2024 Election

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

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.

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.

In Against Me!’s song “I Was a Teenage Anarchist,” Laura Jane Grace sings, “I was a teenage anarchist / But the politics were too convenient.” The song is a catchy tune that has stuck with me, even if I’ve outgrown the punk-rock-emo scene. But unlike Grace, I have not outgrown my anarchistic impulses.

Popularly, anarchy is associated with “chaos,” but I think of it more in terms of avant-garde jazz, where everyone is working together in their own unique way to create a sort of consensus.

So, when I recently heard of a new book focused entirely on the nexus between anarchism and Christianity, I had to investigate.