Feast of Epiphany, Part II: The Losers

 Yesterday dawned bright, full of hope, historic moments, forward movement. After I left the inspiring edifices to freedom and social justice, I went to visit a friend (outside, socially distanced) whom I had not seen in several years. While we were talking on her balcony, my phone buzzed insistently several times, alerting to me to incoming text messages. Of course, they were messages from friends and family, congregants asking where I was and had I seen the madness?

And then I opened the news app on my phone and saw the horror with my own eyes. Fresh from the possibilities of justice, of Beloved Community seen in the Martin Luther King, Jr National Historic Park, and the Martin Luther King, Jr Center for Non-Violent Social Change, gladdened by comments on my video and photos of those places by others who had been there and had been equally inspired, I now saw the center of our government, the seat of the sacred trust of democracy breached by domestic terrorists, white supremacists, QAnon kool aid drinkers who had the audacity to literally break into the Capitol of our nation in a dangerous, adult-sized imitation of schoolyard bullies who didn’t get the lunch money this time they were used to shaking down other kids for.

Many others more eloquent and with better social analysis than I have already written on this, but I could not ignore what is happening in our nation, what happened yesterday, and what we can do to move on.

You have seen the footage: the speech by Trump at the white supremacist rally where he sounded like a football coach at half-time telling his team they need to get out there and show them who’s boss. Encouraging the brainwashed minions of his narcissistic ego to march to the Capitol, spewing forth the worn out lies about how the election was stolen.

You saw the footage of the illegally armed domestic terrorists literally breaching the Capitol, a feat that has only happened once before in the history of our nation, in 1814, by the British who then sacked and burned the place down. The photos of armed white terrorists breaking into offices, desecrating the chambers of Congress with their filthy confederate flags, many wearing t-shirts that boldly proclaimed: Civil War January 6, 2021. This was not an impulsive moment, a crowd who was taken over by their own rhetoric; this was a clearly planned, methodical event that had been openly discussed in hate group online forums for weeks.

Equally plain was the scion of white privilege rearing its ugly head; asserting its right to commit acts of

treason without being tear-gassed, sprayed with rubber bullets, or shot in the back. The demeanor of the police was appalling videos showing capitol officers literally opening the barriers to let the terrorists in, taking selfies with seditionists, helping a white supremacist navigate the stairs. This in stark contrast to the aggressive, violent approach taken during the peaceful protests in the summer against citizens who had gathered to denounce the murder of George Floyd and proclaim this truth, which should be self-evident but is lost in the haze of white supremacy: that Black Lives Matter. If the protesters at the BLM events had tried to storm the capitol, there would be a bloodbath and a sea of black and brown bodies shot down.

And when finally, the white domestic terrorists had been escorted out of the Capitol building, after incendiary devices had been found and safely detonated, Congress reconvened with determination to complete the task on the agenda of the day: to certify the electoral votes for President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris. Many Republicans who had said in advance they were going to challenge the votes, changed their minds, but not all. Oh no. Even with such stark evidence of what happens when you fuel the outrageous lies of a narcissistic bully for political gain, when they bottle-feed conspiracy theories, they themselves don’t really believe in, Republicans still stood to challenge the legality of the votes, still vomited forth the already debunked narrative that the election was rigged.
For what gain? There was no chance in hell even before the carnage that they would approve these challenges. It was only more self-serving, self-aggrandizing posturing by political leaders who have become so drunk on the power they had in the trump regime that they can no longer think rationally or act truthfully.

For the past four years, Trump has lied, bullied, cheated, blackmailed, and harangued to get his way. He has never once acted with a shred of dignity, grace, nor has he ever risen to the solemnity of the office he lost by popular vote four years ago. And his simpering sycophants have been right there with him, like the Emperor’s tailors, whispering flattery into his ears, publicly proclaiming what a grand and glorious new set of clothes he wore, denying the flaccid nakedness of his depravity.

That this act of treason happened is appalling, but not surprising. It has been building to this inevitable outcome for the past four years.

And what I find sad is that Trump, even after all the misuses of his office and the 26,000 plus documented lies he told, and the shameful ways he has behaved, could have still left with a little dignity. He could have conceded, shook Joe Biden’s hand, and helped create a peaceful, orderly transition. He could have done that. Except for the fact that his narcissism is too deeply entrenched into his personality.
Instead, he ordered his sycophant-in-chief- Rudy Giuliani to hold a press conference alleging fraud. He himself called a press conference to allege fraud. He tried to get his Vice President to illegally change the election results. He incited treason.

