Threats to Democracy: A Theological Response

Abstract

This paper adopts a theological perspective to reflect on the question of what a response by Christian churches, and individual Christians, should be vis-à-vis current threats to democracy. The paper proceeds in three steps. First, an analysis of the problem, with a particular regard to the European context, is provided by exploring some examples of the contemporary threats to democracy. Second, a number of approaches are outlined based on theological resources in order to address the problem constructively and to build resilience. Finally, an argument is made that hope represents the criterion that should give orientation and sustain Christian deliberation on and engagement in society, including political life. While shaped by the Protest background and affiliation of its author and written from the post-communist, Central European context, this paper strives for a wider ecumenical outlook and engagement, seeking a broader relevance and implications beyond the boundaries of Christian churches.

Introduction

Based on principles of liberty and free will, democracy is a system of government in which state power is vested in the people (see Dahl et al., 2024). It ‘provides an environment that respects human rights and fundamental freedoms, and in which the freely expressed will of people is exercised’ (United Nations, n. d.). Features of democracy often include freedom of religion and speech, freedom of assembly and association, voting rights, property rights, citizenship, freedom from unwarranted governmental deprivation of the right to life and liberty, and minority rights (see Wikipedia, n. d.). However, in many parts of the world today, democracy – either as a system or its certain dimensions (e.g., its liberal nature, the emphasis on minority rights, etc.) – is questioned, challenged, curtailed, or suppressed. Christians are often part of these dynamics, finding themselves playing a wide range of roles from victims through bystanders and silent supporters to active drivers of these changes. Now, while it is certainly legitimate that Christianity can well endorse other political regimes than democracy (and, indeed, it has throughout most of its history), I would still argue that democracy is the most fitting system of government that we currently know due to its emphases on the inalienable dignity and worth of each individual human being and the balance between the will of the majority and the minority.

This paper is not written by a political theorist. It adopts a theological perspective to reflect on the question of what a response by Christian churches, and individual Christians, should be vis-à-vis current threats to democracy. ¹ The paper will proceed in three steps. First, an analysis of the problem will be provided by exploring some examples of the contemporary threats to democracy. Second, a number of approaches will be outlined based on theological resources in order to address the problem constructively and to build resilience. Finally, it will be asserted that hope represents the criterion that should give orientation and sustain Christian deliberation on and engagement in society, including political life. While this paper is written from the post-communist, Central European context, I believe it has a broader relevance and implications.

Threats to Democracy: Analyzing the Problem

The aim of this section is not to provide a full list of all possible threats to democracy. Rather, I will explore a number of issues that I believe lie at the core of the problem. The first of them is populism. Similarly to religion, actually, populism is closely linked to the relational nature of human existence. Populism can be briefly characterized as the concept of a homogeneous ‘people,’ pitted against another people. What is crucial, though, is that the notion of ‘other people’ is theorized and propagated as a threat to the integrity and, indeed, the very existence of ‘the people’ that populists claim to represent (see Sverker, 2022: 264; see also Müller, 2017). To pursue that objective, populism employs various means and resources. Religion can easily become one of them when it is instrumentalized as ‘a protective shield of sameness against otherness’ (Stålsett, 2022: 285). What is essentially at play here is that religion in populist rhetoric becomes a means toward disrupting democratic institutions by labeling certain groups within the population as ‘not belonging’ or ‘not quite like us’ based on different religious and/or cultural belonging. In turn, this arrangement poses a lure also for religion, as religious communities may in turn receive from political players certain privileges. Naturally, Christian churches are not exempt from these dynamics as, for example, the discourse of so-called ‘Christian Europe’ or the USA as a ‘Christian nation’ clearly indicate. In this context, then, the notion of ‘Christian Europe’ is employed as a way for excluding others from full participation in European societies.

Following this logic, alliance between religion and populist politics poses a threat for both democracy and religious communities (see Stålsett, 2022: 285). To navigate this two-fold potentiality, the notion Christianism has been introduced as opposed to Christian faith (Brubaker, 2017: 1199). Christianism does not shy away from making ‘secularized’ references to Christianity, so that the cultural or civilizational dimension of ‘belonging rather than believing’ is highlighted. Spirituality, reading and interpretation of sacred scriptures, and participation in worship services are considered of minor significance. In a word, in Christianism, religion has become a force toward shaping identity in a way that erodes the democratic character of (European) society. As a result, this situation raises a theological question for Christians to reflect on what believing in God and being Christian means today in (Central and Eastern) Europe (and beyond) where the church stands for an institution with direct cultural and national links. To put it differently, the challenge for a theologically acute Christian existence lies in the need to respond constructively to the instrumentalization of Christianity against the other, a process which imminently contributes to erosion of democracy (see Bargár, 2024: 279).

