Tag Archive | Trump

Toward a Unitarian Universalist Theology for Collapse

Toward a Unitarian Universalist Theology for Collapse
David R. Weiss – February 21, 2025

[Read this piece as a 6-page PDF here.]

I am no less overwhelmed than any of you by all the damage being done to our democracy and more these days—and the relative paucity of means at my disposal to effectively resist. I could spend all my time responding to one crisis after another—writing essays or creating social media posts to share insights, channel anger, or frantically weave solidarity. Some days that’s exactly what I seem to do. A worthy endeavor because this is an “active battlefield”: real human beings are being threatened and harmed each day.

But there is also a long game here.

The awkward, uncomfortable, damning truth is that the Donald Trump’s efforts to dismantle democracy and much of the infrastructure of our government—with cascading fractures across the rest of our society and spanning the globe—are going to be with us for a while. Not least because they are manifestations of the precarity of civilization itself.

True, Trump is seemingly determined (willfully? ignorantly? greedily?) to crash our particular society as hard as he can crash it. But the even more awkward, uncomfortable, damning truth is that this society was (is) going to crash no matter who was at the wheel. Collapse was (is!) going to be our inheritance, regardless of who is governing. And while the quality of our governance will likely make an extraordinary difference in the amount of collective suffering that occurs as we collapse, at this late stage, the rips in our social fabric will be ragged and violent no matter the political lean of our leader.

Which is why I’m choosing in this essay to ask briefly, and with only partial reference to the immediate evil of this administration, how a distinctly Unitarian Universalist (UU) theology as reflected in the shared values of Article II in the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA) bylaws might guide us in a long season of Collapse. (Full disclosure: I’m fairly new to the UU tradition. So, my thoughts are necessarily provisional—but hopefully equally provocative.)

Collapse refers to the now inevitable fracturing of the ecological stability necessary for our “advanced” complex civilization and the fraying of the social-economic-political-cultural structures that will accompany these ecological fractures. In conversations around Collapse, it’s common to make a distinction between “collapse aware” and “collapse acceptance.” The former names the awareness that Collapse is real, inevitable, and imminent, but this awareness stops shy of full acceptance. It may be caught by emotional denial or despair. The latter names the inner state of having come to a place of acceptance and peace regarding the inevitability and the all-encompassing character of Collapse, which may well include human extinction.

In this essay, I am interested in exploring what I would call “collapse engaged.” Perhaps it is simply a nuanced version of “collapse acceptance,” but it strikes me as a “religious” project of sorts to frame it like this: having become aware of Collapse, and having made peace in accepting Collapse, how do we then engage Collapse? How do we live ethically, meaningfully, and purposefully, in ways that actively serve the greater good even in the midst of collapse? That’s my question.

My response to it is primarily a contribution to an “inside conversation” within the UU tradition, although, on account of its core commitment to pluralism and a covenantal versus creedal unity, the values shared by UU folks are recognizable and accessible to anyone. For those reading from “outside,” when the Universalist and Unitarian traditions merged in 1961 to form the UUA (both traditions have roots going back nearly 200 years in America and still deeper in Europe), they chose to organize themselves around shared principles and values held in covenant rather than around beliefs or dogmas to which one would offer creedal assent. Vis-a-vis some other liberal-progressive traditions, the difference between covenantal and creedal can be subtle, but the contrast is stark when set against most conservative-fundamental traditions.

The UUA espouses no supernatural claims or doctrines. While individual members may hold personal beliefs about God (or gods, as do some UUs with affinities to pagan or other Earth-centered religions), others are stridently atheist/humanist. What binds us together as a “people of faith” is our commitment to live our lives with meaning and purpose by manifesting shared values. And our covenant to do so in mutually supportive community with one another: in local congregations and in wider associations.

Additionally, the UUA committed itself from its inception to regularly revisit its Article II principles and values, in order to revise them as necessary to reflect the way the tradition is unfolding, both with its members’ convictions and with the demands of the historical moment. The most recent revision, the result of a 4-year study and conversation process, was adopted in 2024. That’s the Article II I’ll be reflecting on.

These shared UU values are often portrayed via the “Shared Values Flower” image with Love as the central value, around which Interdependence, Pluralism, Justice, Transformation, Generosity, and Equity are arrayed like petals. Love, often described as “Liberating Love” holds central place, both in the image and as the animating energy that manifests itself through the other values. Part of the aesthetic logic of the image is that, aside from Love itself, the other values are not “ranked” in any way. They’re regarded as inseparable and interwoven.

So, (briefly) here are some thoughts “Toward a Unitarian Universalist Theology) for Collapse.”

First, why a theology? If UUs don’t share a common belief in God, why call this a “theology”? Because, even while UUs have no shared agreement about a supernatural being or beings, we do share a deep vision of living rooted in ultimate values. In theologies centered around a belief in God, this belief in God serves as their “ultimate concern” (a term coined by the Protestant/Lutheran theologian Paul Tillich); it acts as the orienting and integrating point of reference for their lives. Hence, “theology” because these thoughts are drawn from that ultimate concern.

In the UU tradition, we regard Love as an animating energy around which we seek to fashion our lives. The central unity of Love has been affirmed from our earliest predecessor traditions onward, and even as we have stepped back from belief in any deity, we have held onto Love as the Ultimate Concern that we seek to invite into our lives and bring it to bear on the world around us.

Also, despite having no doctrine regarding things supernatural, our worldview is alive with a sense of the sacred. This intuition, apprehended both by intellect and emotion, is of a Something Qualitatively More, a dimension to life that is larger than self or family, tribe or nation, even larger than humanity as a whole. It elicits reverence and awe, aspiration and action. It sparks the recognition of a “seamless garment” to reality that encompasses the churning of the stars and the stillness of the soul.

No less than any supernatural tradition we stretch language to the limit to name these things. We may find Love a less limiting notion than God, but I suspect we would admit that at last even the word Love is left breathless at the heart of our experience. It is perhaps the furthest we can reach in language and concept, such that we speak of Love and allow silence, wonder, and reverence to say the rest.

