No Kings

It's been almost four months since my last blog post. In that, I grieved the direction our nation was taking and asked:

What is the future of our nation, the democracy heralded on that 4th of July 249 years ago?

What is my own calling in this strange, sad time? 

In the days since then I've been busier than ever with the work of Fair Districts PA.  I had already begun to plan a road trip to Erie PA to speak at the Jefferson Educational Society about redistricting reform. That trip expanded into ten days of travel, speaking in multiple counties along the way, marching in the Grange Fair Parade in rural Centre County, meeting with volunteers in homes, restaurants and coffee shots, talking with reporters, meeting with several legislators in their district offices. I stayed in volunteers' homes, and with a friend from college days, and managed to find time to swim in three new lakes along the way. 

While planning for that trip, i also found myself in the middle of alarm caused by President Donald Trump's instructions to Texas Governor Abbottt to "find five additional Republican seats" by redistricting Texas before the 2026 election. His public insistence on a Republican gerrymandered caused a ripple effect of compliance and resistance in states across the country. Since then I've found myself talking to reporters about how this impacts Pennsylvania, and drafting Fair Districts PA responses, including this webpost.

I've also been working overtime to address misinformation about the Pennsylvania Supreme Court's involvement in PA redistricting. Three PA Supreme Court justices are on the ballot for a retention vote on November 4. Those votes are intended as a chance to remove justices who are incompetent or corrupt, but huge amounts of partisan money are now being spent accusing those justices of overly partisan, even illegal actions. It hurts my heart to see how personal, partisan and deliberately deceptive much of that messaging has been. I've helped draft webposts talked with reporters , and participated in media interviews. 

In the midst of that activity, I found myself praying about the No Kings protest taking shape across the country. I was surprised to learn that the national League of Women Voters had become an official partner, posting guidance to League members and local Leagues: 

The League has consistently and boldly spoken up in the face of rising authoritarianism. This is an opportunity to put words into action and show up in defense of democracy and as an effective ally. 

League members are encouraged to participate locally in actions with partners on the ground in a nonpartisan manner. 

That meant that Fair Districts PA, as a fiscal project of the League of Women Voters of Pennsylvania, would also be encouraged to participate and promote the protest. I raised the issue at one of our biweekly leadership meetings and found that while many of our team would participate, most weren't comfortable having our organization officially promote or participate. Their concern was that the events would be seen as partisan. We're a non-partisan organization, with a non-partisan goal, and our leadership team holds that value strongly. We agreed that volunteers could speak if invited, could share materials, could wear Fair Districts PA shirts or pins, but wouldn't promote the events. 

So again, I found myself praying about my own involvement. I already had an afternoon gathering to attend, a ribbon-cutting celebration for new offices for Scripture Union, the organization my husband Whitney lead for years and continues to support. Just one local protest was planned for that morning, in Pottstown, a 30 minute drive from my home and from the new offices in Valley Forge. 

What does it mean to say "No Kings"? 

Historically, a king was above the law. In countries that still have constitutional monarchies, that is no longer the case. In all but a small handful of nations, even kings are bound by law. 

My understanding of the No Kings message is that our national leaders must follow the law, and must act within the boundaries of constitutional definitions. A president is the chief administrator of the nation, co-equal with Congress and the US judiciary. Donald Trump has repeatedly flouted the law, and tramples the boundaries of executive function. 

My own short list of egregious examples:

• Withholding USAID money already allocated by Congress, and dismantling USAID entirely, illegally contravening an act of Congress. The result: grave losses for US farmers, and avoidable loss of life in many corners of the globe.
  
  
• Endorsing illegal ICE activity. Whatever one's views about immigrant activity, action by previous presidents, and the benefits or harms from immigrant presence, it's hard to imagine how one would condone the racial profiling, division of families, and unlawful entry of homes and workplaces without warrants. It's also hard to understand justification of use of force by unidentified, masked agents rounding up people of color, even as they insist "I'm a citizen" or are in immigration court following legal channels. 
  
  
• Illegal destruction of boats in international waters, and resultant extra-judicial murder of unidentified individuals. So far, nine boats have been attacked, leaving 43 dead, with no evidence to date that any were involved in illegal drug activity or endangered the US in any way. 

With those and other examples in mind, I went to the Pottstown No Kings rally, with a Fair Districts PA sign and a bag full of cards to share, some about redistricting, some about the PA judicial retention vote. I handed out over 100 of each, and talked at least briefly to scores of protestors. 

Some were veterans. Some were pastors. Some were in high school, others in college. Some had signs identifying themselves as Republicans. 

