Christ and Politics

To begin with I shall say briefly why I think that, if we, are to take ‘politics’ in
the ordinary modern sense, political interpretations of the gospels are
mistaken. I do not think that Jesus sought political power in order to change
society or that either he or his followers were concerned with the political
independence of the section of the Roman empire where they lived. In the
second part I want to talk of the relevance the gospel has, nevertheless, to
the things that do concern politicians in the modern sense. I take it that every
Chris'tology imph'eS an ecclesiology; so that section Will be a discussion of
what, πι" View of what we have to say about Jesus, is the relationship of the
body of Chns't to the body politic.
Let us begin' with Simon. I do not think that the Apostle whom Luke, both
ш" his' Gospel and in Acts, called ‘Simon the zealot’ could have been a zealot
1n' the restricted and technical sense that the word acquir'ed only some years
after the cruc1fix1"on of Jesus. Simon was, perhaps, or had been, zealous for
the exact observance of the Law and disapprovm'g of other Jews who ως…
have been more free and easy. Maybe he belonged, or had belonged, to a
Jewish sect rather like some extreme right-Wing, super-orthodox groups m'
modern Israel. (Or perhaps he just had a nick-name somehow related to
this.) Much later ‘zealot’ also came to mean an organized group engaged not
in the defence of the Law against back-sh'ding Jews but πι" subvertin'g by
violence the Roman colom'al rule.
When I say that I think these things you must not suppose that I claim' any
personal expertise or authority in these matters. I am merely in'dicatm'g that
I have been convm'ced by E. P. Sanders in' Jesus α…! Judaism (1985), and,
especially, by the arguments of Raymond Brown m' his' book, The Death of
the Messiah (1994).
Brown pom'ts out that the Roman dJr'ect rule of its provm'ce …' Palestin'e
 God Still Matters

by l’refects or procurators fal-ls into two periods separated by the short reign
of Herod Agrippa 1, between 41 and 46 CE. He argues that Roman mile and
Jewish attitudes to it were very different in the two periods; and, of course,
the ministry of Jesus belonged exclusively to the first. Much …;"…

…
reading of the Gospels, from Kautsky to Brandon and Wm'ter, for Whom

,.-;,.=ζ.;…
Jesus was a poh'tical activist agam'st colonial rule, arises, he suggests, from
treating πως first period (when there were Prefects, for example Ροπή…
Pilate, only of Judaea) as exactly like the second, when dlr'ect rule extended

………ι…
….
north m‘to Galil'ee.

Too often the final years before the Revolt with their' seetlun'g dis'content
and Zealot terroris'm have been thought characteristic of the earh'erpenod'
πι" which Jesus lived. Tlus' has fac1h"tated the creation of the myth that),
Jesus was a political revolutionary. (Brown, p. 677)

. :"
Ι have, for some years, argued that Liberation Theology 15' not helped ως: ,;
hindered by a mis’taken ‘process theology’ of God — produced largely
bourgems' acaderru'cs ш' Europe and the USA. It is now, I suppose, {Ша-‚Е, д
argue that it 15' not helped either but hindered by nus'readln'g the ακουµπά…
Jesus ш' the New Testament. Η: :

*
Brown also notes the particularly savage infighting dunng' the ΄
before Chns't among various Jew1s'h factions and contenders for µον6Ι……-*ί
bloody history of massacres and cruc1fix1"ons. The last of the successors
Herod the Great, Archelaus

Emperor removed hun' and appom'ted . . . the first prefect of Μ…»,

after such а baneful histo'ry [of JeWIS'h rule] the Roman ρΜ….… "*
sented a more sane and orderly adrmms"tration, even if' Το… Μ΄
rarely Μαι (Brown, p. 678)

We are, I thmk', entitled to add a pm’ch of salt to that ‘request’; I can … _

no successful takeover of a country by a το… power which Μ' *.
sequently turn out to have been ΜΜΕ Nevertheless. υ _
pom't stands. ς. *…&…
It is', in'deed, hard to unagm"e anyone actually liking" Ρ…, ? ,?-
was not notably Μο…"… either by the standards мм, … ΄
Hasmoneans and Ηπα… or of the later corrupt w
 Christ and Politics

colonial rulers. Indeed the whole reign of the (personally detestable)

