A few weeks ago there was a thread on /r/christianity that asked its readers whether they felt that they had ever been visited by an angel without knowing it. There have certainly been a number of times in my life where I have felt, at the very least, that I had met the exact right person at the exact right time, but none more so than a young man that I met one night almost 15 years ago.

I've only recently started telling this story to anyone, and even many of you who are close to me may not know this, but one night, back when I was 12, a friend and I were beaten up for being white. We were walking back to his house after visiting a mutual friend, and it had started to get dark. As we walked along, we saw a small group of black teenagers having a conversation on the sidewalk. We didn't really think anything of it, and kept on walking and talking to each other. As we got close, the group decided to move and block our path. They started laughing at us, calling us names, and refused to move aside and allow us to pass. We attempted to cross the street and find another way to get where we were going, but the group decided to follow us, and when they saw that there were no other people around they attacked us, beat us, and called us all manner of racial slurs as we attempted to flee. I was bigger than my friend, and tried to take the brunt of the blows myself, but they made sure to spread them out between the two of us. Eventually we made it to a brighter area with a major street, and they finally relented and ran off. It was an incredibly harrowing experience, and one that I wouldn't wish on anyone.

To my surprise - and incredible fortune - we actually made it through the incident fairly unscathed. My parents took me to the hospital, but I turned out to just have a bruise or two; nothing too serious. Looking back on it, I don't think they really wanted to hurt us, or had anything against us personally. I've made it through my adolescence now, and I understand how turbulent those feelings can be, and can only imagine how it must feel to be a black adolescent in America, and experience the habitual and institutional racism that they do. They were angry, we were there, and we symbolized everything they were angry about.

Far more worrying than any physical harm they may have done was the potential psychological harm. Remember, I was just 12 years old, and I was scared. I was worried that it might happen again; that another black person might attack me for the color of my skin.

Not more than two weeks later I was walking alone along the edge of a park in my own neighborhood, and again it had started to get dark. Up ahead I saw a lone black teenager walking toward me on the sidewalk. He appeared, I think it is fair to say, to be the culmination of every stereotype there is: he was wearing baggy clothing, a large black jacket, nice well-kept sneakers, and a beanie, and he walked with a bit of a swagger. I'm fairly sure he even had a few gold chains around his neck (though my mind may be exaggerating the story just a little bit).

Just an aside, to be ultra fair, I was a walking stereotype myself, ha ha! As you imagine him, I want you to also imagine me as the epitome of the chubby white nerd.

Anyway I saw him walking toward me, and I felt myself tense up. I started thinking about perhaps turning around, or crossing to the other side of the street. I was worried about what might happen. I was afraid of him. I could have done any of those things, but in that moment I told myself that everything would be fine, and I kept walking, my heart pounding in my chest.

Just before we passed each other, I watched this young man stick his hand out, palm up, facing me. We made eye contact, and he just sort of looked at me expectantly, without saying a word. I realized what was going on, and stuck my hand out just in time. He took my hand, gave me a brief but firm handshake, nodded at me, and went on his way.

In that moment, all of my fear and anxiety just melted away. I understood, fully, that what had happened to me had been the action of a few individuals; that it was not reflective of the whole. I cannot possibly tell you how grateful I am to that stranger.

It's easy to see how the first incident might easily have turned me into a racist. I could have allowed it to confirm the stereotypes that I had been fed by TV news, and withdrawn myself in fear of people who were different from me. If I hadn't already been fortunate enough to have parents that raised me to respect and honor human diversity, I may well have been lost before that man even came along. Instead, here I am, an advocate for love, equity, and the dignity for all people. If I have entertained angels without knowing it, certainly that man was one of them.

Alright, before you say "no" just hear me out real quick, I promise that it will be thought-provoking. 

There has been a lot of speculation about the institutions and traditions that may be left in an irredeemable state after the train wreck of a campaign that Donald Trump has run. Certainly I would say that unless the Republican Party acts quickly to distance themselves from the man - which many in the party already are working to do, of course - his campaign may destroy any chance they have of glimpsing the presidency again without significant restructuring. In fact, no less prominent a figure than president George W. Bush said he was worried that he would be "the last Republican president".

Trump's campaign may also herald at the very least a restructuring of the way presidential campaigns are covered by the media. The major televised news coverage of this campaign has been an absolute clown show that appears to be visibly crushing the spirits of any legitimate journalist who comes near to it. The unwillingness of reporters to call out blatant lies out of fear that they will be accused of bias is unsustainable, irresponsible, and when it comes to Donald Trump perhaps even unethical.

His campaign may also thankfully cause irreparable harm to previously underground hate groups that felt this was their time to make a move and go public. Donald Trump will now almost certainly be defeated, and the racist, jingoist militant groups lurking in the shadows of American society have been brought into the light before they can accomplish their goals. I see this as a positive, in the long run, and a major blow to the ultra-right.

