‘Don’t Bring the Church into Politics!’: Irony and Hypocrisy in Ecclesiastical Discourse

‘Don’t Bring the Church into Politics!’: Irony and Hypocrisy in Ecclesiastical Discourse

In Indonesia, calls for the Church to defend justice are often dismissed as 'political.' Yet silence in the face of oppression—from blasphemy laws to Papua and indigenous lands—is not neutrality; it is complicity and moral hypocrisy.

In Indonesia, when laypeople urge the Church to defend justice and human rights, they are often met with the admonition: “Don’t bring the Church into the political realm.” Yet silence is never neutrality; remaining silent in the face of suffering is the clearest form of hypocrisy.

Whenever the Church is called to speak out—whether to challenge laws that oppress minorities, such as blasphemy regulations, to defend Indigenous rights, or to stand with oppressed communities—there are always voices quick to accuse it of “politicizing” the faith. This accusation functions as a moral shield to silence prophetic voices, often coming from individuals whose own interests are far more political than the very actions they condemn.

When Silence Becomes a Bloody Choice

The irony is stark: those who shout the loudest, “The Church should not get involved in politics,” are often the same who remain silent when the faithful are persecuted; who say nothing when customary lands are seized by predatory corporations; who turn a blind eye as indigenous communities are terrorized for the sake of investment; or remain unmoved as Papuan communities are forcibly removed from their ancestral lands under the guise of “development.”

Even some Church leaders closed their eyes while their congregations were massacred on camera—a tragedy that evokes memories of Santa Cruz, Dili, 1991—yet now lecture the Church on public morality and ethics. Here, hypocrisy reveals itself in its starkest form: power cloaks itself in piety to silence the prophetic voice that threatens its comfort.

The Moral Politics of the Church: Prophetic Obligation Amid Injustice

A Church faithful to the heart of the Gospel can never stand apart from political reality. It may reject partisan politics, but it cannot reject moral politics. The Church enters politics whenever power strips people of dignity, when law serves the accumulation of wealth rather than justice, and when a nation’s identity is subverted in the name of “stability.” Silence in such moments is not neutrality; it is complicity. Taking sides is measured not by volume of speech, but by the courage to reject the comfort afforded by injustice.

Arguments claiming that Papua is “too complex” are rhetorical smokescreens to evade moral responsibility, ignoring the controversial circumstances of its annexation in the 1960s—when the so-called “Act of Free Choice” allowed only a small, hand-picked group to vote under heavy military pressure, leaving the vast majority of Papuans without a genuine say in their political future.

Complexity should demand ethical engagement, not paralysis. Those who insist, “let the authorities handle it,” are often those who have never experienced life under majority pressure, the constant shadow of armed forces, suspicion at every turn, and being treated as an inherent threat. From this perspective, “complexity” functions like perfume: masking the stench of indifference.

Indonesia: Christianity in a Muslim-Majority Country

Indonesia is the world’s largest Muslim-majority country, where nearly nine out of ten citizens identify as Muslim. Christians make up roughly ten percent of the population, divided between Protestants and Catholics, with other religious minorities present in smaller numbers. In this context, being a Christian is not simply a matter of personal faith—it is a position that carries social and political vulnerability. In regions outside the predominantly Christian areas of eastern Indonesia, Christians often face subtle marginalization: difficulties in building places of worship, restrictions on public religious expression, or social pressures that constrain their engagement in public life.

This minority status shapes the way the Church navigates its prophetic role. Calls for the Church to speak against injustice, to defend indigenous rights, or to condemn abuses in places like Papua are frequently dismissed as “political” by those in power, despite being rooted in moral obligation and the defense of human dignity. Historical experiences of violence and discrimination, from communal conflicts in Maluku to repressions in Papua, have instilled caution, but also underscore the imperative for the Church to stand with the oppressed. In such a context, silence is not neutrality; it is complicity, a failure to exercise the moral authority that comes with faith.

For Christians in Indonesia, the act of speaking for justice is therefore inseparable from the very identity of the Church. To defend the rights of the vulnerable, to confront structural violence, and to insist on the dignity of indigenous peoples is not a matter of politics in the narrow sense—it is the fulfillment of the Church’s prophetic and moral calling, even when it challenges the comfort of those in power and the complacency of the majority.

The Church and the Illusion of Peace Amid Structural Violence

A Church that claims to be a bearer of peace, yet refuses to speak against structural violence, produces a false peace—a peace built on corpses and stolen land. Calm, soothing sermons designed to placate congregations while reassuring the powerful are hollow liturgies, morally tainted by their silence. Peace is not enforced quiet; it is justice restored, dignity reclaimed, and violence halted.

Meanwhile, the Indonesian Catholic Church proudly proclaims its slogan, “100% Catholic, 100% Indonesia”—boasting equality with the Muslim majority population. Yet when confronted with the suffering of its own faithful, it falters: bold within comfortable circles, cowardly when justice calls. Brave inside but timid outside, it reveals the paradox of a minority caught between pride and impotence—a true “caged champion.”

When Faith is Tested: The Church Against Oppression

When the Church defends indigenous rights and affirms the moral legitimacy of self-determination—as guaranteed by human rights and international law—it is not engaging in partisan politics. It is defending the very core of its faith. A Church that refuses to speak out for fear of political accusation is ensnared in the most corrupt form of politics: politics of fear, compromise, and institutional interest.

A Church that stands with victims—acknowledging oppressed peoples, seized lands, and trampled identities—is faithful to the Gospel and to humans as imago Dei. Papua is the face of God in Indonesia; the Indonesian Church must not repeat the historical sins committed during the occupation of East Timor, where tens of thousands of civilians were killed, communities destroyed, and widespread atrocities carried out under military rule, all while many Indonesian Church leaders—especially Catholic prelates—remained silent despite urgent appeals from courageous figures like Bishop Carlos Belo. History is recording every step, and one day, judgment will come—whether Church leaders heed the cries of their people or close their ears.

To Speak or to Betray: The Prophetic Responsibility of the Church

While the Indonesian Church now organizes national Christmas collections for the people of Palestine, what of Papuan refugees, whose numbers exceed 100,000 according to Human Rights Monitor? Solidarity is extended for distant suffering, while the voices and pain of one’s own people are silenced.

History never praises a Church that remains silent. It remembers only those who dared speak when power rejected the truth. The warning, “Don’t bring the Church into politics,” is merely fear of light—fear of truth exposing what has long been hidden. The most dangerous Church is not one that speaks for justice, but one that remains silent, hiding hypocrisy beneath a cloak of piety.