Second, what of Collapse? By this I mean the unraveling of both the natural world and the humanly made world in all of its social-economic-political-technological complexity in response to human stresses that have overwhelmed the abundance of the planet and will equally tear apart the fabric of the many institutions we have created. I have written about Collapse elsewhere at length, so I won’t repeat that here. I will simply note that—without question—Trump’s ascendency was fueled by the early ripples of Collapse. Though hardly inevitable, his election and the ideology that now actively dismantles our world has been nonetheless shaped by the forces of finitude pressing in on our awareness. Collapse can and will take many forms as it plays out across the globe. Trump’s authoritarian fascism represents one particularly toxic political expression of Collapse. And it’s playing out before us right now.

Third, merely a sketch? Each of the seven values in Article II is worth an essay or more in itself. But between a broken neck (my dad’s) and a cancerous prostate (mine) and a rapidly disintegrating national politics (ours), I am stretched in more ways than I can adequately juggle right now. I can sketch, but that’s my limit. I can return to these thoughts later.

So, we begin. (The italicized sentence used to introduce each value is drawn from “Our Shared Unitarian Universalist Values,” a 2024 pamphlet from the UUA.)

Interdependence: We honor the interdependent web of all existence and acknowledge our place in it. The words carry truth and intention in every moment, but in a time of Collapse they take on a certain stubborn urgency. As systems break down, the temptation is strong to look after ourselves and abandon those around us. (Or attack them.) In high stress scenarios interdependence seems wistful idealism, but this is precisely when its wisdom is most needed.

Whether in Trump’s “America,” or in some yet worse era of Collapse, this value reminds us that humility is the first rank of wisdom—and also a first grace. We do not reign, nor need we cower. Rather, we belong. Because suffering is so widespread in Collapse: among marginalized and targeted groups and across exploited species and landscapes, we honor the interdependence we know as truth by opening ourselves to deep grief. This isn’t to say we don’t also resist and protect, but Collapse is defined by its irrepressible force. There will be much—too much—suffering that we cannot stop. And in these cases we honor interdependence by grieving.

And, yes, we honor interdependence by resisting insofar as we can. This value affirms that solidarity and community—across differences, between people, with other living things, and even with landscapes and ecosystems—are always worthy goals because they echo the deep reality of our world. When we act in alignment with interdependence, we join our energy to the quiet flow of truth. This never guarantees success, but it promises integrity and potentially a harvest of righteous power.

Pluralism: We are all sacred beings, diverse in culture, experience, and theology. UUs came early to acknowledge there is much to learn from human wisdom outside our own tradition. And over the ensuing years we came (yes, with occasional fits and shouts) to recognize there was wisdom beyond our tradition that we needed—sometimes to complete our insight, sometimes to correct our mistakes, and sometimes to heal the wounds that have resulted from our entanglement with whiteness and dominion.

The work of pluralism in Collapse is to redouble our commitment to learn from others; the simple truth is that many of the communities that have been harmed by white supremacy, homophobia, extractive capitalism, and all the adjacent othering of empire are already well-acquainted with the dynamics of Collapse that are only now impinging on our lives. Members of marginalized communities will be some of our best mentors now—because they have lived chapters of this tale before.

This value also guards us from holding neighbors and friends in contempt if they have been lured into active collaboration or passive complicity with the brutal forces of Collapse. This is not to say that we should feel no sense of betrayal or anger. Nor that we refrain from voicing our feelings. From politicians to families and neighbors, those who promote or accede to the dehumanizing rhetoric and destructive policies being implemented by Trump and his administration are fundamentally responsible for their own actions. But our recognition that, even so, they remain sacred beings, calls us to a pluralism that involves honest and pointed critique and real pain, but which has no place for sheer contempt.

Justice: We work to be diverse multicultural Beloved Communities where all feel welcome and can thrive. Under Collapse in general Beloved Communities will be under assault. The pressures of a world where finitude means precipitously(!) less for each of us will amplify the impulse to hold onto what’s ours—even if it came to be “ours” only through a system biased against others. Furthermore, under a Trump-led Collapse, because Beloved Communities smack of DEIA practices (diversity-equity-inclusion-accessibility), our work for justice sets us on a collision course with the pathological values of Trumpism itself.

From efforts to undermine voting rights to creating fear within immigrant communities to undoing LGBTQ+ rights and altogether denying the reality of transgender persons, we are experiencing societal Collapse by executive order in real time. Because our work for Beloved Community is at the very heart of our religious vision for humanity, this value of justice makes the very practice of our religion an embodiment of what Trump has named “the enemy within”—a sacred manifestation of the “wokeness” he aims to erase from our civic life.

This suggests it is imperative to cultivate justice and democratic practices and undo the misshaping wrought by whiteness in our own communities with special urgency. As we make our own congregations vibrant living laboratories of justice, we will also gain essential skills and wisdom needed to let this holy yearning leaven the communities around us as well. This work will not be without peril. There are martyrs in our heritage. This may be a good time to become acquainted with their stories as seeds for our own faithfulness today.

Transformation: A living tradition adapts to changing world and supports individuals in their growth and the deepening of their understanding. As a UU community we have covenanted to grow together. It’s why we embedded in our bylaws the mandate to revisit our principles and values on a regular basis. The world changes, and our faithfulness must adapt to new knowledge and understanding of the world in which we dwell. This pledge to ongoing collective self-transformation means that today we re-imagine what it means to be “Answering the Call of Love”—in a time of Collapse, marked by ecological upheaval, economic uncertainty, social unrest, and political terror.

