Do MAGAs Deserve a Seat at Our Tables?

Photo by Natilyn Hicks Photography on Unsplash

Back in 2016 I wrote a book called 'A Bigger Table.'

It was the continuation of my then twenty-year journey as a local church pastor, trying to craft spiritual communities where all people would be truly welcomed, especially those most often excluded based on gender identity, sexual orientation, race, religious tradition, nation of origin, or a less rigid theology.

Given the clarity with which I've declared my contempt for our current President and my exasperation with those still supporting him, I often get a fairly loaded but still reasonable question:

"Is your 'bigger table' open to Trump supporters?"

I'm not sure how to answer that question anymore after what I've seen in recent months from strangers, from neighbors, from friends and family members still aligned with him:

The absolute callousness toward immigrant families.
The fierce opposition to releasing the Epstein files.
The giddy joy at the cancellation of media members.
The indifference to the suffering in Gaza and Ukraine.
The cruelty toward those who are already starved for compassion.

These things don't just point to a difference of opinion; they highlight a culture of open and normalized hatred that is endangering people every single day, a culture they are actively cultivating by their support of this President. Far greater than political divides, theological impasses, or differing perspectives, they illustrate a fundamental disconnect in the way we value and protect humanity.

It's becoming increasingly apparent that this Administration is being defined by exclusion of the vulnerable, by fear of the other, by the hoarding of advantage, by the marginalizing of the outsider, by the leveraging of phobias. Donald Trump isn't just seeking to shrink the table; he's trying to legislate out all but the wealthiest and whitest. He's attempting to buy the table and deny access to the lion's share of those seeking to be present at it.

And this is the crux of the matter: to still support the Trump Administration is to loudly champion the smaller table and to declare a vast portion of the world not only unequivocally uninvited, but imminently threatened. It is to ratify his contempt for disparate humanity by proxy, and I don't see a way around that.

How can someone claim to be an ally to the LGBTQ community while offering hospitality to those who believe they should be eradicated?
How can we simultaneously support the immigrant population and offer welcome to people who celebrate their exclusion?
How do we stand with starving Palestinians or war-ravaged Ukrainians, and with people who lack a shred of compassion for them?

These are not neat, tidy hypotheticals weighed in the safety of some theoretical vacuum; they are the rubber-meet-road questions we are facing in the mess of our everyday and they have real consequences.

It's virtually impossible to claim both alignment with this President and with a table where equality, diversity, and empathy all get seats. This isn't virtue signaling or identity politics, but the acknowledgement that the MAGA movement is itself a danger to the bigger table.

Philosophically, I still believe fully in that table; that diversity makes us better, that more voices benefit the conversation, that the disparate expressions of humanity deserve to be represented.

I am deeply invested in the work of building disparate community, in navigating differences, in seeing the inherent commonalities of our shared experiences of being human.

I am burdened to bring diverse people together.

I am called by my faith to care for all human beings in my path.

I am compelled to see them individually and to value their specific stories.

But I am not obligated to have unity with hateful people.

It would be a slap in the face to migrant children, to people of color, to Transgender human beings, to Muslims, to disabled people, to non-Christians, and women, for me to offer the willing and joyous perpetrators of their wounds welcome in the name of some ceremonial tolerance.

In light of this, I am much less willing to tolerate open aggression or unrepentant cruelty, and that may mean distancing myself from strangers and even people I love, if they insist on dehumanizing people or clinging to alternative Fox News facts to justify such behavior. I may be blocking people on social media or avoiding their presence at holiday gatherings or gradually disconnecting from them, not because I am reluctant to open the bigger table, but because they are a barrier to it.

People of faith, morality, and conscience are not required to make peace with hatred.

We are not indebted to fascism, racism, bigotry, or phobic violence.

The call to love one’s enemies does not necessitate abiding their enmity.

Yes, the invitation to the bigger table is open to the world, and that absolutely includes people across the political aisle, but active hatred and discrimination are not welcome here, so those who traffic in such things do not deserve a seat where good people gather.

That isn't a contradiction to our values; it is a declaration of them.

How do you hold your values and the people around you who live antithetically to those values simultaneously? Is it possible to cultivate a bigger table while welcoming those who seem hostile toward it? Let me know in the comments.