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The Politics of Spirituality
Discusses the dangers of self-indulgence, worldliness versus holiness, justice, hope, and the future of the world
90 pages, Paperback
First published November 1, 1984
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About the author
William Stringfellow
32 books24 followersFrank William Stringfellow (April 26, 1928 – March 2, 1985) was an American lay theologian. He was active mostly during the 1960s and 1970s.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
June 20, 2019
I re-read this every year. A very timely book in Trump World.
July 6, 2010
Think Reinhold Niebuhr, but a little less polished, a little more angry, and with a lot more eschatology. A good read for the Christian.
Stringfellow was an activist lawyer, an active Episcopalian, and a guest lecturer and theologian-in-residence at a number of law schools and seminaries. He was known for his advocacy of justice, his deep religious life, and his commitment to the biblical witness. In other words, he was rather remarkable.
The Politics of Spirituality is Stringfellow's last writing. Written in 1984, it sums up a mature theology. His argument, if it can be reduced to a miniature, is that politics, in the sense of engagement in human affairs, is a basic experience of being human. He calls on all of us to see the Word of God acting in time, and to see the Spirit working to make us holy, and the Word to make us just. Finally, he develops an eschatology, in which we are called to be participants in God's bringing about his Kingdom.
On the other hand, he rejects easy Christian platitudes. The 700 Club and other forms of feel-good Christianity—so clearly rejected by both the Hebrew Prophets and Jesus himself—he addresses with special sarcasm and disdain. His point is: consumerism is not Christian. It's idolatrous. God does not particularly want you to be rich, and he certainly doesn't want you to make the compromises with the world. He also rejects the easy veneer of Christianity so many want to put over the American experiment. The live issue in his time was school prayer, and the use of God-language in politics, the desire for an American civil religion: Stringfellow rejects this idea as a boring and offensive caricature of the God of the Bible (which it is). In this respect, he rejects T.S. Eliot's solution to the problem of religion and culture.
In developing an eschatology, Stringfellow makes an interesting turn on Reinhold Niebuhr's political realism. The stock critique of Niebuhr—and it is a devastating critique—is that he has no eschatology. Niebuhr has no idea where history is going except in a very vague way. On the one hand, this betrays a laudable modesty in a political philosopher (would that neoconservatives and Fukuyama had such modesty), but on the other, it is a significant weakness for a theologian. Stringfellow starts from Niebuhrian premises, but gets to another place. As Niebuhr himself would undoubtedly have done, Stringfellow rejects the eschatological language of manifest destiny of the United States to be the City on a Hill that cannot be hid, and the cosmic struggle of good (U.S.) versus evil (U.S.S.R.) that Reagan regularly used (and remains current in some circles). Stringfellow rightly points out that this is a replacement of God with the United States, and an investiture of cosmic significance into a merely human struggle—and a struggle that is not even clearly related to any concern of holiness or justice.
As N.T. Wright subsequently developed the idea in Surprised By Hope, the eschatology of justice and holiness is part of our becoming like God. Becoming holy is largely learning how to become the people God envisioned us to be, and joining in the dance of joy that is true holiness. And the truly holy person will fight for justice because from the standpoint of Judgment, those who are just will be judged justified. The election by God to be one of the holy people does not come by our actions in this world, or even by our actions at all; the actions are merely evidence of what God does to us as he draws us into him. Our role is simply to say "yes" or "no" to God's offer; if we say "yes," then we can join the dance and work to make this world what it ought to be. The final move, the making of this world as it should be, will not occur until the end of time, and only God can make it so. But this does not absolve us of our role to do our part. To do less is to fail to imitate him whom we have pledged to be like.
Stringfellow was an activist lawyer, an active Episcopalian, and a guest lecturer and theologian-in-residence at a number of law schools and seminaries. He was known for his advocacy of justice, his deep religious life, and his commitment to the biblical witness. In other words, he was rather remarkable.
The Politics of Spirituality is Stringfellow's last writing. Written in 1984, it sums up a mature theology. His argument, if it can be reduced to a miniature, is that politics, in the sense of engagement in human affairs, is a basic experience of being human. He calls on all of us to see the Word of God acting in time, and to see the Spirit working to make us holy, and the Word to make us just. Finally, he develops an eschatology, in which we are called to be participants in God's bringing about his Kingdom.
