On Bishop Budde, Carole Feraci, and Standing Up To Cult Leaders

Of the sixty-plus inaugural addresses delivered by forty USA presidents, almost all refrained from demonizing domestic political opponents. Even Abe Lincoln in March of 1861, after receiving literally zero votes in ten southern states and with the nation on the brink of civil war, made one last attempt to unite the divided masses: "We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies." 

The two major exceptions to the tradition of trying to bring the nation together on inauguration day were Donald Trump in 2017 and Donald Trump in 2025. In the more recent one, Trump called himself a "peacemaker and unifier" while at the same time not hesitating to alienate half the country, accusing the Biden Administration of a "horrible betrayal." Not much hope for unity there. 

In January of 1972 at a White House event, singer Carole Feraci unveiled a "Stop The Killing" banner and directly pleaded with President Nixon to stop the Vietnam war. In January of 2025 Bishop Mariann BuddeI similarly challenged President Trump to act with mercy in relation to those who fear his return to power. 

With the new president not willing or not able even to pretend to care about political friendship, it was left to the Bishop of Washington, the Reverend Mariann Budde, on the next day to offer up a homily on "A Service of Prayer for the Nation." I'll get to the part that made national headlines shortly, but my hope is that Bishop Budde's speech gets remembered for more than pissing off a bitter, vengeful, thin-skinned, curmudgeonly president. The speech was an eloquent statement, rooted in the gospel wisdom of Matthew 7:24-29, of the need for people of goodwill to recapture "unity" from the grasp of partisans: 

Joined by many across the country, we have gathered this morning to pray for unity as a nation—not for agreement, political or otherwise, but for the kind of unity that fosters community across diversity and division, a unity that serves the common good.

Unity, in this sense, is the threshold requirement for people to live together in a free society, it is the solid rock, as Jesus said, in this case upon which to build a nation. It is not conformity. It is not a victory of one over another. It is not weary politeness nor passivity born of exhaustion. Unity is not partisan.

Rather, unity is a way of being with one another that encompasses and respects differences, that teaches us to hold multiple perspectives and life experiences as valid and worthy of respect; that enables us, in our communities and in the halls of power, to genuinely care for one another even when we disagree. Those across our country who dedicate their lives, or who volunteer, to help others in times of natural disaster, often at great risk to themselves, never ask those they are helping for whom they voted in the past election or what positions they hold on a particular issue. We are at our best when we follow their example.

Unity, at times, is sacrificial, in the way that love is sacrificial, a giving of ourselves for the sake of another. Jesus of Nazareth, in his Sermon on the Mount, exhorts us to love not only our neighbors, but to love our enemies, and to pray for those who persecute us; to be merciful, as our God is merciful, and to forgive others, as God forgives us. Jesus went out of his way to welcome those whom his society deemed as outcasts.

What a powerful contrast to the pettiness of the president's inaugural message. With a Martin Luther King, Jr. style of moral conviction, she said: 

Unity is relatively easy to pray for on occasions of solemnity. It’s a lot harder to realize when we’re dealing with real differences in the public arena. But without unity, we are building our nation’s house on sand . . . With a commitment to unity that incorporates diversity and transcends disagreement, and the solid foundations of dignity, honesty, and humility that such unity requires, we can do our part, in our time, to help realize the ideals and the dream of America.

And then the conclusion, which sent President Trump and his toadies in Congress into a tizzy: 

Let me make one final plea, Mr. President. Millions have put their trust in you. As you told the nation yesterday, you have felt the providential hand of a loving God. In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now. There are transgender children in both Republican and Democrat families who fear for their lives.

President Trump demanded that Bishop Budde apologize for her remarks, which were delivered gently and without malice. She has said, "I am not going to apologize for asking for mercy for others."  

And the people who pick our crops and clean our office buildings; who labor in our poultry farms and meat-packing plants; who wash the dishes after we eat in restaurants and work the night shift in hospitals—they may not be citizens or have the proper documentation, but the vast majority of immigrants are not criminals. They pay taxes, and are good neighbors. They are faithful members of our churches, mosques and synagogues, gurdwara, and temples.

