Tag Archive | politics

DNC 2024: Unforced Error, Unsettled Joy

Unforced Error, Unsettled Joy
David R. Weiss – August 28, 2024

I am genuinely heartened by Kamala Harris’ entry into the presidential race. Since late July (just five weeks ago!) she’s brought energy and confidence—even joy—into a Democratic campaign that was marked by varying but unmistakable degrees of obligation, resignation, and dread. (No latecomer to these sentiments, I was calling on Biden to step back last September.) That said, we do ourselves no favors by overlooking unforced errors by her campaign or unsettled joy in our gut.

And that’s tempting, because we can’t afford to go into November with anything less than a Democratic Party united behind and excited about a candidate who offers us the best firewall we have right now against the implementation of Project 2025 and an all-out authoritarian tip toward fascism. The danger posed to democracy and all manner of civil and human rights by a Trump-Vance administration is far greater than the mainstream media seem willing or even able to acknowledge. (Vance, by the way, is the real danger; the Trojan riding in Trump’s horse.) Thus, that the Harris-Walz ticket is actually exciting a range of previously nervous Democratic voters, as well as make a fresh appeal to Independent, undecided, and perhaps indifferent voters is a godsend. An injection of joy.

No wonder that some have christened this unexpected unabashed exuberant energy a politics of joy. The New York Times wants to caution that “Joy is Not a Strategy,” but the truth is that joy is inviting, contagious, inspiring. Joy can unleash the goodness and hope that sit deep within ourselves. And while joy may not be sufficient to map out policy (as of today, August 28, the Harris for President website remains entirely empty on policy), it might be sufficient to win this election—and to frame a powerful governing posture.

Indeed, the PBS series A Force More Powerful (2000) includes a compelling episode in which joy was strategically and creatively harnessed in the 1988 plebiscite (referendum) in Chile in which Pinochet was unexpectedly and resoundingly defeated. Joy can channel profound power. So, I am not about to take issue with a politics of joy. I am all in favor of that. Frankly, we need a politics which summons forth our best angels rather one that plays on our most base fears.

It’s the awkward silence, both by Harris and the Democratic National Convention as whole, with respect to the unimaginable suffering and moral catastrophe in Gaza——that unsettles my joy.

It was an unforced error. Harris had the opportunity to invite a Palestinian-American voice to address her party and the American people with a call for compassion and unity. Multiple speakers were proposed to her campaign. They even had the opportunity to vet the remarks. And speakers representing every imaginable thread in the fabric of her coalition did speak. Harris had a golden opportunity to demonstrate just how big the Democratic tent is—and how committed to justice. She chose not to.

True, the Jewish parents of an American hostage held by Hamas included a call to end the suffering in Gaza in their remarks. True, too, Harris herself acknowledged the suffering, and even affirmed the Palestinian cause of self-determination (although such words are cheap, given the sheer horror wrought by US-made and supplied weapons). MOREOVER—despite running a campaign made possible across decades of fidelity to the simple enduring truth that representation matters, the Harris campaign decided representation doesn’t matter when it comes to the Palestinian people. And that ought to unsettle all our joy.

Her remarks at the DNC called out in concrete language the very real atrocities carried out by Hamas on October 7— and then reduced Israel’s genocidal assault on the whole of Gaza (civilians and civic infrastructure alongside Hamas militants) to much more abstract “devastation” and “suffering,” neither of which acknowledge Israel and the Israel Defense Forces as the agent of these equally real atrocities. And with the International Criminal Court, the International Court of Justice, and the United Nations all concerned/convinced that Israel is engaged in war crimes in its pursuit of vengeance (against Hamas’ own litany of war crimes on October 7), her claim that she and Joe Biden are working “around the clock” to achieve a ceasefire is worse than empty rhetoric. Every new weapons shipment to Israel turns their words to Orwellian doublespeak, stoking the very “fire” they claim to be working to “cease.”

I understand, after months of growing desperation with an aging Joe Biden as our candidate, the hunger for joy, the desire to just celebrate for four days, was real. But simply turning up the joy does not address the atrocity. Meanwhile Palestinian-Americans and Muslim-Americans carry the grief of Gaza in their bones and are desperately hungry to have their voices heard and their yearning for justice embraced.

