What This Is

An Insurrection Is Still an Insurrection

It was five years ago today and I was out the door early for my hike. In Novato, California it was not an unusual thing for a winter morning. I took this photo that day, January 6, 2021. Walking was my religion then, still locked down, still waiting six feet apart at the grocery, still hoping for a vaccine that finally seemed possible. Arriving home, I prepared the weekly Communion I offered via Zoom for my congregants, who in the new reality consisted of people on both coasts.

After the last amen, before closing my laptop, an ominous notification sent me to the television where I saw a massive horde moving down Pennsylvania Avenue with flags and sticks, placards and costumes, nooses and megaphones. We all knew what was meant by it. There was to be an interruption of a dignified Constitutional process, one in which a free and fair election is certified, making way either for the incumbent to continue governing, or for the power of the Executive Branch to be transferred peacefully with respect and decorum. In my lifetime this had taken place fifteen times. I never imagined a time when it wouldn’t.

From the moment the screen was on I was mesmerized, not unlike the day of a presidential assassination, a shuttle explosion, or an invasion from the skies in the middle east. I could not look away, nor could I believe what was happening in front of all of us. Windows being broken. Doors being rammed. Law enforcement officers beaten and prodded with flagpoles. People with Christian symbols chanting about the power of Jesus. References to the battle of Jericho. Confederate flags in the Rotunda. The sound of gunfire outside the floor of the House.

The brutality of that day was terrifying. People died. The seat of government was desecrated. The artful beauty of our shared heritage was vandalized. The greatest democracy in the history of the world was weakened, though not destroyed.

Every person convicted of the crimes to which we were all witnesses have now been freed as patriots and heroes. In certain quarters of Christianity this is viewed as a great victory in the cause of Christ, a defeat of Satan, a divine vindication. I will never be that kind of Christian. I want no part of any religion that asserts itself with violence. Nothing about January 6th is redeemable. An insurrection is an insurrection. That is what this is.

In the aftermath, even that very night, as Congress returned under protection to complete its work (which it did), on live television witnessed by the world, political allies of the outgoing administration said one by one, “This is enough. We are here to defend the Constitution.” And that is what they did for a bit, at least long enough to swear in the duly elected President.

But in no time at all, there began a procession of wounded sycophants quickly awakened from their brush with integrity. One by one they kissed the ring, weighing their reliance on a political base which had so recently threatened their very lives, and surrendering their self-respect in the process just to maintain power. This festering spectacle of unprincipled self-interest has brought us to the reality we’re now in: an aging tyrant propped up by minions who want a brutal American Empire that takes whatever it wants and submits to no rule of anyone’s law.

I began writing on Substack one year ago. As most of you know, this has become a place where I share my thoughts, my frustrations, and sometimes my anger. When this energy wells up inside me, it is writing that keeps me from breaking things. It keeps me from being destructive. My aspiration for this space is that I can go further and become CONSTRUCTIVE.

When this specific nightmare is past, undoing the damage will not be a simple feat. What is being dismantled is reality itself, and the deconstruction of truth messes with our interior lives. The barrage of lies spewed at us daily eventually wears us down. It desensitizes us. It tempts us to question whether anything matters. It whittles us down to the core of our identity and purpose. It is at that core where the turnaround happens. It is that moment when we say with absolute resolve, “Enough.”

Recently I came across a quote from Michael Dowd, author of Thank God For Evolution. This is part of his creedal statement, an exercise from which we could all benefit. Some of it goes like this:

Reality is my God. Evidence is my Scripture. The epic of evolution is my creation story. Ecology is my theology. Integrity is my spiritual path. Fostering right relationship to reality is my mission.

This is our nitty-gritty moment. This is where we find out what we are made of, and how we will express it to one another and to the world. This goes deeper than any religious tenet or propositional belief system. This goes to the core of what makes us human. As evolved and evolving humans we can be bruised and battered. We can watch the oppression perpetrated by a highly energized and singularly focused minority and say, “Enough.” We can reach our fill of the latest news cycle and say, “Enough.” We can call out the media/AI environment financially invested in stirring our outrage and say, “Enough.”

And we can say to the white supremacists, the Christian nationalists, to the cable news hosts and reality TV stars who think they run the world, “Enough.” You don’t own my soul. You don’t own history. You don’t own this country. And, by God, you don’t own the future.