The second threat to democracy that I would like to discuss is nationalism. I acknowledge that there are many understandings of both ‘nation’ and ‘nationalism.’ David Fergusson, for instance, argues that while the loyalty required by the nation from all its members, including the church, ‘can threaten the allegiance of the baptized to the body of Christ, a polity that transcends language and tribe,’ nationalism can ‘also provide a way of promoting the common good of a people, as well as articulating legitimate protest against tyranny, colonialism and globalizing tendencies’ (Fergusson, 2023: 183). In this context, however, I take nationalism to refer to the intentional and public efforts aimed at forging ‘political belonging out of religious, ethnic, and racial identities, loyalties intended to precede and supersede law’ (Albertson et al., 2019: 2). As such, nationalism is to be distinguished from patriotism as ‘love of the laws [of a country] and loyalty to them over leader or party’ (Albertson et al., 2019: 2). At the same time, it is intimately connected with the previously discussed populism as it too seeks to construe a ‘people’ (or, a ‘nation’) as a uniform entity to be pitted against another people/nation. Fundamentally, I suggest, both nationalism and populism are rooted in the fear of the unknown (xenophobia) and pay an undue tribute to one's own identity, thus potentially producing a volatile mix, which appeals to the ‘dark side’ of humanity leading to hateful attitudes and actions (see Bargár, 2024: 267–268).

In 2019, twenty-seven US American Christian intellectuals, theologians, pastors, and educators across denominations and political leanings published an open letter addressing the theological flaws and political dangers of what they referred to as ‘the new nationalism.’ The context they wrote from was the rise of deadly violence and the demonization of vulnerable minorities incited by the politics promoted by the Trump administration as well as the eagerness of some Christians to embrace nationalism as compatible with Christian faith (see Albertson et al., 2019: 2). Their objections can be summarized as follows. First, nationalism usurps from people their highest loyalties, denying that all people as the bearers of God's image are to be viewed as one's neighbor. Second, nationalism tends to homogenize the church to a single ethnos, rejecting the diversity that God wills. Third, nationalism is often accompanied by racism and xenophobia; the authors claim unequivocally that ‘white supremacist ideology is the work of the anti-Christ’ (Albertson et al., 2019: 2). Fourth, nationalism claims that the stranger, refugee, and migrant are enemies of the people. Finally, nationalism has a penchant for despairing when unable to monopolize power and dominate opponents. These traits make nationalism a threat for both democratic political life and the integrity of Christian faith (see Albertson et al., 2019: 2 and 4).

The third topic I would like to foreground as a threat to democracy is, again, intimately related to the previous two as it represents, in a certain sense, an implication of populism and nationalism. It is polarization. Polarization is not just ‘diversity, disagreement or holding different views’ (Vos, 2023: 1). More seriously, polarization ‘occurs when a fear born of difference transforms into “us-versus-them” thinking’ and, lamentably, ‘shuts down the desire to communicate’ between various groups (Barthold, 2020: 2). From a philosophical perspective, polarization entails a ‘thought construct,’ a frame of reference essentially built on images of opposite poles in which two identities are set against each other: women versus men, black versus white, gay versus straight, Muslim versus Christian (or, Westerner), religious versus secular (see Vos, 2023: 4; Vos cites Brandsma, 2017: 18). Polarization is an activity of dividing that proceeds by way of avoidance and even hostile stereotypes. It is, therefore, not a value-neutral descriptive term but one that implies value judgments. It targets toward creating opposing fractions (see Barthold, 2020: 3; Vos, 2023: 4). And it seems to thrive in the VUCA world of today – a world that is Volatile, Uncertain, Complex, and Ambiguous (see Bowers Du Toit, 2023: 26). ²

The polarization is accompanied by yet another phenomenon, namely, fragmentation. Public discourse becomes increasingly fractured and this is even further exacerbated by the modus operandi of the internet and social media (see Hunsberger Bechtel, 2021: 194). ³ Even though online social platforms seem like places where large numbers of people encounter each other, people actually experience these venues in very personalized segments due to their operational algorithms (see Hunsberger Bechtel, 2021: 194; see also Pariser, 2011). Theologian Richard Bauckham tackles the problem of fragmentation from an alternative angle when he proposes that the atomized society is a consequence of the quest for individual freedom. He argues that people seek to navigate between two fundamental needs: the need to be independent and the need to belong. These two needs – or, one could even say, desires – are often in clash with each other. Socio-economic and cultural factors today, at least in the western world, Bauckham has it, ‘give a strong advantage, in this tension, to individual freedom. Community loses out’ (Bauckham, 2015: 70). This leads to not only fragmentation but also social alienation which, in turn, can often bring about polarization if one's predominant access to the world is through the internet and social media, decisively shaped through particular filter bubbles.

