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Herod Goes to the National Cathedral and is Disappointed

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The Right Reverend Mariann Edgar Budde, Episcopal Bishop of Washington DC

It was amusing to me to hear Trump’s reaction to the service at the National Cathedral on January 21st. I’ve been a pastor for a long time, and heard many opinions offered about the quality (or lack thereof) of the services I’ve designed and led and the sermons I’ve given. To me, Trump’s reaction says a lot more about him than it does about Episcopal Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde.

To start things off, here’s the printed program [pdf] prepared for those who attended the service. (You can watch the video of the service on the Cathedral’s YouTube channel here.) Notice the title on the front cover: “A Service of Prayer for the Nation.” Notice what isn’t on the front cover? Two words: Donald Trump. The message is clear, right from the start – this isn’t a celebration of Trump, like the inaugural balls or the rally at the Capital One arena. This is a service for the nation.

Not for “the citizens of” the nation.
Not for “the taxpayers of” the nation.
Not for “the leaders of” the nation.
This was a service for the nation – the *whole* nation.

Trump can attend, but it’s not about him or for him. It’s a service for the nation.

It’s also a service of prayer, and as I browse through the program, I can’t help but see the *whole* nation raised up again and again and again.

The pre-service music is an eclectic mix. The carillon selections are largely American composers, pairing old composers with 20th and 21st century arrangers. Two of the compositions are by anonymous composers, whose names have been lost to history while their music has not. The four organ selections are by two Lutherans (Bach and Buxtehude) and two Jews (Fanny Mendelssohn and her younger brother Felix). Bach and the Mendelssohns were German, and Buxtehude’s roots are more complicated because of the changing borders of Denmark, Sweden, and northern Germany at the time he was born. The brass selections come from three great composers from three nations: John Rutter (England), Anton Dvorak (the Czech Republic), and Aaron Copland (one of the greatest American composers). The pre-service music concluded with five choral pieces, each of which has deep roots in American religious life. These selections set the tone: this is a service for all the nation, with a mix of instruments, a mix of composers, and music with a mix of ethnic and religious roots that befit the mixed and diverse roots of the nation.

The Entrance Rite began with words from Jesus in Mark 17: “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all people.” Note those last two words: all people. Not a few, not some, not many, but *all* people. After a blessing from the traditions of the First Americans, the indigenous people who were here long before the Mayflower and Jamestown; long before Cortez, Pizarro, Balboa, and Ponce de Leon; long before Columbus and long before the Norse; the opening hymn by Fred Kaan was sung by all who are present in this moment, beginning like this:

For the healing of the nations, God, we pray with one accord;
for a just and equal sharing of the things that earth affords;
to a life of love in action help us rise and pledge our word.

I can imagine that a beginning like this put Trump in a pickle. “It’s all woke crap” he must have been thinking. “When will we get to the acclamation of my win in the election? When will we get to their acknowledgment of my power, my success, my victory? When are we going to get to the praise of me?” Spoiler alert: Never, never, and never. Because this service was never going to be about Trump, and I’m sure that never even dawned on him as he arrived at the National Cathedral.

But back to the hymn.

Lead us forward into freedom; from despair your world release,
that, redeemed from war and hatred, all may come and go in peace.
Show us how through care and goodness fear will die and hope increase.

In the context of Trump’s campaign, and the even closer context of Trump’s post-election announcements of his plans for the first hours and days of his administration, these words are a respectful yet powerful rebuke. Kaan is quite clear: the vision of the God to whom this prayer is addressed is One who prizes justice, equality, love, freedom, peace, care of others, goodness, and finally hope. This God is likewise dedicated to the end of slavery, despair, war, hatred, and most of all, fear. That last list is Trump’s go-to list, and Kaan named and condemned it out loud, in no uncertain terms, in four part harmony.

But Kaan was not done.

All that kills abundant living, let it from the earth be banned;
pride of status, race, or schooling, dogmas that obscure your plan.
In our common quest for justice may we hallow life’s brief span.

