To a fascinating degree, the analysis and realignment that Thorne
and Rivers offer is complicated by the fact that their proposals run
parallel to and even require (or at least would be facilitated by) cooperation
with the agenda of white evangelicals. Tragically, that community's
widespread racism and neglect of economic justice for the past half-century
have largely positioned white evangelicals as the enemy of black progress.
To understand this dilemma and search for solutions, we need to remember
a bit of twentieth-century American history and reflect on the ongoing
debate between Christian theists and philosophical naturalists.
With a few minor exceptions, white evangelicals were at best silent
and more often critical when Martin Luther King Jr. and his allies battled
for civil rights. There were at least two reasons. The first was simply
white racism. A white evangelical community that a century earlier had
championed the abolitionist movement largely ignored or firmly opposed
King's civil rights crusade1, surely one of
white evangelicalism's greatest—and most racist—failures.
There was also a second reason why most white evangelicals were on
the wrong side in the civil rights movement. At the turn of the twentieth
century, American Protestantism split into two warring camps. The Social
Gospel movement (influenced by a liberal theology that was deeply shaped
by the philosophical deism and naturalism of the Enlightenment) focused
on important structural changes that would promote justice, such as
organizing unions and passing minimum-wage legislation. Believing that
Social Gospelers emphasized systemic evil and structural change to the
neglect of personal sin and inner spiritual transformation, white evangelicals
focused largely on preaching and personal conversion. Hence Jerry Falwell's
complaint that King should stick to preaching and stay away from politics.
When, a couple of decades later, Falwell and other white evangelicals
changed their mind about the validity of political engagement, the majority
embraced the Republican Party, which, as Thorne and Rivers point out,
was not exactly responsive to black concerns.
It is not hard to see why black leadership has for decades worked far
more closely with liberal, often secular (and overwhelmingly Democratic)
groups than with white evangelicals. But that poses a problem for Thorne
and Rivers. Why? Because their agenda runs parallel to that of white
evangelicals at striking points. Most obvious is their willingness to
work with a Bush administration whose most faithful constituency is
widely perceived to be white evangelicals. But Thorne and Rivers also
seem to support a whole cluster of conservative things, including traditional
sexual norms, a greater emphasis on wholesome two-parent families, and,
especially, a much greater role for churches in overcoming poverty.
In fact, on the ground, many of the most effective working models of
highly successful black, church-related social ministries place a lot
of emphasis on inner spiritual conversion through personal faith.2
Whether one thinks of Rivers's Ten-Point Coalition in Boston, Rev. Floyd
Flake in New York, Rev. Benjamin Smith (Rivers's spiritual mentor) in
Philadelphia, or the six hundred holistic, church-based social ministries
in Dr. John Perkins's national Christian Community Development Association,
they all believe that one central component of any lasting solution
to the desperate brokenness of America's inner cities is precisely the
personal spiritual conversion that transformed Rivers from a gang member
into a preacher. In short, the causes of urban decay are both personal
and structural, and the solutions must include not only good public
policies that deliver quality education, universal health coverage,
and a job paying a living wage—but also spiritual transformation
of broken persons through personal faith.3
The problem is that the secular allies of the old black leadership
do not understand or even reject outright the role of inner spiritual
transformation. For decades, if churches wanted to partner with government,
they had to water down the religious components of their social programs
even though there is reason to think this may be precisely why they
are so effective. It is white evangelical John Ashcroft's Charitable
Choice legislation and President Bush's new White House Office of Faith-based
and Community Initiatives—which, apart from a few noisy exceptions,
white evangelicals enthusiastically embrace—that now offer an
opportunity for black churches to partner with government in a new way
in their social ministries without needing to jettison the component
of spiritual transformation. While the ACLU and other secular allies
of the old black leadership fight the new faith-based initiatives, white
evangelicals and conservative Republicans offer an open hand.4
It is important to understand the deep philosophical disagreement that
underlies the debate. Both black Christians and white evangelicals stand
squarely within the tradition of historic Christian theism and therefore
disagree sharply with the philosophical naturalism that undergirds secular
liberal thought. Christian theists—and the ministers and grass-roots
folk running many of the most successful faith-based ministries—understand
persons as free body-soul unities created in the image of God. In this
worldview, no area of a person's life can be adequately considered in
isolation from the spiritual, and spiritual well-being has a profound
effect on the psychological, physical, social, and economic dimensions
of a person's life. Spiritual nurture is not a substitute for material
and therapeutic aid, but is a vital complement.