Part of this is admitting that some of the changes we face are irrevocable. We might endure and eventually overturn the present political tides, though that will not happen easily or quickly. But the shifting planetary dynamics driving Collapse overall will not be undone on any time scale that matters for human life. Still, we transform ourselves to be a community that seeks to alleviate suffering and to support human meaning regardless of our capacity to do this absolutely. We will, no doubt, have small victories … and major defeats. That is the nature of Collapse: more losses than gains. It is not a cheery prospect. But our readiness to transform again and again might provide the nimbleness that will allow us to persevere in our faith even in a collapsing world.

Generosity: We cultivate a spirit of gratitude and hope. I’ll be honest, this spirit sounds a bit ethereal until fleshed out by the demands of scarcity that Collapse will bring to bear. As we expound in our actual bylaws, “We covenant to freely and compassionately share our faith, presence, and resources. Our generosity connects us to one another in relationships of interdependence and mutuality.” The words were crafted so recently, just over the past five years, but they will be severely tested by Collapse.

True, our storied history includes persons who have shown remarkable generosity of spirit in dedicating themselves to abolition, suffrage, civil rights, and human rights around the world. Nonetheless, these “remarkable” stories will need to become the norm under Collapse. A generosity of faith that speaks truth and a generosity of presence/witness as civil rights and wellbeing are under attack, threaten to bring us into direct conflict with Trump’s rule (sadly, the word “governance” would be an inaccurate euphemism). Gratitude and hope can surely help sustain generosity, but grit and solidarity are spirits we must cultivate more rigorously to undergird our generosity in Collapse.

This is true, too, of our generosity with material resources. Both short term (under Trump) and long term (under full scale Collapse), sharing resources will no longer be an extension of our relative security. Rather, we will learn to share material goods in recognition of our profound mutual insecurity and vulnerability. This is a value whose mettle will be most honestly measured as want makes itself at home in our midst, as it surely will. Then generosity will be the heartbeat of our lives. Or our hearts themselves will be stilled.

Equity: We declare that every person is inherently worthy and has the right to flourish with dignity, love, and compassion. We make “flourishing” the benchmark of equity (and it ought to be), but there is no material human flourishing possible on a planet irreparably harmed by human exploitation. Our interdependence is so fully interwoven with the whole of our planet, that—especially as a Sixth Extinction unfolds, tearing asunder countless relationships upon which we and others in the community of Life depend—we must extend our perception of inherent worth to every echo of life. Inherent worth doesn’t mean equal worth, but it places an inescapable moral claim on us and our actions that we have sidestepped far too long.

Eventually, in the long unending season of Collapse, flourishing will not be possible, except as an inward disposition to be generous with the dignity, love, and compassion we bring into the world. Moreover, in a political context where equity is demonized—even criminalized—as an afront to the legacy of whiteness in our nation, the active embrace of equity may be consequential today in ways unimaginable just a decade ago. Knowing this, we should own equity, as the compass of our inward disposition or the aim of our outward collective action, with extra savvy and self-awareness. It may well place a target on us in exact proportion to how much we answer the call to be in solidarity with others who are targeted by the powers of our socio-economic systems and our authoritarian state.

Finally, as we extend inherent worth to all echoes of Life, in a time of Collapse it will become clear that for some of these echoes (creatures, species, ecosystems, peoples, perhaps even humanity as a whole), their lot in a collapsing world is to perish. Whatever it may mean to practice equity when we find ourselves accompanying others (or ourselves!) toward extinction, equity says that every being is worthy of honor, respect, and care even when flourishing—or survival—are no longer possible.

Love is the power that holds us together and is at the center of our shared values.* Love in practice manifests itself in the shared values we covenant to embody in our personal and collective lives. It is the restless, yearning energy that sits behind and moves within each value. As well as the hunger/invitation toward wholeness we acknowledge in the universe itself. And it is the agency—the inner drive—we aspire to have at the heart of our lives.

Yet we recognize that among the primal impulses of the cosmos there is also the tragic: that finitude dictates that life, from stars to microbes, comes at its own expense. Life writ large is renewed, as life writ small exhausts itself and is taken by others. And there is also an unholy capacity for evil—the needless yet willful causing of harm. We dare to suggest that this capacity is not evidence of a broken or rebellious humanity, but rather evidence of a primal tension that is intrinsic to self-aware beings who experience freedom—and finitude. Whether this is limited only to humans, we cannot say.

What we can say is that this capacity for evil seems to bear witness to an energy latent in the cosmos itself. It is part of the raw longing for Life not yet disciplined or accountable to a community. In this perspective, to speak of Liberating Love as our core value is to say that, in a universe relentlessly tinted by the tragic and persistently haunted by the potential for evil, in this time and place, we choose Love. We choose Love not singly but collectively, because Love is the choice to live in community within the tragic constraints of finitude and, insofar as possible, against the lure of evil.

In a very real sense, Collapse, as the imminent consequence of undisciplined living on a finite planet, and Trumpism, as the penultimate rebellion of human evil against the wondrous complexity of life and the denial of finitude—both of these reflect a strident rejection of Liberating Love and the values arrayed around it.

Many UU congregations light a chalice at the start of the service, a simple act of reverence that draws us together. That chalice is often linked to the Love we set at the center of our lives (as in the Shared Values Flower image). We typically light the chalice with one set of words and extinguish it at the end of the service with another. The readings vary, but in my congregation, we use these words every week at the end of our time together: “We extinguish this flame, but not the light of truth, the warmth of community, or the fire of commitment. These we carry in our hearts, until we are together again.”

This has been our habit for much longer than my time here. As we continue to light that flame each week under an increasingly despotic president and an ecologically ravaged planet, it is tempting to despair or panic. That’s the purpose behind “shock and awe.”

But the values we hold, the Love that animates them, and the collective energy of our covenantal life—these things are sufficient for the moment we’re in. Not that they will “save the day,” but that they will steady us to be channels of Love in a tilting world. We light the chalice weekly, as a visible symbol of the Love at center. But the truth is, we are that chalice. Gathered together, we host the flame of Liberating Love among us. And scattered afterwards, we each carry an ember of that flame, not only in our hearts, but also in our deeds.