Most, when I mentioned judicial retention, said "VOTE YES!!!" energetically. A few asked for more explanation, and said they'd been confused by mailers they'd seen. 

Most of the signs I saw were handmade The few printed signs I saw said "Vote Yes! Retain our judges." 

The Pottstown organizer was new to organizing, not part of any other group, and had signed up with 50501, a new protest movement dedicated to upholding the US Constitution and preventing executive overreach. I've since talked with organizers involved in other No Kings events. One is a few years out of college, new to politics, new to organizing, worried about our country. One is a retired pastor, grieving that others who claim the same faith shrug at abuse of Christian refugees fleeing persecution in other nations. 

Many of my friends, and many from my church, attended the afternoon No Kings protest in West Chester, closer to my home. A reporter at that event captured the kinds of comments I heard in my own No Kings attendance:

Immigrant rights organizer Brittany told the crowd that they were not just there to protest, but to resist. “ICE does not keep us safe. . . Safety is found in community, not in cages. ICE doesn’t belong in a democracy, (or) in a just community.”

The Rev. Josh Gill, of Central Presbyterian Church of Downingtown, spoke about Carlos Della Valle, an immigrant who has been detained, who he wants to bring home to West Chester. . . He said that his Bible tells him to welcome the immigrant and to treat him like our own...

The Rev. Josh Gill, of Central Presbyterian Church of Downingtown, spoke about Carlos Della Valle, an immigrant who has been detained, who he wants to bring home to West Chester. . . He said that his Bible tells him to welcome the immigrant and to treat him like our own...

A junior in high school spoke and asked to give a voice to those who don’t have a voice.“Not doing anything is not an option,” she said. “Silence is violence.”

Wife and husband, Lucy and John Brakall, came from Pennsbury. “Trump is destroying our Constitution,” Lucy said. “He is breaking all the norms and rules of our country. . . . Her husband explained “I am obligated to protest against the injustice of the Trump administration."

No Kings protests are about protection of the norms of democracy, and protection of all who are harmed by unjust or illegal actions.

Both Old and New Testament provide repeated instruction to speak and act on behalf of the poor and oppressed, and to treat our neighbors as ourselves. Here are few listed on this World Vision Advocacy page

• Deuteronomy 27:19 Cursed is anyone who withholds justice from the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow.
• Psalm 82:3-4 Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.
  
• Proverbs 14:21 It is a sin to despise one’s neighbor, but blessed is the one who is kind to the needy.
  
• Proverbs 31:8-9 Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy. 
  
• Jeremiah 22:3 This is what the Lord says: Do what is just and right. Rescue from the hand of the oppressor the one who has been robbed. Do no wrong or violence to the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place.
  
• 1 John 3:17 If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person?

As that advocacy page reminds us: "The Bible’s call to speak up for justice doesn’t come with an expiration date." 

That call also doesn't provide qualifiers: Love the neighbors who think like us. Protect the strangers who are here legally. Be kind to those who deserve it.

God's love and care extends beyond party affiliation, legal status, or ability to earn or pay our way. Jesus's parable of the Good Samaritan makes clear his followers will do the same. 

On November 4, PA voters have a chance to vote "YES" for PA Supreme Court justices who have done their best to provide fair maps and protect our rights when other entities have failed to do so. (Check PA Bar Association judicial ratings here.)

That same day, voters across the country have will vote on various levels for candidates who speak out for the rule of law and the rights of the poor and oppressed, or for those who will look away as the rule of law erodes, and hungry families suffer. 

Every day, there are things we can do, sometimes small, sometimes large, to insist that no one, no matter how powerful, is above the law, and no one, no matter how poor or weak, is outside God's love and care. 

One sign at the Pottsville No Kings event caught my eye, although I didn't have a chance to take a photo. It was attached to a cross, and said "No King but Jesus."

May the love of Jesus shape our politics, our protests, and our interaction with neighbors near and far. 

Photo by Evan Halfen, StateCollege.com

Talking Together on the Freedom Road

Here's a gift I want to share this Independence Day: Freedom Road.

It's an organization, website, podcast, consulting group, all led by Lisa Sharon Harper, a native of Cape May, a resident of Philadelphia, and a gifted host and storyteller.

I'm not sure why I hadn't seen info on Freedom Road before. I stumbled over it earlier this week while looking for more information about Rich Logis and his own young organization, Leaving Maga. 

There are plenty of interviews with Logis available online, but the Freedom Road podcast caught my eye when I saw the episode just after it: an interview with Dr. Reverend Charles Latimore Howard, chaplain and VP of Social Equity and Community at the University of Pennsylvania and long-time family friend. 

I've since listened to both podcasts and am struck by how much we need rich conversations and shared stories about love, compassion, community, belonging and purpose. 

