the tasks of government after apartheid, and unaware of the tectonic shifts already taking place below the surface of South African politics — shifts that were to bring about a quake of change the following year — I had been reading backwards from a book that had opened up fresh possibilities for me, Bob Goudzwaard’s Idols of our time. Goudzwaard made Christian sense of the political situation in which I found myself, and I wanted to understand where he came from. So I read those that influenced him, slowly making my way backwards into history: Herman Dooyeweerd, Abraham Kuyper, Guillaume Groen Van Prinsterer, Johannes Althusius, a slight detour to Samuel Rutherford, and then, John Calvin.

I think I can date my grafting into this tradition — going beyond ambivalent interest, joining the tribe — to the morning that I read these sentences very near the end of the Institutes (in the Beveridge translation):

When popular magistrates have been appointed to curb the tyranny of kings … so far am I from forbidding these officially to check the undue license of kings, that if they connive at kings when they tyrannise and insult over the humbler of the people, I affirm that their dissimulation is not free from nefarious perfidy, because they fraudulently betray the liberty of the people, while knowing that, by the ordinance of God, they are its appointed guardians.

But in that obedience which we hold to be due to the commands of rulers, we must always make the exception, nay, must be particularly careful that it is not incompatible with obedience to Him to whose will the wishes of kings should be subject, to whose decrees their commands must yield, to whose majesty their sceptres must bow. And, indeed, how preposterous were it, in pleasing men, to incur the offence of Him for whose sake you obey men! The Lord, therefore, is King of kings. When he opens his sacred mouth, he alone is to be heard, instead of all and above all. We are subject to the men who rule over us, but subject only in the Lord. If they command anything against Him let us not pay the least regard to it, nor be moved by all the dignity which they possess as magistrates — a dignity to which no injury is done when it is subordinated to the special and truly supreme power of God.

(I prefer the Ford Lewis Battles translation, which I discovered ten years later when studying with J.I. Packer at Regent College. It translates the first of the sentences above in this more imaginatively compelling way: “I am so far from forbidding them to withstand, in accordance with their duty, the fierce licentiousness of kings, that, if they wink at kings who violently fall upon and assault the lowly common folk, I declare that their dissimulation involves nefarious perfidy, because they dishonestly betray the freedom of the people, of which they know that they have been appointed protectors by God’s ordinance.”)

The work of John Calvin changed cultures in ways that go far deeper than politics — and influenced my own life, eventually, in ways that go far deeper — but my first debt to Calvin is a political debt: he wedged open anew a way for Christians to understand that political authority is relative, and that there are times when tyrants must be resisted, and centuries later I, too, could slip through that wedged opening, with deep gratitude.

Wes Balda, Executive Director of the Centre for Advancing International Management and Professor of Management at St. George’s University, and a regular contributor with his wife Janis to Comment magazine, writes in response to my question “What do American evangelicals need most, today, to help us discern our political responsibilities?”:

