So today, let us celebrate. And tomorrow, let us organize. We are still in a battle for the soul of our nation, and for the soul of our faith. This election is not the finish line. It is the starting line. We now get to create the next chapter of American history together.
For Republicans and white Christians who feel like they would be losing something by not voting in line with the Republican party: more is at stake in the 2020 election than simple party loyalty. The moral rectitude of our nation and the spiritual integrity of our faith is at risk.
At noon on each day of the week prior to November 3rd—and each hour on the hour as Americans vote on Election Day—faith communities in all 50 states will ring bells from our houses of worship and on the sidewalks of our communities. These bells will toll for you, calling every American to march to the polls and protect voting rights.
Let not our hearts sink into anxiety and dread by the unceasing spin cycle of 24 hour news or the bread and circuses of the imperial intrigue. Instead . . .
I am concerned that, for all our brave talk of the Gospel, there is a part of us that is still tempted to find our own way toward the knowledge of good and evil, knowing better than God what is good for us (see Genesis 3). That there is a prideful instinct within us that assumes that we can, perhaps even have, designed the political system and philosophy that will lead us into the promised land of peace, prosperity, justice, and rest.
Invest your prayer, your money, your time, and your love in vulnerable people. Fight for disability rights and disability pride so expecting parents won’t be afraid after a diagnosis.
That should matter to Latinos especially as a community that is more collective than individualists. One that cares for family forever and where strangers become family over a cup of cafecito.
My family has stood up for independence from England, for civil rights, and against fascism. I come from people who fight for what we believe to be right. Now honestly, I never thought I would have to stand up against my own people.
Fred Martin pulled out his tongs, gripping a piece of red-hot steel, from the forge and turned to place it on the anvil. Camille Mays brought the hammer down, pounding methodically at the glowing metal: a shar...