Jesus and the Powers: Christian Political Witness in an Age of Totalitarian Terror and Dysfunctional Democracies

by N.T. Wright

previously unthinkable. He had won the decisive victory over the ‘principalities’ and ‘powers’, and was now enthroned as Lord of both heaven and earth. This places the question of the Church’s relation to the ‘powers’ – of whatever sort – in a special spotlight. Something has changed. But what? And where does it now leave those who follow Jesus?

To answer these questions, we turn first to the passages that speak of the ‘victory’.

But why does creation – complete with all its powers, both earthly and heavenly – need to be ‘reconciled’? Clearly, the second half of the poem presupposes something not said here, something corresponding both to Genesis 3 – 11 and to the long story of humankind’s failure, of Israel’s failure. These multiple disasters have led to the point where the ‘principalities’ and ‘powers’, though created in, through and for the one we now know as Jesus, had accrued terrible power to themselves through human idolatry, and were now on the rampage through creation, wreaking havoc with people’s lives and with God’s world. They needed to be brought into line: to be ‘reconciled’. But how?

As often in Paul, this results in multiple ironies. The purpose of Israel – and of Torah as its charter – was to set forward the larger purposes of God the Creator. But insofar as Torah (or those who might be using it to this end) was now threatening to prevent those larger purposes from being fulfilled, it must be abolished – not in the sense of leaving God’s people with no moral compass, but in the sense of inviting them, as people who were once idolaters but are so no more, into a larger multi-ethnic reality no longer defined by the restrictions (circumcision, food laws, Sabbaths) that in the ancient world marked out the Jews from their pagan neighbours. It takes all of Galatians to spell this out more fully, and even then it remains dense and challenging.39

John and Paul (and for that matter Luke, Mark, the author of Revelation and all the others) assume that what had just been achieved through the death and resurrection of Jesus was (1) the fulfilment of Israel’s Scriptures and therefore (2) for the benefit of the whole world, Jew and Gentile alike, just as the Psalms and Isaiah had repeatedly insisted.

First, it had to do with the long-prophesied change of focus from the Jewish people and their homeland to the worldwide Jew-plus-Gentile family, including the various social adjustments required if that was to work, as we see for instance in Romans 14.

Second, it had to do with the liberating sense that new creation was now possible, in a way it had not been before, because in the Messiah’s death and resurrection, and the gift of his own spirit to his followers, the victory had been won which opened the way for advance signs of God’s new world to come to birth, not least precisely in the formation of believing communities made up of people of every kind.

Third, it introduced the radical idea, glimpsed in Isaiah’s ‘servant’ figure, that both the ultimate victory and the manner of its implementation would consist not in violence but in su...

The early Christians, like the Jews, focused their critique not on how the rulers had become rulers but on what the rulers then did with the power they now had.

There is plenty of evidence that church leaders in the second and third century did exactly this, challenging rulers and authorities (for instance) about the plight of the poor.

At one level, the answer is obvious: it is challenging, difficult and quite possibly dangerous, as it was for Paul and his churches.

But at another level – and this brings us with a flying leap into our own era – the Church has often remained unaware of this aspect of its calling.

As in earlier days, when it was possible for devout Christians to imagine that a bloodthirsty ‘crusade’ might be God’s will, so today many are simply, and sometimes dangerously, confused. Some opt for an escapist piety in the present and a distant ‘heaven’ in the future, leaving the present world untouched lest they get embroiled in its messy ways. Others enlist clergy to bless their bombs and their bullets. How did we get here, and how do we get back on track?

John 18:36. As discussed above, Jesus’ saying has often been misunderstood to mean that his kingdom was ‘otherworldly’ in the sense of being only ‘in heaven’. The Greek is clear: Jesus’ kingdom does not originate in this world, but it is emphatically designed for this world.

