Trump on Scum: A Christian Response
"HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY TO ALL, INCLUDING THE SCUM THAT SPENT THE LAST FOUR YEARS TRYING TO DESTROY OUR COUNTRY THROUGH WARPED RADICAL LEFT MINDS,"
- President Donald J. Trump, Memorial Day Message, all capital letters
,,,when we are slandered, we answer kindly. We have become the scum of the earth, the garbage of the world—right up to this moment.
- St. Paul, First Corinthians, 4:13, NIV
A Presidential Greeting, Etched in Scorn
A Christian Response to Trump's Use of the Word "Scum"
"HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY TO ALL, INCLUDING THE SCUM THAT SPENT THE LAST FOUR YEARS TRYING TO DESTROY OUR COUNTRY THROUGH WARPED RADICAL LEFT MINDS."
As I read this greeting from the President of the United States in his Memorial Day message, I wanted to make sure I knew what he meant by “scum” and by “radical left minds.”
I discovered that, etymologically, scum comes from the Middle Dutch schume or scume, meaning foam or froth—the kind that forms on the surface of boiling liquids or stagnant ponds. It entered English in the 14th century as a way to describe the residue that floats to the top—what is skimmed off and thrown away. Later, it became a handy term of moral dismissal, applied to people considered dirty, worthless, or subhuman.
In other words, scum is what’s left when you boil the pot and don’t like what rises. It’s what you scrape off, dispose of, and forget. It’s not just an insult—it’s a metaphor of exclusion.
And yet, curiously, scum has biblical credentials. In 1 Corinthians 4:13, St. Paul, writing to a community prone to self-congratulation, says: “We have become the scum of the earth, the refuse of all things.” The Greek word he uses is perípsēma—the filth, the scrapings, the garbage. But Paul isn’t wallowing in self-pity. He’s identifying with the dispossessed, the persecuted, the lowly—not as a badge of shame, but as a mark of faith.
So if, in our times, “radical left minds” are those seeking compassion, equity, and truth—and if scum means those marginalized by a culture of cruelty—then perhaps we should not recoil from the word. Perhaps we should reclaim it.
Blessed are the scum. For they have hearts that still ache, ears that still listen, and minds that dare to imagine another way.
I realize that his is not what my President had in mind, To be sure, there is a way of looking at the world in which scum are disposable—stripped of dignity, written off as refuse unworthy of respect—while the glitterati are admired, served, and celebrated. In that worldview, God is easily mistaken for the gleam of power, privilege, and curated perfection: divine presence confused with status and sparkle.
But a Christian vision is entirely different. It sees God not in the dazzle of the elites, but in the dust of the downtrodden. It honors those the world discards and finds holiness not in polish, but in presence—especially among the broken, the mocked, and yes, even the so-called scum of the earth.
In this Christian vision, our calling is not to rise above the so-called scum of the earth, but to identify with them—and even become scum-worthy. For it is precisely in the places the world dismisses, and among the people it devalues, that Christ is found. In the overlooked kindness, the quiet empathy, the inclusive hearts that defy the logic of status and exclusion—there is the presence of Christ, hidden in what the world throws away.
So here we are, two worldviews colliding. For Trump, scum is the enemy—those who threaten the myth of power by caring too much, questioning too loudly, or loving too widely. For St. Paul, scum is the location of grace. It’s where God is. It is what the world discards and where the Spirit begins. One uses the word to shame. The other, to sanctify.
And maybe that’s the real scandal of Christianity—not only that it lifts the poor, but that it identifies God with the poor. Not that it welcomes the outcast, but that it says the outcast is where truth resides. Not that it hates enemies, but that it forgives them. Not that it tolerates the scum of the earth, but that it finds God in them
As I read this greeting from the President of the United States in his Memorial Day message, I wanted to make sure I knew what he meant by “scum” and by “radical left minds.”
I discovered that, etymologically, scum comes from the Middle Dutch schume or scume, meaning foam or froth—the kind that forms on the surface of boiling liquids or stagnant ponds. It entered English in the 14th century as a way to describe the residue that floats to the top—what is skimmed off and thrown away. Later, it became a handy term of moral dismissal, applied to people considered dirty, worthless, or subhuman.
In other words, scum is what’s left when you boil the pot and don’t like what rises. It’s what you scrape off, dispose of, and forget. It’s not just an insult—it’s a metaphor of exclusion.
And yet, curiously, scum has biblical credentials. In 1 Corinthians 4:13, St. Paul, writing to a community prone to self-congratulation, says: “We have become the scum of the earth, the refuse of all things.” The Greek word he uses is perípsēma—the filth, the scrapings, the garbage. But Paul isn’t wallowing in self-pity. He’s identifying with the dispossessed, the persecuted, the lowly—not as a badge of shame, but as a mark of faith.
So if, in our times, “radical left minds” are those seeking compassion, equity, and truth—and if scum means those marginalized by a culture of cruelty—then perhaps we should not recoil from the word. Perhaps we should reclaim it.
Blessed are the scum. For they have hearts that still ache, ears that still listen, and minds that dare to imagine another way.
I realize that his is not what my President had in mind, To be sure, there is a way of looking at the world in which scum are disposable—stripped of dignity, written off as refuse unworthy of respect—while the glitterati are admired, served, and celebrated. In that worldview, God is easily mistaken for the gleam of power, privilege, and curated perfection: divine presence confused with status and sparkle.
But a Christian vision is entirely different. It sees God not in the dazzle of the elites, but in the dust of the downtrodden. It honors those the world discards and finds holiness not in polish, but in presence—especially among the broken, the mocked, and yes, even the so-called scum of the earth.
In this Christian vision, our calling is not to rise above the so-called scum of the earth, but to identify with them—and even become scum-worthy. For it is precisely in the places the world dismisses, and among the people it devalues, that Christ is found. In the overlooked kindness, the quiet empathy, the inclusive hearts that defy the logic of status and exclusion—there is the presence of Christ, hidden in what the world throws away.
So here we are, two worldviews colliding. For Trump, scum is the enemy—those who threaten the myth of power by caring too much, questioning too loudly, or loving too widely. For St. Paul, scum is the location of grace. It’s where God is. It is what the world discards and where the Spirit begins. One uses the word to shame. The other, to sanctify.
And maybe that’s the real scandal of Christianity—not only that it lifts the poor, but that it identifies God with the poor. Not that it welcomes the outcast, but that it says the outcast is where truth resides. Not that it hates enemies, but that it forgives them. Not that it tolerates the scum of the earth, but that it finds God in them