Church and State Are Not Separate – They Are at War

There are ideas that are so common, so oft-repeated, that they are critically examined only with great difficulty. Among the most powerful such ideas is the concept described as the “separation of Church and State.” The history of the phrase is its own study (it’s not actually in the Constitution, much less the Bible). It is repeated, however, as though it were not only obvious but morally obvious. Thus, it has come to be far more than a particular arrangement within American constitutional thought. Hidden within the sentiment, however, are assumptions about both the State and the Church that are not only not obvious, but from a classical Christian perspective, not even true.

The concept posits two entities, Church and State, as though they were givens about which everyone agrees. The modern construction called “the State,” is, just that, a modern construction. The nation-state is a fairly modern notion. It exists as an entity authorized to collect money, make laws, conduct war, and negotiate on behalf of all people living within a defined geographical area. It operates in this manner through mutual recognition and agreement with other similar states, behaving according to stated rules and norms. “Primitive” peoples who were late to the table of statehood, were treated as though they had none, needed one, and now they’re ours!

The Church, in the modern period, has been reduced to a minor institution that exists for agreed religious purposes. By definition, it is one of many similar such institutions, none having any particular claim towards people, culture or other public matters. Church has assumed an existence more or less parallel to a business, though sometimes enjoying certain taxation privileges (as do some other businesses).

For the purposes of our thought, I will suggest a different model. Suppose this thing called “the State,” decides to contract out all of its various services (this is indeed taking place increasingly). The military, the police, construction, social services, etc., would all be different private corporations. Prisons in some states are already managed in this way. The private contractors working for the military toeday even includes some who exercise a military function (i.e. they kill people and blow up things). In this contracted arrangement, what would remain would be a concept called “the State,” but, in reality, was only a collection of businesses doing various jobs. What would “State” mean? To what would people belong?

Such an exercise is useful in teasing out the notion of “belonging” to a State. “I am an American; I am a Canadian,” etc. In my thought experiment, you would be a person who lived in a territory serviced by some collection of companies.

Let’s turn to the Church. The classical Christian teaching is that the Church is the mystical Body of Christ. It is never described as a business or a corporation. It doesn’t have to have buildings. Properly, it is not simply a manifestation of the “religious” sphere of our lives, for there is nothing in a Christian life that is not rightly united to God. “Church” is not an affiliation – it is an organic communion and belonging.

What is interesting to me is how much the modern nation-state resembles the Church. We “belong” to it; we are “members” of it; we can even speak of the “Body Politic”; we identify with it (in a manner than supersedes free-will). You are a citizen of the nation-state by birth – no one asks you to join. You not only allow this arrangement, but accept that, like it or not, you have some sort of nation-state connectedness with everyone else born here (or otherwise “incorporated” as a citizen). The State has become the one natural entity whose demands supersede all others and can regulate all others. That’s quite something!

The rise of the concept of the nation-state gradually reduced the Church to its present existence as a free-will association, organized for religious purposes –similar to a hobby group.  Both the reduction of the Church and the rise of the nation-state are unintended consequences of the Reformation. Indeed, the most lasting and profound result of the Reformation has been the State’s usurpation of the Church’s role. The State is the de facto Church.

This brings me to the matter of the “separation” of Church and State. My suggestion is that they are never “separate.” Rather, they are locked in a fearful battle until the end of the age. They do not and cannot co-exist simply because they offer mutually contradictory claims. The Church might endure the State (as constituted in modernity), but it should never agree to the claims and assertions of the State.

The State (particularly in its modern manifestation) represents a rival claimant to the Kingdom of God. In its concept of secularism, it declares that there exists a space in which God has no claims. It boldly and clearly proclaims that it has no God but itself. The various civil proclamations concerning God (“In God we trust,” etc.) are but echoes of a time when the Church and the State were differently conceived. At present, it is language without content, a hollow mocking of an earlier time.

