Yesterday, I described how politics and the nation state have warped and twisted the Christian psyche. Politics has become an unhealthy cathexis, a morbid fixation.
If that's the case, what might a more healthy relationship with the state look like?
One answer comes from "A Letter to Diognetus," a piece of early Christian apologetics from the second century. In the letter, the author describes how Christians relate to the nation states in which they dwell:
Christians are indistinguishable from other men either by nationality, language or customs. They do not inhabit separate cities of their own, or speak a strange dialect, or follow some outlandish way of life. Their teaching is not based upon reveries inspired by the curiosity of men. Unlike some other people, they champion no purely human doctrine. With regard to dress, food and manner of life in general, they follow the customs of whatever city they happen to be living in, whether it is Greek or foreign.
And yet there is something extraordinary about their lives. They live in their own countries as though they were only passing through. They play their full role as citizens, but labor under all the disabilities of aliens. Any country can be their homeland, but for them their homeland, wherever it may be, is a foreign country.
This, it seems to me, is a healthy and proper emotional relationship to the state and politics. As citizens we "play our full role." We pay taxes. We vote. And yet, the nation in which we live is not our homeland, we dwell here as if living in a foreign country. Christians live in their nation as if we are only passing through.
"This world is not my home, I am just passing through..." I grew up and was shaped by this theology. In many ways, mostly in the sense of learning to recognize the impermanence of things, I find this theology helpful. However, my kids are awakening me to ways it has been harmful, mostly to this planet. A theology that holds this world is not our home has resulted in the destruction of old growth forests, salmon runs and every shrinking glaciers. Too often we have believed this world is not our home forgetting that it will be the home of those who come after us. So, I wonder I would like to hear a balance to this theological scale. How do we hold this world loosely, yet lovingly?