“And if Christ is Lord of lords and King of kings, if he is really the Ruler among the nations, then all nations are in a higher sense one nation, under one King, one law, having one interest and one end. There cannot be two laws for Christians—one to govern the relations of individuals, and the other the relations of nations. I charge you, citizens of the United States, afloat on your wide wild sea of politics, There is another King, One Jesus: the safety of the state can be secured only in the way of humble and whole-souled loyalty to His Person and of obedience to His Law."
- A. A. Hodge
The French essayist Joseph Joubert once quipped that “it is better to debate a question without settling it than to settle a question without debating it.” One should say further that this is considerably more important when questions of the greatest importance are in view, even if it is those questions that cause the greatest controversy. In our mercurial world, one of these contentious questions is that of the relationship between Christianity and politics, between religion and the state.
This particular question is hardly new. From Constantine to Charlemagne, from the Peace of Augsburg to the Peace of Westphalia, and from political theorists such as John Locke, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and John Stuart Mill, the relationship between religion and the state has been a prominent issue. Some argued that religion should be sequestered to one’s private life. Others, such as Ludwig Feuerbach, argued that religion is “the only practical and successful vehicle for politics.” The question has been, likewise, explored in our American context. The competing interests of the ministers of Massachusetts Bay and Roger Williams in the seventeenth century, or the nineteenth-century debate between the so-called “Amendmentists,” namely the National Reform Association and the Liberal League, are examples of this question.
In the last three years, there has been, in no uncertain terms, an interest in retrieving an older theological heritage, a “Reformed statecraft.” The buzzwords associated with this retrieval are ‘Christian Nationalism’ and ‘Establishmentarianism,’ with the latter generally being a theological constituent part of the former. The former has become so broadly defined that it is arguably an unhelpful appellation. For instance, in Ross Douthat’s recent New York Times article, he identifies four ways in which the term Christian Nationalism is employed. This has led to poor argumentation, and as Charles Dickens once said, “If the defendant be a man of straw, who is to pay the costs?” There is, therefore, cause to consider what these terms mean so as to encourage greater understanding about the current political and theological discourse. For our purposes in this brief article, we shall not explore the question of nationalism, though the issue is not foreign to our modern Reformed tradition. Geerhardus Vos spoke positively of nationalism, saying that “nationalism, within proper limits, has the divine sanction,” and that “attempt[s] at world-power” are against “the voice of prophecy,” not only “as is sometimes assumed, because it threatens Israel, but for the far more principal reason, that the whole idea is pagan and immoral.” We shall, rather, explore that which is more obviously aligned with a Reformed statecraft, namely, establishmentarianism.
When human autonomy is coupled with a vague “pursuit of happiness,” society will inexorably tend toward chaos.
In Reformed Presbyterian circles, there has been a notable reticence to return to the question of church and state ever since the debates over theonomy in the 1970s through the 1990s. However, for the sake of clarity and Christian witness, we must thoughtfully and charitably explore the issue. The obvious reason that this is required is that, in the midst of the culture war, commentators have signaled that “the nation is awash in religiosity,” as an op-ed in the New York Times put it. Perhaps, one might say, with a Jeffersonian spirit, that there is a deep concern about religious values coming to bear on the goings-on of the political sphere. For example, Linda Greenhouse recently asserted in her New York Times article on the Alabama Supreme Court ruling that the country is now coming to a greater realization of “the peril of the theocratic future toward which the country has been hurtling.” The task before us is thus a foray into an issue that is politically charged, debated vigorously within the church, and ambiguous in its terms. But it is, at the same time, an inquiry into that which is “true, honorable, and just” (Phil. 4:8).