We claim no monopoly on these values. Indeed, they are echoed in many other faith traditions. For us, they offer a theology for societal collapse that forms our character and fashions our commitments in tumultuous times. It is a Theology of Liberating Love that leads us to draw on the shared values of interdependence, pluralism, justice, transformation, generosity, and equity as we engage the dynamics of Collapse in this world.

The question is not whether doing so can “save” the world. More modest than that, it is whether doing so can save our humanity. Even that is not guaranteed. But we believe that keeping a lit chalice in our hearts and in our lives—together—is the place to begin. Collapse is here. Find your chalice and get lit.

* * * * * * *

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.

My Cancer is the Least of It

Feb9

My Cancer is the Least of It
David R. Weiss – February 7, 2025

Rather early in the Narnia Chronicles (by C.S. Lewis), there’s a scene where the children hear of Aslan for the first time. Aslan, of course, represents Jesus in this saga. While I’ve grown to disagree with much of Lewis’ theology, I still appreciate the way he describes Aslan/Jesus in this scene.

Susan, one of the four children who tumble through the Wardrobe and into Narnia, is surprised to learn that the King of Narnia, whom she will soon meet, is not a man, but a lion. “But—is he—quite safe?” she stammers. “Safe?” responds the Beaver in equal surprise. “Who said anything about safe? ’Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.”

Profoundly good. And Lewis gets this much right. Goodness is not safe. To place oneself in the company of goodness—or even to aspire to be a channel of goodness oneself—is to reckon something more valuable than safety.

I have long aspired to chase after goodness. Indeed, I’ve done so with some modest successes here and there. (Also, alas, with some dramatic failures.) But I’ve often hedged my bets around safety. Kept my risks “reasonable” and my passion mostly within the range of “socially acceptable.”

Has cancer changed that? Perhaps. It has certainly framed my remaining years with a bold sharpie marker of mortality. I’m not on borrowed time just yet, but finitude has shifted from an abstract concept to a dynamic consideration in how I spend my time. And how much energy I’m willing to invest in keeping my risks “reasonable” and my passion “socially acceptable.” Bottom line: I find that I’m willing to burn bridges, if necessary to make my desire for goodness unmistakably clear these days.

(If you missed that cancer memo, it’s here: “When Cancer Comes Calling.”)

I need to be clear: my life is (still?) pretty intact. True, my prostate is home to a pervasive and aggressive set of cancer cells right now. But I have zero symptoms and zero pain. I just know the cancer is there, actively plotting against my future. It will be removed on March 5, although the threat of recurrence will be with me for the rest of my life—and at odds far higher than I wish. That’s where I “feel” the cancer already. Reshaping my long-term prospects for years to come … and intensifying in the short term my deep hunger to be a channel of goodness in the world. Which is where those burning bridges come in.

I’ve been overwhelmed—humbled, steadied, gratified, amazed, and more—by the outpouring of support from people as they’ve learned of my cancer diagnosis. There really are no words to acknowledge has much the messages—coming in by card, text, Facebook, email, my blog, phone call, and in-person—have been a gift to me.

That’s why I noticed—viscerally—when several of those undeniably kind messages fell flat. Two came from a cousin. Just a couple years apart in age, we grew up almost side by side and were especially close during the years she was in college, and I was in seminary. We’ve stayed in touch, and I’ve been uncomfortably aware that our political values have taken very different directions over the years. Her open support for Trump—her confidence that his election would make her life better—has mystified me and bothered me. But I didn’t engage. I wasn’t going to risk burning any bridges over it.

Until now.

Partly, on account of cancer. It was, after all, her kind words in response to my diagnosis, that didn’t sit right. But partly, too, on account of all that is happening in America these days. The collision of my cancer, Trump’s presidency, and her note was like striking steel to flint, and by the time I finished responding to her second message, I suspect there was a bridge ablaze.

Both messages were sincere and brimful of “innocent” well wishes: strength for “the fight ahead” and encouragement to allow myself “moments of tears and anger.” And even a bit of heartfelt wit and wisdom from our past years playing BINGO at family picnics: “Remember, don’t clear your card.” Because we played from straight line to four corners to full card, it was a reminder to keep building on the faith, values, and preparation already on “my card.” All well-intended. All offered from a place of care. Nothing should have tied my stomach in a knot. But it was. Knotted and then some.

And I knew why. I could not reconcile her effusive care for me with her vote for Trump and her “celebration” of his election. And it was time for me to say so. And I did. I wrote:

Thank you for your kind words, both your text and this Facebook message.

I must confess, though, the biggest “fight” on my hands these days is responding adequately to all the damage Trump and Musk (and others) are intent on doing to our country. I am numb with grief and frantic with rage.

My housemates—two FINE brown-skinned Brazilians—move with fear these days, as do the Brazilian couple who lived with us last year. Although here legally, they know Trump’s rhetoric breeds danger for them. The same is true for least seven members of my immediate family includes two daughters, two sons-in-law, and three grandsons—all brown-skinned, all Spanish speakers, all marked as “unwanted” (or worse) by Trump’s rhetoric.

A young adult transgender friend is deeply fearful (her parents, fearful and enraged) that the medications absolutely essential to her health, may be denied to her because Trump has such contempt for anything he doesn’t understand. I probably have two dozen or more good friends, persons I’ve known for years, who are trans. Every one of them wakes with dread each day. Both for the uncertainty of their access to medical care and the assault on their human rights. And for the certainty that the public contempt being stoked upon them will lead to physical assaults sooner or later.

From my years working as an Ally for the acceptance and affirmation of LGBTQ persons in church and society, I have at least! 200 gay or lesbian friends. Dear friends! Many of them married, nearly all of them now living in daily fear that their rights, too, will be unwound by a man and a political party that lives by sowing disdain for those who are different—in God-given ways.

