Praying for the Civil Authorities

One of the gifts of good liturgy is that we do not have to question it every time we approach it. Good liturgy is elegant, challenging, and familiar; it draws us out of ourselves without fear of harm. From time to time, however, it is good to ask why we do what we do in order that we might remember that there are reasons for what we do, that we are able to articulate those reasons, and so that the faithful might have greater confidence in the soundness of the liturgy and thus more willing to submit themselves to it.

Recently, a question arose in the parish about our practice of praying for the civil authorities by name rather than by the vaguer terms of “President” and “Governor” or “all Christian rulers and magistrates” that are reflected in the words of the 1928 Book of Common Prayer. I am of the conviction that any time we depart from the words of common prayer we should have a substantial reason, or several. I am also very much persuaded that our modification of this part of the liturgy at St. Matthew’s is scripturally, traditionally, and pastorally justified. As such, in this essay I would like to answer this question of praying for civil authorities by name and argue for the formational necessity of doing so as an American Christian.

The New Testament is very clear on the principle of praying for the civil authorities. In his second epistle to St. Timothy, St. Paul instructs the young bishop in the ordering of public worship: “I urge that requests, prayers, intercessions, and thanks be offered on behalf of all people, even for kings and all who are in authority, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life in all godliness and dignity. Such prayer for all is good and welcomed before God our Savior, since he wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth.” We might detect here how St. Paul anticipates potential skepticism. The ‘kings’ of his time were, of course, not Christians. The emperor at the time was Nero. Nevertheless, St. Paul orders for the Church’s prayers a place for civil authorities, acknowledging their place in God’s providential ordering of the world. As St. Peter instructed the Church of Rome: “honor all men, love the brotherhood, fear God, honor the king.” And as St. Paul would add: “the authorities that exist have been instituted by God. So the person who resists such authority resists the ordinance of God [...] It is God’s servant to administer punishment on the person who does wrong.” Keep in mind, of course, that St. Paul here includes the Roman legal apparatus that put our Lord to death. That they perpetrate injustices of the highest magnitude, that they are subjectively unworthy of honor, does not militate against their objective status as God’s servants to wield this authority. It may make them bad servants, but they are servants even so.

St. Paul is not idealistic about civil authorities, but neither is he willing to speak untruthfully about their role in the world on the basis of their misdeeds. In fact, the obvious faults of the civil authorities in his time required of Christians a costly discipleship of prayer even as they lived out one implication of the Lord’s command to love one’s enemies and to pray for those who persecuted them, as He commanded in the Sermon on the Mount. We should be clear that this does not imply obedience to orders that the authorities may issue in violation of divine commands. The Scriptures are clear that there are times when we must not do what the authorities attempt to require of us. But nowhere are we given license to refrain from prayer for them, and perhaps especially when we most disagree with them. This is, after all, what Jesus does for His crucifiers during His Crucifixion.

Traditionally, Anglicans have observed a consensus in their practice of praying for the chief civil magistrates by name. The prayers for the Daily Offices, Litany, and Holy Communion in the 1549, 1552, 1559, and 1662 Prayer Books all name the reigning monarch in their prayers. Keep in mind the profound mess of the political situation in England while these prayers were offered each day. At any given time, the factual legitimacy of the monarch, their faithfulness to the Apostolic faith, or their subjective worthiness to bear the crown were all up for intelligent debate. As preservers of the apostolic tradition of honoring and praying for the civil authority, Abp. Cranmer and the other prayer book framers retained this prayerful engagement with the political culture of their land, doing as the Church what perhaps only the Church can do: namely, to bear prophetic testimony to the truth behind political power and to respond faithfully to it even if the outward forms or specific players were found deeply to be wanting in quality.

As the Anglican Church infused the newly-founded United States after the Revolution, obviously the prayer for civil authorities abruptly changed from honoring the monarch to the officers of the newly-formed government. Yet it was still some time before prayers for the President came along (perhaps out of a wariness with over-empowering the executive) with collects for the legislative bodies being the first prayers for governing authorities. It is in the American Prayer Books of 1789, 1892, and 1928 that we see the introduction of that phrasing of “all Christian rulers and magistrates'' as a replacement for a named monarch in the prayers of the Church. Undoubtedly, the new language reflected two important cultural motifs. First, they presume a stable Christendom-model of society that is not native to the apostolic faith. As we saw above in the Scriptures, the admonitions to honor and pray for the king came about in a political culture hostile to Christ. The notion of “Christian rulers and magistrates,” while likely not meant to directly oppose the words of Ss. Peter and Paul, nevertheless created a puzzling space in which to differentiate between civil authorities in general and civil authorities who are purportedly Christian.

In a second cultural motif, the new language reflected the inevitable pluralism of the United States. Any given election brings with it a division of the country between those who voted for and those who voted against the new or incumbent president. The comparatively vague language of “all Christian rulers and magistrates” permits an abstracted space in which a Christian whose candidate was not elected could nevertheless pray for authorities in a spirit of generalized goodwill without having to be seen as endorsing a candidate of the opposing political party. In either motif, we can observe a liturgical change occasioned by an emergent political environment; we do not, however, observe a fundamental shift in the Scriptural or traditional act of praying for the authorities.