Finding Freedom Road was a great culmination to my month of June, and a good reminder this Fourth of July. 

I spent June in lots of conversations with a wild mix of friends: a few days with friends from the first church Whitney and I joined together, then a weekend at the League of Women Voters of Pennsylvania Convention, with women I've known since I first got involved, back in 2013, and others I've met in the intervening years. Then a three day family gathering with four generations of Kuniholms (ages under 1 to 96), then a reunion with folks on Sandy Cove Girls' Camp staff from the 1970s.

All along the way there were questions and stories about who we were, who we are now, where we're heading, how we'll get there. I found myself so thankful for the women who showed me ways to be in the world beyond the narrow boxes my childhood churches modeled. I found myself grieving the pain of many whose stories led them down difficult paths, and celebrating their strength and resilience as they've leaned into prayer, faith, forgiveness and growth. Together we've wrestled with difficult questions, and wondered what it means to be a faithful witness, an agent of change. Through it all we've told our stories, of doubt, fear, courage, growth. We've shared what we've learned.

Through my month of reunions and conversation, I knew some voices were missing. Some because they died too soon. Some because they've turned away - in anger, or fear. Some because they never felt safe to join the circles where our conversations happened. 

Harper's goal in Freedom Road is to "bridge the narrative gap," to invite stories we rarely hear about where we are and how we got here, and to imagine together how we can move closer to the Biblical vision of shalom. 

Harper has done some of that work in her books, including The Very Good Gospel, Evangelical Peacemakers, Evangelical Does Not Equal Republican or Democrat, and most recently a multi-generational story of her own family: Fortune: How Race Broke My Family and the World - and How to Repair It All. (Find info on all here.)

I haven't had time to read them. But I did listen to the two conversations I really needed and would love to talk about with others who take the time to listen. 

Leaving Maga with Rich Logis

Logis grew up in the same part of New York State where I spent my early years, two or three decades behind me. He was nominally Catholic, reasonably well-educated, rarely interested in politics. He supported Ralph Nader in 2000, spent a few years in journalism before starting his own small hardware business, and in 2016, disillusioned with establishment presidential candidates, found himself volunteering for the Trump campaign. Soon he was a devoted MAGA activist, cutting off friends and family who didn't share his views. He started a right-wing podcast (the Rich Logis Show), wrote a book "10 Warning Signs Your Child Is Becoming a Democrat" (never published), appeared on conservative talk shows as a MAGA pundit and started a MAGA superPAC.

He describes all of that in a short ebook online, My MAGA Odyssey, and has talked about it often in talk show interviews and podcasts. 

All that began to change in 2020 and 2021, and by 2022 he had launched the Leaving MAGA website, with a short letter still front and center on the website's home page. 

Here's part of that letter: 

I founded this organization, Leaving MAGA, because I wanted to create a safe, non-judgmental community for those who leave MAGA, as well as for those who are having doubts about, or remorse over, their devotion to Trump and MAGA. 

Our Leaving MAGA community will celebrate how acknowledging mistakes empowers you and America. 

It’s difficult for a democracy to function well when millions are estranged from those closest to them.

You do not deserve to have your anxieties about change exploited. You deserve to know the truth. And with Leaving MAGA, you don’t have to feel you would be alone if you leave the movement.

Leaving MAGA is possible. Recognizing that we were wrong, and acting on that knowledge, makes us all more invested in democracy and in the continued work of perfecting our union.

As I listened to the podcast this week, I was encouraged by Harper's respectful curiosity and Logis's honest, humble answers. I was also impressed by his occasional reframing of questions, a gentle attempt to avoid building walls where bridges may someday be possible. 

I found much in their discussion that might help in some of my own. 

The Rev. Dr. Charles "Chas" Lattimore Howard

The conversation with Rev. Dr. Charles Lattimore Howard (generally known as "Chaz") centered on his latest book: Uncovering Your Path: Spiritual Reflections for Finding Your Purpose. 
I've known Chaz for at least two decades. He's god-father to my granddaughter, close colleague of my son-in-law, and he and his wonderful wife Lia have intersected my path in multiple ways since before the two were married. He is a gentle, thoughtful listener with a deep heart for justice and younger generations. 

That comes through in his conversation with Lisa Sharon Harper. While Harper raises questions about specific chapters of the book, Chaz poses questions of his own as together they consider their personal histories, experience of bias, lessons learned along the way.

Sprinkled through their conversation are Harper's hearty, delightful laugh, Chaz's familiar, thoughtful "hmms", and celebrations of people who pointed a way forward. 