As someone who traveled in Uganda and has maintained close friendships in that beautiful land (there is a little 8-year-old boy named after me in Uganda!), I tremble for the sheer death being vented their way as Trump unravels USAID programs that have fought malaria and HIV/AIDS in the very communities I visited, among the very people who welcomed me there.

After writing for years now about the peril of climate change, I despair at Trump’s determination to bring it on faster, hotter, more deadly for my children and yours. He will lay waste to the world if he can. More than just people, countless animals, even entire species and ecosystems, are having their obituaries written right now in his executive orders and mandates.

And having spent my whole adult life—from educating my mind (and heart) to ransacking all my words, from burning midnight oil to marching in the streets—in pursuit of a world where all persons might feel honored and safe, I am beyond aghast that Trump, Vance, Musk, and the cult-like culture they have created take such perverse joy in belittling others and destroying institutions that while imperfect, at least imperfectly sought the common good. The wreckage they will leave in their wake—the wreckage they’ve *already left* in less than two weeks!—will take decades to undo. Some of it will wound the world for generations.

Right alongside my cancer diagnosis, I have watched them gleefully swing a wrecking ball at the civilized world, intent on creating chaos, from which they are sure to turn a profit. I cannot begin to count the number of faithful and dedicated civil servants and foreign service workers (in development and medicine!) whose vocations and careers will be cancelled by Trump’s narcissistic vengeance and the inhumane ideology of those who ride on his coattails. And I weep for the (millions of!) lives that will be lost on account of their recklessness. From infants to elderly, from Minnesota to Indiana, from the United States to Uganda and around the globe, Trump and his accomplices are not so much “unleashing” suffering as they are knowingly and intentionally creating it. With malevolent satisfaction.

No wonder I don’t sleep well. It has nothing to do with my prostate. Everything to do with those in Congress—and those in cities and towns across America who fall prostRate before this evil. (And those who welcomed Trump’s election precisely because they saw it as an invitation to wreak their violent racist-homophobic-misogynist anger in the open now.)

Listen, I remember back when you were in college, and we would occasionally have long conversations while I was home from seminary. Our minds—both bright—traveled far together, measuring ideas and ideals. Asking BIG questions about what could be and wondering how we might leverage our lives to make those “could be’s” happen. Good memories. Such good memories. I call back to them now.

Trust me, with whatever time I have left, I intend to leverage my cancerous life undoing the damage done by this man’s wickedness. Never before have I encountered a political agenda that runs so counter to the values I hold, the values instilled in me by my family and my faith.

As my surgery date approaches, and as Trump’s nightmarish vision unfolds, I promise you, through tears and anger, and keeping family and faith close, I have no intention of clearing my card until I place enough chips of freedom and justice, peace and honor, to make for a full card BINGO that includes every person and every group that Trump and his cronies dehumanize. This drives me like nothing else.

Finally, I hope your thoughts and prayers can include not only me, but all the members of my family and all my friends directly targeted by Trump’s rhetoric and by the swirls of hate it stirs up.

Truly, my cancer is the least of it. But I thank you for your kind words. I will surely need them for the fight ahead.

Sending you thanks and love, David

I took a breath—and hit “send.” I immediately reread the message and asked myself, “Too much?” And I instantly answered my own question: “I barely scraped the surface.”

Donald Trump, JD Vance, Elon Musk, the architects of Project 2025 (now embedded in our government), and most of the GOP who now eagerly pursue Christian nationalism/fascism, white supremacy, deregulation, and the destruction of our democracy—these people and their initiatives have declared war on my people. Really, on most people—and on the planet as well. And I will not keep my risks “reasonable” or my passion mostly within the range of “socially acceptable.” I will burn bridges, if that’s what it takes to make my desire for goodness—for the wellbeing of my people (most people) and the planet—unmistakably clear these days.

Who said anything about safe? Sometimes choosing goodness is like striking steel to flint. Bridges be damned.

*******

The President’s Anti-DEI Orders are Anti-America—and Anti-God

Jan28

The President’s Anti-DEI Orders are Anti-America—and Anti-God
David R. Weiss – January 27, 2025

There’s a lot going on. Little of it good. And I hardly know where to begin. Let’s start with DEI (that is, efforts to promote diversity, equity, inclusion—which also encompasses accessibility).

The president made no secret of his disdain for DEI policies during his campaign. And I get it. For someone so deeply invested in the wanton exploitation, abuse, and humiliation of people, DEI is more than a mere inconvenience. In fact, DEI policies are an assault on the chosen lifestyle of those who hold obscene wealth and who lust for unlimited power. No wonder it rankles the man’s undies. (I emphasize chosen lifestyle, because, unlike sexual orientation or gender identity, no one is born a sociopathic oligarch; that’s a lifestyle you choose—and it reeks of sin.)

But there are deeper contradictions to his anti-DEI fervor.

For instance, we close the Pledge of Allegiance with this stirring declaration: “with liberty and justice for all.” You don’t even need to be a “very stable genius” to recognize that, as a nation, we haven’t yet lived up to that promise. We’ve rarely even truly aimed for it. For women, religious minorities, persons of color, and those differently abled or LGBTQ, America has only begrudgingly even begun to make good on these words. Honestly, plenty of Americans continue to believe in a trickle-down effect of “liberty and justice” that starts with white men and stops trickling soon after it reaches (some) white women.

This is why DEI matters. It’s one clear manifestation of our acknowledgement that bias and injustice have marked our national past. And that we are indeed committed to take real steps (not simply rehearse empty rhetoric) to make good on the words in our Pledge as we move into the future. DEI is about fulfilling the dream of America for all of us, not just for some of us.

It’s NOT about tilting the table unfairly against white men or giving preferential treatment to unqualified persons. It’s about recognizing that historical circumstances and societal systems have unfairly disadvantaged whole categories of people—and that only by actively, intentionally, and systematically undoing those disadvantages can we move toward an America with liberty and justice for all. DEI policies express the core conviction that America’s greatness—the fullness of liberty and justice for all—rests upon the vibrancy of its diversity, equity, and inclusion.

