‘Come now, and let us reason together’ – Isaiah 1:18
The recent election proves what we already knew: we live in a deeply divided country. This should trouble all of us, no matter what side of the political divide on which we find ourselves. A divided people cannot find ways to tackle their problems. When Lincoln quoted Jesus in the years before the Civil War, he was not misappropriating anything: a house divided against itself cannot stand (Mark 3:25).
Even more troubling to me, as a follower of Jesus, is the division within the Church. Jesus prayed that his followers be one, and not just for unity’s sake. He gave this reason: ‘may they experience such perfect unity that the world will know that you [the Father] sent me and that you love them as much as you love me’ (John 17:23). Our unity, Jesus said, points people to God and His love. By this measure, Christians in America aren’t doing very well right now, and so, in this post, I want to name and confront the proverbial elephant (or donkey?) in the room.
I suppose I should begin by identifying my own stance (regular readers can skip this paragraph). I’m neither a Democrat nor a Republican. As I wrote in my previous post, I follow the example of Treebeard from The Lord of the Rings when it comes to the empire’s politics. We should be altogether on the side of Jesus, not the empire. Thus, I am not altogether on the side of any political party, though at times I find that my way and the way of a particular political party may follow similar paths, thereby enabling us to work together on at least some things. Conversely, I find at times that the path of a particular political party is so contrary to my own that I cannot walk with them at all. So full disclosure: I currently find myself walking more closely with those who label themselves ‘blue’ than with those who label themselves ‘red.’ Indeed, as Treebeard might say, while I am not altogether on the side of the blues, I am altogether not on the side of the reds at the moment. I don’t say this to attack those of you who are on that side. I say it in the interests of full disclosure.
Overcoming the division in the Church (to say nothing of the country) is going to be tough. In recent years, as the divide has deepened, I’ve found myself struggling with two competing truths: first, that I am, as a follower of Jesus, called to seek unity; and second, that I am equally called to pursue truth and justice. Balancing these two imperatives has been tricky. Unity is important, but unity without truth and justice isn’t unity; it’s complicity. Martin Luther King, in his Letter from Birmingham jail, condemned the preference of the ‘white moderate’ for civility over justice. Choosing a phony unity at the expense of justice only exacerbates the suffering of the marginalized and vulnerable. That isn’t the sort of ‘perfect unity’ Jesus was talking about in his high priestly prayer. There is nothing admirable or God-honoring in that, nothing that makes the world look to the church and say, ‘boy, I sure see God’s love there!’ On the contrary, the world sees such nonsense for what it is: a cold ambivalence toward the suffering of others.
And so, I have spoken out, and as I have, in blog posts and books, I have found myself at odds with those who see things differently. I’m not entirely sure how to resolve this situation. I still have an obligation to speak truth and do justice, even if it upsets people. But at the same time, knowing how disunity in the Body of Christ breaks Jesus’ heart, I would like to find a way forward.
To do so, we will need to go on a journey. By ‘we’ I mean Christians like myself who have opposed the presidency of Donald Trump, and Christians not like myself who have, for reasons I still don’t understand, chosen to support him. It will be a painful and difficult journey, sort of like Frodo’s to Mordor, fraught with perils and potentialities for disaster. But if we are to discover together what it means to be followers of Jesus in this divided world, if we are to find together the positions and values that Jesus desires us to take into the political sphere (discoveries that will require us to do far more than just ‘agree to disagree’) we will need to take it.
The first step along this journey, I believe, is this: we need to listen to one another. You need to listen to me, and I need to listen to you.
Since I’m the one writing I guess I’ll start. I will share three reasons why I have opposed and continue to oppose Trumpism. I hope you read them with an open mind. I do not offer them to start a fight. I offer them in the hope of inspiring constructive conversations that may take us beyond our current state of division.
First, I oppose Trumpism because I oppose autocracy.
I know that some of you are fearful of the radical left, and believe that if a Democrat had won the election, even a relatively moderate one like Joe Biden, this would have been a step in the direction of a leftist autocracy. I respectfully disagree with your assessment there (I don’t think Biden poses such a danger), but I do share your desire to avoid autocratic rule, be it from the left or right. And that is my problem with Trumpism: I fear that it represents a clear and present danger of autocracy from the right. Donald Trump has shown a tendency toward autocratic rule from the beginnings of his candidacy. He promised the country he would show us the power inherent in the Presidency, and he did. During his administration, we have seen and continue to see a disrespect for democratic norms, the prodigious use of ‘alternative facts’ (aka lies and propaganda), attempts to suppress voting, spurious attacks against the legitimacy of the electoral process, the intimidation of a free press, the purging of government agencies, the overriding of Congress, the bullying of perceived enemies, the use of force against peaceful protestors, the weaponization of religion, threats to deploy the military against American citizens, the refusal to denounce a kidnapping plot against a sitting governor (which, it could be argued, he encouraged), and the coddling of authoritarian rulers. Over the past 100 years of American history, we have seen the rise of an ‘Imperial Presidency,’ as the Executive branch of government has grown in power at the expense of the Legislative and Judicial branches. This has been accelerating for the past twenty years under both Republican and Democratic administrations, but Trump put the pedal to the metal. I believe that if Trump had won this past election, he would have eroded our system of checks and balances even further and done profound damage to the American republic. At best, I believe America would have become an elective dictatorship wherein the President would call all the shots going forward. This, I believe, would have been tragic, as it would have created the possibility of autocratic rule from both the left and right for decades to come. Jesus said that while the leaders of the nations seek to lord authority over people, it should not be so for those who follow him (Mark 10:42-44). Simply put, as a Christian charged with ‘seeking the welfare of the city’ in which I live, I could not countenance the possibility of authoritarianism, especially one that enlists the support of Christ followers. And so, for this reason, I opposed and continue to oppose Trumpism.