On the other hand, he rejects easy Christian platitudes. The 700 Club and other forms of feel-good Christianity—so clearly rejected by both the Hebrew Prophets and Jesus himself—he addresses with special sarcasm and disdain. His point is: consumerism is not Christian. It's idolatrous. God does not particularly want you to be rich, and he certainly doesn't want you to make the compromises with the world. He also rejects the easy veneer of Christianity so many want to put over the American experiment. The live issue in his time was school prayer, and the use of God-language in politics, the desire for an American civil religion: Stringfellow rejects this idea as a boring and offensive caricature of the God of the Bible (which it is). In this respect, he rejects T.S. Eliot's solution to the problem of religion and culture.
In developing an eschatology, Stringfellow makes an interesting turn on Reinhold Niebuhr's political realism. The stock critique of Niebuhr—and it is a devastating critique—is that he has no eschatology. Niebuhr has no idea where history is going except in a very vague way. On the one hand, this betrays a laudable modesty in a political philosopher (would that neoconservatives and Fukuyama had such modesty), but on the other, it is a significant weakness for a theologian. Stringfellow starts from Niebuhrian premises, but gets to another place. As Niebuhr himself would undoubtedly have done, Stringfellow rejects the eschatological language of manifest destiny of the United States to be the City on a Hill that cannot be hid, and the cosmic struggle of good (U.S.) versus evil (U.S.S.R.) that Reagan regularly used (and remains current in some circles). Stringfellow rightly points out that this is a replacement of God with the United States, and an investiture of cosmic significance into a merely human struggle—and a struggle that is not even clearly related to any concern of holiness or justice.
As N.T. Wright subsequently developed the idea in Surprised By Hope, the eschatology of justice and holiness is part of our becoming like God. Becoming holy is largely learning how to become the people God envisioned us to be, and joining in the dance of joy that is true holiness. And the truly holy person will fight for justice because from the standpoint of Judgment, those who are just will be judged justified. The election by God to be one of the holy people does not come by our actions in this world, or even by our actions at all; the actions are merely evidence of what God does to us as he draws us into him. Our role is simply to say "yes" or "no" to God's offer; if we say "yes," then we can join the dance and work to make this world what it ought to be. The final move, the making of this world as it should be, will not occur until the end of time, and only God can make it so. But this does not absolve us of our role to do our part. To do less is to fail to imitate him whom we have pledged to be like.
September 16, 2007
Stringfellow's last book from 1984 is a biting but wholly free (and thus ultimately joyous) meditation on faith and pain, and different states of evasion thereof. If more American Christians were to have even an inkling of Stringfellow's temperament and outlook, a large chunk of our "culture wars" might well just dissolve.
Written "during a period in which [Stringfellow] endure[d] almost continuous and very aggravated pain" (p. 24), he's distilled his faith down to the bone and laid it bare. I would imagine that anyone coming from any religious tradition with some level of sincere devotion couldn't but be moved by Stringellow's exposition of his own determined and utterly realistic (vs. romantic) faith, and its relation to his sense of the (fallen but always potentially redeemed) world. Stringfellow's writings have become known for seamlessly merging autobiography, theology, and politics using everyday language, without at all becoming solipsistic, and are a perfect antidote to the cheap religious sentimentality and naive, compromised, or opportunistic faith that too often seem to define the American religious landscape.
For example, S. on the "school prayer" issue:
". . . the prayer controversy has been a virtually classic example of the substitution of a public relations campaign for deliberative policy-making. . . . Consider the repeated one-liner, used by advocates of prayer in schools, including Ronald Reagan, to the effect that the Supreme Court in its Constitutional bar to school prayer had 'expelled God from school.' This is patently absurd talk, Constitutionally irrelevant and, perhaps more significant, an open ridicule of God. It does not, in the first place, speak of a living God at all but of some notion or conception of 'God' -- a puny one, at that -- the location or other reference to which is dependent upon the actions of human beings, or of some humans and institutions. . . . For Christians, when it is said the court decision has 'expelled God from school,' the speaker is both denouncing and denying the presence of the Word of God everywhere in this world, or, what is also conceivable, the one speaking is supercilious and ignorant and simply does not know what he or she is talking about. . . . In fact, as one would expect, those who complain that 'God' has been lately expelled from school are for the most part incapable of enunciating in comprehensible language and syntax what is the reality of the relationship of prayer. One ends up with some plaintive exercises -- nonprayers or antiprayers addressed to some nongod or antigod. Better that the children spend a few moments at the opening of the school day meditating on the meaning of the Constitutional amendments that comprise the Bill of Rights: Let them be spared the foolish indignity of making believe they are praying to a make-believe deity conjured up in a White House press handout" (pp. 58-60).
