A vibes-only DNC

I would rather do almost anything than watch any political party’s national convention, what with flexible schedules, speakers going long, people being in love with the sound of their own voices, people inflating their own sense of importance (“This year’s DNC brought to you by Lil Jon!”), and nothing ever changing in the aftermath. It sounds too much like a university faculty meeting to be something I would ever voluntarily choose to observe. Especially when all this preseason football isn’t going to watch itself! I mean, I need to see how Trey Lance fares against the Raiders’ backups. It’s important.

The election will take care of itself, by which I mean I really hope it’s not fixed and that my vote actually matters. But I’m not confident about that, and in the meantime, I want to watch some free-agent offensive linemen.

That said, this year’s Democratic National Convention in Chicago felt a little bit like an NBA Legends Brunch, whose implicit message is something along the lines of “Hey, remember when the league didn’t stink and people cared? That was great!” In rolling out Bill Clinton (Mr. Convention), the Obamas (“Hey, hope! Or something!”), the usual litany of self-parodying celebrities (like secular saint Oprah equating abortion with the American dream), and burying Joe Biden at 11:30 on a Monday night, the message in the aggregate was “Policies schmolicies, we hate Trump!” This raises the question, is hating something enough to not only win an election but also provide nourishment for the soul?

On Monday night, former President Donald Trump was mentioned 147 times, compared with a paltry 27 mentions of the economy (kind of important), eight references to the border, six comments on crime, and a combined eight remarks concerning prices and inflation (also a big deal lately). It’s like your buddy who insists he’s over the girl he dumped but can’t stop talking about her.

Biden’s address was, unsurprisingly, bitter and self-justifying, with a heaping dose of “If I say something is true then it must be!” thrown in along with “The economy is fixed and prices aren’t actually horrendous! I fixed it!” Even though I disagree with basically everything Biden has ever stood for, it made me sad to see an old man arguing for his legacy on the way out. It felt very Book of Ecclesiastes, like a meaningless grasping at the wind. I want better for all old men, even for American presidents I don’t care for. I felt like Bob Sugar eating a sandwich and waving goodbye derisively as Jerry Maguire cleaned out his desk or like Curly Bill Brocius in the scene in Tombstone where the Earps are leaving town and he says, “Well … bye.”

We have plenty of data that would suggest that the answer to the “Is hating something enough” question is “no.” Lots of self-important movements have petered out once the thrill of hating someone was gone. I mean, many an emergent church (RIP) started on the platform of “We’re not traditional!” and “We have to rethink everything, including the Bible!” The emergent church (RIP) knew what it was “against” without ever really being “for” anything. Most of those churches are now Crumbl Cookie franchises or hot yoga studios. Nourishment of the soul, as it turns out, is a more elusive target. Hope, in our context as Christians, has to be rooted in more than bumper sticker wisdom or a line in a speech.

President Biden insists that he eradicated hate in America (irony, anyone?), ending our long winter, and preserving “democracy,” or whatever he’s calling it. It remains to be seen if vibes are enough to deliver another election.