Emperor Tiberius (14—37 (IE) which covered the whole public ministry of
Jesus was generally recognized as remarkably peaceful (sub тет (µάθε,
πω Tacitus put it) or, as we say in the praecom'um with which (at least in the
Dominican rite) we introduce the liturgy of Christmas: ‘In the …'… age of the
world, when the whole world was at peace: Jesus Christ, eternal Son of the
ραπ… Father, was born ш' Bethlehem in Judaea of the Vir'gm' Mary’.
finally, a Spanish scholar, pleasantly and ironically called Guevara, is quoted
by Raymond Brown, in what he describes as ‘his most detailed study of the
political context in Judaea’ as saying ‘The response of the sources is very clear:
the epoch of the public life of Jesus was a peaceful epoch’ (Brown, p. 679).
However, during this peaceful epoch Jesus was undoubtedly crucrfi'ed.
(After typing this article I read in the press that it had been doubted by Mr
Enoch Powell: I would like to record my appreciation of this most welcome
corroboration of my position.) Moreover, every Gospel indicates that the
charge laid agains't him before P11'ate was that he claimed to be ‘King of the
Jews’. (And this despite the fact that before his trial nobody in the Gospels
ever calls hlm' K1n'g of the Jews except a legendary Magus at the begm'm'ng of
Matthew.) There is' surely at least a thf' of poh'tics about all this.
A plausible explanation, however, is that the work of Jesus, although not
poh'u'cal, and his' teachln'g, although also not political, had a defacto poh'tical
effect. He was a trouble—maker m' an unstable society. As E. P. Sanders says,
speaking of Jesus’ announcement of the end of the temple and, even more,
his' symboh'c attack on the place itself, tlus'

. . . would have been offensive to most Jews. The gesture, even Η it did not
rais'e much tumult, could readily have led the Romans to thmk' that Jesus
was a threat to pubh'c order. In particular the physical demonstration
agams't the temple by one who had a notable followm'g looms as so
obvious an occasion for the execution that we need look no further.
(Sanders, p. 302)

Α….-

We can understand [the execution of Jesus] sun'ply by knowm'g that he

spoke of a kingdom and sinrr'ed the hopes of the people. we mir'acles also
produced excitement, and excitement carries its own dangers . . . a man
who spoke of a kingdom, spoke agains‘t the temple and had a followm'g

81
 ΜΜΜ XII/l МИН/тж

“на one marked for ι'Χ('ι'||||΄υ||; but no ω…- need have regarded "Με"
military leader. . . ||… llonians regarded him as dangerous at one levelbm
not :it another; il.'1iigt-i'oiisas one who excited the hopes and dreams σε…
.|ι…κ…… but not as an actual leader of an insurgent group. (Sanders, p.295)

ΤΙΜΉ… was no insurgent group: none of Jesus’ followers was arrested“

harassed by the Roman authorities after the crucrfix'ion.
it has to he said, though, that Jesus himself is presented in the Θωρ…
somewhat ambiguous on the question of his role. The early churches knew
ot'two interrogations of Jesus after his arrest, one by his fellow Jews and one …
by the Roman authorities, and they give us fascinating (but ш' hJSto'rical μ'
detail not very credible) dramatic accounts of how they un'agin'ed these ….
interrogations took place. As they present it, both interrogations really
centred on the question: in what sense is Jesus the Christos, the name which
after the resurrection, and only after the resurrection, became the
commonest title of Jesus. The questioning seems, at first sight, qinte'
different on the two occasions.