I knew Fred Kaan, whose early life was shaped by his family’s work in the Dutch resistance to the Nazis during World War II. He knew, firsthand, the ugliness of life under leaders who prize race and status, who punish and kill those who are Not Like Us. That first word – All! – leaps out with power, this time aimed at each and every power that divides, diminishes, and kills the abundant life God intends for all people.  These are words of resistance, written by one who (along with his family) lived a life of resistance during WWII. These are words offering hope to those unwilling to sell their souls to MAGA and Trump, and sending a shiver through Trump and JD Vance if they were paying attention.

And Kaan is still not done, as he ties up this hymn with one last broadside against the MAGA Un-Gospel:

You, Creator God, have written your great name on humankind;
for our growing in your likeness bring the life of Christ to mind
that by our response and service earth its destiny may find.

Those who pray this prayer — who sing this song — are not praying to shut refugees seeking safety out of the country. They are not praying to round up those who lack the right paperwork to live here, put them in detention camps, and shove them elsewhere. They are not praying to celebrate the exceptionalness of one race or nation or person above the rest of humanity. They are not praying to sit back in comfortable wealth and luxury, leaving it to the poor and needy to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps.

In one short hymn, the entire inaugural address that Trump gave the day before was ripped apart, using the voices that come from the throats of everyone sitting around him. His entire campaign message was challenged and opposed, by every voice that rang to the vaulted ceiling and was broadcast out to the world. Kaan died in 2009, but this hymn sounds as if it could have been written last week. And Trump had to sit there and take it, with all the cameras rolling.

Worst of all for Trump, this was but the beginning of the service.

I’m not going to go through the rest of the service in this kind of detail – you can do that for yourself. There were prayers offered by folks from all kinds of religious traditions – Christians of various denominations, as well as Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, and Sikh leaders. These prayers were filled with words like “all” and “every” to paint a picture of our common life together. In the “prayers for all who govern,” the first petition was not for President Trump, but for “all the peoples of the earth,” and moved more narrowly to “the people of our nation” meaning all the people. In the “prayers for those who serve,” the petitions were offered for those in the armed forces and the diplomatic corps, for all civil servants that “they serve with integrity and compassion, without prejudice or partiality to better their communities and the nation,” for all teachers and educators, for all first responders, and critically at the end, “all the people of our land.” In the “prayers for the peoples of this nation,” Methodist Bishop LaTrelle Easterling opened them like this: “O God, whom we cannot love unless we love our neighbor, let us pray for the most vulnerable in our community and lead us to be present with them in their suffering.” This was followed by petitions of specific and vivid mention of those who are most vulnerable.

All this is what led up to the sermon by the Right Reverend Mariann Edgar Budde that garnered such attention in the media and such opprobrium from Trump. He tried to personalize it, demanding an apology from her, but far from her being some isolated voice standing up to him, or some he said/she said debate, Budde was speaking out of the deep religious traditions of a very diverse nation:

In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country.

We’re scared now. The people who pick our crops and clean our office buildings, who labor in poultry farms and meatpacking plants, who wash the dishes after we eat in restaurants and work the night shifts in hospitals.

They may not be citizens or have the proper documentation, but the vast majority of immigrants are not criminals. They pay taxes, and are good neighbors. They are faithful members of our churches and mosques, synagogues, gurdwara, and temples.

I ask you to have mercy, Mr. President, on those in our communities whose children fear that their parents will be taken away, and that you help those who are fleeing war zones and persecution in their own lands to find compassion and welcome here.

This now-famous plea directed specifically to President Trump, offered in a quiet and measured words, was not a one-off. In that plea, she summed up and made plain the implications of Kaan’s opening hymn, the words of the prayers offered throughout the whole service, and everything that took place in the 90 minutes before she took her place in the pulpit and began to speak. If Trump was waiting for the service to finally turn to him, this plea is when it happened — and it pissed him off.

What Budde did, in all humility and in all power, was to name Trump for what he is: one of us, with specific powers and abilities to directly shape life for all the people of the country, and indirectly for the world. Note, though, that what she pleaded for from Trump was of a piece with all the music and prayers, calling on every one of us to use our own far smaller powers and abilities to shape life for all the people in our orbit for the better, as small as our powers may be compared with the powers wielded by Trump.