One speaker proposed to the Harris campaign by the Uncommitted Movement (those who withheld their support for Biden over his policy on Gaza) was Ruwa Romman, a Palestinian-American who is a Democratic representative in the Georgia state house. Her intended remarks, celebrated the unity across the Democratic party, naming it “a beautiful, multifaith, multiracial, and multigenerational coalition.” She paid homage to Fannie Lou Hamer, the pioneering African-American woman from Mississippi, for daring to imagine an integrated Democratic party, now one of the pillars of the party’s big tent.

And she set her call for justice in Gaza right alongside key Democratic goals “restoring access to abortions, ensuring a living wage, demanding an end to reckless war and a ceasefire in Gaza … and to be a Democratic Party that prioritizes funding our schools and hospitals, not for endless wars. That fights for an America that belongs to all of us—Black, brown, and white, Jews and Palestinians, all of us.” You can read the remarks here and listen to Ruwa deliver them outside the DNC here.)

What Romman had hoped to offer at the DNC was, in fact, a call to rally around Kamala Harris that was profoundly resonant with what has been called black joy: the resolute conviction—the miraculous assertion—“that Black people’s humanity will not be defined by trauma or oppression but by something else: a joy that no white man can steal.” (Per Tracey Michae’l Lewis-Giggetts, author of Black Joy, quoted on CNN.) The same is true for Palestinians. Indeed, there is a long legacy of mutual solidarity across Black and Palestinian communities.

Tragically, Kamala Harris chose to silence the kindred expression of black joy that Ruwa Romman sought to voice. The miracle was that even in the midst of genocide, Romman had found a way to voice joy because she grounded her words so deeply in a yearning for justice. But the DNC—and the nation tuned in—never heard them.

I will vote for the Harris-Walz ticket—with real passion. In sharp contrast to the GOP ticket, I believe they represent a path forward that has room for all of us—including the room to press for a still bigger tent and a yet fuller pursuit of justice. Last week, however, the Democratic party and the Harris campaign committed a costly unforced error. Rather than take clear steps to ensure their tent covers everyone, they made a calculated choice to exclude one community. “Unforced error” hardly captures it. This was a deliberate choice to turn their back on the cry of those who are suffering. It was a choice to preserve a safe and shallow happiness at the DNC rather than take the inevitable risk of pursuing a deeper and more just joy. My vote will come with the commitment to press HARD for joy that mirrors justice.

For the sake of the Harris campaign, for the sake of this election, and for the sake of the Palestinian people, I hope Harris recognizes her error and reverses it. Until we invite every voice forward—especially those who bear witness to suffering—we have not yet commenced a genuine and just politics of joy.

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David Weiss is a theologian, writer, poet and hymnist, “writing into the whirlwind” of contemporary challenges, joys, and sorrows around climate crisis, sexuality, justice, peace, and family. Reach him at drw59mn@gmail.com. Read more at www.davidrweiss.com where he blogs under the theme, “Full Frontal Faith: Erring on the Edge of Honest.” Support him in Writing into the Whirlwind at www.patreon.com/fullfrontalfaith.

Wither the Dream?

Jan23

Wither the Dream?
David R. Weiss – January 20, 2024

There is no ‘h’ missing in that opening word. I am not asking for directions. Least of all to Iowa. No, consider this an imprecatory op-ed.

This piece has been percolating since the Iowa Republican caucuses last week, but it’s not about Iowa’s Republican voters. It’s about MAGA America’s moral vision. That vision will shape America’s vote next fall (as it shaped Iowa’s vote last week). And, unchecked, it will wither the dream.

Which dream? Not the “American dream” of material prosperity, personal liberty, and individual success. Rather, I mean the dream of the America-that-could-be, were we ever to pursue our highest ideals as fervently as we cling to our most dangerous national myths. The promise of inclusive justice, far-reaching and secure civil rights, vigorous voter protections, and a commitment to mutual care over corporate or individual profit. That dream. It’s never yet been realized; not even close.

Indeed, it’s fair to say the founders themselves never intended for it to be realized. They almost certainly and “innocently” imagined their ideals reaching expansively toward a widening horizon of people … just … like … them. (White, propertied, men.) That doesn’t demean the dream itself. All of our dreams are framed (and thus limited) by the contexts of our lives. If we’re fortunate, the ideals behind those dreams carry seeds that can take root in the tiniest of cracks and bear within them the power to split concrete.

