Jesus would dust his heels at a Thanksgiving table full of MAGA cultists

If there is no political tension at your Thanksgiving table, you aren’t exemplifying unity as the New Testament describes it, you’re turning a blind eye to oppression.

If your Thanksgiving table is anything like mine has been over the years, politics is often a discussion topic. For some of you, you may come from a politically homogenous family, and so that conversation could be one of shared despair or—yikes—shared celebration. For many of us though, such harmony because of political alignment isn’t a reality at Thanksgiving. My family is politically diverse, so we feel some political tension at the table.

With such a far-right government being elected, the tension feels even stronger this year. Donald Trump promises to deport migrants, strip women of their reproductive rights, and starve trans people of their dignity, all while giving tax cuts to the wealthiest Americans. Further, his political aspirations also threaten democracy in the United States as we know it. The stakes are very high and, for many of us, it is hard to bear that our family happily endorses his platform and policy goals.

Well-meaning Christians often say that politics shouldn’t divide us, as they claim that polarization is a product of both the left and the right, with members of both parties and political ideologies thinking the other is a grave threat. Because they are caught between both political parties—caring about social justice vaguely on the one hand but supporting policy that ends reproductive and queer rights on the other—they often think the higher road is to tolerate our political difference and see the humanity in one another. But in their ability to tolerate fascists, they are morally superior, not humble.

Errantly, they cite the Gospels as an example of why this harmony is advisable. Notably, they offer two examples. The first is that Jesus sat with his betrayers, Judas Iscariot and Simon Peter, during the Lord’s Supper. They claim if Jesus could do this, why couldn’t we? And secondly, they name that Jesus’ disciples had political diversity within their ranks—Matthew the Tax Collector to the right and Simon the Zealot to the left.

The issue here is that political harmony is not the end of these accounts, condemnation or transformation is. In the first case, Judas and Peter, yes, will betray Jesus. For Judas, when he drinks the cup and doesn’t repent, he drinks his own death and judgment. Describing his betrayer, Jesus doesn’t mince words, and states in Matthew, “It would have been better for that one not to have been born.” That would be quite a line to drop at your Thanksgiving table, and hardly what moderates are ascribing. In John, the writer describes Satan as entering Judas when he eats the bread.

Peter on the other hand, when he denies Christ, remembers Jesus’ prophecy, and weeps bitterly at his own behavior. He begins the process of remorse and repentance. The start of such transformation is powerful, and while it may not be necessarily likely at our tables, it flies in the face of the prospect that unity without repentance is desirable.

In the other example, citing Matthew and Simon as political opposites who manage to work together as Jesus’ disciples, proponents of political unity across differences miss the very political harmony of following Jesus. Surely, Matthew and Simon, though not extensively written about, seem to have differing viewpoints about the world. But when Jesus calls them, he calls them to drop everything and follow him. They repent and transform to follow Jesus on his journey of repentance and revealing the Kingdom of God. Such transformation is a necessary consequence of following Jesus and rather than tolerate political differences, we should spur each other on to follow Jesus in our political actions.

While the practical application politics of Jesus may be up for debate, it’s clear they are centered on filling the valleys and lowering the hills, liberating the oppressed, and freeing the captives. Following Jesus offers a specific political framework, and even though it cannot be encapsulated in an American political party, it is clear that Trump’s agenda of bigotry and hatred opposes the politics of Jesus.

Far from tolerating these political differences, some of which have proven to be literally deadly, I’m not sure Jesus would even show up at a politically divided Thanksgiving table. In fact, Jesus readily acknowledged that his Gospel would tear families apart, and he moved toward creating a new family and a new humanity altogether. If you have the opportunity to dine with your chosen family, and if being with your given one is too stressful or unhealthy, it is entirely acceptable to decline to go to the family gathering.

For my part, I will visit my family, for the sake of my children, but I won’t be talking about politics. Frankly, I am too incensed at my family’s political choices to enjoy or profit from such discourse. In my younger years, I would have gone to battle, but these days, those arguments end up leaving me discouraged and tattered, and I find them to be fruitless. So I will practice changing the subject or walking away when the conversation becomes too triggering. 

Setting those boundaries doesn’t mean I’m indifferent toward political differences, but rather, I am disillusioned about the efficacy of political discourse in Trump’s America. Surely, many of his supporters are not exactly media literate, and certainly, those who stayed home are offering a message to the tepid Democratic campaign, but for those who are indeed convinced Donald Trump will usher in a wave of freedom and prosperity to the U.S., there’s nothing more to say. His is so self-evidently awful, that there is little I can do to change the minds of the already-convinced.

But that doesn’t mean time at family gatherings is fruitless this holiday season. Certainly, we can relate and speak about other things—but I’ve found that intimacy and connection is limited by political differences. I mourn this lack of resonance with my family. 

If you are able to engage in friendly relating despite political differences, my encouragement is for you to allow yourself to be disturbed by your relatives’ complicity in fascism. Tolerating it showcases one’s own indifference to political outcomes—which are not ideological, but actually have material consequence. If fascism is not that big of a deal to you, I suppose that’s fine (and privileged), but it is not a morally superior posture, in any sense. It is a cowardly one.

For myself, I want to spend time with the soft and kind-hearted, the ones who haven’t been wrapped by the cult of MAGA. That means I’ll be at the kids' table, in many senses, with people who haven’t been toxified by Trump’s rhetoric and policy. It means sharing my experience with those who will listen, and not throwing pearls before swine. It means being at peace with dusting my heels in the face of unrepentant and proud fascists.

In fact, dusting his heels is exactly what Jesus would do to a table full of people who wouldn’t hear the truth, and when he sends his disciples out to minister, that is exactly what he tells them to do when they face resistance. Your Thanksgiving table is no different.