2024 Election
For faith activists and leaders committed to continuing their work to oppose and resist Christian nationalism, President-elect Donald Trump’s return to the White House is disappointing but not a sign of total defeat. Ahead of Inauguration Day, many activists are continuing their coalition-building efforts and sounding the alarm on specific policies they believe Trump may sign executive orders on, day one in office.
We are in for a difficult four years as a country. During the first four years of Donald Trump’s administration, I did not hesitate to call him a fascist, and looking ahead to his next four years, I am so worried about vulnerable people in this country. I am worried about immigrants. I am worried about queer people and trans kids. I am worried, yes, but I know that even in the most difficult time, miracles are possible.
As a person of faith, I am deeply concerned about what the outcome of this election means, especially for those who will be most vulnerable to threats of mass deportations, retaliation against perceived political enemies, and other actions planned by the incoming administration. Yet we must not follow the example set by the president-elect and his followers: We can and should acknowledge the recent election results as legitimate, even if we are pained by them. I am hopeful that we can use this moment to break the fever of election denialism and rebuild trust in our election system — a shift that will be critical for future elections. Equally critical will be our commitment to advance justice and peace, a commitment that requires us to roundly reject the siren songs of violence, conspiracy theory, and anti-democratic methods.
The next four years will be a climate train wreck. Trump and his ilk will dismantle as many policies and regulations as they can. Autocrats and newly influential far-right parties the world over will be emboldened to “drill baby, drill.” More parts of the world will burn, flood, and turn into desert. Refugees — who are treated with God’s passionate care in the Hebrew Bible — will be scorned, vilified, detained, and deported at borders and in global northern countries around the world. It will be painful. And yet, based on the patterns already in place, the world will do its best to look away.
Rev. Jes Kast started planning for the Sunday after the election in midsummer, before her three-month sabbatical. She’d timed her leave intentionally, wanting to return to her congregation well-rested, right before one of most contentious elections in U.S. history. “I had a sense in my spirit that this next phase in ministering, whatever the outcome of the election, would require me to be as spiritually grounded as possible,” said Kast, who pastors Faith United Church of Christ in State College, Pa.
Concession speeches can reveal a glimpse of a politician’s soul, a rare look behind a curated facade. All they have poured their life into, with boundless ambition, hope, and relentless energy, has been lost. They are laid bare, vulnerable. And their words now don’t have to be calculated or pretested by a focus group.
I’ll admit I struggle to face the reality that many in our country — roughly 51 percent of the popular vote, according to current estimates — are feeling some combination of elation, pride, and excitement that their chosen candidate has won. Even in my pain and grief, I know that as a follower of Jesus, I am called to pray for the incoming Trump administration and the people who voted for it. I’m committed to doing that work, but I confess: It feels hard right now.
As I’ve thought about what will sustain me in the days ahead, I’ve been heartened to remember that we are not the first people who have struggled to be faithful under the thumb of oppressive leadership. I’ve especially been thinking of the stories in Exodus: Shiphrah and Puah, the courageous midwives who rejected Pharaoh’s demand to murder male children (Exodus 1:15-22), God’s promise to Moses (Exodus 3:12), and Miriam who led her people in song after escaping the confines of slavery in Egypt (Exodus 15:20-21).
Trump’s campaign was marked by racist and misogynistic rhetoric, promises of authoritarian tactics including dramatic expansion of executive power and retribution for his political rivals, as well as policies that appealed to the anxieties of conservative religious communities, especially Christians.
As faith and justice leaders absorbed the news of a second Trump term, many pointed to the importance of fostering and caring for self and neighbor while figuring out what to do over the next four years.
President-elect Trump, according to the Associated Press, has won the White House. He won the election in part by courting conservative religious communities — and appealing to their anxieties — on the campaign trail. His policy agenda will likely be shaped by these groups, influencing the White House on a range of issues from education to reproductive rights.
In the synoptic gospels, when the currents swelled and wind howled, Jesus woke up during the storm that threatened the lives of his disciples. Although the disciples questioned his authority and were terribly afraid, Jesus woke from his sleep and settled the waves with the sound of his voice. And even though Jesus scolded them, the disciples were safe and the boat sailed on. As we think about the pending uncertainty of the 2024 election, there’s something reassuring in that story for me: God was present in the storm.
According to recent polling, 7 out of 10 Americans are feeling anxious about the 2024 presidential election. And as Election Day draws near, many churches and faith groups are trying to help alleviate some of that anxiety by opening their doors — and virtual spaces — for prayer.