In the sixties and seventies, with people like Sojourners, Ron Sider and Mark Hatfield speaking to our possibilities, I believed that we evangelicals stood poised to challenge the principalities and powers. It didn’t seem to happen, quite. The decades came and went and we’re in a different place. We may need many things to discern, and act on, political responsibility. Here are a few:
Freedom from fear: Shortly after the U.S. election, bumper stickers appeared announcing the “Obama-nation.” Sadly, several bumpers sported adjacent Christian messages; stereotypically, these could often be found on large, gas-guzzling SUVs. (Not sure if there’s a connection there.) A growing number of conversations reflected anxiety over loss of portfolio value or the future cost of healthcare for retirees, and some even tended toward survivalist themes. None of the participants in exchanges I overheard appeared poor. In fact, quite a bit of wealth was represented. Is it possible that a correlation between wealth and fear sabotages evangelical action? (Maybe something comes to mind here about camels and needles?)
“Fair and balanced” discernment of political responsibilities is hard if we’re afraid.
A re-imagined identity: “Evangelical” clearly carries new stigmas. The term may be unraveling and retrenching at the same time. It is a code word with an evolved meaning that has changed, and, frankly, some would say that it has been hijacked. Three scenarios are possible now: 1) do nothing and ride with the popular current, or, 2) reclaim the term, restoring a spirit of engagement in its meaning, or, 2) find a new term, phasing and framing its introduction carefully. The first works for the fear faction, the second will be a dubious uphill battle, and the third is a monumental task to coordinate and manage.
Squirming former “evangelicals” are trying on tags like “Christ-followers” or “apprentices of Jesus” (thanks to Dallas Willard here), in representing themselves to those outside the fold. Some labels make starting the conversation hard. Even “Christian” draws dividing lines in some places. A new, counter-intuitive strategy is needed. Perhaps our actions should come first and the terms could follow their good results? What if they know who we are by our love? Perhaps then we will be invited to the dialogue.
An ethic for strangers: A good friend is intrigued with the problem of strangers. Why are we so frightened of “the other”? (Back to fear.) She is writing a book about the obstacles that fear of strangers pose to finding peace. Race, ethnicity and language differences are almost insurmountable to some. But, even sans these barriers, who among us middle-class, middle-aged, male evangelicals would walk into a gay bar full of English-speaking, middle-aged WASPs and strike up a conversation? (Probably Jesus would.) Perhaps these are Samaritans with a different sexual orientation?
For my mid-life crisis I took an odd (my wife would say bizarre) detour and became a police officer. One motivation arose from my sheltered past, where my work as a highly-educated urban development specialist working in a faith-based organization mainly set me up for conversations with others just like me, to talk about how to fix things for people very unlike me. I wasn’t sure I could carry on a conversation with a bum, a robber or a prostitute. I wanted to learn things I couldn’t absorb where I was, so I went to a considerably different place – the police department – to figure some stuff out. I survived, my wife didn’t divorce me, and I met a lot of interesting people. If nothing else I’m more comfortable with strangers than I formerly was, but I wouldn’t suggest this cure for everyone.
Whether our goal is peace, or just a reasonable zoning solution for our neighborhood, the work of politics is necessary. We can’t communicate easily with those we fear or who fear us. We have to figure out how to get along with strangers.
A sacramental resolve: Holy doggedness is required if followers of Jesus are going to take political responsibility seriously. Tenacity, perseverance, a perception of conflict as necessary “vigorous fellowship” rather than destructive combat, and commitment emboldened and sustained by grace will work. Resolve is not a sacrament, but it can be sacramental. I would understand this as constant outward acts, almost a lifestyle of fearless action. William Stringfellow and Dietrich Bonhoeffer come to mind at once.
The real promises we make in life need to be immersed in sacramental unction. It imparts a sacred resiliency to our actions, whether political or not, and succeeds because it is bigger than we are.
Places of common grace: Those I know who take political responsibility seriously seem unconsciously to seek common ground as a way of life. Common ground creates space for change. Alternatively, the current crop of evangelicals appear to display almost a genetic antipathy to compromise. It has entered the DNA (maybe it was always latent before), and (we)/they now define the camp as uncompromisingly firm in several highly visible areas. Dialogue is no longer possible. Can “grace” and “evangelical” even coexist in the same arena?
A theology of compromise need not be an oxymoron when partnered with grace, and evangelicals need to get this right. So I want to sacramentalize compromise, like resolve (above), and create places of common grace where relationships with the stranger and the pagan are allowed. Without these evangelicals will not succeed at making political responsibility effective.
A commitment to planting sequoias: We all pick up “credos” that we live by. Christ-followers surely define their identities and journeys by some standards like those found in scripture or produced by church councils like the one at Nicea a few years back. One of my favorite supplemental credos to these is the “manifesto of the mad farmer liberation front” by Wendell Berry. He says we should invest in the millenium by planting sequoias. This means we do things now that will never bear fruit in our lifetimes. We take actions and believe in realities that will emerge maybe a thousand years from now. This is an eschatalogically-complex idea! When we pray “your kingdom come – on earth as it is in heaven” we’re asking for much bigger things than the quick deliverance of an immediate rapture. God knows what will happen on earth and in heaven. My job is to take the long view and courageously care for everything as if all the little Baldas of the future mattered. Which of course they do! (Wait til you have grandchildren – all your paradigms shift. Political responsibility means something entirely new.)
Investing in the millennium means creating places of realized potential. It has been two thousand years since the church was a start-up. That’s two millennia. As aware as Paul was of the Kingdom’s immediacy, when he set up communities in Corinth, Galatia, Phillipi, or wherever, he planted sequoias.
So my final step challenging evangelicals to take political responsibility requires embracing the millennium that their offspring will populate and making it work now.

