A vivid memory burst into my consciousness a few days ago, which has, for me, a direct connection to the recent deployment of the National Guard in several US cities.Several years ago I was sitting at the old Yankee Stadium, attending a Red Sox-Yankee game. My friends and I were in the upper deck that looked down on home plate. Several busloads of Red Sox fans from Hartford filled the section of seats across from us. One fan positioned himself at the bottom of the section, standing with his back to the field, facing the many rows of spectators, on the lookout for Yankee fans. He looked mean and angry, which was leveraged by copious amounts of beer. He wanted a fight, which in those days was a regular occurrence across the ballpark, especially when the Red Sox came to town. For several innings he taunted and insulted Yankee fans, hoping they would literally take up arms. No one did. By the seventh inning he had had enough, so he climbed up the stairs a few rows behind us, picked out who he assumed was a Yankee fan, and slugged him in the face. A melee ensued, and bodies began falling down onto our backs. As we scurried to get out of the way, I muttered to myself: I am too old for this.
Apparently not, because a reprise of that memory is being played out in a more dangerous way, and on a much broader field than Yankee Stadium. I see President Trump, fueled not with alcohol but with a combination of power and vengeance, looking not up but down on what he and his minions consider to be illegal immigrants, and sending in troops to round them up, all the while taunting, insulting, and threatening them – hoping that they – or their defenders will become verbally or physically violent. That would be an even better outcome for the President because he could then fashion a justification for allowing ICE and the National Guard to respond with even more aggression and violence.
And the people in Portland and Chicago are not taking the bait. Yes, they are organizing and protesting these illegal and unprecedented incursions, but the gatherings are protected by civil liberties outlined in the Constitution. The President’s team has gone to great lengths to fabricate bogus stories and fake videos of mayhem, which to my mind are attempts to generate a false narrative and instigate violence. I can’t help but feel that the President wants to line up his growing cohort of resisters and slug them all in the face. Or worse.
At the Yankee-Red Sox game years ago, I had a hard time believing what I was seeing: that a fan who was more intoxicated with anger than beer could be that mean and violent. But there it was. And here we are. We are in a fight. Many of us, myself included, can’t believe that we have a President who keeps itching for a fight, who actively searches out and brazenly identifies enemies, and will use all sorts of illegal and immoral resources to go after them. It’s not a fair fight, given the access he has to the deploy the military and harangue from the bully pulpit.
And yet. We can resist, not by taking the bait nor firing back the vile threats that the Administration keeps launching at various constituencies across the country. We need to continue to uncover the illicit and illegal strategies, yes, and expose people to the corruption, lies and deceit. We need to do that. But perhaps more importantly we need to develop the discipline of holding on to hope, and schooling ourselves in the abiding power of non-violence.
And we need to tell the stories. There is a temptation to keep our focus on the unfolding story of the President’s duplicity, the story of how Project 2025 has become the blueprint for the Administration’s strategy, the story of those who are no longer able to hide behind the scenes (namely Russell Vought and Steven Miller) who are guiding the turmoil, and the New Apostolic Reformation (NAR) which has enormous influence as it seeks to achieve dominion of the seven mountains of our lives (government, media, arts, family, religion, education and business) and establish Christian supremacy.
We need to mine those stories – and tell them in order to expose their motivations and the violence they support.
And more importantly, we need to showcase the stories of those who are being threatened, the millions of people who are being slugged in the face. To hear their stories, which means we need to take steps to establish relationships with them. To follow the example the good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) who not only tended the wounds of the man beaten by the side of the road, but pledged to stay with him through the ordeal, a commitment that placed him considerable risk, given that the Samaritan was a pariah in that part of the country. Compassion and risk are ingredients that builds solidarity and generates power.
I managed to get out of the way of the fight that broke out at Yankee Stadium. Many of us feel tempted to get out of the way of this escalating fight that is being provoked across the country. We can’t do that. Our compassion and willingness to risk are needed, as are our eyes and voices, to be witnesses to truth and hope.