There is no opt-out for us if we are committed to Jesus as Lord and the way that lordship becomes part of a life lived in community with others. To be clear, this is not about a Christian takeover. It is about Christian testimony in an age of troubles, terror, tyranny and tragedy. The reason for that is simple: the kingdom of God. Precisely because we believe that Jesus is King and his kingly power is operative among us, we cannot retreat to the attic of spiritual affairs, not when there is a gospel to proclaim and a hurting world crying out for healing and hope. Precisely because Jesus is the King of kings, we offer him our worship and allegiance, while earthly monarchs and ministers of state may expect from us our intercession, taxes, counsel and service, a service that in its own way advances God’s purposes for human affairs.

Augustine understood that the ‘city of God’ was not spatially separate from the ‘earthly city’, because the city of God was not a place but a pilgrimage within this world. A pilgrim may make use of temporal goods such as government, employing them for their divinely

intended ends, without worshipping them and without being corrupted by idolatries of power.8 If heavenly citizens do that, they will then be walking signposts of heavenly peace amid earthly chaos, and become a life-giving force in the world as a soul is to the body.9

First up, Christians must resist any attempt to be co-opted or coerced by the State into practices that depart from our internal consensus and do not pass muster with biblical reasoning and creedal formulations.

Similarly, we must have the courage to pursue our own consciences and convictions, not glibly attach ourselves to the visions of either the neo-conservative right or the radical left. We are to live faithfully within the symbols, story and message of King Jesus that bid us to clasp our hands in prayer as much as to put them to the trowel of earthly labour in his name. So how do we build for the kingdom without falling into the trap of spiritual isolationism or being led into captivity to a political master?

The story the Evangelists all tell brings together beautifully these two major themes of cross and kingdom. They are telling the story of how the deeds, suffering, death and resurrection of Israel’s Messiah somehow bring about his worldwide sovereign kingdom. In that kingdom, there is reconciliation, forgiveness, liberation and justice. Not just justice declared over us, but justice about us, in us and for us.

In all four Gospels, then, there is no dumbing this down: this is the coming of the kingdom, the sovereign rule of Israel’s God arriving on earth as in heaven, exercised through David’s true son and heir, the ‘Messiah’. The kingdom comes through his death. The fact that the kingdom is redefined by the cross doesn’t mean that it isn’t still the kingdom. The fact that the cross is the kingdom-bringing event doesn’t mean that it isn’t still an act of horrible and brutal injustice on the one hand, and powerful, rescuing divine love on the other. The two meanings are brought into dramatic, shocking but permanent relation. Ultimately, the cross is the sharp edge of kingdom-redefinition, just as the kingdom, in its redefined form, is the ultimate meaning of the cross.

What is clearly not in mind is that preaching the cross to the ‘lost’ would happen in one church while acts of mercy for the poor would happen in another church. Advancing the kingdom means promoting the gospel from Jesus and about

Jesus. Kingdom-work is continuing to do the very same things that Jesus himself did among individuals in need, challenging self-assured religious types, offering mercy to the downtrodden and forgotten, warning of judgement, exhorting faith in God’s generous forgiveness, and speaking words of truth in the halls of political power. Jesus is the crucified and risen king who calls us to kingdom-allegiance and kingdom-deeds that are humbly cruciform and positively bursting with the life of the new creation.

First, God builds God’s kingdom. The kingdom itself is not manufactured or constructed by human hands. Be that as it may, God has ordered his world in such a way that his own work within that world takes place precisely through his creatures, in particular, the human beings who reflect his image. That is central to what it means to be ‘made in God’s image’. God intends his wise, creative, loving presence and power to be reflected, ‘imaged’ if you like, into his world through his human creatures. God has enlisted us to act as his stewards in the project of creation and in new creation.

Second, we do well to distinguish between the final manifestation of the kingdom and the present anticipations of it.