Listening, I found myself celebrating the people in my own life who have asked me good questions, who have held the door open for me and those I love, who have helped me grow toward a larger vision of God. I found myself wondering where more conversation is needed. Where I need to listen better. Where I need to rethink my own biases, values and calling. I confess, this morning, July 4, 2025, I'm grieving, deeply, the final vote on a bill I fear will do great harm.  I'm grieving construction of the new Alligator Alcatraz, a huge migrant detention center in the Everglades, in an area Reuters describes as "a vast subtropical wetland teeming with alligators, crocodiles and pythons."
I'm grieving the official end of USAID, the thousands of lives already lost, the millions of easily preventable deaths to come. 

What is the future of our nation, the democracy heralded on that 4th of July 249 years ago?

What is my own calling in this strange, sad time? 

I'm thankful for Lisa Sharon Harper, for Rich Logis, for Chaz Howard, and for all who, like them, listen well, speak with care, and walk together toward freedom and justice, not just for themselves, but for us all. 

A Declaration of Conscience

On June 1, 1950, a little-known freshman senator from Maine, Margaret Chase
Smith, gave a speech on the Senate floor.

Her Declaration of Conscience was a response to a speech made by fellow Republican Senator Joe McCarthy several months earlier. She didn't name him in the speech, but she spoke out strongly against fear-mongering and baseless accusations. She insisted on what she called "The Basics Principles of Americanism", noting that

Those of us who shout the loudest about Americanism in making character assassinations are all too frequently those who, by our own words and acts, ignore some of the basic principles of Americanism.

• The right to criticize. 
• The right to hold unpopular beliefs. 
• The right to protest. 
• The right of independent thought. 

The exercise of these rights should not cost one single American citizen his reputation or his right to a livelihood nor should he be in danger of losing his reputation or livelihood merely because he happens to know someone who holds unpopular beliefs. Who of us does not? Otherwise none of us could call our souls our own. Otherwise thought control would have set in. 

After describing Democratic failures in leadership, she objected to Republican responses:

I do not want to see the Republican party ride to political victory on the Four Horsemen of Calumny- Fear, Ignorance, Bigotry, and Smear. . . . I  do not believe the American people will uphold any political party that puts political exploitation above national interest. Surely we Republicans are not that desperate for victory.

I do not want to see the Republican party win that way. While it might be a fleeting victory for the Republican party, it would be a more lasting defeat for the American people. Surely it would ultimately be suicide for the Republican party and the two-party system that has protected our American liberties from the dictatorship of a one-party system. . . .
As an American, I want to see our nation recapture the strength and unity it once had when we fought the enemy instead of ourselves. It is with these thoughts that I have drafted what I call a Declaration of Conscience. 

The Declaration was cosigned by six other Republican senators.  Among the five points of the Declaration, the first and last speak directly to today:

1. We are Republicans. But we are Americans first. It is as Americans that we express our concern with the growing confusion that threatens the security and stability of our country. Democrats and Republicans alike have contributed to that confusion.

5. It is high time that we stopped thinking politically as Republicans and Democrats about elections and started thinking patriotically as Americans about national security based on individual freedom. It is high time that we all stopped being tools and victims of totalitarian techniques-techniques that, if continued here unchecked, will surely end what we have come to cherish as the American way of life.  

Despite Smith's appeal to fellow senators, for the next few years McCarthy's power and influence grew. In 1954 he became chair of the Senate Committee on Government Operations and the subcommittee on investigations.

By May of that year he had pushed too far, and opinion began to shift. He was formally censured by the Senate, by a vote of 67-22, in December 1954, and widely ridiculed in the press. He died of chronic hepatitis and cirrhossis of the liver in 1957, at the age of 48, before finishing his second term in office. 

Margaret Chase Smith continued in the Senate until 1972 and was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by President H. W. Bush in 1989. She died in 1995 at the age of 97.

This year on April 29, 75 years after Smith's Declaration of Conscience, Senator Angus King, also from Maine, delivered his own Declaration of Conscience on the Senate floor. King summarized Smith's 1950 speech, then said 

I fear that we are at a similar moment in history. And while today’s ‘serious national condition’ is not involving the actions of one of our colleagues, it is involving those of the President of the United States.

Echoing Senator Smith, today’s crisis should not be viewed as a partisan issue; this is not about Democrats or Republicans, or immigration or tax policy, or even the next set of elections; today’s crisis threatens the idea of America and the system of government that has sustained us for more than two centuries. . . . 

It’s important to emphasize that the danger I am describing isn’t based upon institutional jealousy, a loss of the prerogatives of the Senate, or the politics of Democrats and Republicans; it’s about the violation of the very deliberate division of power between the legislature and the executive which as I said is the heart of the Constitution. It’s there for a reason to see that power is not concentrated in one set of hands. It is the most important bulwark between our citizens and—let’s call it what it is—tyranny.