Have mercy, Mr. President, on those in our communities whose children fear that their parents will be taken away. Help those who are fleeing war zones and persecution in their own lands to find compassion and welcome here. Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger, for we were once strangers in this land.

May God grant us all the strength and courage to honor the dignity of every human being, speak the truth in love, and walk humbly with one another and our God, for the good of all the people of this nation and the world.

When I first saw the news coverage of Bishop Budde's appeal to Trump, it brought back one of my earliest childhood memories from over fifty years ago. At an event celebrating the anniversary of Reader's Digest magazine in January of 1972, a young female member of the Ray Conniff singers named Carole Feraci interrupted the festivities by holding up a "Stop The Killing" banner and saying this directly to Nixon: 

"President Nixon, stop bombing human beings, animals and vegetation. You go to church on Sundays and pray to Jesus Christ. If Jesus Christ were here tonight, you would not dare drop another bomb. Bless the Berrigans and bless Daniel Ellsberg."

Nixon sat there stunned, with his trademark forced smile on display. Feraci was allowed to stay on stage to join the group in the first number, but then Conniff asked her to leave. From the Nixon tapes we learned that the next day the president whined about Feraci to Treasury Secretary John Connolly. 

In 1968 Nixon came to power in a very close election. Even though by early 1972 he had not made good on his promise to end the war, millions of Americans (whom he cleverly labeled the "silent majority") saw him as a moderate force standing up against the alleged excesses of LBJ's Great Society and the militant youth movement. In November of 1972 Nixon would win reelection in one of the biggest landslides in the history of the nation. Less than two years later, he would resign in disgrace as a result of the Watergate scandal.  

Trump does not share many policy positions with Nixon, but what he does share with the late president is a powerful personality cult following. We know from the Watergate hearings that Nixon's closest associates were willing to lie and break laws for him, with the same emotional fervor that we saw Trump's MAGA minions exert on January 6, 2021. Individuals lost in the maze of a personality cult will place allegiance to the head honcho above any other value, and will defend dear leader unconditionally even if it means harm to their own safety or reputation. 

Standing up to cult leaders is not easy. Feraci's singing career virtually came to an end after her run-in with Nixon, and Bishop Budde finds herself on the receiving end of vile threats of violence. As horrifying as the response to them was/is, we do need average citizens, faith leaders, and others with the courage to stand up to cult leaders. In 1972 Nixon's cult following no doubt hated Feraci and wanted her banished from the public sphere. But after Watergate put the president's true character on display, my guess is that many of them came to see Nixon as not worthy of adulation, and maybe even began to see people like Carole Feraci as more authentic role models of the (small d) democratic spirit that is supposed to live in all of us who call ourselves Americans. 

David Cohen's wonderful cartoon, "Bishop Takes King," 

is a perfect visual metaphor for how Bishop Budde represented what ought to be the approach of people of faith to wannabe kings. 

Similarly, the Donald Trump cult will not be here forever. It is true that modern social media places cult followers in echo chambers that were not as controlling in the early 1970s, but still I  am confident that the MAGA multitudes--so many of whom find in the movement the connection to something bigger than self--will someday find kinship with Bishop Budde's message. Why? Because barely a month into the new administration, it is becoming harder and harder to escape the stark reality that President Trump's main concern is satisfying the needs of self-interested oligarchs. At some point, the MAGA faithful will come to the realization that their interests are not at all aligned with Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg, and Jeff Bezos, but ARE aligned with the groups for whom Bishop Budde is pleading for mercy from our leaders. 

If you have family and/or friends trapped in a cult mindset--political, religious, or anything else--check out Dr. Steven Hassan's helpful suggestions for connection. When your family and/or friends seem trapped in a cult in an extreme way that makes you feel helpless, remember Dr. Hassan's advice: "Be patient. This is a journey and will not happen overnight. Do not get discouraged. People do leave." In the political realm, don't forget to thank people like Carole Feraci and Mariann Budde for having the courage to stand up to cult leaders. Be like them.