Politics and the pulpit are terms that have little agreement. – Edmund Burke
Faith and politics – they are a dangerous, and frankly unwelcome, combination. So often the voices raised are those from those whose politics are on the right of the spectrum: the religious who want to police people’s bodies, gender identities and sexual orientation and place these things under the banner of ‘sin’; who maintain a white Colonial stance and are active or complicit in the silencing of People of Colour; whose resistance to state assistance for the poor, disabled and sick ranges from simple apathy to active objection; and whose voices are so often raised in manner which silences, ‘others’ and erases those who do not ‘fit’.
I am a Christian – it is a faith associated with a politics that is right-wing, Conservative and frequently oppressive. It would be too easy for me, in the face of right-wing Christian oppression, to say ‘not in my name’ and try to distance myself from those who deal with the consequences of such ideological representations of that faith. It has too often been my stance.
Not any more.
It is no longer good enough for me to say ‘not in my name’ – it has become the same thing now as ‘not all whites are racist’, as though (as a white woman) I am somehow not a part of the colonial, structural oppression which people of colour are still forced to confront every single day. And the inescapable truth is that I am, and no amount of ‘not in my name’ changes that fact.
The same is true of cis-sexism, trans*-misogyny, and abelism and the rhetoric applied to those dependant (to a greater or lesser extent) on state support. It is too much like a cop out now to say that these are oppressions occur, but ‘not in my name’ – I do not believe my responsibility begins and ends with not speaking a racist/homophobic/transphobic/abelist word.
Politics and faith have been a dangerous combination because they have all too often resulted in – and continue to result in – oppression. To live my faith, therefore, means engaging with this politics of oppression. How can I ‘spend myself on behalf of the hungry’, or loosen the yolk of oppression without engaging with politics? I could give money to a charitable cause, sure – by how does that address the cause of the poverty in the first place? I can sign petitions for equality rights for the LGBTIQ community – but does that really help address the societal structures which have led to such injustices taking place?
It may not be true for every person of faith, but my faith cannot exist in a bubble, and it cannot avoid the politics of oppression. Edmund Burke may have been right that, but I doubt in the way he likely meant.