Senator King went on to explain the threat, clear at the end of April, even more clear now: 

To those who like the policies of the President and are therefore willing to ignore the unconstitutional means of effectuating them, I (and history) can only say, watch out:

Today, the target may be the undocumented or federal workers, but tomorrow (perhaps under a different King-President), it could be you.

Once this power is concentrated into one set of hands, it’s going to be very difficult to get it back and it can turn that power against anybody who displeases the monarch. So what can we do? What are the guardrails and how can we buttress and support them?

The first guardrail is the Congress itself, the part of our government actually empowered to define policy, appropriate funds, and oversee the actions of the executive. But unfortunately, the majority in Congress has thus far wholly abdicated these fundamental responsibilities and, thus far, has shown little inclination to even recognize the danger, let alone take action to confront it.

We could reclaim our power, however, by pulling back the trade authority (there’s a bill to do that), instituting vigorous oversight of the activities of DOGE to determine to what extent their actions compromise congressional intent, or holding the President’s nominees and his prized tax bill until he ceases his attempts to make policy unilaterally, including impounding congressionally authorized and appropriated funds. 

You know, do our job.

As citizens, we can do OUR job by demanding the Senate do theirs. 

Consider sending links or quotes from Smith's and King's speeches to your own US Senators. Quote or paraphrase King's summmary of ways to reclaim Senate power.

Here's a helpful spreadsheet I discovered for Congressional contacts.

Read more on this:

Dale Oak, Bulwark, May 29,2025: Remembering an Act of Courage and Conscience

Heather Cox Richardson, Substack, May 31, 2025: Letters from an American.

Lorraine Boissoneault, Smithsonian Magazine, 2018: The Senator Who Stood Up to Josephy McCarthy When No One Else Would

A Mothers' Day Prayer for Immigrant Mothers

I've been thinking lately about immigrants in my life: their resourcefulness, their love of family, the loss they carry with them.

I don't know what to do with the frustration, sadness and anger I feel when I see reports of separated families, immigrants pulled from their homes, children suddenly parentless without warning or plan of care in place. 

What would you do it you saw a gang of masked men grab someone from the street, without explaining why, without showing ID, threatening anyone who intervened? In Worcester, Massachusetts last week, a crowd attempted to intervene. The case involved a mother, her teen daughter, her teen daughter's baby. 

Who decides who to grab without warrant? What legal protections exist when unidentified agents can wrestle people into vans or cars without explanation? 

The attorney for Tufts University student Rumeysa Ozturk, arrested on March 25, "encouraged Americans to watch the video of her client being detained by masked, plainclothes people who bundled her into an unmarked car.

As you can see in the video, DHS agents grabbed at her clothes, her hands, and her backpack before detaining her and taking her to an unknown location, in an unmarked car," Khanbabai said in a statement. "Nothing in this video indicates that these are law enforcement agents and from which agency. This video should shake everyone to their core.

I stumbled across a short blog post from MIRA, (Massachusetts Immigration and Refuge Association) A Letter To Our Immigrant Mothers – by Farah Jeune:

This Mother’s Day we’re thinking about all the immigrant mothers: The immigrant mothers who made the brave decision to start new chapters in a foreign environment. The immigrant mothers who nurture and guide their children through the challenging transitions of assimilating in America. The immigrant mothers who aren’t afraid to talk with their thick accents. The immigrant mothers who made sure their children knew where they came from and the richness of their culture. The immigrant mothers who work several jobs. The immigrant mothers who still mother their children, even past the age of 18.

This Mother's Day I'm thinking about, and thankful, for the immigrant mothers who have helped shape my life and faith.

One, Mrs. Warrick, was the first Sunday School teacher I remember. She and her husband had strong German accents. They shepherded our small group of pre-teen girls, hosted us for breakfast on Easter mornings, spoke softly about their faith. And never explained how they came to New York, in mid-adulthood, with those strong German accents. 

Another immigrant mother from my childhood church was Mrs. Alejandro, an Argentinian with not much English and a strong accent. Her daughter Violet was my older sister Rachel's friend. Some weekends Rachel and I were invited to the Alejandros', where Rachel and Violet huddled in Rachel's bedroom, talking, while Mrs. A and I cooked empanadas in their little kitchen. Ever since, empanadas have been a comfort food for me. 

Years later, I spent time with Tran, who helped lead camping trips with our daughters' Junior Girl Scout troop. Tran was Vietnamese, left Saigon as it fell to North Vietnamese forces in 1975, spent several years in a refugee camp. Once our campers were quiet in their tents, she told me stories as we sat by the dying campfire. In the dark, I could hear the pain of memory in her voice. 