But I'm interested today in the possible ramifications of Trump's candidacy on an institution that has not really been discussed in depth this election: the "Christian right", and the "Moral Majority". Since the 1940s - and more blatantly since the great abortion debate of the 1970s - American evangelicals and conservative Catholics have enjoyed an uneasy alliance that has formed the backbone of the Republican Party's membership and voting population. Members of the Christian Right are primarily united over a select number of social issues, like abortion, stem cell research, traditional family structures and sexuality, etc. and over time conservative economic models and the like have been woven into the fabric of their platform. 

The Christian Right voting bloc has proven to be very influential, representing as it does a large sub-section of the American people. Indeed, being a good evangelical Christian in America has become synonymous with voting Republican. In all that time the Republican Party candidate for president, and pretty much any office really, has had to be a conservative Christian. And, for the most part, even when I have vehemently disagreed with their economic positions or their proposed solutions to social ills, I have at least been able on some level to respect their faith and conviction. When George Bush, or John McCain, or many others have said that they are faithful Christians, I have done them the service of taking them at their word.

​But that foundation has been showing pretty significant and growing cracks for some time now. The necessary binding of conservative Christian ideals to secular conservative ideals has necessarily led supposedly good, "pro-life" Christians to support the death penalty, to deny equal treatment to minorities, to support disastrous imperialist wars and the torturing of prisoners, and to advocate mass gun ownership and self-defense even though Christ said plainly "Do not resist the one who does evil, but when someone strikes you upon one cheek turn and offer them the other also" -Matthew 5:39. I thought perhaps it might all come apart when Mitt Romney became the strongest available presidential candidate from the Republican Party. I wasn't sure how the Religious Right would react to a Mormon candidate, but they did largely decide to get behind him in the end. It helped that he was a legitimate conservative and reasonably good person.

This last year, I have looked around and seen nothing but monsters on the right. Everywhere I have turned I have seen despicable individuals that are clearly just paying lip service to any real Christianity, and who merely have to say in a speech that they are against abortion and they will have throngs of adoring voters, even if there is clear evidence that they are corrupt, greedy liars who will say anything to get elected. I am reminded of Penn Jillette who said in a Big Think video "I have tried with friends to say the most blasphemous sentence I can possibly say, and it does not come close to the blasphemy of Michelle Bachman saying that earthquakes and hurricanes where the way God was trying to get the attention of Politicians."

​Which brings me at last to Donald Trump, because Donald Trump is the epitome of all that Christianity is against. We have come to a point where the vast majority of the Christian Right, who believe that voting for the Republican candidate for president is an exercise of their faith, will be voting for a greedy, manipulative, vengeful, wrathful, tax-dodging, lying, racist, jingoist, megalomaniacal demagogue and serial adulterer who has defrauded thousands of employees, students, and business people, sexually assaulted dozens of women, encouraged foreign entities to commit cyber crimes against the US, and quite possibly raped children (seriously). None of that is an exaggeration, and is just a partial list of his crimes against God and humanity. If there is such a thing as an anti-Christ, it is Donald Trump. It is absolutely unconscionable to vote for Donald Trump, and I feel doing so may finally expose the Christian Right for what it is: a diseased, corrupted institution benefiting from the rote routine following of otherwise good and faithful people who simply have not been able to see it yet.

Oh, and Happy All Saints' Day :/

May God bring a swift and peaceful end to this election.

Whew! Wow, jeeze, this whole blogging regularly thing sure worked out, huh? Ha ha! Oh well, I've been fighting off serious infections on top of my work load and all that, so I'm not guilty :) 

Sit back folks, and grab some water. This is going to be a long one.

So, for about 4 years now I've been thinking about a subject that I think is incredibly important. Back in 2010, during my own, personal prayers one day, it suddenly struck me that there was something that I, my parish, the Episcopal Church, and much of Western Christendom seemed to be neglecting, something that Jesus expressly commanded his followers to do that we were not doing. 

You see, in the gospel accounts of Jesus' ministry, one finds what may seem to be a surprisingly small number of direct commandments given by Jesus to his followers. We know that the Lord often preferred to speak in parables, providing complex metaphors about the Kingdom of God and how we ought to live our lives in preparation for it. These parables tend to require the Christian to think critically about their meaning and allow us both to navigate situations that may be morally ambiguous, and learn something new upon each encounter with them. The direct commandments that Jesus does give in the gospels form the solid foundation of the Christian faith, a foundation which sets the Church apart from the ways of the flesh that kept us shackled to sin before the coming of our redemption.

It was in this sudden moment of clarity that I thought on the words of Jesus from the iconic Sermon on the Mount: "Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you" -Matthew 5:44. Such a simple command, and one that we were not following at all in our public worship, and that I had made no concerted effort to follow on my own. Aside from one optional petition in one of six different forms of the Prayers of the People, the Book of Common Prayer was extraordinarily lacking in prayers for our enemies and those who persecute us.