In this section, I have explored some examples of the processes in contemporary society that pose a threat to democracy. What all the phenomena discussed here have in common is that they seek to dominate and exclude the other by introducing this other as a danger for the well-being of society. As such, these phenomena must be challenged on theological grounds. In the following part of the paper, I am going to suggest several approaches to what I believe can be a constructive Christian response to the democracy-threatening phenomena.

Responding Constructively: Theological Approaches

The first approach I would like to explore is that of political theology. Since Christianity is a public religion, Christians relate to structures, entities, and matters that are seen as being of common concern (polis) (see Bargár, 2021: 42). All these things of common concern, or, politics (in a broad sense of the word), refer to the pursuit of forming, norming, and sustaining common life as a necessary condition for human flourishing (see Bretherton, 2019: 2). Political theology then analyzes and critiques political arrangements from ‘the perspective of differing interpretations of God's way with the world’ (Scott and Cavanaugh, 2007: 2). Luke Bretherton describes it as ‘an interpretive art for discovering faithful, hopeful and loving judgments about how to act together in response to shared problems’ (2019: 6). Very practically, this pursuit engages with issues related to eradicating poverty and eliminating injustice; discovering ways to coexist peacefully with others, regardless of whether they are the same as or different from oneself; and transforming the malformities of power from the perspective of the eschaton (see Bargár, 2021: 42–43; Bretherton, 2019: 6 and 22–23).

Viewed this way, democracy – and, for that matter, secularity – are not to be seen dismissively, not to say even antagonistically, but rather as a way to negotiate with fellow non-Christian others how to pursue both God's reign and penultimate goods. In this framework, a theological assessment of democracy and the secular is based on the ability of the latter to foster a just, inclusive, and loving common life (see Bargár, 2021: 43; Bretherton, 2019: 6 and 229). The unique contribution that Christianity can make to democratic politics and society, then, consists in its ability to critically refer beyond politics and economics and to insist on and symbolically intermediate the multidimensionality of human fulfillment (see Bretherton, 2019: 451). M. Shawn Copeland offers a beautiful poetic account of the role of political theology in this process, with a particular regard for healing and creating relationships:

We do political theology because we want to collaborate in a most fundamental way in healing and creating relations in history and society. We want to coax forward a different sociality. Our contribution is to think and rethink, in light of the divine promise of an eschatological future, the manner and effects of the fragile yet resilient webs of relations that constitute the reality in which we live. Our work is to open that sociality to the desire, hope, and loving expectation of something (even Someone) transcendent (2016: 2).

Two biblical examples further elucidate this point. The first is the Hebrew term shalom. This semantically overabundant notion refers not only to the absence of warfare but also, and especially, to ‘a process of living in wholesome relationship with other,’ characterized by mutual trust, integrity in word and deed, and the common good pursued by all involved parties (Klassen, 2005: 338). Shalom integrates peace and life to bring forth the biblical vision and dream of wholeness (see Tizon, 2016: 19). To pursue this vision and dream, shalom calls for both human and non-human involvement and even requires their agency in the process of its divine inauguration and realization.

For the second example we turn to the gospel accounts of Jesus's praxis. Of special relevance to the contemporary political concern are three aspects of this praxis that particularized God's love for different people. First, Jesus did not make any artificial distinctions between the dimensions of human life. For example, his healing of lepers had not only physical but also economic, social, and spiritual effects for that particular person. Second, Jesus met people as individuals but also showed a great appreciation for their social context. It did matter that a particular person was a tax-collector, or a fisherman, or a single mother, or a Pharisee. Third, Jesus showed a preferential option for the marginalized and outcasts (see Bauckham, 2011: 144–145). All these points indicate that Jesus's vision of the reign of God reconfigures the structures of society. In practice, it implies that the rich and the privileged can only find a place in God's kingdom alongside the poor and the underprivileged; God's kingdom is a place for both the righteous and the sinners; and the small child with no social status is introduced as the model of citizenship in God's kingdom (see Bauckham, 2011: 146).

