Trippie is an Evangelical Pastor at Restoration Church in Buffalo. Dan is also an adjunct Professor of Ethics at Liberty University and holds a Ph.D. in Ethics from Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. Recent tragedies in Buffalo have prompted him to organize workshops offering opportunities for dialogue across divides.
In Buffalo, New York, we know the trauma of social breakdown and tragedy firsthand, but we also know the healing that happens when neighbors come together across their differences. Over the course of this past year, we have suffered an extreme blizzard with devastating loss of life; the ruthless, racially motivated murder of ten of our fellow citizens; and the firebombing of a pregnancy clinic by an extremist pro-choice group called Jane’s Revenge. In the wake of these events, Western New York evangelicals have shed countless tears alongside our neighbors. But through trauma and tears, we have been reawakened to the vision of our leader, Jesus – “Blessed are the peacemakers."
Recently, a group of evangelical leaders in our area met to relearn and practice an ancient art form – dialogue. This fall, I received a surprise call from a rabbi offering support. Rabbi Melissa Weintraub co-directs an organization, Resetting the Table, whose very mission is to build healing and transformative communication across divides. In the Evangelical community in Buffalo, we were hungry for this work.
Among the many misconceptions afloat about evangelicals is the idea that we are resistant to building bridges with our fellow Americans. These misconceptions are rooted in long-standing media distortions of our community. Type the word ‘evangelical’ into mainstream media search engines, and you will likely find a flat and demonizing caricature. Evangelicals are represented primarily as a sinister voting bloc, duped with crazed conspiracy theories, and fomenting white supremacy and hate. Extremists are highlighted as stand-ins for Evangelicalism in America today. Nuances around important questions — like what the role of Christianity in public life should be — are lost in studies and articles that conflate wide-ranging Evangelical beliefs and internal debates with the most virulent forms of Christian nationalism. These media portrayals are not without cost; 43% of Democrats say they have “unfavorable” impressions of evangelicals – more than any other group in American society.
In fact, evangelicals are a richly diverse community consisting of an estimated 25% of the American public and embodying enormous viewpoint, racial, socioeconomic, and geographic diversity. 1 in 3 American evangelicals are people of color. Structurally we are decentralized; evangelicalism has no bishop, presbytery, or ruling body. Instead, we are a tapestry of denominations, institutions, and integrated movements. We uniquely span the rural/urban divide. Our opinions are manifold and complex, not captured by the simple story of what percentage of us voted Republican in the last election.
We are bound by shared foundational beliefs: one, that the Bible is God’s inspired and authoritative word. Two, that God is the author of life, Christ came to redeem life, and life in Christ is abundant life. Three, that Jesus’ resurrection is “good news”; therefore, we must share our faith. The word “evangel” literally means “the heralding of good news.”
Around the unifying power of these beliefs, lie many differences. Despite our voting patterns, we are deeply impacted by the political polarization infecting the rest of our culture. We are divided on issues ranging from race relations to vaccine mandates to gender roles to abortion law. Like many faith communities in the U.S. today, we face corrosive tensions on these issues that many of our pastors feel ill-equipped to navigate.
When Resetting the Table approached us, we were inspired by a dual aspiration: One, to mobilize regional evangelicals to contribute to healing across divides in Greater Buffalo, in the face of tragedy and pain that risks separating us further from one another. Two, to surface our own internal differences and hard conversations, both because that is the Christian way and because it is what our community and country need.
And so, we brought together twelve ideologically and racially diverse evangelical and Southern Baptist pastors in Western New York for a two-day training with Resetting the Table. This is what we found. Our views on guns, immigration, separation of church and state, and abortion were almost as wide-ranging as the U.S. electorate. Yet the training deepened and actualized our capacity to honor each other’s dignity without backing away from our honest differences. The commitment to dig beneath these flashpoint issues to affirm the dignity in each other, even as we came at issues from rival places. That is a spirit we need to restore in our public life.
I believe evangelicals could be a force for national healing. Today’s polarized climate could offer an opportunity for evangelicals to return to a proper understanding of ourselves. After all, our doctrinal distinctiveness is fixed in a belief that God speaks to humans through inspired words. We are no strangers to the power of dialogue.
To my own community, I call on us to live up to our theology of human dignity – to see how honoring our disagreements is a way to honor our fellow-image bears of God. Maybe as we learn to listen again to those within our walls and beyond them, we can be a force for breaking down the ones dividing our nation.
To the broader public, I invite you to try to see Evangelicalism in the U.S. in all our diversity. Courageous, mutually transformative conversations can only occur when all parties feel free to speak their minds without retribution or surrendering their own convictions.
If American democracy is to endure, we must all relearn this lost art of dialectic. When we do, we will see we are not each other’s enemies, even when we vehemently disagree. And we will surely find more ways to work together, in service of our collective human flourishing.




















A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
____
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.