In this election season, we have to think about what qualities we want in our leaders. We'll be deciding soon who to vote for as our representatives in our governments, both large and small.
At church this week, I heard this perspective:
‘He that ruleth over men must be just,
ruling in the fear of God.
4 And he shall be as the light of the morning,
when the sun riseth,
even a morning without clouds;
as the tender grass springing out of the earth
by clear shining after rain.’
-2 Samuel 23:3b-4 (KJV)
It's a wonderful piece of music – fun to sing, beautiful word painting as the gradual crescendo mimics a sunrise, and glorious climax. And yet, the message is one that I can't help but take issue with.
We have a problem in our country. Even though our country has a Bill of Rights that guarantee the government will not attempt to endorse one particular religion over another religion – or, thanks to Supreme Court precedent, over no religion – one majority religion seems to want to erode that at every turn. One party, in a bid to capture that religion as a voting bloc, is increasingly making promises of a slide into full-blown theocracy.
And so while I wholeheartedly agree that we want our rulers to be "just," I don't think that particularly means "ruling in the fear of God." God has nothing to do with how a ruler approaches ruling a country. Those we elect into positions of leadership work with secular tools to achieve a secular outcome, a certain governor's novel approach to drought management notwithstanding.
I suspect this is an extension of the logical fallacy which says people without supernatural beliefs have no morals. Rather than accepting that some people do good for the joy of bettering the planet, millions of theists believe that the only reason someone would "decline from sin and incline to virtue" is the fear of a deity who will punish them "now and evermore" otherwise. For example,
“Now repentance consists properly of these two parts: One is contrition, that is, terrors smiting the conscience through the knowledge of sin; the other is faith, which is born of the Gospel, or of absolution, and believes that for Christ's sake, sins are forgiven, comforts the conscience, and delivers it from terrors. Then good works are bound to follow, which are the fruits of repentance.”
- Augsburg Confession, 13th Article; emphasis added
The reality is far simpler. Good people do good works, whether they are theists or not. Christians do amazing good works; one only has to see certain projects undertaken by St. Vincent du Paul or Heifer Foundation to see the impact that people of faith can make on the world. So do people of many other faiths. Modern Judaism believes in an obligation to tikkun olam, "repair of the world," without believing in any divine repayment for doing so.
Satanism is no different. Through various campaigns under the Satanic Good Works campaign, Satanists host blood drives, donate clothing and hygiene needs for the homeless, clean up roads and parks, and generally help make the world better. Acting with compassion and empathy means helping those in need.
Equally, those who claim to believe in divine justice in this life and the next seem oddly blasé about doing evil. One need look no further than the child sexual abuse scandals rocking the Catholic church, or pastors embezzling funds intended for the poor into their private jets instead. Evil done in the name of God is still evil; good done in the name of Satan is still good.
Individual or leader, what makes us shine as the light of the morning? Acting with compassion and empathy, as the Tenets suggest. Respecting and defending the freedoms of others, struggling to see justice done to both victim and victimizer.
And who is the Morning Star, the one who shows us how to shine with that light? Sure, in Revelation 22, it's scary-metal-Jesus; but in Isaiah 14, it's traditionally taken to refer to Satan. Why not both? Find inspiration where you find it, but don't rely on divine fear to make you do good. Demand better from yourself and from your leaders.
Hail Satan! Amen.