What is ‘Establishmentarianism’? In plain terms, it is the teaching that the civil magistrate should recognize “God, the supreme Lord and King of all the world” (WCF 23.1). This involves the magistrate supporting and fostering the visible church within its geographical jurisdiction for the promotion of true religion. On this view, there are two errors that are to be avoided. First is the Erastian error, which arises when the civil magistrate acts beyond the power corresponding to his magistracy. For example, the civil magistrate “may not assume to themselves the administration of the Word and sacraments; or the power of the keys of the kingdom of heaven; or, in the least, interfere in matters of faith” (WCF 23.3). Second is the error of Rome, which is where the church unduly superintends upon the civil magistrate, usurping its ordained authority, and consequently hinders its function. In contradistinction to these views, the church and state are argued to be coordinate powers, and, as such, have unique proximate ends that notwithstanding, by virtue of their coordination, coincide in their ultimate ends. The civil magistrate is, “as [a] nursing father…” and is to “protect the church of our common Lord” (WCF 23.3), and thereby “countenance and maintain” the church (WLC, Q.191).
A significant majority of 16th and 17th-century Reformers have articulated and defended this understanding of the divinely sanctioned duties of the civil magistrate. One of the chief passages in their argumentation was Romans 13:1–4, which reads,
Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment. For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad. Would you have no fear of the one who is in authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive his approval, for he is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant [διάκονός] of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer.
In seventeenth-century England, divines such as Anthony Burgess argued that Romans 13 is “the Magistrate’s Magna Charta…his Commission sealed from heaven, whereby he may be encouraged to goe through his office, [which is] his Calling of God, who hath a peculiar providence over such.” It is vital that the magistrate recognizes this, for just as “the eclipse of the Sun makes a great deale of motion and alteration in things below, so any eclipse in those that are in Authoritie and Government workes great but sad effects in inferiours.” Thus, when civil magistrates do not readily consult that which “God and his Word speaketh,” but follow instead “maximes and principles of State,” there will be ramifications for the subjects of that kingdom or nation. A coherent two-fold polity requires both the church’s prophetic witness and the magistrates’ enforcement of the law.
One might say that it is only natural that English theologians held such views. After all, the Protestant church in England was, at the outset, connected to the Crown. However, should one sail across the English Channel to the Continent, they would find figures such as Petrus Van Mastricht, Franciscus Junius, and Francisco Turretini, all of whom proffered similar arguments. Van Mastricht, who is worth quoting at length, says,
Magistrates, who should know theology and should have the law before their eyes (Deut. 17:18–20; Josh. 1:8; Psalm 19), prescribe it for their subordinates (2 Chron. 17:7–9; Josh. 24:14), protect it against enemies, as nursing fathers of the church (Isa. 49:23; 60:16), and as guardians of both tables of the law, propagate it (Gen 18:19). In sum, they should, in all ways, kiss Christ (Ps. 2:10–12), so that their polity becomes a theocracy, that is, a Christocracy.
Countless other theologians from the 16th and 17th centuries could be referenced to support the notion of establishment, including 17th-century American theologians. It is, however, not merely individuals who can be cited, but consensus documents, namely confessions, which codified this idea. Indeed, one can point to many confessions of the period, including the Westminster Standards, the Second Helvetic Confession, the Belgic Confession, and the Thirty-Nine Articles. At least one reason why arguments for establishment were so prevalent is because of a principle that was fundamental to the Reformation itself: the word of God regulates all of life. All human life was argued to be under the authority of Scripture. Thus, when it was seen that the Scriptures note particular duties and articulate an ideal for kings, emperors, and magistrates, whom the Reformers understood to be public persons, these were thought to have an obligation and duty to abide by the moral law and refrain from acting, either privately or publicly, in such a way that contravenes that law. Scripture states that “it is an abomination to kings to commit wickedness: For the throne is established by righteousness” (Prov. 16:12). Indeed, the Lord is the keeper of the city (Ps. 127:1), and should that city not honor him, it “shall be utterly wasted” (Isa. 60:12). As Edward Reynolds wrote, “It would infinitely conduce to the peace of the Church and State, to the honour of Religion and justice, and to the avoiding of envy or scandal, if every person…would regulate all his demeanours and administrations with a Quid requisivit, [namely] what is it that God would have me to do?”