There was another mother in those years of young children, whose name I never mastered and can no longer find. She was from a Muslim country that had splintered with ethnic unrest. When her family's small storefront business was smashed, she and her young husband gathered their two tiny girls and started walking. Her story was one of disruption, repeated ethnic violence, multiple refugee camps. 

And then, miraculously, they were given asylum in the US, and found themselves with work, and housing, and help. I met her when her oldest daughter was placed in my youngest daughter's fourth grade class. I invited her and her daughters for tea after school, but she was uneasy about being in someone else's home, so invited me to hers instead. 

Some conversations linger. That afternoon in her home is one of those. She told me her story: the difficult decisions, the dangers, the losses, the new starts, the abrupt ends. It all poured out, in a heavy accent and long pauses while she searched for words. At the end, she said

Those were all Muslim countries. They hated me because of my ethnicity. Even though we say we believe the same things. They would have killed me if they could. But now here we are in a Christian county. And we are treated with kindness. We are helped to find a home. We are helped to find work and all we need. Teachers welcome my daughters. I don't understand it but I want to know more. 

Just yesterday I saw two immigrant mothers who are part of a small group I've been meeting with for years to pray. They have strong ties to their families in their countries of origin. They've made sacrifices to be here so their daughters have more opportunity. They are women of hard work and strong faith. One, in her limited free time, helps manage a large community food pantry. I pray for them and their families. I know they pray for me. 

In the current deportation frenzy, any of those mothers could be picked up without warrant, held without bail, deported without a hearing. According to a recent Intelligencer article, 

It’s not a matter of if U.S. citizens are getting caught up in President Donald Trump’s immigration crackdown and mass-deportation efforts but rather how and how many. 

On this beautiful May Mother's Day, I'm thankful for much. Yet I'm also thinking of immigrant mothers. Wondering what I can do. And wondering what it means to our Christian witness when so many among us are celebrating harsh treatment of immigrants and refugees while others are fearful and grieving.

My Mother's Day prayer: meaningful, just immigration reform, a pause on hurried, harmful deportation, and open hearts toward strangers God has placed among us. 

And a Mother's Day confession: I grieve when I see Christian friends post  misinformation about immigrants on social media pages, stir anger and fear about immigrants without checking statistics, and start from a position of loyalty to party rather than faithfulness to God's word.

To quote a Baptist Press First Person Response to Immigration:: 

Think before you speak. Is what you are posting on social media regarding immigration destroying your Christian witness?

More importantly, is what you are doing, saying and posting reflecting the attitudes in your heart? Jesus talked about that too (Matthew 12:34).

Could it be that the reason so many of the world’s people have found their way to the United States is because God knows the only hope they have of hearing the Gospel is from people who claim to know Christ?

For a belated Mother's Day gift (early Father's Day gift?) or further reading on a difficult subject, I recommend this immigration booklist from Hearts and Minds Bookstore. (Sorry - I'm guessing the discount has expired).

 

First-fruits of the Kingdom

Resurrection, Anna Kocher, US, 2006

The resurrection of Jesus sent shock-waves through the established order. It was the first-fruits of a new kingdom: a kingdom of life, not death; love, not hate; justice, not oppression.

A 2014 essay by Anglican theologian N. T. Wright explains:

Jesus’ risen body was the first element in God’s long-promised "new creation." A little bit of God’s new world, coming forward from the ultimate future into our surprised and unready present time. And launching the project of new creation that continues to this day. . . .

Here's the point: Jesus’ resurrection doesn’t mean, "He’s gone to heaven, so we can go there too" (though you might be forgiven for thinking it meant that, granted the many sermons both at funerals and at Easter). It means, "In Jesus, God has launched his plan to remake creation as a whole, and if you are a follower of Jesus you get to be part of that right now." What God did for Jesus, close up and personal, is what he plans to do for the whole world. And the project is already under way.

This has profound implications for daily life, spiritual practice, and public policy. Last week the Political Theology Network shared a short essay by Carmen Joy Imes, associate professor of theology at Biola University: The Politics of Resurrection. 

When I speak of how the resurrection of Jesus is world-remaking, I mean it in the best sense: the reversal of bodily decay, the defeat of exploitative expressions of power, and the restoration of agency to those who have been oppressed.

Imes provides a good summary of "ways the resurrection of Jesus changes everything."

It's for all of us: 

Christ is the “firstfruits” of resurrection. No one plants a pear tree to get just one juicy pear. The first pear is a harbinger of an abundant harvest. Bushels of pears are yet to come. . . 