V
In the first, it is what we would call religious, but in the second Η ;
political. The Jewish m'terrogators are presented as concerned about whether

*
Messianic (Christological) claims about Jesus m'volve a claim' to be m' some

V
specially deep (and putatively blasphemous) sense ‘son of the Blessed’, that
is divm'e, a demi-god. In the Roman interrogation Pilate is' concerned about
whether the claim' is, m' the ordln'ary sense, political: is it a claim' to m'de- ΄
pendent km'gship. ‘Are you the king of the Jews?’ In almost every case Jesus
replies to this εμ legez's Wlu'ch has hitherto been rendered m' English as ‘Thou 5’
hast said it’ or, as ш' Brown: ‘You say’. We are now, happil'y, able to be more.
accurate: sm’ce The House of Cards, we know that what Jesus said was Топ-Ё
nu'ght very well say that: I couldn’t possibly comment.’
There is', of course, no doubt at all that Jesus announced the commg'of‘
‘the k1n'gdom’, the kingdom of heaven, the km'gdom of God or your»?
km'gdom’, as, for example, when Mrs Zebedee came up to him with her
and said to him ‘Command that these two sons of We may sit one at
right hand and one at your left, m' your k1n'gdom’ (Mt. 20:20). Jesus Η…
that that sort of thing is really not his' busm'ess. His' busm'ess is' to
cup’, to suffer and die. It is the busm'ess of his Father to decide " '
happen next: the resurrection and glorification of Jesus, the
Spiri't and the acknowledgement of Jesus as the Chnst‘ (wlu'ch is‘ ' Η
Church is about).

82
 (Wrist (II/ll |'ω||/|΄ι'.…

In the Gospel of John. as a matter ot' literzn'y device, all interlocutors of

Jesus have at least one thing in common: they have to iiiismiderstand him ~
so that he can develop what he has said at a deeper level. l'sually this takes
the form of a ('i'assly literal mismidei'standing of what Jesus has said:
Nicodemus: "Η… a man enter again into his mother‘s womb.’ The woman at
the well: ‘(x‘ive me some of that water, that I may not thirst. nor come here to
Με…" (though I think she is joking). So also with the people after the feeding
ofthe five thousand. But in the synoptics, too, the people regularly miss the
point of what Jesus is doing or saying.
At the big demo on Palm Sunday, Mark reports the crowd as shouting,
‘Blessed is the kingdom of our father David that is coming. Hosanna in the
highest.‘ Luke says they shouted, ‘Blessed is the king who comes in the, name
of the Lord’; John has ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even
the king of Israel” but adds, ‘His disciples did not understand this' at first, but
when Jesus was glonfi'ed, then they remembered’.
So the nu'sunderstandm'g involved in Jesus’ condemnation on a political
charge is a sort of culmination of a series of m'evitable rru'sunderstandin'gs
throughout his mmls"try. I think tlu's is part of the positive teaching of the
evangelists: Jesus is' not so much ‘the man for others’, as ‘the man to be mis-
understood by others’. His identity, what his place is In the story, ως part in'
the play, cannot be captured 111' any human categories (m'cludm'g the human
category of ‘the gods’). Jesus is' a mystery. In fact, as John came to see and,
at Chalcedon, the Church eventually came to define, Jesus 15' the Word ш'
which the ultimate mystery, God, speaks him'self.
For John, I think, Jesus has no definable place ш' the story because he is
also, 111' some way, author of the story. That 1s' why Flann O’Brien’s At &…" In
Two Birds, ш' which an author comes under criticism and attack by ως
fictional characters, is' essential readm'g for any Christologist.
There is a clear imph‘cation 1n', I think, all the passion narratives that the
mis'understandm'g by Pil'ate is not accidental but mam'pulated by the chief
priests. Their real case against Jesus, it is suggested, has to do with his
claims to forgive smn'ers without the proper religious rituals of repentance,
to be closer to God than is the temple, and so on; but, Since they wanted him
executed, and whll'e religious squabbles ш` the local alien cult would cut no
ice with Pilate, they put the thing In political terms. In a tantalizingly short

paragraph, E. P. Sanders notes that Schweitzer, in his Quest of the H istori -

cal Jesus, had already suggested that

83
 ".…" .8|/|| 1|Μ||νΙ'…

ΠΙ… .httlus lu-ttnyetl (η potttt on which the (iospels are unhelpful)“,

that Jesus щи! his small bantl thought of hint as ‘king' . . .Jtltlas conveyed
.lesus's pretettsion to the ehiel‘ priests . . . it was the Η… weapon they
ιι…-ι|…|: н spt't‘ilit' charge to present to l’ilate, more certain to have {am
effect than the general charge of ‘troublemaker‘. (Sanders, p. 309)