That, perhaps, is what most put Trump out of joint. She was saying to him “Your title may be fancier, your staff may be grander, cameras may follow your every movement, and microphones strain to catch your every word, but in the end, you share the same task as the lowliest person who cleans hotel rooms, who labors to pick crops and build homes and process poultry while undocumented. You are One of Us, no more special and no less special, no matter how much you long for it to be otherwise.”

I’ve preached to congregations that have included mayors and city officials. I’ve preached to state legislators, state executive branch officials, and state supreme court justices. I’ve preached in services attended by a presidential candidate (Illinois Senator Paul Simon). One thing that has sustained me in those settings, and given me the strength to say what needs to be said, is the strong sense of being surrounded by the voices of the ancestors, preaching this same good news to them that I preach to the lowliest and most marginalized- that all that God has made is good, and all deserve support and care and love from each other.

Several years ago, on the eve of the first anniversary of January 6th, I compared Trump with King Herod who tried to use the wise men so he could kill the infant born to be the Messiah, and I used not simply the account from the Gospel of Matthew but also the retelling of the story by James Taylor in his song “Home By Another Way. Here, in part, is what I wrote that day:

But Taylor isn’t singing just to retell the story of what happened back then. He’s preaching, in his own way, drawing his listeners into the song and changing us here today:

Well it pleasures me to be here
And to sing this song tonight
They tell me that life is a miracle
And I figure that they’re right
But Herod’s always out there
He’s got our cards on file
It’s a lead pipe cinch
If we give an inch
That Herod likes to take a mile

It’s best to go home by another way
Home by another way
We got this far to a lucky star
But tomorrow is another day
We can make it another way
“Safe home!” as they used to say
Keep a weather eye to the chart up high
And go home another way

Yes, Herod *is* always out there, looking to game the system and rape the system and break the system if that’s what it takes to keep himself in power.

But there is also always another way, a way that leaves Herod and his successors powerless and impotent.

My description of Herod’s/Trump’s way came back to mind with a crash on the 20th, as word of all those initial executive orders came tumbling out. Saying Trump is “looking to game the system and rape the system and break the system if that’s what it takes” back then seems frighteningly prescient today.

But like the wise men of old, Bishop Budde knows another way, as do all those who planned this most powerful service, and as did Fred Kaan. In JT’s words, in the face of Trump’s blizzard of executive orders which are designed to take and take and take some more from the most vulnerable among us, Budde didn’t give an inch. Instead, she stood in the path of our American Herod along with a host of others, naming that other way home.

And here’s the really really good news, that would scare Trump even more if he were to think about it: you don’t have to be a bishop to name Herod for who he is, to call out his ways of fear and death, and to lift up our neighbors. That’s what the wise men did, in going home by another way. They protected a poor, vulnerable refugee-to-be from a vengeful tyrant who feared for his own power. And that’s what each of us can do, wherever we are: name Trump’s way as the path of division, destruction, and death, and point to another way.

Because JT was right: it’s best to go home by another way.

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Greg Abbott, King Herod, and December 28th

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James Taylor in Concert (h/t photographer Elizabeth Warren. Yes, that Elizabeth Warren)

Last January 5th, I wrote a post about a James Taylor song, “Home By Another Way,” which retells the story of the Magi and their interactions with King Herod. (OK, it wasn’t *only* about old King Herod and the old Magi, but at least as much about their modern heirs.) According to Matthew’s gospel, the wise men first came to King Herod, asking where to find this new king, and Herod tried to turn the wise men into unwitting spies. “Look in Bethlehem,” he told them, “and when you find this new king, let me know so that I can worship him as well.”

Riiiiiight.

The wise men, says Matthew, were warned in a dream about Herod and his deceit, and so they “went home by another way” (thus the title of JT’s song) to avoid going back to Herod.

