Not hating Donald Trump . . .

but not loving him either

“Love your enemies . . .” Jesus (Matthew 5:44).

Supporters of Donald Trump consistently tell me: “Marlin, you have to love your enemies.”

In response to this well-intentioned admonition, I’d like to make a few points of clarification. First and foremost, Donald Trump is not my enemy, nor am I his. In many respects, the two of us are on the same side. Mr. Trump is a citizen of the United States, the same as me. President Trump self-identifies as a Christian, and because the verses that follow “love your enemies” warn against judging (7:1), I’m going to accept his word at face value. (There are those who wonder about my faith, so who am I to throw the first stone?)

But I will acknowledge what is already well known: I don’t like Donald Trump.

Jesus and Herod

On the note of “love your enemies,” I wonder about Jesus. Specifically, how did Jesus respond when tested to love those he didn’t like? One such moment came when Jesus faced Herod Antipas, the man who had Jesus’ cousin John the Baptist beheaded. On the morning of his crucifixion, our Lord was brought to Herod’s palace. Herod questioned Jesus and taunted him by asking for a miracle. In response, the Gospel of Luke tells us: “[H]e uttered not a word” (23:7-15). I wonder if this scene depicted Jesus not hating, but not loving either.

We are not enemies, but neighbors

The challenge for me is to see Donald Trump as a neighbor. “Love your neighbor as yourself . . .” Jesus said (Luke 10:27). When Jesus is asked to identity this neighbor to be loved, he tells the Good Samaritan story (10:25-37). In this familiar parable the Jew who was cared for by the Samaritan was an actual enemy to the caregiver. Therefore, Jesus’ shocking point is that even your enemy is your neighbor!

But that doesn’t mean I have to vote for him

So, I am trying to love Donald Trump. But he will not get my vote. The reason I’m rooting for Joe is because Joe is the better human being.

The character of the president of the United States of America deeply matters. The podcast It was said recently featured the farewell speech given by President Ronald Reagan as he left the White House. Narrator Jon Meacham remarked that “most Americans, whether they agreed or not with everything Reagan said or did, felt good waking up with him as president.” 

This statement could be made of President Obama too. Reagan and Obama shared a common decency, a goodness, a selflessness that we could feel and respect regardless of politics. As they left their posts, the words used by a majority of those polled were “compassionate, straightforward, and honest.” These words do not describe Donald Trump.

As you put Joe Biden and Donald Trump in the comparison seat, which one would you like your daughter to marry?

Vote for him.

The 60s, The Donald and me

Trump and I are nearly the same age—he’s two years my senior.  We were both teenagers in the 60s. Perhaps you remember the 60s: Vietnam, Civil Rights, MLK/JFK/RFK all assassinated. Maybe you studied this history in school (although many students never get taught American history past the U.S. saving the world in WW II). For me, at least, the 60s was a frightening time to be a young man. Vietnam was a scary place and I did not want to go there. So I went to college. Mr. Trump went to college too.

I received four college deferments. Then in my senior year (1969), at the age of 21, I had the luck of the draw with number 258 (numbers 195 and below were called to serve). Like me, Trump received four college deferments, then one for bone spurs that classified him 1-Y—drafted in emergency situations only. After the 1-Y classification was abolished, President Trump was reclassified as 4-F—medically unable to serve (again, for bone spurs).

Our president sites his own high lottery number, #356, as the reason he didn’t go to Vietnam. “I was lucky,” he says. Indeed, because in 1969 when the lottery was held, Trump was 23 and almost two years out of college. So what kept him stateside during the period in between, for over a year and a half? The point is that it was not the lottery that kept Trump from the draft, but the bone spurs.

What actually matters is that both Trump and I dodged the draft.

But some didn’t

The sad truth on the subject of the 60s draft is that it was grossly unfair and unjust. Those young men who did not go to college, for whatever reason, were shipped to Vietnam. If this truly was my generation’s war, then my name should have been in the same barrel as theirs.

The system stunk to high heaven, and even people living in the high-rise apartments of Manhattan should have smelled it.

John McCain

Compare Donald and Marlin to one of my generation’s heroes: John Sidney McCain III (1936–2018).

John McCain served in Vietnam. He was shot down on October 26, 1967 and held captive until March 14, 1973. During his captivity he was beaten repeatedly with bones broken then broken again and again. He was starved, mistreated in the worst possible ways. After one particularly savage beating, McCain agreed to a taped confession of war crimes. This recording was then played over the camp loudspeakers and a copy sent to his father, then commander of all U.S. forces in the Vietnam theater. Even during the last days of his life, McCain talked of his shame in that confession. “I failed,” he said.

My God, Senator, no you did not. For you to apologize for giving in under such duress makes me weep.

For our president, who avoided the draft, to say that John Sidney McCain III is not “a war hero because he was captured” makes me very, very mad. And I’m not letting go of that anger until an apology is offered to the McCain family. And the chance of this president apologizing has the same odds that Fred Trump’s son would ever have to go to Vietnam.

And frankly, I do not understand how anyone of my generation, especially those of you like me who didn’t go, can stomach the gall of a draft dodger demeaning a man like John McCain. If you served, and this is okay with you, then I’ll step aside for you. But please, if you are willing, help me understand how you can chose a person like Trump over one like McCain. And I believe it is that simple.

Decent people in distinguished positions

We are all faced with the challenge over who gets our vote. What if the criteria was not party or policy, but decency—good, honorable people who do the right thing no matter what the personal cost. We have become so cynical that we don’t think these kinds of people exist in politics. But John McCain, though imperfect, was decent and honorable, and I want to believe that he was not the exception.

Joe Biden’s story is almost as compelling as McCain’s, at least in terms of his suffering and the character that develops in its wake. If Senator McCain were alive today, he’d tell you to vote for Joe. John can’t announce his endorsement, but his wife Cindy is alive and well and publicly supporting Joe Biden, a man in whom she sees her husband.

My husband John lived by a code: country first. We are Republicans, yes, but Americans foremost. There’s only one candidate in this race who stands up for our values as a nation, and that is @JoeBiden.

Joe and I don’t always agree on the issues, and I know he and John certainly had some passionate arguments, but he is a good and honest man. He will lead us with dignity. He will be a commander in chief that the finest fighting force in the history of the world can depend on, because he knows what it is like to send a child off to fight.

Cindy McCain—now that’s a person I like.