What Guides Your Vote?

Our scriptures in church this morning centered on the great commandment: love your neighbor as yourself. That command shows up first in Leviticus 19:18: "you shall love your neighbor as yourself." It was repeated by Jesus in three of the Gospel accounts (Matthew 22: 37-39; Mark 12: 29-31; Luke 10:27). James refered to the command as "the royal law," (James 2:8). Paul wrote "the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Gal 5:14).

I've always believed that love for my neighbor, as described by scripture, must shape my words, my actions, my work, my choices. I fall short, often, even daily, but that's the standard I refer to. 

Who is my neighbor? 

If you're a member of the Church of the Good Samaritan, as I am, you know how unmoved Jesus was by the smarmy attempt to find a narrow legal answer. Jesus is not amused. When asked "Who is my neighbor?" he contrasts the self-protective actions of priest and Levite with the courageous compassion of the Good Samaritan. The Samaritan, an outsider, risked his own safety, his own comfort, and his own finances, to care for a man injured by robbers and left on the road to die.

When Jesus asked the expert in the law "Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” the obvious answer: “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus said "Go and do likewise." 

The Good Samaritan is the standard Jesus offers for living out the great commandment. 

I've been thinking about that as I pray about our current election. 

On social media this morning I saw a story I had missed. 

Lorenzo Salgado Araujo was on his way to a construction site in Houston with crew members when ICE agents stopped him, then shot him in the stomach. He died within minutes. It took days for his family to retrieve his body from the morgue, months before the shooter was identified. 

There has been no trial, no discipline of the agent who shot him without warning. No further information from ICE or the Department of Justice. 

This week near the corner where the incident took place, Texas early-voters have been stopping at a painted plywood memorial to leave I Voted stickers. Some say they have never voted before. Some grieve their past votes and say every vote going forward will be in memory of this illegal death. Some kneel, pray, then add a message before attaching their I voted stickers.

Social media is full of videos, messages, prayers, and promises to pursue justice, for Lorenzo and for the others who have died in confrontations with ICE or in ICE detention centers. 

But his story is one of too many. Just a few days later, on July 13, Johan Sebastián Durán Guerrero was shot and killed on his way to work in Biddeford, Maine, the first of 3 who died in ICE incidents in just 24 hours.

The National Immigration Project,  Mourning Those Who Have Died in ICE Custody,laments that "as of October 19, 2026, at least 29 people have reportedly died in ICE custody this year."

As of October 12, according to the CBS News ICE Shooting Tracker, "federal immigration agents have killed nine and injured 13 others in at least 30 shootings during the second Trump administration."
Four of those killed were US citizens.

What guides your vote?

Stats say many will be voting on affordability issues, angry at rising gas prices, alarmed at soaring grocery prices. 

Some will be voting in protest of a an ill-considered war that has plunged our country deeper into debt and disrupted the global economy. 

Some will be voting in the wild hope that it's not too late to salvage environmental and regulatory protections we've taken for granted, or to keep national treasures from further harm. 

This week, Neil Bush, George W. Bush's brother, posted his reasons for his vote in a Facebook post that has caught national attention.

I've not blogged much in the past few years, in part because I've been busy with other things, in part because I don't want to be divisive. But I was struck this morning by another verse in that passage of Leviticus 19. Verse 17 says "Rebuke your neighbor frankly so you will not share in their guilt." 

I don't read Hebrew, and I'm not a theologian, but as I heard and read that verse today, I felt sharply the weight of guilt I share with my Christian neighbors. White Evangelical Christians were the largest voting block to put Donald Trump in power and are still the largest voting block to endorse his harmful policies. That means too many have ignored or excused his verbal attacks on women, immigrants, the poor. And too many still shrug or look away as our country breaks treaties, flaunts international laws and cozies up to tyrants and despots. 

As a Christian, I grieve the harm done to our Christian witness. People I know and love, people I've worshipped with, prayed with, read scripture with, brought us to this historical moment, when the warning signs were clear and the lack of love was obvious, even central, in previous elections. 

