Have a Little Faith in Faith

Some takeaways from Bishop Budde's Badassery in the face of fascism

“If we’re going to get a Democrat back in the White House,” I say, “I think the platform needs some kind of genuine spiritual element. There’s got to be a way to address the God-shaped hole in secular, progressive folks.”

The dark-eyed attorney across the aisle shakes her head. It’s late in the evening, January 21st, 2017. We’re aboard a chartered bus returning to Manhattan from the Washington D.C. Women’s March. The packed coach smells of sweat-soaked coats. Fellow passengers chat low, others slump against fogged windows, exhausted. A few still sport hand-woven pink “pussy hats.” I am both tired and wired, not unlike an inebriated person. I’m less concerned than usual about annoying someone.

I admire the attorney, a fellow parent, a new foxhole friend. We‘ve been yelling together most of the day. I intuit she is a devoted mom, a warrior woman fending off despair in her own way. Her daughter and my wife and son are also aboard. On any other day, the attorney’s disapproving, sad smile at my mention of “spirituality” would spark my people-pleaser-ness, and shut me up. But I’m jazzed from the march, the exuberant chanting, real-time solidarity like I’ve never felt, all amid blessedly mild weather. An estimated 680,000 participants, one of the largest single-day protests in U.S. history, three times the attendees at Trump’s inauguration the previous day. Incredibly, as a member of this indignant horde, I have witnessed no bad behavior, none. While successfully articulating mass rage, these over half-a-million strong have been remarkably nonviolent. Defiantly hopeful.

Washington D.C. Women’s March, 1-21-17, composite image by Joe Ward

It’s been a spiritual experience, and I’m reeling from it. All day I’ve been squarely in the moment, detached from regret for the past, and fear for the future. Since election night 2016, the toxic stories have reigned. I am temporarily free of them, tapped into collective spirit, flush with thoughts of what, besides social media and mass gatherings, connects people. What evokes communal power, what inspires that which Lincoln coined (and Obama quoted) “the better angels of our nature”?

Raw-voiced from shouting all day, I plow on, even as it dawns on me I’m not convincing my new friend:

“Lincoln had spiritual authority. Martin Luther King, Jr. had it. Jimmy Carter had, and has it. He’s a Sunday school teacher, for chrissakes. Their faith helped them reach the masses, the overtly religious and otherwise, in tumultuous times. Of course Clinton and Obama have their strong points, but any time they mention faith, it does not ring true to me as something that truly sustains them. Hillary, too.”

“No,” the attorney says. She’s not unkind, but she has heard enough. “No, no, no. I disagree. That kind of thinking helped get us here.”

“You mean the Evangelicals? It does suck that they’ve been in the Republicans’ corner since Reagan.”

“Yes, them. For starters.”

“But they’re not the only spiritually yearning people out there. Even people like me who believe in science and see the downsides of established religion are still feeling that particular yearning. Despite scientific progress and enlightenment, humans are still wired for it.”

“Maybe. But I think it’s an awful idea.”

I change the subject. But I don’t stop thinking about it.

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Later, it occurs to me I could’ve mentioned I know full well the unsavory aspects of religion.

I wasn’t saying a Democratic presidential candidate should necessarily be religious. I was saying I think some genuine spiritual gravitas would draw more into the tent, enliven a fair amount already in the fold. Perhaps, Emperor’s New Clothes-style, some spiritually resonant language could illuminate the con that is Trump 2.0 to such a degree that folks who’ve bought it, or choose not to see it, cannot look away, cannot be passive and apathetic while the man literally scorches the earth.

The very word religion is derived from the Latin religare, meaning “to restrain, tie back.” (The word ligament comes from the same root.) It’s kind of the opposite of freedom. I understand the Founding Fathers’ determination to keep it out of the inherently changeable nature of American democracy. And of course all of its forms can and do create horror as well as evoke grace. That’s hardly news. Christendom was built on blood. Islam is similarly blighted by barbarism, to this day. The Netanyahu government’s recent atrocities in the name of Israel will go down in history, as will the 10-7-23 Hamas attack. All supposedly in the name of the God of Abraham.

I have personal experience with religious-sanctioned violence. As a Catholic school attendee in the late 70s, I witnessed harrowing brutality at the hands of Sister Dawn. This burly, disturbed nun routinely bruised boys (never girls) with a hockey stick she kept behind her desk. She once grabbed a mischievous friend of mine by his hair and dragged him still in his desk across the classroom. She repeatedly slapped my brother on the neck and shoved wet fudge in his ears, her fingernails leaving bloody marks on his skin. She suffered no consequences for these actions.

My son’s godfather Luis was sexually abused by priests in the 70s. In the early ‘aughts, after a fellow abuse sufferer and friend died by suicide, Luis threatened a lawsuit. He received a couple hundred thousand dollars in settlement. After his death, a small chunk of that money helped pay my son’s college tuition.

