By Rev. Dr. Kharma R. Amos, Minister of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Brunswick, Maine
Some prayers are spoken. Some are sung. And some take the form of a pen filling in an oval on a paper ballot, in a school gym or a church basement, on a Tuesday in November.
On Wednesday afternoon, I stood in Lewiston beside a bus with four words painted on its side: The Vote Is Sacred. The nonpartisan tour, organized nationally by Interfaith Alliance, is crossing fifteen states this fall. Here in Maine, Multifaith Justice Maine and the Maine Council of Churches hosted it. I stood with colleagues from Christian, Jewish, Muslim, and other spiritual traditions, united around two convictions: the vote must be protected, and every voter carries inherent dignity. It moved me more than I expected.
It also sobered me. My friend and colleague, the Rev. Dr. Jodi Cohen Hayashida, shared that as organizers prepared for the press conference, they learned that the far-right propaganda publication, The Maine Wire, had stationed itself at Lewiston City Hall, where immigrant voters were casting their ballots. I want to amplify her words because she named it better than I can:
“This home-grown harassment reflects a larger national effort to intimidate vulnerable voters in our communities — our neighbors, our loved ones — and keep them from using their voices and the power of their own vote. Every one of our faith traditions refutes this harassment and intimidation. Every one of our faith traditions calls us into solidarity, not just today, but in the days to come.”
Solidarity, not just today. That is the heart of it.
The tour takes its name from the late Congressman John Lewis, a civil rights leader and Baptist minister, who called the vote “precious, almost sacred.” He knew the cost. He bled for it on a bridge in Selma.
Why would people of faith call a civic act sacred? Not because any party or candidate is holy. I won’t tell you whom to vote for. I will ask you to vote, and to make sure your neighbors can, too.
Nearly every tradition teaches that each person carries something precious: the image of God, the spark of the divine, or, as my Unitarian Universalist faith puts it, inherent worth and dignity. At its best, democracy puts that belief into public practice. One person, one vote. The newly naturalized citizen and the eighth-generation Mainer count exactly the same. No one gets to stand at the door and decide otherwise.
So check on your neighbors. Offer a ride. Help someone find their polling place. And if you see a voter being watched or hassled, stand beside them. A quiet, calm presence is its own kind of prayer.
Election Day is Tuesday, Nov. 3, and early voting is already underway. Make a plan. Bring someone with you. And when you step into that little booth, know that you are doing something holy. You are saying with your whole self that you belong to this community, and that it belongs to you.