The ideals that drive the dream of the America-that-could-be carries such seeds. We saw this in struggle to abolish slavery. In the suffrage movements for blacks and women. In the labor movement. In the civil rights movements for women, persons of color, and LGBTQ persons. Though far from complete, the seeds of that dream have done much good.

But today that dream, its ideals and the seeds they carry are in peril. There are those—and their number is not small—who would wither the dream. Increasingly the moral vision that is broadly embodied (and emboldened) by the MAGA-constrained GOP is a vision of an America hellbent on doing just that. It is a dehumanizing vision, one set against the grounding ideals not only of Christianity, but also of humanism, and the core values of all the world’s great religious traditions.

Read those last two sentences as many times as you need to for them to sink in: The MAGA-constrained GOP vision for America is hellbent on withering the dream of the America-that-could-be. It is a dehumanizing vision that runs directly counter to the grounding ideals of Christianity, humanism, and the core values of all the world’s great religious traditions. This moral vision, wrapped in an American flag and dipped in “Christian” rhetoric is actually a consummate rejection and betrayal of both America’s highest ideals and Christianity’s deepest moral vision. And now—right now, this very year—it hopes to wither the dream once and for all.

In practice, all politics comes down to how communities choose to hold and share power—for whose benefit and through what processes. The often unseen, sometimes intentionally hidden infrastructure of politics is the notion of “moral community.” That is: who counts—whose wellbeing matters—when decisions are made? The systemic shortcomings—today we rightfully recognize them as systemic injustices—in the founders’ social vision were largely the result of the limits to their moral community. Enslaved persons, indigenous persons, black persons, women, those who didn’t own property, the poor, and poor children—all found their moral membership, the fullness of their personhood, unrecognized and unprotected. The ideals of the nation didn’t encircle them because they were left outside—excluded from—the moral community.

Today’s MAGA-constrained Republican Party has fashioned a moral community intentionally hemmed to exclude or diminish the humanity of a multitude of others through the not so subtle culture of xenophobia. Jesus would be appalled. So would Gandhi, the Dalai Lama, Desmond Tutu, Mother Teresa, Harriet Tubman, Buddha, Confucius, Black Elk, Rumi, and many others whose perceptive wisdom, kindness, and moral courage has marked them as enlightened.

Within the MAGA moral vision, othering runs rampant. It is a white supremacist, nationalist, patriarchal moral community to which certain women and persons of color are extended guest privileges … but only insofar as they fit within its unquestioned value structure. Nikki Haley is an example of a woman of color who moves precariously across this landscape. She must deny the systemic racism in American society to maintain her place in the GOP community (even though she experienced it herself). And even so, Trump openly questions the legitimacy (the purity!) of her status in “his” moral community and asserts that the MAGA base will never support her.

This othering includes the diminishment (or altogether erasure) of the humanity of immigrants, persons of color, incarcerated persons, LGBTQ persons, women, hourly workers, and the poor (as well as a functional contempt toward the natural world). What becomes clear is that the MAGA moral community is set up according to strict binaries; within these binaries there are rigid power relationships; and those persons who challenge these power relationships must have their personhood diminished or erased so as to preserve the purity and order of the moral community.

What becomes equally clear is that the MAGA phenomenon is less about “family” values than about power. It naturally allies itself with values (rooted in identities rather than principles) that are well-suited for conserving power—and those values are “family” values only in the sense that they allow for the narrowing down of “family” into a moral community of persons … “just like us” (or willing to act within our power structure according to our terms).

As the 2024 election cycle unfolds, it will be helpful (although unsettling) to consider the policy positions and the rhetoric of Trump and other MAGA/GOP candidates through the prism of moral community, binary values, and the dream of the America-that-could-be. I think it will be quickly and painfully clear that they represent lightly veiled attempts to define “America” as a moral community that sounds expansive but is bounded by values that leave a multitude of us and our friends outside. And when it comes to moral communities, being on the outside is being in the wilderness. Exposed. Vulnerable. Targeted. And very much beyond the reach of the dream.