However, what we discussed above is not the only contribution that Christian political theology can make to the discussion on the polis in general, and to the ways of overcoming threats to democracy in particular. Additionally, Christian God-talk (i.e., theology) can help to shape public discourse. According to Pieter Vos, the first task of theology, therefore, seems to be the practice of a ‘hermeneutic of suspicion,’ aimed at unmasking the polarizing and antagonistic effects implied by the tropes of public discourse (2023: 6). There is, nevertheless, a possible trap entailed in the process, as Vos points out. One can be tempted to accept the state of affairs as a given and simply take a position somewhere on the spectrum between the two extremes. Such positioning only further buttresses the division and even widens the gap, preventing one from the possibility of seeing the reality differently (see Vos, 2023: 6). In a persistent effort to challenge and overcome this polarization one should critically, yet generously engage a variety of voices and views. Moreover, engagement with actual people and their experiences is needed, as Kim points out:

Citizens need a range of common experiences to develop a broader understanding of others, and sharing common experiences with different others may lead to social consensus. By contrast if people are not exposed to others’ opinions, they are less likely to be aware of others’ legitimate rationales and even their own rationales. In addition, if people expose themselves only to similar points of view and ignore contrasting perspectives, they are less likely to be tolerant of challenging viewpoints (2015: 917).

The task of political theology, then, lies in facilitating and contributing to this critical and honest dialogue and encounter with various actors in the public arena.

The second approach to be discussed here is pastoral care. While pastoral care undoubtedly accounts for an irreplaceable ministry within the church, it also plays an increasingly crucial role in Christian encounter and engagement with people outside the institutional ecclesial structures, thus reaching out to the arena of public life and having an impact on the functioning of democracy. It is relevant for a growing segment of people who themselves often describe as ‘spiritual but not religious.’ In sociological discourse, the terms ‘nones’ has now been established for these religiously non-affiliated persons (see Fuller, 2017: 572). The term ‘spiritual’ is a keyword here. In this newly coined sociological discourse, it refers to the ‘widespread human desire to seek existential and cosmic meaning by adjusting ourselves to some kind of unseen order’ (Fuller, 2017: 575). ⁴ Being religious then represents a subcategory within the broader semantic field of spirituality. Religious is someone who subscribes to traditional, and mostly institutionalized, ways of pursuing the divine (see Fuller, 2017: 575).

In pastoral care, perhaps more than in other kinds of ministry, the other is met as a fellow human being – concretely, as a fellow human being in need, regardless of their religious and political identity and belonging. Two issues, therefore, should be especially underlined in this respect (see Bargár, 2021: 44). First, extraordinary sensitivity is required. One encounters the other as vulnerable in pastoral settings. Vulnerability is a complex concept that integrates a shared condition of being human but also accounts for a marker of biological and socio-cultural divergences as well as an expression of social inequities and norms (see Leidinger, 2020: 404). Combining the dimensions of materiality, pain and suffering, and resilience, the notion of vulnerability embodies the ambivalence of human existence that is potentially prone to harm, on the one hand, and being open to relate to others in constructive and mutually enriching ways, on the other hand (see Leidinger, 2020: 404 and 407). Reflecting on vulnerability from a systematic theological perspective, Miriam Leidinger writes this:

A theology of vulnerability that truly wants to stand on the side of the most vulnerable, be with those who are left behind, must not fall short on the ambivalence vulnerability entails. […] It means to be cautious to using the God as ‘trump card,’ as a guarantee of Christian affinity to vulnerability (2020: 411 and 412).

Following this logic one can conclude that Christian pastoral care ministry should in no way exploit the vulnerability of the other. The other must always be acknowledged as a real human being, one's equal partner, and a precious creation of God, and never as a potential object of conversion to one's religious denomination (see Bargár, 2021: 44).

This conclusion leads to my second point, namely, that pastoral care should be pursued in a dialogical way. Theologically, this process is rooted in the way God engages with humankind and creation – as a word, an appeal, an invitation, a call, while waiting for a response. Stephen Bevans and Roger Schroeder have coined the phrase ‘prophetic dialogue’ to characterize this modus operandi: one is to meet the other in his or her everyday situation of life, listening to and learning from their wisdom, and recognizing the authenticity of their experience, while at the same time also ‘calling people beyond,’ to conversion and deep transformation that yearns for justice and peace (shalom) for the whole creation (2004: 348–395 and 285).