So, this is how he leaves: his lawyer, with hair dye running down his face, and himself sitting behind a tiny desk, as if trying to look bigger than he is and all we see is the facade of the past four years running down the face of our nation, and a tiny man behind a tiny desk; a pathetic, soul less loser.

It’s interesting, I thought, that this happened on the Feast of Epiphany. In the Christian story, it incensed Herod when the magi didn't vote the way he wanted them to, they didn't give him Divine Love on a platter for him to destroy, so he murders innocent children. Fitting.

At the end of this day, we have beauty and the best of democracy in action and we have destruction and the worst of human behavior on display.

And every day, we get to be the magi. We get to choose. Will we continue down the path of privilege and power, of blissful ignorance to the peril of our kin of color and other disenfranchised folx? Or will we, transformed by possibility, choose to go another way, a harder way to be sure, a way that demands the same accountability of ourselves that we are now demanding of our leaders, a way in which we will surely stub our toes and stumble? Yes, we will stumble, but we can be confident that on this path companions will surround us, all of us seeking Beloved Community, each of us pledging to help one another up and to keep on going.

This is the path Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. chose. This is the path I choose, remembering that in the furthest depths of despair, the eternal flame of freedom and justice shines brightly; we are its keepers, now. Let it burn.

Feast of Epiphany, Part I: The Winners

 I’ve been awake since 215 AM ET, unable to keep from checking the news, reading what others are already saying about the seditious act of rebellion instigated by the outgoing president, egged on by House and Senate Republicans who were threatening to contest the results of the Electoral College—a mere formality, attesting to the greatness of democracy in past elections—and put into action by clueless but faithful citizens turned traitors, inspired by Trump’s rambling address to the rally which included calling on them to advance on the Capitol, implying he would be by their side.

Tuesday afternoon, I drove into the city of Atlanta, GA.  On the third leg of my car Camino, I was eager to be once again in the “room where it happened.” The runoff race for the two Georgia senate seats would be a historic event. If the two Democratic contenders won, it would be the first time in 20 years Georgians has sent a Democrat to the Senate and the first time they had voted in a Black senator. Georgia is one of the original colonies, entering the Union in 1788 and they have taken part in every presidential election except for 1864; they had seceded from the Union, joining their ranks with the confederacy. Could it be that, finally, over 155 years after that seditious war, would they make history?

I went to bed on Tuesday night still unsure of how the race would go; it was awfully close. I awoke yesterday to the news that Rev. Dr. Raphael Warnock had claimed victory, and it was only a matter of time before Jon Ossoff joined him in the winner’s circle. Elated, I drove to Auburn Avenue, the historic center of African American life, social justice activism, and education from the 1920s through the

1970s. It is the home to Ebenezer Baptist Church, where Martin Luther King, Sr. was the third pastor of that grand church, founded in 1886. He served that church from 1931 to 1975, Martin Luther King, Jr. grew up there. In 1960, he became the co-pastor with his father, until his assassination in 1968.

And of course, now Rev. Dr. Raphael Warnock presides as the senior pastor.

I wanted to be in that sacred place where history and hope now join hands in the wake of the historic vote
where the Dreamer and this most recent iteration of the Dream Come True mingles in the very air.

As I walked around, admiring the historic Ebenezer Baptist Church where both Rev. Kings served and marveling at the newer building across the street where Rev. Warnock holds forth, tears sprung to my eyes. I was so moved by the dedication of the Georgians, by Stacey Abrams who single-handedly, I believe, flipped the state to progress, by the countless volunteers, including from my congregation in Colorado Springs, who wrote postcards, sent texts, and made phone calls to Georgian voters encouraging them to vote.

Ironically, while I was there, both a Japanese media company and Telemundo interviewed me on what my hopes were with this election result. I said that with a Democrat-controlled House, Senate, and Presidency, we can begin the work of repairing the breaches, of undoing the four years of madness that has been the Trump regime. I said we can rejoin the Paris Accord, regulate industries, and save our public lands. I said, “A ‘triple blue’ is not a win for the Democrats; it’s a win for us all. We want to give the best health care available to Republicans, we want to ensure equal rights for the Republicans. With Democrats in power, everyone wins, because it’s not about power to the party, it’s about truly living into a government of the people, by the people, for the people.”

I met two volunteers who had come from California and from Massachusetts to do canvassing and election day oversight. And I met a couple from Atlanta who had also wanted to be in the sacred space to celebrate this great day.

And I left after a couple of hours, happy, hopeful, grateful for how democracy works. It’s fitting, I thought, that today is January 6^th, the Feast of the Epiphany in the Christian tradition. Commemorating when the magi, traditionally three men of color finally found their way to the toddler Jesus, after a long and arduous journey, bringing gifts to this manifestation of Love being the path, rather than power.