Hubris

Before the Ides of November

I had the pleasure of attending a Kamala Harris rally in South Carolina, invited to the meet-and-greet by a member of a congregation I was serving at that time. I had admired Harris from afar, but wasn’t ready to endorse her because, well . . . Uncle Joe. But my heart stirred as I heard Kamala speak. She was warm, articulate, and demonstrably brilliant. When I met her after the rally, I admit I was smitten. I loved her laugh. I watched those piercing and intimidating black eyes of hers become soft and twinkling. She was authentic and kind as we spoke and joked about our pantsuits. I was ready to endorse her!”—Rev. Robin White

Wing + Prayer

By The Reverend Robin White

(L) The Rev. White and Candidate Harris, 2019; and (R) it-is-to-be-hoped President Kamala Harris.
(L) The Rev. White and Candidate Harris, 2019; and (R) it-is-to-be-hoped President Kamala Harris.

Robin White Weekly Hubris

PENDLETON South Carolina—(Hubris)—November/December 2024—I remember waking up the morning of 9 November 2016 after a fitful night, my feeling of despair and grief and rage as deep as though I had just learned of a loved one’s unexpected death. I turned on the TV, hoping that something had changed, that some mistake had been made . . . or that, perhaps, it had all been just a nightmare, not real, a trumped up lie foisted on a gullible electorate. (Orson Welles’ “War of the Worlds” all over again.) But there it was. There she was, giving her concession speech.

I raged, I wailed, I cried so hard I hyperventilated. Just the day before, I had proudly and gleefully worn a pantsuit to the polls. Just the night before, I had made tacos for dinner, referencing Trump proxy Marco Gutierrez’s “there’ll be a taco truck on every corner” assertion.

But this was just the prelude. The real nightmare would begin in just a little over two months.

In 1999, while serving a church in Delaware, I was invited to offer the invocation at the State Chamber of Commerce dinner at the historic and lavish Hotel DuPont in Wilmington. I arrived in my little black cocktail dress and was escorted to my seat at the head table. As people stood around the table mingling, I locked eyes with a member of my church who was some sort of “bigwig” in the organization, and he rushed over to greet me with a bear hug. He was, I am sure, the reason I’d been chosen to pray over the event.

At that time, the governor of Delaware, Tom Carper, now US Senator Tom Carper, attended the Presbyterian Church in Dover where I served as pastor. When he spotted me, he too greeted me with a warm hug.

And with that, the man who was to be seated on my right touched my arm, grinned, and asked, “Who the hell are you that everybody here seems to know you but me?!”

That man was Joe Biden, and he and I spent the rest of the evening engaged in deep conversation. He quizzed me about my life, shared stories from his own, and an evening that I had dreaded, due to the usual stuffiness of such occasions, turned into a joyful and enlightening experience. I felt as though I had sat down to dinner with a brother, or uncle . . . Uncle Joe.

Fewer than 10 years later, I was overjoyed to cast my vote for the Obama/Biden ticket and then celebrate their win on Inauguration Day!

Rev. White demonstrating, Seneca SC. (Photo: E. B-Herring.)
Rev. White demonstrating, Seneca SC. (Photo: E. B-Herring.)

A decade later, I had the pleasure of attending a Kamala Harris rally in South Carolina. I was invited to the meet-and-greet by a member of a congregation I was serving at that time. I had admired Harris from afar, but wasn’t ready to endorse her because, well . . . Uncle Joe.

But my heart stirred as I heard Kamala speak. She was warm, articulate, and demonstrably brilliant. When I met her after the rally, I admit I was smitten. I loved her laugh. I watched those piercing and intimidating black eyes of hers become soft and twinkling. She was authentic and kind as we spoke and joked about our “pantsuits.” I was ready to endorse her!

When Biden won the primary and chose Harris as his VP, I proudly boasted that I’d met both of them and, again, joyfully celebrated their win and inauguration!

But here we are all again, on the cusp of making history. My anxiety is running high as November 5th approaches. I am anxious to celebrate a historic victory but, I confess, déjà vu hangs over me: I honestly do not know if I can withstand the devastation of another Trump “win,” another Trump term in office.

This country, this republic, cannot withstand another Trump presidency; this time, a full-on Trump dictatorship.

Someone has written that in this election cycle we will “either make history or be history.” We shall soon see what the majority of us have decided.

The Rev. Robin Kaye White grew up in a farming community in Central New York State: she is descended, on both sides of her family, from dairy farmers, and is most alive, still, in rural North American landscapes. A voice major, she studied Music at Ithaca College; then earned her MDiv at Lancaster Theological Seminary and did graduate work at Princeton Seminary and The Theological Institute of Advanced Theological Research in Jerusalem, Israel. Ordained in the Presbyterian Church (USA), White was recently a Co-Moderator of the National Board of More Light Presbyterians. In the summer of 2023, she served as Bridge Pastor at Mount Auburn Presbyterian Church in Cincinnati Ohio. White is passionate about liturgy—“the work of the people”—and preaching. In her sermons, she strives to illuminate the original context of scripture and tease out its messages for the fraught present. She has had the privilege of “holding space” for the dying and their loved ones and experiences this ministry of presence as a gift: she is most willing to go with people as they journey to desert places. She states: “I have lived my life by adhering to Paul’s words in his letter to the church at Rome, ‘Rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep.’” She is just as likely, though, to quote Rachel Held Evans as St. Paul: “This is what God’s kingdom is like: a bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or worthy or good, but because they are hungry, because they said yes. And there’s always room for more.” A Lesbian-Pescaterian-Presbyterian, Reverend White is most alive out of doors, whether hiking, biking, kayaking, golfing . . . or just sitting on a rock. (Banner and Author photos: E.B.-Herring; Author Head Shot Augment: René Laanen.)

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