I suppose it’s possible our current president doesn’t actually believe in these values, but for all the breath he’s spent talking about making America great, it would be a travesty (or worse!) if he imagines our greatness comes by quashing diversity, eschewing equity, and preventing inclusion. Quick reminder: that’s pretty much exactly what Great Britain tried toward the Thirteen Colonies in the eighteenth century. We responded with a revolution.

However, there’s a second contradiction (in my mind an even more damning one!) in the president’s determination to end DEI as an extension of his claim to having been “saved by God to make America great again.” He even doubled down on this god-talk, pledging “we will not forget our country, we will not forget our Constitution, and we will not forget our God.” About that “we”—is that his claim to be speaking on behalf of his party or his administration? Or is it, as I fear, a Freudian slip into the “royal-we,” reflecting his monarchical aspirations … or delusions?

In any case, here’s the problem. God is so deeply committed to DEI that it’s embedded in the divine name itself. It happens in that famous biblical scene with the burning bush. God appears to Moses, as the Voice from the burning bush explains, “For I have heard the cry of those suffering under a regime that denies diversity, equity, and inclusion. And I am coming to redeem them. To lead them out of Egypt and set them in a land where they can flourish.” (Here and elsewhere, paraphrased from Exodus.)

God appoints Moses to be the catalyst for this liberation—to act as God’s DEI czar, so to speak. Moses is understandably intimidated. He stammers, “If I’m to go back and tell my kin that—against all the oppressive power of Egypt—some unseen holiness is going to set them free, they’re going to want to know WHO this god is. So, please, tell me your name.”

In response God offers as the Divine Name, the first-person form of the Hebrew verb “to be.” Often translated “I am who I am,” and sometimes (mistakenly) regarded as the evasion of a name, this is, in fact, God’s direct self-disclosure. In this name God declares, “There is no box that can contain me, no flowery speech that can impress me, and absolutely no regime—Egyptian, Zionist, or Trumpian—that can presume to control me because ‘I am who I am.’ And whoever would be in relationship with me must meet me as Holy Surprise and on terms of Radical Humility.”

You know how the story plays out. Pharoah is about as anti-DEI as you can get. Über-Trumpian (ahem) in his policies. Tariffs? “Let them gather their own straw to make bricks.” Mass deportations? “Kill every baby boy that is born!” Arrogant? “Who is this ‘I AM,’ that I should listen and let these people go? I do not know your god, but I find him neither compelling nor smart—indeed, he has a nasty attitude. And you, Moses, you are boring and uninspiring. Go away. These people are mine to do with as I wish.” And so it goes, until Pharoah finds himself repeatedly plagued by episodes of Holy Surprise.

But this sense of the NAME—“I am who I am—which MEANS I am committed to the wellbeing of the least of these … and to overturning the power of those who oppress them”—this is the character of God consistently revealed across the arc of the biblical story. Second-born sons (or lower) repeatedly become chosen ones, women act decisively-courageously-wisely, a Jubilee resets the entire economy, foreigners become divine instruments, the prophets rail against social and economic injustice (and—against fancy worship that ignores the suffering of people), eunuchs (queer people!) are praised for their faithfulness, and God declares—in a fit of rampant wokeness(!): “I am not yet done gathering in the outcasts!” (Isaiah 56:8) This is DEI on steroids!

Mary echoes it all in her Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55), and Jesus embodies it in his ministry. His parables, healings, and meal fellowship obliterate theboundaries of exclusion. From shepherds and wizards (Magi), barren women and bleeding women, lepers and demoniacs, tax collectors and revolutionaries, Samaritans and Gentiles, persons with all manner of disabilities, the man is a DEI-magnet for every imaginable outcast person. In Jesus, the DEI-activity of God is made manifest. The gospels name it as “the kingdom of God.” The Aramaic literally says, “the-activity-of-God-acting-as-king,” and it is nothing less than God bringing diversity, equity, and inclusion to human community. NOTHING LESS THAN THIS!

One last image. Saint Irenaeus of Lyons (122-202 CE), a bishop (no doubt, a nasty one) suggested with evocative richness, “The glory of God is a human person fully alive.” The words were written against the Gnostics, a group who denigrated the human body—both its needs and its desires—as unholy. Against this attitude, Irenaeus responded by saying that in our humanity—our fragile needs and our unpredictable longings, our rampant diversity and our capacity for generosity and compassion—THIS is where the glory of God is revealed. Of course, Irenaeus wrote in Latin: “Gloria Dei vivens homo.” Let me put it back into English for you: The glory of DEI is humanity fully alive.

Our president (and those around him) are dead set on emptying America of its promise—and dead set on opposing the liberating work of the biblical God. He will fail. You can choose to ally yourself with the president—or with God. Don’t imagine you can do both. They are on opposite sides.

*******

Only the Lord Almighty Can Save Us Now

Jul7

Only the Lord Almighty Can Save Us Now
David R. Weiss – July 7, 2024

Since last Thursday’s debate-debacle Facebook has presented me with an abundance of binary-byte memes intended to police me and my discontent-panic-anger-betrayal back into the fold of what is “possible” in politics. I call bullshit.

In an era of deep polarization, social media (really simply personalized “sound-byte media”) has only amplified our penchant for push button reactions. Thanks to their eye-catching quality and algorithm-enhanced presence, we don’t simply “see” in memes, we’re led to THINK in memes. To process information in binary pairs that reduce the range of options to THIS or THAT.

This is beyond dangerous in a complex world. Memes—and most Facebook comments—work assiduously to foreclose critical thought. I’d argue they do so more aggressively on the right because conservative thought frames lend themselves to either/or thinking. But the left is not immune to this, and, as either conviction and anxiety rises, liberals and progressives are just as susceptible to the false lure of an either/or.