Whether or not this is the case, there remains, I think, a sense in Μπο"…
attempt to «тощий/но Jesus in either political or religious terms is πο……
succeed. The (lospels seem to suggest, at least, that. there is a certain
inevitability here, quite apart from any malicious intention on the part ο…"
opponents of Jesus. It seems to me quite certain that any idea that "ποτε…
simply a lamentable misunderstanding, which could have been avoided Με
little ('lar'ilication, has to be just wrong.
(.‘onsider, for example, the story of the tribute to Caesar. The tribute wag,
naturally, unpopular but especially with the Pharisees who saw it as an insult
to the Lord, the only king of the universe, for his special people to acknow-
ledge the lordship of this primitive idol—worshipper in Rome. So 1f'Jesus had „д
said: ‘Yes, the tribute should be paid’, he would ah'enate true and devout
Jews. On the other hand the Herodians, who were also present, were пот
traditionalist and felt that God’s law would allow them to come to an
accommodation with Caesar for practical purposes; so had Jesus said that
the tribute was not to be paid he would have been speedily reported to the
authorities as a subversive.
Clever; but not so clever as Jesus. In the first place he makes the Η…
produce a сош' with Caesar’s image stamped on it: thus acknowledging that
they are prepared to handle and use an abormn'ation, a graven Με, anidol **
spec1fi'cally forbidden by the Law. But then he says: ‘Render to Caesar the
thm'gs that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s.’
Now, if' he had meant by this' that there are two areas, one the world of .…
coms' and trade and secular life which is the busm'ess of Caesar, and another *
a spiritual realm separate from ως which 15' the preserve of reh'gion and ΄
he would sun'ply have been optm'g for the Herodian side, for they were the, ."-
nearest thing a Jew could get to such a blz'arre idea. (Tlus' is', need I say, the,”
interpretation taken by all modern liberal m'dividualls'ts: churchmen should
not meddle 111' public politics, nor politicians ш' private matters of reh‘gt‘on.~u)s'_
It rru'ght be that Jesus was takm'g this' position: one area of Ше where, ";
held sway and another for Caesar, but it seems unlikely that Με" theology-
as bad as that. More im'portantly, it would not account for the punch-line

84
 (leris/ иш/ I’o/i/irs

the story where it says (in all three synopties) that when they heard his reply
the crowd were astonished at it. If he had opted just for one side of the
argument they might have approved or disapproved but hardly have been
astonished.
I suggest that they were, astonished and perhaps delighted by the
ingenious way Jesus evaded the trap set for him. He, has" devised an
ambiguous answer which could satisfy either party, for what he said could
have another opposite meaning which would be satisfactory to Pharisees.
‘Render to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s’ could also
mean: Caesar, under God of course, is welcome to the rest of the world and
may lay it under tribute, but this land is Eretz Israel and it belongs only to
God and was bestowed by God on his own people, the Jews. This concrete
m'terpretation 15', in fact, much more obvious than the abstract separation of
sacred and secular aspects of human life. It is, of course, one congenial to
the Pharisees rather than the Herodians.
There is, then, no formula within which Jesus and his mission can be
encapsulated. For Luke, remember, his public life begins with the boy who
runs away from home, explaining, when they find him m' the temple, that his
parents did not understand him.
Jesus, then, was not, we may say, interested in politics or ш' acqum'ng
poh'tical power (Jn 6:15 represents him as actively avoiding it), but the
str1k1n"g thm'g 15‘ how very much politicians and others concerned with power
were m'terested in Jesus. ‘The chief priests and pharisees gathered the
councfl and said: “What are we to do? For this man performs many signs. If
we let him go on thus, everyone w1ll' beh'eve in lu'm, and the Romans will
come and destroy both our holy place and our nation’” (Jn 11:47).
The kingdom of God, as Jesus tells Pilate in John’s Gospel, is not ‘of tlu's
world’ but it is nevertheless of great interest and importance to this world,
and more especially if ‘this world’ is' taken in the sense in which it is most
commonly used by John: this corrupt world. This world will hate Jesus and,
so he warns his' followers, it will hate them as well. The preachln'g of the
kingdom of heaven is' threatening to the km'gdom of this world — what John
the Baptist calls ‘the sm' of this world’.
It is tlm'e now to take a quick look at the implications for ecclesiology of
the picture of Chns't that I have been sketching. To try to answer the
question: ‘In What sense was Jesus a political figure?’ is also to point to an
answer to the question: In what sense is the Church a political institution or
related to such Institutions? Sm’ce I am gom’g to restrict myself to the Roman

