To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said,
“If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples.
Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”
(John 8:31-32)

Thank you for being here today, everyone. I’m sure it would have meant a lot to The Truth that you took the time to come pay your respects. Personally, I’ve gone through a whole range of emotions these past few months, and it’s taken me a long time to write a eulogy that would really honor The Truth’s legacy while also expressing those feelings.

At first, I was in denial. When I heard the phrase “Post-Truth” being tossed around to describe our culture, I didn’t want to believe it. When Newt Gingrich said that feelings were more important than facts, I tuned him out, but he had a point. By the mid-2000s, we were already on our way to openly partisan news sources like MSNBC and Fox News. These networks figured out that the best way to keep viewers’ attention across a 24-hour news cycle was to sprinkle in bombastic, tirade-prone pundits that turned anger into entertainment— people like Bill O’Reilly, Keith Olbermann, Ann Coulter, and Ed Schultz. This worked even better when every issue was boiled down to two opposing positions so that pundits and guests could duke it out uncompromisingly. The nuance of many issues was abandoned, as were data and scientific evidence if they overwhelmingly pointed to just one side. Sure, it was a dark day for the media, but at least we entered a golden age of satire as people like Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, and Tina Fey stepped to the fore, right?

Of course, then things got really weird. Online news didn’t have any oversight, so websites like the Drudge Report could publish an exaggerated story and redact it just as quickly. But these journalistic contortions paled in comparison to the outright lies peddled by the sites that pop up on our Facebook feeds today— Breitbart, InfoWars, The Blaze, etc. Still, The Truth was hanging on. Hell, looking at the public opinion polls a few months ago, I thought The Truth was about to rally and make another go of it. A lot of us felt that way since our Facebook echo chambers were reinforcing the belief that everyone we knew agreed with us. Neither party could hear the other side anymore, and The Truth was far closer to death than we realized.

Then the inauguration happened, and my denial started to turn into anger. All along the campaign trail, Donald Trump had displayed an uneasy relationship with facts and data, but after the inauguration, the death of The Truth became undeniable. Setting aside the divisive rhetoric and the increasingly questionable decisions of Franklin Graham for a moment, let’s focus on Donald Trump’s insistence that his inauguration was the best attended in history. Press Secretary Sean Spicer defended the claim the next day in one of the most adversarial first press conferences on record, and despite clear transit data and photographic evidence, it seemed that it was enough that the Trump administration just felt like it was a larger crowd. The next morning, Kellyanne Conway finally pulled the plug on The Truth by coining a new term —“alternative facts”— to the utter horror of interviewer Chuck Todd. “Alternative fact” is of course an alternative term for falsehood, lie, or bullshit, all of which are apparently now permissible.

I looked up at The Truth’s monitors as they flatlined. The medical team rushed in, but they were unable to resuscitate The Truth due to an insurance irregularity. The Truth died among assembled journalists and politicians on Sunday morning at 11:23AM eastern time shortly before a word from our sponsors.

At first, I stayed angry, but depression soon set in. You see, I’ve studied just enough psychology to be dangerous, and I began to wonder if The Truth’s death had been inevitable all along. As it turns out, there’s a logical fallacy known as confirmation bias where people seek out only information that supports their beliefs while disregarding any information that does not. This is a normal human tendency; our media and politicians did not cause it. You and I both do it instinctively.
There’s also a related phenomenon called belief perseverance where, once a false belief is planted, any information that contradicts that belief —no matter how factual— is met with extreme denial and opposition. This is also a normal human tendency; our media and politicians did not cause it either. You and I both do it instinctively.

On the other hand, our media and politicians have always been aware of these tendencies, and they’ve been cashing in on them ever since “Remember the Maine!” Confirmation bias enables shoddy journalism to flourish, with Facebook’s fake news echo chamber algorithms being the worst offenders this election cycle. This is where I started to lose hope. What are the chances we could successfully educate the entire American public about these flaws in our thinking to make for a more informed and civil political landscape? Honestly, not good. The fake news sources and exaggeration-prone politicians were destined to win all along because of how our brains are wired. In such a world and under such conditions, why fight? Why try? Maybe it was time to give up.

But then I thought about the Women’s March and all the organized protests currently under way, and I entered my bargaining phase. “You know,” I thought to myself, “as a moderate who only leans to the left, I’ve never been that active in campaigning for justice on a larger scale. Maybe, just maybe, if I get involved and campaign hard enough and cry out loud enough, I can help bring The Truth back.” I had already missed the Women’s March, but there were so many chances to write to representatives, share articles, and speak out on local politics. I quickly discovered that the possibilities for political involvement were limitless. The Dakota Access Pipeline, human rights protections for LGBTQ Americans, equal pay and rights for women, alleviation of extreme poverty, access to quality healthcare, protection of refugees— there are so many causes that need to be championed in the Post-Truth Age.

But then a new feeling hit me: they’re not going to listen. It’s not going to change.
The Truth hasn’t been dead long, but we’re all so far beyond the point of listening. I still hold that, in this past election, no one felt that they were being heard, and that made the conflict so much more bitter. If we couldn’t listen to each other back in 2016, how will 2017 be any different? How can we create real change in such a political climate? And this is where the tough lesson comes.

2017 may indeed be no different. In fact, with questionable journalism and lying politicians, it’s not off to a great start. But it’s unmasked a major alternative fact that we believed for far too long: that we could be saved through the political process. For too long, we’ve allowed our faith to be shaped by our national and political identities instead of the other way around, and this election cycle has been a wakeup call.

We’ve assumed that America is a chosen nation when, really, this may just be our turn at the top of the dogpile, and we need to be okay with that.
We’ve blurred the line between God’s will and our own for too long.
We’ve forgotten that “God bless America” is meant as a request, not a statement.
We’ve thirsted for Empire instead of thirsting for Kingdom.
Is America a great place to live? Of course it is.
Are our leaders and systems still flawed? Well, yeah.
Do crappy things still happen here? Oh, absolutely.
Do those crappy things happen to women, people of color, immigrants, and the LGBTQ community at a disproportionately high rate? You better believe it.
America is not perfect.
And here’s another tough one:
it’s also not permanent.
We’ll eventually reach a time and place in which being an American no longer matters.
Remember that there are no Americans in Heaven,
just as there are no Jews, Greeks, Barbarians, Scythians, slaves, free, and so on;
there are only God’s People and God’s Kingdom,
an identity which transcends the countries of today.

As we await that Kingdom’s arrival, we’re called on to fight for the weak and the oppressed and to do so in a loving way. For me, that means getting active on some of the issues outlined in this eulogy, but for you, it may look different, and that’s okay, but we have to keep our focus on God. We have to fight not to lose ourselves in the sea of alternative facts and half-truths and exaggerations and outright lies that win our allegiances to parties and platforms instead of people.
Remember that a politician will not and cannot save you.
Remember that a politician cannot legislate your soul.
Instead, we must cling to the basic commands of Christ:
love God, love neighbor, protect the powerless, and keep the faith.
If we do these things, then maybe,
just maybe,
The Truth’s faint heartbeat will still be heard.