I WRITE THIS two months before the November 2024 U.S. presidential election, knowing that it will land with you, dear readers, after all the votes are in and the course for the next four years is likely set. My insides lurch thinking about the potential outcomes. We are in the middle of the decisive decade for large-scale action to mitigate the worsening effects of climate change. Going in one direction or the other feels, sometimes, like a turn toward life or death for the planet.
Like many, I have learned to apply lessons from navigating the grief and pain of personal losses to our collective crises. I lost my dad suddenly to colon cancer earlier this year. A few weeks later, my mom was diagnosed with stomach cancer. Grasping for predictability amid the unknown, I tried to superimpose my dad’s illness onto my mom’s future. It did not help. My anxiety skyrocketed.
What helped, instead, was applying what Zen practitioners call “beginner’s mind.” A beginner has no background knowledge about a situation. They have no expectations for how things might unfurl. Approaching a situation as a beginner can open pathways that experts did not see.
In an interview with NBC’s Hallie Jackson on Tuesday, Vice President Kamala Harris suggested she would not make concessions for religious exemptions on abortion laws, one of her strongest allusions yet to where she plans to take the abortion debate if she wins the White House in November.
God’s first house — the tabernacle — is movable, following the Israelites as they wander from Egypt to Canaan (Exodus 40:34; Numbers 1:47-53). The theme of migration continues into Jesus’ life, where Matthew’s gospel tells us that he fled political violence and spent much of his childhood in Egypt (Matthew 2:13-23). Even when he is back in his own country, he is unwelcome in his hometown and “has nowhere to lay his head” (Matthew 8:20).
As Republican Ohio Senator JD Vance and his Democratic opponent, Minnesota Governor Tim Walz, compete for the vice presidency ahead of the November election, they bring distinct religious backgrounds — and distinct approaches to the role of faith in public life.
Republican vice presidential nominee JD Vance attended a town hall outside Pittsburgh on Saturday hosted by a Christian nationalist televangelist who believes that Democrat Kamala Harris has an “occult spirit” that runs through her, that she represents the “spirit of Jezebel,” and that she used “witchcraft” during the September presidential debate.
POLL WORKERS ARE everyday people, who are well trained in the process, who step up and serve their communities. Poll workers and election officials at all different polling locations have very strict guidelines on how to handle the equipment and the ballots. You can see these people, in real time, handling these things effectively and following the rules.
Both as a democracy advocate and as a Christian, I put a big value on honesty and on the truth. A democracy needs well-informed people who understand what the truth is, and we need leaders who make decisions based on the truth.
ELECTIONS ARE UPON us. The electoral choices we make, or do not make, have far-reaching implications both for this country and others, for us and future generations.
Four years ago, I gave up my Indian citizenship and became an American citizen to vote in the U.S. general election in 2020. At that time, it seemed like the most important election in my life — and I wanted to have a say in it. Astonishingly, the stakes for elections this November feel as anxiety-inducing and consequential, if not more, than four years ago.
Such fears notwithstanding, as people of faith we vote from a place of hope, not despair. As Christians in a powerful nation, we have a particular responsibility to vote, not just for ourselves but with sensitivity to the Body of Christ around the world. Voting in democratic systems such as ours models a nonviolent transfer of power. We vote for ourselves and for our neighbors. We vote because elections afford us an opportunity to pursue a just and fair future for our communities and country. Elections can give legislative framework to a full range of our faith commitments; ensure that our public institutions serve the poor rather than exploit them; and shape our country into the multiethnic, multireligious, economically equitable democracy it is intended to be. Our votes can contribute to the transformations we envision.
This election season, all people of faith and good conscience must reflect deeply, organize effectively, and vote diligently to elect competent and compassionate leadership. May we choose our leaders wisely.
NOSTALGIA IS THE LEVERAGE of the powerful. When weaponized, it serves as a deft political tool. It plays on the sentiments of the disgruntled and disenfranchised. It creates a one-dimensional patriotism that never tells the full story. It preserves the story of privilege.
One white comedian reflected, “Here’s how great it is to be white: I could get in a time machine and go to any time, and it would be ... awesome when I get there,” he says. “That is exclusively a white privilege. ... A Black guy in a time machine is like, ‘Hey, if it’s before 1980, no thank you. I don’t wanna go.’” While this made for good comedic insight, many of my siblings of European ancestry who know the history of their ancestors — religious persecution and violence motivated some of their journeys to the shores of North America — also might not want to escape too far back in time.