The religion of January 6th demands that we witness against it. We can effectively do that by questioning not the lies but the definitions.
Start with the formula that violently erupted into a storming of the Capitol: White Christian nationalism—allegiance to a particular faith tradition and historical mythology—fused with deeply held, demonstrably false convictions about the coronavirus, global politics, the US government and the 2020 election. Trusted leaders reinforced these convictions knowing they were false, authorizing a worldview largely divorced from reality. The country is only beginning to confront the magnitude of that betrayal.
By affirming the common roots of our Christian faith, we can reach out to those whom trusted leaders … [+]
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How to break the hold of this illusory worldview? Straight up argument exposing the lies hasn’t worked, but if we question key definitions (citizen, Christian) that hold it together it might crack.
The branch of Protestant Christianity to which I belong derives from the same roots and reads the same Scriptures as that of those who in the name of Jesus laid lethal siege to the Capitol.
Yet, when perceived through lies promulgated by trusted leaders, my faith (and that of millions of Americans) appears not as Christianity but as religion’s opposite—godless secularism. Just as the rioters who shouted “this is OUR country” narrowed the definition of citizen to include only the minority of Americans who voted as they did, so too those who rioted in the name of Jesus narrowed the definition of Christian to exclude everyone but themselves.
Many have noted the racist, xenophobic fears that underlie the “only we count” notion of citizen prevalent among the rioters. Combatting their exclusionary definition of Christian is equally important. This is challenging. In a foundationally pluralistic, egalitarian country that wisely bans state-established religion, there are good reasons not to make policy arguments in terms of particularistic faith imperatives. However, at this historical moment, white Protestant Christians like me should speak more explicitly about the relationship between our faith and the societal concerns to which it leads.
In pursuing this we have powerful exemplars among Black faith leaders like North Carolina’s Rev. Dr. William J. Barber II, whose organization Repairers of the Breach declares that the “moral public concerns of our faith traditions are how our society treats the poor, women, LGBTQ people, children, workers, immigrants, communities of color, and the sick—the people whom Jesus calls ‘the least of these.’” Within the Presbyterian Church (USA), the recently inaugurated Matthew 25 movement specifically highlights our Christian obligation to eradicate systemic poverty and dismantle structural racism.
White Christians like me can heed the call of these examples. We can expose the rhetorical sleight of hand that in Christian nationalist speech turns our faith into godlessness. We challenge the relationship, whether unacknowledged or explicit, between a faith grounded in love and the hate-filled ideologies of white supremacy, anti-Semitism, and xenophobia. And, by affirming the common roots of our Christian faith, we can reach out to those whom trusted leaders have failed in the radical hope of imagining a just, humane and shared future.