That’s actually only half of the story, December 28th is the day in the liturgical calendar where the second half of that story gets told. Spoiler alert: it is *not* pretty.  From Matthew, with emphasis added:

Now after [the wise men] had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.”

When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:

“A voice was heard in Ramah,
wailing and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”

Let that sink in for a minute. According to Matthew’s Christmas story, Joseph took Mary and the newborn Jesus and fled their home country out of fear for their lives. In other words, Jesus and his parents were asylum-seeking refugees.

Which brings me to Greg Abbott. From the Washington Post:

Three buses full of migrants arrived at Vice President Harris’s residence in Washington from Texas on Christmas Eve amid bitingly cold weather, a mutual aid group said, the latest in an influx of newcomers sent to the Northeast by Southern states.

About 110 to 130 men, women and children got off the buses outside the Naval Observatory on Saturday night in 18-degree weather after a two-day journey from South Texas, according to the Migrant Solidarity Mutual Aid Network. On the coldest Christmas Eve day on record in the District, some migrants were bundled up in blankets as they were greeted by volunteers who had received word that Texas Gov. Greg Abbott (R) had sent the caravan.

Volunteers scrambled to meet the asylum seekers after the buses, which were scheduled to arrive in New York on Christmas Day, were rerouted due to the winter weather. In a hastily arranged welcoming, a church on Capitol Hill agreed to temporarily shelter the group while one of the mutual aid groups, SAMU First Response, arranged 150 breakfasts, lunches and dinners by the restaurant chain Sardis.

Greg Abbott takes refugees fleeing for their lives and ships them into the teeth of a horrible winter storm, without warning, without proper clothing, and without any plans for what happens when they arrive. On Christmas Eve, of all times. “Look how tough I am!”

Thank God Greg Abbott wasn’t ruling in Egypt when Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were fleeing for their lives.

On the liturgical calendar, December 28th is called “The Slaughter of the Innocents,” to which JT’s song gives a nod:

Steer clear of royal welcomes
Avoid a big to-do
A king who would slaughter the innocents
Will not cut a deal for you
He really, really wants those presents
He’ll comb your camel’s fur
Until his boys announce
They’ve found trace amounts
Of your frankincense, gold and myrrh.

To be clear: these asylum-seekers were fleeing from the very real King Herods in various Central American countries, who posed very real threats to their own lives. But when they reached Texas, Florida, and Arizona, Greg Abbott, Ron DeSantis, and Doug Ducey acted like little Herods themselves, rather than following the example of the unnamed Egyptian leader in Matthew’s story. They really, really want that oval office, and they’ll do whatever they think will preserve their political power now and put them on a path to accumulating more power down the road. Who cares how many people have to die, right?

Once upon a time, the GOP was a party that billed itself as Christian. Today, apparently, not so much.

If you’d like a different vision of how Christians respond to refugees, let me direct you to Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service (emphasis in the original):

Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service (LIRS) is the largest faith-based nonprofit dedicated to serving vulnerable immigrants, asylum seekers and refugees in the U.S. Simply put, we resettle refugees, reunite children and parents, and rekindle the American Dream. 

For more than 80 years, LIRS has been a champion for migrants and refugees from around the globe. Our legacy of compassionate service has made a difference in the lives of more than 500,000 people who have sought safety and hope in America’s communities. Our history reflects our own deep immigrant roots and passionate commitment to welcoming newcomers, especially those who are most in need.

Three words for today, and — spoiler alert — one of these voices is not like the others:

LIRS:

“When I was a stranger, you welcomed me.” Rooted in faith, LIRS believes that we are called to welcome those fleeing persecution and seeking refuge in the United States.

SAMU First Response:

Given the migration crisis at our nation’s capital, SAMU First Response is delivering humanitarian assistance to asylum seekers arriving from Texas and Arizona. We are providing respite care to the children, women and men arriving to Washington, DC. Our support to these migrants aims to reinstate a sense of security and dignity so they can continue their journey.

Greg Abbott: What do you mean by “welcome” and “humanitarian”?

