by Jennifer Hockenbery
We are nearing the end of the presidential election season and heading towards election day. Many of us are wondering: How do we ground ourselves in our faith as we approach the ballot box?
My polling location is in a Roman Catholic church in De Pere, Wisconsin. On election days, whether the election is for a new seat on the school board or for the President of the United States, the sanctuary doors are left open and the Eucharist is set out for adoration.
The first time I voted in the church, after putting my ballot in the machine in the community room, I wandered into the sanctuary just to sit. I did not feel a need to do a theological disputation about the rights and wrongs of Eucharistic adoration from a Lutheran perspective. In case you are not familiar, Eucharistic adoration is when a priest sets out bread and wine for communion and invites people not to eat or drink but just to sit nearby. There are a host of reasons why many Lutherans roll their eyes at this practice. But, I took it simply as an ecumenical invitation to sit in the presence of Christ with others. The sanctuary was not full, but there were several of us sitting there after casting our ballots. For me, the presence of God’s love was palpable. At every election since, I have become accustomed to sit before and after casting my ballot in this sanctuary. It reminds me that the foundation of my faith is trusting that I am a beloved child of God.
What does it mean to participate politically while remaining mindful of Christian faith? The ELCA’s new social statement, which is going through its last stages of editing, has a lot to say on this question. It says it well, and I encourage everyone to read it as it becomes available. Spoiler alert: the heart of the document is this: The foundation of our faith is that we are called in baptism as beloved children of God and that we are commanded to share that love with our neighbor.
What does this mean on election day? It means that not one of us becomes more holy, more justified, more pure, more Christian, more good based on how we behave on election day. The boxes we check and the political party we join do not help us climb a ladder to heaven or give us a stamp of approval from God. Our value, our status in God’s eyes comes from God’s love for us.
This is why going to church before voting might be helpful. Here is where taking communion or tangibly remembering one’s baptism by dipping one’s finger in the font and crossing one’s forehead can be meaningful. When I sit in the sanctuary next to the Eucharist, I remember that Christ calls me a friend and promises to give me peace and eternal life. I do not earn any of this by voting one way or the other.
Pause and remember that Christ calls you a friend and promises you peace and life. If going to church helps you remember that, go to church before you go to vote. If saying a prayer, singing a hymn, or simply sitting quietly for a moment helps you remember that, do that. Grounding yourself in that faith is the key to voting as a Christian.
Faith that I do not have to and that I cannot possibly earn my status as valuable or holy or Christian releases me from that pressure to earn my justification. Released from this burden, I can let go of all self-righteousness and attend to the commandment God gave all who participate in the Abrahamic traditions to love God with all our hearts and all our minds and all our strength (Deuteronomy 6:5) and love our neighbors as ourselves. (Leviticus 19:18). The ethical rule to love others as one loves oneself appears in other religious traditions too. It is also a rule that kindergarteners seem to know intuitively. There is remarkable consensus amongst human beings across the globe and throughout history that we are to love our neighbors as ourselves.
The Old and New Testaments don’t name all people as equal, however. God commands us especially to care for the marginalized: the poor, the sick, the widow, the orphan, and the migrant (Deuteronomy 10:18, 24:17-22, 26:12-13, 27:19, Proverbs 15:25, Isaiah 1:17, Matthew 25:35; Luke 14:13; and on and on). So, a Christian’s orientation is towards taking special, or preferential, care of the marginalized.
But beyond orientation, Scripture is silent. Which policies will best provide for the poor and the sick and which politician will best care for the migrant and the orphan? Neither Moses nor Jesus advise as to whether the affordable health care act will work better than another plan nor which tax system will best care for the poor. That discernment the individual must do for herself, using reason as best she can.
However well you reason, however you vote, however you lobby, however you act—this will not make you more or less beloved, pious, or righteous. Your vote will get you an “I voted sticker” but it will not get you an “I am Holier than Thou” sticker.
In the quiet of the church sanctuary, on election day, I remember that God’s love is a gift to me. It is not a prize in a voting competition. Remembering this makes me less annoyed when someone comes in with a t-shirt that suggests they are voting for different candidates and policies than I am. Less annoyed, more at peace, more confident in my own status as beloved, I can go out and quietly (or loudly) work for material solutions to material problems in order to serve as best I can my neighbors and all of creation.
I wish each of you peace and confidence as you enter the last few days of this election cycle.
Dr. Jennifer Hockenbery is interim executive director for Women of the ELCA and editor of the Journal of Lutheran Ethics.
Nice!
Thank you, Jennifer. Readers: let’s share this broadly with our friends.
Very well said.