I am going to speak about Tuesday’s election, but perhaps less about the election and more about what the United States of America means to me, and what I believe is at stake in this election.
To begin, historically, the Sunday before election day features the ‘get out the vote’ sermon. Unitarian Universalist ministers really don’t need to remind their parishioners to vote. Democracy, freedom, liberty, the right of conscience—all lie at the heart of our spiritual identity. For many of us, voting is a sacred obligation. I know from experience that you take voting very seriously, and I have never felt a strong need to urge any of you to vote. Many of you have taken advantage of CT’s new option for early voting. When I went to vote I saw UUSE member Randy Kurker-Stewart in line. And it was UUSE member Paul Lorenzo who checked me in, gave me a double high five, and handed me my ballot. That was a rush. I was really happy—and really proud—to receive my ballot in this election from a member of our congregation.
Some of you volunteer to drive elderly and disabled voters to the polls. Some work on campaigns. Some of you run for office. Some of you volunteer for voter turn-out operations. I will note that since 2016 members of UUSE have participated in letter-writing efforts through the auspices of the Unitarian Universalist Association’s non-partisan “UU the Vote” campaign. This year, most of you who’ve done this in the past opted to volunteer for partisan voter-turnout operations. Because they are partisan, we don’t organize or keep track of them in any way. I do want to point out that one UUSE member, Ollie Cohen, continued with UU the Vote and wrote letters to voters in swing states through the non-partisan voter turnout organization Vote Forward. Ollie wrote 800 letters to help turn out the vote in North Carolina!
Please know I take the separation of church and state very seriously. Although that language – ‘separation of church and state’ – does not appear in the United States Constitution, its spirit figures prominently in the first half of the first amendment to the Constitution: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” I interpret that language to mean that the United States government is, always has been, and will continue to be a secular government. While there are some in our nation who long for a theocracy and would replace our time-honored religious freedoms with the tenets of Christian Nationalism, the United States is and always has been religiously pluralistic; respects and upholds the freedom of individuals and organizations to practice religion in accordance with their conscience, respects and supports religious minorities, and offers safe harbor to people fleeing religious persecution in other parts of the world. This is one of the reasons I love the United States of America and proudly sing “America the Beautiful.” As the scholar of religion Diana Eck has said, “freedom of religion is part of the blueprint for America.”[1] To oppose religious freedom, to oppose the separation of church and state, is profoundly un-American.
One of the ways the United States maintains the separation of church and state is through the federal tax code, specifically through the Johnson Amendment of 1954 (that’s then Senator Lyndon Baines Johnson). This amendment to the code’s section 501(c)(3) prohibits tax-exempt organizations, including churches and other religious bodies, from engaging in political campaign activities. As a church, we cannot endorse or oppose candidates for public office, which is why any voter turnout efforts we participate in have to be non-partisan. It is my understanding that churches and other religious organizations did historically participate in electoral politics, blurring the line of separation. The Johnson Amendment ended that practice, and continues to serve as a powerful guardrail for preserving the separation of church and state. For me, upholding it rises to the level of a sacred obligation.
While I have always found it relatively easy to refrain from making an explicit endorsement of a candidate for office, I confess that in every federal election going back to 2016, it has become increasingly difficult for me—and in this election I find it virtually impossible—to talk about what’s at stake in the election without implying an endorsement. That is, when we look at what is at stake; when we use our Unitarian Universalist principles or our new Unitarian Universalist values and covenants to assess what the presidential and down-ballot candidates say, one candidate—and essentially one party—clearly represents a set of policy proposals that contradict our principles and values. And not only that, one candidate—and essentially one party—explicitly promotes a set of anti-democratic measures that would erode constitutional protections, for example asking the Department of Justice to investigate political opponents, revoking broadcasting licenses for media outlets who report in ways deemed unfavorable to that candidate, or using the military to conduct domestic law enforcement operations, including operations against protestors. Any of these actions would violate the second half of the First Amendment to the United States Constitution, which grants the people of the United States freedom of speech, freedom of the press, the right to peaceful assembly, and the right to petition the government for a redress of grievances.
These are threats to our democracy, and I am unwilling to ignore them when I speak from this pulpit. But how do I—how do we—talk about these threats without making an implicit endorsement? I really don’t know. Yet, I’m also unwilling to take responsibility for the problem. One candidate—and essentially one party—has created this problem by refusing to uphold long-standing democratic norms and threatening to abandon others. Maybe I’ll draft a letter. “Dear Internal Revenue Service: This sermon as not an endorsement of any political candidate. It’s not my fault that one of the candidates equates virtually everything dear to me and my religion as the ‘enemy within.’ Any advice you can give on how to navigate these treacherous legal waters will be greatly appreciated.”