If that is true, then, every act of love, gratitude and kindness; every work of art or music inspired by the love of God and delight in the beauty of his creation; every minute spent teaching a severely disabled child to read or to walk; every act of care for a dying patient; every deed of comfort and support for refugees; everything done for one’s fellow human beings;

everything to preserve and beautify the created order; all spirit-led teaching, every deed that spreads the gospel, builds up the Church, embraces and embodies holiness rather than corruption, every prayer for the heart’s longings, and the worship that makes the name of Jesus honoured in the world – all of this will find its way, through the resurrecting power of God, into the new creation that God will one day make. That is the logic of the mission of God. God’s recreation of his wonderful world, which has begun with the resurrection of Jesus, continues mysteriously as God’s people live in the risen Christ and in the power of his spirit. This means that what we do in Christ and by the spirit in the present is not wasted, not abandoned, not discarded. Our holy labours will last long, all the way into God’s new world. In fact, they will even be enhanced there.

Perhaps the single greatest threat is not the rise of secularism or the emptying of churches, but the apathy and indifference of the churches that are still here. People too self-absorbed and too affluent to care for anything outside their own social media bubble, beyond their own circle of friends, and beyond the view of their front lawns. Too many so-called disciples committed to Jesus to the point of convenience, not to the point where their discipleship costs them anything. Yet Jesus bids us all to come and follow him, to leave worldly trinkets behind and to do hard things, crazy things and impossible things, for no other reason than that he is our king,

them anything. Yet Jesus bids us all to come and follow him, to leave worldly trinkets behind and to do hard things, crazy things and impossible things, for no other reason than that he is our king, walking alongside us, suffusing our earthly endeavours with the energy of the spirit.

All that is true of politics even without bringing God into it. To understand political office as a Christian vocation is obviously prone to manifold abuses.

But that is not to say that religion cannot speak into our political world. Even with a healthy notion of the separation of Church and State, those governed may still appeal to a common consensus and deploy religious resources to urge the State to create a society that benefits people of all faiths and none.

To insist that religious considerations can never be brought into the political realm would be impractical (since people cannot compartmentalise their beliefs), impossible (because Church and State relationships are not always clear-cut, as we see for instance in education and the charities sector) and illegal (because you cannot disenfranchise people of faith).36 In a pluralistic democracy, citizens should feel free to engage in political persuasion based on religious premises.37 Indeed, democratic and pluralistic societies need to make room for religious voices and religious communities amid the wider sway of voices that can be heard in the public square.38 The British abolitionist movement of William Wilberforce and the civil rights movement of Martin Luther King were religious rather

than secular political movements. Furthermore, the presence of a Christian voice in Western parliaments should be unsurprising because most Western nations are founded on a Christian heritage. We should therefore expect that Christian values will be reflected, directly or indirectly, in the debate, discourse and legislation that transpire in public.

Here we do well to remember that the whole purpose of Christian influence is not the pursuit of Christian hegemony but the giving of faithful Christian witness.

Within our responsibility to build for the kingdom, there are different levels of interaction between the Church and the official rulers. Romans 13 enunciates the minimal position: being a Christian does not mean being an anarchist.

The purpose of this chapter, then, is to formulate a preliminary report on a theology of politics and power. The way we will do that is by pointing to the tensions between Church and State and mapping the different ways in which Christians have responded to tyrannical state authorities.

They will not pray to him but they will pray for him. What is more, because of their wishes for his success and prosperity, he is more their Caesar than the Caesar of some pagans!11 This is why the Anglican divine, Richard Hooker, in his Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, argued that the Church should be subject to the authority and laws of the State in matters that did not directly contradict the Church’s essential doctrines. According to Hooker, the State had the authority to regulate the external affairs of the Church, such as the building of churches and even ensuring the proper conduct

of public worship.

We must remember that the exhortations towards submission and obedience given by Paul and Peter are a general principle, not a rule that should apply to every situation in every place in every age.

32 Government is a form of common grace instituted by God so that human rulers are appointed to execute justice, security and welfare for the peoples governed. What is more, governments will be held accountable in this age and the next based on how well they govern.