85
 Η…! Η'… ΜΜΜ…

(‘atholie (‘hurelL I will !……" with a word about what is' called ‘Cathohcfl
social tem'hing'. I do not think that there is a Catholic social κακώς…"
sense that there is an accepted Catholic teaching about, say, the Тиши“ щ-
the lu‘tu-hm‘ist. Instead there have been an important series of απο……-
the part of representative Catholics to contemporary social and ρωτάω…
nations and doctrines. …-
l.et us start, with Μ…… Νουα…… (1891). It has, I think rightly, Ьеепвщ
that Pope Leo XIII did not address the social un"ust1'ces of his day:
already been done by Karl Marx and others. Β…… Novamm was address
centrally to what it described as the ‘socialist’ response to and critique."
liberal capitalism. That liberal capitalism was a disaster for a large μου"
tion of the human race was obvious, and common ground to socialists"!
the Pope. That it was not a natural disaster but one made by human bet
and perhaps curable by human beings was also common ground.
What that highly intelligent and humane man, Leo XIII, saw was that
only serious available critique of the abominations of mn'eteenth—cer'
liberal capitalism was run'eteenth-century socialism and that this' woult
do. For a majority of European socialists, ‘socialis'm’ was an oversmi'p
doctnn'e hopelessly m' thrall to ideas left over from the Enlightenme
particular, the Enlightenment’ 5 view of religion: the odd phenomena?
we should call bourgeois atheism.
Leo’s problem was to preach the gospel m' the face of capitalism n
allowm'g the gospel itself to be oversrm'plifi'ed m' a suml"ar way. It 1
course, because Catholics had been slow to preach the gospel ш' the
capitalism that when they began they found this rival m' the field Μις
be coped with. This' indeed, was the reason why they (or a small пш'
them) began at all. Anyway, whether or not you read Ветт Noam
do, you may perhaps agree that it was a response to concrete сп'сш
rather than the handm‘g down of an already developed traditional
It was simply a matter of preachm'g the gospel as best you can 111'
mm and place.
I do not here want to argue this same pom‘t for the great 3‘
‘social encych‘cals’; but it seems plausible to see Quadmgesimo
rather sun'ilar reaction to the Thut'ies world of fascism, and C
Annus as a response to the collapse of state capitalism 111' East.‘
— or rather, as with Β…… Паштет, а critique of what is' perc
oversun'phfi'ed response (ш' this case of the Western ‘market e-
these events.

