The art of godly church politics

Can church politics be played Christianly? We cannot have any truck with the holy height from which some direct their sneers at the business of church politics. Politics is just a reality of the polis: of the city of God as much as the city of man. Authority and power are not of themselves tainted, but given to be exercised with due judgement. As in the state, so in the church: human judgements are imperfect. Their imperfectability does not make them any less necessary. Calling the arrangement and distribution of power and authority in the church ‘politics’ allows us to notice the humanity of the process and so to reckon with its fallibility. The most dangerous and tyrannical regimes in the church arise when the existence of politics is denied and the exercise of power is coated with pious language. The piety of ‘comprehensiveness’ is oftentimes used in this way with world-wide Anglicanism. It gives the appearance of disinterest and balance and conceals the interests that it really serves.

There ought to be no embarrassment then at the existence of a group like the Anglican Church League. They can and have played their part in the good operation of the fellowship of churches in Sydney. They have often done the hard work of convincing people they need to be involved in diocesan affairs in order to ensure its proper, open and effective management. Whereas in other dioceses power congeals in a mysterious way around the bishop, encouraging active participation in the political workings of the Sydney diocese aids in the distribution of power and the involvement of the laity.

Even conceding that politics is a necessity within denominational structures, it is imperative that those who engage in such a process act in such a way that the name of Jesus Christ is honoured. How could this be done? I offer seven principles as a beginning. First: a godly church politics proceeds on the basis that the quality of the means matter more than the delivery of the ends. It refuses to accept the ‘whatever it takes’ mentality of politics in the secular sphere. This is because church politicians ought to recognise the sovereignty of God in practice as well as in theory. The Christian life itself is not about managing outcomes, but about conducting oneself in a manner that testifies to the God in whose hand those outcomes lie. The principles for conducting church politics can surely not differ markedly from this. This principle relates especially to a view of time. Christians understand time itself as being in God’s hands, and so are not concerned when a certain decision takes decades to get right. I have heard people complain: ‘we’ve been discussing this issue since the 1970s!’. To which I feel like replying: ‘Is that all?’ The Anglo-American apologist Os Guiness writes:
Means either serve our ends or subvert our... ends. I often hear the little phrase, "Whatever it takes . . ." The pragmatic comes before the principled and that is always counter-productive. Principled ways of doing things are more effective in the long run. They are not only right. They are wise.

Second, sanctified Christians are still weak and still sin, and so godly politics ought to pursue mutual accountability as a matter of priority. The trouble with having a great cause is that it is too easy to imagine that the sanctity of the cause transfers onto those who share in it. The child abuse scandals in churches across the denominational divides have spread because of this naivety. But a properly Biblical theology of sin recognises that Christians still share in the weakness of the flesh. Article XIX of the Thirty-Nine Articles is quite clear on this:
And this infection of nature doth remain, yea, in them that are regenerated, whereby the lust of the flesh…is not subject to the law of God.

Proceeding on the basis that everyone ought to be answerable takes a good deal of effort and slows down the process. But people become addicted to power like they become addicted to pornography; and the consequences can be just as devastating, even when there is no malevolence of intent. In practice, this means ensuring for example that the same people aren’t serving on committees at several levels of the church’s administration. I would urge the synod to consider limiting the terms that people can serve on diocesan committees - including and especially the Standing Committee - to nine years, unless they have an ex officio position. Introducing new faces to the system would increase the health of the system by increasing accountability and access.

Third, a godly church politics ought to seek the inclusion of women as well as men, and the young as well as the old. The worldly tendency is for denominational structures to be dominated by older laymen and the predominantly male clergy who have a professional interest. The process becomes profoundly alienating to women simply by dint of their reduced numbers. And yet even evangelicals with a complementarian view of gender relations do not have a hierarchical view of Christian fellowship. By not reflecting its own diversity of membership in these decision-making bodies, the denomination is only operating on half its cylinder power. The response to this is not tokenism or the introduction of quotas, but rather a determination to change among those who operate with the church-political sphere.

Fourth, a godly church politics should seek to make structures and processes accessible to those who are disadvantaged by: lack of mates, lack of legal knowledge, lack of rhetorical skill, or ethnic background. The elaborate legal structures and procedures of the synodical process in Sydney are legendary. I have spoken with intelligent professionals who have been on the synod for a number of years and who still feel completely alienated by the process. It may not be possible to simplify the process itself. But the unwieldy process clearly disadvantages those who have to engage with it but do not understand it. What’s more, the process disadvantages those who are alienated from the clusters of friendships that have naturally developed over many years.

Fifth, a godly church politics ought to seek to overcome the paradigm of winners and losers. The system is set up, like most democratic and legal structures, to promote adversarialism. Synods of several hundred people can only express themselves by saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’ – and inevitably more people will say one as opposed to the other. Christians ought to be able to see themselves and their fellowship as not governed by or framed by such a process, however. But the adversarial process produces wounds in the losers that take years to heal if at all. It also promotes in the victors a vulgar triumphalism - that those who opposed this or that decision are suspect, or disloyal. But the political process isn’t the basis for our union – Christ is. In the end I think the remedy for this ongoing problem is that the denominational fellowship needs to find other ways to express itself – perhaps by the institution of a separate conference or event.

Sixth, a godly church politics ought to prioritise persuasion over results. It would be possible, with sufficient numbers, simply to steamroll the synodical process with only a token amount of debate and airing of views. One synod member has spoken to me of the feeling that decisions are all pre-fabricated before the synod actually meets, meaning that most of the members actually have no real input into the decision. The trouble with having a single party like the ACL so dominant is that the real decision-making is in effect reserved for those who have access to the ACL – and the ACL is far less accountable and open than the synod is. The ACL and other active church politicians ought to have as a priority the need to facilitate open discussion of the important issues before the synod in such a way that all synod members can have input into them. The gospel itself is a gospel of persuasion, no coercion; this ought to be reflected in the manner in which we conduct our church politics.

Seventh, a godly church politics ought to beware the temptation to use spiritual language as an instrument of coercion. Spiritualised and quasi-pious language can be used as a means to silence dissent or to manipulate the church political process. By calling the decisions of synodical governments ‘Spirit-led’ in effect bludgeons those who disagreed with by implying that they countered the Spirit. Interestingly, it was through the Spirit in Acts 21:4 that the Tyrean disciples urged Paul not to go to Jerusalem – something he felt his divine calling had compelled him to do – which is to say, the Spirit may come down on both sides of a question! ‘Speaking the truth in love’, from Ephesians 4:15, has become code for ‘if I speak what I think is the truth, however bluntly, then it will by definition be loving’.