Docetic Politics

Our humanity matters...but it's being lost.

Photo credit: www.stmatthewsnewports.com

One of the earliest Christian heresies was that of docetism. This heretical claim argued that Jesus only appeared to have a human body (deriving from the Greek “to seem”). It expressed itself either through the absolute rejection of a human body associated with Jesus or that Jesus held a human body while Christ did not. It was rejected at the Council of Nicea in 325 AD as a failure to steward biblical Christology faithfully. If Jesus was not fully God and fully human, then our salvation was jeopardized. Christ could not save what he wasn’t.

Even though it was decisively defeated as a doctrine, its residue remains. We continue to feel the need to explain the connection between the body and spirit of Christ. What was expressed as a profound mystery by the earliest councils has become a thorn in the modern church, post-Enlightenment imagination (or lack thereof). We find ourselves arguing Nestorian arrangements of Christ’s parts (50% of each in the person of Jesus, also a heresy) or overcompensating to the Ebionite claim that Christ was fully human, an exemplary prophet (equally a heresy). Our failure to embrace mystery amid our hyper-rational worldview has disenchanted our theology. Rather than submit in wonder to the God-man, we scientifically attempt to control the narrative and eschew any mystery that might invite us to worship.

We should not be surprised that if we’re suspicious of Christ's two natures, our suspicion will naturally spill over into a questionable view of humanity. How do the two natures relate to us? What is spirit? What is mind? Where does the body stop and the mind begin? Is the mind simply the brain? How do we differentiate emotions and reason?

If we are made in the image of God and Jesus is God in the flesh. The relationship between Christology and anthropology is as simple as looking in the mirror and realizing your humanity is directly tied to the imago Dei.

American politics has been reduced to a very pessimistic docetism. We don’t see humanity first. Instead, we see a person’s politics (and the worst version of those politics). I’ve talked with those who vote Republican who cannot imagine being friends with a Democrat and vice versa. These two voters have much in common, but whether they float a D or an R matters more than their shared humanity.

We kill one another by simply disregarding the other’s humanity. Both sides stoke fear. Both sides act like their candidate for the White House cares about them individually. Both are lulled into a failure to understand power distance and that their neighbor who voted differently should be more responsive to their needs than whoever occupies 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Friends, we are in a divided America. This past week, I had an exhausting number of conversations with people on both ends of the political spectrum. I consider them all friends. Some were triumphalistic about what a Trump presidency could do to recover from a perceived loss. The other side was fatalistic and sure of the end of democracy. But the way they spoke of the other side was unChristian. But when you engage in pessimistic docetic politics, we should not be surprised. By the way, this is what social media has done to us. We don’t neighbor; we merely consume information shaped by our biases.

Our identities are complex and demand nuance and care. I am more than who I vote for; I care about many things when I walk into the voting booth. To my progressive friends, it is wrong to assume that all Trump voters hate minorities and worship him. To my conservative friends, it is equally as bad to think that those who voted for Harris are all elitist and care only about a hyper-progressive agenda.

The way forward is to reject a docetic anthropology that views everyone through a mere red or blue lens. Please stop telling me that the other side did it first. That’s childish! I’m appalled that the vilest versions of ourselves are spewed on social media for all to consume. I’m unsure if I’m sickened more by the initial outrage or the cronyism of feeds whereby people label the latest outburst as “courageous” or “speaking up.” In the end, I’m exhausted. Indeed, there is a better way for us to behave. Donald Trump will not see your Facebook page. More than likely, someone who voted for him (quietly) will now know to avoid you. If you are worried about a dystopian future, your posture, albeit one of grief and frustration, will make sure your self-fulfilling prophecy comes to fruition.

Here are a few things we can do to jettison this docetic politic. First, have diverse friendships. Friendship is not ideological agreement. Friendship is the cohabitating of space around a common cause. Second, reject social media outrage. In the end, it is corrosive and only destroys the container. Third, in community, embrace complexity and nuance. Truly listen to the other side, not to convince, but with the goal of understanding. It’s okay to disagree over serious issues. You can still be friends. Fourth, invest in local conversations about history and civics. America has been more divided than this. As a historical theologian, I roll my eyes. We had a flippin’ civil war, folks! Also, civics will remind you of the value of three branches of government, that we’re actually a democratic republic, and that the electoral college is a good thing.

Friends, I strive to practice what I preach in my quest to be a person who builds bridges. But it isn't easy being a bridge person in these trying times. The narcissism of the world takes its toll. Yet I show up in love, even when I’m tired. I show up because docetism, then and now, is a heresy. We must continue to reject it, then reject it again, and embrace the beauty of humanity as the space in which divinity and earth embrace. Jesus took on human flesh, not a political party, and we should be forever grateful that he did.