I recall Helms and I, while co-pastors of a congregation for about five years, working through the following church life issues:
- The color of the new carpet
- Whether (and how) to remove the American flag from the sanctuary
- Guiding the church through a process for becoming “open and affirming” or fully inclusive of LGBTQ people
- Borrowing money for building improvements
- Opening the building for use by outside groups, both for hospitality and for a little rental income
- Interpreting Black Lives Matter for white people after the murder of Trayvon Martin
- Hiring staff and firing volunteers
- A rogue Sunday school teacher who was much beloved but not good for spiritual formation
- Developing new leaders and releasing experienced but ineffective ones
Greg Jarrell
That’s a very incomplete list. There was way more, much of which I’ve doubtless forgotten.
Dealing with these issues, some of which went the way I wanted and others of which didn’t (damned rouge Sunday school teacher!), required having good relationships, understanding institutional and personal histories, observing relational dynamics, doing good interpersonal and institutional communication, being willing to make unpopular decisions, and developing strong leaders.
With all those inputs, I was able (theoretically, anyway) to use some combination of my authority and influence as the co-pastor of the congregation, and the specific power given to me in that role, to help shape decisions. I’m not saying I did all that well. In fact, I fell short in several ways. But I understood the process, even if I was still learning to work it at the age of about 30.
We have a simple English-language term for understanding public decision-making processes and using one’s role to influence them: “Politics.” Churches are political bodies, even if folks find that basic observation crass. So are the PTA, the Kiwanis Club and your rec league softball team. None of those groups are partisan in a Republican vs. Democrat way, but they are political. The stakes are lower than they are in the United States Senate, but the process is basically the same.
“Pope Leo is a very skilled politician.”
Politics and churches always are in the news, but the subject reached an interesting crescendo this week when President Donald Trump tried to start a fight with the pope. I’m not interested in Trump at this point. He is a tragically stupid man whose sociopathy is wrecking the world. Responsible individuals will spend the next decade or more cleaning up the disasters Trump has loosed across the globe. I’d like not to hear about Donald Trump until he is either dropped off at The Hague or (this phrase deleted by the editors).
I am interested, though, in the pope and his response. In one interview, he drew attention to one of the Beatitudes — “Blessed are the peacemakers” — and said, “I do not look at my role as being political (or as a) politician.” But this is obviously not true.
Pope Leo is a very skilled politician. Being bishop of Rome is a political appointment. There’s no way to rise through one of the world’s oldest hierarchies without using power to influence decisions, understanding institutional histories, being a keen observer of interpersonal dynamics, developing coalitions of allies and leaders and so on.
The “37th president” said it well:
Rather than being apolitical, the pope is engaged in a very shrewd and effective kind of politics. He is using what faith-rooted organizer Alexia Salvatierra calls “dove power” — that is, the kind of power derived from moral leadership, persuasion and coalition building.
The pope exercised that kind of power immediately after denying that he is a politician, by saying, “I don’t think the message of the gospel is meant to be abused in the way some people are doing.”
The first U.S.-American pope knows he wields enormous influence. He also knows Trump is deeply unpopular, is waging a despised and unnecessary war, and about one in five voters identify as Catholic.
Political scientists talk about a similar idea of “soft power,” which used to be one of the USA’s primary means of diplomacy. USAID was a good example of soft power. Previous U.S. leadership saw that providing vaccines and dental care and economic development in high-poverty, over-extracted countries around the world was beneficial to our interests.
The Trump administration’s destruction of USAID, and its repudiation of soft power more generally, has been a moral abomination. It also has been a short-sighted political move whose atrocities will destabilize the global communities for years to come.
I’m no fan of U.S. imperialism, whether accomplished by bombs or the World Bank. Vaccines should not come packaged with exploitation. But decoupling life-saving medicine from economic domination could remove the hegemony while maintaining health care. That does not seem like a difficult choice to me.
Later on, Pope Leo was asked if he was concerned about the reaction of the Trump regime to his comments. He responded simply, “I have no fear of the Trump administration.” That’s not an earth-shaking statement, but it caught me as an example of good pastoral practice.
“The administration’s unifying value is a thirst for mayhem.”
Donald Trump and his co-conspirators choose, at every juncture, to do maximum violence. Whether ICE, Customs and Border Patrol, the destruction of USAID, the entire existence of RFK Jr., the attack on Venezuela, the threats to Greenland, the attack on Iran, or a host of other decisions, the administration’s unifying value is a thirst for mayhem.
Among white Americans, many of us are feeling an acute fear of our own government for the first time. But, of course, it is not the first time the U.S. government has aimed its violence at its own people. Nor is such an experience unusual in world history. It remains unnerving, even for the most hardened activists.
The powers of the world love violence and have few qualms about using it. For Trump and his cohort, rule by fear and violence is the only option. Their dusty consciences long ago ceased functioning. The vacant moral imaginations and truncated intellects know no other way to operate.
That’s scary. And the fear increases as Trump’s psychosis worsens and his coalition falls apart. His behavior at this moment is as good as it is going to get. It keeps getting worse from here.
It’s useful to have a pastoral word in this moment about a different kind of power. “I am not afraid” calls back to the gospel. In Matthew 10, Jesus encourages his disciples not to be afraid: “See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” Or, in a different message to his disciples: “In this world you will have trouble, but be brave! I have overcome the world.”
In other words, you are not safe. You may face destructive, uncontrollable power. Nevertheless, be brave. Be wise. You are not powerless.
Greg Jarrell is the author of Our Trespasses: White Churches and the Taking of American Neighborhoods. He lives in Charlotte, N.C.
Related articles:
Immoral vice president tells pope to stick to ‘matters of morality’ | Opinion by Mark Wingfield
Pope v. Trump is about the value of a moral tradition | Opinion by David Gushee