Bad Theology and Misinformed Politics
Not sure when this will go on the blog, but I
had to write something—if only to note how oddly predictable this all is.
Once again, those who believe they hold power
are up in arms because someone has dared to step into what they see as their
territory: politics.
This time, in April 2026, it was Pope Leo
XIV drawing fire for criticising “tyrants” who ravage the world and spend
billions on war. And right on cue came the familiar chorus: “Stick to
religion.”
Stay in your lane. Politics isn’t your job. It’s not your expertise. Keep out.
We’ve heard it before. The same outrage
surfaced in the UK when the Archbishop of Canterbury spoke into political
matters. The message was clear: stick to the Bible and leave governance to
us.
But here’s the problem—that demand is not just
bad politics. It’s bad theology.
And bad theology doesn’t stay neatly
contained. It spills over. It shapes policy, priorities, and people’s lives. It
leads to distorted decisions: wars funded while the poor are neglected;
healthcare and education sidelined; strangers treated with suspicion rather
than dignity. It asks us to accept a world where compassion is optional and
power goes unquestioned.
What this kind of thinking reveals is simple:
people are either not reading the Bible—or they’re reading a version that bears
little resemblance to the one I recognise.
Look at the prophets of the Old Testament.
They are anything but quiet. They confront power head-on. They rage against
injustice. They speak for the marginalised, the dispossessed, the hungry. They
call out land theft, economic exploitation, and social neglect. And how are
they received? With hostility. Silence them. Discredit them. Remove them.
Sound familiar?
Or take Paul in the New Testament. He
is imprisoned, beaten, dragged before authorities, and ultimately sent to Rome
for trial. Why? Because what he proclaimed was not heard as harmless
“religion.” It was heard as something far more dangerous: a challenge to the
political order.
That’s the point we often miss. We read the
Bible with 2026 eyes and hear it with 2026 ears. We categorise it as
“religious.” But in its own time, it didn’t sit in a neat, private box. It
collided with power. It disrupted systems.
To say “Jesus is Lord” in the first
century was not a devotional whisper—it was a political statement. Caesar
claimed lordship. Allegiance was contested.
To speak of the “Kingdom of God” was not abstract theology—it was an
alternative vision of society.
To proclaim a “Prince of Peace” stood in direct contrast to an empire built on
domination.
None of this was safely “spiritual.” It was
deeply, unavoidably political.
So when people today speak about peace, about
caring for the environment, about welcoming the stranger, about justice for the
poor—and are told to “stay out of politics”—it echoes that same ancient
resistance.
When leaders are labelled as divinely chosen
while policies harm the vulnerable…
When hostile environments are created for those already suffering…
When the needy are blamed for their need…
And then, when voices grounded in faith
challenge these things, they are told to keep quiet—stay in their lane—it
reveals something deeper than political disagreement.
It reveals a theological failure.
Because this was never “just politics.”
It has always been theology.
And if the theology is wrong, the politics
that flow from it will be too.
Adrian Hawkes
adrianhawkes.blogspot.com
W.578