Being pastorally concerned for someone, then, operates within the framework of several dimensions, including ‘right relationship’; the awareness of responsibility, mutuality, and duties (rather than rights); the struggle against various forms of domination and oppression that violate mutuality and intimacy; and the process of reparation of injustice through liberation from exploitation (see Lebacqz, 1987: 154–160). Based on the principles of reciprocity and interdependence in spiritual, social, and political relations, this approach foregrounds both responsibility and transparency in navigating the complex web of human relationships (see Harrison, 1985: 253). The approach of pastoral care understood as public diakonia which is dialogical in nature and invites others to experience ‘a change of heart’ for the flourishing of human societies (and creation in general) represents another important contribution that Christian churches and theology can make to the theme of addressing and overcoming the threats to democracy.

The final approach to be examined here is discipleship. In the process of discipleship, or the following of Christ, each Christian is invited to creatively explore ways of integrating her or his own story, with its socio-political and cultural specificities, into the broader story of God with creation. Daniela Augustine refers to the process of discipleship as saintliness as it represents an ‘enacted and eyewitnessed holiness in flesh and blood – the life of real human beings united to and moved by/in the Holy Spirit’ (2019: 202). Therefore, I suggest, this dynamic can be referred to as radical, or incarnational, discipleship since the life of each follower of Jesus embodies ‘an authentication of the Incarnation with its scandalous radical particularity’ (Augustine, 2019: 202). Such incarnational/radical discipleship ultimately calls for a personal enacted commitment to the comprehensive well-being of individuals and communities, including the political dimension.

There are several points that can be highlighted in this respect. First, the concept of incarnational/radical discipleship calls one first to a personal transformation which is to be subsequently followed by the quest for a transformation of the environment in which one lives. Following Christ, therefore, is not primarily about being affiliated to a certain church as institution or association, not to say being part of a particular civilization (i.e., Christendom). Rather, discipleship consists in Christ-like-ness, a quality of life transformed by the Spirit that invites the person to give witness to Christ, among other things, by practicing a Christ-like attitude when dealing with challenges and conflicts in public life (see Bargár, 2021: 46; Vos, 2023: 10). Second, incarnational/radical discipleship challenges particular understandings of salvation, including especially those that regard salvation as nothing but individual experience, a personal gift to be fully enjoyed after one's physical death. As Deenabandhu Manchala formulates it, preaching salvation as marvelous life after death to those who are daily sold, enslaved, tortured, raped, deprived of food, and killed is nothing but abomination done in the name of God (2017: 209–210). Similarly, it is a betrayal of the gospel if one awaits one's own salvation facing the hereafter, while neglecting matters related to common concern and the common good. Salvation through the lens of incarnational/radical discipleship, in contrast, is a journey Christians are invited to walk together with others toward life for the whole humankind and creation – life characterized by the new values of God's reign (see Bargár, 2021: 46).

And third, incarnational/radical discipleship enables us to view the church not so much in terms of a fellowship of believers but rather as a fellowship of those who share and participate in God's dream and vision for the common good of the whole humankind and creation (see Manchala, 2017: 211). Rather than through official institutions, structures, and arrangements, the church as a community of people called forth to a certain purpose (ekklesia) becomes embodied and actualized in particular contexts where God is at work for the sake of justice, peace, and life for all, breaking the barriers that populism, nationalism, polarization, and the likes strive to erect. In this way, Christ's followers become a community – admittedly together with others – embodying the promises of the coming reign of God.

The last claim brings us close to one particular term that has been coined in theology in this regard, namely, conviviality. The term was popularized by Ivan Illich who used it to think through the practical implications of relationships between people, people and their context, and people and technology, giving much prominence both to personal freedom and mutuality (2009). ⁵ In a similar vein, Richard Bauckham regards human freedom as relational; it is pursued and fulfilled in being ‘freedom for.’ In practice, human freedom fulfills itself in serving for the common good (see Bauckham, 2015: 77).

