Speak out for those who cannot speak,
for the rights of all the destitute.
Speak out, judge righteously,
defend the rights of the poor and needy.
In general, the contribution of the sapiential tradition to biblical politics is insufficiently appreciated. Few scholars (notable in this regard are James Barr and James L. Crenshaw) have pointed to the importance of the wisdom writings in a comprehensive understanding of biblical theology. Within contemporary thought, these writings remind us of the importance of rigorous intellectual scrutiny as a restraint on sectarian fanaticism and parochial bias. It would be difficult to conceive of the process that led to the composition of the founding documents of the United States without the presence of the sage advice of Benjamin Franklin and James Madison, thinkers steeped in eighteenth-century equivalents of the biblical sapiential tradition, namely, English Deism and French philosophy. We have also noted how Nelson Mandela, while acknowledging his indebtedness to prophetic tradition, also drew freely on pre-Christian tribal custom, thereby exercising the openness of one who could recognize divine truth beyond the borders of explicitly Christian culture.
Closely related to the sapiential model, though at the same time distinct from it because of its explicitly Jewish orientation, is the accommodationalist model that we associate with Ezra and Nehemiah. It grew out of the Jewish experience during the Second Temple period of living no longer as an independent nation able to address the relation of religion and politics free from outside intervention, but as a vassal state under the firm control of the Persians. It amounted to the working out of a compromise that conformed to the imperial conditions of a foreign occupier at the same time as it permitted the Jews to remain faithful to their Torah and their native customs. This model became vitally important in subsequent ages of Judaism, for not only in the Persian period, but during the Hellenistic and Roman periods and on into the Middle Ages the Jewish communities in the Diaspora were obliged to continue to adjust their lives to the hegemony of foreign rulers. And when it comes to the question of the legacy of Ezra’s model for contemporary theo-political reflection, we do well to consider John Howard Yoder’s suggestion that for the Christian who would be true to the politics of Jesus and Paul, the Jewish diaspora model can serve as a chastening corrective to the Constantinian model of Christian imperialism.15
The sixth political model found in the Bible is the apocalyptic model. It arises as an adaptation of prophetic faith to the bleak setting of persecution where the faithful suffer at the hands either of their own compatriots or foreign adversaries. The floruit of apocalyptic politics occurred between the second century BCE and the end of the second century CE, and its literary expressions in the Bible are most notably Daniel and the book of Revelation. This political model has been of vital importance in modern times for Christian communities suffering under religious persecution, such as Jewish communities and the Confessing Church in Nazi Germany. It gives expression to the central confession of biblical politics, namely, that there is but one ultimate Ruler of the universe and that no human ruler has the right to demand the unqualified allegiance of his subjects. It upholds the belief that in the final verdict, the moral structure of the universe will be maintained and all those who have been sentenced unjustly in world courts will be vindicated in the divine court of justice. The visions of the apocalyptic writings depict God’s final victory over all opposition and function to preserve the hope of the faithful, even in the face of a world that seems to have come under the control of the Evil One and its hosts.
For the majority of Christians in the world today who enjoy the protection of freedom of belief under the laws of their states, apocalyptic politics is not as politically relevant as the prophetic model, inasmuch as their situation allows them to seek to reform their societies on the basis of God’s rule of justice and mercy. In other words, the temporary withdrawal from political engagement provided by the apocalyptic model would be inappropriate. It is within such settings that the Christian must scrutinize the arbitrary application of apocalyptic politics by such sensationalist authors as Hal Lindsay and Timothy LaHay. To demonstrate that their sectarian, death-wish theology is heretical would require more time than we have at present.16
Equally impossible would be the next important step, namely, a discussion of the politics of the New Testament, for it should be obvious that for Christians, the vital lessons of the six Old Testament models are mediated to us through the politics of Jesus and the apostles.
Here we must limit our observations regarding the vast topic of politics in the New Testament to a few essentials. First, it is as important to understand the background of these writings in the Roman Empire as it was to understand the various historical settings of the Old Testament within a world dominated in turn by Egypt, Assyria, Babylonia and Persia, for the dynamic historical understanding that began with the exodus continues into New Testament times, as does the fundamental belief that there is but one absolute Ruler of the universe before whom this world’s potentates are mere passing shadows. What this means is that political strategies will continue to avoid static imposition of a timeless blueprint and instead justify political positions on the basis of the criterion of their adequacy in representing God’s governance of justice and mercy within specific historical and geographical settings.
In the case of Jesus portrayed in the Gospels, we find a politics of critical engagement with the Roman and Jewish leaders, and the uncompromising insistence on the sole Lordship of the heavenly Father. Since the courageous witness of Jesus threatened both the Roman control of a rebellious, sprawling empire and the Jewish leaders deadly fear of any movement that could become the catalyst of revolt, it was unavoidable that Jesus took his place in the line of witnesses to God’s sovereignty whom the rulers of this world sought to silence. The centrality for faith of this particular martyr lies in the fact that vindication of the bearer of divine justice and mercy came on the third day after his crucifixion, and thus established like never before for the faithful the basis for their vocation of bearing witness in the world to the only ultimate government, God’s government and the reign of his Son.
Jesus’ political position embodied the dialectic of God’s ultimate ruling authority and the derived, penultimate rule of humans. Let us consider two examples from the Gospels.
In relation to the Roman emperor, the classic formulation is “Render to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s” (Matthew 22:15–22 // Mark 12:13–17 // Luke 20:20–26). Against the background of the politics of the entire Bible, believers then and now hear what the Romans would not have heard, namely, that everything is ultimately God’s, and therefore what will be rendered to Caesar will be what God has delegated to earthly rulers. Added to this is the defining qualification that their legitimacy remains intact only to the extent that they promote the universal justice and mercy of God.
Since divine justice and mercy were more often violated than upheld by the Romans, the question of fitting response was especially difficult for Jesus and his followers. Enormous pressure was placed on them to follow the path of the Zealots and the Sicarii of open revolt. But it is clear that Jesus regarded such a suicide tactic as a form of idolatry, that is, placing nationalistic goals over the purposes of God’s kingdom. Patience and suffering constituted the truthful path to “thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
In relation to the claim that religious institutions and authorities hold over those who have submitted to the rule of God, the classic story revolves around the half-shekel temple tax (Matthew 17:24–27). Should the disciples pay it, and thereby acknowledge the authority over them of the temple administrators, or should they assert their true spiritual citizenship by refusing to pay, thereby raising the specter of violence? The path of submission placed in jeopardy their sole allegiance to God. But violence was not the way to the Kingdom taught by their Lord. The story has an ending that exquisitely upholds the dialectic of biblical politics: Not the disciples, but a fish pays the temple tax! Covenant fidelity and political pragmatism are simultaneously commended through a story that like Aesop’s fables proves that animals often are our most subtle teachers!
The political position of the Apostle Paul is even more complex, and many fine monographs in recent years have challenged older assumptions.17 At the heart of the controversy is Romans 13, a key