We’ve seen this happen since the October 7 attack on Israel by Hamas. Any critique of Israel is framed as uncritical excuse of Hamas’ atrocities—and any attempt to offer a principled presentation of the Palestinian cause is painted as antisemitic. There’s virtually no room for both/and thinking. And yet we know that both/and thinking is the hallmark of critical thought—and the baseline for addressing complex problems.

These are just a fraction of the memes I’ve seen since the debate. Each one contains a half-truth, twisted into a whole “truth” … which is just plain a lie:

“I’ll take my elder statesman with a half-century of experience over your traitor.” Me, too. But if it seems apparent and even likely that “my elder stateman” is no longer up to the task of winning this critical election, am I not allowed to DEMAND a better option?

“Saying a liar won a debate is like saying a player who cheated won a game.” But when half the voting public is cheering on the liar—and the lies!—it’s NOT a strategy to simply avoid acknowledging how horribly your guy performed.

“Just because you think Alfred is too old to take care of Batcave, you don’t replace him with the Joker.” But isn’t Batcave too critical to limit the options to a nefarious Joker or a “too old” Alfred?!

“He wasn’t feeling well and he was arguing with the actual devil. Don’t you dare abandon him.” Seriously?! Biden barely had the energy or the acuity to argue with anyone.

“He’s not the lesser of two evils. He’s the far better human and it’s not even close.” Yes, but if he’s unable to mount a winning campaign and govern ably for another four years (both of which are in obvious doubt), then isn’t being the far better human is a moot point?!

“You really need to be more bothered by Project 2025 than the debate.” This is perhaps the most insidious meme of all because it implies you can’t afford to be bothered by both. Yet we might well end up with Project 2025 if we choose not to be bothered by the debate!

Yes, it’s late in the game to make changes. But that not my fault! It was Biden who declared himself a bridge to the next generation of democratic leadership—and then refused to be that bridge in a timely way. And it was Biden and the DNC that spurned any real primary, when it could’ve tested his mettle and refined his vision and message against those of his fellow Democrats rather than waiting to do so against Trump.

While we may have been caught off guard by the unnerving weakness of Biden’s debate performance, not everyone was. As The Guardian recounts, over the past two years, Biden’s inner circle intentionally limited his press conferences, interviews, and direct interactions with members of Congress. Each of the past two years—despite approaching the most consequential election of our lifetimes—Biden has skipped the tradition of a Super Bowl TV interview. There were those who knew he was better off out of the public view. But we weren’t.

What unfolded last Thursday during primetime was the result of a calculated gamble on the part of Biden’s handlers who have tried to cover for his declining stamina and mental clarity. And it proved to be a miscalculation of the highest order. Far better to have seen this during a Democratic primary rather than a debate just four months shy of an election in which democracy itself is on the line—where democracy’s standard bearer suddenly looks all too frail.

That matters because we know this election will be decided not by voters who’ve already made up their mind—but by two crucial categories of people: voters still undecided as to who they’ll support and (potential) voters still undecide as to whether they’ll vote at all. To win this election, both for the Democratic Party and for democracy itself, we need a candidate who can galvanize these two groups of people. And Joe Biden—even on his best day—can barely do that. On his worst days—there will be more—he will hand this election to Trump.

Despite what the memes would have us believe, multiple things can be true.

Trump may be the greatest threat to democracy (and to civil rights of all sorts) in my lifetime.

And Project 2025, for all its mind-numbing 900+ pages, may be a carefully constructed roadmap to a white nationalist future just waiting for Trump (or another far right candidate) to press “start.” Especially with a judiciary now stacked to greenlight it.

And Biden (despite “winning” all those delegates in primary contests he and the DNC conducted with Putin-like efficiency!) may be unable to effectively campaign—either against Trump or for an America with a widening promise. (Let alone govern effectively for the next four years.)

And, messy though it may be, our best chance to defeat Trump and white nationalism (the values of which are on the ballot in some places and beneath the ballot in others) may be to replace Biden even at this late date.

And the Democratic Party does have an abundance of articulate, passionate, visionary leaders, any number of whom could step into this messy situation with a presence that would reassure democrats at large and re-engage those disaffected by Biden’s candidacy—and offer a vision that would bring those still sitting on the sidelines forward as citizens committed to an America with a widening future.

Nothing about this is easy. Or uncomplicated. There are multiple paths forward, some begin with Kamala Harris, others with a mini-primary. All are messy. But while buying into the binary and staying the course with Biden might masquerade as loyalty and resolve, it portends catastrophe for both the party and the country, for marginalized communities and long-standing institutions, for international alliances and for those we love.

The stakes are unimaginably high. Fascism is on our doorstep; the end of democracy is up for a vote(!). Trump’s energy plan is ecological suicide. And “our man of the moment” showed last Thursday that he is not up to the challenge of this moment. Whatever his skills and accomplishments of the past, he will not carry the day come November.

Right now, the best political move Biden can make to secure his legacy is to step back with grace—and swiftly. Instead, he’s asserted “only the Lord Almighty” could dissuade him from continuing his campaign. Quickly adding that he doesn’t expect to hear any divine voice at all. More troubling, when George Stephanopoulos asked how he’d feel next January if he stayed in the race and Trump won, Biden replied, “I’ll feel as long as I gave it my all and I did the goodest job as I know I can do, that’s what this is about.”

No, Mr. President, that is not what this is about!

For far too long Biden, his inner staff, and the DNC have delayed a difficult but necessary conversation about who comes next and what that means for the prospects of American democracy. That conversation is now upon us with existential urgency. November 5 is not going anywhere—except closer. Day. By. Day.

Honestly, despite my title, I don’t expect the Lord Almighty to save us. But I do expect Democratic leaders, past presidents, top donors, and millions of little voices like mine (and yours?) to become a burning bush that tells the President unmistakably, “It’s time to end your campaign. Now.”

