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As Americans say religion is gaining influence in public life, some Capital Region faith leaders are wrestling with how to keep politics from tearing their congregations apart.
A recent Pew Research Center survey found that nearly one in four Americans believe religion is increasing its influence, the highest share in more than 20 years. At the same time, many say religion and politics feel more tangled than ever.
“The mission of our community, in many faith communities, is greater and bigger than one political divide,” said Rabbi Greg Weitzman of Congregation Beth Emeth in Albany. “It’s a place where people want to feel seen and heard, regardless of where they are on that political spectrum.”
Local clergy say the pressure isn’t coming from government, but from inside their own sanctuaries as members ask them either to address current events head-on or to leave politics at the door.
The Rev. Michael‑Aaron Poindexter, senior pastor of Macedonia Baptist Church, leads a predominantly Black congregation he says is acutely affected by what happens beyond the church walls.
“What happens in the world impacts us more at a higher disproportionate rate than what happens in other communities,” Poindexter said. “And so what I can’t do is come into this space, in this pulpit, and not speak about what’s going on in the world.”
Poindexter, who preaches to a multigenerational flock, says his messages are grounded in Scripture, even as he applies them to modern debates.
“You always go back to the Bible,” he said. “You’re not going to argue me about what I preach because I’m preaching the word. I’m giving a 2026 lens based on words that were written in this Bible years and years ago.”
For Father Bob Longobucco, pastor of St. Kateri Tekakwitha Parish in Schenectady, faith requires naming the pain people are carrying.
“You’ve got to speak to it and you’ve got to name what hurts, because a church that doesn’t respond to what hurts is not doing their job,” Longobucco said.
Even carefully crafted sermons can land differently with people who don’t see issues the same way. Weitzman said he tries to turn disagreement into conversation.
“If people disagree with one of my messages, I always welcome them into my office,” he said. “If they want to have a conversation about a stance I’ve taken, which is based in Jewish values, they’re welcome to come and meet with me.”
The leaders say they are spending more time listening and creating space for difficult conversations, while reminding their communities that shared faith runs deeper than party identity.
“There’s no group that I know anywhere that agrees on everything,” Longobucco said. “What we can agree on is that I respect you and, above all, listen to you.”
Weitzman frames his role as helping people live together despite their differences.
“My goal is not to convince somebody they’re wrong in the way they think,” he said. “My goal is to help people understand that our communities are sacred places of gathering, where people from a wide variety of faiths, backgrounds and political beliefs can still come together to coexist.”
For these clergy, the challenge is to preach honestly about the world without losing sight of the reason their congregants sit side by side in the first place.
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