On Pitchforks and Politics
"If I had a Million Dollars," I wouldn't be sittin' under this tree, waitin' for a bus.
Ajijic, Jalisco, Mexico, March 2019
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The
wealth of the rich is their fortified city, but poverty is the ruin
of the poor. (Proverbs 10:15)
How
poor do you have to be to be poor? How rich do you have to be
to be called wealthy?
Type
the words poor and
poverty into the
search engine on a Bible website like Bible Gateway
and you’ll leave with the impression that the wealth/poverty
tension is not only present from Genesis to Revelation, but that it’s
one of its central themes.
Granted,
we have all kinds of conventional wisdom about the obvious, which is
that there have always been rich people who are able to luxuriate in
the freedom excessive means provide, and there have always been a
vast majority preoccupied with scraping together the bare necessities
of survival.
“Money
can’t buy happiness.” Who said that, and if it’s true, why do
the bulk of our dreams and striving have to do with becoming
well-off? Why do Christians—who have been thoroughly taught by
their holy scriptures about the folly of resting hope on wealth—still
buy lottery tickets at the same rate as the general public?
A
ready answer to that question comes to mind: in dangerous times we
sleep better if the windows and doors of our houses are strong,
secure. A surplus of cash also reduces anxiety, like window bars.
And although scriptures urge us not to be anxious about where our
food and shelter will come from (Matthew 6:24), I’ve met very few people who
actually demonstrate a trusting attitude that reaches that far.
Staying
Biblical for the moment, it’s not hard to find other great themes:
justice and mercy, humility and generosity, patience and forbearance, for instance.
Is poverty in the midst of abundance not first and foremost a symptom
of injustice? If not,
then what does justice
actually mean? Is a system that allows some to become wealthy on the
backs of labourers who remain poor not a symptom of an absence of
mercy, of justice
perverted?
And
if that’s true, is it not obvious that our democracies are failing
to realize what Pierre Trudeau called “The Just Society?”
It’s
no accident that the Protestant Reformation and the Peasant Uprisings
in Europe happened simultaneously. To read the gospel for the first
time had to have revealed the injustices of the feudal system, had to
have laid bare the folly of the church’s participation in a cruel,
merciless, unjust politic. Some would say the choice of defying an
unjust authority with pitchforks and rakes was simply stupid, but
then we’re faced with the question: What other choices did hungry
peasants have at their disposal?
The
feudal system of land ownership and use is long gone, of course. But
as we are made aware daily, “the poor you have with you always” (Matthew 26:11) seems to persist as a truism (even though we generally misinterpret
Jesus’ intent with that statement.)
We
live in a very different time; the cries for justice persist,
however. The gap between the wealthy and the middle and lower classes
is growing, and since wealth confers power, the prospect of
meaningful change is probably as illusive as it was when Thomas
Müntzer
led an ill-fated army of Christian peasantry against the stronghold
and the army of Frankenhausen in 1525. 5,000 peasants died in that
battle; hardly a soldier of the prince’s army was injured.
It’s
high time that the church reconsider it’s role in dismantling the
unjust systems of our day. Pitchforks and rakes won’t be part of
our efforts toward promoting justice, but the example of Christ is,
after all, a formidable force.
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