Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Our heritage of religious freedom (1976)

The Rodda Project: The Special Importance of our Heritage of Religious Freedom

General Assembly Meeting
Church Service Bureau


May 11, 1976

In this Bicentennial Year it is important, I think, for all citizens to stop for a moment and reflect about its significance. As I have done so, I have been impressed with the fact that the colonial struggle for independence from England not only created a new nation, constituted as a federal union which acknowledged the independence of the member states, but also incorporated into the Constitution the basic principle of the separation of church and state and a guarantee of the religious freedom of the individual. As the Constitution of the nation has developed, this concept has been more completely fashioned into the character of American life until today it has become one of the most unique qualities of our society and to the founding fathers we owe, therefore, a significant debt of gratitude. Those of us who cherish freedom of religious conscience should appreciate the significance of this heritage and struggle to preserve it.

Perhaps, one of the aspects of the history of western civilization which has most impressed me, as a student of history, has been the tendency of people to utilize the secular power of the state to establish the supremacy of their particular interpretation of the meaning of God and of their particular religious faith or theology. Because this struggle has been so characteristic of world history, it has significantly impressed thoughtful scholars, and most of those who have applied rational thinking to that experience have generally concluded that freedom of religious thought is extremely important.

Voltaire, an 18th century French Deist, who experienced religious persecution in France and fled to England, where he resided for a short period of time, fully recognized the importance of this concept to both the individual and society. His experience prompted him to observe in his Philosophical Letters, No. VI:

“If there were just one religion in England, despotism would threaten; if there were two religions, they would cut each other's throats; but there are thirty religions and they live together happily.”
We today can continue to learn from that observation and also from the study of our own history and that of world civilization. But we will learn only if our study enables us to accept the concept of cooperation among different religious faiths and within those faiths, predicating that spirit of cooperation and acceptance upon the admission or recognition that all of the great religions have much in common.

I can recall reading, for example, that Socrates charged his fellow Athenians in the 5th century B.C. to take care of their souls and to cultivate their minds and their sense of morality so that they might see and appreciate what was good and to direct their whole lives in accordance with the ideal of goodness. Life, he observed, was not to be nothing more than a cog in a machine, but it was to achieve good and the proper care of the soul, which meant the exercise of self-control, the attainment of moral autonomy, and individual emancipation from physical and external circumstances. Socrates was convinced that the most important knowledge was that which was concerned with those ends of life which were moral, and that when a man fulfilled supremely the commands of moral knowledge, he was doing more than that, he was acting divinely, acting as a god should act. In effect, Socrates exalted many of the ethical values that are identified with Christianity—temperance, justice, courage, nobility and truth.

The spiritual quality of this thought prompted Erasmus, two thousand years later, in a moment of religious fervor, to exclaim, “Pray for us, St. Socrates.”

And while Socrates, the Athenian stoic, was reaching such a conclusion, the Jewish people were bringing into existence, Judaism, the world's first monotheistic religion which has survived into contemporary times. It was a religion in which God, the creator, was conceived as both righteous and merciful. David Flusser, a well-known Jewish scholar in an essay entitled “Jesus in the Context of History,” argues convincingly that during the life of Jesus the essential message of the Mosaic Law was well established to be that one should love one's neighbor. It was a commandment to the Jewish people which was in complete accord with the principal admonition of Jesus when he observed in Matthew 7:12, that “whatever you wish that men would do to you, do so unto them. For this is the law of the Prophets."

The reason for this observation is briefly to indicate that the basic value of Christianity is to be found also in the teachings of Judaism. In a substantive way, of course, Christianity departed from the essential ideas of Judaism, since the Christian view of Jesus Christ as God was not and is not acceptable to the Jewish people. The Judaic and Christian churches interpret the nature of God differently, but they agree on the significance of the existence of God and of God's spiritual message to mankind.

Perhaps, this sharing of an essential value is becoming more clearly appreciated by Christians and by those who are of the Judaic faith, and it is important that this understanding become more widespread.

As I make this observation, I am prompted to recall the circumstances which developed as a consequence of my nomination of a Buddhist to be Chaplain of the Senate. Immediately thereafter I began receiving controversial correspondence which reflected a strong determination on the part of some Christians to force the Senate to remove the Chaplain, Rev. Shoko Masunaga, and to replace him with a Christian.

Incidentally, I was distressed to discover that some of those who advocated this course of action would not accept as the Senate Chaplain, a Rabbi, a minister of the Seventh Day Adventist, Jehovah's Witness, or Mormon churches. They were very determined that the Chaplain should be a clergyman selected only from one of the traditional Christian churches, and not from a non-Christian church or a Christian sect. This fact disturbed me, since I am convinced that if the concept of separation of church and state and the ecumenical spirit are to be meaningful, there must be an opportunity for the expression of the religious values of different sects and religions when the members of the Senate, and others present, convey to God their faith, hopes and aspirations for the betterment of mankind.

Incidentally, before I nominated the Buddhist minister to be Senate Chaplain, I reread some works on the origin and history of Buddhism and encountered an interesting fact of history, which I wish to convey to you. The religion, of course, was founded by Buddha in India in the 6th century, B.C., and gradually its spiritual values were introduced to the Christian world in the form of a Christianized version of the life of Buddha. The effect was to produce in the Christian churches of the 10th century an interesting response. Buddha was canonized as a saint by both the Eastern Orthodox and the Roman Catholic Churches.

I have mentioned this only to emphasize again that despite the fact that there are significant differences in doctrine among the Buddhist, Christian and Judaic churches, and in the philosophical reasoning of Socrates, there is a common bond and that common bond is found in the similarity between the basic values which are emphasized and which are regarded as essential to man if he is to find meaning in life. And so, what I am saying, I presume, is that when one studies the inspired thinking of sensitive men in different places in the world and at different times in history, one finds that there is agreement with regard to fundamental moral, spiritual and ethical human values. And this, I think, is , significant, and it is a fact which transcends all others which relate to man and his religious experiences and needs.

Today we must realize, of course, that mankind faces a unique and rather desperate situation because of the impact of scientific thought and the emergence of different philosophical perspectives upon man's understanding of himself. Contemporary man is confronted with a new challenge and it is a challenge not only to the Christian but to all believers, to all men who accept the concept of a divine being and the values inspired from that fact, whether, in the thinking of Francis Schaeffer, it is the faith of orthodox Christians, based upon the Scriptures, or whether it is the faith of theistic existentialists, some of whom regard themselves as Christians, who have made the leap to God.

