As a pastor, it’s tricky to write to a general audience about the feelings that follow a presidential election, because faith communities are diverse. Some members are rejoicing and some lamenting, as the wisdom goes. And that has been the case in elections past when people could agree to disagree on political differences and find common ground in sharing common prayer or singing hymns of praise or sharing in the unifying act of Eucharist.
These sacred places of common ground still remain for us, especially as a church that displays an “All Are Welcome” banner. Our political diversity might be somewhat muted, but we can assume it’s there.
At the same time the Gospel reminds us over and over again that there are some things that we cannot agree to disagree on, like bigotry, racism, cruelty and intimidation, violent retribution, oppression of the poor, the innocent, the vulnerable, and the stranger. Our Scriptures and our tradition call us to oppose these things in ourselves and in others and to work together to resist them, with God’s help. That is woven into our Baptismal Covenant when we vow to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself” and to “strive for peace and justice among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.”
The St. Peter’s community renewed those Baptismal promises this past Sunday during the Feast of All Saints and as part of the Baptism we witnessed that day. So those vows were fresh for those of us who went to the election booth on Tuesday.
We may have different opinions on how to live out these promises, but they remain essential values upheld in our faith tradition as "members of the Episcopal branch of the Jesus movement," as our previous Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry, likes to call us. So when these values are threatened or violated, we share in the suffering that pours from the wound and in the call to respond.
Given the stated platform of the incoming administration, that shared suffering and fear brought many of us to church yesterday to pray for guidance and for peace, and to hold one another in love. We filled the chapel for the 9:30 a.m. Eucharist. Several assembled for Night Prayer at 7 p.m. Gathering with people who love you is an essential way to manage fear, express grief, and ease the anxiety that interrupts sleep.
The prayer that arose from those gatherings was for those in harm’s way, those feeling threat and panic, for the courage and grace to be peacemakers, to offer safe haven, to be a source of love and justice that changes things. It was the prayer of the church to be Church.
Vibrant, visible Church is what St. Peter’s is called to be when times get tough or the threat becomes clear. Such times call us to be the Body of Christ in ever more tangible and effective ways in our daily lives. And we can do this because we have a lot of practice being Church.
But at the same time, in the first dismaying week, there are steps that we need to take to gentile ourselves, to care for one another and to distance ourselves from the invitation to jump into the social maelstrom of blame and finger pointing and retribution.
Here are some things that I am doing:
I’m turning to prayer, and letting the words of our liturgies speak for me when I don’t have words. I’m letting myself be angry with God when that’s how I feel because I know God can take it and will wait for me to be reasonable again. You can also download the Night Prayer liturgy that we used from the New Zealand Prayer Book last night.
I’m letting beautiful and meaningful music lift me. Here in fact is a song that we sang at liturgy last night, written by my colleague The Rev. Linda Noonan when she was pastor of Chestnut Hill United Church, We are Made for these Times.
I’m choosing my listening and reading material carefully and avoiding news sources that trigger me or send me into despair. I typically listen to NPR while doing my morning stretches. This morning, I instead listened to the first 20 minutes of Rebecca Solnit’s audio version of her book “Hope in the Dark.”
I’m taking my time before I leap to action, giving myself permission to rest for as long as I need to. I’m not beating myself up for not feeling energized at the moment. I’m not having conversations with people I disagree with, especially on Facebook.
I’m letting my emotions come as they will. This is also the lesson of being in grief, which is also newly upon me with the recent death of my mother. I’m letting the tears come when they come, and I’m relishing moments of quiet watching and fierce and joyful feelings when they surface. I’m naming my feelings when I can. I’m making space for others to have their feelings as well.
For the time being, this is the work at hand. And it’s how we will begin to prepare ourselves for whatever awaits. Whatever that is, St. Peter’s will meet it with the grace and the love of Christ, shaped by mutual discernment and love.
In the meantime, pray for our country, pray for our faith community, pray for the peace of Christ among us. And please pray for me, as I will pray for you.
Amen.