Like many of you, I watched parts of last night’s Democratic National Convention, curious to see how Vice President Harris would introduce herself to voters this election. Political conventions are an opportunity for a party to project its values and to dream about who we might be. I find myself hopeful that what we’ll hear this week can offer a path beyond the vindictiveness and polarization that presently characterize so much of our public life. As much as newscasters portray the election as Democrats vs. Republicans—and as much as there are dire stakes and consequences in that choice—the truth is, come November 6, we can either face our problems together or struggle beneath them alone.

I was moved last night to hear President Biden endorse Vice President Harris by the humility with which he has stepped aside. There’s another world where he, out of pride, staggered his way through the November election, thrusting us into unprecedented danger. It takes courage to acknowledge when it’s no longer your moment in the spotlight and to play a supporting role with grace. That spirit is an essential part of what we need: To build the world we deserve, we all must make sacrifices. And particularly, those with decades of accumulated power will need to hand those reins to the next generation of leaders. Being in community means nurturing who comes next—to guide and to counsel, but also let go. But this country needs more than humility. We also need a vibrant vision for our future.

That’s why—even though Donald Trump’s actions have more than earned words of condemnation—I pray that the rest of this convention will be more focused on embracing the values we should embody than criticizing the values we should reject. I’m so hurt and devastated by the racism, xenophobia, queerphobia, misogyny, and—frankly—violence that characterizes the current Republican platform. But healing from that harm will also demand collaboration with millions of people who vote differently than I will. I’m going to be honest, sometimes that makes me so angry! It’s easier to just write people off, to say “they’ll never change.” But the God I follow calls us to more than that, to the hard work of reconciliation, forging a new society together in love. As I write in my book, “If we think of the stranger as our neighbor and ask, What would love have me do, we might make choices that help us heal collectively, choices that heal our souls and the world.”

At the Republican Convention, we saw Hulk Hogan ripping his shirt off and a candidate introduction by the man who runs the Ultimate Fighting Championship. Please, Kamala, show the people something different. Talk about how free school lunches will make sure that no child goes hungry, regardless of who their parents voted for. Talk about how universal healthcare will guarantee that everyone can see a doctor if they get sick. Describe how codifying abortion access as federal law will give all people the right to make choices about their body. These issues and more are supported by a vast majority of voters. Make them the foundation for a political movement that starts by asking, “What do all people deserve?”

I’m bone tired of being told why I should fear the other guy. Not because I’m not afraid—Lord help me, I’m terrified—but because fear will never move hearts and minds like an appeal to who could become. I follow the one who counseled, “Do not be afraid,” grounded in the promise that “perfect love casts out fear.” It’s not that there aren’t reasons to be scared, but ultimately, fear inspires apathy where we need dedication. As leaders call their political opponents “enemies,” remind us of our shared humanity. Against voices that scream, “you can’t trust them!” promise, “We’re in this together.” To borrow from the past, when they yell, “We can’t do that,” whisper “Yes, we can.” Give the nation something to choose joyfully in November.

~ Rev. Dr. Jacqueline Lewis

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