Brooks: Bishop Mariann Budde, after Trump confrontation, tells Minnesotans: Save your worry for others

Last week, we watched corporations, institutions and nations bow to President Donald Trump’s worst whims.

And then we saw one of Minnesota’s own stand and ask him to be better.

The Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde, Episcopal bishop of Washington, turned the last moments of her sermon before the incoming president into a cry for mercy for all the people he terrorized in his first days back in power. The immigrants. The trans kids. The civil servants.

Her call for decency provoked furious, caps-locked social media insults from the president. It also inspired so many orders for Budde’s book, “How We Learn to Be Brave,” that the publisher is scrambling to restock.

Budde spoke out when it would have been safer and easier to stay silent. Some find that extraordinary. Budde, who spent 18 years in Minneapolis as rector of St. John’s Episcopal Church before her move to Washington, says she didn’t say anything that millions of Americans haven’t said, and will continue to say, every day. She just said it to the president’s face.

“Please tell Minnesota I’m doing just fine,” she said with a smile during a Monday videoconferencing interview with the Minnesota Star Tribune.

“I have a lot of people who are supporting me. The people we should be worrying about are not the bishop of the diocese of Washington,” Budde added “There are a lot of other people whose lives are in much more vulnerable and precarious states. Every day something new is happening that gives us cause for concern.”

In between the hate mail and the fan mail of the past week, Budde received one message that gave her hope.

It was a former colleague, a laywoman, who had worked with Budde for years on a project.

The email, Budde said, went something like this: “Dear Mariann. I’m reaching out in love to you. In full disclosure, I love Donald Trump and I love you. But I also want you to know that I know you’re doing what you believe is right.”

That short note made her think that someday Americans will be able to talk with each other, not just about each other, again. But maybe not right now.

Right now, the president is scrapping any pretense of diversity, equity, inclusion, kindness or mercy. Institutions around the country are happily following suit.

Target’s dedication to diversity and inclusion turned out to be as flimsy and as destined for the landfill as its saccharine line of Pride merch.

The Lakeville school board meets Tuesday to debate whether to scrap its “inclusive poster series,” featuring a multicultural array of children surrounding friendly messages like “We are stronger together,” “Everyone is welcome, everyone belongs,” and “In diversity there is beauty and there is strength.”

When it feels like all the advances of the past generations are being ripped out by the roots, Budde is trying to plant new seeds. When met with contempt, she tries to respond with understanding.

“There are forces that benefit from keeping us outraged at each other and demonizing each other, and that’s very very powerful right now,” Budde said. “I’m not saying I don’t have strong feelings. My heart is broken and I’m doing my best to pastor people whose lives are in great vulnerability and uncertainty.”