North Carolina Early Voting

Kathy Kmonicek AP

Voters wait to cast their ballots at the Rutherford County Annex Building on the first day of early voting, Thursday, Oct. 17, 2024, in Rutherfordton, N.C. (AP Photo/Kathy Kmonicek)

Hold the Intention Sacred in Voting

Commentary

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The parking lot at the community college campus where we often vote early was much more crowded than usual when we arrived to vote. There were no handicapped parking spaces available, nor any spaces on the front row closest to the building. I remarked to my husband John that, given that it was around 10:30 a.m. on a Tuesday, the crowd of cars likely belonged to students attending classes.

"Wouldn't it be nice if these cars belonged to voters?" I said.

As we circled the lot looking for a place to park so I wouldn't have to walk far with my cane, I noticed there were several people going into the building. Some of them looked like me with their walkers, canes and assisting companions. My husband left me off at the curb while he parked the car. On my way in, I noticed the people coming out of the building. I began to suspect a larger turnout when I saw that many of them wore "I Voted" stickers.

Once inside the polling place, the sight nearly took my breath away. Five lines of people, each five to six voters deep, stood waiting for their turn at a balloting machine. Behind them, every station was staffed and likewise peopled with voters checking in.

A poll worker saw me leaning on my cane, still wearing the dark glasses protecting my post-cataract-surgery left eye and gestured me to take a seat in front of her. "Patsy" read her brightly colored name badge.

Patsy took my driver's license, checked it against the electronic database of registered voters, then handed it back. Then she flipped her computer touchscreen and had me sign in with a finger. She motioned me to a seat at a balloting machine behind her, which I discovered to my relief had an option to enlarge the screen for easier viewing. I had been anxious about reading the ballot with my diminished eyesight, being only halfway done with cataract surgery, but Dallas County's elections office provided for folks with disabilities – and there were more than a few of us present.

Another poll worker sat beside me in case I needed help with the lengthy ballot offering me choices of government representatives from president down through local judges and county commissioners. The complicated city charter amendments caught me by surprise, but whenever I didn't understand what an amendment was meant to do, I voted against it.

You can never go wrong with a "no" vote when it comes to government changes.

There were two other women with mobility issues waiting behind me when I got up to take my printed paper ballot to the tabulating machine. There a silver-haired man in a jaunty ballcap whose badge said "Charles" greeted me and showed me how to feed the paper into the tabulator. As my ballot disappeared, he handed me an "I Voted" sticker and thanked me for voting.

"Thank you for being here," I replied. "I know how hard it can be to volunteer as a poll worker these days."

His smile dimmed for a moment in agreement, then came back. "It's a great day to be alive, though!" he said.

Then Charles offered me a place to sit while I waited for my husband, who had just gotten to the head of a line, to cast his vote. Ever the observer, I took stock of the crowd while I waited.

What I saw warmed my heart.

A lot of older people with various assistive devices waited patiently. Most of the voters were people of color, an expected mix in our southeast Dallas neighborhood where residents are mostly Black and Hispanic/Latinx.

An abuela with a restless granddaughter in a stroller murmured placating Spanish while she voted. The little girl waved and blew kisses at the bystanders, grinning and giggling when she got a response.

A harried-looking woman in tiger-striped leggings shoved her ballot into the tabulator quickly without speaking to anyone. A young man who looked like a college student grinned as he inserted his ballot. Behind him another poll worker in a T-shirt proclaiming "Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life" paced back and forth directing voters to open voting machines.

A slightly stooped gray-haired man started to hand his ballot to Charles, who showed him how to feed it into the tabulator.

"There you go, young man," said Charles.

"I feel old today," said the voter.

"Oh, but it's a great day to be alive!" Charles replied.

I stood up as my husband approached the tabulator with his paper ballot. Charles likewise stood up to hand John an "I Voted" sticker.

"Thank you, sir," my husband said. "I'm glad to see such a good turnout."

"You should have been here yesterday," said Charles proudly. "We had 749 voters."

Now, 749 voters may not seem like a lot. But that's a lot for our voting district where, in most elections, we can breeze in and out in 15 minutes. Multiplied by the number of states with early voting and by multiple polling places in those states, that 749 becomes thousands, perhaps even millions, of Americans exercising their most precious right to govern themselves.

After such an uplifting experience, I was stunned to come home and discover an email from The Christian Century magazine containing an editorial titled "Voting is Important, but not Sacred." The subtext of the CC editorial board's argument seemed to be an attempt to debunk the religious fervor of evangelicals and Christian nationalists who deem voting to be a take-no-prisoners holy crusade.

While I respect the magazine's right to its perspective, I think it's short-sighted.

The act of voting may not be sacred itself, even though the voting toolkit from the General Board of Church and Society titles it such. No, what's sacred about voting is the intention behind casting a ballot, namely, to create common good. Many United Methodists believe we Christians are called to build "beloved community" of equity, diversity and inclusion, but not through oppression and coercion. Officially, The United Methodist Church believes in and supports free and fair elections for all, even when that goal runs the risk of election results contrary to the principles we hold sacred.

Thankfully, Christian Century's editorial – as well as last week's voting webinar held by Church and Society – ends by describing voting as a crucial act that initiates, not concludes, participatory democracy. Whatever the election totals on Nov. 5, Nov. 6 still will come the next day, and the work of social justice still will be needed, as Bishop Julius C. Trimble counseled during the voting webinar.

Given our voting experience this year, I have more hope that US citizens, polarized though they are, recognize how precious is the right to vote, and that the frustrating, messy, glorious democratic institution which protects our vote is worth sustaining. As of today, we're still a government of, by and for the people, and I pray we stay that way.

Veteran religion journalist Cynthia B. Astle serves as Editor of United Methodist Insight, an online news-and-views journal she founded in 2011 as a media channel for and about marginalized and under-served United Methodists.