EIGHT months ago, the Bishop of Washington, DC, the Rt Revd Mariann Edgar Budde, gave voice to the fears of those shaken by Donald Trump’s second presidential election victory. In a sermon at an interfaith service in Washington National Cathedral to mark his inauguration, she pleaded directly with him directly for mercy — for migrants, for children, and for the LGBTQ community (News, 24 January).
As she prepared the sermon, she considered its potential impact. She expected the ensuing criticism and hostility, but not the level of support that she received from people across the United States and around the world.
She says: “I was expecting criticism. I mean, I had experienced that before, and I know it has a rhythm to it. I was not prepared for the outpouring of support and gratitude from around the country and around the world . . . that caught me by surprise.
“One of the reasons I’ve stayed in — and most of my work as Bishop is not in the public arena at all — but I’ve chosen to stay in, to amplify a way of being a public Christian that isn’t getting a lot of attention in our country because the other voices are quite loud and are arguably more powerful in terms of their alliance with the current administration. To have that many people respond so positively said to me, OK, this feels a bit like water in a parched desert.”
It was not her intention to be remembered for a plea to a President — she describes her sermon as “pretty basic stuff” — but the response persuaded her to use her new global audience, despite fears for her safety. Invitations to speak have poured in. Most she refuses, she says, because she feels called to stay on the ground in Washington, close to the people she serves.
“I’m going to do what I can to strengthen those who have been saying basically the same thing I’ve been saying all along, in their pulpits and in their communities.
“You know, a sermon on one day doesn’t change the world. You have to have movements of people that are dedicated to causes and believe in certain moral convictions, and that’s the work. I mean, that’s the day-to-day work.’
PART of that work is highlighting the dangers of Christian nationalism, which is “not new”, and is rising in parts of the world, including the UK.
“In my estimation, it’s dangerous. It’s a very unhealthy misappropriation of the mantle of Christianity, and a distortion of the faith for political purposes and to benefit a very small group of people. It’s also understandable how it has emerged in this country, given our history and the ways that Christianity, to our shame, has been wrapped up in political power, enslavement, and colonisation, and all the ways that people can be dehumanised.
“We have a lot to answer for. But, fortunately, that’s not the message of Christ or the Church; and so we can make that corrective. That’s what I’m trying to do.”
The Episcopal Church is now a much smaller voice in the body politic, with waning influence. But distance from the new Establishment also allows more space to challenge — and to amplify voices on the margins.
The personal threats and hostility that the Bishop experienced in the aftermath of the sermon have subsided, and “I’m back at work,” she says. But the recent murder of a politician and her husband in Minnesota shows that political violence is a real issue in US politics, Bishop Budde acknowledges.
Meanwhile, the President has pursued his agenda at a relentless pace, delighting his supporters and fulfilling the fears of his critics.
He didn’t listen to your plea, I ask. “He hasn’t listened.” He hasn’t shown any mercy?
A pause. “He has not.”
AlamyBishop Budde at the national service attended by President Trump after his inauguration
Do you pray for him? “Of course I do. Yeah, I do pray for him, I pray for all in positions of political power, but I try not to lecture God in my prayers. Most of my prayers are for courage and clarity and strength, and wisdom, and a sense of God’s presence. I try to leave the rest in God’s hands.”
It was not her first encounter with this President. In his first term, she publicly condemned his photo opportunity with a Bible in front of St John’s Episcopal Church, after he threatened military force against protesters in the wake of George Floyd’s killing. She was surprised that his team did not object when they saw that she was due to give the sermon at this year’s service — they were swept up in their own triumph, perhaps, she suggests. But, for the Bishop of Washington, there are still many occasions on which Church and government intersect, and they will doubtless meet again.
Would she repeat the same message? “Yes.”
She says, however, that politics and influence are not the focus of her ongoing work. “To be honest, I feel like my work now is closer to the ground. You know, closer to people — not necessarily in the halls of political power, but with people in their lives and in our church communities, and in the courtrooms, the detention facilities, and in the hospitals.”
THE work of the Episcopal Church and her own needs are focused on two areas: solidarity and telling the truth. Solidarity is in the day-to-day work of church communities: accompanying migrants when they are called before immigration officials and courts, providing food and security for those who are unhoused. It is labour-intensive and exhausting, she says, particularly in an atmosphere of growing fear and anxiety.
The streets of the US capital are currently tense, as the National Guard has been sent in as part of what President Trump has framed as a crackdown on crime. Other Republican states are sending their own troops in support of his move.
But Bishop Budde describes the motivation differently. “It’s surreal, to be honest. . . It’s beginning to feel like a deportation raid,” she says: “a real effort to do what the President has wanted, which is to remove as many undocumented people living in our country as he can. . . It’s terrifying. It’s absolutely terrifying.”
Truth-telling is a “full-time job,” she says. “There’s just so much untruth, blatant lies, and it’s exhausting. And it’s impossible to respond to all of it. And I think that’s part of the strategy, to be honest: every day, there’s something more, meant to keep people off kilter or out of balance, unsure which outrage to respond to or to dismiss.”
Asked to imagine what the US will be like in four years, she says that her concern is for the future of democracy there. In expressing her fears, she draws oblique parallels with wars in Europe and the spread of authoritarianism around the globe.
“I want to do what I can. The pendulum will swing at some point back. But when, and how long? You know, I’m in my sixties now; so I’m thinking about myself, but also for my children, for my grandchildren, for all those who are being born now — what kind of society are they inheriting, and what can we do now? Just as people must have said the same thing in really scary times in the past, right? And we’ve lived through them in our country before.
“Europe has certainly lived through it. Other parts of the world are facing their own disasters now; so it’s not as if we’re unique. But because we have such economic and political influence, we thought this would never happen to us. Here we are.”
How to respond as individual Christians to this challenge is a constant act of discernment, she acknowledges. The daily stream of news can be overwhelming, and the temptation for many is either numbness or despair.
Does she have moments of despair, of angry tears?
“Are you asking if I’m human? Of course I do, right? Because I’m a human being. None of us can do any of this all the time. Well, we need to know each other and trust — using that line from The Lord of the Rings — that there are other forces at work in the universe besides evil. And the Spirit of God is at work for good, which I take as a statement of absolute conviction, even in the hardest times. I’m not Pollyanna about that, but I will go to my grave trusting that.”
Hope is an active choice that she makes each day.
“Hope is a feeling that you feel, but it’s also a discipline. It’s a spiritual practice. Christianity wasn’t based on the world being perfect. . . The resurrection is a promise, but it doesn’t say that suffering and death are eliminated. Most of the time, how I feel isn’t the deciding factor. It’s whether or not I will live in hope. And I will.”
Bishop Budde will be speaking at the Festival of Preaching on 13 September in Southwark Cathedral. festivalofpreaching.hymnsam.co.uk