Happy Slaughter of the Innocents Day, sponsored this year by the Office of the Governor of Texas. In his honor, might I suggest donations be made to LIRS and SAMU First Response?

Sing it again, Brother James!

 

 

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James Taylor, King Herod, and January 6th

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James Taylor in Concert (h/t photographer Elizabeth Warren. Yes, that Elizabeth Warren. [CC BY 2.0])

Back in 1988, musical storyteller James Taylor put out an album entitled “Home By Another Way.” “Never Die Young.” The song “Home By Another Way” from that album is one of my favorites, and is built around the story of the Magi, celebrated on the liturgical calendar of the Christian Church on January 6th as the Festival of the Epiphany. As JT properly observes, the story told by Matthew’s gospel is less about the Magi meeting Jesus and more about another meeting they had. Here’s how Matthew put it:

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.’” Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.”

There is no way that Herod’s words to the Magi were anything but a ruse, and anyone hearing this story back in the day knew it. Herod the Great was a feared figure, having risen to power through his father’s political connections with Julius Caesar. In the time-honored tradition of despots everywhere, he was ruthless to those below him that he viewed as potential threats to his wealth and power (i.e., all the locals), and relentlessly sucked up to those above him (i.e., Rome). This combination led the Senate of Rome to appoint him “King of the Jews” and he held fast to that title for almost four decades by employing domestic spies to sniff our plots against him, a massive bodyguard to protect him, and whatever bloodthirsty tactics he deemed necessary to keep him in power.

Herod the Great was succeeded not by his eldest son, but by his most ruthless son, known as Herod Antipas. Antipas clearly followed in his father’s footsteps, in that he had his two older brothers convicted of treason and executed, thanks to a kangaroo court over which he presided. Antipas went his father one better by ditching his first wife for a second one – his own niece, Herodias. The Herodians were also very big on self-promotion via large, splashy building projects using someone else’s money. There’s much more like this to the Herodian family history, as they all were a real piece of work.

James Taylor understands Herod very well, and offers a warning to the Magi and all who will listen:

Steer clear of royal welcomes
Avoid a big to-do
A king who would slaughter the innocents
Will not cut a deal for you
He really, really wants those presents
He’ll comb your camel’s fur
Until his boys announce
They’ve found trace amounts
Of your frankincense, gold and myrrh.

Not a nice guy, this Herod fellow.

As Matthew tells the story, the Magi understood this as well, and decided not to go back to Herod after visiting Jesus:

When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

In JT’s telling, the Magi “went home by another way.” But Taylor isn’t singing just to retell the story of what happened back then. He’s preaching, in his own way, drawing his listeners into the song and changing us here today:

Well it pleasures me to be here
And to sing this song tonight
They tell me that life is a miracle
And I figure that they’re right
But Herod’s always out there
He’s got our cards on file
It’s a lead pipe cinch
If we give an inch
That Herod likes to take a mile

It’s best to go home by another way
Home by another way
We got this far to a lucky star
But tomorrow is another day
We can make it another way
“Safe home!” as they used to say
Keep a weather eye to the chart up high
And go home another way

Yes, Herod *is* always out there, looking to game the system and rape the system and break the system if that’s what it takes to keep himself in power.

But there is also always another way, a way that leaves Herod and his successors powerless and impotent.

The way of Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela, of Hugh Masekela, Miriam Makeba, and Ladysmith Black Mambazo.
The way of Ella Baker and John Lewis, of Robert Graetz and Jeannie Graetz.
The way of Ida B. Wells and Upton Sinclair, of Harvey Milk, Del Martin, and Phyllis Lyon
The way of the Flirtations and Sweet Honey in the Rock, of the Weavers and John McCutcheon.

Tomorrow is January 6th, and I’ll read this story from Matthew again in my study first thing in the morning. Then I’ll pull up this song and listen to the wisdom of James Taylor, urging *us* to go home by another way — a way of justice and peace, a way of hope and love.

Brother James, if you’d take the lead, it’s time to sing . . . and you all are invited to sing along.

Updated to correct the album title. Thanks, @RyanCaseyWA, for pointing it out.