"The '2020 US Presidential election was unique in American history. It took place against the backdrop of the Covid-19 pandemic and nationwide riots sparked by the death of George Floyd. It was time of social unrest and division. Voters were faced with a choice between the incumbent Republican President Donald Trump and the Democratic nominee Joe Biden. When all the votes were counted, it was Biden who prevailed.

On the following Sunday our church doors were open for the regular schedule of Eucharists at 8:00 am and 10:00 am. People outside the church were talking about the election result. I noticed a lady entering church wearing a Biden cap. She wasn’t a regular churchgoer, but had chosen this Sunday to come to church, presumably to thank God for delivering victory to her preferred candidate. 

At the time I said nothing; I thought it all a bit of harmless eccentricity. I could have asked the lady to remove the cap but, as she was a stranger, I didn’t want to upset her. In church, we are told that “everyone is welcome”. I didn’t really think through the implications of having someone in church wearing a political message. 

This became apparent when, in the weeks following, I noticed the absence of a regular member of the congregation. This member had been present on the Sunday after election day but had not been back since. I called her on the phone to ask why. She said she was in church when the Biden cap lady came in, and had decided the church was no longer for her. I apologized and confirmed that our church is neutral in political matters. I offered to meet with her, but she said no. Her tone of voice was sad but resolute. 

I felt responsible for the loss of my parishioner. I realized it had been a mistake to allow the Biden supporter to advertise her victory in a place of worship. A week later I was on a Zoom call with clergy colleagues and recounted my story to them. I was looking for advice on how to regain the lost sheep of my flock. Was there anything I could say to change her mind? How could I persuade her to return? 

Nothing prepared me for my colleagues’ responses. One of them said, “Let her go”, and another followed up with, “Republicans have their own churches”. For a moment I was taken aback. I replied that we have obligations as priests to serve all of the flock, and cited the parable of the lost sheep. It was all to no effect. In their eyes, the “lost sheep” of my flock could stay lost, and good riddance too. People like her - Republicans - do not belong in church. 

It seems that, for some, allegiance to a political party mattered more than rescuing a soul for Christ. When I recall the conversation, I wonder at the unhesitating and unapologetic inversion of Christian ideals. In my training for the priesthood, there was always a clear focus on the work of serving the congregation and the wider community. The Church is for all people regardless of background, race or political belief. Our manual for parish life is the gospel, the life and teachings of Jesus Christ.

I recall another incident during the years of the Trump administration, when I took part in a clergy retreat organized by the Diocese. At one of the sessions, our retreat leader was lecturing us about the importance of loving one’s neighbor. At one point he made a negative aside about a Republican gubernatorial candidate. Most laughed and someone made a sign of the cross. Our lecturer responded “I always carry around an icon in case I meet her.”.

In the coffee break I challenged him. “Why are you demonizing her?” I asked. He seemed surprised by the question, but then replied, “Do you think she is redeemable?” I countered, “Is this present administration redeemable? Look, we can play this game all day. How does your remark help the situation?” He smiled and looked away in silence. It was clear he had no wish to continue the conversation. As I stood there, two things occurred to me. First, that for him this was not a game - he actually believed it. Second, in his mind, he had just encountered another irredeemable devil.

Anti-Republican bias from clergy is nothing new. During the Trump presidency, I regularly heard clergy condemn Trump from the pulpit. Another colleague shared her own story of hearing an Episcopal priest tell his congregation that all Republicans were going to hell. Members of another congregation refused to pray for the President during the Prayers of the People. 

This all seems a long way from Christianity. Making enemies of your political opponents is one thing, but condemning them to hell, using your authority as an ordained Christian minister, is quite another. This kind of unreflective attitude is known as “othering”, of finding an identity group - in this case, Republicans - to hate. Of course, its proponents would argue that they hold fast to the philosophy of “love your neighbor”, but only the one who votes Democrat. Jesus hates the other kind. 

In his opening sermon at the “All About Love” festival in July 2023, the presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church, Michael Curry said,

Let me tell you, it means—I’m going to get in trouble now; I blame the medicine—it means that if you are a Democrat, you’ve got to find a way to love a Republican. All right? And if you are a Republican, you’ve got to find a way to love a Democrat. 

The presiding bishop follows the teachings of Jesus by exhorting his flock to set aside their differences for the sake of love. It is telling, however, that he prefaces his remarks with, “I’m going to get into trouble now.” Why should he say that, unless it was because he was telling the Democrat-loving Christian assembly to love their enemies - the evil Republicans - instead? 

Despite pledging to unite the country in his inaugural address, President Biden described Republicans in 2022 as “semi-fascists”. Former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and others regularly compare Trump to Hitler. It’s easy to see why partisan priests would want to join in - who doesn’t want to take a stand against the Nazis? But this belief is predicated on the dangerous fantasy that the person who holds political views different from your own is somehow Satan. The truth is much simpler: Trump is not Hitler. Your Republican neighbor is not a Nazi. Presiding Bishop Curry did the right thing in reminding his flock to love their enemies. 

Since that Zoom meeting with my colleagues, I have been trying to understand why Christian leaders subsume their own Christian identity to that of a political party. It is not a new phenomenon. Churches often adopt or accommodate the platforms of political parties if they believe they share the same values. But a church which comprises members of only one political party is no longer a church, but a political organization. 

Bringing politics into Christianity is like setting a virus among it, encouraging congregations to think of themselves as “us” as opposed to “them”. The mistake that churches make is to assume that a political party’s agenda is advancing the kingdom of heaven. It never does, because when you mix religion and politics, you get politics. Politicians have their own agenda, often far from Jesus’ vision. 

In his book Up From Slavery: An Autobiography, Booker T. Washington writes, “I will permit no man to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate him.” The temptation to hate another derives from our sense of superiority over them. In turn, pressures to conform to the group ethic stifle the need to interrogate the basis of any shared animosity. And when hatred takes root in the Church, it leads to the eventual destruction of the Church and the betrayal of the Christian message.

Christianity is meant to be different. It does not judge people according to their grouping or identity, which is why many of the heroes in Jesus’ stories are outsiders: the Samaritan, the Syrophoenician, the Roman soldier. Christianity offers an alternative vision which draws upon, as Abraham Lincoln said, ”the better angels of our nature.” That means following Bishop Curry’s advice: we need to take the “medicine”, which is the gospel of Christ: “Love God, and love your neighbor as yourself”. If you think Jesus loves you and hates the other, then you have misunderstood the gospel. We sorely need Christians who act as Christ did, showing neither partiality nor favor to any group. It is only Christ, acting through us, who can heal our divisions and our relationships.

Father David