At the National Prayer Breakfast
For 49 years, presidents, members of Congress and thousands of invited guests have met annually in Washington, D.C., over orange juice and muffins to petition God to rain bipartisan blessings down on the United States and its incumbant-elect. The National Prayer Breakfast, held in the immense ballroom of the Washington Hilton, is a “see and be seen” event for politicos, to say nothing of well-scrubbed religious folk.
Though I was head of the Unitarian Universalist Association for eight years, I had never been to a National Prayer Breakfast, so I was intrigued when a well-placed friend invited me to be his guest. To claim one’s ticket, one must show up the day before the breakfast at a registration desk run by a cache of clean-cropped young men who could have been either Southern Baptist youth ministers or retired Mormon missionaries. Since many of their name tags read “Texas,” I concluded they were most likely Southern Baptists.
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