c. 1999 Religion News Service

(Dale Hanson Bourke is publisher of Religion News Service.)

UNDATED _ My short, unhappy political life lasted less than 48 hours, but the lessons have stuck with me for more than 25 years.

I was a college student; a sophomore English major who was happily writing for my college newspaper and enjoying a burgeoning social life when I received a mysterious call one evening.

The caller was a junior boy I barely knew. His question was intriguing: Would I be interested in running for student government vice president?

He had done the math and figured that I represented exactly the groups he needed. I could bring the votes of women, the sophomore class and the people who read my writing in the newspaper.

My response was more clueless than political. I promised to think about it and call him back.

I called my best friend and recounted the conversation.”What do you think?”I asked her.

Her voice had a dreamy quality when she replied,”Wow, I’d be the student government vice president’s roommate. Do you think we would get extra privileges?” I asked another friend.”Just imagine the power,”he responded.”And you’d probably get all As in your classes.” I tried another person who began to give me her agenda for change.”Just be sure you get new washers and dryers for the dorms. And don’t forget to extend the hours of the coffee shop in the student union.” By then I began to realize that a political position was unlike anything I had ever contemplated before. I started out wondering if I was qualified and could do anything to make a difference. Within an hour I was contemplating the power, the benefits, the popularity. I lay awake that night turning the idea over and over in my mind.

After two days of highs and lows I called the boy back.”No thanks,”I said.”I don’t think I could handle it.”I had seen how quickly my pure motives were corrupted.

When he began to question me, I blurted out what I had begun to realize:”I might like it too much.”The subtle shift had already taken its toll on friendships and my own self-image. If I ran and won, people might stop telling me the truth. They might see me as a way to further their own agendas. They might start to use me _ and I might use them. I might stop caring if I did.

As I watch the impeachment process, I am beginning to have flashbacks to that time. It’s not that my so-called political career had much in common with the life of senators or representatives. But politics is politics, be it in a small college or a large national arena. And there is something inherently dangerous about being a politician.

What scares me most about the proceedings is that most of the politicians seem so confident and sure they will know what is right.

Surely they realize by now that the people near them tell them what they want to hear. Certainly they know that their vote on this question will influence the votes by the people in their district the next time an election comes around. And they can’t be serious when they say that they can be completely bipartisan when it is time to vote.

Since I moved to Washington I have met many people involved in politics in one shape or form. Most love the thrill of it. Some openly enjoy the power. And some _ very few _ anguish over the responsibility.

It is not easy to avoid playing the game of politics and instead view it as a serious calling. It leads to upset stomachs and voting your conscience. It can mean not going along with the party line and not giving much respect to powerful lobbies that can ruin you. Of the people I have known who view their job this way, it means hours on their knees in prayer.

So when I see the politicians who appear on talk shows, I look for signs of anguish. Mostly I see confidence, smugness and even arrogance on both sides of the debate.

These are the career politicians, the folks who know how to play the game, leverage their moment in the spotlight, and get re-elected.

But I think there are a few who don’t appear on the talk shows because they can hardly put their anguish into words. They don’t get the publicity of their party because they might not vote with the majority. They don’t hold press conferences because they are too busy listening to do much pontificating.

These are the people who are truly called to be politicians. These are the ones who struggle with a job that is inherently dangerous and they know it. These are the ones who realize that they need divine wisdom to deal with even the most mundane decisions.

There are a few of them in the House and Senate. Too few.

DEA END BOURKE