We have (just barely!) the time and yet surely(!) the talent, values, and vision to win this election. But as of today, we don’t have the winning candidate. And the one person who can remedy that is Joe Biden. Mr. President, you say your deepest wish is to unite us. You can do that best by allowing—and urging—us to unite around someone other than you. For the sake of your party, our country, and democracy itself, that moment is now.

* * *

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.

* * *

An Open Letter to Minnesota’s ELCA Bishops

Jan29

NOTE: On Sunday afternoon I emailed this letter to all six of Minnesota’s ELCA bishops, along with a brief introductory note in which I state, “I am deeply concerned that the President is leading us into an era in which he will intentionally escalate xenophobic fear in order to make possible deep and damaging changes to our institutions and to the social fabric of our society. The church cannot be caught flat-footed in this moment. It cannot take a cautious “wait and see” approach. I know the situation regarding the order on refugees and immigrants is dynamic and may change between the time I send and you read this message. Nevertheless, I ask you to take my words to heart and consider together how you will choose to exercise leadership for Minnesota Lutherans in which is quickly becoming a national crisis of civility and Christian conscience. I believe that some statement of public witness that includes both a clear pronouncement that the administration’s intended treatment of refugees and immigrants is unequivocally unchristian—and a clear pronouncement that you WILL lead your church into direct confrontation with an administration if it tries to compel your members to betray their faith for sake of country—is essential.”

An Open Letter to Minnesota’s ELCA Bishops

On this Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
January 29, 2017
“What does the LORD require of you, except this, that you do justice,
that you show mercy, and that you walk humbly with your God?” Micah 6:8

Dear friends in Christ,

As I write these words, Muslims, immigrants, and especially refugees, tremble in fear.

While the President has done many things in his first week in office that Christians might take issue with, his executive order this past Friday banning refugees along with immigrants from certain countries is jarring in its immediacy.

As Lutherans we affirm with evangelical zeal that God’s work happens through our hands. Here in Minnesota we Lutherans have set the standard for using our hands to provide human hospitality and institutional resources of welcome to the immigrant and refugee communities that make Minnesota their home. Even as we struggle (with little success) to deepen the diversity in our congregations, we have at least continued to excel in our active witness of welcome to immigrants and refugees.

But the Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service calls the President’s recent order “a drastic contradiction of what it means to be an American” in that it “completely disregards the values on which our country was founded.” In fact, the LIRS, hardly a voice on the leftwing fringe, goes so far as to name this executive order “reprehensible.” (lirs.org, January 27, 2017)

More than this, for Christians, it is unconscionable. It asks us to violate our conscience.

The witness of our Hebrew forebears is unequivocal: “When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. You shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God.” (Leviticus 19:33-34)

The declaration of Jesus is equally clear: “I was a stranger and you welcomed (or did not) welcome me … just as you did it (or did not do it) to the least of these.” (Matthew 25: 35, 40, 43, 45)

And the pledges we make in baptism reveal the stark death-to-life transformation that sits at the heart of our faith. “I renounce the devil and all the forces that defy God. I renounce the powers of this world that rebel against God. And I renounce the ways of sin that draw me from God.” (ELW, p. 229, Holy Baptism)

Thus, to be ordered to participate in the detention and/or deportation of refugees or lawful “aliens” (the word used in both the President’s order and the biblical text) will place Christians who work in U.S. Immigration, Homeland Security, or other agencies directed to execute this order, in a position that requires them to contradict their faith. To borrow the powerful image from Shusaku Endo’s Silence, they will be forced to trample on the face of Christ.

We—all of us—are ever tempted to be moderate in our response to evil. We prefer to wait and see. We’d rather defer to the courts (whose current stay is only temporary and in no way removes the contradiction to personal faith). We hope for the best. We’re content to pray.

However, in this moment, on this Sunday as we hear both the words of Micah and the Beatitudes, it seems critical to hear also the pained words of Martin Niemöller, penned not in a flight of heroic wisdom, but with regret for not having acted boldly … in the first moment.

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Socialist. Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Trade Unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

We each have a responsibility in this moment. And lest it become the first moment in a litany like Niemöller’s it is essential that we respond fully. And now. Because you are leaders, your foremost responsibility is to lead. I invite … encourage … implore you to lead in this moment in this way.

Confer with each other and then declare, publicly and in unison:

that President Trump’s executive order suspending the arrival of refugees, limiting the free movement of lawful aliens, and directing the detention and possible deportation of these persons is contrary to Christian faith;
that, as Lutherans we understand the promises we make in baptism to be both lifelong and communal;
and that therefore, in the state of Minnesota, any Lutheran whose job compels them to participate in this blatantly unchristian task—and who refuses to comply—these persons will have the full legal, financial, and spiritual support of Minnesota’s six ELCA synods.

(There are many more actions to which we may be called, some of which may ultimately be more useful and strategic. But the integrity of our baptismal pledges—and the authenticity of our pastoral-prophetic posture requires at least this much. And swiftly. Similarly, I’d be delighted to see such a declaration spread across the ELCA nationally and across other denominations as well. But it makes sense—perhaps it is the Spirit’s leading from our particular past into our present—that it begin here in Minnesota. On Monday.)

May the unrest you feel in your souls lead you to prayerful discernment, to courageous leadership, and to holy witness for the upbuilding of Christ’s church.

Yours in Christ,
David Robert Weiss
Saint Paul, MN

cc:
Bishop Thomas Aitken, Northeast Minnesota Synod, ELCA, thomas.aitken@nemnsynod.org
Bishop Jon Anderson, Southwest Minnesota Synod, ELCA, jon.anderson@swmnelca.org
Bishop Steven Delzer, Southeast Minnesota Synod, ELCA, delzer@semnsynod.org
Bishop Patricia Lull, Saint Paul Area Synod, ELCA, patricia.lull@spas-elca.org
Bishop Ann Svennungsen, Minneapolis Area Synod, ELCA, a.svennungsen@mpls-synod.org
Bishop Larry Wohlrabe, Northwest Minnesota Synod, ELCA, wohlrabe@cord.edu