That reality has led others I know and love, friends, family, colleagues, to leave churches in disgust, appalled that loyalty to a party and person has so far outweighed love for our neighbors.

Do I share in that guilt? Did I not do speak frankly enough?

Did I look the other way to keep the peace and avoid divisive confrontations?

I wish I lived near Houston. I'd vote, then take my "I voted" sticker and put it on that plywood memorial. And kneel and pray  - for our nation, our leaders, the outcome of the election. 

Here, in Pennsylvania, I'll vote for those on my ballot willing to stand for the rule of law, hold lawless leaders accountable, and do all they can to protect the weak, the poor, the stranger. 

That's what it means to love my neighbor. 

Not sure who is on your ballot?

Check Vote411.org for a sample ballot, non-partisan voters' guide, links to candidates' campaign pages and information on drop box and poll locations. 

Risen Indeed

The Three Marys at the Tomb, 
William-Adolphe Bouguereau, 1890, France
 

The refrain of Christians across the globe, across the centuries, on Easter morning:

        "The Lord is risen." "He is risen indeed."

What does it mean? How do we explain it?

I haven't had much time to write lately, still deep in the work of Fair Districts PA, but spent time this weekend reminding myself of what matters most, what's most true, what will remain long after our current work is done. 

It's interesting to read back over posts I've written. Feel free to browse or linger:

A series on resurrection: 2012

• Risen Indeed: The Hermaneutic Community 
• The Great Reversal: A Resurrection People 
• Earth Day Shalom: Ripples of Resurrection  
• Resurrection Challenge: Feed My Sheep
• Resurrection Laughter
• Resurrection Women
  

Where Is Newness Needed? March 13, 2013
Saying Yes to the Risen Christ, April 20, 2014
Resurrection Sunday: Exuberant Reversal, April 5, 2015
Is the Resurrection Just a Myth?, April 12, 2015

Resurrection, the Great Reversal, April 1, 2018
First-fruits of the Kingdom, April 20, 2025
Risen: April 4, 2021: thoughts on death and resurrection during the days of Covid

Reading back over those earlier posts, I'm struck by the very first I wrote, one of the most personal. 

• If Only, Apr 10, 2011
  
  
  Jesus, there in the dusty road in Bethany, weeping with his friends, says “I AM resurrection.” Not will be. Not someday soon. Now. Today. Roll the stone away. Take off the grave clothes.
  
  
  N. T. Wright, in The Resurrection of the Son of God, says “When Jesus says ‘I am the resurrection and the life,’ he opens up several layers of redefinition: a new life through which new possibilities are available in the present.  The ‘life of the age to come’ is brought forward into the  present, so that believers can enjoy it already . . .”
  
  
  Walter Bruggeman in The Prophetic Imagination talks about Jesus’ teaching, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” He says “The energy of this blessing word comes in the reality that God has alternative futures, that he is free to bestow them, and that futures are not derived from or determined by the present.” . . .

Jesus said "I am resurrection and life." New life breathes through the brown patches of this present reality; resurrection sings while we weep, surrounded by death. The future is not determined by the present. Weeping with us, Jesus says, "Come out. Take the grave clothes off." God has alternative futures, and he is free to bestow them. . . Hallelujah."

Icon of the Resurrection of Christ

For something new (and not by me!): in the April 1, 2026 episode of The Russell Moore Show: Everything Depends on an Empty Tomb, Moore shares parts of six past episodes. 

• Frances Collins: physician/geneticist noted for his leadership of the Human Genome project
• Michael Wear:  strategist and speaker at the intersection of faith and politics 
• David Taylor: theologian and professor at Fuller Seminary
• Christian Wiman: poet
• Kate Bowler: associate professor of American religious history at Duke University
• Tim Keller: founding pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York Cit
  

Across stories of cancer diagnoses, intellectual conversions, poetic insight, and quiet moments of joy, the episode insists on a central truth: the resurrection is not metaphor. And if it happened, then even in grief, uncertainty, and death—everything is going to be okay.

