My family and I live in France, and we’ve found that this culture has a beautiful perspective on relationships. In French culture you can spend hours visiting with someone and they won’t ever ask, “What do you do for work?” Isn’t that often the first question we in the United States ask someone? And at first, it seemed that the French were disinterested in us. However, the underlying assumption is that we are not identified by our work but by everything else we do with our time.
We’ve also learned that it is culturally taboo to discuss who you may vote for or even your political positions. Don’t ask, don’t tell. It can be hard to imagine for an American, but one just doesn’t encounter it. If one is not connected to social networks, one would be oblivious that French elections are occurring. The cultural aversion is so permeating that political matters altogether disappear from conversations and dialogue.
This approach can be refreshing since the exact opposite can be said about the culture of political expression in the U.S. It’s disconcerting when our family reinserts into American culture, even if just for a few weeks or months, that one of the primary means of truly knowing someone seems dependent on who they vote for or what their position is on the hot topics de jour. It distorts a person’s identity and value.
Peace regardless of cost
Considering the cultural and social water in which we swim in the U.S., is French culture healthy when it comes to political dialogue? I’ve concluded that even though conflict may not appear to be present, neither is real peace. Peace and unity are preserved at all costs, regardless of the cost.
There is a veneer of unity that functions to silence conflicting views much like in Jeremiah 6.14: “They dress the wounds of my people as though it were not serious. ‘Peace, peace,’ they say, when there is no peace.”
I describe the political climate in France as one that ignores or makes light of conflicting opinions or views. In such an environment, peace is weaponized so that minority opinions are silenced. So, while it may be convenient to evade difficult conversations, injustice comes to the cultural minority. Perhaps the price is paid by legal immigrants buried in intentional institutional and bureaucratic confusion or by racism toward minorities who have little recourse for justice.
In France, one’s political positions are irrelevant because the goal is to maintain peace at the cost of potential injustice. In the U.S., our identities are deformed by a political position. Say your church is asking for volunteer help serving meals to the homeless. If I say “no” for whatever reason, life goes on as normal. However, if I share that I have decided not to vote in a political decision or election, wouldn’t I likely encounter a gaze of shame for my civic indifference? In reality, doesn’t volunteering locally carry far more potential for impact than a single vote among potentially millions? Can a balance be achieved?
The way things ought to be
I am convinced Jesus was political because politics is defined as the way societies and people structure themselves, function, make decisions, distribute resources and care for people as a whole. A biblical term that might be helpful to use is “shalom,” simply defined as the way things ought to be. However, the term shalom encompasses more than politics alone.
The pursuit of shalom—peacemaking—must be accompanied by peace-breaking. I describe peace-breaking as the call to confront false ideas of peace, truth, justice and goodness that do not stand on biblical truths. Every time Jesus liberates or frees someone it undermines political and religious systems of the day. It mocks or undermines those who control the systems of power or money and is seen as transgressing the religious or political powers. The book of Acts is essentially a succession of one street riot after another. The ground must be shaken before true shalom is restored. Powers will not come down without a fight, so to speak.
I believe our best engagement in politics as a disciple of Christ is to focus on a local level, a human level, that of our neighbors.
But those Jesus sets free or the riots that take place never impose on the way of life on a national scale. They are unique to a localized group or a person. The difficulty with politics on a large scale is that it presumes that one can understand all the nuanced elements of the present and the past that contribute to the changing tides of economic, social and cultural trends and furthermore, espouse the certitude of proposed remedies. Even if this were possible, each person’s vision of how things ought to be, of shalom, are different. My neighbor does not share my values and therein lies the real challenge we are called to address: loving our neighbors.
2 Timothy 2.4 says, “No one serving in the army gets entangled in everyday affairs; the soldier’s aim is to please the enlisting officer.” Our neighbors cannot be conscripted into the army by coercion. They must enlist, a choice of the will. The politics of Jesus primarily addresses those who have the eyes and ears to understand—their heart and motivation. I believe our best engagement in politics as a disciple of Christ is to focus on a local level, a human level, that of our neighbors.
Salt and light
If the church desires the world to share its vision for shalom, it certainly cannot do so by force. Titus 2.7-8 says by “offering yourself as a model of good works and in teaching offering integrity, gravity and sound speech that cannot be censured, then any opponent will be put to shame, having nothing evil to say of us.”
When others confront the truths of Scripture, they may lash out. Proverbs 14.29 says, “One who is slow to anger has great understanding, but one who is quick-tempered exalts foolishness.” Like Jesus, we absorb the offense because we love even those who hate the Christ-like position. We cannot win the ear of another if we don’t take time to listen to and understand their perspective, being curious and generous. The French can grow to learn how to open up dialogue in the face of disagreement. Americans can grow to learn grace and generosity towards those with different perspectives.
The Christian engagement in politics is not legislating theology, but pursuing a politic that prevents evil. We cannot coerce people to act like Christians, but we should be working to reveal to others the beauty and shalom that exists in communities of disciples of Jesus. We are to be salt and light. Light to shine out. And salt that has to be mixed into the soup of culture.
The Christian has a role to play in the face of injustice, whether social or political, being humble and winsome in shalom’s pursuit. ”Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe,” says Hebrews 12.28. As believers in contexts more corrupt and unjust than France or the U.S. often testify, no political context or whirlwind can rob the disciple of Jesus of their identity as ambassadors of the unshakeable kingdom of God.
Paul Raugust lives with his wife, Sara, and family in France where they work alongside a local French Mennonite church to catalyze spiritual growth, whole-life discipleship, leadership development and holistic church planting among the North African, Turkish and immigrant population.
