The Bishop, The Leader, and The Convert
Reflecting on Bishop Marian Edgar Budde's National Prayer Service Sermon
Yesterday was the National Prayer Service at the National Cathedral, in Washington DC. This year’s service was led by Episcopal Bishop Marian Edgar Budde, leader of the Washington Diocese. I encourage you, if you haven’t done so, to listen to the sermon she gave in full:
Bishop Budde ended with this plea directly to the President:
“Let me make one final plea, Mr. President. Millions have put their trust in you. And as you told the nation yesterday, you have felt the providential hand of a loving God. In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now.”
"There are gay, lesbian and transgender children in Democratic, Republican, and independent families, some who fear for their lives."
“The people who pick our crops and clean our office buildings; who labor in poultry farms and meat packing plants; who wash the dishes after we eat in restaurants and work the night shifts in hospitals, they – they may not be citizens or have the proper documentation. But the vast majority of immigrants are not criminals. They pay taxes and are good neighbors.”
"I ask you to have mercy, Mr. President, on those in our communities whose children fear that their parents will be taken away. And that you help those who are fleeing war zones and persecution in their own lands to find compassion and welcome here. Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger, for we were all once strangers in this land."
“May God grant us all the strength and courage to honor the dignity of every human being, speak the truth in love and walk humbly with one another and our God, for the good of all the people of this nation and the world.”
President Trump, of course, did not like this, calling these words that echoed those of Jesus “political” and “nasty.” True to form, Trump’s criticism of Bishop Budde included the idea that the prayer service - a worship service, in a church - was “not too exciting,” as if it were an episode of TV that failed to keep hold his very fleeting attention. Its not surprising at all that the Gospel nature of the Bishop’s words were lost on Donald Trump. Its quite obvious that he is not, nor has he ever been, a committed, practicing Christian. He may want us to think otherwise for political reasons, but one only has to listen to him talk about religion for five minutes to recognize otherwise.
So, I don’t want to spend much time today thinking about Donald Trump; there are a lot of other good voices out there doing that. Instead, I want to turn my focus to the man sitting next to Trump yesterday, whose facial expressions during the service said a whole lot. That man, of course, is Vice President JD Vance. Just watch, for a moment, Vance here as the Bishop speaks:
JD Vance has worked, in his Trump era, to explain himself in two ways: first, as a sort of amalgam of a finance and tech bro; and second, as a fairly recently converted Catholic. Unlike Trump, I do think Vance - who was once a very thoughtful and nuanced public thinker- is a religious person. His centering of his Catholicism as central to his identity makes his squirming and smirking and making little comments under his breath as the Bishop spoke all the more striking. It was enough to make one wonder if perhaps Vice President Vance is not too familiar with the words of the faith tradition he claims so fervently.
For instance, Vance likes to credit St. Augustine as one of the primary impetuses behind his conversion. Now, I too like Augustine quite a bit. So, perhaps you’ll understand my question for Vance if you read what Augustine had to say about the Christian’s call to practice mercy, echoed by Bishop Budde in her sermon. One of Augustine’s most famous sayings is, “Two works of mercy set a person free: Forgive and you will be forgiven, and give and you will receive.” This isn’t radical political rhetoric; these are the words of the most revered Doctor of the Church, the man who Vance himself claims to hold in high reverence. So, when I see Vance shaking his head at Bishop Budde’s words, it makes me wonder: does he think that, when he enters his role as Vice President, that the commands and obligations of the Christian faith no longer apply?
Of course, Vance may not like all Augustine had to say about the role of the those in power in securing justice, and what happens when justice is forgotten by those who lead us: “Where there is no justice there is no commonwealth…Remove justice and what are kingdoms but gangs of criminals on a large scale? What are criminal gangs but petty kingdoms?”
It’s not just Augustine, though; Catholic history is full of words about the role of justice and mercy in the state. For instance, St. Thomas Aquinas, who along with Augustine, makes up the most towering theological duo in church history, famously write, “Mercy is the fulfillment of justice.” If you would act justly, Aquinas is saying - and what else is a leader to do but pursue justice? - then you must exercise mercy, first and foremost. Justice cannot be merely the meting out of just dues to those who have wronged us. No, Aquinas says; mercy is the foundation of justice; in order to set right the wrongs we see, we must have mercy upon those who have wronged us. Even if the ones we feel have wronged us are immigrants, or too woke, or whatever the particular grievance is.
