Following Jesus at the End of Empire

Roberto Che Espinoza, a Trans activist, theologian, and pastor reflects on what Alfred, New York, has taught him about following Jesus at the end of the US empire and amid the political crises of a second Trump presidency.

I am the 6th-full time pastor of Union University Church in Alfred, New York. We worship in the historic sanctuary of the Seventh Day Baptists, a church founded in 1854. As the pastor of Union University Church, I’ve wrestled with what it means to follow Jesus by the Spirit at the end of empire. The consequential election of 2024 has galvanized this question yet again. How, exactly, do I remain committed to Jesus amid the election of Donald Trump, with his attendant White Christian Nationalism and fascist sensibilities? 

Like many others, I’ve felt the violence of the political ideologies represented by the Trump victory. My wife, Erin, and I fled Nashville for western New York to seek sanctuary after an acceleration of fascist politics descended in Tennessee. For six years, we were harassed for speaking out against injustices like White Christofascism, White Christian nationalism, the geist of Whiteness, and the assault on the unhoused and poor. Our activism was grounded in our commitment to follow Jesus by the Spirit. I simply wanted to use my voice to speak out against the violence of empire. At the same time, I was desperate to have a good life, and the targeted harassment had taken a toll on me. We found ourselves needing to seriously consider what kind of life we wanted to have. The state politics became ever more fascistic and the targeted harassment sent me into a very dark place emotionally. Why was I being hunted by the opposition? Why was my life not valuable? Nashville, we soon realized, became unlivable. 

I had no imagination for my life when we fled Nashville, but on the 6th year anniversary of Charlottesville, we woke up in a safe house in New York. We started anew in Alfred. And I took up my vocation as a pastor. 

In this new place, being a pastor has allowed me to befriend many people in the community. I now live in a region which historically votes Republican, and there are plenty of MAGA Republicans in this area. But as a pastor, I am committed to the people here, no matter how they vote. I am cooking for them, inviting them to our community meals, and seeking to nurture a network of trust. I am also inviting the liberal progressive Democrats to the same functions. In truth, these binaries no longer work for us – perhaps they never did. Alfred has taught me that following the Spirit at the end of empire requires building relationships with anybody who is curious about possible futures, even those who might at first appear to be my enemy. 

Being committed to people also means being committed to landscapes. This work, my work of being a theologian and pastor at the end of empire, means that I must also endeavor to be in right relationship with the land, the people who grow my food and vegetables, and the more than human world. When we nurture our whole self in relationship to the community and the land, we can begin to nurture an ecology where we care for humans and nonhumans. Following Jesus by the Spirit right now means paying attention to all the varying forms of intelligence so that any repair of the fabric of our society is a repair that seeks the flourishing of the natural world too. This attention becomes all the more important as the new administration will likely create policies that will only accelerate environmental collapse.

And this attention requires faithfulness in the small things. We must endeavor to create little moves against destructiveness, something my teacher, Dr. Nancy Elizabeth Bedford, wrote a long time ago, but a phrase I return to over and over again. Being faithful in the small things also means embracing the role of adaptation in the face of ever changing politics that normalize White Christian Nationalism. When we pay attention to and discern our local responsibilities, we have better awareness of ourselves and each other. Small is all. What we pay attention to grows. When we are able to root into the ground that holds us, we are able to then extend the network that is holding the web of life together. Paradoxically, rooting ourselves in the small things, locally, will be how we put to rest the fear of scarcity and nothingness. 

What does following Jesus look like when the political institutions to which we are subject fail in helping communities to flourish – as the election has revealed? Ultimately this is a question about what kind of good life is possible at the end of empire. Now as before, I believe the good life has to be rooted in following the ways of Jesus, which means putting care at the center of all we do: care for the community, for the landscapes, and for ourselves. Putting care at the center of what we do means nurturing another possible world. Care allows us to turn inward to listen to the whisper of the genuine and the irruption of the Spirit. It also allows us to turn outward to nurture the space between our neighbors.

Jesus was clear that we are to love God and love our neighbor as ourselves. We are not called to love our country or express ourselves in patriotic manners. The question is, will we love God and through such love open ourselves to others? If God is in all things, will we seek to be in the right relationship with the land and all that is? How well will we connect with each other at a time when isolationism is accelerating? The quality of connection and connectedness will be part of our salvation at the end of the empire. When our beingness is rooted in belonging, we can live out a witness of hope against hope and nurture another possible world.

The metaphors of birthwork have become increasingly important to me in my ethics of care at the end of empire, and especially after this consequential election. I believe another possible world is being midwifed, and it is up to us whether we will become doulas who welcome the new folds of the world. 

We must also keep dreaming of another possible world because dreams keep hope alive. When I first came to Alfred, I dreamed about what it means to be a theologian, pastor, and Trans activist in these times. This past Sunday was the day that those dreams materialized. I felt the shift in dramatic ways. It was the first sermon after the presidential election. I preached on the Samaritan woman and her encounter with Jesus and read Psalm 146. I talked about how we don’t give allegiance to kings or queens, but we follow the Way of a Brown Palestinian Jew. Then, after service, Erin facilitated a post-election community care circle. After that, as the rain gently fell, Erin and I walked to our first protest in Alfred where I was asked to speak. It was my first protest since fleeing Nashville. I told them that now is the time to nurture visible and invisible ecologies. I also told them that Union University Church is a sanctuary church that will house immigrants and feed them, should there be a mass deportation targeting immigrants. Immigrants are my friends, literally, here in Alfred. When we nurture networks of trust and create conditions for networks of care to emerge, we will find ourselves with networks of solidarity. That is what we need to be doing right now at the end of empire, and to do that we must dream and we must have a practice that buoys these dreams. 

Lastly, we should all find time to meditate and pray for the world to come. Being disciplined and principled in our contemplative life will help structure our dreams so that existential dread doesn’t consume us or the gospel we are called to embody. So let us remain curious about ourselves and our neighbors as we endeavor to process the election results. We must hang onto curiosity, hope, and our mustard seeds of care in the face of hegemonies of violence. Let us join together to follow Jesus in the Spirit at the end of empire.

Roberto Che Espinoza has been a wandering nomad on the way, but is now a pastor, theologian, and cat dad nurturing visible and invisible ecologies for another possible world in Western New York.

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