Jim clarifying what the Bible has to say about the state.

I attended the first two days of this year’s Civitas Leadership Seminar in Washington DC. Jim Skillen, the current president of the Center, opened the week-long seminar with an overview of what the Bible teaches that has bearing on political life. The first question Christians must answer in this regard, says Jim: “Is government/political life given as a result of sin, or as a result of what we have been created to be?” The majority tradition in the history of Christianity has been to see the state as being instituted only after humanity fell into sin, to act as a restraint on human wickedness. Jim suggests that the Scriptures teach, instead, that the public administration of our common life is a gift given to humanity in creation already.

Nathan Bierma, Communications and Research Coordinator at the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship and Adjunct Professor of English and Communications at Calvin College, author of Bringing Heaven Down to Earth: Connecting This Life to the Next, and one of my online friends for long years, writes:

A clear model for political engagement, post Religious Right. It’s no longer as simple as ‘amass power from within the system for the good,’ or ‘resist forces of cultural permissiveness,’ nor should it be as simple as ‘get on environment/social justice bandwagon.’ How best should North American Christians in-but-not-of — within, against, behind, apart, ____, ____  — the American polis? Is there a metaphor, posture, passage, (a preposition?) that can convey a new approach (lengthy and nuanced as it may be) in a nutshell? Or not a single new approach, but multiple approaches, in which case how to keep it from getting jumbled?
 
Piece of cake, right?

John Hiemstra, Dean of the Faculty of Social Sciences and Professor of Political Studies at the King’s University College in Edmonton, Alberta, writes:

You’ve said that you want to “bring the rich resources of the Center (and of the tradition of Christian social thought that it represents) into the service of a younger generation of American evangelicals.” I suppose one suggestion you might consider right off, is that you broaden your language and scope beyond what some see as a narrow descriptor “evangelical,” and enlarge your aim and language to include all faithful Christians, Catholics, Mainline, Eastern Orthodox, etc., all Christian who wish to live in the Gospel-way in public life.

There are a host of things that could be said in answer to this question, but one that comes to mind immediately is that too often, Christians slip into some sort of neutral rational realm, when dealing with politics. Even if they then add, in a dualistic fashion some ethics, or faith statements, or rational Christian principles, or some other element INTO public life (politics, culture formation and economics). The reality is that public life still is treated in essence as though it is a common in a neutral rational sense.  I think the strength of the CPJ has been to bring awareness to, and to work on policy within, a framework that constantly discerns the deeper religious/faith/directional thrust of events and actions. I think we don’t need to bring “faith” into politics, it is always, ALWAYS, active in public life. The thing we need to do is discern WHAT faith is active, and introduce the gospel [or recognize it is present already!] and have Christian faith confront and dialogue with the other active faiths. The key directional pull in American (and much of my home country Canada’s) public life is inspired by ideological faiths of guaranteed prosperity through economic growth, national security, technological mastery of human and non human nature, civil religion, and others. These set the tone of discussion, under the public blanket of assumed common secularism.  I think it is critical that this aspect of the religious dynamics of public life receive more direct attention in Christian circles.

In response to our question, “What do American evangelicals need most, today, to help us discern our political responsibilities?” Terry Woodnorth, CPJ board member and a software enegineer for IBM, writes:

* To understand what it means to be a Christian citizen of the United States. What are our responsibilities beyond voting or being for or against a specific issue?
* To understand that “God is not a Republican…or a Democrat” (from Sojourners). Strict allegiance to any of the current political parties or to specific personalities does not become us.
* To understand that America’s civil religion is not the same as Christianity.