In future essays this spring I will explore further some of the ways this othering plays out. Including how religion plays into it. And how the Democratic establishment (including Joe Biden) misses critical opportunities to reach those disaffected voters (disaffected fellow citizens!) drawn to the MAGA/GOP fold but not hardcore members of the MAGA base. In this failure, Democrats themselves raise the risk of a catastrophic MAGA victory this fall.

Finally, I hope to offer some thoughts to engage the shrinking but all the more critical “moveable middle” of the electorate. Come November, these persons, who are hardly our closest political allies, will cast the ballots that decide whether this is the year we wither the dream. It’s time we figure out how to invite these folks to join us in pursuing the America-that-could-be.

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January 9 – Conversations in the Commons

Jan3

COMING: Tuesday, January 9, 2024 @6:30-8pm
Conversations in the Commons with David Weiss

NOTE: This announces a local (St. Paul) in-person event, so it won’t be accessible to many of my readers. But I want you to know that it’s happening. As I’m able, I hope to offer similar opportunities in a Zoom format … if you’d be excited for a Zoom option in the future, please comment or message me.

I am pleased to announce my FIFTH “Conversations in the Commons” around my work “Writing into the Whirlwind” coming up on Tuesday, January 9, 6:30-8pm

HEATED: The Climate of Politics in a Collapsing World

In my recent blog post, “Slippery When Wet,” I reflect upon my unexpected tears in response to my Nicaraguan son-in-law’s U.S. citizenship ceremony. They were NOT tears of joy but rather profound anguish over the tenuous politics of his new country. Divisions in our nation run deep these days and the rhetoric (especially on the Right) is fringed with fear and barely hidden hate. We’re far from the only country rocked by a resurgent Right, but this is our country, and it’s impossible to not feel a personal sense of anguish and threat in such an uncertain moment. Still, understanding some of the tectonic plates that shake the ground beneath our feet might also ground us as we meet this moment as best we can. I believe the climate crisis and the prospect of societal collapse are clear (though largely unrecognized) drivers of the current political climate. In this month’s Second Tuesday conversation we’ll ask what it means for our politics to be so … HEATED.

Please read “Slippery When Wet” in advance of Tuesday’s conversation. And look for one more new blog (which will be titled, “HEATED”) that I hope to post in the next couple of days. Of course, you don’t need to read the essays in advance, but the conversation will be richer if you do! Bring your comments and questions; I’ll bring mine.

If you plan to come, please RSVP by email (drw59mn@gmail.com) or on the FB event. This isn’t “required,” but it helps me make sure the room is set up appropriately.

Key details:

Location: Zion Lutheran Church, 1697 LaFond Ave., St. Paul, MN 55104. No parking lot, but plenty of street parking right near the intersection. Unfortunately, Zion’s building is not (yet) accessible; an elevator is coming in the next year!
Entrance: You can now use the courtyard entrance at the right/east end of the building on Lafond. It’s the most direct way to the Conference Room. Or you can still use the door along Aldine Street near the alley (especially if you come early for the meal). Plenty of signs (maybe even a smiling person) will guide you to the Conference Room.
These evenings are no cost to you. I set out a donation basket if you feel moved to put a couple dollars to benefit some aspect of Zion’s ministry or a cause dear to me. But all that I truly ask is your presence and participation!
The second Tuesday of each month Zion hosts a gluten-free, nut-free, vegan community meal. You’re welcome to come early for this pay-as-you-can meal served in the church basement. But you do need to RSVP separately by 8am Monday for this. Find important details about the meal below.

I hope you can join me for “HEATED: The Climate of Politics in a Collapsing World” on January 9!

ABOUT these Conversations in the Commons: In a creative collaboration with Zion Lutheran Church and their commitment to serve as a “community commons” in their neighborhood, I host “Conversations in the Commons” around my “Writing into the Whirlwind” every Second Tuesday—from 6:30-8pm. These evenings are a chance for me to share some of my recent work (or some of my favorite writing) and then open things up for conversation. I’ll typically identify the blog post(s) we’ll be discussing at least a week in advance so you can read them ahead of time and come ready to engage! Each evening, I’ll offer a few opening reflections, and then invite you into conversation. My work has always been enriched by conversation, and that’s more important than ever today.

