Hey, Christians, Who Picked up the Pitchforks? 

In a world of growing political division, Christians should be leading the charge on connection. 

This election cycle, nearly every house in my neighborhood put out the same signs.  I went to an election party where nearly everyone voted for the same candidate.  I didn’t know there could be “liberal Christians” until I got to Baylor and met them, and I still think a lot of the “conservative Christians” don’t think they’re real. That smaller, liberal demographic—the “nearly” in my neighborhood—tends to be pushed away by the majority into their own, fenced-off group.  The “less” is reduced of its complexity—thereby its humanity—by the “more,” relegated to caricatures and joke fodder.  If this was the secular world, I wouldn’t be surprised by this.  Division and lacuna are stock-in-trade in modern politics.  However, Christians aren’t supposed to go along with the outside world.  Their teacher was notorious in His time for crossing social boundaries, dining with both tax collectors and zealots.  He led the way for radical unity.  So, where’s the disconnect? 

With some exceptions, I’ve been inside a bubble of the same socio-political sphere my entire life.  I grew up in a more-or-less conservative, Christian household that sent me to a more-or-less conservative, Christian private school which set me up for a more-or-less conservative, Christian university.  As I’ve trudged through the relative homogeny, it’s seemed easiest for the people I’ve grown up around to follow their Christian commandments within the sameness of their chosen communities, rather than outside them; shared values mean less friction, as it turns out.  The golden rule to “love God, love others” is a lot easier to follow when your God and your others are a lot like you.   

And I think that was the whole point of the commandment.  The people of Jerusalem didn’t need help loving their in-group, and we don’t need help now.  In John 13:15, Jesus makes it clear that his humility towards all people is an example for us.  And if a Christian can’t reach across the party line and wash the feet of their neighbor, then what example are we setting? 

I don’t know if I can propose a singular “Christian” party in American politics, despite efforts from either side.  I have friends that are united by hardly more than their belief in the resurrection, and knowing these types of Christians matured my own views on faith and politics in a way that makes stark categorization seem impossible to me.  Also, I should say: although the majority demographic that makes up my world is conservative, the same rules for in-groups and out-groups apply to majority liberal demographics, as well.  We’re all complicit in division.  So, if it’s not the establishment of a “Christian” party, what needs to change? 

When leading Baylor’s chapter of the Alexander Hamilton Society through political dialogues, President Luke D’Ambrosio has a guiding principle in his club: the foundation for productive political discussions is a fundamental respect for the other person.  This is easy to say, but practice is a different story (think of the person who makes your eyes roll).  And what happens if you’re in a neighborhood like mine, where you’re rarely exposed to people of a different view?  Separation restricts people’s ability to relate to one another.  If you’re closed off from other people, then you’re keeping yourself from loving as Christ calls us to. 

God gave humanity free will, and we’ve done some admittedly odd things with it (I still question my thought process behind a particular high school haircut); however, it fuels the diversity in our world.  Differences, in that sense, are holy, and loving our neighbor as ourselves means trying to know them like we know ourselves: fully, richly, and graciously.  There’s a glorious weight to the idea that our neighbor is made in God’s image.  When we overlook our theologies in favor of stereotypes, a significant aspect of the Christian calling is lost.   

One of my favorite books of 2023 was Jeff Sharlet’s The Undertow, a collection of longform narrative journalism that occupied various pockets of America’s fractioning political sphere.  An area of continual return was Evangelical Christianity: Sharlet gave his readers a hard look at a reality of far-right Christianity, to be sure; but the reason his book struck me was his earnest attempt at understanding these demographics.  He tried to listen, really listen, to people radically different than himself.  And in a world where Jesus tells us to cross differences and love our neighbor, Sharlet, a nonbeliever himself, should be noticed for going in the right direction. 

Political differences are not the same as haircuts, however.  Issues carry enough power between democrats and republicans to tear relationships apart.  And it’s these issues’ fidelity to separation that sour people on the idea of connection.  So, when does this “loving your neighbor” business cross the line?  When should we dig our trenches?  

I cannot imagine being told, amidst Roman persecution, to render to Caesar what is Caesar’s.  I cannot imagine, as Nero burned and crucified Christians, being told to pray for those who persecute you.  And yet, in the midst of serious threats and imminent danger, Christians were told to do just that.  Remember Sharlet?  He threw himself into dangerous places for the sake of understanding.  The rest of us don’t get a paycheck for listening; going to those lengths means unspeakable compromise, whoever you voted for.  It’s radical.  It’s asinine upon first glance.  It’s something I could never, ever tell someone to do.  And yet, Jesus commands it.  When I read what He asks of us, it’s never, “thou shalt vote republican or democrat.”  He never claimed that November 5^th was our salvific event.  It’s pretty heavily implied, though, that the Kingdom of Heaven is bigger than Washington; also, Luke 17:21— “the kingdom of God is in the midst of you.”  He’s adamant that we seek it. 

As we look to the Kingdom, we must remember that our neighbor belongs there, too.  Seeking to love those different than us doesn’t simply mean tolerance; it means loving with our actions, by forming connections across our differences.  We’re not digging trenches but tearing down fences.  If you’re not around those different than you, seek them out.  I mentioned at the beginning that I couldn’t define a “Christian” political party because of myriad Christians I’ve had the beneficial, albeit confusing at times, experience of meeting.  I learned as I loved, and Lord knows I’m all the better for it.   

Learn from that guy who makes your eyes roll, so that you might love them better (also, try to stop rolling your eyes at them).  Wash their feet, as He did for us.  Christians should be setting the example for modern political interaction, not falling into division.  Jesus exemplified a life of expansive connection, one that certainly makes room for the glory and mystery of our neighbor, whether we agree with them or not.  And who knows?  If Christians become known for radical connection, we might be bringing the Kingdom of Heaven a little closer to Earth.