Further, the liturgical language adopted at the outset of the American Prayer Book became for almost two centuries a liturgical tradition, only altered in the Prayer Books of 1979 and 2019, after the division of the Continuing Anglicans from the Episcopal Church. As a parish in the Continuum, St. Matthew’s is not bound by the authority of those Prayer Books, but it is significant for us to note that in both books the language in the prayers for the people revert to the older tradition of naming the principal civil magistrate (in our case, the President and the Governor). Thus, traditionally, churches which observe the 1928 liturgies exist in a liturgically tensioned space. The strict observance of prayer book language obliges the use of generalities, but a commitment to tradition suggests the potential goodness of reverting to the older and more specific form. In that tensioned space we might also ask: which language more clearly reflects the will of our Lord, the tradition of the apostles, and a salutary pastoral example?

We are now in a post-Christian culture. The Christendom model no longer applies. While we can privately lament the loss of enshrined Christian values, such as they were, pastorally we cannot pretend to operate in a world that no longer exists. On its most superficial face, the phrase “all Christian rulers and magistrates” is already a problematic notion. As all rulers cannot be assumed to be Christians, we have to use a purposefully vague term disengaged from the cultural reality. Bp. Scarlett also suggested to me an equally unhelpful genitive use of “Christian rulers” to refer vaguely to all rulers of Christian people. More problematically, we can also else use “Christian rulers” with specificity while precariously and presumptively determining the Christianity of a given ruler and choose in our subjective intentions whether we are, in fact, praying for them. It is in light of these pastoral challenges that I believe prayers for the civil authorities by name to be the least precarious way forward. Liturgical language should only be general if it signifies a generality. The phrase “all Christian rulers and magistrates” no longer signifies a meaningful cultural reality, but rather a nostalgic vision of the past. It is not a realistic generalism for our culture or the foreseeable future. Further, beyond what we might call provisionally ‘good standing’ in the duties of church membership, to summarily assert the Christianity of another person strikes me as a vain kind of judgment as it is based on facts that are not sufficiently evident.

In addition to being the least precarious way, however, I believe that to pray for the President and Governor by name is the most pastorally mature way forward. Pastorally, I have observed that the tendency to assess the Christianity of a given politician has less to do with a genuine concern for their salvation and more to do with disdain for a political adversary, which doubles as a repugnant cultural other. For an American Christian, I would add that critical distance from the civic religion of the country is essential to avoid idolatrous attachment to it. I can think of no better way to preserve that distance than to pray for the actual politicians in power. If they are of our political persuasion and we are satisfied with their Christian bonafides, then we are praying for an ally and brother. If they are of our political persuasion but of a doubtful Christian status (whatever that means), then we are praying for the salvation who is an ally in the trenches. If they are a political adversary but a Christian then we are praying for their prudential reasoning. If they are a political adversary and an unbeliever then we are praying for both salvation and mercy for one who is bearing a terrible burden of authority without the comfort of the Holy Ghost. For every scenario, there is something for which we might pray, and as Christians (I assert) we must pray. Our prayers are never an endorsement of policy or personal character. Our prayers are not tokens of political punditry. Our prayers are the service to which our Lord calls us and for which He will hold us accountable. To refrain from prayer–especially for those we have reason to believe need it the most–is not the heart of Jesus Christ. If we struggle to pray, there is the Lord’s mercy that will call us into growth. If we are able to pray but do not, then it is for us a shame and maybe a serious sin.

Scripturally, traditionally, and pastorally, I believe the evidence favors the specifying of leaders in the prayers of a Church. In our time, in particular, when politics are too highly valued, it is the Church’s job to model political engagement without syncretism with the civic religion. Any modeling of such must begin with prayer, and especially in the common prayer that is the formational center of our identity as Anglicans. Thus, at St. Matthew’s, we have and will continue to pray by name for Republicans, Democrats, people of avowed and evident faith, people of halting and hidden faith, and people who are a scandal of overt and active hypocrisy in the faith. We do this because to engage in generalities has an adverse formative effect that allows us to exist in abstraction when our Lord calls us to pray for all people, friend and enemy alike. We do this because the Apostles commanded this in the churches. We do this because we are not at liberty to shirk a costly discipleship. Those before us prayed for the people who crucified them; we in America are under no burden but the discomfort and displeasure of praying for those we do not like and whose beliefs we find repugnant. We do this because it frees our souls from idolizing our politics and thus enables our freedom to exercise them; because it frees us from wrath and grows us in compassion for those who are most in need of Christ’s mercy.

May the Lord assist those who bear the terrible weight of government in this world (at the time of this writing: Joseph the President and Gavin the Governor), and may we receive grace to entrust ourselves to the Kingship of Christ, by whose holy Apostle we are taught to pray for all people. And on the Day of Judgment, may we not be found lacking in any duty of prayer, so that we may without the remorse over omission say ‘amen’ when He reveals before all the truth of every heart.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor’ and ‘hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemy and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be like your Father in heaven, since he causes the sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Even the tax collectors do the same, don’t they? And if you only greet your brothers, what more do you do? Even the Gentiles do the same, don’t they? So then, be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”