So if you have a knee-jerk aversion to religion, I get it. For the record, I am no Christian. (I prefer the term Possibilian.) As a means of giving tangible shape and language to humankind’s existential questions and innate yearnings, religion is significantly flawed. (Art is better.) It is often more about authoritarianism and sexism and sanctioned evil. It’s been weaponized for millennia, its poetry, practicality, and insight hijacked and perverted for the sake of power.

But I’m not talking about any of that.

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Regarding present-day politicians, in addition to Senator/Reverend Raphael Warnock (Baptist), and not-to-be-underestimated Pete Buttigieg (Episcopalian), I think Bernie Sanders (Jewish) exudes spiritual genuineness (adroitly expressed here) without baggage-heavy religiosity. That is one aspect of his popularity. Whether it would have helped elect him in 2016 we will never know. In light of all that’s transpired since, I am surprised when anyone expresses certainty he would’ve lost. (I, for one, will never forget all that certainty that Trump had no chance.)

And Biden? As with Obama and the Clintons, when he spoke of his faith (Catholicism), I didn’t buy it. He did garner more votes than anyone in history, though. (81.3 million). But clearly, times have radically changed in a few short years, and the Dems need to change. I’m not convinced they should “play dirty” like the MAGA crowd.

In 2025, as Trump returns to the Oval Office with 75 million votes, all bets are off. Who’s to say an authentically spiritual Democrat couldn’t tip the scales in ‘28? Is that equally as insane and unlikely as a convicted felon, rapist, sexist, racist, promoter of violence, and fascist being Commander-in-Chief? It’s clear Dems could be better at effectively combating all of the above. Why not try pulpit-style calling out?

If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.

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Consider if you will two recent significant events: Jimmy Carter’s memorial service/funeral, and especially Washington D.C. Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde’s audacious, direct appeal to Trump to have mercy on immigrants, trans people, and the LGBTQ community, spoken from the pulpit of the Washington National Cathedral on January 21st, and broadcast on national television. At this writing, the riveting episode is still reverberating, even as the president and his minions predictably, and impotently, try to malign her.

While the tech broligarchy, pundits, and some (but not all) governments capitulate to Trump’s increasingly aggressive fascism, Bishop Budde taps into her spiritual authority not only to implore him to act as Jesus would (as anyone with empathy would), she is calling him out in the most public way. Her voice is steady, her gaze direct, her words resonant. And to be clear, she’s not just “making a plea for mercy.” She is artfully articulating what tens of millions are feeling: horror at this man, arguably the most powerful man in the world. Trump and his VP’s discomfort (and his daughter Tiffany’s delight) is evident. They are contemptuous, but they certainly do not look strong in their contempt.

After the service, Trump demanded an apology. Bishop Budde evenly replied she needn’t apologize for a request for mercy. She’s not afraid. As news outlets host her, asking her to expound on her sermon, her message remains clear, her poise unfazed. As a person of faith, she’s doing her job. That faith is the source of her power, her courage.

The Trump administration will surely endeavor to prevent another such confrontation going forward. Nevertheless, my hope is for Bishop Budde’s actions to inspire others to calmly, but powerfully, nonviolently, and most important, repeatedly counter Trump’s venality and bullshit with the light of truth. By itself, the bishop’s sermon won’t fix anything, but it could very well be a seed. Courage is contagious.

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Lastly, the send-off of centenarian President James Earl Carter was a bracing reminder of what a great man’s life looks like. Eleven days before Trump’s inauguration, speech after speech in Carter’s honor powerfully conveyed how this devout Christian (Baptist) was also quite a badass. Awarded a Nobel Peace Prize for mediating the peace agreement between Egypt and Israel, advancing human rights, and resolving conflicts, this humble, compassionate “Pawpaw,” a Navy hero and nuclear engineer, also effectively eradicated a lethal and horrific parasite – the Guinea worm. (Google it if you dare.) In the mid-80s, there were about 3.5 million annual cases across 21 countries in Africa and Asia. Today, Guinea worm disease is gone. The Carter Center’s efforts resulted in one of the most successful disease eradications in human history.

Carter made no bones about his faith being the engine that drove him, not just in his presidency, during which he installed solar panels on the White House (removed by his successor), but throughout his entire life. Of course I know he was a one termer whose tenure as Commander-in Chief began with a lot of fanfare, a decisive electoral victory, but ended badly - a recession, the Iran hostage crisis, which he was unable to resolve, and a sound defeat by Reagan. Nevertheless, my point is: a genuinely spiritual man was decisively elected. He was the last true person of faith to hold the job. In the wake of the Watergate scandal and the catastrophe of Vietnam, that true blue faith was a feature, not a bug.

I understand how a pessimist and/or a cynic could view Carter’s passing as the end of an era when a certain type of person – a spiritual person – could be President of the United States. Perhaps that is true. But on this side of the looking glass, I for one cannot help but wager it could happen again. Now more than ever.