Party, Tribe, and Colors-- What's a Faithful Person to Do?

Party, Tribe, and Colors—What’s A Faithful Person to Do? 

Fr. Tony’s Letter to the Trinitarians

October 2019

I have heard the current divide in the U.S. body politic described as something more like the divisions caused by tribe or sports-team affiliation than one based in considered policy differences or consistency in ideology.  The claim rings true to me—how else explain White Evangelical whole-hearted support of a politician whose personal life and public statements and conduct run so counter to the teachings of Jesus?  How else explain the unwillingness of either side to listen to and take into account the deeply held concerns of the other side?  How else to understand the fact that people on all sides only watch the news that agrees with them?  How else explain mutual social media brutal rudeness and unfriending?  The mix of religion (or religion-like secular appeals to right and wrong), identity politics, and the bandying about of personal triggers (both one’s own and those of one’s opponents) really does seem like the brawling of opposite-team football yobs or the worst of religious violence—whether by mob or army—over the centuries.  In the words of Stephen Stills,

“There's something happening here
What it is, ain’t exactly clear,

There’s a man with a gun over there,

Tellin’ me, I’ve got to beware…

A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly say’n, hooray for our side.” 

The late eastern Roman Empire had a similar division: not between red states and blue states, but rather between street gangs that wore blue or green strips of cloth marking their support of different teams in the blood sports of the Roman circus, whether gladiators or chariot racers.  The greens were mainly people from the lower classes wanting a larger slice of the economic pie, while the blues were mainly propertied people interested in preserving the system of privilege that had benefited themselves and their families.  At times, the division was along religious lines, with blues or greens variously finding excuses to brawl in the struggles between Arianism and Athanasian Catholicism, or the union of the two natures of Christ taught by the Council of Calcedon vs. Monophysites and Nestorians.   The gangs would take their battles in the coliseum into the streets from time to time, and riots could rage for days.  One such riot, where the blues and greens united to try to save their respective heroes, arrested for fomenting anarchy, famously almost deposed the Byzantine Emperor Justinian and his Empress Theodora.  

But the blue-green struggle was not merely about sports teams, religion, or even class politics.  In the end, it was simply about support of one’s own tribe, one’s own affiliation group.    That’s one of the reasons that the content of the disputes could change over time. 

Church leaders of the era fulminated against the rioters, and blamed generally the brutality that the violent blood sports produced in their fans. “Bread and circuses” for these dour hierarchs appeared to be idolatrous liturgies where the satisfaction of the food dole and the pleasure of viewing violence undermined the morals of the nation.  It wasn’t just about violence and the satisfaction of hunger, but also the satisfaction of other urges.  The coliseum’s outer hallway arches (Latin “fornices”) gave the name for sexual immorality (where we get the word “fornicate”) because prostitutes would ply their trade in the archways’ shadows:  the blue-green warfare was about affiliation in groups drawn together for sex, food, and violence.

But what if the current divisions are not just tribal warfare?  What about the real issues of concern for either side? The Left says the Right is Fascist, the Trump movement racist and sexist, and that the struggle is about the Right maintaining brutal privilege.  The Right says they are defending traditional religion, gender roles and marriage, opposing abortion, and the freedom of individuals to associate with whom they choose for whatever reason.  Values are indeed part of the disagreement.  But a difference in values and beliefs should not necessarily fuel tribal and partisan division. 

The great Abrahamic religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, despite their common points and shared background, have real differences, and these on occasion have fed tribal and partisan fighting between them, and between sects within them.  Group identity and a sense of tribal loyalty fanned the fire of such feuding. The crusades were the most notable conflict here.  Another was the great wars of religion in Europe after the protestant reformation.  The question of “how can we prove whose is the true religion?” haunted people of these traditions for centuries; for some among them the question remains.  But a great key of how to overcome sectarian and partisan strife was described by the great Enlightenment German philosopher Gotthold Lessing in his play, Nathan the Wise.  Set in Jerusalem during the Third Crusade, the play is a dialogue between a wise Jewish merchant named Nathan, the enlightened Sultan Saladin, and an initially anonymous Knight Templar.  In their dialogue, they build trust and bridge the gaps between them.  But the core issue of “how can we tell whose faith is true?” remains.  The climax of the play is a parable told by Nathan that addresses that very point.

The story describes an heirloom ring with the magical ability to render its owner pleasing to God and human beings, one that has been passed down for generations from father to best beloved son.  But then the ring passes to a father of three sons whom he loves equally.  He promises it (in a moment of “pious weakness”) to each of the three.  Unwilling to disappoint any, he has two replicas made, indistinguishable from the original, and on his deathbed gives a ring to each son.  The brothers quarrel over who owns the real ring. An astute judge tells them that it is impossible to say which ring is true or even if any of them is.  To find out whether one of them has the real ring, each one of them has to live in such a way that demonstrates their ring’s power to render its wearer pleasing to God and other human beings.  “Do not worry about how to prove which ring will make you good.   Rather, be good, and prove through your actions the power of your ring.”  Nathan compares this to religion, saying that the proof of truth in religion is how we behave and treat each other.

Our current divisions in party, religion, and values can benefit from the Parable of the Rings.  We should pursue our higher values, not our baser ones.  We should not seek to convince or argue, but rather simply show an example.  This doesn’t mean that we not hold our political leadership accountable under the law and constitution, but it does mean that we try to hold all equally accountable to the same standards.  It doesn’t mean that each person’s opinion is a good or acceptable as another’s, but it does mean that we need to respect and honor the other person’s right to hold opinions varying from our own.  

“Treat others as you would be treated,” said Jesus.  This will go a long way in healing the breach in our common life.  It may provide the clue to the truth we say we seek and often try to claim we already have.

Grace and Peace,

Fr. Tony+