The condition of contemporary man may be described in the words of a number of contemporary scholars, one of whom is R.G. Rookmaker, who commented in his publication, Modern Art and the Death of Culture:

“The world has changed in the last decade. We have seen a crumbling of a culture. Increasingly, we find ourselves living in a world that is post-Christian and even post-humanist, a neo-pagan world which is nihilistic or anarchist or mystic. We cannot now expect people to follow our rules, our insights, or our morals automatically. We shall be more and more pilgrims and strangers in the world.”
Perhaps, the condition of modern man is described even more substantively and dramatically by William Barrett in The Irrational Man in his observations with respect to religion and contemporary society. He observed:

“The decline of religion in modern times means simply that religion is no longer the uncontested center and ruler of man's life, and that the Church is no longer the final and unquestioned home and asylum of his being. The deepest significance of this change does not even appear principally at the purely intellectual level, in loss of belief, though this loss due to the critical inroads of science has been a major historical cause of the decline. The waning of religion is a much more concrete and complex fact than a mere change in conscious outlook; it penetrates the deepest strata of man's psychic evolution—as Nietzsche, almost alone among nineteenth-century philosophers, was to see. Religion to medieval man was not so much a theological system as a solid psychological matrix surrounding the individual's life from birth to death, sanctifying and enclosing all its ordinary and extraordinary occasions in sacrament and ritual. The loss of the Church was the loss of a whole system of symbols, images, dogmas, and rites which had the psychological validity of immediate experience, and within which hitherto the whole psychic life of Western man had been safely contained. In losing religion, man lost the concrete connection with a transcendent realm of being; he was set free to deal with this world in all its brute objectivity. But he was bound to feel homeless in such a world, which no longer answered the needs of his spirit. A home is the accepted framework which habitually contains our life. To lose one's psychic container is to be cast adrift, to become a wanderer upon the face of the earth. Henceforth, in seeking his own human completeness man would have to do for himself what he once had done for him, unconsciously, by the Church, through the medium of its sacramental life.”
Mankind, observed Barrett, has embraced irrationalism and this new spirit of contemporary man

“... is portrayed by the modern artist who sees man, not as the rational animal in a sense handed down in the west by the Greeks, but as something else. Reality, too, reveals itself to the artist not as the great chain of being, which the tradition of western rationalism had declared intelligible down to its smallest link and its totality, but ... as opaque, dense, concrete, and in the end inexplicable. At the limits of reason one comes face to face with an endlessness; and the artist today shows the absurd, the inexplicable, the meaningless, in our daily lives.”
The message is that contemporary man has lost his religious roots, and, interestingly, he appears also to have lost his expectations that reason will provide his life with a rational order and meaningful purpose.

The observations of the historian, Arnold Toynbee, in his work entitled, Experiences, which, in a sense, is an autobiographical commentary, offered, as a critique of the condition of man, a statement of goals which should be considered most seriously by all who possess a religious faith.

Toynbee contended, and I am paraphrasing him, that adherents of each religion have quarreled with the adherents of every other one; and, within the bosom of each religion, the adherents of different sects have quarreled still more bitterly with each other. This factiousness, malice and uncharitableness, Toynbee contended, has brought Western Christianity into disrepute and has significantly contributed to Western man's alienation from his ancestral religion. And yet in contemporary society religions are reappearing on the horizon in a spirit of mutual charity and this change of heart has removed the age old stumbling block. It has opened the way for these religions to perform for human beings those spiritual services which they have always had in their power to perform, if only they had not stultified themselves as they have in the past by exhibitions of spitefulness and intolerance and, thus, justly brought themselves into discredit.

Toynbee further commented, and I quote:

“The historic religions can give a human being the help that he needs for gaining direct touch with the ultimate spiritual reality behind and beyond the phenomenon of the Universe. Along their different paths toward an identical spiritual summit, these religions can give a human being the spiritual power to break out of his servitude to human technology and to human society and to a true spiritual freedom This is the fruit that can be borne by historic religions' recent change of heart. Is this change going to prove permanent or prove to be ephemeral? It all depends upon its being permanent, and at this early stage of the new era we cannot be sure that the change will last. There are, however, at least two good auguries. The change is such a fundamental one—so complete and a new departure—that it is hard to imagine how it could now be reversed; and it is also a new departure that responds to anew need The present threat to human personality is the greatest peril to which mankind has exposed itself at any time so far since our ancestors became human; the threat to the physical survival of the human race is merely an incidental consequence of this spiritual crisis. The higher religion alone can help mankind to save itself from itself by helping it to regain contact with the ultimate spirituality, which is the ground of being and the source of salvation.

The change of heart is the heart of the matter. If this change is truly to be achieved and achievement is going to be permanent, it will bring with it a change of conduct for the better not only in the relations between human beings in the role of adherents to their respective religions, but in all human relations on every plane of activity. The union of hearts is primary. Questions of doctrine and of administration are secondary to this.”
In this connection, I am reminded of a letter I received from a cousin who commented about the conflict which my appointment of a Buddhist to be Senate Chaplain brought into being. She said that I should keep up the good work. Our grandfather, Richard Rodda, who was a Methodist minister, she observed would be proud of my action.

She further commented that she “... asked Grandfather, when she was a young person, why there were so many religions and how one could know which one to select?” Grandfather answered, “My dear, there are many roads to San Francisco. Some are smooth, some are narrow, some are long, some are short, some are rough and hard to travel, but remember one thing and that is that they all eventually lead to San Francisco. The one you choose is, of course, the one you will prefer to travel, but if you truly want to reach San Francisco anyone of them will lead you there in time.”

My cousin commented that she had thought of the observation many times as she worked with people of many different faiths and it was her opinion that what they all truly wanted was to reach San Francisco. She further observed that a niece of hers had a daughter, June, who was a fully ordained Buddhist minister, and she said, “I certainly do not consider her an atheist. Some of her teachings make very good sense to me, a bit more than the teachings of some of those who belong to other churches.” She concluded: “The good ones will travel the road and they will arrive. The rest will fall by the wayside, whatever road they travel.”

The thought with which I wish to end these comments is that one may disagree with the view that there are many roads to San Francisco and one may believe that there is really only one road. The critical issue, however, is, it seems to me, that the state must not determine the route and direct all citizens along that path. Our founding fathers believed this; they reasoned that it should be a matter of individual conscience; so they introduced the concept of religious freedom into the Constitution. We should be grateful; this gratitude we should acknowledge during the Bicentennial Year. Beyond that,all citizens of religious convictions should heed the admonition of Toynbee that “the union of hearts is primary.”

