Cross Roads

Christian Vocation

+ Decisions about Vocation
+ Politics as Vocation

In the circles I run in, vocation is a hot topic. Retreats are developed to discern it, people take a year 'off' to look for it (as I've done), books are written on it (Parker Palmer has written some good ones), this month's newsletter is devoted to it ... what to do with this vocation issue? I've spent many months pondering this very subject.

As someone recently graduated from college, I guess it makes sense that I am searching for vocation, although I'm told by many adults who have established careers and seem happy with their lives, that they are still in search of the elusive vocation. At its Latin root, vocation indeed means calling which, to me, is just as elusive a term. Basically, as I've asked every wise person I know about the subject, read the books, and participated in retreats and seminars reflecting on vocation, it seems that the discussion about vocation boils down to a person having to decide to follow their heart versus being practical. I've never understood why both can't be true.

For many people, it seems that it can be true. For many, their vocation develops over time and stems from one career to another, as well as into other avenues such as their families, volunteer work, hobbies, and even mentoring relationships. That seems practical. One of the Biblical proverbs reads, "Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life." For me, that sums up the discussion on vocation. If filling your heart with life means a career change, go for it. If it means investing our hearts fully in God's love and sharing that with others wherever we find ourselves, perhaps we should give that a try too. In doing so, we may have indeed stumbled onto our elusive vocation and calling as Christians.

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Politics as Vocation

Ellie Kinnaird, N.C. Senator

A Christian who is a politician. That may sound like an oxymoron. On the other hand, living in the Bible Belt, one might think it is a requirement. The Legislature starts each session with a prayer; every organization's banquet, breakfast, and meeting starts with a prayer.

In fact, when I attended a banquet once that didn't start with a prayer, I was puzzled, until I realized it was the ACLU annual gathering.

As a believer in separation of church and state, it bothered me to see so many secular events start with a prayer. I also questioned the sincerity, but I have come to appreciate our Senate Chaplain and guest ministers whose prayers are thoughtful, relevant to our duties and intentionally not Christian, since we have Jewish and Muslim members. (The only Christian prayers come from recalcitrant rural Baptists, who do not adhere to the Senate guidelines, believing that God's guidelines trump the Senate's.) Perhaps it does make us mindful of a greater duty.

Almost every legislator goes to church at least sporadically -- after all, how would a campaign brochure look without the candidate's church listed? How much is sincere and how much is grandstanding for the folks back home is always a question. (The Rev. Robert Seymour reminded us of the 11th commandment during the debate over posting the Ten Commandments in schools: thou shalt not use God as a political football.) This is not to say that many are not deeply religious. Christians of all stripes are represented and many care passionately for a spectrum of causes, from prayer in school, to pro-life, to posting the Ten Commandments in schools, to providing for the elderly and disabled, to anti-death penalty advocates.

What then is the obligation of a Christian in political life?

In Christ's own words, to love God with all our hearts and all our minds and to love our neighbor as ourselves. It is an unmistakable message. The Bible is full of examples in which Christ tells us, directly or through parables, what is our duty. The widow who gave her mite, the rich man who was told he had to give all his earthly riches away to get into heaven, the good Samaritan whose faith cured him. What better place than the Legislature to carry out the commandment to love our neighbors, in the name of all the people of the state?

On a personal level, I read the Bible every day, attend church on Sunday and pray, as best I can in my feeble understanding of what prayer should be. Does it carry over to my work in the Legislature? I like to think it is what informs and motivates me in my work in Raleigh. In fact, I often wonder why everyone in the Legislature doesn't see things the way I do. How can our budget cut crucial funds for the disabled, poor, and elderly? I think to myself, as the Chaplain calls on us to mind the poor and weak in our midst, "Yes, listen to that message, all you who vote to cut their funds." How can anyone vote for tax loopholes for wealthy corporations and ignore the needs of folks on Medicaid? How can my colleagues vote for businesses to escape environmental regulation? How can people take huge campaign contributions and not expect to have to give favors in return? How can anyone vote against the ban on the death penalty for the mentally retarded? When the bill to ban the executions was being considered, I gathered the resolutions from churches in support of the ban by People of Faith Against the Death Penalty and gave them to each member. But often the reply was, "I believe in it, but it won't go over well in my district." I ask, where is their moral compass? But is it up to me to question my colleagues' religious sincerity? Should I not look at the mote in my eye first? Christ said he came not with peace but with a sword. A sword to divide families, divide even loved ones who don't choose to follow his commandment to love one another. I don't know. Am I being too judgmental? The death penalty bills to ban the execution of the retarded and for a Moratorium were easy for me. My own Church not only supported it, but gave money for a study of the inequities of the Death Penalty. I represent a liberal district where support for abolition of the death penalty may help me. What then, is my Christian duty? To condemn my colleagues whose constituents might defeat them in the next election? Would they not be replaced by someone who was even less committed to social justice? What are the Christian principles in play in this personal dilemma? Forgiveness of what I see as a moral failing? Forgiveness of me for feeling morally superior?

What are the pitfalls that beset a Christian who is a politician?

First, there is love of power. The Legislature is a place of large egos and a large power struggle, and for good reason. Because if you have no power, the chances of getting bills enacted are minimal. And then there is flattery. Legislators are truly the emperor with no clothes. The staff treats us with the greatest deference and for good reason: legislators pay them. We tell them what to do, and the threat of losing their job if they cross an important legislator is real. It is easy to get puffed up when people think its a big deal when you join them for their function. Or when people thank you for your efforts in the Legislature, even though it is our Christian duty. We always have to remember, it is not we who are important. We can be easily replaced. The mission cannot. Finally, it is not always easy in a secular context to be open that my choices are based on my Christian beliefs.

How do I reconcile these dilemmas of political life and the Christian life? Back to the Bible -- "Walk humbly before your Lord." Daily confession: "Forgive us our trespasses." Put God before expediency; live by what I learn from the Bible and my church life; and forgive, both myself and others, when choices and actions are not the Christian principled ones we should make. And constantly, to keep our hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, love your neighbor as yourself, walk humbly before your God, and forgive us our trespasses.

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