Happy Super-Probably Impeachment Day.
While all eyes go to the lawmakers, I want to take a moment to talk about a group of people you may have overlooked as you’ve watched videos or looked at photos from Jan. 6. Among the mob, you may have noticed rioters bowing heads in prayer, carrying life-sized crosses, sporting Jesus t-shirts and toting at least one flag that said “Jesus is my Savior. Trump is my president.”
This is the accoutrement of an army sent by God — or so its members like to think.
But this wasn’t God’s army. This was, instead, a real-time display of Christian nationalism, with the little cousin it never leaves home without, white supremacy.
The media was quick to notice the faith trinkets, though for a large majority of Christians (including hard-shell fundamentalists such as myself), such a blending of patriotism and religion is a perversion of both patriotism and religion.
(Yes, yes, words matter. At my Sunday school, we were told to “put on the whole armor of God” and to lift our “swords,” also known as our Bibles, but at no point did any of us take that literally. We were literalists to the core, but we knew a metaphor when we saw one. Sadly, the same cannot be said for the insurgents.)
Christian nationalism has always been with us, but it has been on the rise during the Trump years, and we would be remiss, when we list the instigators of the attack on democracy, to overlook the Christian leaders who hitched their gold-plated wagons to this particular star. Because of their vast following(ss), they lent an air of legitimacy to a despot, all wrapped up in a communion wafer. They include, among others:
Franklin Graham, Billy’s son, who after the insurgency could only mew, “I don’t think it was the President’s finest moment”
Robert Jeffries, America’s Jerry Falwell Sr. wanna-be
Paula White-Cain, the prosperity preacher who prayed for angels from Africa and South America to swing the November election and went viral for doing so
There’s more, of course. There’s always more, because behind these names are a multitude of fleeced sheep. It might make you wonder how can so many believers in God be so, well, stupid? From a 2018 Pew Research Center study, among the “highly religious” (39% of the American flock), some 12% are so-called “God and Country Believers,” who are, according to Pew:
Socially and politically conservative, most likely to view immigrants as hurting American culture
These usually count themselves among Trump’s base, and this Mexicans-are-taking-our-jobs crowd tend to be unhinged from traditional Sunday worship, but they very much cling to the old rugged cross — or what they think is the cross. These are also families who send their sons and daughters to fight and die in wars, and find it easier than most to elevate political leaders to messiah-level (and sink political leaders with whom they disagree straight to hell). Violent language is a turn-on for them. They see no metaphors.
But take heart. This isn’t the depth and breadth of all Christian evangelicalism. Russell Moore, a Southern Baptist leader, called out the flock in “The Gospel Coalition:”
But enough is enough—and indeed was enough a long time ago. It will take decades to rebuild from the wreckage in this country. But, as Christians, we can start now—just by not being afraid to say what is objectively the truth. Joe Biden has been elected president. Millions of babies are being aborted. The pandemic is real. So is racial injustice—both personal and systemic. So is the sexual abuse of women and children. If Christians are people of truth, we ought to be the first to acknowledge reality.
Plenty of evangelical women who aren’t having any, as well. Pre-insurgency, Christian author Beth Moore encouraged Christians to reconsider their embrace of Trumpism:
It is good that evangelical leaders decry Trump, but one might argue that no Christian nationalism — not just “this” Christian nationalism — is from God. Nationalism walks itself very neatly to racism, sits down, and opens a beer. The same racism that allows us white Christians to un-ironically worship Norwegian Jesus (see below) also moves us to discount the role the church plays in codifying systemic racism. How can we worship a revolutionary, and then take surveys where we insist that black men shouldn’t run from the police, electing non-Christians to public office is bad, and Trump’s behavior has not inflamed white supremacist groups.
Denouncement doesn’t go far enough, writes Anthea Butler, author of the upcoming book, “White Evangelical Racism, the Politics of Morality in America.” She writes:
Yet when participants of the march for Trump tore down and burned Black Lives Matter banners from Asbury United Methodist Church and Metropolitan AME Church, two historically Black houses of worship, on Saturday evening (Dec. 12), evangelicals condemn Christian nationalism — not the racism undergirding the Christian nationalism, not the Christian nationalism undergirding white evangelicalism. These things go together like peanut butter and jelly — a natural fit.
Trump is a symptom, as are the terrorists, their apologists, their pastors, and their elected officials who continue to lie about November’s election. This group can threaten and pound the pulpit all they want. We will dance on their political graves (metaphor), but until we have the hard conversations about Christianity and racism, this will be just one more skirmish in what has been, up to now, an endless war.
Amen!
Unfortunately, using religion as an excuse for behaving badly and manipulating others has been an attractive combination for narcissistic power seekers in the GOP for a long time. It seems they could care less about the well-being of any group (POC, immigrants, refugees, women, non-Christians....) if by doing so it gets in the way of gaining power. And the partnership between some of these so called Christian evangelical leaders with political leaders returns power and relevance to the Christian evangelical leaders. "Pride" is one of the "7 deadly sins" and they are full of it!
Meanwhile, there are people who are Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, and non-religious who are humbly doing good and working toward bringing about a more just world. I wonder how to bring that work into public focus more.