OUR next conversation is on Tuesday, February 13, 2023. Topic to be announced closer to that date. (I had announced one topic for January; then illness, holidays, and other events conspired to change those plans. From now on, because “the Whirlwind” can easily shift, I’ll be announcing next topics closer to the actual dates.)

The 2nd TUESDAY COMMUNITY MEAL AT ZION LUTHERAN CHURCH

These full meals (served all day, from 11am to 7pm) are prepared by chef Colin Anderson of Eureka Compass Vegan Foods as part of his passion for food solidarity. Each Community Dinner at Zion benefits their Food Justice programs and Thursday food shelf program. You can read more about them here: https://eurekacompassveganfood.com/community-dinner.

Here are the important details:

Make Colin’s life easier by pre-ordering your Community Dinner meals no later than 8am on Monday. That’s his shopping day. Here are the preordering instructions:

Email eurekacompassveganfood@gmail.com to let Colin know HOW MANY meals you need and WHEN you’re coming. (If you’re coming for my 6:30p “Conversations in the Commons,” you’ll want to arrive 5:45-6p and dine in. We WON’T be meeting in the dining area, so you’ll want to finish your meal there and then head to the Conference Room at 6:25p.)
NO PAYMENT IS NECESSARY, but cash contributions are accepted the day of the dinner. If you’d like to contribute with a credit card, indicate how much you wish to contribute when you email your pre-order. You’ll receive an invoice by email that you can pay electronically via a prompt on the invoice.
Show up on the day of the dinner at your designated time, and we’ll have your meals ready for you! If you have any questions, just send us an email! We’re happy to connect!

Each meal is gluten free, nut free, and vegan to make it accessible to as many in the community as possible. Other allergens such as corn and soy are rarely used. These meals are always offered “Pay what you want/can.” No one is turned away for lack of funds. Each Community Dinner has a philanthropic partner and half of all contributions at Tuesday dinners benefit Zion Lutheran’s Food Justice programs and Thursday food shelf program.

Slippery When Wet

Dec30

Slippery When Wet
David R. Weiss – December 30, 2023

The tears caught me off guard on Monday night (December 18). Margaret and I were in the middle of our weekly phone conversation with my dad when suddenly my voice broke. Next thing I knew, my words collapsed into a soggy mess as I tried to speak through the tears—and my surprise at the unexpected rush of emotion.

Earlier that day we’d driven about 20 miles up to the Heritage Center of Brooklyn Center in the northeast Metro for our son-in-law Will’s naturalization ceremony. Will is from Nicaragua. He met our daughter, Meredith, a decade ago when she spent two-plus years in Nicaragua working for a Minnesota-based nonprofit that supported grassroots projects there. Eventually they married and had a child. When Meredith’s work there ended in 2015, they came back to Minnesota together, and Will got a green card, allowing him to work in the states.

Will is a “love-immigrant” more than an economic one. Although he works hard, he did not come here seeking a better life for himself. He came to build a life together with Meredith and their (now) two children. He’s found English a challenging language to learn, so while his basic proficiency has steadily grown, until recently he hasn’t felt ready to attempt the U.S. citizenship exam. In fact, he spent months trying to build his confidence, weeks studying, and more than a handful of sleepless nights awaiting test day.

Test day came on November 29, and that morning Margaret and I drove over to the USCIS (U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services) office in downtown Minneapolis simply to be with Will and Meredith while he waited to be called back for the exam. But when we arrived—a few minutes before his scheduled appointment—he’d already been called back early and given the exam. In fact, as soon as we cleared security and approached them in the waiting area, the smile beneath Will’s glistening cheeks announced his success on the exam even before we were close enough to exchange warm hugs. Now, Will is stoic by almost every measure. I found myself deeply moved by his emotions.

Afterwards the four of us went across the street for coffee. I’m not sure which was greater, Will’s sheer relief or his unbound joy. Both were everywhere: in his nonstop smile, his multiple headshakes, his hugs, his repeated exclamations of “Wow,” and his tears. So, I knew his Naturalization Ceremony (when he’d formally be sworn in as a U.S. citizen) would be another momentous occasion—this one, thankfully, without any anxiety. And momentous it was. (Although my tears during the evening phone call to my dad came from a different place, as I’ll explain.)

