Imagine a world where mercy and compassion are trending topics. 

Compassion. The word has been echoing in my mind since the plea to President Donald Trump by the Right Rev. Mariann Budde, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington during the Jan. 21 Interfaith Service for Christian Unity, the last event of the recent presidential inauguration.

Budde asked Trump to show mercy and compassion for immigrants and others.

“I ask you to have mercy, Mr. President, on those in our communities whose children fear that their parents will be taken away and that you help those who are fleeing war zones and persecution in their lands to find compassion and welcome here,” she said. “Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger, for we were all once strangers in this land.”

 Trump later asked for an apology and called Budde “not compelling or smart.” Trump’s response also recast Budde’s words as political and nasty — an attack on her as a person. “She brought her church into the World [sic] of politics in a very ungracious way,” Trump wrote in a post on Truth Social. Yet, if you watch the recording of the sermon, you may notice that Budde’s tone was gracious and humble.

She was also in line with the teachings of Jesus. Budde referenced Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount,” which states “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy” (Matthew 5:7). In the gospel of John, at the end of his three-year ministry, Jesus told his disciples to love one another, just as they had been loved by Jesus (John 13:34-35).

With the word “compassion” still in my mind, I went to the Washington National Cathedral on Feb. 2 — two weeks after Budde’s sermon. I was not there to see Bishop Budde, but to visit with friends who are members of the congregation that meets weekly in this majestic space. I listened as my friends and a few of their fellow parishioners spoke about the international attention that came with Budde’s call for compassion from Trump. Later, at the end of the service, the congregation gave Budde another standing ovation ­— though she was not that Sunday’s preacher ­­­­— as she approached the altar for her liturgical duties as Bishop of Washington.  

I sat there in the Cathedral and thought, “What do we do with this moment of upheaval from the executive orders issued in Trump’s first 100 days of his second term? How do we show compassion to those whose lives have been so disrupted and upended? Showing mercy and compassion has always been a respectful and reasonable response to people oppressed and suffering from external forces. What has happened that made extending compassion and mercy a question of policy platforms?

Mercy can be delivered only by someone who has the power to punish or harm. If the power dynamic was equal — like between two siblings over a toy — the response to injustice or wrongdoing is simply compassion and forgiveness. In the case of Trump’s executive orders, wrongdoing is being redefined as not what you have done, but by who you are. For example, immigrants and transgender people are being targeted for their identities. This is an assault on their dignity.  

Unfortunately, we are silent when we are faced with someone whose dignity is under attack. Instead of showing compassion or even defending the person being attacked, most of our silence is self-protection. Budde attempted to respond on behalf of the immigrants, transgender persons, and others impacted by the executive orders. Her call for mercy is laudable. But perhaps the necessary next step for all of us would be a call for respect and human dignity. 

In her book, Dignity: Its Essential Role in Resolving Conflict, author and conflict specialist Donna Hicks said that anger, resentment, and bad feelings can be traced back to a moment when one’s dignity has been violated by another. Identifying the hurt as a violation of dignity gives a name to  the experience of suffering. Connecting the hurt to the loss of dignity is the first step in resolving the conflict and alleviating the suffering. It is empowering to think that the first step toward wholeness is not mercy but the restoration of dignity, something that can be done between the wounded and a friendly neighbor. If this is true, then it is more powerful to love your neighbor than to wait for mercy. 

Perhaps, for now, this is all we can do: Love each other and your neighbor, protect each other’s dignity, and stand up for each other, or else the lack of compassion will fuel the politicization and threaten to tear the nation apart. 

Rev. Valerie Bailey Fischer is Chaplain to the College and its Protestant Chaplain.