To bring us up to modern Catholic teaching, I know Vance probably isn’t a big fan of Pope Francis, so I’ll avoid quoting him. But, perhaps Vance has a softer spot for the former Pope Benedict, hard liner that he is? Perhaps he, and you, will excuse me then, for this longer quote; it is quite extraordinary in full:
The parable in Matthew's Gospel of the labourers, called to work by day in the vineyard (20:1-16), enables us to understand the difference between human and divine justice because it makes the delicate relationship between justice and mercy explicit. The parable describes a farmer who hired labourers to work in his vineyard. But he did so at different times of day so that some of them worked all day and others only for an hour. When the time came to pay their wages the owner of the vineyard elicited amazement and started a discussion among the labourers. The matter concerned the generosity — considered unfair by those present — of the vineyard owner who decided to give the same remuneration to the workers hired in the morning as to those hired in the afternoon. In the human perspective this decision was an authentic form of unfairness, from God's viewpoint an act of kindness, because divine justice gives to each what he is due and includes in addition mercy and forgiveness.
Justice and mercy, justice and charity on which the Church's charity is hinged, are two different realities only for the human person. For we distinguish carefully between a just act and an act of love. For us "just" means "what is due to the other", while "merciful" is what is given out of kindness. One seems to exclude the other. Yet for God it is not like this: justice and charity coincide in him; there is no just action that is not also an act of mercy and pardon, and at the same time, there is no merciful action that is not perfectly just.
How far God's logic is from our own! And how different is his way of acting from ours! The Lord invites us to understand and observe the the true spirit of the law to give it total fulfilment in love for those in need. "Love... is the fulfilling of the law", St Paul wrote (Rom 13:10). Our justice will be all the more perfect the more motivated it is by love for God and for our brethren.
If it wasn’t clear before, it should be by now: justice and mercy are at the heart of what it means to be a Christian. Trump and Vance like to publicly claim their devotion to the faith. Thus, in attending a Christian worship service inaugurating the start of their new president administration, they should not be surprised or angered to hear, from the pulpit, a call for them to act, in the official roles they are inheriting, with mercy and justice towards the poor and the oppressed. This is not social justice being substituted for the Gospel; this is the Gospel message, in its most concentrated form. One only needs to read the Beatitudes, the words of Jesus in his own Sermon, to see where Bishop Budde was drawing from:
3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
4 “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
5 “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
6 “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
7 “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
8 “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
9 “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
10 “Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
11 “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely[b] on my account. 12 Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
I’ve been slightly tongue-in-cheek in my approach to Vice President Vance’s faith through this essay, but let me say with all earnestness: the words of Bishop Budde yesterday were words not just for Donald Trump and his administration, but for all of us to hear. Last night, as the Pub Theology event my church hosts every two weeks, we had a conversation about what it means to love your enemy when it appears that your enemy is the sitting president of the United States, a man who seemingly is willing to let his power be used to harm and oppress the vulnerable, the immigrants, and the poor. It is a hard question; I don’t feel very much like loving my enemy today, or any day really. But, it is what we are called to do.
Bishop Budde’s words must be a wake-up call to us all: we are called to practice love and justice and mercy, each and every day, for each and every person we meet. We can’t simply throw up our hands because Trump and Vance didn’t understand the words they heard. No, we have work to do, the only work that will actually overcome the great wrongs sure to come from this administration. My colleague Rev. Lori Walke wrote these words on her own Substack today in response to Bishop Budde’s message, and I know I feel convicted by them:
So how is it, friends, that you are showing mercy to the gay, lesbian, and transgender children in your community?
Where is our compassion visible for the people who pick our crops and clean our office buildings?
How are you working to ease the troubles of those who labor in poultry farms and meat packing plants?
In what ways are we working to change the system for those who wash the dishes after we eat in restaurants and work the night shifts in hospitals?
Given the truth that you were once a stranger, how are you offering hospitality to those who may not be citizens or have the proper documentation?
What organizations do we support that work to make it so that children don’t have to fear that their parents will be taken away?
Bishop Budde’s words lament what is surely to come from this administration. But they also point the way, to how we can fight back, as Christians: by loving our neighbors and our enemies, by seeking justice through acts of mercy, by protecting those at risk, and speaking truth to power, to be the hands and feet of Jesus in the world. May we all have the courage to do these things.