Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love.
I John 4: 7-8
Over the last two years, whenever I’ve been invited to speak at events or on podcasts, invariably I would be asked about the rise of Christian nationalism. A second question would follow: why aren’t other Christians doing more to present a compelling alternative?
Not wanting to reinforce the narrative of contempt that divides Americans into us vs. them, I would point out that Christians have always been represented across a broad spectrum of religious and political views. Moreover, I have too many friends across that spectrum to accept the notion that those with whom I might disagree hold extreme views and are of one mind. Yet I couldn’t deny that a troubling version of Christianity had come into ascendancy, and its voice was loud.
Thus I would say that those of us with an alternative Christian vision will not get our message across by becoming louder ourselves. What we offer is our example, how we live our lives and the values we not only profess, but strive to embody.
As the song goes, “They will know we are Christians by our love.”
God knows that we do not love perfectly. None of us is immune to the culture of contempt that conspires to keep our country divided and angry, suspicious of anyone who sees the world differently. But perhaps something has shifted with the midterm elections. Americans came together in record numbers and among other things, rejected cruelty, corruption, and contempt as the foundations of public life.
In my view, the election was less a blue wave in the partisan sense and more of what we might call a dignity wave, an insistence that our political leaders work together across their differences for the good of the nation. Many Americans dared to believe in what the Senator-elect from Texas described in his victory speech as “a politics of love.”
“Love your neighbor” is not a partisan statement, but an exhortation, even a commandment from God. It is an affirmation of faith, one that keeps us close to God and our need for grace. Because love in this sense is not easy. It’s not a feeling, but a commitment to work for the well-being of all people, alongside those with whom we strongly disagree.
Across the Diocese of Washington, many have been hit hard in the last two years, particularly those of you in our immigrant communities or whose employment in the federal government ended abruptly. Many of you have witnessed the dismantling or defunding of agencies to which you dedicated your lives. All those whose incomes were never high to begin with are struggling to keep up with rising costs.
Yet not all in the diocese have struggled in the past two years nor did we all vote alike, for we are not of one mind and never have been. Our differences, however, are not what define us as a diocese.
What I see is your love. You keep the candle of faith burning, with a quiet, firm witness to a way of following Jesus that strives to look like Jesus. You are a church in which immigrants are not only welcomed, but cherished and given leadership. You love and serve your neighbors, providing food, shelter, and places to gather. You show up when needed. You care fiercely about the things that matter and are willing to debate hard things. No matter your politics, you serve on the same vestries, receive the sacraments at the same altar, and pray for one another. You give generously, not only out of your abundance, but also in your poverty.
I am proud to serve as your bishop.
It would be naive to assume the road ahead will be easy, and for now, our day-to-day realities remain much the same. But being known by our love was never meant as a strategy for winning arguments or elections. It is the life to which Jesus calls us, on both good and hard days, when we are noticed and when we’re not, with those who share our views and those who don’t.
They will know that we are Christians by our love.