Freedom: With God or without God? (1971)

The Rodda Project: Concepts of freedom in contexts of God

Albert Rodda was a lifelong Methodist who was married to a lifelong Roman Catholic. Both Albert and Clarice practiced their religions faithfully, although on close parallel paths, creating a stable mixed marriage at a time when mixed marriages were regarded more askance than they are now. Senator Rodda was thoughtful about his religion, but not doctrinaire. These remarks on human freedom relative to God were presented at the Oak Park Methodist Church in Sacramento.

—TB


To be Free: With God or Without

Oak Park Methodist Church

August 22, 1971

Senator Albert S. Rodda

Is man free, and if so, in what way is he free?

Many responses have been made to this question. This morning, I will consider three.

First, let us review the thinking of Friedrich Nietzsche, a 19th century German philosopher.

Nietzsche made the oft-quoted statement that “God is dead!” He meant that since God was no longer a force in man’s life, God was dead—killed by man! With God dead, man was emancipated—free— free to be himself or to find his own “being.” The question which must be asked is: How did Nietzsche expect that man would use his freedom—his emancipation from God?

Nietzsche saw liberated man as one driven by a “Will to Power,” and it was through power that man would achieve his true self or his being, by becoming a superman!

This conclusion offers a frightening prospect for man. Since man has conquered nature and can unleash to his purposes the destructive energy of which reality is made, the Nietzschian view of man is disturbing. Even in the middle of the 19th Century, Nietzsche, in reflecting on the consequences of his thought, was driven to anguish and terror. Today the prospects for man, so conceived, are even more dreadful.

One can only conclude that if God is dead and man is free and freedom is expressed in a will to power, man must restore God to life; otherwise, chaos will be man's fate and the Biblical Revelation will be fulfilled!

The behavior of man in the 20th Century, as one reflects on the human condition, is not reassuring. It seems to provide more evidence to prove that Nietzsche was right than that he was wrong and the serious contemplation of the new superman described by Nietzsche evokes despair and hopelessness!

The freedom of man is viewed differently, however, by Jean-Paul Sartre; although he, too, proclaims the existence of a Godless Universe. with God dead, Sartre argues that human life is meaningless and absurd!

His is the atheistic existentialist view. There is no God; man is free; there are no values; man is absurd!

A brilliant contemporary thinker, who fought as a partisan in the French Resistance during the Nazi's occupation of France, Sartre writes bitterly of evil. He encountered evil in the Nazi occupation of France.

The evil in Hitlerism was its justification of any behavior, however depraved, as long as it resulted in power. The Nazi interpretation and application of Nietzsche's “Will to Power” led to Dachau and Auschwitz. Sartre witnessed the presence of the Nazi in France; he saw Hitler as evil; he became convinced that evil exists in the world. He concluded that evil cannot be redeemed!

But, concluded Sartre, man, who lives in a Godless world of evil and of absurdity, possesses at least his freedom! It, however, is only a limited freedom—the freedom to say “no!” This is the ultimate freedom through which man fulfills himself or achieves his Being as a Man! The freedom to say “no!”

Sartre sees the essence of life as negative—the freedom to confront evil and to say “no”; man may say: “I will not accept an evil that cannot be redeemed.”

Strangely, this Sartrean view—of a universe, empty of God and pervaded with evil—produced a conviction in Sartre which ultimately developed a close kinship with the “Will to Power” of Frederick Nietzsche. To Sartre the practical meaning of life was the struggle to overcome Evil; in this struggle man fulfilled himself; outside the struggle there was no true being or opportunity for human fulfillment.

The logic of this reasoning can be disturbing, however, since the freedom to say “no” may lead to a Nietzschean “Will to Power.” He who must say “no” might say “no” against his own nature. William Barrett in The Irrational Man reasons that the freedom to say “no” to evil in a context of life void of God and values might be a “rootless freedom”—a “demonical freedom!”

Sartre is a genuine humanitarian—a liberal revolutionary and a man of action; he can be trusted with the exercise of the freedom to resist evil—to say “no!” But the same freedom which he affirms could be experienced by a man of evil will. One can visualize the consequence. Absent a God and eternal ethical values—what is the assurance that freedom will not be abused? Sartre's view of man may merge into nothing more than a Nietzschean “Will to Power!” which produces a race of evil supermen!

Something better is required to respond to the needs of man! The consequences inherent in the proposition that God is dead, killed by man, and that man is free, are not reassuring.

Frankly, the atheism of these men is so stark and the consequences are so disturbing that its contemplation must turn one toward religion and God. This leap to God brings to mind the thinking of Soren Kierkegaard, an early 19th Century Dane, who viewed the mystery of human existence quite differently.

In contrast to Nietzsche, Kierkegaard chose to be a Christian. God, in his view, was not dead and throughout his life he constantly struggled to affirm his personal faith with all of his passion and being. His sole objective in life became that of realizing the “truth of Christ in his own life.”

His primary objective, as a writer, was to define what is meant to be a Christian. His primary purpose, in his personal life, was to “be a Christian.” For Kierkegaard, it was the only way of being a man or of becoming fulfilled.

Desirous of contributing to the betterment of mankind, he speculated as follows:
“So there I sat and smoked my cigar until I lapsed into thought. Among other thoughts I remember these:

“You are going on,” I said to myself, “to become an old man, without being anything, and without really undertaking to do anything.

“On the other hand, wherever you look about you, in literature and in life, you see the celebrated names and figures, the precious and much heralded men who are coming into prominence and are much talked about, the many benefactors of the age who know how to benefit mankind by making life easier and easier. And what are you doing?”

Here my soliloquy was interrupted, for my cigar was smoked out and a new one had to be lit. So I smoked again, and then suddenly this thought flashed through my mind:

“You must do something, but inasmuch as with your limited capacities it will be impossible to make anything easier than it has become, you must, with the same humanitarian enthusiasm as the others, undertake to make something harder.”

This notion pleased me immensely... For when all combine in every way to make everything easier, there remains only one possible danger, namely, that the ease becomes so great that it becomes altogether too great; then there is only one want left, though it is not yet a felt want, when people will want difficulty.

Out of love for mankind, and out of despair at my embarrassing situation, seeing that I had accomplished nothing and was unable to make anything easier than it had already been made, and moved by genuine interest in those who make everything easy, I conceived it as my task to create difficulties.
Pursuant to his determination to make a contribution by creating difficulties, Kierkegaard wrote penetratingly about human behavior, which he categorized into three types: the aesthetic, the ethical, and the religious.

