Participants in a campaign event pray for former President Trump in Doral, Florida
Credit: Alex Brandon, Associated Press
No matter how well-intentioned this prayerful moment may have been for the participants, the outstretched hands praying for Trump in the photograph above triggered in me disturbing memories of the salute exchanged by members of the Nazi party when I was growing up during the Second World War. Perhaps I would not have made that association so quickly if recent press coverage had not revealed the agenda of the former president to be frighteningly similar to fascists of that era.
Alas, much of the current support for an autocratic system of government comes from a Christian Nationalism movement that, in the name of “faith,” essentially uses their interpretation of the Bible to achieve their political ends—a hierarchical theocratic autocracy in which the adherents occupy top positions of power. In this rule-bound system, Jesus' teachings that "God is love" and that his followers should "love their neighbors" are mainly ignored. In its more extreme forms, the movement justifies hate and violence to achieve its vision of America as a promised land for European Chistrians. One might argue—and perhaps the common assumption is—that "Love" is simply an emotional attachment reserved for family and friends. I beg to differ.
There’s a line from one of the songs I’ve written called “Love Rules” that says ”Love forgives but it is not blind.” My use of the phrase is in reference to that often-quoted old romantic adage that “love is blind.” As a result of awakening to the concept of a larger over-seeing Love in my life, I was attempting in my lyrical revision to say that Love sees the truth, not only of our interpersonal relationships which we bring into the flourishing of communities, but also our concerns for the welfare of cities and states, and even the health of democracy. Simultaneously, Love is not blind to lying, greed, lust for power, racism, misogyny, hatred and violence but rather through us Love works for the common good and justice to prevail.
Lately we’ve mentioned that we’re working on the last several chapters of our book, where the main themes of music, justice, and faith converge. Like many writers who deal with such topics, we often find ourselves writing for our own understanding as much as for our readers. We can relate to Flannery O’Conner’s confession “I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.” Like making music, growing in faith, and working for just causes, writing is taking a risk. Even though we've not finished, much of what we are writing explores the issues we all will be facing following this election.
Democracy has always been a messy project, but now the stakes are higher than they’ve ever been. Many people have a sense of impending doom about a possible Trump presidency with no guardrails. How generous are we going to be to our neighbor if we feel—because of the flag flying in the back of their pickup truck or the sign on their front lawn—that they were directly responsible for electing someone who apparently has no moral compass, no concern for anyone other than himself, and no respect for the Constitution of the United States?
We're at a point in our nation's history where personal character seems to be the last bastion of hope for the human race. We might assume that elected political officials represent the will of the people, but unless we take care of our own hearts, our own self respect and companionship—and offer them to our neighbor—we're gonna be in trouble. Despite all our faults, failures, and flaws as human beings, we must be able to trust ourselves and others to find common ground.
How are we to live going forward?
I would suggest that there IS a meeting place: a place where a similarity of trust connects us beyond differences in biblical interpretation, doctrine and ritual. For some wondrous collective reason, we humankind seem to understand that while Love’s presence may be invisible, it is nonetheless universal. And though we’ve been endowed with the capacity to ignore it, we are in the “presence” as often as we recognize it. That's our choice.
And I find to be at one with this larger presence called Love calls for a visualization of an absorptive nature—to make oneself more accessible—connecting to something much larger than ourselves, our bodies, the floor that we’re standing on, or even the world that we’re in. At those times, as we become aware of our connection to and our place within the larger whole, created and sustained by Love, I think we are most empowered to love our neighbors.
In the days and months and years following this election, our country is going to need citizens who feel called to do the work of Love. We are going to need neighbors and leaders who believe these words of Martin Luther King, Jr.: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.”
We are also going to need Love’s constant companion, hope. Playwright and former Czech president Václav Havel has said, “Hope is not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something is worth doing regardless of how it turns out.… [This] hope … gives us the strength to live and continually to try new things, even in conditions that seem as hopeless as ours do, here and now.” So might that, then, become our daily calling? Waking from sleep and dedicating ourselves —in hope, in Love—to the day.
Going forward, you might say…
Connections
“Democracy Is Love,” by Holly Berkley Fletcher, is a meditative poem for these days around the election. She writes a Substack newsletter called A Zebra without Stripes.
Watch “Julie Ingersoll at The Cottage: A Conversation about Project 2025, Christian Nationalism, and the Long Fight Ahead.” Most scholars of Christian Nationalism approach it as a belief system, but Julie treats it from a sociological perspective. Although the podcast is long, close to the beginning is a 10-minute slide presentation that will give you a good overview.
The co-hosts of The Convocation—Diana Butler Bass, Jemar Tisby, and Kristin Du Mez, and Robert P. Jones — recently returned from their Faith and Democracy Tour which took them to five cities in nine days. Watching this video of their conversation in Tempe, AZ, was almost like overhearing these four leading public commentators on white Christian nationalism as they were at the dinner table. Listen to what they say about “going forward.
Vibrations
Listen to the song mentioned in our essay: Love Rules!
Resonance
Here are several questions for your reflection:
What is your plan for staying grounded in uncertain times?
What does the quote from Havel mean in your circumstance?
How does Noel’s song speak to you this week?
This offers such an insightful definition of real hope. We are indeed at a watershed moment that only Love can transcend through the exercise of hope that operates blind to outward appearances or what the odds may predict. What resonates the most for me is that "we have the capacity" to ignore Love's presence--to choose blindness instead. Choice. Free will. Millions have apparently chosen blindness as fascism waits in the wings. I am disheartened and puzzled, but Love and Hope sound like good companions in the slog ahead to see what tomorrow brings. And not just Wednesday.
The 2nd random song I heard after finding out the election results just about knocked me over with its poignant lyrics. It was about a person who saw things romantically and idealistically at one point in life, but then became more hardened and cynical with age. And upon this reflection, realized that both perspectives were right and both perspectives were wrong. It was all just one big mystery—not so much unknowable, but rather endlessly knowable.
To paraphrase some of the lyrics:
Old friends are acting strange, they say I’ve changed.
Well, something’s lost but something’s gained in living every day.
I’ve looked at life from both sides now, from win and lose, give and take, up and down.
And after all this, I really don’t know life at all.
It brought tears to my eyes. How wonderful God is to point me to such a humble contemplation, backed by such a consoling melodic progression. I felt the song peel away my anxieties and hostilities. It softened my heart. Some of us can’t grasp the Great Wonderful Mystery yet because we’ve just seen one narrow side of it. We're all so scared, and we continue to view life/politics/religion through whatever filter calms our fears.
Well, that’s a start toward patience and compassion for me, at least. And, like Havel said, hope.