86
 Μ…"… like Ht)“ tn !…… lntvllx .Η |…" ……|ν-| wt Η… ,… |*ι!ιυ… &… Η *… "ll

…
«lunrh …… Μπινγκ …. пищи-щи— ,l' ……|ι|, . - t ‚в …… …' …! .ι .
.lmllemte
|…*…|… then, the ltthlt‘l "| thi- l |Η… Μ …. η". ……:'…- ! …' 'η,
men :1 way υ|΄….τ';ιμ|΄Μμ Η"… ‚шиши мм Με. Η… „мы мы. tum |…|ιιιΙ,ιι
Ilttllll‘lllllt'lllt'lllllyH.511]! пиит: η! Α……- ι…ι|-.-| tlu- ιι.…ιι' …! ntlieiuorltlly
t‘hristianity'. 'l'he ('hnreh is seen as |…ι…ιιι.ι…' …… κκ.… … .l ΜΜΜ…" ut" Η…!
which isquite distinct from this …η"… Ήπ- *…. ΜΗ |…… Η… …- чтим not he too
concerned about, this world and its problems l’i't ц Μ…! they ||… by the rules.
the Inemlwrs of the (‘hureh will shortly he ναι…… …… шли Μ΄ Μπιτ»… дин!
inhabiting an altogether better and quite distinct µ…… it is no ищи-т of
the Church to change the world. We need. of mnrse, to νΙι.'ιιιµι- our „пища
|… selves, and this, naturally, involves elunuzing our helum‘mn' „тмин our
neighbours, making sure, that. we treat them with ehnrity nntljnstiee. Η… that,
is a very different matter from trying to bring about ;ι …… мкм order. It. is
an illusion (and perhaps sinful why) to suppose we could do any such
thing.
The world, on this View, is' still in the power of the Prince of this World.
True, he has been cast out of the heavens, where he is no longer the A(.'(,'ll'-l.(.'l'
of humankind and has been replaced there by the Advocate, the Ρε…ι(.:Ιι-ω.
Satan has indeed fallen from heaven, but fallen to earth: an'd all that the.
faithful Chns'tian can expect from this" world is' persecution at the Μας of
his agents. Chns't’s k1n'gdom is' not of this' world and he reigns only in the
hearts of his' faithful, secretly. There w111' be a time when his' kingdom will
become mamf'est, but it is' not yet.
The 1ll'umm'ation I thmk' we might detect in' all this' is‘ a proper scepticrs'm
about the finality of any human aclu'evement. It seems to me that a central
contribution that Chris'tiam'ty makes to our understanding of humankm'd is”
its understandm'g of, and ab111"ty to cope with, failure. From one pom't of
View, this is exactly what the cross is'.
We see th1s' theoretical model concretely represented in the early
monastic movement. Here we had groups of people deciding that the life of
the gospel could not easfl'y, 1f' at all, be h'ved m' the cities. They went out into
the countryside, not because they wanted to be close to ‘nature’, nor because
of its beauty (to which, I nn'agm'e, they were wholly m'diff'erent, 11" not
hostile), but because it was not the city, it was not society. Whether ш' the
unstructured groups of desert fathers, or, m' a diff'erent way, among the Irish
monks, or m' the orgamz'ed communes of continental monastiCIS'm, we find

87
Ha!

Gm] Still Mal/(’22s

the idea that the (‘hrist tan life can best he lived in a Church which ΜΜΜ
native society and an alternative to society.
It is, ω|'ι……ι…-, …… that the great "Μηνιαίο commum'ties ofthe Νεα…"
soon themselves became centres of society; became, in fact, great από…
«(κινηταΗ)… which, by their accumulation of wealth, formed the backbone
of medieval rural capitalism. But by that time the model had changed
somewhat. So the Church as alternative to the world or to society had
respectable and interesting supporters.
I turn, now, to another model, derived, I think, from the first: Μ 15' the
model of the Church itself as model for society. The idea is that, езресшЛу'
in a society consisting largely of Christians, orgam'zations such as ρω"…
or religious communities could be, for example, pioneering testm'g—grormds
for projects of social welfare. This is not an absurd idea for, after all, the
state-run schools and hospitals of modern Europe are directly descended
from such Church activities in the past, as, m'deed, are the universities and
the structures associated with marriage. Whatever we say of …' though, and
however centrally we place the ‘option for the poor’, it 18' hard to see such
good works as the defirun'g function of the Church or its principal relevance
to society and poh'tics.
I would h‘ke to move on to the Η… model: the metaphor of social cement
The Church might be thought to provide the social cohesion upon which, 111' .
the end, society rests. This, too, has a highly respectable and ancient back-
ground. Aristotle seeks to identify the diff'erence between the hnks' Μ… '
be formed between separate states and the bonds which unite the cihzem'oi
the same state. There can be trade agreements and pacts, he says, between
separate states and thelr' m‘dividual members, but no amount of such
contracts wfl'l constitute them as one state or superstate.
The reason Aristotle gives is that the citizens of a state are bound together, …ξ
not fundamentally by commutative justice, fairn'ess and law, but by ΜΜΜ '΄
calls ΜΜΜ, poh'tical friendship, a recogm‘tion that they belong to each other Г
and are responsible for each other. Fn'endslu'p, he Μ…, is“ much more
than mutual benevolence, it m'volves a certam' sharmg', a Κάπο… ш:
Aquinas calls a commum'catio, a shann’g of Me between friends
&