At the time I was unsure of what to do about this realization, but I knew that something had to change. In 2011, when the United States Navy successfully carried out a mission that resulted in the death of Osama bin Laden, I was filled with a fascinating mixture of relief, knowing that he would not be able to hurt anyone else, and sorrow, that it took violence to stop violence, and even then the reprieve could only ever be temporary.

By some great luck, grace, and no small amount of serendipity, I found myself scheduled to be the intercessor on the Sunday immediately following the man's death. For that morning I had been assigned Form II of the prayers of the people. (For those who are unfamiliar with the form, I highly recommend giving it a look http://www.bcponline.org/HE/pop.htm#Form II ) I particularly like Form II because, unlike the other forms which somewhat passively state our petitions, Form II makes demands of the congregation to pray for very specific things.

When I had reached a point that I thought would be appropriate, right then and there I made something up. I asked the congregation to pray for the cruel, the unjust, the vengeful, and all those who wish us harm. I asked that they pray for those people to be moved, to experience the love of God and turn away from their anger, hatred, and violence. And I asked them to pray for the repose of the soul of Osama bin Laden, that he might find peace in death that he couldn't have in life.

Well, I thought that I was going to be in HUGE trouble. I thought that I had called down a veritable sh*tstorm the size of Idaho on myself. I figured that I would hear about it directly from opinionated parishioners who disagreed with what I'd done, and from the rector - whose permission I had NOT asked - who would have to take the complaints of people who were not comfortable approaching me directly. 

Instead, I experienced something that I can only describe as humbling. People from all over the congregation, some with tears in their eyes, many who I knew disagreed with my vehemently on numerous political issues, came up to me after the service, and - wouldn't you know it - they thanked me.

After that, I was sure that what I was doing was right. I still didn't REALLY know what I was supposed to do next, but we can call it a successful trial run.

In 2012 I had the astounding privilege of attending the General Convention of the Episcopal Church (which took place in Indianapolis) as part of a program called the Young Adult Festival, wherein young adults in the church are offered a gigantic discount on hotel and convention admission, special events for our age group, and a chance to meet each other, network, and observe the church's decision making process at work. Little known fact: outside of India the Episcopal Church has the largest democratically elected legislative body in the world, with more than 880 deputies in the House of Deputies and something like 250 total bishops in the House of Bishops (though retired bishops often choose to relinquish their right to vote). 

At convention I saw the amazing things that the Episcopal Church is doing in the 21st century being carried out: I saw our advocacy for the respectful and loving treatment of people in sexual minority groups and the development of a rite to bless committed, same-sex relationships; I saw us reaffirm that the call to ordained ministry can be felt by any of God's children, including not just men and women but trans people as well; I saw us considering where our resources ought to be spent to do the most good; I saw us considering our lives of public worship, and how they are changing to better reflect what we believe about God and our place in the world as His children. 

I also got the chance to gently toss out my ideas about praying for our enemies to my peers, and I found that not only did they agree with me, they thought the church would to, if only someone were to tell them.

So I started looking into ways that I could make my idea a reality on a large scale. I attended diocesan convention (a smaller version of General Convention) in my diocese as a delegate of my parish in 2013, and at that convention I gauged where my diocese might be in terms of readiness to accept what to some might be the radical step of changing our public worship to pray for people like bin Laden and others. I also got a good look at how church legislation is working under the current bishop and how business at convention is held these days.

Attending convention, and getting up and speaking about issues that year, made me confident enough to take the step of writing a resolution of my own to submit to the floor. After a great deal of work and worry, I have finished that resolution, and I have submitted it to be part of the business at the 2014 diocesan convention in November! Thanks to the wonders of the internet, you can read it below!

The most painstaking part really wasn't the legal language, or even writing the prayers. I have an English degree, after all; might as well put it to some use. No, the agonizing bit was really the explanation. I put it off, and put it off, and spent hours thinking about just those few, little paragraphs. I wanted to be firm, but polite; honest, but not condemning. If I am doing the right thing, as God has called me, and if this resolution takes off and goes on to be considered by the whole church, then those few paragraphs could mean everything. They could affect the prayer lives of two-and-a-half million people or more, and change the way they view themselves as Christians and their relationship to God, their neighbors, and the world.

I will go to convention in November, and there - hopefully wearing the full armor of God - I will present my case. The idea that my words may hold the very power of God in them terrifies me far more than the thought of rejection. It would be so much easier to sit idly by and maintain the status quo, so much safer to let the church continue in its transgression. It's hard to pray for your enemies, and even harder to love them, particularly now, when we see Christians in other parts of the world being gruesomely executed by people filled with anger and hate, but Christ calls us to do the hard thing. To rise up out of the ways of violence, vengeance, and rivalry, and work for peace. That is a difficult, and brave thing to do. Christianity, my friends, is not for cowards.