Even to consider the prospect of violence as permissible or divinely sanctioned enters into a morally fraught space. There is a reasonable argument for a just war against a foreign invader, but a justification for anti-government revolutionary violence against one’s own civic leaders and against one’s fellow citizens is more precarious. To take up arms or to use the might of a mob against one’s own people is an ethical minefield. We are told by Jesus not to take ‘an eye for an eye’ and ‘when someone hits you on the right cheek, turn the other one towards him’.55 Paul also taught, ‘Never repay anyone evil for evil,’56 because to resist evil with evil is to create a never-ending spiral that destroys everything and everyone in its path. One could also argue – that is, purely pragmatically! – that non-violent movements tend to be, more often than not, more successful than violent ones.57 The ethics of militant resistance and uncivil disobedience is notoriously complex and disputed.58 Political theorists such as John Rawls have condoned militant and uncivil resistance to authorities that do not meet the criterion of being ‘nearly just’.59 The Czech Catholic political philosopher and anti-Communist activist Tomáš Halík writes:

The dilemma is that Delmas applies this imperative to uncivil action, not just to illegitimate and authoritarian governments, but also to democratic and liberal ones where they act unjustly towards immigrants, minorities or even animals.64 But that leaves us with a predicament as to which injustices deserve uncivil disobedience. Should one target the homes of judges for being pro-life or pro-abortion? Should activists target houses of worship with gun violence for their support of, or opposition to, gun violence? Should one assault and forcibly remove ‘scab’ labour? Should victims of gambling addiction smash slot machines in a casino? Should taxi-drivers vandalise the cars of Uber drivers who put them out of work? Should

vegan activists burn down butcher shops? Uncivil disobedience should only be undertaken for the public good and to uphold civil rights, not for the benefit of niche interest groups, nor to promote a self-interested cause. Furthermore, disobedience must be scaled to the detriment that a government performs against its citizens and non-citizens. Even if no government is ideally just, one should not automatically revert to uncivil actions if the government is, in Rawls’s language, ‘nearly just’. It may help if we distinguish unjust laws from unjust government.

David VanDrunen (Politics after Christendom: Political theology in a fractured world [Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2020], p. 356) wisely notes: ‘Overthrowing Batista may give you Castro. Overthrowing the Shah may give you Khomeini. A revolution itself can produce massive suffering that outweighs the injustice it was meant to remedy.’

To recap, we’ve seen that Christians have a complex relationship with the State, existing between the poles of seeking political favour with civic leaders and being a political nuisance in Jesus’ name. Furthermore, while government is instituted by God for public justice, security and welfare, we have concluded that it is permissible to disobey unjust laws and to resist unjust government. That should be done preferably by peaceful means, but with a door slightly ajar to just war against tyrannical government in the most extreme of occasions. Now we wish to explore the type of unjust governments that Christians may find themselves called to resist. This too is not straightforward: it is contested and a moral minefield if ever there was one. What follows is not an exhaustive exploration; it is a selective case study, intended to be relevant to current events in the 2020s.

Nonetheless, we should take heed of Fascist-like regimes who weaponise grievances, valorise militarism, play on ethnic prejudices, and believe that all the nation’s problems can be solved by a demagogue carrying a big stick.1 Such regimes can be found in the Middle East, Africa, Asia, Europe and South America, sometimes supported by the West due to their anti-Communist stance, or their favourable disposition to Western business interests.

Nazism was an incredibly eclectic world view, combining Darwinian science and pseudo-sciences such as eugenics, and incorporating some aspects of Lutheranism, elements of the philosophy of Nietzsche, the music of Wagner, Nordic mythology, anti-Jewish conspiracy theories, numerology, idealised masculinity, nationalism, militarism, anti-Communism and belief in the magical power of ancient artefacts – it had something for everyone!

It is worth noting, too, that Fascism and Communism, for all their differences, both hinge on absolute power put into the hands of the State and its supreme leader.

The Communist leaders Stalin and Mao killed far more people than Hitler, King Leopold of Belgium in the Congo, and the military junta of Argentina put together. Yet Hitler and Fascism remain lodged in Western imagination as the definitive symbol of human evil. Concerning Communism,

The Marxist mantra, ‘From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs’, was not really a deduction about