Stringfellow had a rare combination of theological discernment, a sharp legal mind, and prophetic political judgment. What to superficially sentimental or pietistic Christians might seem like a "dark" streak in his works or temperament one could easily argue is simply Stringfellow's insight and experience reflecting back on the everyday life of his times. A title like The Politics of Spirituality might lead one to expect a general treatise concerning the categories of "politics" and "spirituality"; instead, Stringfellow has written a completely particularized account of why the one always encompasses the other. As a Christian, it helps S. that the structure of the bible narratives illustrates this claim, but those of other faiths (or non-faiths) can still benefit from his angle of approach (especially if you need to counter theocratic "fundies"!).
Written "during a period in which [Stringfellow] endure[d] almost continuous and very aggravated pain" (p. 24), he's distilled his faith down to the bone and laid it bare. I would imagine that anyone coming from any religious tradition with some level of sincere devotion couldn't but be moved by Stringellow's exposition of his own determined and utterly realistic (vs. romantic) faith, and its relation to his sense of the (fallen but always potentially redeemed) world. Stringfellow's writings have become known for seamlessly merging autobiography, theology, and politics using everyday language, without at all becoming solipsistic, and are a perfect antidote to the cheap religious sentimentality and naive, compromised, or opportunistic faith that too often seem to define the American religious landscape.
For example, S. on the "school prayer" issue:
". . . the prayer controversy has been a virtually classic example of the substitution of a public relations campaign for deliberative policy-making. . . . Consider the repeated one-liner, used by advocates of prayer in schools, including Ronald Reagan, to the effect that the Supreme Court in its Constitutional bar to school prayer had 'expelled God from school.' This is patently absurd talk, Constitutionally irrelevant and, perhaps more significant, an open ridicule of God. It does not, in the first place, speak of a living God at all but of some notion or conception of 'God' -- a puny one, at that -- the location or other reference to which is dependent upon the actions of human beings, or of some humans and institutions. . . . For Christians, when it is said the court decision has 'expelled God from school,' the speaker is both denouncing and denying the presence of the Word of God everywhere in this world, or, what is also conceivable, the one speaking is supercilious and ignorant and simply does not know what he or she is talking about. . . . In fact, as one would expect, those who complain that 'God' has been lately expelled from school are for the most part incapable of enunciating in comprehensible language and syntax what is the reality of the relationship of prayer. One ends up with some plaintive exercises -- nonprayers or antiprayers addressed to some nongod or antigod. Better that the children spend a few moments at the opening of the school day meditating on the meaning of the Constitutional amendments that comprise the Bill of Rights: Let them be spared the foolish indignity of making believe they are praying to a make-believe deity conjured up in a White House press handout" (pp. 58-60).
Stringfellow had a rare combination of theological discernment, a sharp legal mind, and prophetic political judgment. What to superficially sentimental or pietistic Christians might seem like a "dark" streak in his works or temperament one could easily argue is simply Stringfellow's insight and experience reflecting back on the everyday life of his times. A title like The Politics of Spirituality might lead one to expect a general treatise concerning the categories of "politics" and "spirituality"; instead, Stringfellow has written a completely particularized account of why the one always encompasses the other. As a Christian, it helps S. that the structure of the bible narratives illustrates this claim, but those of other faiths (or non-faiths) can still benefit from his angle of approach (especially if you need to counter theocratic "fundies"!).
March 30, 2015
This is a hard little book - at least for me. Stringfellow forces one back again and once more to how one lives act to sanctify life that God created. To sanctify one's life in creation. To honor all that is holy - that is, all of life. I am passionate about this work.
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