After my Christmas sermon, a few people reached out to me. They were kind, but they suggested that perhaps I was exaggerating. They felt I was being a bit too anxious. “Bishop,” they implied, “it isn’t going to happen. Nobody is going to create a list. We are a civilized nation.”

On Christmas day, I shared how “It always starts with a list.” How King Herod began his work by making a list. That list ended in the mass murder of innocents. It is a sobering realization that Jesus began his life in the shadow of trauma caused by an evil thug, a leader who became so consumed by his own insecurity that he used administrative tools to facilitate slaughter.

History tells us that when the Nazi leadership began their work, the lists were often framed with the best of intentions—for administrative order, for census, for “organization.” Then, this past Wednesday, the news broke. The administration has directed the University of Pennsylvania to submit a list of Jewish students and faculty. The stated reason? To “protect” them.

I read those words and the hair on my arms stood up. This is exactly, word for word, the logic used to round up people in 1930s Germany.

As the lawyers for the American Association of University Professors and the American Academy of Jewish Research wrote in their response: “Compiling and turning over to the government ‘lists of Jews’ conjures a terrifying history.”

I am not here to interpret anyone’s private intentions. I do not know what is in the hearts of those making these demands. But I do know how evil works. Every great evil in history presents itself first as a great good. If it were ugly and obvious, we would run from it. But evil is clever; it dresses in noble clothing. It presents itself as desirable, as protective, as the only way to lead a “lawful” and “dignified” life.

People often ask me, “Bishop, does the Devil exist?”

I have no clearer answer than the words of Jesus. If I were to paraphrase the scriptures, I would say: The deceiver is a liar. The deceiver is the one who misleads us so that we no longer see humanity—the image of God—in the “other.” The deceiver makes us believe that a list is a shield, when history proves it is usually a target.

I want to be clear: the notes I have been posting these days are not intended to add to our collective anxiety. My goal is not to stir up fear for fear’s sake. Rather, I share these thoughts to keep us awake to the reality unfolding around us. We cannot afford to be sleeping through these moments as many did in Germany, simply because the reality was couched in the language of law, order, and national security. When injustice is dressed in the suit of a gentleman, it is easy to nod off. But we must stay awake.

I am reminded of the words of the German theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who watched his own church fall silent as the lists were being made:

“Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.”

The scriptures warn us to be “wise as serpents and innocent as doves” (Matthew 10:16). Wisdom requires us to look past the “protection” and see the precedent.

I leave you with these reflective questions:

* How do I see evil when it wears the mask of safety? Am I able to look past the “noble” intention to see the destructive power hiding beneath the surface?

* How do I see suffering in my neighbor? Do I recognize their pain as my own, or does a government label make it easier for me to look away from their individual face?

* How do I see disrespect when it is coded as “policy”? Do I notice when a human being is reduced to a data point, and does that loss of dignity bother my soul?

Martin Niemöller, a prominent German anti-Nazi theologian and Lutheran pastor who famously confessed his own initial complicity in the rise of the regime, famously wrote about the creeping silence of the “normal” class:

“First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist... Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”

I pray that I am wrong. I pray that my anxiety is misplaced. But I see the ledger being opened, and I hear the scratching of the pen. I cannot be silent. We must see the image of God in every person, not as a name on a government list, but as a beloved child of God.

The Ledger of Good Intentions: A Warning.

How We Learn to Be Brave: Decisive Moments in Life and Faith Bishop of Washington, Mariann Edgar Budde

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