True friendship, moreover, has to be based on more than a

pleasures or of commercial interests, it has to be a …' of the
fundamental human requirement, the Virtu'es. Virtues, for AIM
absolutely necessary (though not a sufficient) condition for
happm'ess; for vu't'ues are just the cluster of και… Μ…" … …, *

88
 (Юг/‚ч! иш/ ГНИ/ник

1'„г|1`\1'пца llmirishing human life. So, unless the rill/pens ……- about and seek
to luster \'ll'lll(‘, and thus happiness, in мм. other and in the ('oluluunily in
general, there is no true po/is: there is just a (των… οί liusinessnien making
holiolll‘.‘tl)lt‘ agreements in order to further their own partieular interests. For
this reason, Aristotle put at the basis ol'the state the kind ol‘eonuuon life that
is e\.'pl‘essetl in festivals and games and cultural life in general, for it is these
things that foster l'riemlship, and, as we should say, a common identity.
Now, if you think that Aristotle has got a point here, then it. will not; he
diflieult. to, so to say, transpose pit/17.1111, fn'endship, into a new key. As Fergus
Kerr has shown, Thomas Aquinas proposed to treat carilas (pn'marily the
love of God for us) on the analogy of philia, (nniritt'a, and not, as genera-
tions of theologians had done, following Augustine, on the analogy of αν"…
the passion of love (Kerr, 1987). Cam'tas means that God shares his life, his
Holy Spirit with us, and that consequently we can share it with each other.
In Aquinas the model for the plan of salvation is the establishment of. a
political commum'ty: but a political commum'ty understood in An'stotelean
(rather than, say, Thatcherite) terms. For Aqum'as the Church is the
sacrament of this commum'ty—m'-chan'ty: as Lumen σα……" put it suc-
cm'ctly, ‘the sacrament of union with God and the unity of humankind’.
The Church, then, is the symbolic v1'sib111"ty of God’s outpouring of the
Sp1r1"t in the world. In the world, please notice, not just among the members
of the Church. The um'ty sacramentally symboh'zed and realized in the
Eucharist is not the …… οί the Church, as such, but of humankind; and it is'
a uru'ty mamf'estly not yet achieved, though to love ш' charity is' to have a
foretaste or ghm'pse of it.
It 15' im'portant to be rather clear about this. What corresponds to the
ρω… without Wlu'ch there can be no true political society, 15' the divm'e
agape, can'tas, that 15' required if there is' ever to be a true humankln'd: that
future …… πι' charity that Will' mark humankm'd’s coming of age. It is not the
um'ty of the Church, for this is simply the sacramental sign of human unity.
What the sacramental Me of the Church is about is the future unity of
humankm'd (and our foretaste of that), not the um'ty of this or that human
society at any point in lus'tory. If the sacramental life is the social cement that
bm'ds together a particular society, it is merely in the way that festivals and
games and a common culture bm'd it together. One concrete exemplar of the
Church as social cement is What we have come to call the ‘establishment’ of
a Church.
We have looked, then, at the Church seen as altemative, as model, and as

89
 (,… Still ΜτΙ/Ν)…"

