A spiritual response to the elections: what matters to young people, our faith and the future

I don’t know where to begin – not because I have nothing to say, but because there is too much and anything I say will be insufficient.

Do I start with the young woman who cries after class and wants to know what she can do? How can she connect with others whose hearts are also breaking? Or do I start with the night before, when, as the votes are counted, I hold my rosary and pray myself into a fitful sleep? Or maybe I should start a few years ago, when an undocumented teenager going through the ritual of Christian initiation of adults asked me to be their godparent? I love that child so much. Or perhaps 18 years earlier, when another idealistic undocumented young man walked into my brand new faculty office to tell me his story, fueling my work to develop resources for undocumented students and their families. Or maybe I should start my conversation with Pope Francis a month ago in a room in the Vatican? No, not there; I will reflect on that moment in my heart, especially the deep sadness in his eyes.

I have no interest in repeating this election. I believe it will take years for an analysis of what happened to be resolved. We may never understand how we got here, especially since history is written (and purified) by the winners. But as a person in the ministry of theological education and advocacy for the vulnerable, I have three immediate concerns: What are our young people learning? What are we as people of faith going to do to actively alleviate suffering? And finally: what about the future?

Who are we?

For now, our young people have learned that we live in a reality where there is no “us.” This is a destabilizing space we have to exist in as young people, and we must soberly acknowledge this truth. The young of most species learn from adults first, and as they reach adolescence they prioritize learning from their peers. Humans, like many of our fellow creatures, are naturally social. Yet we have just witnessed a catastrophic unraveling of our social fabric. Our young people are learning (and perhaps will teach each other) that insults, ambition, bigotry and misogyny win in the end. Through words and actions, they are taught that the most fundamental of all Christian beliefs—that God is love and that we are to care for all of God’s creation—can be trampled without consequence in the pursuit of self-interest. They have witnessed that those who seek reconciliation and prioritize the dignity of others will be mocked and defeated. They have seen firsthand that behavior that is not tolerated in most homes can be put on full display, applauded and encouraged. It often seems that the only value that survives today is the false glitter of wealth and power, and the permission to use any means necessary to get there.

We’ve been here before

The history of Christianity is full of times when we chose thrones instead of the Beatitudes. The pursuit of profit and power is not a victimless crime. The limitless pursuit of profit requires a ruthless disregard for the needs of others, and power makes this possible. The United States has told itself many stories about its innocence and glory; none of them are entirely true. Is it any wonder that we can no longer recognize lies? One of the most difficult things the early church had to do, which we see clearly in Paul’s writings and in Acts, was to publicly grapple with errors and untruths. The early Christians had to deal with power struggles, manipulation, deception and division and they did so by addressing this and pointing back to the promises that Jesus came to fulfill. There was another way to be human, another way to care for creation, another way to honor God’s dreams. The prophets had been crying out for generations asking for repentance and repentance. Sometimes their voices were heard; many more times they were silenced. What is happening now in the United States will impact our entire planet for generations, not just this country.

Shall we remain silent?

None of us can predict how many of the threats made during this campaign will be carried out by the new administration, but we must take the possibility seriously. We have been told of plans to deport immigrants en masse and violently, to end programs that support the poor, to dismantle public education, to ban education about our difficult history, and to continue to burn our planet to feed all our materialistic vices. . Prediction is folly; preparation, on the other hand, is the work of the wise.

It no longer matters how we voted or not voted. What matters is what happens from now on. Our parishes, schools and neighborhoods must prepare for difficult times. In particular, we must advocate for our immigrant brothers and sisters. We anticipate the forced separation of parents and children. We must do the heartbreaking work of preparing documents that transfer the care of children to sympathetic neighbors and friends. Our small businesses and farms must be prepared for repeated robberies; that mothers and fathers, brothers and friends, disappear, and widespread economic hardship spreads as crops rot and essential work goes unfilled. We will have to feed each other. We must prepare for the loss of health care and other safety nets for our elderly and sick. We will have to come together to bind each other’s wounds. Our schools, universities and libraries can become targets; our books can be banned and our journalists imprisoned. We will have to teach each other to remember what is true.

None of this is theoretical to me. As a small child in Cuba, I have already witnessed the disintegration of a country’s society. This desolate feeling is too painfully familiar. In my extended family, we have had to flee multiple times from multiple places. When she died, my mother-in-law had already experienced being displaced and seeking refuge twice in her life; Tragically, this also applies to my 91-year-old father.

What about the future?

Despite the outcome of this election, I still believe what I told my children: the world is full of good people ready to do the right thing. The future must nurture that innate goodness, bring us together and help us reorient ourselves in life-giving ways. To do this, we will have to face what is broken and come up with new ways to heal.

Let’s focus on abundance. Abundance is very different from prosperity. Abundance means there is enough for all of us if we just learn to share. It is the multiplication of loaves and fishes, and no one goes hungry. This requires generosity and turning the focus from ourselves to the needs of others.

Let’s overcome fear. The unfounded fear of strangers and their behavior masks our real fear, which is that we will lose power and influence. The fear of our vulnerability fuels racism, sexism, nationalism and all attitudes that build walls, drop bombs and humiliate the weak. The “mighty men” of this world are the absolute antithesis of Christ on the cross; they sit in ornate palaces and watch their cities burn as they divide the world.

There is a lot of work to do. The government of God groans under the weight of human selfishness. Only its complete opposite – generosity that supports one’s neighbor, grounded in love – can set it free.