The hope of Easter applies to us and it is meant to transform the way we relate to one another.The hope of Easter applies to us and it is meant to transform the way we relate to one another.

It's not just about heaven: 

The resurrection of Jesus initiates more than just an internal sense of well-being or a promise of a life after this one. It’s also thoroughly political. The systems of this world wield the sword against all who challenge their rule. When Jesus rose from the dead, every worldly abuse of power was put on notice: rulers who are not aligned with God’s priorities face the certainty of judgment. . . .

The blessings of the LORD’s kingdom are not purely spiritual. They are inherently practical. They transform life expectancy and employment practices. The kingdom over which God rules is soaked in Shalom and absent of violence. 

It's not just men:

Theology and proclamation were men’s work: male priests, male scribes, male rabbis, male disciples, male governors, male philosophers. The name of the game became an attempt to protect the status quo. But Jesus wasn’t having it.

When Jesus chooses Mary Magdalene to announce the most important news of human history, he disrupts these social expectations and power dynamics. By sending Mary, Jesus signals a new creation reality that upends assumptions about male power and begins the process of restoring the collaboration between male and female that God has always intended.

Les Saintes femmes au tombeau du Christ,
Irma Martin, 1843 France

The resurrection is political. But it's also personal. For all of us. A decade ago, I wrote a post about the way God speaks to each of us, entering our stories, drawing us one by one: 

Witnesses across continents, across centuries, give thanks for the reality of resurrection, bringing hope where hope seems impossible, freedom from constraints of culture, poverty, illness, evil, oppression, sin.

It’s certainly true for me. In a broken, battered world, I am blessed with hope and joy made possible by the great reversal of resurrection morning.

In the jubilant noise of this Easter Sunday, I am listening, again, for that quiet voice that speaks my name, reminding me of the great value we hold in the eyes of God, reminding me that through Christ’s death and resurrection. . . we are all claimed and called to something far more than simple dying flesh: immortal, priceless, loved. 

We're surrounded this year by political anxiety, economic uncertainty, social unrest. Our churches are divided. Friends we've worshipped with for years have stepped away from church completely, alarmed at a narrowing gospel that no longer seems good news for the poor, the sick, the stranger.

I'm reminded that none of this is new. There have always been religious leaders eager for political power and ready to kill when their will is thwarted. There have always been political leaders with great ambition and no moral compass.

And since that first Easter morning, there have always been those who follow the way of Christ and rejoice in the fullness of his resurrection, at great risk, with great love, with joy that overcomes fear and sorrow. 

May we know that love and joy, and live as first-fruits of the coming kingdom. 

Icon of the Resurrection, Greek Orthodox Church

Other Easter Reflections:

• Is the Resurrection Just a Myth?, April 12, 2015
• Resurrection Sunday: Exuberant Reversal, April 5, 2015
• Saying Yes to the Risen Christ, April 20, 2014
• Where Is Newness Needed? March 31, 2013
• Risen Indeed: the Hermaneutic Community April 8, 2012
• Resurrection, April 25, 2011 

Hands Off Our Neighbors

I am an unaffiliated voter and have been all my life. I watched recaps of the Watergate trials on late night TV my freshman year of college, knowing my Christian elders had voted for Richard Nixon.

I watched Mayor Frank Rizzo's blind eye toward abuse of black Philadelphians during my years of grad school in Philly, knowing most white folks in churches around me  supported him because he said he'd keep them safe. 

When my husband Whitney worked with Prison Fellowship, founded by Chuck Colson, Nixon's hatchet man, we spent time with people from both parties who had served time for illegal partisan political actions. 

While I know there are often good reasons for choosing one party over another, I've also seen the harm of blind loyalty, and the danger of throwing support too fervently in one direction. 

George Washington apparently felt something similar. His 1796 Farewell Address explained why he chose not to seek a third term, then warned against "the dangers of parties" and "geographical discriminations."  He said:

Let me . . . warn you in the most solemn manner against the baneful effects of the spirt of party. . . . The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension. . . is itself a frightful depotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. The disorders and miseries, which result, gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction . . . turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation, on the ruins of Public Liberty. 

I lead a non-partisan grassroots organization working to change Pennsylvania's redistricting process. I've seen how the "spirit of party" Washington warned against can lead to bending the rules to keep one's own party in power. Even when it undermines democracy. Even when it damages confidence in government, wrecks public policy, and yields that ugly spirit of revenge between legislative colleagues. 

