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

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