Recently, I’ve been troubled by the 110th Congress. We elected them, and with one voice on Election Day we said, "Let's get out of Iraq." How is it, then, that President Bush recently signed a bill that came to his desk by way of a Democratic Congress, a bill that funds the war without measures to ensure accountability, without real benchmarks, without a timetable?

The body count rises in this ill conceived war that heaves along without a clear plan for success (or even a definition of what success looks like). In fact, we now know that if Bush has his way there will be another surge in troop levels.

At first, like John Edwards, I chalked it up to lack of leadership. Hillary and Barack voted the right way. But they didn't lead in a way that mobilizes others. I got the sneaking suspicion they were more worried about the homecoming they would face in their districts on Memorial Day weekend than actually changing course in Iraq. Like deer caught in headlights in the days leading up to the vote, they froze, unable to articulate a clear position on the bill. Then, at the last moment, they quietly voted against it.

Sometimes the privilege of leadership blinds politicians to the moral weight of their decisions. Consider King David of the Hebrew Scriptures, a shepherd boy turned powerful king by way of divine destiny. His story reminds us that power can corrupt even our most beloved leaders.

At the height of his rule, King David seduced Bathsheba, the wife of a soldier away at battle. David ordered the soldier into the front lines, where he knew death was certain. He then married Bathsheba, who became the mother of his child, the next king of Israel.

In response to David's misdeeds, God sent Nathan, a prophet in the king's court, to "speak truth to power." And so Nathan sat with David and told him a simple story. "There were two men in a certain city, one rich and the other poor. The rich man had very many flocks and herds; but the poor man had nothing but one little ewe lamb... it was like a daughter to him. Now there came a traveler to the rich man, and he was loath to take one of his own flock or herd to prepare for the wayfarer who had come to him, but he took the poor man's lamb, and prepared that for the guest."

Upon hearing Nathan's words, David's anger was "greatly kindled" against the man in the story. He demanded that the man make restitution for what he had done. Nathan responded, "You are that man!" He asserted that because David killed Bathsheba's husband, the sword would "never depart" from David's house. With bitter recognition, David repented. But it was too late. Blood had already been spilled.

The power of privilege blinded David to his own misdeeds and the cycle of violence he had initiated. Yet the prophet Nathan told a story designed to jolt David into a moment of outrage… outrage at injustice, outrage at privilege, outrage at mercilessness.

I envy the storytelling magic of Nathan (not to mention his access to those in power). I admire his ability to say it like it is even in the presence of privilege. And I can't help but wonder whether our telling of powerful stories might call elected officials to lead with dignity and integrity so that our troops can come home from the front lines of a merciless war.

But the problem we face in America today runs deeper than lack of leadership. I don't think I'm alone when I confess that I have some grave concerns about the health of our democracy. When Congress fails to listen to the majority of Americans on an issue as pressing as war, something is amiss.

I am not suggesting that there are easy answers when it comes to disentangling our troops from Iraq. The violence there has reached a boiling point, scarring the nation to such an extent that the cycle of violence will continue, whether we stay or whether we bring our troops home. This war has increased instability in a region already fraught with conflict. This is a hard truth for America to swallow as we continue to send our young men and women into war zones, as funding for the war continues to divert our collective resources from solving problems here at home.

There are no easy answers, but that's no excuse for abandoning our soldiers to the front lines of a flawed war. It's no excuse for sending a war spending bill to President Bush that fails to hold him accountable after he vetoed a bill that had the support of the majority of Americans. Perhaps Congress should have sent the bill right back to him as the only option for funding the war. (After all, why is a war well into its fifth year still paid for with emergency supplemental funding?)

The problems in Iraq are of a political nature, a social nature, an ideological nature. They will not be solved simply, they will not be solved at the point of a gun. You just can't bring peace by the sword.

As one who encourages people around the nation to get involved in the political process, to register to vote, to meet with elected officials, it's difficult for me to confess the truth: our democracy is in a state of systemic decay.

Al Gore asserts in his new book, The Assault on Reason, "Many Americans now feel that our government is unresponsive and that no one in power listens to or cares what they think. They feel disconnected from democracy…Unfortunately, they are not entirely wrong."

Yet he goes on to say, "the remedy for what ails our democracy is not simply better education… or civic education… but the reestablishment of a genuine democratic discourse in which individuals can participate in a meaningful way."

This is why WAND launched the Faith Seeking Peace program. In communities all across the nation we are committed to examining the stories of our faith, discerning the things that make for peace, and bringing meaningful dialogue about pressing issues to the people in the pews. It's just one way that we are involved in reviving what Al Gore calls "a genuine democratic discourse" in order to heal what ails our political system. I invite you to be a part of the conversation with us, with those who lead our nation, with your community of faith. I invite you, like the prophet Nathan, to speak truth to power. I invite you to heal with words, not war.

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