That Monday morning, at the Heritage Center, while Will sat in the front section of a large ballroom, we joined Meredith and their two children, John (10) and Benjamin (7½), in an area reserved for family and friends of new citizens. The boys understood this was a huge occasion for their dad, but for them it mostly sparked mild curiosity and polite indifference. Kids.

For the rest of us—that is, Meredith, Margaret, me and the several hundred other family and friends of those seated up front—it was a civics lesson of the highest order. Before the formal ceremony began, we listened as the about-to-be-citizens received instructions on how to complete their applications for new Social Security cards after the ceremony, as well as encouragement to fill out their voter registration form right there at the Heritage Center, and where to get information about applying for a passport. Then, as a sort of warm-up to the ceremony, we watched a video montage of immigrant faces from across the years and around the globe and featuring the famous line from Emma Lazarus’ poem for the Statue of Liberty: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free …” From my great-great grandparents, immigrants from Germany in the 1800’s, right up to Will in 2023, the fabric of our country has been woven from the threads of immigrant lives.

On this particular day 400 immigrants from 72 different countries added their threads to our weaving. After standing and singing the national anthem—itself a very moving experience in this setting—the ceremony began. A representative from USCIS came forward and, after declaring that these persons had met the requirements for citizenship, he made a formal motion to receive them as citizens. Once the motion was accepted, a judge administered the citizenship oath. Really, this 140-word oath is an act of alchemy. These persons repeated the oath phrase by phrase in unison while standing, and with their hands held up in pledge: a chorus of 400 voices who began speaking as individuals from around the globe and became—with their final words—something more: citizens of the United States of America.

After the oath the judge offered some extended words of reflection on the challenge of America. Describing our country as a work in progress, he invited these new citizens to join the rest of us in pursuing together the aspiration of America. He admitted that citizenship comes easily (instantly) to many in America, while for others (and certainly for some of the 400 seated before him), it comes as the culmination of sometimes perilous journeys, confusing processes, and years of effort. But now, he explained, after the culmination, the real work begins.

He told them, with obvious passion in his voice, that today they have taken their place within those sacred “fifteen words” that form the Preamble to the Constitution: “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union …” And now, as part of “We the People,” it falls to them to help shape a society where the ballot is more trusted than the bullet; where laws govern, rather than where dictators rule; where taxes serve the greater good and promote the common welfare; where differing views can be heard with respect; and where the inclusion of others is known as the unfolding vocation—and the undoubted strength—of the nation.

Altogether stronger words than I expected to hear, I confess. Far from a mere formality, the ceremony and the judge’s commission, really evoked the America that could be. A nation worthy of our pledged allegiance not because it offers liberty and justice for all, but so that it might. Unfinished work.

Now, for my unexpected tears. As I recounted the morning’s ceremony to my dad, I found myself weeping less for the beauty of the moment—though it was undeniably beautiful—than for my grief at the political calamity playing out in our nation today. Or perhaps it was the stark counterpoint between the beauty of the ceremony and the judge’s message … and the horror of a former president whose venomous words not only undercut the ideals of our nation but take aim at the very practice of our democracy.

And yet he continues to be far and away the leading GOP candidate for the presidency. Do you listen to what the man says?! He regularly—habitually!—dehumanizes anyone he deems “other.” Immigrants are “poisoning our blood”; leftists (like me!) are “vermin”—and both phrases are drawn directly from Nazi Germany, where they were employed (successfully!) to normalize murderous violence against those deemed undesirable by Hitler and the Nazis. Within the Republican Party almost no one dares to challenge Trump’s hate-mongering, let alone name it as fascist. And yet it is.

In truth, there have always been multiple Americas: a country contested among its leaders and by its citizens from the start. One America has soaring rhetoric of equality and liberty and justice—though beneath these lofty phrases, the attitudes and structures of power worked almost effortlessly to reserve the ideals foremost for those who are wealthy or at least white. Such was the America of our founding fathers. Another America includes those persons restless to extend the ideals of the nation to all its citizens—indeed, to hold these values as due toward all persons regardless of their citizenship. This America recognizes that if equality, liberty, and justice are true civic goods, then denying them even to those who are “other,” lessens their goodness also for us. This is the aspirational America that has never yet been. But the pursuit of this America ennobles those of us who work for it, even as its reality is yet to come.

