John Witherspoon, Pastor in Politics

Senator Mark Hatfield of Oregon said to the theological students at Princeton: “The prophetic voice which the church is called to speak in our age is more likely to be heard and followed by those in political power when it is spoken by those who, in committed pastoral relationships, have shown their genuine concern and love.” It is a false dichotomy that pits the prophetic role of concern for poverty, war, and social injustice against the pastoral function of concern for individual spiritual maturation. What is needed is a balance between the two.

Many ministers are struggling with this problem of how to keep the prophetic function and the pastoral function in creative tension. Like so many of our problems, this one is not new. At a time when historians are reexamining the American Revolution in anticipation of the two-hundredth anniversary of our national independence, we might be able to learn about a balanced ministry from a colonial pastor who resolved the conflict between the prophetic and pastoral roles.

John Witherspoon wore three hats: president of the College of New Jersey (later renamed Princeton University), Presbyterian clergyman, and member of the Continental Congress. After a distinguished career as a pastor in the Church of Scotland, he was called in 1768 to head the struggling College of New Jersey. At that point he could not have foreseen the extent to which he would become caught up in the fight for American independence, but he observed from the start that there was a contagious air of freedom in the New World environment.

In 1774 John Adams passed through Princeton on his way to the Continental Congress, which was meeting in Philadelphia, and he visited Witherspoon. Adams marveled at the college president’s grasp of political matters and recorded in his diary: “Dr. Witherspoon enters with great spirit into the American cause. He seems as hearty a friend as any of the natives, an animated Son of Liberty.”

The political life-style that Witherspoon eventually adopted has some noteworthy features. First of all, Witherspoon was determined to approach his political responsibilities with intellectual integrity. He was a scholar accustomed to debating both in church and in academic life the fine points of theology, philosophy, and history, and he thought it only natural to do considerable research before claiming to be a spokesman for American liberty. Also, he had always respected the British monarchy and valued highly the established institutions of society. He could not lightly toss aside this treasured heritage.

Tremendous pressure was exerted upon him to become more active in political affairs, but he would not be rushed. He insisted on gaining a thorough knowledge of the issues. During the critical months of May, June, and July, 1776, when tensions were mounting in the colonies, he wrote a series of scholarly essays in the Pennsylvania Magazine. Realizing that he would be criticized for his extensive literary venture at a time when others were calling for immediate action on the battlefront, he explained why there was need for scholars as well as soldiers. In his first article, published in the May issue, he contended: “I am much mistaken if the time is not just at hand, when there shall be greater need than ever in America, for the most accurate discussion of the principles of society, the rights of nations, and the policy of states; all which shall have a place in the subsequent numbers of this paper.”

Before engaging in political action, he carefully, almost tediously, formulated his intellectual convictions, even at the risk of seeming pedantic. The result was that when emotions were at fever pitch, his political position was marked by a keen perception of history, a reasoned defense of revolutionary principles, and an indefatigable moral earnestness derived from his staunch Calvinism and his Scottish common-sense academic heritage.

A second characteristic of Witherspoon’s approach to political matters was his own kind of pragmatic activism. Once he had done his homework, he was ready to take part in the leadership of the patriot cause and urged others to do the same. During the years immediately before the Revolutionary War, the Princeton commencement orations often had political themes, and the college became a virtual training base for future political leaders. A resident of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, who attended a commencement service in Princeton as early as 1772 was shocked at the ease with which young students were resolving the most complex problems, and he complained: “I could almost have persuaded myself that I was within a circle of vociferous politicians at Will’s coffeehouse, instead of being surrounded with the meek disciples of wisdom, in the calm shades of economic retirement.”

In June of 1776, Witherspoon responded to a call to become directly engaged in politics: he was appointed a member of the New Jersey delegation to the Continental Congress. Arriving in Philadelphia, late in June, Witherspoon participated in the closing debate on the proposed Declaration of Independence. He listened intently to the arguments and suggested a few revisions. He called for deletion of the phrase “Scotch and foreign mercenaries,” which he felt cast aspersions on the overwhelming majority of patriotic Scots in America. The phrase was omitted in Thomas Jefferson’s final draft, which had been revised by the Congress. Witherspoon, the only clergyman to sign the Declaration of Independence, wholeheartedly endorsed it and staked his reputation and life upon the validity of these principles of political liberty.

From June, 1776, to November, 1782, Witherspoon served regularly in the Congress except during 1780, when he asked for a leave of absence to tend to pressing duties at the college. During his long period of service he was active in debate and in policy-making and sat on several key committees, including the Finance Committee, the Foreign Affairs Committee, and the Board of War. His somewhat sheltered background as a clergyman and college president did not deter him from working alongside businessmen, plantation owners, and lawyers to resolve the knotty problems—economic, social and political—that came before the Congress.