A vibrant personal faith, these people claim, endows life with meaning
and purpose, overcoming the grip of nihilism and despair; brings a new
sense of dignity and worth, countering the stigmatizing effects of poverty;
introduces and strengthens an ethical framework that discourages destructive
social behavior; and offers hope for the future, motivating positive
steps toward change. The unconditional forgiveness central to the Christian
doctrine of grace offers a powerful liberation from enervating feelings
of guilt and failure. Christian theologians—whether Saint Augustine,
John Calvin, Mother Teresa, James Cone, or John Wesley—all teach
that personal faith in Christ brings a supernatural power that transforms
the very heart and character of believers, enabling them to live differently,
saying no to drugs and yes to family responsibilities. In addition,
the community of believers offers a network of caring friends who provide
emotional, spiritual, and material support. Further, the Bible's prophetic
tradition empowers people in need to join in the work of seeking justice
and community restoration. For all these reasons, many Christian agencies
seek an integrated, holistic approach that embraces the best of the
medical and social sciences but also seeks to nurture personal faith.
This approach contrasts with the naturalistic worldview that for decades
has dominated the academic world, elite media, social work profession,
and policy circles (including major parts of the Democratic Party).
As Carl Sagan argued, nature is all that exists and science is the only
avenue to knowledge; people are "soulless creatures," as Glenn Loury
has summarized this view. Therefore, technical, professional knowledge
and skills are sufficient to solve social problems. The way to eliminate
negative social behavior and reduce poverty is to change the environment,
modify the economic incentives, or apply a medical or therapeutic treatment
regimen. Programs may appeal to general moral principles or civic values,
but reference to an alleged spiritual dimension is irrelevant to the
task of solving social problems.
According to holistic Christian organizations, however, such an approach
does not address the whole person, and thus can only get at part of
the problem. Without the freedom to address spiritual issues—indeed,
to lead persons to personal faith—staff at faith-base organizations
believe the effectiveness of their programs would be crippled.
Obvious problems for secular people surface at this point. Opening
a social-service program with a perfunctory prayer is generally considered
acceptable, but inviting others to saving faith in Jesus Christ or teaching
biblical standards of moral conduct is quite another matter. How should
secular folk respond to Thorne's and Rivers's call for expanding the
role of pervasively religious social ministries and welcoming President
Bush's new White House office? Five quick points.
First, welcoming faith-based organizations to the social service table
is the position most consistent with the important civic value of tolerance.
Too often in our highly pluralistic society, tolerance is understood
to mean that we welcome all voices in the public arena except those
making exclusive claims to truth. But that confuses tolerance with relativism.
Tolerance is fully compatible with vigorous disagreement. The only genuinely
tolerant position is to welcome all voices, including those that claim
that some other voices are wrong. Non-religious funders seeking to promote
a healthy pluralism can and should fund social service providers grounded
in mutually exclusive worldviews, so long as these providers demonstrate
that they are successfully producing the desired public goods (e.g.,
job training, drug rehabilitation, etc.) and respect the freedom of
others even as they disagree with them.
Second, non-religious funders (including governments) can best fulfill
a policy of religious neutrality by providing equal access to benefits
for all successful social programs, without attention to their religious
views. Obviously, supporting only holistic programs grounded in theistic
assumptions would constitute discrimination against non-theistic worldviews.
On the other hand, it is equally discriminatory to fund only secular
programs and/or religiously affiliated programs with a largely secular
methodology. The only non-discriminatory—that is, the only truly
liberal—approach is to adopt a methodologically neutral
stance that offers equal opportunity for funding to all providers, religious
or not, so long as they produce the desired outcomes—namely, services
that serve the common good. (Does that mean that non-religious funders
should fund the religious aspects of faith-based organizations? Not
at all!)
Third, Charitable Choice legislation provides a model that private,
secular funders can also follow for supporting the social service work
of faith-based organizations without funding religion. Section 104 of
the 1996 welfare law specifies that direct government funds must not
be used for "inherently religious" activities defined as "sectarian
worship, instruction, or proselytization." Faith-based organizations,
however, may raise private money to fund these inherently religious
activities and include them in their program, so long as clients' participation
is optional. Charitable Choice also specifies that agencies cannot select
or reject clients on the basis of religion, that participants must freely
choose the religious provider, and that a secular alternative must be
available. In this way, Charitable Choice legislation protects both
the religious freedom of participants and the religious integrity of
faith-based organizations, as well as protecting against government
establishment of religion.
