Something weird is going on these days. I write a blog post, but before I could post it events take place that make what I wrote feel less immediate, so I write something else, and before I could post that something else happens which brings up new thoughts and feelings. I find myself writing posts whose relevance changes from moment to moment, so I end up with drafts that never get finalized or posted.

Friday night I felt deep hurt and shame after reading about the exchange between Ukrainian President Zelensky and representatives of our government. I have written more than once that Trump is an agent of destruction, but it took that Friday meeting to help me get how far his destructiveness stretches, not just in this country but in others, too.

As is my practice, I hurried to read what his defenders had to say, and the essence of their position is that bullying and intimidation are his ways of making deals, which is how he sees Ukraine and practically everything else that comes up. Everything is a business deal, everything is a commodity. Relationships, democracy, co-existence are worse than meaningless. When he sees something like Romeo and Juliet, he doesn’t think that it’s a great play or story, he thinks of two things: Will it make for great ratings, and can he monetize it.

But I owe it to Ross Douthat, a conservative columnist for The New York Times, who quoted Henry Kissinger saying as follows in 2018: “Donald Trump may be one of those figures in history who appears from time to time to mark the end of an era and to force it to give up its old pretenses.” That got my attention.

Earlier Friday evening I went with friends to see the one-woman show at UMass/Amherst: Kristina Wong, Food Bank Influencer. A brazen and magnificent performance artist, Wong presented a show full of music, humor, and information about food banks that supply free food to the hungry. I laughed and sang along with everyone else, but about halfway through I felt as though someone had kicked me in the gut.

She told of the many millions who don’t know where their next meal is coming from, including many college students (did you know that almost 200 colleges actually have food banks on campus?) and especially the working class. Half of those who’re “food insecure” and half of the homeless population work at least 40 hours a week, and then retreat into Walmart parking areas in order to sleep in their cars, often alongside their little children (afraid that otherwise, their children will be taken away into foster care).

They’re not welfare mothers and cheats profiting from the system (thank you, Ronald Reagan), they work hard and simply can’t make enough money to pay for three meals a day or for minimal housing.

Who are they? Not street people you see but don’t really see. They may have served us dinner in the neighborhood restaurant we ate in before the performance. They’re the aproned employees standing by the ovens and making me a slice of pizza. They’re the gang who descended on the house last fall to take down the old roof and insert a new one, a big necessity for us. And—they don’t eat and don’t have a roof over their heads.

Instead, they put themselves on lists for Section 8 vouchers to find low-income housing they can afford, waiting lasts that extend for at least 5 years. After feeding us, they stand on long lines for food that is often heavily processed and not nutritional, and they admit to feeling ashamed of their own unfulfilled needs and lack. In this system, they’re losers, and should be ashamed.

There’s nothing accidental about this. The system is designed to have a bottom, and they’re the people at the bottom.

How is this possible in a proud, rich democracy? How did a government of the people, by the people, and for the people get into the hands of the richest man in the world who has nothing but contempt for folks working for a livelihood, and a president whose family makes fortune after fortune out of his presidencies?  Why hasn’t that system been changed?

I find myself berating the Democratic party, of which I have been a member for a long time, more than the party now in power.  Because we, who were once the party of the working class, have not lived according to our own principles and ideals.

When I was growing up, in fact as soon as we immigrated to this country and became citizens (Yes, Aussie, I’m here legally), there was no question about who you voted for. You voted for labor and unions. You voted for urban renewal and bills targeting bias and racism. The others were for the status quo, but you fought to change things; you fought the good fight.

Democrats stopped living according to that vision and making the big changes needed. I don’t mean fiddling with it here or there, but making food, housing, education, and medical help basic rights for everyone here. Is that too radical for us?

So you know who started the overhaul, don’t you? Donald Trump. Not quite the messenger we expected, and certainly not in the direction we need. But when we don’t live up to our promises, when we fritter away majorities in Congress and a Democrat in the White House on small measures, God sends us a different messenger. It’s as if She’s telling us: You might have been the better messengers, but you didn’t rise to the occasion, so I sent you someone else.