eelnent for soeiety. Let me turn now to what I see as a more pronu'sm'gmodel
than any of these: the (I‘lnn'eh as кпд/‚1011110, ω society. The parallel between
this 01111…'ι'()|()µν… and the (,‘hristology I sketched earlier Wlll', I hope, be
plain. '|`‹› |)… it simply: (lhrist was not interested 1n" political power, 1m
powerful politieians were very interested in him' because they felt
ened. Similarly, the Church (in its sporadic periods of health) Β' «*:
interested in political power, but these are the very times When those
political power come to take the same k1n'd of hostfle m'terest m' the Church,
When Leo XIII spoke of the market economy of capitalls'm laym'g οπω…μ -
masses ‘a yoke little better than slavery itself’, he spoke from witlun' a moral 3
tradition that has much in' common with the sociah'st moral tradition Μ……
not identical with it. The sociahs't critique of capitalism 15' based on α…;
mentally Aristotelean version of human society, which you can sun'plrfym',ba¢1_fi
sayrn'g that it is about people before it is about products, though it is; ΄
both. The makrn'g of people into commodities was noted by both
and Karl Marx, who acknowledged his debt to Aris'totle more than on»ce«w'.:;;,=i "
The difference is partly one of perspective. The socialist ls' Μοεου8;'Μ…"
doctor who prescribes the right treatment for some baneful
workln'g withm', let us call it, the ‘lu'ppocratic tradition’ Where he. κ……"
craft and science. The socialist, like the doctor, is concerned withap
lar virulent drs'ease — in his case the chronic condition of capitallsnt" H
more concerned with the comm'g of the k1n'gdom of God, or, …'α…,……,
coming of any k1n'd of utopia on earth, than is the doctor with; ; ' *.
patient of death. They are both tackhn'g a specrfi'c job, ΜΜΜ…
a particular juncture m' history.
The preaching of the gospel (although of course it takes ,ώ…,-ω…"
ular juncture m’ lus'tory) has its perspective not on an
particular objective but on the eschato'n, on the ultima'te *
bem'gs and humankind. That is' Why, unlike socialls'm as such-g. …
not a programme for poh'tical action: not because it is' too
or too private, but because it is also a critique of action 1'ts'elf,.r,.a-‘
we must th1n'k on the end. Δ
Central to the gospel 15' the revelation that our 881….'οπ,…'
not by our achievements but by the fall'ure ΨΗΦ- ι8"…
accepted out of Chns't’s lovm'g obedience to lus‘ 1…
`

for love of ms fellow men and women. So If' I

Catholics should support a sociallst' unm'ediate p …; κκ.-. ;… 1 * …
Ι am a Catholic but because I am a sacralist."

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 Christ and Politics

The Christian socialist, as I see her, is more complex, more 1r'om'c, than
her non-Christian colleagues, because her eye is also on the ultimate future,
on the future that is attained by weakness, through and beyond the struggle
to wm' m' this immediate fight. But even short of the eschaton, the Ο…"…
is also more vividly aware not only of the need to avoid uu"ust1'ce m' the fight
for justice (as any rational non-Christian sociahs't would, of course, be) but
also of the need always to crown victory not with triumphalls'm but with for-
giveness and mercy, for only m' tlus' way can the victory won m' tlu's fight
remain' related to the kingdom of God.
Wlthout that opemn'g on to a future (and, as yet, mysterious) destln'y, what
begms' as a local victory for justice becomes, In its turn, yet another form of
dormn'ation, another occasion for challenge and struggle — as we have seen
Με and Με again' In the history of the Church and the hist'ory of all h'ber-
ation movements. Remember that even the capitahs't revolution could once
be regarded rightly as a h'beration struggle.
To return to the Church, the sacrament of the div1n'e hf'e m' humankind.
The sacraments belong, Aquin'as renun'ds us, to the t1m'e between, the epoch
between the cross, on which our salvation was won, and the eschaton, when
the fruits of that great sacnfi'ce of love w1ll' be plainl'y, and not just sacra-
mentally, revealed: when there Will“ be no longer faith but Vls'ion, no longer a
Church but just human bem'gs ш' and through whose human h'ves God wfll' be
mamf'ested, no longer In ah'enated, dis'tant form but m' our own h'ves. God
Will' be all ш' а11. For Aqum’as, the sacramental and all that belongs to religion
and the Church as we know it is' part of the time before that, the tim'e of sm'.
le'e Karl Marx, Aquinas' knew that reh'gious cult belongs to human alien-
ation, and that the passm'g of tlus' alienation would mean the witherln'g away
of the Church. But unhk'e Marx, he knew that the passm'g of this' ah‘enation
needed more than the estabhs'hment of sociahs'm, or even of commums‘m; it
meant a revolution m' our very bodies, a death and resurrection.