The United States of America was founded as a promise to future generations. “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” I’ve never read these words as a declaration that the nation was perfect upon its founding. The founders didn’t regard it as perfect. They argued about it relentlessly, and continued to argue after the founding. Looking back over these past 237 years, clearly it was riddled with imperfections the founders couldn’t collectively grasp. We live with the legacies of those imperfections and are still coming to terms with them—settler colonialism, slavery, the disenfranchisement of women and anyone not wealthy enough to own property. The founders bequeathed to us an imperfect union with the promise that it could be perfected, that there could be greater justice, lasting tranquility, robust public welfare, a reliable common defense and all the blessings of liberty: freedom of speech, freedom of the press, freedom to assemble, freedom of religion. Blessings all. They promised us—their posterity—that in using the tools or representative democracy, we the people could craft solutions to our most vexing problems. By coming together, dealing with facts, dealing with what is known to work, finding common ground, we the people could fulfill the founders’ promise slowly, over time.
And that is precisely what has happened. This movement toward perfection has included the slow expansion of democratic participation, the inclusion of more and more constituencies in the rights the founders identified. I point to the 13th amendment to the Constitution abolishing slavery—though not perfectly. I point to the 14th amendment establishing criteria for citizenship and equal protection under the law—though not perfectly. I point to the 15th amendment establishing the right of men to vote regardless of race, color, or previous condition of servitude—though not perfectly. I point to the 19th amendment giving women the right to vote—though not perfectly. All of this I regard as the slow, incremental fulfillment of the founders’ original promise. All of this I regard as America the beautiful.
And, with every movement toward perfection, toward justice, toward greater inclusion and participation, toward an expanding franchise, there has been harsh, sometimes violent resistance—a painful truth of United States history. Resistance to expanding democracy for People of Color. Resistance to women voting, women in the workplace, women having access to their own property and other forms of wealth; women making choices about their reproductive healthcare. Resistance to workers organizing for a living wage, for decent benefits, for protections in the workplace. In more recent decades, resistance to GLBTQ rights and inclusion. Resistance to any effort to address climate change despite the overwhelming scientific evidence for impending climate catastrophes; resistance to any influx of immigrants in all eras of our history—Irish in one era, Italian in another, Jewish, Eastern European, Chinese, Mexican, Syrian, Afghan, Haitian—people have come to the United States from every country in the world Inevitably, there is resistance despite the evidence that immigrants contribute positively to the general welfare. (Sidebar: Puerto Ricans are United States citizens, not immigrants, which one candidate’s campaign staff doesn’t quite seem to understand.)
Resistance is inevitable. Today one candidate—and essentially one party—has harnessed the longstanding American impulse to resist progress. If it prevails in this election, it is quite possible we will see retrenchment on democracy, on who can participate, on who is entitled to certain rights, on who has control over their own body. That’s what’s at stake in this election. I’m not endorsing a candidate. I am endorsing the promise of America for all Americans. I am endorsing the long, slow expansion of democratic participation, the long, slow expansion of civil rights, the time-honored separation of church and state. I am endorsing fairness, kindness, caring, compassion and love. I am not endorsing the return to a mythical golden age of American greatness—no such age ever existed. I am endorsing the look forward, the hard work, the perennial struggle to establish a more perfect union.
Finally, here we are. It’s the eve of the 2024 presidential election. We are facing an existential moment for our democracy. Though we don’t know what will happen, we do know that in the very least, the next few weeks are going to be hard, not only because of disinformation campaigns and legal challenges leading to chaos and distrust, but also because of the very real possibility of violence. So many of you have told me you’re not doing well: you’re nervous, anxious, stomach in knots, terrified, can’t sleep, can’t focus. “Despair for the world,” as the poet Wendell Berry said in our opening words, grows in us. We wake in the night at the last sound in fear of what our lives and our children’s lives may be. Berry urges us, in moments like this, to “come into the peace of wild things … into the presence of still water ….” To rest for a time in the grace of the world and be free. [2] Some may hear these words in this moment as a form of escapism or denial. I disagree. We need to take care of ourselves, in order to stay strong for what lies ahead. It’s good advice in the near term. Find peace now, because surely there is hard work ahead.
I also urge you, during the post-election period, to rest in the grace of each other. As I said in my November newsletter column, whatever happens after Tuesday, let’s be present to each other. Let’s hold each other, because we’re going to need holding. Let’s be kind to each other, because we’re going to need kindness. Let’s love each other, because we’re going to need the support of a loving community. Whatever happens, let’s not go through it alone. Let’s go through it together.
This Tuesday evening, Janet Dauphin, who is co-chair of our Membership Committee, will host an online gathering from 7:00 to 9:00 for people who want to be together on election night. Thursday from 4:00 to 6;00, Mary and I will host an in-person gathering in this space. We’ll have readings, music, silence, candle-lighting, an opportunity for sharing thoughts and feelings. I’ll host an online gathering Friday from 3:30 to 5:30. And we’ll plan more the following week depending on what happens, how people are feeling and what people need.
My prayer for you on election eve, is that this congregation, this beloved spiritual community, may be a haven for you in the coming weeks. May it hold you. May it calm you. May it sustain you. May your Unitarian Universalist community be a source of hope and resilience for you. And may it always inspire you to take the forward look, to engage in the hard work, the perennial struggle to establish a more perfect union, to build America the beautiful.
Amen and blessed be.
[1] Pitney, Nico, “Her Modern Family: Four Moms, Four Refugee Kids, and Plenty More, Huffington Post, August 27, 2016. See: https://www.huffpost.com/entry/diana-eck-interview_n_57bf669de4b04193420e6e65.
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