At National Cathedral, the Doors Were Open Wide for An Election Vigil

The Washington Post / Robin Givhan

13:58 JST, November 6, 2024

Much of the nation’s capital was already surrounded by fencing, cowering behind Jersey barriers and barricaded behind sheets of raw plywood in preparation for the results of a seemingly endless yet whiplash-inducing presidential election. The city was in a defensive crouch, waiting for something inevitable and terrible to happen. But on Election Day, Washington National Cathedral’s ornate iron doors were open wide. Fresh air blew through the soaring vestibule, and light streamed in through the stained-glass windows.

It was an ostentatious rebuke to boarded-up Washington, a gregarious welcome to anyone who might be passing by. And many people were. They came for the election vigil – two days during which the cathedral doors were unlocked from morning to night and clergy prayed and, in multiple services, including an interfaith one Tuesday afternoon, called on a higher power for a free and fair election and a population willing to believe that such a thing is still possible.

The capital might be fearful of what its citizens and visitors are capable of as the votes are counted, and what they might get up to after the final tally is known. But some still have faith that the country has the capacity to muddle through just fine. Keeping the cathedral doors open was an act of patriotism and grace.

“We ask that You inspire our leaders, elected or about to be, with the ability to love unconditionally, to serve passionately, and to become a voice of truth and justice vigorously,” prayed Imam Yahya Hendi during the interfaith service.

Despite its name, the gothic cathedral in Northwest Washington is not federally funded. It isn’t a place where government and religion conspire. It is, instead, a calm port in the storm of daily life. It’s the grand Episcopalian edifice where a nation comes to mourn its presidents, to commemorate its statesmen, and to remember the lives of those who have elevated the culture or whose deaths have forever transformed it. Former president George H.W. Bush was memorialized at Washington National Cathedral. So were Sen. John McCain (R-Arizona), Secretary of State Madeleine Albright and Colin L. Powell. Helen Keller is buried in the cathedral, and the ashes of Matthew Shepard are interred there. The cathedral, sited on a hill with a view of the U.S. Capitol, is a place where the country comes to consider its morality, to reflect on its leadership and to aspire to be better.

The cathedral is a reflection of our democracy. And so, it had security. Doesn’t every place? But it remained unobtrusive. For visitors, the only sign was a single guard who stood off to the side. He was there just in case. He didn’t represent a disheartening presumption of unrest or failure. He didn’t upend the expectation of solace.

“There’s a sense of comfort here, that I’m with a like-minded community that cares,” said Mia Silverman, 75. She was visiting from Santa Monica, California, spending a few months in the city as her husband receives care at the National Institutes of Health. She was with her longtime friends Pam Covington and Eleanor Dunn, both 80, and they were all Harris-Walz supporters who, after voting, just wanted to ease their anxiety with something other than cocktails and doomscrolling. More than anything, aside from a Harris victory, Covington said, they wanted “a peaceful transfer of power.”

So they came to the cathedral in their sneakers and athleisure wear on a glorious fall day in hopes that the next day and the one after that and the one after that would be just as glorious, that they wouldn’t turn into mayhem. That neither patriotism, freedom nor faith would be weaponized against democracy.

“There are times when what matters is not that we, in any sense, feel safe in the hands of God, but that God is safe in our hands,” said the Right Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde in her remarks.

Some 300 people attended the cathedral’s afternoon service. There was an abundance of gray-haired visitors in the rows of chairs – people who had marched and protested over the course of their lives, people who’d seen both the best and the worst of the country. Silverman and her friends had canvassed and cajoled. There was nothing left to do but wait.

The cathedral held an election vigil in 2016. Not too many people came on that Election Day, when a Hillary Clinton victory seemed destined. But the following day, after Donald Trump’s unexpected victory, the cathedral, which can hold some 4,000 people, was packed. There was another vigil in 2020. The cathedral opened after it had been shut down by the coronavirus pandemic, and the country was tied in knots over the contest between Joe Biden and Trump.

Now, in 2024, every fear (rational and irrational), every ghastly prejudice about every kind of person, every possible threat to democracy, including all of those angry men hopped up on bro culture, were rolled into the election. But so was the desire to move toward something better, familiar and, also, historic.

“Daily we pray to You to subdue the arrogant in our time. On this Election Day and every day, help us to subdue the arrogance within ourselves,” prayed Rabbi Susan Shankman.

Women will make the difference in this race. Or maybe Black men will be the deciding factor at the polls. Or Latinos. Or maybe young people will lead the way, or all those older women who lived through a time before Roe v. Wade who are incensed that they’re once again fighting for reproductive rights. Or maybe men who want a return to the American greatness they perceived under Trump.

The doors to the cathedral were open to them all – the equivalent of a straight-spined, open-armed, fearless stance. Everyone was welcome to pray and reflect. That alone won’t save democracy, but it can’t hurt.