Is This the Politics We Want?

By Michael Wear

Sunday, February 08, 2026

 

President Donald Trump returned to the National Prayer Breakfast Thursday to use and abuse that forum as he has in the past. As he has with so many other institutions in our civic life, Trump has thrown the very viability of the prayer breakfast into question.                 

 

I have attended the annual National Prayer Breakfast often over the past two decades. When I served in the White House, I helped the president prepare for the event. The National Prayer Breakfast is not a perfect event by any means, but it plays a powerful, and potentially edifying, role in our politics, as I wrote about extensively in my first book.

 

Historically, one of its functions has been to position presidents and political leaders in such a way that they are humbled. Typically, the breakfast leads a president to offer remarks that reflect on the ways he has fallen short, and to acknowledge the nation’s reliance on grace that politics and politicians can’t provide.

 

The breakfast places our political conflicts in the context of a bigger story and reorients the purpose of politics toward higher, better ends. The American people get to see elected officials from both parties pray with and for one another. They pray for the good of the country and of the world together.

 

In 2008, President George W. Bush spoke of how, in prayer, “We grow in meekness and humility.” He shared how prayer helped him meet the challenges of the presidency. In 2011, President Barack Obama reflected that “In this life of politics when debates have become so bitterly polarized, and changes in the media lead so many of us just to listen to those who reinforce our existing biases, it’s useful to go back to Scripture to remind ourselves that none of has all the answers—none of us, no matter what our political party or our station in life.”

 

The prayer breakfast has its flaws, as does every politician who has spoken at it. Like so many other events in Washington, the prayer breakfast can also be a place to network, to be seen, to advance oneself or one’s cause. It is disheartening to see politicians attend the breakfast and nod their heads to appeals to civility, only to return to their offices to issue incendiary statements and bad-faith press releases. It can be difficult to hear from politicians who speak at the breakfast in support of policy views you view to be in tension with—if not outright contradiction to—how you apply your faith to public policy. Like so many of our institutions, the event largely relies on the intentions and character of those who attend and those who speak at it. But this is the primary weakness of so many of our institutions and our politics: It can’t completely get around the character of its participants. 

 

But it was not until Donald Trump that a president went to the breakfast to make so much of himself, and so little of God. And he does it every year.

 

To object to Trump’s conduct at a forum like the National Prayer Breakfast does not require, and cannot be excused by, one’s party affiliation or preferred policy agenda. His behavior can’t be rationalized by the idea that “we elect a president, not a pastor.” When Trump enters religious settings, he does not just bring disagreement—which would be his right. No,  he shows up to co-opt the gathering—and the faith itself—for his purposes.

 

It was at the 2020 National Prayer Breakfast during his first term, following a keynote address by Arthur Brooks on the dangers of contempt and Jesus’ imperative of “loving your enemies,” that Trump mocked Jesus’ teaching. He later would do the same at a memorial service for one of his most stalwart supporters.

 

On Thursday, at an event that intentionally features Republican and Democratic members of Congress and that purposely recruits and welcomes Democrats to attend, Trump used the podium to express that he “doesn’t know how a person of faith can vote for a Democrat. I really don’t. And I know we have some here today and I don’t know why they’re here.”

 

At a breakfast convened by people who believe in the power of the Holy Spirit, Trump took credit for having “brought back the word Christmas,” and declared “religion is back now hotter than ever before.” He claims a lot, this president, and demands Christians give him their gratitude in return. This includes the release of Mariam Ibrahim, a persecuted Sudanese Christian, who was imprisoned and sentenced to death in Sudan. “I did that,” Trump claimed. “I did that. I did that with one phone call, actually.” One problem: Ibrahim was released in 2014, more than two years before Trump would become president. He didn’t bring back Christmas, religion, or Mariam Ibrahim. But he demands Christians’ loyalty. He mocks Christians’ deepest beliefs to their face, then tells them they’re lucky to have him.

 

There is little new to be observed about Donald Trump. He is remarkably transparent about who he is and what he cares about. But, increasingly, I have been reflecting on the choices Americans have to make that do not center Trump, the choices that are not obfuscated by the essential binary nature of most elections. These are the choices that can’t be answered by saying, “At least he isn’t as bad as [Hillary Clinton or Joe Biden or Kamala Harris].” 

 

Will we be impressed by politicians who simply do not lie as brazenly as Trump does? Will we feel privileged to have candidates who are better at obscuring their disdain for large swaths of the American people? Will we embrace Trump’s use of government to punish and marginalize those who oppose him, and grant the government’s imprimatur to those who support him? Will we accept that all of our worst impulses, all of our most tender divisions, will serve as mere fodder for campaigns and playthings for political strategists?

 

This last decade of American politics cannot become the new standard. If it does, few of our institutions will survive. I know people who have attended and served at the prayer breakfast for decades and walked out of it Thursday. I don’t think they walked out merely because of what Trump said, but because they could see how what Trump was saying was changing, revealing, and defining the whole atmosphere of the event.

 

This is the danger, of course. That everything will orient around this man. That he will succeed in making everything subject to his interests and his whims. He’s willing to do it with God, and he’s certainly willing to do it with the country. Our nation’s choice about whether to elect him is in the past, but the choice we have to make about whether we will become like him is ongoing.

 

Trump’s remarks forced that choice on people in the room at the prayer breakfast. They had to decide whether they would turn to the Democratic friend they invited to the breakfast, and tell them Trump was wrong and that they belonged there as much as anyone else did, or to let Trump’s bullying go unanswered. House Speaker Mike Johnson has to decide whether he will object to Trump, who seems to think it’s overkill for the speaker to dedicate his meal to God in prayer, leading an event to “rededicate America as one nation under God.”

 

Trump was at the prayer breakfast because he is the president. He is who he is. The real question is what culture, what norms, what commitments are present at the prayer breakfast that can stand up to Trump’s influence. His very presence there must prompt reflection: What do we really believe? What are we willing to stake our reputation on? What are we willing to accept, and what will we not tolerate? What kind of people will we be? What do we really want?

 

Of course, these are the kinds of questions we all must answer anew. Our political, cultural, and educational institutions must answer these questions. We must answer these questions in our communities, in our families, in our hearts. We can no longer allow ourselves to consider politics as something that happens to us. Politicians, influencers, and conflict merchants must not set the standards for our conduct or our expectations for what our politics can become.

 

There is no better year than 2026, the 250^th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, for Americans to recover their sense of civic agency. Doing so opens all kinds of opportunities. But if we choose instead to continue to allow ourselves to be captivated by personality unmoored from principle, binary choices will be all we will have left. It’s a great republic we have, if we can keep it.