But there is another America, too. In this America, every ideal is compromised, discarded, or twisted to serve the raw appetite for power of an authoritarian nationalism. In this America civil rights (and human rights) are dispensable. Elections are managed, from limited voting rights to gerrymandered districts to blatantly partisan election oversight—to ensure that the power of a minority can rule (which is no longer governance). In this America, political dissent will be neutralized. In this America, Earth will be exploited as ruthlessly as is technologically possible, because anything less than unfettered growth is failure. This is Trump’s America. As it is the America of those who brought him into power, and those who have chosen to ride his demonic charisma for their own political advantage.

This is, largely, the America of the present Republican party, coalescing around the destructive energy unleashed by Trump. Differing only in the transparency of its rhetoric, this vision of America is driven by the raw grasp for brute power in a country where the writing on the wall is clear. The majority in this divided nation long for some version of that aspirational America praised by the judge in the citizenship ceremony. Indeed, the clear majority in this multi-hued nation, agree that America is best when it is diverse and tolerant, with expansive rights and a core commitment to justice. That’s the writing on the wall.

Which is why the GOP, with Trump’s venomous rhetoric leading the way, has only one path to gain and hold power: fan the public’s fear, dehumanize their opponents, reduce their rights to vote, break the very processes for governing, and create conditions that will allow a minority to rule with authoritarian power over a majority of their fellow citizens, whose humanity will be rendered second class … or worse. Let’s be very clear: that’s what it would mean to “Make America Great Again.” It would mean to make America the worst it has ever been. It would be to UNMAKE the promise of America and to forfeit the great experiment of democracy.

And this MAGA America, far from being some exaggerated nightmare, is a real political possibility. Not least because the Democratic Party has failed to lead with policies that deliver expansive justice or speak in plain language that addresses the real vulnerabilities of citizens. And not least because Joe Biden is unwilling to step aside and let someone with a clearer, more vibrant sense of that aspirational America carry his party’s standard into the next election. But mostly it is because Trump and the Republican Party are actively persuading one set of citizens to so distrust, fear, and loathe their fellow citizens that they would be willing to destroy democracy itself at the Party’s bidding.

This is what drove my tears. That on the very day we celebrated Will adding the thread of his life to our nation, so many in this nation are prepared to embrace (with passion!) a xenophobic nationalist authoritarian fascist future. Alas.

And I suppose this in particular drove my tears: that I know there are those among my own friends and family who will be poised to vote democracy away in 2024. Who will be ready to do whatever they feel is needed to thwart that aspirational America from ever becoming. Who will cheerfully (with happy rage) view people like Will as “poisoning our blood,” people like me as “vermin,” and so many others I love—from LGBTQ persons to BIPOC persons—as less than human. This is pain that is most personal: that among those I love, are those who would betray others I love for the fear and contempt sown by Trump and others on the right. Alas, alas.

My joy at Will’s citizenship is made bittersweet by all this. Democracy is slippery when wet. And from the tears running down my cheeks, it’s apparent that democracy is most slippery right now. Slipping away? Only time will tell. But that it is slippery is beyond debate. It glistens on my cheeks.

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When Even Strong Words Fall Short: A Moment for Commensurate Heroism

Jan19

When Even Strong Words Fall Short: A Moment for Commensurate Heroism
David R. Weiss, January 19, 2018

Perhaps no value holds a more central place in Christian life than compassionate hospitality. It lies at the heart of Jesus’ ministry, is unmistakably a force that leads to his crucifixion, and ever afterward has been among the signposts of both sainthood and mere Christian discipleship.

Under President Trump—and an emboldened GOP that aims to deftly leverage his overtly racist, homophobic, transphobic, islamaphobic, and xenophobic messaging to their own political advantage—no Christian truth is more under attack than the call to practice hospitality.

Currently, as Republicans threaten to shut down the government over Democrat insistence that any budget agreement includes recognition and resolution of plight of those immigrants currently suspended in DACA, the GOP gambles that Americans—the majority of whom still fain “Christianity” as a identifier—no longer really give a damn about its central call to hospitality. At some level they may be correct, although public polling sets support for a DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) solution at more than 80%.

But alongside . . . in the shadow of . . . this spotlighted budgetary blip is the ICE (Immigrations and Customs Enforcement) assault on immigrants who by many measures contribute to the strength of our nation. It is “open season” on immigrants, even those previously protected by their public profile.

