As a statement on the protection of basic individual liberty, I find the words of John Stuart Mill hard to resist. “The only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his (or her) will, is to prevent harm to others.” Mill’s harm principle is a classic statement of ‘negative’ freedom, or freedom ‘from’ the interference of others. And it’s brilliantly simple: unless someone is causing harm to others, don’t restrict his or her civil liberties.

One of Mill’s key concerns was how to protect minorities and, thus, how to prevent ‘tyranny of the majority’. At any given time in history, there are minorities and there are majorities. The salient issues may change, but just as human beings didn’t agree on everything when Mill was writing in 1859, we still don’t in 2015. As long as diversity exists within a society, we need to find a way of accommodating that diversity.

In Ireland this week, north and south, we’ve seen plenty of evidence of diversity. We’ve seen strong differences of opinion. Ironically, supporters of Ashers in Northern Ireland and supporters of the Yes Campaign in Ireland’s historic same-sex marriage referendum, are more united than they think: they have both been appealing to basic civil liberties. In both cases, it strikes me that Mill’s harm principle is as relevant as ever in trying to protect these civil liberties.

As a Christian, however, to focus purely on this negative form of freedom (freedom ‘from’ state interference) would surely be to miss a huge part of my faith. Christianity is about positive freedom, something more demanding and fulfilling than simply possessing civil liberty. Indeed, as Christians in Syria, Iraq and beyond remarkably demonstrate, it is possible to possess this positive freedom even without civil liberty.

So, for Christians, what exactly is the source of this kind of freedom? In short, it’s Jesus (see Galatians 5). Allow me to elaborate on how I perceive this significance.

Jesus challenged conventional wisdom. He challenged the religious leaders of the day. He did so not because God was not worth following or obeying; quite the opposite. He did so because some people had put so much weight on obeying the law (in the Old Testament) that they had lost sight of God. As Paul later wrote, “For the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.” Here, in 2 Corinthians 3: 6, the ‘letter’ refers to a blind obedience to Jewish law, and the ‘Spirit’ refers to that of the ‘living God’.

Now, the religious leaders who opposed Jesus tried to trick him into dismissing some part, or all, of what came before him – the laws of what we now call the Old Testament. To their surprise, Jesus didn’t dismiss what came before him, but rather channels it beautifully. “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets” (Matthew 22: 36-40).

They’re both about love. More than that, there are six words in what Jesus says here that are, for me, revolutionary: ‘And a second is like it’. As a Christian, I know that it is fundamental that I love God. I know, too, that I should love my neighbour. But I think we need to pay more attention to these six words that come between the two instructions because they highlight the essential similarity between loving God and loving one’s neighbour. We can’t do one and not do the other.

In many ways, showing our love for God seems much easier than loving our neighbours. Jesus referred to loving God with all our heart, soul and mind. This feels pretty internal. Indeed, as a believer in God, I believe that God knows everything – including the contents of my heart, soul and mind. When I express my love for God through prayer, I am telling God something He already knows.

My neighbour doesn’t know everything, and my neighbour doesn’t automatically know my love for him or her. Showing this love, therefore, is external. It requires visibility.

It’s been the challenge for humanity since the dawn of time, just as it seems to be the key challenge for being a Christian in the 21st century: how can we love our neighbours? What does neighbourly love actually look like? Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians, reflected, “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.” Love isn’t noisy.

Painting a picture of love that is inescapable from the life of Jesus, Paul went on: “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Corinthians 13: 1, 4-7). How wonderful it would be to hear political discourse grounded in this kind of love.

Liam Clarke, Political Editor of the Belfast Telegraph, wrote this week that quoting the Bible in the 21st century is no argument. Evidently, I politely disagree. I can certainly see where he is coming from, but the duty for me and other Christians is surely not just to quote the Bible but to do our very best to live it out. That’s far easier said than done. Indeed, recognizing that falling short is inevitable is precisely why a Christian recognizes the need for Jesus in the first place.

I am neither a preacher nor a theologian. As such, this article is intended neither to be preachy nor theological. As an ordinary Christian, it is my prayer that in a society filled with heated debate and intense division, the sound of noisy gongs and clanging cymbals can instead be drowned out by Christ-inspired love.

 

Also published on Medium.