The reckoning, if we are honest, is long overdue. Every July 4, our prayer book reminds us of our failure to stand against the enslavement of Black Americans with a prayer for Independence Day claiming that “the founders of this country won liberty for themselves and for us.” But not all of us. The Episcopal Church did not make a moral stand against slavery, and some of our eminent leaders were pillars of the transatlantic slave trade. Our church ran residential schools for Indigenous children at which they were denied their culture and God-given humanity. And in the mid-20th century, our foreign missions aligned with U.S. foreign policy in Asia and the Pacific, and in Central America and the Caribbean.

The history of the church in Nazi Germany is a cautionary tale about how Christians can falter in perilous times. Some Christians in that time and place sided with the Reich based on their theological tradition of nationalism and loyalty to the state. Others, who came to be called the Confessing Church, became determined that they needed to oppose the government’s interference in religion. They resisted the Nazi regime — some, like Lutheran theologian and pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer, to the death.

But the Confessing Church’s resistance was not primarily based in resistance to the Nazis’ deadly and dehumanizing antisemitism, but rather in its belief in the autonomy of the institutional church and its resulting desire to block state interference in church affairs. The last six months has heightened my understanding of that impulse, and I do not intend to diminish the witness of the Confessing Church — especially that of Bonhoeffer, who was brutally executed by the Nazi regime less than a month before the end of the war in Europe. Its history, however, teaches us that when we are awash in propaganda, even our resistance can be bound by its definitions and incline us to see the world in the same categories — foreigner and neighbor, cisgender and transgender, white and people of color, Christian and Muslim — that we seek to transcend.

These historical lessons are urgent. Churches like ours, protected by the First Amendment and practiced in galvanizing people of goodwill, may be some of the last institutions capable of resisting this administration’s overreach and recklessness. To do so faithfully, we must see beyond the limitations of our tradition and respond not in partisan terms, but as Christians who seek to practice our faith fully in a free and fair democracy.