You’d think, after all these years, the guy would know better. But nope — Donald Trump, in a desperate attempt to look like a leader, somehow managed to botch one of the most basic photo ops of his career. And it wasn’t just any photo op, mind you. No, this one had him holding a Bible upside down, in front of a church, after police had cleared out peaceful protesters with tear gas and rubber bullets (Smith, 2020).

What the hell was he thinking?

Here’s the thing — Trump had just tear-gassed a bunch of moms, grandfathers, and kids, for nothing more than trying to express their First Amendment rights. Protesters, not looters or anarchists, but regular people who were sick of cops treating Black folks like dirt. And after clearing out the square like some wannabe dictator, Trump marches over to St. John’s Episcopal Church holding a Bible. But not just holding it. Oh no, he holds it like a man who doesn’t know the difference between a Bible and a brick.

The damn thing is upside down.

You can’t make this stuff up. Here’s the self-proclaimed defender of Christianity, holding the holy book like he just got it from a yard sale (Parker & Dawsey, 2020). And when some reporter asks him, “Is that your Bible?” he just mumbles, “It’s a Bible,” like it’s some generic, store-brand paperback.

Let’s break this down. Trump, the man who spent the last four years shamelessly kissing the boots of evangelical Christians, suddenly stands there, fumbling with a Bible like it’s his first time in church. If this were a scene from a movie, they’d cut it because no one would believe it. The guy who claimed to be the defender of religious freedom now shows the world exactly how much he respects religion. Spoiler alert: not at all.

And the worst part? He didn’t even have the decency to try and fake it. No, there was no “prayer for peace” or “thoughts and prayers” line. Just a man standing there, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, using the Bible as a prop in a bad political drama. You could practically hear the cameras snickering behind his back.

Even the church didn’t back him up. Episcopal Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde, who oversees St. John’s, said she was “outraged” that Trump used her church for a political stunt (Budde, 2020). She wasn’t the only one. Faith leaders from across the spectrum lined up to call out the hypocrisy.

Let’s be clear: Trump wasn’t trying to bring people together. This wasn’t a “unity” moment. It was a move so desperate, so transparently political, that it made you wonder if the guy had ever read a book — let alone a Bible.

Of course, Trump’s usual defenders went straight into spin mode, trying to turn the story around. “Oh, the Bible was a symbol!” they said. No. No it wasn’t. The symbol of power was the tear gas, the rubber bullets, and the armed troops. The Bible? That was just the window dressing.

And the response? Well, it didn’t go as planned. Even the military, who’s usually too busy polishing their medals, started speaking out. Former Secretary of Defense James Mattis came out with a blistering condemnation, saying that Trump’s actions showed “a clear threat to the Constitution” (Mattis, 2020). In other words, even the people who knew how to play the game didn’t want to be caught anywhere near it.

But back to the Bible for a second. Because here’s the real kicker: Trump wasn’t just embarrassing himself. He was embarrassing us. He was saying to the world, “Look at me, I’m holding a book that I couldn’t care less about. And I’m doing it after I’ve made a mockery of justice, of democracy, and of the very ideals I claimed to represent.”

If you were trying to write a political obituary for this guy, you could do worse than point to that moment. That upside-down Bible was the last shred of any moral authority he might’ve had, and he dropped it — hard.

The kicker? The rest of the world saw it too. Allies, enemies, heck, even casual observers — they all saw the same thing. And it wasn’t strength. It was weakness. He didn’t hold a Bible, he held a liability.

At this point, you have to wonder what his advisors were thinking. Was anyone in the room that day brave enough to tell him this was a dumb idea? Or did they all just look the other way, hoping the public wouldn’t notice the glaring contradiction between Trump’s “tough guy” image and the empty gesture of holding a Bible upside down?

Maybe Trump thought it would be a moment of “divine” approval, but it wasn’t. It was a perfect encapsulation of what his presidency became — a series of blunders, desperate attempts at strength, and complete disregard for the principles he claimed to uphold.

So here we are. Another classic Trump move, where the real story isn’t the one he thinks he’s telling. No, the story’s about a man who can’t even hold a Bible without making it look like a joke. And if that’s the moral high ground, it’s awfully hard to climb from the bottom.

References:

Budde, M. E. (2020, June 1). Episcopal bishop ‘outraged’ by Trump church visit. NPR. https://www.npr.org/

Mattis, J. (2020, June 3). James Mattis denounces President Trump, describes him as a threat to the Constitution. The Atlantic. https://www.theatlantic.com/

Parker, A., & Dawsey, J. (2020, June 1). Inside Trump’s photo op: How chaos unfolded. The Washington Post. https://www.washingtonpost.com/

Smith, D. (2020, June 1). Trump’s Bible photo op: A display of power gone wrong. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/