One need only be half-cognizant to see, however, that the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries are markedly different politically than, say, America is today. But, at the same time, it must be said that the Puritans of England became, as it were, the Puritans of New England. As the English poet George Herbert said, “Religion stands on tip-toe in our land / Readie to passe to the American strand.” The Mayflower Compact (1620) says that their efforts were “for the glory of God, and advancement of the Christian faith ... [to] covenant and combine ourselves together into a civil body politic, for our better ordering and preservation and furtherance of the ends aforesaid…” This sentiment was later echoed by others, such as theologian John Cotton (1585–1652), who said that “these plantations be planted by God.” Many of the Puritans who traveled to America had a “sacred vision of human progress.”
At a basic level, … the church is to be active in translating the teaching of the Scripture to every context of life, including politics.
Moreover, one might wager that despite the material differences, the substance is very much the same. What is meant is that while there is not a formally established religion in America, there is nonetheless an “established” religion. How can this be true? The answer to that question is found in the basic facts of human existence. If human creatures are made in the image of God and are created for religious fellowship, then there are, necessarily, eschatological and religious ends which are intrinsic to, and determinative of, human existence. There is no politics, indeed, no knowledge, detached from this reality. In this way, as all people are inherently religious, all societies and all politics are necessarily and inescapably religious. Thus, at least in principle (as it is often said), the question is not whether there is an establishment, but which one.
And the facts are before our eyes. The recent cultural shift has been nothing but palpable, and behind this shift is an ideology that is actively shaping legislation, views of human nature, civic duties and freedoms, and the meaning and purpose of human life. The Christian church and American society no longer share common values or a broadly common religion; the church that was once prominent in the public square has been replaced by the synagogue of Satan, which has its own sacraments, such as abortion and “love wins” creeds. Is this what Friedrich Nietzsche had in view when speaking of the “freedom of the new dawn”? When human autonomy is coupled with a vague “pursuit of happiness,” a phrase which, as Malcolm Muggeridge noted, “is responsible for a good part of the ills and miseries of the modern world,” society will inexorably tend toward chaos. Humankind’s happiness, its beatitude, is found only in the God who made the world ex nihilo. “A Common-wealth is made glorious when it becometh holy and Christian,” says Anthony Burgess. Likewise, when a given society unabashedly repudiates the natural law and the plain teaching of the Scriptures, that society will become treacherous and evil. “Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people” (Prov. 14:34).
But what does this mean for our current moment? Shall we, at this juncture, legally establish the Christian religion in America? Is there something to glean from our forefathers? Some Christians argue that we ought not to concern ourselves at all with the goings-on of the political world. Are we not awaiting heavenly Jerusalem, a new heaven and new earth? We most certainly are, and eagerly so, but while we long heavenward, we nonetheless have earthly duties. We do not so set our minds on heavenly things (Col. 3:1–2) that we do not pray for our earthly rulers (1 Tim. 2:2), or render unto them that which ought to be rendered (Matt. 22:21), or do not submit to their governance as they support good conduct and punish evil (Rom. 13:3). Indeed, we still have a neighbor to love and friend or colleague to whom we should minister (Matt. 22:36–40). In other words, to borrow the language of Augustine and Calvin, remote ends do not destroy proximate ends, when rightly ordered. We ought not to embrace a kind of political gnosticism.
“...while we long heavenward, we nonetheless have earthly duties.”
Thus, the first and most important thing that the church can and should do in our current moment is be a bold prophetic witness. What does this mean? At a basic level, it means that the church is to be active in translating the teaching of the Scripture to every context of life, including politics. In this way, Christians can—and should—be political. If there are policies that are sinful, the Christian ought to oppose them, for love “rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth” (1 Cor. 13:6). As Westminster’s Paul Woolley remarked in his radio address, Our American Christian Future, “[We] must not remain content with never having anything but the foundations of Christianity…[We] must present a gospel which says something about every sphere of human activity, that has bearing upon all of life, that comes to the secularized man where he now is and says, ‘Look what can be done with politics…’” Thus, politics, too, should be sanctified unto God, for “there is no realm of life which is exempt from the applicability of Scripture.”
