In the Aftermath of the Election

A post by Rev. Cn. Adam Bucko

Our Community will offer Meditation and Contemplative Prayer for the Nation tonight, Wednesday November 6, at 6:30pm ET. All are welcome to join us. Details can be found here.

We gather today in the aftermath of a national election—a moment that brings forth a complex mix of emotions. Some of us are rejoicing, while others are feeling disillusioned or even fearful for what lies ahead. Many among us feel that no side has truly spoken to our deepest hopes. And yet, today we face a choice, one deeper than any ballot could hold. Will we harbor resentment, deepen our anger, assume the worst of each other? Or will we choose a different path?

I believe one of the roots of our division is that too many Christians hold their political identity above their spiritual one. We might not admit it outright, but it shows in how we speak, act, and respond to those who disagree with us. Today, let us return to our primary identity—not as Republicans or Democrats, but as beloved children of God. Each of us carries a spark of God’s love, and our calling is to uncover that spark and support others in doing the same.

The truth is, as Christians, neither political party can fully represent us, nor should it dictate what we support, consent to, or what we resist. Both parties, at times, rely on keeping us disconnected from our belovedness, blind to the sacredness in others, and encourage us to see “the other side” as the enemy. So I urge you to reclaim the identity God has given us and remember we have a guide for what that looks like in public life—the Gospels. Whatever our politics, the Gospels offer us truths that are both clear and non-negotiable.

What is clear?

Theologians remind us that “The Kingdom of God” is central to Jesus’ message in the Gospels. This Kingdom has spiritual, social, and even political dimensions. It is both a present reality and a future hope. It begins when we uncover the original love within our hearts and put it into action. This opens our eyes to see the world through Christ’s eyes. It empowers us to question business as usual and challenge our own complicities in systems that degrade human dignity. It calls us to work for a new kind of world—a world where humility, servanthood, and compassion, where sharing in each other’s pain and joy, are key characteristics. 

One does not enter or lead others into this new reality by force or coercion. No matter how we feel about those who disagree with us, while actions can be wrong—even evil—people are redeemable. No one is beyond God’s mercy. Our healing and salvation are bound up with the healing and redemption of others. We are not saved alone but in community, and it is our duty to hold out the possibility of grace and healing for everyone, even those with whom we profoundly disagree.

Another Gospel virtue worth mentioning, as theologians Rowan Williams and Albert Nolan remind us, is that “Jesus saw himself and his mission as intimately tied to the poor and those on the margins. In standing with them, he revealed what it means to be fully human and fully alive in God’s Kingdom.” As Christians, “we are called to be where Christ is, which means being with the poor—not out of pity, but out of shared humanity and mutual respect.” We are called to share in God’s preferential love for the poor, the marginalized, the stranger, the migrant, and those who suffer, seeing the world not through the lens of our comfort and what it takes to protect our privileged lives, but through the eyes of those crucified by the powers of this world. Our hearts must break for the brokenhearted.

We are also called to question systems and institutions that exploit and dehumanize. While not every disciple was asked to sell everything, each of us is called to stand against exploitation and examine our relationship to attitudes and institutions that promote it.

Finally, we are called to be skeptical of violence as a solution. Jesus showed us another way—a way that may not always seem practical but reveals a deeper truth. His life was not about winning but about sacrificial love. His justice was not about getting even but about forgiveness, reconciliation, and healing. “Forgiveness disrupts the cycle of violence and allows for true freedom. It is the foundation of a new world order rooted in God’s love.” Our forgiveness creates a possibility for making all things new.

So how practical is this? Sometimes preserving our souls and staying faithful to our belovedness is more important than winning. Sometimes our call is not to strategize for success but to live in trust that dishonesty and violence won’t have the last word. Sometimes, or always, choosing to be salt and light is what preserves our integrity. So today, let’s choose to be salt and light. Let’s remember our identity as children of God and carry that into every conversation, every action, every heartache, and every hope. Let us remember that our political choices, what we consent to or resist should be based on that.

Before we close, I want to share a story—one that moved me deeply.

Just this past weekend, at a conference in New Mexico, I met a remarkable man. He lives in a very poor part of Louisiana, where his neighbors endure constant hardships from hurricanes, pollution from nearby oil and gas industries, and a lack of political attention to their needs. Though he holds progressive values, he lives within a conservative community—a difference he feels is more circumstantial than divisive.

His community is heavily reliant on the oil industry for jobs, making any talk of transitioning to clean energy nearly impossible. People there often feel that those who advocate for such changes aren’t invested in their lives but only want to eliminate the jobs they depend on. Recognizing this, he took a different approach. Rather than aligning with a political stance, he focused on building relationships and listening to his neighbors’ stories—especially those who work in the oil industry. Through these conversations, he learned about the harmful chemicals they’ve been exposed to, the high rates of cancer, and how many of them pass away shortly after retirement.

In response, he began organizing people to voice their concerns—not by confronting them with arguments that felt like threats to their livelihood but by uniting them around a common, human interest: the health and well-being of their community. He showed them that they could seek industries that both provide jobs and protect their health. Together, they began uncovering how the very companies causing them harm hadn’t paid taxes in decades, while their own families received little help after hurricanes destroyed their homes.

This story brings me hope. In a time when so much focus is on political divisions and polarizing narratives, here is someone who chose to approach others with openness and trust. Instead of assuming the worst about those who think differently, he chose to listen, to set aside his own certainties, and to create space in his heart for his neighbors’ experiences.

My invitation to you this year is to do the same: to practice hospitality, to connect with those who don’t think like us, to listen and learn, even when we disagree. Rather than simply assuming the worst, let’s open ourselves to insights drawn from real lives and experiences.

Alongside this, I encourage you to approach the news with discernment. Read from the left, the right, and the middle. Consider each perspective, recognizing the ways different interests and the money spent to promote those interests shape how stories are told. Develop discernment. Trust that you have the capacity to discern what resonates as true.

Finally, my last invitation is to read the Gospels daily. Ground yourself in the teachings of Jesus—not just through words like mine, but by engaging with his stories, his words, and above all, his example.

Organize a group of friends to periodically process both the news and how the Gospel informs your choices. Join your group to the broader movement seeking justice that heals, change rooted in nonviolence, and the restoration of all creation in God’s peace—to help create, in the spirit of Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin, “a world where it is easier to be good,” where compassion and integrity guide our actions.

Let the Gospel be your lens as you encounter the world and decide how to respond to it. 

The Rev. Adam Bucko is a co-founder and Director of the Center for Spiritual Imagination and is an Episcopal priest serving at the Cathedral of the Incarnation in Garden City, NY. Adam has been a committed voice in the movement for the renewal of Christian Contemplative Spirituality and the growing New Monastic movement for many years. He has taught engaged contemplative spirituality in Europe and the US and co-authored two books: Occupy Spirituality: A Radical Vision for a New Generation and The New Monasticism: An Interspiritual Manifesto for Contemplative Living. His latest book, published in 2022, is Let Your Heartbreak Be Your Guide: Lessons in Engaged Contemplation. Committed to an integration of contemplation and just practice, he co-founded an award winning non-profit, the Reciprocity Foundation, where he spent 15 years working with homeless youth living on the streets of New York City, providing spiritual care, developing programs to end youth homelessness and articulating a vision for spiritual mentoring in a post-religious world.