A third characteristic of Witherspoon’s political participation was an unmistakable confidence in the future. Although at the outset of the war there was an exhilarating spirit of optimism, the morale of the people sank perilously low as the war dragged on. General Washington was forced to retreat from place to place in order to conserve his limited resources in men and equipment. The economic situation gradually deteriorated. Victory was never a certainty. The solid contribution of such men as Thomas Paine, William Livingstone, and John Witherspoon in counteracting the colonists’ sagging morale has not always been fully appreciated; through their prolific writings they were able to inject a note of confidence and optimism that ultimately was to pay rich rewards.

As a congressman Witherspoon was in the midst of the decision-making process. His specific assignments, for example as a member of the Board of War, gave him opportunities to observe the military condition in the field. These activities also provided him with a basis for neutralizing the effect of Tory propaganda and instilling in the colonists a reason for believing that their cause would prevail. As a clergyman he spoke the religious language of a sizable portion of the population, many of whom were Calvinist in persuasion whether they were Dutch Reformed, German Reformed, Baptist, Congregationalist, or Presbyterian. Witherspoon was especially effective in marshalling the considerable strength of the Scots in America and was determined that if he had anything to do with it, all Scots would support the patriotic side.

Furthermore, he could see beyond the immediate prosecution of the war, important as that was, to the equally crucial task of providing an adequate foundation for building a strong nation. While the war was still in progress he called for a sound economy based on hard money, a centralized government with the power of taxation, and a forward-looking foreign policy. He showed enormous confidence in the potential of America, citing her rich physical resources, her expanding population, and above all her spirit of individual freedom.

A fourth characteristic of Witherspoon’s political life was his profound sense of his calling as a Christian minister. Few of his political colleagues could ignore the fact that he was a minister of the Gospel. Witherspoon usually wore his tabs and Geneva gown at the meetings of the Congress, but the real impact of his moral presence was associated not with his clerical attire but with his reputation as a leading religious spokesman in the colonies.

Since he was able to communicate his thoughts in clear and cogent language, Witherspoon was asked several times to draft proclamations for special fast days and thanksgiving days authorized by the Congress. In these official documents his usual theme was the certainty of God’s providence guiding the American cause. He was firmly convinced of this, and he sought to transmit this conviction to those who assembled for the official days of national prayer. From our perspective of almost two centuries later and in the light of several more catastrophic wars, we would want to add some reservations to Witherspoon’s clear-cut and detailed interpretation of the workings of providence in the midst of the American Revolution, but we must not underestimate the positive effect his moral leadership had upon the religious rank and file in the colonies. Though they might experience reverses and defeats, Witherspoon assured them that any setback was temporary. Ultimately God would bring victory because their cause was just.

No matter how frenetic the pace of political affairs became, he refused to forget his calling as a minister. When the war was over and he was convinced that his political service was completed, he returned to his prime responsibilities as college president, pastor at the Princeton chapel, and a leader in organizing a national denominational structure for Presbyterians.

These four characteristics of Witherspoon’s political life are strikingly pertinent to the minister who today is to steer his way between the Scylla of inane quietism and the Charybdis of irresponsible radicalism.

Intellectual integrity is still absolutely essential for the minister who wishes to influence the body politic. Too many men and women enter the world of politics without doing their homework. Idealistic phrases and simplistic proposals are poor substitutes for tough intellectual analysis of problems.

Pragmatic activism is needed today more than ever before in the work of the ministry. After one has assiduously studied the issues at hand, the time comes for some form of specific political action. One minister may act as a catalyst to induce the laity to become more politically involved. A second minister may prefer to organize pilot projects that will encourage business and government with their greater resources to follow his lead. A third may choose to run for an office, as, for instance, on a school board.

Confidence in the future is a valuable quality for any minister to have, but especially for the one who is in politics. Our nation has already suffered enough from the divisive tactics of “unloving critics and uncritical lovers.” It needs a kind of “theology and hope” that will build on the best in our heritage and at the same time be open toward renewal of all the institutions of society.

And finally, the clear sense of vocation as a minister is always needed. Donald G. Miller, in stressing the point that theological education should remain true to its historic task of shedding theological light on society, recalls Henry Van Dyke’s story entitled “The Keeper of the Light.” When the lighthouse keeper died, his young daughter assumed the responsibility. One day a crisis developed: the supply boat scheduled to bring food to the isolated village was delayed. In desperation the people tried to get the oil in the lighthouse to use for food. The girl courageously locked herself in the lighthouse and with her father’s gun defended the precious oil. Eventually the food and supplies arrived. If the girl had not preserved the oil to keep the light burning, the boat could not have found its way to the village, and all would have died.

It is not enough for the minister to be busily engaged in humanitarian projects in the world; he must also use the light of his theological resources to interpret the contemporary scene. How tragic if the minister ignores or dissipates the really distinctive contribution he has to offer to the problem-stricken world.

As Witherspoon did, the Christian minister should weave his prophetic and pastoral roles together into one ministry of reconciliation.

Richard A. Hasler is pastor of the United Presbyterian Church in Hornell, New York. He has the B.D. from Princeton Seminary, M.A. from the University of Pennsylvania, and Ph.D. from Hartford Seminary Foundation.

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