DAY THREE: “THE GOOD AMERICA”

JANUARY 22, 2025 – We’ve all experienced in life days of unsettled and unsettling weather, in which several decks of angry clouds sail overhead like massive fleets of warships plying the high seas. Driven on a mortal mission, they grant no reprieve from gloom and despair. At times the overhead seas darkens suddenly in portent of another cold rain shower, forcing us to scurry for cover. A cold windswept downpour ensues, but when it ends the gloom remains, and sharp gusts remind us that even when the storm abates, we inhabit a cold, often lonely, sometimes cruel world.

Yet, just then aligned breaks occur among the steaming battle-gray vessels. The surrounding cloud deck thins and brightens, and . . . Voila! A gateway to heaven appears. A patch of blue develops, and through the opening sunbeams complete their 93-million mile, eight-minute and 20-second high-speed chase to earth. In the moment, hope replaces gloom and despair, however dark the sky might remain in one corner or another. However fickle the clouds, wind and rain might be, this flash of hope allows us to carry on; to lean into the wind and with courage renewed, to widen our stride around the shivering puddles along our uneven way.

The image of such unsettled weather but with bursts of sunshine is how I felt when listening this evening to an extended thoughtful interview of Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde. She is the Episcopal prelate who presided over the televised national prayer service on Tuesday at the National Cathedral attended by Trump, his family and small group of insiders. At the service she (now famously) appealed directly to Trump for mercy on all the people who are in fear of his directives, namely immigrant families and  LGBTQ+ people. After two days of gloom and despair over what our country has done to itself, I felt as though we’d been granted a burst of sunlight bearing heaven-sent hope down to our current rugged, rocky place in history.

If you didn’t watch the interview, I encourage you to take a moment and do so: https://www.msnbc.com/rachel-maddow/watch/full-interview-rachel-maddow-talks-with-the-bishop-who-asked-trump-directly-to-show-mercy-230028869613. Before her role in Jimmy Carter’s funeral just two weeks prior, I’d never heard of Bishop Budde, though I’ve since learned that our life tracks have multiple parallels, the closest one being geographical: Before her election as Bishop of the Episcopal Washington Diocese in 2011, she served for 18 years as rector of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Minneapolis. Other parallels: She was born in New Jersey (so was my mother); her mother was a Swedish immigrant (my father’s mother was a Swedish immigrant); she is also very fond of music, as am I; and was a history major as an undergraduate, as was I. In the interview by Rachel Maddow, Bishop Budde came across as an eminently smart, humble, thoughtful, approachable, good-natured human being.

If you read her auto-biographical piece submitted in connection with that election, you’ll find that whatever your politics and however you feel about organized religion generally or Christianity in particular, Bishop Budde is a genuine agent of mercy and all that is good about our species—and our country. http://episcopalelections.com/elections/minnesota/nominees/BuddeBio.pdf .

There was no better messenger than she and no better setting than the national prayer service for delivery of the message that in the name of American decency had to be conveyed. In the event, it fell on deaf ears of the soulless, heartless creature to whom it was directed; a person without capacity for empathy and whose driving animus is an obsession with self. It’s hard to divine what effect Bishop Budde’s brave entreaty had on members of the Trump and Vance clans. The first lady allowed no more than her usual cold inscrutability, but the prelate’s stature—whether respected or despised, we cannot know—at least held Ms. Slovenia’s attention. Ivanka, her husband and the Trump sons sat fairly stone-faced, but summoned sufficient decorum to overcome displeasure and disapproval.  The Trump daughter other than Ivanka was less possessed of the displeasure projected by her father or the chiseled faces of the rest of her clan. Ostensibly unmoved by the purpose or gravity of the service, she appeared more interested in the trappings of her surroundings . . . the bright shiny objects on the altar, perhaps, or the Bishop’s vestments? Vice President Vance’s countenance seemed to reflect preoccupation with an inner calculation: “How will I comment on this in a way to show my loyalty to the king?” His wife appeared more receptive to the message but without any intention of approving it out loud except perhaps to her kids, in which case, if my pure speculation is correct, she should be given credit.

In his customary fashion, of course, Trump trashed the message and the messenger. No matter. His “brands,” not to mention his modi vivendi et operandi have never been anything but “crass,” “mean,” “nasty,” and above all, “EGOTISTICAL.”

What struck me about Bishop Budde’s appeal, delivered with direct eye contact from the pulpit to the self-declared King . . . of the Republic(ans) of Crass, Mean, Nasty, and Self . . . was that it was the voice of the other America; the America of Hope, Empathy, and Mercy—the good America. If the message was directed at Trump, it was meant for all of us of this good America. We who want to be of this good America, who want to see it thrive and prevail, must tie our minds, hearts, thoughts, and above all, our actions to the foundation blocks, the floor joists, the posts, the beams, the girders, the rafters—every solid structural element of the good America. We must seek out, encourage, and above all, emulate the Bishop Buddes among us. It’s the most we can do—and it’s a lot.

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© 2025 by Eric Nilsson