Fourth, broadening the range of providers offers an important opportunity
to discover what kinds of organizations and programs best meet social
needs, and to investigate the truth of claims made by proponents of
a faith-based approach.
For all the attention being given to faith-based social services, there
is an astonishing lack of research data about their scope and effectiveness.
We do know that a significant number of the service providers in needy
urban areas are highly religious; that they often report higher success
rates than more secular providers; and that many attribute these higher
success rates, at least to a significant degree, to their deeply religious
program components. Yet there has been little documentation of their
outcomes (in part because they have been excluded from government and
secular funding sources), and even fewer comparisons between secular
and faith-based programs. There are a handful of studies, like that
of Teen Challenge, plus a lot of powerful stories of the dramatic transformation
of broken persons through personal faith. As John DiIulio likes to say,
however, the plural of anecdote is not data. What is the objective—dare
I say "scientific?"—response to this situation?
I suggest that major non-religious funders (including government) fund
a wide range of eligible providers, both religious and secular; insist
on careful record-keeping and participation in scholarly studies as
part of the grant; and fund careful research on methods and outcomes.
Let the best comparative studies of our top social scientists expand
our knowledge of what works best and why. Ten years from now, we will
be able to say with considerably more certainty whether, other things
being equal, religious providers with a holistic approach are more or
less successful than secular, or nominally affiliated, providers. We
will also be better able to identify what factors distinguish the most
successful programs across the religious spectrum. With this information,
secular funders can replace a blanket prohibition against aid to religious
organizations with more wisely targeted support that replicates and
expands the most effective, efficient models, thereby saving foundation
and tax dollars.
Surely secular thinkers, with their long liberal tradition of searching
for truth as objectively as possible, ought to lead the demand for more
sophisticated, unbiased comparative studies of what works and why in
combating our most desperate social problems. To exclude deeply religious,
holistic faith-based providers from this process of funding and evaluation
would be the height of illiberal prejudice.
Fifth and finally, secular folk should seek to expand the resources
and opportunities available to faith-based organizations to further
the common goal of caring for human needs. Regardless of whether these
organizations work better than non-religious agencies, the documented
bottom line is that they do provide many essential services. In many
distressed communities, faith-based organizations are among the only
entities that provide consistent service. Church-based programs in particular
are often more trusted by neighborhood residents than government agencies,
and are better able to develop long-term relationships of support and
accountability with people in need. Further, faith-based agencies are
often able to maximize the efficient use of funds because of their access
to resources such as volunteers and in-kind donations. For all these
reasons, collaborations with faith-based agencies offer the hope of
extending effective aid to the people who need it most.
Everyone should welcome a process that promises to further genuine
tolerance, religious freedom, the pursuit of truth, governmental efficiency,
and the search for better solutions to some of our nation's most intractable
social problems. If that requires a surprising ecclesiastical and political
realignment, so be it. •
Ronald J. Sider is professor of theology and culture at Eastern
Baptist Theological Seminary and president of Evangelicals for Social
Action. He is also publisher of PRISM.
Return to the forum on faith
in politics, with Eva Thorne, Eugene Rivers, and responses.
1 Fortunately, there were exceptions: Fred and John Alexander's
Freedom Now, which became The Other Side; Jim Wallis's Post-American,
which became the Sojourners movement; and the cluster of "young evangelicals"
that issued the "Chicago Declaration of Evangelical Social Concern," which
led to Evangelicals for Social Action, among others.
2 They also emphasize social action, including politics,
because the black church never fell into the same dichotomy between
preaching and social ministry that bedeviled the white church in the
twentieth century.
3 In my Just Generosity: A New Vision for Overcoming
Poverty in America (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker, 1999), I develop
in detail both the public-policy and the civil-society (especially faith-based)
initiatives needed for a comprehensive, successful reduction of American
poverty.
4 Like Thorne and Rivers, I still have a heavy dose of skepticism
when other Republican policies (e.g., the huge Bush tax, which is cut
slanted overwhelmingly to the rich) undermine the new faith-based initiatives.