The aesthetic life was one devoted to the enjoyment of the pleasure of the moment and to the avoidance of the unpleasant. The child is the perfect and complete aesthete, existing always in the immediacy and simplicity of the moment. Some adults retain this childlike mode of behavior and never mature. They respond to life simply and live for the moment. In the end their lives sink into despair, as the flowers that delight their lives fade.

Materialists and hedonists share this existence, as do purely abstract thinkers and speculators, who are absorbed in developing systems of philosophy and theology.

The former are consumers of things and events; the latter are analysts and abstractionists. Both are only spectators—observers of life who are detached from genuine life experience.

The aesthetic quality of living is shared by all, but some never advance beyond it—remaining childlike and uninvolved.

When one becomes involved in a choice between values, one advances to the ethical life. By the courageous act of reaching a decision, one begins to live ethically, and with a potential for living authentically!

Since ethics involves abstract reasoning about good and bad, and right and wrong, it can remain outside of life—it can be and often is merely the description of philosophical or theological systems and nothing more.

A philosopher or a theologian can succeed in constructing a complete and logical system of values and yet carry on life in a childish manner, living for the moment. Kierkegaard held that an ethical system without decision or commitment was sheer paper currency without backing. For him, the meaningful life was in living beyond the ethical. It was the religious life, the life that is involved in the uniqueness of the individual—you and I— our singleness in the world. It goes beyond mere abstraction. It is a life that is real in the sense that it transcends the easy and mechanical observance of a morality, simply because it is socially desirable—or socially approved or traditional.

The genuinely religious man must on occasion, in “fear and trembling,” break with the ordinary moral code. If we recall, Nietzsche affirmed the right of the superman to break any moral rule in order to achieve power. Kierkegaard, however, differed dramatically. The individual, he argued, must break with the ethical, but not for the reason of a callous, arrogant seeking for power.

Kierkegaard justified the religious act of moral transgression on the grounds of only one principle. The one justification, which was the core to his Christian faith, was that the individual is higher than the universal principle or the collective morality. The abstract principle cannot, he reasoned, comprehend the uniqueness of the one—the individual, in his concreteness. There are occasions, therefore, when the individual must act alone—in a kind of solitary “suspension of the ethical.”

The average person faces the necessity of making the difficult choice only occasionally and since/whatever the decision, some evil will result, most individuals avoid the necessity of choosing, or of deciding for themselves. They embrace a principle—a moral code—and by applying it rigorously and with inflexibility, escape the real moment of truth in their lives. The rigorous observance of the ethics of the day or of the crowd may provide a convenient cop-out, for no moral blueprint covers all of life's circumstances. There are times when we must choose in “fear and trembling” from within ourselves, not from outside ourselves. Those are the occasions when we stand alone.

The Bible states that “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”

The “fear and trembling” of modern man in choosing is the beginning of self and of self-actualization. And eventually all human beings must cope with the despair which embraces life when ultimately they confront the absurdity of existence.

Kierkegaard believed that at the moment of confrontation of the absurdity of life any response other than the religious was inadequate at best and at worst demonical.

A subjective thinker, Kierkegaard saw truth as inward! The true religion he argued was not simply a system of theology, which possessed the logic of a geometric theorem. To him, religion meant “to be religious.”

Religion must penetrate and permeate our existence, or it is nothing.

A theologian may know theology, but if in his heart God may have never lived or may have died, he cannot be regarded as religious.

An illiterate peasant, unable to state a simple religious creed, may be deeply religious. If he “is in the truth,” people will clearly recognize it simply because of his way of life—his living! A religious person is not a “sorter of creeds”—he is a whole man. His living is the truth—it is the way of the spirit. Kierkegaard reasoned, therefore, that the true Christian follows the law of his being, which is the “way of Christ.”

He argued that without Christ the Christian religion is empty and evil.

Christianity, he vigorously insisted, must concern the individual himself—not pure doctrine, creed, and theological abstraction.

Kierkegaard's thought remains a challenge to secular society, to institutionalized religion, and to the atheistic existential charge that life is absurd!

Christians, through faith in Christ, through living the Christian life in the context of the scriptures, can transform their own lives and influence the lives of those about him.

The difficulty that Kierkegaard created was the challenge of the Christian to be a true Christian—a religious man! There can be no greater difficulty; it goes beyond living for the moment or living according to the code of the day.

“What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love mercy, and to work humbly with your God?”

When two Christians meet, a field of spirituality must come into existence; it if does not, one must ask: Are they truly Christians?

The Christian and the Democratic Process (1967)

The Rodda Project: The Christian's Role in Politics

Senator Rodda delivered this speech on January 30, 1967. His audience was the School for Christian Church and Service of First Evangelical United Church.

The Christian and the Democratic Process:
or
“What on earth are we doing about getting good government?”


In opening a discussion of this type, it might be well to quote or paraphrase a number of the world's leading thinkers who have commented upon the nature of government and, also, the meaning of democracy. In this way, perhaps, we may establish the context in which the discussion will develop.

It is my intent this evening to discuss, as clearly as I can, the meaning of the democratic, or open society, and to relate this system of government to the individual citizen, with particular reference to the Christian.

As I reflect upon the governmental process and through it the exercise of political power, I am reminded of Plato’s “Republic,” the first instance in western history in which the nature of government was examined in a substantive and rational manner. In this work, as I recall, Plato concluded after a careful analysis that the purpose of government was the achievement of justice. And I am also reminded of a comment that is alleged to have been made by Plato's student, Aristotle, and I paraphrase him, to the effect that “all governments eventually fail because of an excessive development or implementation of the basic principle upon which they are organized.”

Since our government is thought of or usually defined as a democracy, one wonders whether the observation of Aristotle will prove relevant. In effect, one wonders whether our system will fail because of an excessive development of the democratic principle or ideal upon which it is established. One's concern is heightened when one realizes that the meaning of democracy and the way in which the democratic processes of government have been developed in this country are badly understood or poorly appreciated by many citizens. Since a meaningful discussion of the citizen's role in government presumes an understanding of its essential character, I will briefly paraphrase a number of individuals who have remarked about democracy, either by way of definition or by way of a commentary.

Carl Becker, a famous American historian who is a specialist in the 18th Century, is quoted as describing “democracy is a tremendous gamble for the highest stakes.” This epigraph conveys dramatically my feeling about democracy and my own concept of its meaning. Certainly, democracy is a gamble and it must be a gamble because of the very essential idea behind it and because of the fact that its proper implementation provides no guarantee that the best interests of the people will be served or that its finest goals will be achieved, for example, the goal of justice.