The battle is eschatological in nature and is clearly describe in St. John’s Apocalypse:

Then the seventh angel sounded: And there were loud voices in heaven, saying, “The kingdoms of this world have become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ, and He shall reign forever and ever!” (Rev 11:15)

This proclamation does not say that the kingdoms of this world disappear. That, perhaps, would be more in line with the secular claims of present modern theory. Rather, it declares that the battle is finished and what the kingdoms of this world wrongly claimed for themselves has been rightly restored to the only true and living King.

What does this mean for Christians in this world?

It does not make us into anarchists. Christians are the ultimate monarchists: we believe that Christ is King and God (cf. the service of Holy Baptism). It does not mean that we refuse to obey just laws and respect leaders. We do not, however, agree to their ontological demands. They do not own what they claim – particularly when it comes to the lives and loyalties of human beings. “The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof.” There are not two owners.

We tolerate the pretense of the nation-state in patient forbearance. However, the modern narrative of the nation-state as the locus and means of progress, justice, indeed the Kingdom itself, must never be accepted by the faithful. The State is, at best, a convenience.

In our daily lives, it means we refuse to embrace the anxieties of the modern project. The convenience of the state is not the arena of the Kingdom of God. Its justice and injustice are not the righteousness of God.

Historically, the Church has lived in a clear tension with the State. Though it has become common for many to tout the so-called “Constantinian Shift” as some major turning point in the life of the Church, the Church neither then, nor later, agreed to the anything beyond the State as convenience. The story of the Church and Emperor is one of constant battles. Emperors sought to work their will on the Church while the Church consistently and persistently resisted. That battle continued up until the Reformation, at which time a new peace was inaugurated in which the Church agreed (in practice) to cede to the State all its demands. The recurring conflicts between Church and State have largely disappeared – not because the Church found its freedom – but because the Church in the new arrangement ceased to matter.

There is a reason that various leaders and states have persecuted the Church from time to time. It was seen as a rival, both to their own claims to unbridled power and authority as well as to their interpretation of the world. For the Church does not make claims about religion. It proclaims the truth of God, the truth of being human, and the nature of the world itself and all life within it. Wherever the Church fulfills its true calling in Christ, the state will perceive its rivalry and the tensions that have often erupted in history will be renewed. Wherever the Church ignores its true calling in Christ, its existence is of no consequence, allowing it to abide in an irrelevant peace.

About Fr. Stephen Freeman

Fr. Stephen is a priest of the Orthodox Church in America, Pastor Emeritus of St. Anne Orthodox Church in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. He is also author of Everywhere Present and the Glory to God podcast series.



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104 responses to “Church and State Are Not Separate – They Are at War”

  1. Michael Bauman Avatar
    Michael Bauman

    Mark, the discussion of violence goes one of two ways: either abstract in which it is quite easy to see it is not a good thing; or micro-specific in which it is easily justified.

    As you note we live in an increasingly violent world in which governments are doing less and less to protect their citizens while more frequently using obvious vilolence to gain their political aims, even violence against their own.

    Humanity itself is under attack.

    Clearly without some use of deadly force we would suffer greater violence. I do not believe that recognizing God’s Providence necessarily equates to any sort of determinism as many modern Christian pacifists hold.

    Evil makes use of physical means to advance evil. Sometimes such evil must becountered with physical force. The difficulty is knowing when, where, how and how much.

  2. Mark Northey Avatar
    Mark Northey

    Michael;
    we disagree. I think a careful, sympathetic read of my comment above contains an answer to your points. However if absolute nonviolence is too much for you I will happily stand in solidarity with an effort at least at *less* violence. And hopefully we can agree that military killing for the modern American state in the name of its rather shrouded and obscured from view secular interests (these are certainly not defensive wars! There is no battle line on American soil), is radically different than soldiering in defensive wars on small scale lines with non-industrialized weaponry, for the Christian Byzantine Empire.
    To use arguments in defense of the latter (Byzantine defensive soldiering) to support military activity in the former (modern killing on vast scales with distance weaponry, for (secular) “national interests”) is a grotesque act of moral equivocacy.
    Perhaps you would find a time to kill (in defense of your loved ones say). But surely this occasion is not secular American interests. Please see my friend Andrew’s article above (July 4th), to see this unpacked.

