On Tuesday morning, President Donald Trump, Vice President JD Vance, and their families attended the traditional prayer service at Washington National Cathedral. I watched the service, expecting it to be mild, deferential and non-controversial. After all, that seems to be the pattern with Trump’s second term; fear has stopped so many from criticizing even his most egregious statements and plans.
But Episcopal Bishop Mariann Budde took her moment in the spotlight to speak from her heart, directly to the president. She begged him to show compassion for the marginalized people he now has the power to destroy: undocumented immigrants, and members of the LGBTQ+ and trans communities. Speaking from the pulpit of a great edifice dedicated to God, she found her voice and used it to echo the words and teachings of Jesus.
I served a Philadelphia area Lutheran church for 20 years as its spiritual formation director. Four of those years took place during Trump’s first term. I was appalled at the president’s lies and cruelty and began to write about my feelings. But members of the church leadership at the time cautioned me not to speak out — there were Trump supporters in the pews, and it was best not to rock the boat. Instead of standing firm, I stopped writing and speaking on the subject. In the interest of sparing the feelings of church members, many of whom were friends, I neglected to consider the feelings of those being demonized and put in danger.
During the 2024 campaign, I foolishly assumed that a message of joyful inclusion would win the day. I relaxed a bit; I would not have to put myself on the line after all, and everything would be OK. As Trump’s pronouncements and promises grew bolder and more alarming, I prayed that common decency would prevail in November. Surely Trump had shown the country his true colors, and the electorate would realize that he had no intention of bettering anyone’s life — except his own. Even as I watched many religious leaders line up to support him, I didn’t lose hope. Meanwhile, I let others criticize him, safe from putting myself at any risk.
Kamala Harris’s defeat was deeply upsetting. My love for my country is predicated on a core belief that we are caring and good people — a nation of immigrants that welcomes the stranger, feeds the poor, and cares for the least among us. I had retired from church by then, but had still not spoken up, out of a combination of cowardice and complacency — and the naïve supposition that the worst would not happen.
Watching Bishop Budde on Tuesday, I recalled Christ’s challenging words in the Gospels. I had spent so many years writing and speaking to my congregation about those words. I had taught a generation of children about the call to be God’s loving hands and feet in the world. Why was I cowering in the face of cruelty and injustice? Who was the hypocrite now?
In the Old Testament, Queen Esther is told of a plot to kill the Jewish people in her kingdom. The queen is herself a Jew, and has hidden that fact from the king. Her adviser Mordecai encourages her to speak out and save her people, telling her that perhaps she was born for such a time as this. Esther rises to the occasion, and the Jewish people are spared.
Scripture tells me, quite clearly, that having faith means taking action when others are being harmed. Faith demands we use our voices to advocate for all of our brothers and sisters, no matter the risk to ourselves. Faith and courage should go hand in hand.
It is not lost on me that Inauguration Day was also MLK Jr. Day. Dr. King also lived in troubled and turbulent times. As he spoke out for civil and human rights, he was often in great personal danger, imprisoned and, eventually, killed. Difficult as his road was, I believe that King was, indeed, born for his time.
The world today is still a deeply divided place, and it is very tempting to keep quiet and keep my peace. But maybe I too was born for such a time as this. Maybe it is my duty, as a person of faith and as a decent human being, to rise to the occasion. To add my small voice to the chorus that is crying out against injustice.
I am sorry it has taken me this long, but at last I am ready. With Bishop Budde, and other brave and good people, including many pastors and congregants in my own denomination (the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America), I ask our nation’s new leaders to consider the suffering they plan to inflict. I ask them to have a change of heart, and to help save the heart of the world. I believe I was born to be here, right now. I can respond to the great challenges of our time with fear, or with courage. I am making my choice.