Through democracy the “good world” may be realized, but not necessarily. George Bernard Shaw who remarked that democracy is that “system of government which guarantees the people what they ought to receive” focused on the essential element of the democratic process.

Through democracy the people exercise the final control over government and the uses to which governmental power may be put. This offers some assurance that government will serve good ends, but its great virtue is that if it fails, the failure will be the result of the failure of the people. Democracy guarantees, as Shaw remarked, that whatever the people experience—good or bad—it will be their doing, their responsibility; their government will be no better or worse than the people deserve. Can free men ask for more!

Despite this characteristic of the democratic system of government, the validity of democracy is being questioned and challenged today as never before. There are many who reject the verdict of Winston Churchill, who stated that “democracy was the worst possible form of government, only that it was better than any other.”

While democracy has many detractors, it also has many friends, and frequently its friends seek to rescue democracy by developing a concept of what democracy is in order to provide a norm or standard toward which we may move. Unfortunately, in most instances in which this is attempted the norms or models selected are not a true reflection of the American democratic process. To the extent that the model is an “ersatz” one, the well-meaning intentions of the friends of democracy tend to produce more confusion and, therefore, greater hazards for democracy. A few cases of “mistaken identity” may be cited.

For example, a case is made for what is described as “democracy as the American credo.” An appeal to history for legitimacy, the concept suggests that there is in existence an American creed or faith which can be extracted from the story of American history. Actually, the historical past can help us to understand the present, but it cannot provide a concrete, specific statement of democracy as a particular institution or event of yesterday, nor can it suggest what it ought to be today. The American Revolution, for example, solved only one question—the separation from Great Britain. It did not itself lead to the establishment of institutions, which by virtue of a consensus, may be looked upon as the legitimate or authentic form in which American democracy was cast and in which it should remain for perpetuity. The government which we know today actually developed out of prolonged disagreement and controversy over fundamental issues which were extremely intense in 1776 and 1789. A disagreement over basic ideals and institutions was the focus of controversy and it has carried on down to the present. It is foolish and transitory, therefore, to think that one may find in 1776, 1789 or 1865 an idealized form or model for American democracy.

Another model is that of democracy regarded as a religious faith. From this perspective it is suggested that the traditions of the Judeo-Christian religious morality provide an appropriate basis for a delineation of life upon a theistic view of the world which stands in contrast or opposition to the communistic ideal which is predicated or established upon an atheistic cosmic view. Unfortunately, the theistic model derives, also, from a misreading of American history, since American society developed out of a conviction that government could not provide a religious faith. Our society is actually founded on a commitment to provide the fullest possible freedom of expression in matters of theology and religious belief and this, therefore, is the only sense in which one can relate American democracy to Christianity or Judaism; it cannot otherwise be regarded without the risk of a crude distortion of the facts of our historical origins.

We must, it is sometimes argued, identify democracy or the democratic system of government, with capitalism. This interpretation arises from a confusion as to the distinction between the economic and political institutions of our country. Capitalism defines or describes the basic institutions we have developed for the production and distribution of economic goods. Democracy describes our political institutions and our governmental processes. To equate democracy with capitalism, therefore, is to insist upon an identity which is totally irrelevant to reality.

Historically, American society has given expression to forces supportive of capitalism and also forces which have been in opposition to it. We simply may not, therefore, equate democracy with capitalism, nor may we, on the other hand, equate socialism with totalitarianism. History does not reveal any particular mutualism between capitalism and democracy, neither does it identify collectivism or non-capitalism with totalitarianism. History records, on the contrary, that democratic processes of government are sometimes associated with socialism and that in contemporary European countries they have, when joined with a considerable amount of socialism, provided a principal defense against totalitarianism.

Moreover, capitalism, the full historical record reveals, has frequently been associated with colonialism and with political systems and structures which are anti-democratic. The hazard encountered when we equate democracy with capitalism is that we immediately place the economic status quo beyond the reaction of public opinion. Such an identification might, therefore, actually lead to the destruction of democracy itself, since any attempt to modify capitalism through the ordinary procedures of the democratic society, such as discussion of ideas and public criticism, might, because it constitutes a threat to capitalism, lead to the abandonment of democracy.

Another model is encountered in the identification of democracy with American constitutionalism. In this particular search for the real or true ideal, democracy is visualized as federalism, as the check and balance system, and as the separation of powers. Actually, these features of American constitutionalism are neither the essence of democracy nor are they essential to it, here or anywhere. Their existence in some instances has, in fact, hindered the development of democracy in America. They came into being largely as a necessity of political compromise, as a means of resolving differences peculiar to the united States. Federalism, for example, grew out of the political arrangements which were characteristic of our country's colonial history. The practice of checks and balances and the separation of powers, while an outcome of early colonial experience, was really an improvisation which was introduced into the basic elements of the government of the United States in order to thwart the popular will, or to avert what was commonly described as the tyranny of the majority. It would be improper, therefore, to hold that these characteristics of or elements in our constitutional arrangements are the essence of American democracy. Democracy can and does function effectively in other countries under institutions which certainly do not contain any of the elements of federalism, checks and balances and the separation of powers.

The identification of democracy with a faith or a credo, specific economic institutions, or certain unique features of our Constitution do a disservice to the concept. They reveal a failure to understand it. This sadly is one of the hazards which confronts our society today, because, as has been pointed out earlier, if we fail to understand what democracy really means, we certainly will be less competent to preserve it. If we struggle to realize a false image or model, we will quite likely give ourselves a directional impulse which is inimical to democracy.

We must know what democracy really is and means~ we cannot afford to act on the basis of a mistaken identity. We must know, also, that by virtue of its very essence, democracy presents a dilemma—the dilemma is how to maintain democracy despite the fact that within its essential essence may lie the seed of its own destruction.

The concept of the open society is the essence of the meaning of democracy; it, also, is the source of the democratic dilemma.

Anthropologists contend that in all societies there are certain “cultural universals.” These are the basic beliefs that hold a society together and give it meaning to its members. They are shared universally and once accepted become the embodiments of the spirit of the culture and they so permeate a society that they exclude other or alternative values. Institutions and practices tend, thus, to be opposite to or inversely related to others. This is true since they tend to implement or reflect competitive or opposite values; therefore, they are exclusive—monogamy excludes polygamy, for example.