As The Nation reports today:

This week, longtime New York immigrant-rights activist Jean Montrevil, who had lived in the US for 31 years and was arrested just a week prior, was deported to Haiti. On Thursday, Ravi Ragbir, a leader alongside Montrevil with New York City’s New Sanctuary Movement, was transferred back to the New York area from Miami after ICE took him into custody during a check-in on January 11.

Also on January 11, ICE pulled over and arrested Eliseo Jurado, the husband of Ingrid Encalada Latorre, a Peruvian woman who has taken sanctuary in a church in Boulder, Colorado. This string of recent arrests prompted another immigrant-rights leader to come forward. On Tuesday, the longtime Seattle-based immigrant-rights activist Maru Mora Villalpando went public with details of ICE’s enforcement against her. On December 20 she received in the mail what’s known as a notice to appear, [which] signals the beginning of DHS deportation proceedings. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard from immigration,” Mora Villalpando told The Nation. “My case makes it clear that this is a targeting of people who have decided to be outspoken,” said Mora Villalpando, who has never received a deportation order and says her criminal record is clean. “I only have traffic tickets in my life, and that’s that.”

ICE denies that these enforcement actions are politically motivated. “ICE focuses its enforcement resources on individuals who pose a threat to national security, public safety, and border security,” ICE spokesperson Lori Haley said. “However, as ICE leadership has made clear, ICE will no longer exempt classes or categories of removable aliens from potential enforcement.”

Meanwhile, locally, Saint Agnes bakery has abruptly turned off its ovens and closed its doors—apparently in response to a threatened ICE audit of its business and its employees. As many as a dozen longtime and skilled bakers—vibrant members of our community who for years have made the bread we bought in local stores or ate on the plates of local restaurants—quit on the spot for fear of deportation.

Such actions by ICE should be named theologically for what they are: Antichrist. These aggressive campaigns to deport and/or intimidate undocumented but also un-criminal members of our communities are expressions of political terrorism. They seek foremost to sow fear, both among immigrants (undocumented and otherwise) and among citizens. They feed xenophobia. They kill the spirit of hospitality that is the first behavioral mark of a follower of Jesus.

Thus, while I applaud the strong words of the Minnesota ELCA bishops in condemning Trump’s latest round of racist messaging—messaging that’s already actively echoing across our heartland—it isn’t enough.

If we hope to save the soul of Christianity—to preserve the dignity of humanity itself, and to make possible a future in which America’s ideals might one day be realized—two things are essential and urgent.

Our bishops—not just in Minnesota, not just Lutheran, but religious leaders of all faiths—must raise a united voice that echoes the words Archbishop Oscar Romero spoke in his sermon on March 23, 1980 (the day before he was assassinated). Addressing his nation’s soldiers, he announced: “In the name of God, in the name of these suffering people whose cries rise to heaven more loudly each day, I implore you, I beg you, I order you: Stop the repression!”

I call on our bishops—our religious leaders from coast to coast, border to border—to announce with one voice to ICE agents: “In the name of God, in the name of these suffering people whose cries rise to heaven more loudly each day, I implore you, I beg you, I order you: Stop the repression!”

And then I call on faith communities in every town, village, city, and glen to step forward in radical hospitality—what my former grad school mentor called “commensurate heroism”: that is, to say to every ICE agent who risks his or her livelihood by choosing hospitality over terror, who risks their job to defy unholy orders, “we have your back. If you shoulder the risks to which your faith calls you most directly, we will help you bear the costs incurred.”

I’m glad to see Democrats hold the line on a DACA resolution—even if it means that Trump and the GOP choose a government shutdown over a commonsense and humane resolution, because such a choice will help further unveil the dysfunction of the Grand Old Party and the moral emptiness of the President.

I’m glad to see the strong statement by the Minnesota ELCA bishops, too. Such words can inspire persons of faith to realize that moral decency and simple humanity are not mere whims to be entertained from an armchair. They are compass points that direct our actions—sometimes in direct defiance of authority, sometimes in direct support of our neighbor, always in the direction of hospitality.

And it’s time for our leaders to connect those dots publically and invite, implore, beg, even order the rest of us to connect the dots in our lives.