I recently observed the anniversary of my ordination to the Ministry of Word and Sacrament in the Presbyterian Church (USA), marking nearly half of my life that I’ve been called “pastor.” In that time, every four years, I ̶ and I suspect most pastors ̶ have looked to presidential elections with some trepidation. Congregations usually have some diversity of opinion on candidates and positions, even if unspoken. And the Bible is complicated enough that even contradictory political positions can often find nominal support.
There are laws that prevent the pulpit from becoming a political tool. Since 1954 the Internal Revenue Service has had guidelines, with penalty, for churches and certain non-profit organizations on the bounds of their politicking. There are also laws of self-preservation, when a pastor tries to avoid conflict with parishioners, that may then result in conflict with family when forced to move.
It is a high wire act, trying to walk the line of “good trouble,” as the late congressman John Lewis put it. Say too much and you risk the wrath of some. Say nothing about the day’s events, as if in a religious bubble, and you risk making the church irrelevant. In 2020, the election is one in a long queue of hot topics, even as it sheds its own light on pandemic, economy, racial injustice, and violence in our cities.
It is a fine line to walk. For years, trying to be “all things to all people” (1 Corinthians 9:22), I wouldn’t put a political bumper sticker on my car or a sign in my yard. But as I got older, the poet Mary Oliver’s question rang true for me: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” I realized that I only have one life to share what I believe. The faith I preach is the same faith that informs life as I know it. Up went bumper sticker and sign. Not befriending current church members on Facebook, so I can freely express my political views.
I’m careful about what I say, and sometimes I err, but I can say this. First, in no uncertain terms, vote. To abdicate this responsibility is an affront to every person who risked their life, or died, for this right. Theologian and pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer, executed for trying to assassinate Hitler, wrote, “Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” There is no moral high ground in doing nothing. To do nothing, in the words of priest and social activist Thomas Merton, is to be a “guilty bystander.”
Secondly, while the Bible is full of do’s and don’ts, God gives some succinct direction. Micah asks, “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” In three gospels Jesus is asked, “Which commandment is the first of all?” and in each he answers ‘love the Lord your God and love your neighbor as yourself.’
This Great Commandment finds its origins in the Hebrew Scripture, in Deuteronomy and Leviticus. Islam prioritizes love of God, and also teaches love of neighbor. That means three world religions share these commands.
Additionally, thirteen world religions share versions of the Golden Rule, from Jesus saying, “do to others as you would have them do to you,” Buddha’s “Treat not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful” or Hinduism’s “do not do to others what would cause pain if done to you.”
So vote. If your faith is important to you, it should guide your decision-making. Understand “love God and love neighbor,” don’t ignore it. Voting for all as you would for yourself is a fair and faithful standard.
I can’t tell you how to vote, but I can strongly encourage you to vote, and to honestly and faithfully tie your faith to your politics.
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