If we are to appreciate the character of the open society, we must recognize that universals cannot be recognized as constituting such an integral part of the life of the society that they must be universally and rigorously imposed upon the people through the exercise of the political power of the government. Of course, such an admission does not carry with it the implication that a democratic society does not have or cannot rest upon a common set of values. Actually, a free or democratic society must have such values, but they must relate to the society in a different manner than those which are found in a rigorously structured society, whether extremely primitive or of a modern totalitarian character. The cement that binds a democratic society together is unique; whereas, there are no substantive universals imposed upon the citizen by law, there are certain processes to which there is universal commitment incorporated in the body politic. These can be regarded as “procedural universals,” and they are absolutely fundamental to the democratic society. They are the essential freedoms and constitutional guarantees, such as the freedom of speech, freedom of conscience, freedom of press, freedom of association, and freedom from arbitrary action of the government, or, in essence, due process of law.

Another universal or basic absolute, you might say, of the free society, is the integrity of the individual—the requirement that the citizen must be regarded at all times as an individual possessing fully and equally with all others the same basic rights under the Constitution and the same freedom to be involved in society.

These are the essential ideas of the free society and they are vital to the preservation of it. When they exist, it is impossible for an authoritarian or totalitarian system to come into being and it is only when they do exist that a free society can be said to be operative among people.

The general idea that derives from this condition, of course, is that there must be some common values—such as the necessity of speaking honestly, or seeking the truth, of dealing fairly with opposing views, and of acting with integrity toward the existing institutions of a country, of recognizing due process of law, and of exercising self-control or engaging in responsible personal self-government. In a free society it is essential that one is concerned about means as well as ends and that one avoids making the means the ends of society—in other words, making the control and the use of power the end of government.

Power must be exercised with the understanding that power is not absolute and that it must be used constructively—at all times with due respect for the rights of the individual. These are the essential universals of the democratic system as it pursues its search for truth and for social justice. This unending quest for truth is the thing that will make men free. While it continues there will not be a final attachment to an idea, an ideology, to a faith, or to a particular value which characterizes totalitarianism in its many forms. In its essence, the free society means that all substantive questions are open to question.

Doctors John Livingston and Robert Thompson in The Consent of the Governed have stated it as follows: “... the ideal of democracy requires that all universals be procedural rather than substantive and that all questions ... be at least potentially open ones.”

A qualification is that it is not likely or even desirable from the point-of-view of social stability “that all matters will be in dispute at all times. It is only necessary that they be potentially open“ for evaluation. This essentially is the difference between a totalitarian and democratic society—that is, “The totalitarian state operates from an authoritative all-embracing ideology which furnishes answers to all human problems and standards of taste and judgment and all human relations” at all times.

A pluralistic or open society is one “in which government does not prescribe the interests or opinions of its citizens and in which, therefore, forms of group life may flourish at the initiative and discretion of citizens.”

Having defined the democratic idea, or model, as a system of government in which the citizens are charged generally with determining who will govern them and only incidentally are engaged in the actual process of government, I will undertake to relate this system to the individual citizen.

A question that one might pose is whether the government which democracy provides is good or bad. In reflecting upon this question, one must realize that goodness is purely, in the political sense, subjective and relative.

There appear to be no objective and absolute criteria of goodness insofar as the ends of government are concerned; goodness in this context is strictly relative and a matter of opinion. As a consequence, any value judgment about the goodness or badness of government will of necessity be debatable. However, one should, in reflecting on this problem, keep in mind the obvious fact that democracy itself is not an end of government and that the existence of democracy does not of necessity result in conditions which are automatically or of necessity in conformity with the public good. A democracy is merely a method of government; it may lead to good or bad government. We, therefore, must constantly remind ourselves that democracy guarantees only one thing—that the citizens will control their government and that there is no guarantee as to the quality of the result of that government.

Whether the product of democratic government is good will depend, I suppose, on its ability to provide for the public or the general welfare. This, too, will depend, I think, upon the level of involvement of its citizens, the knowledge that the citizens have of problems of government, and the freedom that they enjoy to debate issues and to exercise the right of dissent. Such conditions are absolutely essential to the ultimate success of government by the people, they will provide, if the consensus or majority view proves inappropriate or contrary to the general welfare, a means through which change may be achieved and the minority point-of-view elevated to the level of a consensus. In this way democracy can and may provide a means for improvement and for the implementation of the good life by peaceful, evolutionary change, by revision and adjustment.

The good life probably, if it were to be defined in terms of specifics, would include the following:
  1. the preservation of the freedom of the individual to fulfill himself as a citizen;
  2. the creation of a continuing opportunity for the citizen to function within the economic system on a level commensurate with his abilities;
  3. an assurance to the individual of a position in the social system fully equal to that of any other individual, in effect status free from any form of discrimination which, deriving either from law or custom, assigns him an inferior position in society for any reason not related to his qualities or capabilities as a citizen;
  4. the protection of the independence of the state and the preservation of its sovereignty against external aggression;
  5. the creation of opportunities for the individual to develop fully the capacities of mind, spirit and body necessary for meaningful involvement in society in all of its aspects—cultural, educational, political;
  6. adequate provision for dealing with the problems which, while affecting the general well being, do not lend themselves to treatment on an individualistic basis; (examples of such a need would be that of education, elimination of air and water pollution, conservation of natural resources, community planning, national defense, and so on. Obviously, in an expanding, dynamic society such as ours, there will be an expansion of government into areas of activities which are of such a character);
  7. stabilization of the economic system in order to provide reasonably full employment, economic growth and expansion and a fairly wide diffusion of the national income among the citizens of the state;
  8. protection of the society through regulatory activities to check the abuses of monopoly or economic individualism;
  9. maintenance of law and order—the protection of property, civil order and public morals—the exercise of the police power of the state; and, finally,
  10. provision for a fair and speedy administration of justice through an honest and efficient judicial process.
Obviously, these criteria are not intended to be all inclusive, but they do, I think, offer a fairly selective and comprehensive list against which we might evaluate whether or not one's community conforms to the standards of a good society. Of course, it is apparent that any evaluation of a community or a society in terms of success or failures in these areas will be subject to disagreement, and quite possibly the principal areas of disagreement probably would center on the following:

National defense. The question which might be raised would be whether or not the government is adequately dealing with the communist menace, both as an ideology and as a form of political and economic aggression.

Civil rights. The question might be whether or not the government, under certain conditions, ought or ought not to protect citizens in their constitutional rights as citizens.

Civil liberties. Another closely related area of difference might be that of civil liberties—the issue being whether or not specified government policies might constitute a substantial interference with freedom of press and speech or the exercise of those basic rights which are essential to the preservation of a free citizenship.