    I respect you.
    Peace;
    -Mark Basil

  3. Joseph Barabbas Theophorus Avatar

    Mark,

    I would not suggest that the current barbarisms, with the US and other countries running around starting wars for reasons that are simultaneously obscure yet clearly wrong, are very comparable to a defensive engagement, either. But your earlier post(s) seems to go far beyond that reading and posit once again that violence itself is wrong. Not only do I think that is incorrect, but the dichotomy of shedding blood for some kind of “justice” vs. being nonviolent for Christ is also a a false choice—Orthodoxy soundly critiques the idea of worldly justice so that was never a real option for us and is not even part of the Orthodox reasoning. And I would also remind everyone that nonviolence is *not* necessarily more trusting or reliant on God. In our modern age, where passivity is almost inbred, I think nonviolence can be just as cowardly. The issue is not violence or nonviolence, but trust in Christ, which is a very active, difficult thing.

    You are correct that we must look to history through the right lens. But before reinterpreting anything through a lens, we need to make sure the lens is not only the correct one, but also free of debris and clear of cracks and scratches. The lens of nonviolence, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to be the right fit—it doesn’t give us the Paschal narrative. Without rehashing an earlier discussion, here are some more points. If nonviolence is the cipher we are to use, then are nonviolent people necessarily closer to Christ? That doesn’t seem to square with the teachings of The Church at all. And what of Christ? Why did He die for us, if nonviolence is something that was available to us before The Cross—is His death reduced to an example to imitate? And what of the Divine Nature? If we’re reading nonviolence as the chief virtue and marker of Divinity, then what does that say about the Divine? How can Divinity be based on an antiposition (not apophatically but kataphatically opposed to some *created* thing), and an antiposition that involves so much passivity—doesn’t this create another “Prime Mover” problem? Next, what is Uncreated Light in this lens of nonviolence? And what is the Incarnation even for—if what we need is nonviolence, what exactly does The God-Man do for us ontologically? I think all these questions show how the idea of nonviolence, instead of interpreting the Orthodox Faith, really short circuits it in a way not dissimilar to other modernistic philosophies.

    As for your examples, the city argument is debatable: is not Eden the first city, in a way? But it wasn’t abandoned because of violence—the issue was disobedience. The Flood was not due to mere physical violence, either—and it is possible the term is not used to describe that form of violence at all—but because of fleshliness and issues of the heart: see God’s lament in Genesis 6:5. Similarly, the issue of a king for Israel doesn’t seem to be about nonviolence or even a problem with a specific type of government structure, but one of the heart: will the people look to pattern their nation after God, or after the world? Moving on to David, if we’re going to read allegorically we must do so more consistently—we need to unpack what God told him in 1 Chronicles. What is the violence, and what are the wars, but violence and wars in his own heart that he kindled against God because of his passions? To say this refers to physical violence doesn’t make much sense, because Moses, who consecrated the Ark and even initiated the priesthood, killed a man on at least one occasion (the Egyptian), and that is no way disqualified him from what was arguably a more lofty position and construction. But, just as Moses was not permitted to enter the Promised Land because of *disobediently* giving his people *water* to drink (Numbers 20), so it makes more sense that David was forbidden not for obediently slaying God’s enemies, but for taking, on his own initiative and for his own passions, the life of Uriah. And don’t forget the other great saints of the OT, like Joshua, who were commanded by God to violence. And Abraham, who we heard in the first of tonight’s readings at Vespers, was given *bread and wine* by Melchizedek *as he was returning from the slaughter* (see also Hebrews for that detail—that he didn’t just pursue or even kill but utterly slaughtered his enemies is so important that St. Paul adds it in in his *Christian*, *Paschal* reading of the story). There was no purification, no fasting, no “Well wait just a minute…”—the slaughter was his “precommunion fast” and purification, which is wild to think about, but that is what The Scriptures teach, when read as St. Paul read them.

