Editorial: How far does church-state separation go?

I believe in the separation of church and state, which I understand to mean neither the church nor the state should exert authority or control over the other.

Many would agree blatant attempts by the church or state to control the other are not good for the state, the church or society. Some see it differently, though, arguing blatant Christian influence over the state—maybe even control—is good for church, state and society.

But what amount of influence rises to the level of authority or control over? Does a politician addressing a church from the pulpit as a politician and during a Sunday morning worship service constitute an attempt to exert authority or control over the church?

Local churches and communities—Baptist and otherwise—do not answer this question the same way.

Bill Pinson and Doris Tinker state it well in their Baptist Distinctives: “To work out what the concept of separation means in an ever-changing world is an abiding challenge. … Baptists are not oblivious to the gray areas in the relationship and the various interpretations of what separation means.”

At least three factors in the United States suggest we need to work out the concept: (1) increasing diversity, (2) continuing influence of the church, and (3) the challenge to separation of church and state from Christians who oppose or deny the idea.

Here, I will only touch on church-state separation and diversity.

Harris at the pulpit

Going back to my question above: I am not a fan of politicians addressing the church—as politicians—from the pulpit on Sunday mornings. In fact, I’ve been downright critical of it, particularly so when Robert Jeffress gave Donald Trump the pulpit during a “special Christmas Sunday” in 2021.

But at least Trump wasn’t given the pulpit right in the middle of the service. Nor did he speak from a higher position than the pastor, as happened Oct. 13 at Koinonia Christian Center in Greenville, N.C., when Vice President Kamala Harris addressed the congregation there.

To be fair, Bishop Rosie O’neal—the senior pastor of Koinonia Christian Center who founded the church in 1989 and presides over 22 congregations in the United States and abroad—generally preaches from the floor in front of the platform. Furthermore, the U.S. Secret Service probably has more say over where the vice president will stand to speak than even a bishop does.

The following Sunday, Oct. 20, Harris addressed the congregation of New Birth Missionary Baptist Church in Stonecrest, Ga., again from the pulpit in the middle of the worship service.

Harris’ message in both places focused on community, seeing a neighbor in the face of a stranger and putting one’s faith into action. Her use of Scripture in both messages was no more out of context than can be heard by some seminary-trained pastors.

Crossing the line

Harris is strongly opposed by many Christians for her strong support of abortion and LGBTQ rights. For these Christians, it’s simply too much even to think of Harris speaking from the pulpit on a Sunday morning.

Some of these same Christians do not express the same outrage—or any outrage at all—when someone who supports greed, hatred, sexual misconduct, lying or other sins speaks from the pulpit. And I’m not necessarily referring to Harris’ political opponent.

The strong feelings for and against Harris may obscure a more subtle problem I see. In both of her messages, she used Scripture and faith language in service of a political agenda—her own presidential campaign. Her aim was more explicit in Georgia than in North Carolina.

In her opening, after thanking New Birth Pastor Jamal Bryant for traveling the country “to encourage people to register and to vote,” Harris praised the leaders who went before for teaching “that faith and good works go hand in hand, and that is especially true when it comes to protecting our sacred right to vote and getting souls to the polls.”

Surely by drumming up the vote from the pulpit in the middle of Sunday morning worship services, a sitting vice president running for president crosses the line of church-state separation. But not all see it that way because of the broader context, which is one area where we need to work out the concept.

Differing views

Some congregations and communities have a different relationship with political leaders—and leaders in general—than others do. Some congregations celebrate, honor and identify with leaders in a way others do not.

Does this mean the different congregations have differing definitions of church-state separation? Does one value the principle more than the other, or even believe in the principle at all?

Given the difference between how different churches interact with political leaders, is it possible to arrive at a definition of church-state separation that is at once meaningful and also encompasses the differences? We won’t know without a robust conversation.

I’m Baptist enough to chafe at politicians addressing the church from the pulpit on a Sunday morning in their political capacity. In my view, Harris did that two Sundays in a row. I’m also Baptist enough to accept and champion the autonomy of each local congregation to decide for itself who will be in its pulpit on Sunday mornings and for what purpose.

And I’m Baptist enough to exhort Baptists not to give up the principle we’ve championed for centuries—that neither the church nor the state is to exert authority or control over the other. As our diversity increases, Baptists need to bring our diversity to the table to work out a concept all of us can champion far into the future.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.