Economic stabilization. Here the disagreement might very well be whether the government is proceeding too far with the regulation and taxation of business and is engaging in activities of an economic character which are harmful to the economy and, therefore, inimical to the economic goals of the society.

Welfare. The question might certainly be raised as to whether the government is undermining the moral character of the people through its efforts to compensate through welfare programs for the economic inadequacies of the economy and the poverty of many citizens.

There are other areas of major differences which might be mentioned; these, I believe, are the principal ones.

The critical factor in a democracy is that government is the responsibility ultimately of the majority of the citizens. Meaningful majority rule explicitly requires that government be aware of the public well being and that it attempt to advance it to the best of its ability—acknowledging at all times, however, the limits upon its power—and, therefore, while implementing programs as a means of achieving its objectives, preserve the maximum area of freedom £or the individual.

Also, essential to the democratic ideal is the right of the minority to the exercise of those freedoms which it must possess if it is to translate into policy and program the minority position.

It is in this context that the individual citizen operates and functions in a democracy. He commits himself to it; he involves himself in it, and he, at all times, evaluates it from the standpoint of the public, as well as the private good. Whether the citizen, in his evaluation of government sees good or evil will depend, of course, on his perspective.

We might reflect briefly upon the Greek concepts of Hubris and Sophrosyne, as we undertake to render a judgment upon the outcome of the governmental processes. Hubris, excessive pride and insolence, was regarded by the Greeks as sinful behavior. Sophrosyne, a personal life which exhibited self-restraint and intelligent recognition of the needs and requirements of the community, was regarded as virtuous behavior.

A problem confronting society today derives from the fact that there are those who, because of a lack of understanding of the real character of democracy, would through an excessive display of Hubris, or through an insolent disregard of the community interests, produce a condition of social chaos. A genuine possibility is that a condition of social anarchy may be brought on through an excessive assertion of selfish individualism. A problem of a different character and dimension is that other individuals, through an over-zealous pursuit of Sophrosyne, may encourage a subservience of the citizen to the society, or its personification in the state, and, as a consequence, introduce a form of totalitarianism into America.

On this point José Ortega y Gasset commented: “there will not be found amongst all representatives of the actual period, a single group whose attitude to life is not limited to believing that it has all the rights and none of the obligations. It is indifferent whether it disguises itself as reactionary or revolutionary; actively or passively, after one or two twists, its state of mind will consist, decisively, in ignoring all obligations, and in feeling itself, without the slightest notion of why, possessed of unlimited rights. Whatever be the substance which takes the position of such a soul, it will produce the same result, and will change it into a pretext for not conforming to any concrete purpose. If it appears as reactionary or anti-liberal it will be in order to affirm that the salvation of the state establishes a right to level down all other standards, and to man-handle one's neighbor but the same happens if it decides to act the revolutionary; the apparent enthusiasm for the manual worker, for the afflicted, for social justice, serves as a mask to facilitate the refusal of all obligations.”

In a free society the relation of subject and predicate, or citizen as agent and citizen as a recipient, are interesting. In the role of subject or agent the individual, to the degree that he is involved, influences the outcome of government, or its ultimate character. The citizen, if he is displeased with society as he interprets its goals and achievement, has an obligation to undertake to change it; this is not aright, it is the responsibility and obligation of all citizens in the free society. It is especially the obligation of the Christian, and especially of the educated citizen—for he must be involved if the ends of government are to prove worthy of its ideals. So, the citizen, in his role as activist or participant, can be and must be one of the many forces which determine the end result of government. The end product of government, of course, is the experience of the citizen in his passive role in which he is the principal object or recipient of the exercise of government power and authority. He is hardly justified in criticizing the condition of his fate as a recipient, or as an object of the ends of government, if he declines to exercise the role of citizen and refuses to assume his share of the responsibility for the determination of its ends and for the implementation of those ends.

The special obligation of the Christian flows from the fact that his life is ordered and constructed upon a religious foundation and reflects, if it is a worthy life, the ideals of that faith. We may infer from history, also, that the Christian ethics rest upon values which are traditionally related to the basic values of the free society, for example, (1) the emphasis placed upon the inner character of man, his motives, will and desires, (2) the importance to the Christian of the commandment of love, (3) the view that man is under obligation to God, which gives cosmic significance to his moral life, (4) the role of Christ as an inspiration to a life of idealism, and, finally, and very significant, Christianity's emphasis upon the absolute necessity of man's spiritual and moral growth—the view of man as an end and not as a means to an end.

This latter view of man, of course, is the absolute essence of the democratic ideal of society. Democracy affirms that man and the service of man is the end of government. It rejects the view that man is a servant of the state, and, as such, is a thing to be manipulated in order to serve ends other than those related to his own dignity and personal fulfillment.

The initial encounter of the citizen in his attempt to engage in politics is one of bewilderment and confusion. He does not know how to be effective and not infrequently an inadequate understanding of government leads to discouragement and eventually to disengagement. Usually, the sense of frustration experienced by the novice results from his over optimism. His unrealistic expectations produce a disappointing encounter. This can be avoided if the expectations of the first commitment are not too ambitious. It is important also that the neophyte learn how to make his effort reasonably effectual~ otherwise, a sense of inadequacy will fortify the sense of frustration and contribute to disillusionment and withdrawal.

There are essentially two ways to be involved in government: one, is as a citizen concerned with the public well being and the other is as a member of an interest group which is organized to advance a special objective. All of us are part of the public; all of us are members of one or more special interest groups.

If we desire an involvement or commitment aimed at a fuller expression of our membership in the community, we may proceed directly to partisan politics or to involvement in an idea group trying to influence government. If we wish to serve a personal, special interest, we may act as part of or through a special interest group—a business association, a religious organization, an employee group, or an employer group.

The widespread acceptance today of the “brokerage” theory of government, which visualizes government primarily as the reconciliation of selfish or special interests, presents a serious problem to a democratic society. Most citizens have a primary commitment to special interests and mild, almost indifferent, feeling toward the general interest. The compulsion experienced by many citizens, therefore, is the powerful urge to avoid partisan politics and to be involved almost completely and sometimes quite intensely in the cause of a particular and personal special interest.

The crux of our crisis in democracy today, therefore, is found, to a significant degree, in “the attitudes of individual citizens toward politics.” There seems to be an excessive preoccupation with personal affairs, which, in the words of De Tocqueville, “saps the virtues of public life,” and a too narrow involvement of the citizen in matters of public concern.