Another concern about the intersection between religion and politics is that of the separation of church and state, which is often misunderstood. But given those facts which are basic to human existence, religion, then, is in politics insofar as man is in society. In his essay published in the Presbyterian Guardian entitled “The Christian World Order,” John Murray offers a principled argument against a complete separation of church and state, saying that a “Christian world order embraces the state. Otherwise, there would be no Christian world order.” He then maintains,
The Bible is the only infallible rule of conduct for the civil magistrate in the discharge of his magistracy just as it is the only infallible rule in other spheres of human activity… this just means that the obligation and task arising from Christ’s kingship and headship are that civil government, within its own well-defined and restricted sphere, must in its constitution and in its legislative and executive functions recognize and obey the authority of God and of His Christ and thus bring all of its functions and actions into accord with the revealed will of God as contained in His Word… To recede from this position or to abandon it, either as conception or as a goal, is to reject in principle the sovereignty of God and of His Christ…
Murray concludes this essay with an exhortation regarding the “philosophy of Christian world order,” saying,
Who is sufficient for these things? We are indeed totally insufficient and the task is overpowering. But this overpowering sense of our weakness and inability is no reason for faintheartedness. It is rather the very condition of true faith and perseverance. The responsibility is ours: it is stupendously great. The insufficiency is ours: it is complete. But the power is God’s.
Indeed. As Thomas Goodwin once remarked, “They that will reforme a Church or State, must trust more in God in doing it, than in any work else.”
How then shall we live? The Christian today should recognize that religion and society are inseparably tied together. When we think about Christianity’s encounter with modern culture, we must at the outset remain true to the commission that we have received from our risen King and Lord Jesus Christ. If we are to reform a society, we must see that spiritual reformation is necessary for true and lasting cultural reformation. As Edward Reynolds said, “It is not enough for the honour and security of a Kingdome that justice be in the Laws; it must be in the Judges too…” He continues, “Take away the Sun, and all the Stars of Heaven would never make day: So if a man…were destitute of faith in Christ, the Sun of righteousness, have not God for his God, there would be night and calamity in his soul still.” Thus, without the spiritual reformation of individuals, even those in places of authority, there will not be true civil reformation. This means that now, in volatile times and with profound opposition, the church cannot, must not, capitulate. Cowardice must not masquerade as wisdom. Now is the time, by the grace of God, to stand fortified as a “pillar and bulwark of the truth” (1 Tim. 3:15).
J. Gresham Machen once remarked that “The Christian cannot be satisfied so long as any human activity is either opposed to Christianity or out of all connection with Christianity. Christianity must pervade not merely all nations, but also all of human thought.” Thus, our prayer should be that the gospel will resound to the ends of the earth, and not just resound, but renew every nation of the earth, that the peoples of this earth might proclaim that Jesus Christ is King of kings and Lord of lords, so that all of life may be lived unto Him. As Machen argued in Christianity and Culture, “Instead of obliterating the distinction between the kingdom and the world, or on the other hand withdrawing from the world into a sort of modernized intellectual monasticism, let us go forth joyfully, enthusiastically to make the world subject to God.” It is therefore most fitting to conclude with a passage from the American theologian, John Davenport (1597–1670):
What I pray may be expected in future times, if the best Church, and the best Common-wealth grew up together? Oh blessed people, among whom each Administration shall conspire with one mouth, and one minde, to conjoyn and advance the Communion of Saints with the Civil Society! One of these Administrations will not detract from the other, but each will confirm the other if it stand, and stay it if it be falling, and raise it up if it be fallen down.