 

 

A Birthday Reminder from John the Baptist

Today is my 70th birthday, a day to look back, look ahead, think, pray, imagine. 

Heavy on my mind is the work of Fair Districts PA. The first formative conversations took place almost exactly ten years ago. I spent much of the Christmas break of 2015 thinking about how to build a Fair Districts PA website, and planning an inaugural gathering for early 2016. I had no idea what I was getting into, no idea where it would lead.

The work has grown from a few endorsing organizations and a handful of volunteers to a large grassroots movement, with an email list that just hit 70,000, an extensive, professionally designed website, a smaller website for a secondary project (Fix Harrisburg), large social media reach on multiple platforms and many passionate, gifted leaders, all volunteers, in counties across the state. 

Despite success in helping achieve better district maps for PA for this decade, we've had no success in seeing bills enacted. As the national redistricting battle escalates, with voters used as pawns in an increasingly toxic partisan drama, we find ourselves wondering: is reform possible in Pennsylvania? Is reform possible NOW? Is there any avenue forward?

Perhaps a larger question: in a time of national upheaval, what can one individual do? I grieve the bombing of modest fishing boats off the coast of Venezuela. I lament the masked ICE agents, and unidentified bounty hunters, grabbing people from schools, churches, courthouses, places of work, private homes.

What can I do?

What can I do when a majority of Supreme Court justices endorse misuse of executive privilege, shrug at miscarriages of justice, enjoy extravagant hospitality in obvious conflicts of interest?

What can I do as people I love lose the modest safety nets that keep their families afloat: SNAP benefits for single moms, heating assistance for poor families in drafty houses, medical help for workers who never quite qualify for normal benefits. 

I know some of my friends and family are still celebrating our current president. I listen carefully, prayerfully, grieving the cruelty, asking "What can I do?"

John the Baptist in the Wilderness;
Geertgen Sint Jans; Netherlands; c1480

My birthday always falls somewhere between various Advent readings about John
the Baptist. I have always found his courage and clarity daunting. He called the religious leaders of his day a "brood of vipers," and warned them of consequences to come: "The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire." 

The crowds following John asked "What should we do?" 

He didn't hesitate in his instructions: “Anyone who has two shirts should share with the one who has none, and anyone who has food should do the same.” 

To the tax collectors he said “Don’t collect any more than you are required to.” 

To the soldiers: “Don’t extort money and don’t accuse people falsely—be content with your pay.”

John was fearless in his confrontation of the rich and powerful, so much so that he found himself in prison. Just as I'm challenged by his explicit answers to the questions of "What should we do?" I'm encouraged by his own questions from prison. He asked two of his closest friends to find Jesus and ask him: "Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?" 

The answer: "Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor."

I think the question, "What should we do?" is one we all carry with us, never more so than in times of challenge and uncertainty. John's answers still hold: share with those who have less. Don't take more than you need. Produce good fruit. Repent. 

Those aren't the final answers, but good places to start. 

I think we also carry the same deeper questions: is God on the side of the the powerful, the wealthy? Is justice an illusion? Are we foolish to imagine God cares for the poor? Are we foolish to think our own actions make a difference? Can we still trust when things go badly?

Sitting by my decorated tree, listening to Christmas music playing softly in the background, sipping my Lady Grey tea and watching the squirrels play in the bare trees in my backyard, I find myself humbled, warmed, and thankful for the life of John the Baptist and his younger cousin, Jesus. 

I'm thankful for the reminder that we are all called to ask "what should I do?" 

We're all invited into places of challenge, given courage as we need it, welcomed to express our doubts and ask hard questions.

I have no idea what the year ahead will bring. No certainty that my work for a redistricting reform will be successful. No easy answers about the future of our country. 

But I do know that while petty kings and kingdoms come and go, I'm called, as we all are, to live as agents of a kingdom not yet visible, and to act in ways that bring good news to the poor.

Saint John the Baptist Preaching in the Wilderness,

Pieter Brueghel the Younger, Netherlands, ca 1601

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