Second, I oppose Trumpism because I reject the politics of fear, anger, and division.
From where I sit, Trump came to prominence by playing on people’s darkest fears, stoking the fires of hate and resentment, and portraying ‘the other side’ not as mere political opponents with whom to spar, but as dangerous enemies who need to be eradicated. It is not for nothing that Trump earned the moniker, ‘Divider in Chief.’
My reading of the Bible teaches me that fear, anger, and division are not merely poor motivators, they are evil ones. Fear causes us to cling to what we have and fight off any perceived threat, no matter how innocuous. It causes us to assume the worst about others, even to demonize them, which in turn leads to division, marginalization, and oppression. It has no place in the repertoire of Christ followers, who are to be motivated by the perfect love that casts out fear (see, 1 John 4:18). Anger, too, is a poor emotion upon which to build a political philosophy. Anger is addictive; it provides our brains with a bio-chemical boost that fuels more anger. Nursing grudges and harboring resentment can make us feel good in the short run, but longer term, it eats away our souls, causes us to view others as contemptible, even sub-human, and builds walls instead of bridges. Division is the result of both fear and anger, and as Jesus (and Lincoln) noted, a divided people will not last very long. There is a reason why tyrants employ the tactic, ‘divide and conquer;’ once we are divided, we can be picked off quite easily.
When I consider the fruits of the politics of fear, anger, and division, I feel confirmed in my opposition to it. After four years of Trumpism, both America and the Church are less kind, less unified, and less willing to work together to solve problems than ever before. We are literally afraid of each other. We are angry to the point of breaking off relationships. We are even, in some quarters, threatening violence against one another. For the first time in American history, we have a President unwilling to commit to a peaceful transfer of power, doing all he can to sabotage his successor, and fomenting dangerous and false conspiracy theories about a stolen election. I believe that if he could pull it off, he would happily destroy democracy to stay in office, and millions would cheer that as a victory. This is the fruit of Trumpism. He has narcissistically sown the wind, and the nation has reaped the whirlwind. It will take a long time to recover. Friends, this is what I feared when he first emerged on the political stage years ago, and this is another reason why I have twice opposed the election of Donald Trump.
Third, I oppose Trumpism because I oppose racism.
Trump is a racist. The evidence for this is overwhelming. He has said awful things. He has encouraged violence against people of color. He has called them thugs and worse. He has channeled the spirit of ardent segregationists of the 1950s and 60s. He has called white nationalists ‘good people’ and refused, repeatedly, to denounce white supremacy and Neo-Nazi groups (indeed, he has encouraged them). He has condemned in fiery terms those who lament the shootings of unarmed black men by police. He denies the existence of systemic racism and routinely stokes the fires of racial prejudice against black and brown people.
This, if nothing else were wrong with Trumpism, would be a deal breaker for me. And since I am trying to honest here, the fact that it is not for so many who support Trump, hurts me deeply (as does the name calling that often ensues when I admit that; racism is real, and being hurt by racism hardly makes a person a ‘snowflake’). After four years worth of evidence of Trump’s racism (and willingness to act on it), I find it hard to fathom that 73 million people either agree with him, or, at the very least say, ‘Yeah, I know he’s a racist. But so what? It’s not a deal breaker for me. Go Trump!’ Maybe that’s not what every Trump supporter is saying, but it sure seems that way. I have rarely, if ever, heard a Trump supporter, Christian or not, condemn Trump’s racist rhetoric and policies. Indeed, I have more often heard them defend him. Either way, by silence or affirmation, my fellow Christians who support Trump have told me they don’t care. They have, it appears, dismissed the experience of black and brown people, many of whom are their brothers and sisters in Christ who endure the bitter sting of racism every day. How can this be? This is not just a theoretical issue for me either. I have an African American son who will have to grow up in the America Trump and his followers are creating. Trumpism is a threat to every American who doesn’t have the ‘privilege’ of being white. It is a threat to my son’s very life, and to the lives of many other sons and daughters. This too, is a reason why I have strongly opposed, and will continue to strongly oppose Trumpism.
So there they are, three reasons why I have not supported and will not support Trumpism. Three reasons why I cannot understand why anyone does. There are other reasons too, but this is a start.
Now comes the really hard part: the invitation.
Christians like myself need to know where those on the other side of the divide are coming from. We need to have you talk to us about our concerns, and why they aren’t enough for you to sever your allegiance to Donald Trump. Equally important, we need to listen to your concerns, and why they lead you to continue to support him. And we need to have such conversations in a calm, rational, and deliberative way.
I don’t know if doing so will achieve anything. Perhaps not. Perhaps the Church in America has become so lost that there is no way for us to find our way back to Jesus together. Perhaps we have to accept that we have been torn asunder and go our separate ways, with some doubling down on Trumpism (or whatever name it will go by in the years ahead) and others standing against it. Perhaps the ‘perfect unity’ of which Christ spoke, a unity that encompasses both justice and truth, is, for Christians in America, merely a fool’s hope.
But perhaps, if we listen and talk together, we may find a way forward. We may find a way beyond the divisiveness of Trumpism, beyond collaboration with either Red or Blue versions of empire, and into the good and perfect way of Jesus.
Maybe, somehow, the Church can still find a way to be one, so that when others see us together, they will see the love of God.
Under Christ’s Mercy,
Brent