This condition encourages the “brokerage” concept or practice of government and tends to negate the prime requirement of democracy, which is that the citizen's role is to serve the interest of the public good.

If the Christian is to be involved in a meaningful way, he must share in the processes of government and be consciously active on the determination and advancement of the public good. This aspect of his civic life must be completely subordinate to his commitment to his selfish, business, professional or workingman's interest.

There are too many individuals who do not realize that the obligation of the citizen is one which requires a commitment and an involvement in the broad arena of political strife and controversy. This, therefore, is a cardinal weakness of the free society.

The issue before us, therefore, is not whether government is evil or good; the issue before us is the failure for the average man to realize that government is a primary responsibility of the citizen and, particularly, of the Christian citizen.

The role of an active citizen is not always easy. Registering and voting are time consuming, but that is about all, and this is the simplest and most direct way in which a citizen functions in the body politic. However, an involvement beyond this level, through active identification with a political party, involves more of a commitment, more of an effort, and more distress. Such an involvement places the individual in a role which produces an experience unknown to those associated with the church, with a special interest group, with civic activities, or even with non-partisan politics. Such an involvement provides an automatic encounter with controversy and conflict; it is sometimes exhilarating, but, as I have suggested, it is more often disillusioning. However, the principal difficulty encountered in personal involvement is not in becoming accustomed to confusion, to conflict, or the intrusion of politics into one's private life; it is rather in finding a modus operandi within a pluralistic society, embracing many special interest groups, for the effective implementation of one's essential moral convictions and, at the same time, preserving and safeguarding the institutions and processes which collectively make up the democratic way of life.

One immediately finds, when one is involved in partisan politics, that controversy is immediate, often intense, and tremendously disruptive. Often, unfortunately, it becomes quite personal. Success requires, therefore, that one view dispassionately the arena of politics when committed to it and learn, as President Johnson observed, “to disagree without being disagreeable,” and, thus, insure that a conflict of ideals does not become translated into a conflict of personalities or even destructive militancy.

Perhaps, the greatest danger of the moralist in politics is his tendency toward dogmatism—his inclination to take a black and white view on political issues, to see government as right or wrong, rather than good or bad. This propensity of the moralist produces a compulsion to become dogmatic and doctrinaire. It seriously handicaps one's ability to function effectively in an area where the preservation of relations cordial to the continuation of a dialogue is essential. Failure to exercise restraint in the context of active political involvement can produce a miasma or political sickness totally destructive of the spirit and institutions of the open society.

The fundamentalist religions, in particular, have trouble when politically committed. Absolute in the beliefs about their religion and the essential truths of their doctrine, they are unable to admit the view that society should tolerate an opposite view or to allow it to be advocated. Censorship—an appeal to the state—is the bulwark upon which they often rest their case and in so doing they advocate a course of action which, if pursued relentlessly, possesses an inherent potential for producing the final death of the free society, which of necessity must be pluralistic. Fundamentalists experience a difficulty in accepting or tolerating conditions which from their perspective are goalless, immoral and, therefore, sinful.

The truths revealed to them in their view are the ones which should be made the “established truth.” They fail to realize that in a non-democratic, non-pluralistic society, error, either of the majority or the minority, might or rather are generally permanently enthroned as “established truth.”

The Christian must, therefore, continuously remind himself that politics is not a black or white situation—especially in a free society. It is majority rule expressed with proper regard for the minority and with the guarantee of an opportunity for the minority to translate its view into a majority position. The Christian must rekindle the eternal hope that the prevailing majorities will reflect moral principles; since a society without ideals cannot achieve its true worth any more than can an individual.

Rigid adherence to the Christian ethic often generates in the believer a quality of absoluteness which also generates problems for the Christian who vigorously seeks to make that ethic viable and universal. It brings him into direct confrontation with the necessity of achieving a reconciliation between this commandment and the issues of war and peace, capital punishment, racial discrimination, social justice, and public and private morality.

The practical requirements of political life obviously produce a dichotomy or dual standard which is essentially a compromise and usually disturbing and unsatisfying to Christians. Some respond by withdrawal, even from society, and others from political life—taking the position that they can have no commitment to a political entity based upon values they reject or as operating amorally or without values. Others accept the anomaly and rationalize it—usually with the view that the democratic society through their involvement may create a morality, if it has none, or develop one more congenial to Christian idealism, if it is totally secular and materialistic. It is their hope, of course, that the separation of the spiritual and temporal power will then become less distinct and both the individual and society will be benefited.

At all times we must remember that American government is not based upon an ideology—that it tends to be non-ideological and that it is basically pragmatic. It deals with problems as they develop on a practical basis. If it has an ideology—and I doubt it appropriate to use the term in such a manner—the ideology is the concept and practice of majority rule and respect for the dissenting view of the minority. From its pluralism has come, therefore, a consensus which is an adjustment to practical problems, not an implementation of a particular ideology. In its concept and practice, the state is not given the role of protector of any orthodoxy or doctrine, whether of statism, Protestantism, atheism, communism, or racism. Its role is to preserve an opportunity for the people to develop a consensus which will produce the good life—justice to all men and respect for the dignity of man—clearly essential elements of the Christian ethics.

A corollary rule is that if there is a determination to proscribe by law a form of behavior because it is regarded as contrary to the moral precepts of Christianity or of a particular interpretation of Christian moral values, it should be established, prior to its enactment, that any such legislative proscription serves the public good by preventing a social evil and that it is not merely a prohibition of personal freedom, even if judged essential to the individual's well being. This is, it seems to me a basic principle to be recognized and observed by those citizens of an “open or free society” who understand its essential character—its pluralism.

The “closed society” can, of course, impose its will on the individual for his own good or for the good of the secular theology. In fact, it is not only appropriate to the ideology of such a society, but essential for its survival.

Conclusions

It would seem to me that the Christian, as an individual and as a member of a Christian fellowship, must have a special obligation to participate in politics. But, in so doing, he must be aware of the metes and bounds or the context within which his political involvement will of necessity place him. He must understand the open or democratic society; its pluralistic character; its ends and goals; its ideology and moral assumptions; and its peculiarities of structure and organization.

He must avoid being doctrinaire about his peculiar morality; he must accept the majority rule; protect the right of dissent; reconcile himself to the view that the immorality of the community—or even its amorality should be corrected by education and precept in preference to legislation. If society errs, he must remember that it is better to err and be free to change than to err permanently, once and forever.

He should remember the admonition of Michah in the Old Testament:
“Seek justice; love mercy and walk humbly in the presence of God.”
He should prefer to “light a candle than curse the darkness.”