Seldom does one hear one voice ask for mercy for another. Almost never have we heard one voice ask for mercy from a powerful person for millions of powerless people.

The newly installed U.S. president did not listen. I doubt anyone expected that. But to demand an apology from the clergy person who made the request? That was surprising, even from him. I thought he’d simply want her fired.

Mercy is a positive act of beneficence. It can be granted only by one in a position of power. It requires inequality.

Speaking truth to power, as did Episcopalian Bishop Marian Budde, is an exercise in inequality.

She did not seek mercy for herself. She asked on behalf of two specific groups; the LGBTA community and immigrants. And she reminded the president, “We were all once strangers in this land.”

It is a phrase that especially resonates with Jewish Americans. Just this past week, in synagogues around the world, we began once again to retell the story of the Exodus from Egypt.

The Torah reminds us dozens of times to remember that we were once strangers in a strange land. We are enjoined to be kind, thoughtful, and yes merciful, not because it is the right thing to do. No. We do it because we remember. We remember that we once sought mercy from a heartless ruler. That we have walked in the shoes of the downtrodden. That one day we might do so again.

In a speech to the Yale graduating class of 2017, then Yale President Peter Salovey said the following, which is as true today as it was then: “Today, it is not only the immigrants and refugees among us who are strangers in a strange land. Across the United States… we have become strangers to each other. We find it difficult to understand and engage perspectives with which we disagree. We can’t imagine how people in our own country can feel and act as they do. And despite being in constant communication, we feel increasingly disconnected from one another.”

It is that disconnect that allows an American president to act with such disdain for others. To deny their very humanity.

Over the next four years, I believe that we will see the result of that disconnect time and again. The nation will be run by a small group of people who have been merciless in their efforts to grow and retain personal wealth and power. They will not stop now; on the contrary, we know that their increased access to power will only increase their avarice.

These will be dangerous years for Bishop Budde and everyone who seeks mercy and justice. But I was taught that my job as a rabbi is to live by this succinct job description: To comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.

I pray that the bishop continues to afflict the powerful with a plea for justice and mercy. And I pray that I too will be as courageous and fearless as she.