    As for Christ, we cannot ignore all the people He slew in The OT (for He Is The God of The OT), The NT (Ananias and Sapphira—maybe we could say that the Holy Spirit did that one, but I don’t think that changes the gist of the argument in any meaningful way), and beyond. As Fr. Stephen has written, it is not uncommon for Protestant theology to treat Christ’s Incarnation as something of an exception to Who He Is, for, as they posit, He *really* just wants to judge us and so on. But we must be careful not to fall into the opposite trap and discount Who He Eternally Is as revealed through the rest of The Scriptures, from Genesis to Revelation—that kind of distinction was very strongly condemned by the same early Fathers you’re bringing up as examples in your post. Next, the early Church was not some pristine thing that we fell from—that again doesn’t seem to be Orthodox teaching—and it was hardly without its troubles. I would have to look this one up more carefully, but it is even possible that we had more soldier saints, percentage-wise, in the first few centuries than at any time since, which is hardly an argument for strict nonviolence. Sure, many were martyrs, but their being soldiers doesn’t make them less martyrs or less saints in any way. And as for Constantine, I did not see his private vision or hear his private word (what he saw and heard that he did not describe in his retelling of seeing the sign of The Cross), but how do we know that he didn’t obey God very precisely in all this, down to the smallest details of troop movement and pursuit? To bring back the analogy of the lens, if our lens starts making our saints look like something other than followers of Christ, we need to question our lens first, not the saint.

    Onto the last section you wrote, violence need not be self-defending nor is nonviolence magically selfless. Trying to say that “we look forward and not backward to know our identity” is very troubling to me, as that reminds me of many of the posts Fr. Stephen has written on the modern project and “doing better”. Since nonviolence as we know it is simply another philosophy of modernity, where does Jesus even fit in, and how is He even necessary to this paradisaical vision of an earthly kingdom? I think this is the very same trap that the empires you criticized fell into; you have a different philosophical idea at heart, sure, but it is still going to fall short of Truth, which is not ideal but Personal. Our identity is not in the past or the future (or in nonviolence), but in Christ. And our job is not to usher in some mythical kingdom of nonviolence on earth, but to die to ourselves in obedience to Christ, in whatever form His Will reveals. I’m not saying we don’t sop trying, but that effort has to be towards self-emptying, not another form of empire-building. I agree that civilization is founded on death, but not the way you wrote—true civilization is founded on Christ’s death, not Cain’s. Sure, we made it into a murder because of our sins, but that level of kenosis, to the point of death, is intimately woven into Divine Providence—it is not a “Plan B” but a revelation of Christ Himself. Rather, His death allows us to even have civilization in the first place, to live together in harmony and *true* peace, which is from the Holy Spirit. So what we need is not less grinding, but more people willing to *be ground*, not less violence, but more Spirit.

    Finally, to comment briefly on nonviolence in The Beatitudes, Fr. John Breck, who I am only passingly familiar with, writes that The Beatitiudes are a chiatsic structure, so the “crescendo” is actually at the middle; I don’t have his book in front of me (nor do I recall if he believes this is a single or double center), but my quick parsing would make the high point “Blessed are the merciful”. This is very Orthodox teaching and a very active virtue, on a completely different axis than nonviolence: we are called to kenotic forgiveness, what I like to break down into “fore giveness” or first giving, which is not passive at all but involves a lot of violence [especially to self] in one form or another and complete death. But even if we ignore the idea of chiamus and treat The Beatitudes linearly, the culmination is not in making [worldly] peace or being nonresistant—it isn’t even in being persecuted (which is *not* nonresistance, but far, far greater than it). If you read it carefully, the last beatitude is a bit cryptic but stares us right in the face every time we sing it: the admonition to “Rejoice and be exceedingly glad…”. If we must use an ideal lens to view the world, apart from the Only True Lens, Christ Himself, Who Is not an idea, then thanksgiving is at the top of the list and marks one of the highest virtues we can ever attain. That brings us back somewhat nicely with what Fr. Stephen has been teaching us all along, as was given to him by the saints. And so all I have left to say, to “activate” my lens and drive away the confusion of modern philosophy and sophistry, is “Glory to God for all things!”. Amen.

  4. Paula Avatar
    Paula

    JBT,
    Thank! You!
    Now over to check out your website…if it’s as good as your post, I’ll be delighted.

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