Theology Has Always Been Political

I'm sometimes asked why my theology sounds political. The assumption being that theology and politics are two separate areas and are better off in their respective corners. Except theology has never worked like that.

We often try to "spiritualize" stories and narratives so that we can separate theology from its effects in the real world. Consider the story of John the Baptist and his issues with King Herod. The Gospel of Mark tells us that "John had been telling Herod, 'It is against God's law for you to marry your brother's wife'" (Mark 6:18). We know from the Hebrew Scriptures that the law being referenced here was Leviticus 18:16, which says "Do not have sexual relations with your brother's wife, for this would violate your brother."

This leads me to assume his brother is still alive, which is why it is a violation. If the brother was dead (and had no kids), a man actually had an obligation to marry his brother's widow in that culture (Deuteronomy 25:5-10). The text in Mark implies the daughter who dances at the party (Mark 6:21-25) is Herodias' daughter by her previous husband, Philip (Herod's brother).

Which likely means Herod's brother Philip is still alive and has a daughter who is now living under Herod's roof.

We tend to read this story as a passionate love affair between Herod and Herodias. As if Herod just couldn't resist her, despite the legal challenge it posed. In this reading, he becomes a bit of a precursor to Henry VIII and his six wives. Basically, it's adultery on a grand scale due to the authority at play.

But this story is a bit messier than that.

Rather than a sexual sin, this is more of a political sin. Father Richard Rohr has suggested this story is an example of endogamy (the practice of marrying within one's own family or tribe to preserve power). As Rohr suggests:

It was a tyrant solidifying his hold and explains the ferocity of John's exposure. It is much more a power play within both the temple and royal court that John is exposing, rather than any sexual sin.

As I've written about recently on the idea that everyone did whatever was right in their own eyes, there is likely more happening in this passage than we've realized.

The Herodian family was well known for intermarriage within its dynasty. In fact, the historian Josephus adds that not only was Herodias Herod's sister-in-law, but she was also his niece (the daughter of his other brother, Aristobulus). Those family dinners had to be some kind of awkward.

When we read this story as merely sexual ethics, we miss the inherent political dimension. The same is true today when we try to relegate our beliefs to the theoretical "spiritual dimension" in which the rest of life can carry on as usual. But this misses the story. As the theologian Marcus J. Borg writes:

Israel’s primal narrative is profoundly political in the broadest sense of the word. Politics is about the shape and shaping of society. The exodus story is about the creation of a world marked by freedom, social justice, and shalom.

This narrative continues into the New Testament. When John and Jesus and numerous other people are killed by the government, we might want to take note that an unavoidable overlap exists. Our faith involves the shape and shaping of society. 

Jesus offered a deeply political message in His Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7). When He says God blesses the poor, that's an economic qualifier. It names the result of a system that doesn't work for everyone. When He tells his listeners to turn the other cheek, it offers a specific act of defiance against the social humiliation a superior inflicted on an inferior. When He says to carry a soldier's pack two miles, He is exploiting a precise loophole in Roman impressment law, placing the soldier in legal jeopardy with his own superiors. When He blesses those who work for peace, He is invoking a very different vision of shalom than the Pax Romana the empire enforced through military dominance. And when He says no one can serve two masters, He is making a statement about economic loyalty that cuts directly against Caesar's claim on his listeners' lives.

Or consider how Jesus' image of the sheep and the goats (Matthew 25:31-46) is hard to make sense out of without directly applying it to vulnerable and neglected people within the culture (the direct effects of politics). As the theologian Walter Wink wrote, Jesus "is not giving a nonpolitical message of spiritual world transcendence. He is formulating a worldly spirituality in which the people at the bottom of society or under the thumb of imperial power learn to recover their humanity."

Trying to avoid partisan politics is very different from assuming the way of Jesus has no political implications. When a church tells you to vote for a certain candidate or gives any person the backing of being the "Christian candidate," we have taken a turn away from the message of the Gospel. But when we live out our faith in direct challenge to the powers that be in any way in which they rob life from people in a culture, then we are following the natural trajectory we find in the text. 

Following Jesus is a political act.

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Photo by Jorgen Hendriksen