A rather persistent pattern of criticism has emerged against Sojourners from a group of people suggesting that our commitment to the building of community signals a withdrawal from the world, that we are more concerned with an “alternative lifestyle” than with social justice, and that we are apolitical, or not political enough, or at least not political in the right ways. The explanation which is being offered for these manifold errors is that the Sojourners have become Anabaptists, and of course everyone knows how wrong the Anabaptists were.
The bulk of such criticism has come from a group of Reformed theologians and academics, most of whom are contributors to the Reformed Journal of
It is not my task here to evaluate or defend either the contributions of my friend John Yoder or the Anabaptist tradition more generally. It is enough to say that the witness and courage of the Radical Reformation of the 16th century is one of the traditions of the church in which we at Sojourners have found clarity, nurture, and inspiration. The Anabaptist story shows us a radical faithfulness to the point of suffering and a community whose obedience to the gospel of the kingdom turned them into a servant people willing to accept a minority status in the world. Theirs is a story (much more than a theological system) that, like many other similar stories in other theological traditions, stands in stark contrast to the realities of congregational life in most of our churches today, including, unfortunately, most of those churches who are the heirs of Anabaptists.
My concern, however, is not to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of the Anabaptist tradition. Rather, it is to raise some serious questions about the criticism that is coming from
In recent issues of the Reformed Journal, John Howard Yoder, Mark Hatfield, Sojourners, and myself have all been taken to task. In several articles as well as in the editorial pages, a rather clear message seems to be coming through. Those who are singled out for criticism are guilty of not being politically responsible, which is extended to mean not being really political, or at least not being political in the way Christians ought to be.
For example, in Issac Rottenberg’s recent article in the May 1977 issue entitled “The Shape of the Churches’ Social-Economic Witness,” he accused Sojourners of a communal withdrawal from the world, preoccupation with personal lifestyle over political action, and a lack of concern or engagement with questions of public policy because of an overly negative view of the state. Rottenberg charges that the biblical vision is “removed from the scene of political realities … when we limit the impact of the gospel to a small community of committed people who practice the disciplines of ‘Pentecostal economics.’” I have continually wondered, often in bewilderment, why such things are said. The whole thrust of such arguments is full of caricature and charges that are simply untrue.
Can anyone read the pages of Sojourners magazine and say that we have removed the biblical vision from the scene of social, political, and economic realities? Can anyone seriously examine our editorial coverage and find a lack of concern over matters of public policy? Copies of Sojourners are finding their way into Congressional offices, the State Department, and even into the White House. Increasingly, Sojourners’ treatment of public policy issues is picked up by the national press. Last week, the President of the South Korean embassy’s information office, in a personal meeting, tried to convince me to change our editorial criticism of
This year alone, Sojourners fellowship has engaged in or initiated over 40 public actions around such issues as torture and the denial of human rights in U.S.-supported dictatorships, the proliferation of nuclear armaments and power, and the District of Columbia government’s repressive housing policies which displace the poor in Washington’s inner city. In all these campaigns and actions a number of methods have been employed, including public education, political organizing, petition, personal dialogue and relationship with officials, support for legislative initiatives in the Congress, and civil disobedience.
The location of our community in the inner city and the ministries and services that have grown up out of just being where we are have a very clear political meaning. So do the ways we are being changed and stretched because of our growing relationship with the poor in the city. The essential political character of following Jesus and of living together as the body of Christ in the world has been basic to our self-understanding since the beginning of our community. The political character of discipleship in community is well described by Juan Mateos in this issue, in his article “The Message of Jesus.”
Why is it then that Sojourners is accused of being apolitical when it seems evident that we are and have always been deeply political, as John Howard Yoder and Mark Hatfield are, each in their own way? It seems to me the problem isn’t that we are not political, but that we are not political in the same way that our Reformed critics are—and the way they think Christians ought to be.
Their own stance, as I read it, is one of moderate to liberal reform of existing structures, using a “realistic” approach which accepts the fundamental values and the basic framework of the American system of economics and politics. Thus, beneath all the doctrinal assertions, what one finds is a theological version of traditional Western liberalism. That perspective is neither new nor unique, nor more biblical than other alternatives. In other words, a central part of the disagreement is that Sojourners and Grand Rapids have a different theological understanding of what biblical politics ought to be as well as a very different analysis of present historical problems and what needs to be done about them.
A persistent theme in the many criticisms of radical Christians is that we have “an overly negative view of the state.” Issac Rottenberg joins others in objecting to Christian witness “in the form of being a countersign to the cultural values of the day.” That, he feels, inevitably leads one to a stance of “over-againstness, dissent, resistance, and scandal,” in relationship to the existing social order. He confesses that his Reformed heritage makes him uncomfortable with that stance.
But again, one could respond that most Reformed critics have an overly positive view of the state, one that is far too uncritical on both theological and historical grounds. It certainly has been my observation that there seems to be a basic conservatism and accommodation to the state in the present thinking and practice of the Reformed theoreticians which seems also to be historically characteristic of Calvinist political theory.
A recent editorial in the Reformed Journal, for example, criticized Sojourners for urging Christians to consider resisting the payment of taxes used for an escalating arms race, and took issue with Senator Mark Hatfield’s proposal for the World Peace Tax Fund in the Congress. This proposal would give Christians and others the right to object to the use of their taxes for war purposes, diverting them instead to more peaceful pursuits in much the same way that persons now have the right to conscientiously object to participation in the military. The editorial objected to these approaches on the grounds that they reflect a basically negative view of the state as an institution and would produce socially undesirable consequences like “fiscal chaos.” This is not the first time that the Reformed position has defended the state against the expression of conscience by other Christians.
It could as easily be said that it is the Calvinist position that is politically irresponsible—in failing to accept the political example and style of Jesus.
However, would it not be better to cease accusing one another of not being really political or really responsible? Would it not be better to recognize that all Christians are very political, consciously or not? Would it not be better to honestly identify the real differences of opinion among us and begin a more open and fruitful dialogue that might aid us all in discerning the shape of biblical politics?
We were never accused by anyone of political withdrawal until we began to speak of the crucial need for the rebuilding of the church, for finding a deeper experience in worship, for committing ourselves to the creation of a pastoral life which can undergird a genuinely prophetic presence and action in the world. It is our belief, more deeply than ever before, that authentic political existence requires an authentic personal and communal existence.
Unless our sense of peoplehood is strong, unless the life we share as the body of Christ is rich and flowing, unless the gifts and presence of God’s Holy Spirit are visibly evident among us—unless all of these things are true in our experience and not only in our theology, we can never hope to understand the meaning of biblical politics. This is why the building of community is a revolutionary task at the same time that it is a pastoral task. That is why we say that the rebuilding of the church is the single most politically responsible act men and women of faith can undertake.
This is why the question like the one Issac Rottenberg asked in his article is so important: “Does not this strong preoccupation with the shape of the church imply withdrawal from the pressing social, political, and economic issues that confront the world?” The answer must always be no! What is so disconcerting about the present state of theology and the life of the church is that such a question even needs to be asked. It is the very preoccupation with the shape of the common life of the people of God that most enables us to answer the daily questions we must confront of how the word of God might be proclaimed and incarnated in the midst of the politics of our own age.
Jim Wallis was editor-in-chief of Sojourners when this article appeared.
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