As Election Day draws near and I attend church services, I become hyper alert listening to my pastors, making sure they stay true to their promise to keep partisan politics out of the pulpit. In the media, I watch how other pastors and church leaders express their political preferences and navigate the highly partisan and toxic world of politics.
People of faith can engage in politics, even support political parties. But the role of pastor is a complicated one when it comes to expressing political leanings. I am reminded of the example my parents left me: what it means to keep the church safe from partisan toxicity.
I never knew how my parents voted – ever. Late in dad’s life and after he’d retired as pastor, there were more inklings, more expressions of how he felt about candidates, but even then, he never said which boxes he’d checked in the voting booth, at least not that I know of. Two things I knew for sure – my parents voted – always – and my dad supported local.
The longer my dad lived in Millville, a small city in South Jersey’s Cumberland County, the more Millvillian his politics became. Meaning, if he had a choice between a hometown candidate who was in tune with Millville’s needs versus someone who was not, he’d always go with supporting local. The same applied to sports, by the way, and he was an avid fan of the local high school teams right to the last days of his life.
Even then, he went out of his way – always – to congratulate the winner and console the loser. And to befriend people regardless of political orientation. He tended to avoid political discussions, but he was always concerned about every politician’s personal life, life choices, and eternal destiny. Democrat or Republican, they were all of value to him.
After local elections, he made a point of stopping by campaign offices to congratulate or console. He was a prolific correspondent and would pop a letter in the mail to local and nonlocal candidates alike.
But he never let on how he’d voted.
My mother was even more secretive in her politics. Like dad, she always voted. Like dad, she kept her preferences to herself. She just left it to dad to reach out to the winners and losers.
Mom and dad even kept their choices from each other. In a day when some religious persuasions are saying spouses should only have one vote between them or at least should always vote in tandem as a sign of Godly unity, my parents would say “Hogwash!” As dad would reply, “Chapter and verse.” His response was less an invitation to prooftext Scripture than it was an expression of his doubt that the Scriptures supported such an opinion.
Where my dad drew the line on politics was in church. No campaigning. Period. He didn’t even want petitions on church property. A government leader might grace the platform on a special occasion. Candidates and office holders were certainly invited for groundbreakings, building dedications, and church anniversaries. But they were there only to support God’s work and not the other way around.
By the way, politicians generally were more available when they were running for office. When I was young, our church went through a series of building programs. For one groundbreaking event, political types were in abundance. Dad noted it was election season. By the time of the building’s dedication, politicos had all but disappeared. Dad noted it was not election season. He who understood the times and the seasons was not above taking advantage of politicians’ weakness for currying favor in the right season.
But the sacred pulpit was never to be profaned by the political. Civic duty and governmental leadership were important responsibilities, ordained by God for the common good. But in our church, it was always clear which was more hallowed.
It wasn’t that one’s political preferences weren’t important. My parents felt strongly about issues and how politicians came down on those issues. They certainly supported laws to keep Sunday free from retail activity and opposed casino gambling and state lotteries. They were committed to life-affirming values and policies that brought dignity and wholeness. They were opposed to racist laws and supportive of education for all citizens. They certainly celebrated religious freedom. But their stands on these issues never crossed the line into partisanship.
Or in replacing the centrality of the proclamation of the Good News. Of utmost importance for my parents was the preaching of the gospel. The gospel affected every aspect of life, including governance and civic duty, thus politics as well. The Good News was supreme – nothing, not even politics, was to be a stumbling block to people hearing God’s Word.
My parents set an example of always keeping the door open to those of differing persuasion, whether it was the candidates themselves or those who supported them. I recall church members getting into heated discussions about upcoming elections and dad making it clear that such discussions were not to occur on church property. Moreover, these church members better make sure their passions allowed them to worship side by side in the pew the following Sunday.
After my father passed away last year, I was talking with my cousin. Her father, my great uncle, and who had my dad’s name first, had been a poultry farmer in South Jersey when we moved there in the late 50s. My dad had great interest in politics and might have even considered running for office at some point. What Cousin Cynthia told me is that dad and Uncle Gerritt had a conversation one day in which dad confided some thoughts about political concerns, maybe even ambitions.
Uncle Gerritt, who knew the scriptures, reminded dad of one of Jesus’ sayings: “Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto God what is God’s.”1 The message for dad was, don’t mix your allegiances. You can render appropriately to each, but you cannot give to one what belongs to the other. Dad needed to make sure he stayed in the lane of his calling.
In the end, dad – and mom – struck the right balance as pastors in southern New Jersey. They even pastored the politicians, albeit sometimes from afar. Over the years, many of them sought him out for guidance and prayer.
When dad passed away last year, the current mayor and school superintendent each came to honor him. Republican Congressman Jeff Van Drew drove up from the nation’s capital just to pay his respects at the viewing. At the funeral the next day, former mayor and staunch Democratic leader Ed Salmon addressed the audience with warm and personal affection for my parents. All counted dad as a friend, and all said they had listened to what dad had had to say.
Dad always had something to say, words of advice, admonition, a note of pastoral care. And dad always had an opinion about how things could be done better. He was never afraid to share his thoughts in just about any setting.
But again, he eschewed labels. Labels of the partisan kind were secondary to values. And values were what needed to line up with the gospel. Not so labels. Labels were human attempts at connecting people with shared values. But those with some shared values don’t share all values in common and so political parties were neither perfect nor perfectly in line with the gospel. And they certainly could be divisive and thus destructive to the unity of believers.
The divisiveness of politics is what my parents saw as a huge threat to the proclamation of the gospel. Partisanship, in pulling people apart, threatened the very fabric of the church. For it called on people to be more passionate about their earthly allegiances than their eternal ones – and nothing was to trump our eternal allegiance to God, certainly nothing as temporary as politics. God was Lord of all people and was the only One who could bring all people together.
I have found great comfort in their example, so much so that I struggle when I hear church and other religious leaders express too openly their partisan preferences. Somehow doing so makes the church feel less safe. I like to know I can bring anyone to church with me, regardless of their political orientation. I like to know that church is the one place where I don’t feel excluded just because I don’t vote like the person sitting next to me or like the pastor.
I might guess how my parents would have voted in this upcoming election, but I really don’t know for sure. Whatever they might have said openly, they never revealed what boxes they had marked. No one from Millville or South Jersey is running for president this year. So, voting for local is out of the question this time around.
What I do know is that my parents would have voted – and that they would have encouraged others to vote. Even more enthusiastically, they would have encouraged everyone they met to render their allegiance to the One who sits on the throne of heaven and is far above the red, white, and blue – and certainly way above the Red and the Blue.
Looking for a safe place to reflect on politics? While this blog is committed to wrestling with issues of justice and compassion that might show up as ballot measures or as legislative initiatives, people of all political persuasions are welcome to this conversation. Be sure to keep up with future posts by subscribing for free – here! And readers can always submit comments or questions at the end of any post.
- Matthew 22:20-22 ↩︎
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