Our all-volunteer Fair Districts PA team is composed of Rs, Ds, and some, like me, unaffiliated voters. Some are registered with a party solely so they can vote in PA's closed primaries. Some have shifted parties over the years due to changing party platforms or their own changing priorities. ALL are tired of the way our political structures encourage partisan games instead of common sense solutions. 

One of our mottos, repeated often: Not Red, Not Blue, Just Fair. 

Our nation needs deep foundational change. But we also need moral courage and a willingness to set party aside and stand up for what we know is right. 

In the past few months I've watched people I once admired contradict themselves rather than acknowledge or counter their party leader's endless lies. 

I've watched people who claim to love their neighbors stand silent as neighbors born in other countries are deported without due process or legal rationale. 

I've heard people who give generously to Christian aide agencies repeat lies about fraud in those same agencies. 

I've seen legislators who once worked in national defense pretend dangerous security breaches are not worth noting. 

All of that was on my mind in deciding this week to join a Hands Off rally in West Chester, our county seat, just minutes from my home.

My participation wasn't a statement of support for Democrats. 

It wasn't a repudiation of Republicans.

My goal was to stand on behalf of my neighbors:

• Immigrants targeted unjustly.
• Disabled children whose protections will vanish as the Department of Education is unraveled. 
• All those hungry, sick, impoverished people impacted by the loss of USAID.
• Health researchers whose projects have been cut abruptly, leaving sick people in confusion and undermining years of work. 
• Thousands and thousands of government workers suddenly fired without notice, explanation, or plan to carry on important work they've been doing. 

In making a sign to carry in the protest, I realized there's far too much at stake to ever put on one small sign. But I did make my sign.

I did go and stand with others to say "Hands off our democracy, our neighbors, the protections enacted by Congress over decades of debate."

At the protest I met people from my church.
Conservatives I've known for years.
A parent who sent her children to the local Christian private school. 
People I know - for sure - voted Republican in every election until they voted against Donald Trump. 
For many, it was the first protest event they've ever attended. 

We are all wrestling with the question: what does it mean to love my neighbor?

We are struggling with the command to walk justly in a tragically unjust time. 

In my church, we pray weekly:

Most merciful God,
we confess that we have sinned against you
in thought, word, and deed,
by what we have done,
and by what we have left undone.
We have not loved you with our whole heart;
we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.
We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.
For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,
have mercy on us and forgive us;
that we may delight in your will,
and walk in your ways,
to the glory of your Name.
Amen. 

I will never fully do what I should do. There will always be work left undone. 

I will never love God as fully as I should, and will never fully love my neighbor as myself.

But today I took a step to do that, against a frightful depotism that is already costing lives, sowing chaos, harming communities, and dragging us ever closer to the ruins of public liberty.

I found myself surrounded by people doing the same: trying their best to love their neighbor. I was thankful to be there. Thankful for the hundreds of thousands, at over 1200 events nationwide, who showed up to say "Hands off my neighbor." 
 
My goal, in politics as in every aspect part of my life, is to walk in God's ways, for His glory and our good. 

Attending that rally was part of that. 

I'll be watching for the next occasion. 

• ABC: Huge crowds gather in Hands Off rallies nationwide
• NPR: Nationwide protest rallies erupt against Trump and Musk
• NPR: Photos/ See demonstrators around the country rally
  
  

Just a few notes in response to critiques I've seen of the hundreds of Hands Off rallies:

Despite right-wing accusations, there's no evidence anywhere that participants were paid to attend. There were no massed produced signs, no central distribution of any kind. If there were buses, they were paid for by the folks who attended, or in some cases, by continuing care communities whose residents wanted transportation. My 80 something uncle from Washington State was part of a community that sent several buses to the Olympia. Some, like my uncle, went with walkers. None were paid protestors. 

In all reporting I've seen so far, there was no hint of violence except for one incident where someone offended by protestors brought an automatic gun to threaten them. He was arrested, then released. 

Despite some headlines highlighting "angry protestors," my experience of the event I attended was that attendees were thoughtful, friendly, determined, ready to do what they can to make sure our democracy works for us all. I saw nothing I'd call hateful, little that looked angry. 

Observors noted that the overall demographic seemed to skew older and white. I saw a handful of young attendees, including some college students I know, and a few children and teens. That seems at least in part reflective of the current political climate. When black and brown people are being arrested without warrants or probably cause, when immigrants who have lived here for decades are deported without due process, when college students fear expulsion for speaking out against the administration, public protests no longer feel safe for many. 

Even so, it seem likely that the April 5 Hands Off protest will be remembered as the largest multi-site simultaneous protest event in history, at over 1200 sites with over 400,000 registered, and many more unregistered attendees. For most who attended, the event was just the start of citizen efforts to protect democracy and neighbors threatened by unjust actions.