On a more elementary, but perhaps more essential, level, conviviality refers to a sociable pleasure of people coming together to enjoy conversation, fellowship, and meal. In some settings, this might entail crossing racial, social, and cultural boundaries in a manner that perhaps does not go very deep but might pioneer new ways in which common humanity is shared (see Addy and Siirto, 2021: 401). At a more intentional and public level, then, convivial thinking goes beyond seeking mere tolerance toward resolving intolerance through dialogue, recovering mutual trust, and working for reconciliation in communities and societies (see Bowers Du Toit, 2023: 32; Addy, 2019). Moreover, Nadine Bowers Du Toit points out yet another important aspect of the term when she says that, unlike the admittedly centripetal notion of koinonia which first and foremost refers to the communion with the body of believers, conviviality ‘asks for more porous boundaries that extend to common action with others in society in order to work for the common good’ (2023: 33). As such, convivial thinking views everyone as an equal partner and (at least potentially) active driver of change. As a consequence, it moves away from the framework of ‘working/speaking for others’ toward a more dynamic ‘working/living with others.’ Conviviality, therefore, offers an innovative vision for society and the practice of common life as well as provides a ‘prophetic critique’ of political structures that hinder life together (see Bowers Du Toit, 2023: 36).

Dreams and Visions: Empowered by Hope

In the previous section, I laid out several approaches that Christian theology can contribute with to the public discussion on challenging and overcoming threats to democracy. Now, there is a danger that the outlined approaches will remain little more than a Christianized version of short-breathed civic activism. To counter this risk, I will therefore conclude this paper by suggesting hope to be the driver and sustainer of Christian attempts for working on the cultivation of public life. Though it has recently received much scholarly, including theological, attention, hope remains to be in short supply in an age which ‘confronts us with the loss of a future’ (Eagleton, 2015: xi).

Importantly for our topic, Hasselaar, Pattberg, and Smit employ the biblical notion of hope to the issue of decision making in situations of conflicting positions and uncertainty (2023: 163). They draw upon the work of Jonathan Sacks who, utilizing various resources from the Jewish tradition, conceptualizes hope as ‘narrative of individual and societal transformation’ (Hasselaar et al., 2023: 163; see also Sacks, 1997). In the process of such transformation, all those who are involved learn to disclose their identities, engage various symbols and images that people live by, and include the interests of oneself and others into a common identity. Hope can, therefore, be formulated in terms of a learning process that seeks to ‘create relations of trust that teach one how to honor both the interest of oneself and others’ (Hasselaar et al., 2023: 163). This process is, according to Sacks, supported by two biblical institutions, namely, covenant and Shabbat. As such, we can view hope as being at the core of God's dream and vision for the world: creation at deep and just peace drinking from the fountain of life and taking part in the cosmic ecstasy.

Developing an alternative, yet complementary, line of theological argumentation, Ivana Noble makes an intriguing connection between hope and memory:

From the perspective of Christian faith, all that happened, had to be included into the deep structures of truth, because it is all part of God's memory; not beforehand, not in any form of determinism, but retrospectively. As Metz would say, like the dangerous memory of the Crucified, it hides not only the potential for destruction, but also a potential for redemption that cannot be found anywhere else but in what has happened (2019: 168). ⁶

This theological assurance gives us the strength to fully accept responsibility for our past actions, knowing that we were not merely driven by social and historical forces but also moved by the Spirit of the God who ‘helps us in our weaknesses’ (Rom 8:26). What churches can offer in polarized and antagonistic public contexts is a witness that we as humankind belong together, despite our differences, and a commitment to be accountable for our words and deeds in the hope for God's mercy (see Noble, 2019: 167).

M. Shawn Copeland contributes with a yet another theological perspective when she weaves together the threads of hope and the ‘dangerous memory’ of Christ's crucifixion with black experience to search for venues for transformation in the world dominated by violence. In particular, she does so by employing the notion of eucharistic solidarity, rather than vague liberal empathy. She asserts: ‘In spatial inclusion, authentic recognition, and humble embrace of different bodies, Eucharistic celebration forms our social imagination, transvalues our values, and transforms the meaning of our being human, of embodying Christ’ (Copeland, 2010: 127). Moreover, this solidarity is both very intimate and physical as well as political as it is through views, memories, stories, and aspirations that the Lord of the Eucharist transforms us, both as individuals and communities, into something new. It is a true at-one-ment. Copeland phrases it with a subtle beauty: ‘His Eucharistic banquet re-orders us, re-members us, restores us, and makes us one’ (2010: 128).

Hope is not naïve optimism. Rather, it is an active, though contemplative anticipation, pursued frequently in spite of what we see around us. In hope, one relies on God's involvement accompanied by walking in the trajectories of the past, present, and future witnesses of God's story, be they Christian or not. It is a commitment to work toward the common good interpreted through the lens of God's reign of justice, peace, and life for all. This sharing in God's dream and vision is the contribution that Christian churches can make to the flourishing of public life.