US Christian Nationalism, Devout Non-White Christians & Patriotism

American Christian nationalism, one would assume, would embrace all Christians but it has not for the last five hundred years. American Christian nationalism has always been White Christian nationalism. How can not be when for hundreds of years non-whites, particularly Blacks, were not even considered fully human? Citizenship and Christianity of Blacks were always in doubt. 

With Blacks suffering the wrath of the American state until the late 1970s, a hundred years after the Civil War and 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments, it is unsurprising that their relationship with the American state is different from White American's. The benevolence of the American state and reverence for American exceptionalism and militarism were contested ideas in the Black community. And Blacks found it difficult to accept that America has always been a "shining city on the hill" and the American military has always been a force of righteousness and freedom.  

See below how Senator Warnock of Georgia, who is the senior pastor of Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta since 2005, was criticized for his Christian beliefs and the social gospel, that do not conform to Christian nationalism and American exceptionalism. The Ebenezer Baptist Church has a long history of progressivism and the social gospel movement. Here Martin Luther King, Jr. and his father preached for more than 40 years. These are excerpts from What the Attacks on Raphael Warnock’s Faith Reveal about Christian Nationalism by Quardricos Driskell in Religion and Politics:

Ugly symbolism and dangerous rhetoric were on display during the Georgia Senate races as well. The campaign of Republican Senator David Perdue, Ossoff’s opponent, ran an attack ad that enlarged the Jewish candidate’s nose in what Ossoff said was the “oldest, most obvious, least original anti-Semitic trope in history.” Warnock’s opponent, Republican Senator Kelly Loeffler, repeatedly attacked the pastor as radical because of his faith and social justice sermons. The National Republican Senatorial Committee (NRSC) released an attack ad against Warnock featuring excerpts of black theologians and famed preachers: the late Rev. Dr. James Cone, the Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright, and the Rev. Calvin O. Butts, ending with its editorial proclamation: “You can tell a lot about a man by the company he keeps.” What was and is lacking in Republicans’ understanding of Warnock’s preaching is any sense of its historical imperatives and, particularly, any depth of understanding of the Black church and its preaching tradition, the social gospel movement, and Black liberation theology.

For too long, the Republican Party has claimed to be the party of the faithful, namely through its identification with the Religious Right. For decades, they have claimed the mantle of “Moral Majority.” Paul Weyrich, the late political activist and co-founder of the conservative Heritage Foundation, wrote in the 1970s, “The new political philosophy must be defined by us [conservatives] in moral terms, packaged in non-religious language, and propagated throughout the country by our new coalition. When political power is achieved, the moral majority will have the opportunity to re-create this great nation.” Today, these Christians—mainly white evangelicals with a swath of Catholics and other Protestants—make up the backbone of support for Trump.

The GOP does not have a monopoly on religious voters or Christian values, though. They have tied their politics to a corrupted brand of white Christianity—as seen at the Capitol riot and the rally before it. Among the symbols there, perhaps none were so numerous as those of Christianity, including crosses, images of Jesus, and signs with biblical verses. The meld of the GOP and Trump and Christian nationalism seemed complete. When the mob violently stormed into the Senate chamber, one insurrectionist could be seen carrying the “Christian flag.” Outside, some protesters unfurled a massive banner. It read: “Jesus 2020.”... 

These Trump supporters seem to say that it is not right to malign their Christianity or beliefs in this way, just as it was not right to ask any questions of Supreme Court Justice Amy Coney Barrett’s conservative Catholic faith during her confirmation hearings. Yet, somehow it was fair game to attack Warnock for his faith, beliefs, and sermons without any theological context or understanding. How fascinating it is to see whose beliefs and interpretations are publicly dissected and criticized.

During Warnock’s campaign, a video of him preaching that “nobody can serve God and the military” turned into a rallying cry for some Republicans, who accused him of being anti-military. Loeffler, his opponent, said that Warnock “insulted our active service military members. He insulted our veterans. He insulted their families.” Meanwhile, other Republicans, including Senator Tom Cotton, demanded that Warnock drop out of the race. And yet, Scripture says “no man can serve two masters”—the biblical verse that Warnock was invoking to mean that a devotion to God must come first. This lack of understanding about the Black preaching tradition is willful and not a product of simple unawareness. It is necessary to protect a white evangelical worldview.

Source:  What the Attacks on Raphael Warnock’s Faith Reveal about Christian Nationalism  

The Black tradition of the social gospel equipped civil rights leaders with much of their movement’s intellectual underpinning. Essentially, to attack Warnock as “radical” is to attack, square-on, the legacy of King. Like Warnock, he believed that racism, sexism, militarism, poverty, and classism were deeply ingrained iniquities that long have threatened America’s democratic ideals. Whenever religious figures speak in the prophetic tradition that critiques American imperialism and exceptionalism, they are vilified as anti-American. These tropes are compounded and used more frequently against those situated in the Black church and African American preaching tradition. In 1967, King’s “Beyond Vietnam” address at Riverside Church crucially condemned America for its lack of empathy and financial resources for the poor and racially oppressed while calling for the end of America’s proliferation of the military-industrial complex. As pastor of Atlanta’s Ebenezer Baptist—where King, his father, and maternal grandfather were pastors—Warnock’s preaching proclaims the belief that Christianity is spiritual and political and grounded in justice for the oppressed. The attacks against Warnock are not only jabs at the Black prophetic preaching tradition but also digs at Black American Christian communities on the whole, who through the practiced preaching of biblical texts, like that of the Exodus story, insistently call America to be its better self.

Religious beliefs emerge from a much broader and more complex political-ideological context than our holy books, alone, can provide. For instance, the idea of climate crisis denial is often inextricably linked to belief in unfettered capitalism, justified by a kind of “prosperity theology,” the belief that material gain is a reward from God for personal virtue. No one should be surprised at the intersection of faith and public policy. Many presidents and politicians have used the symbols of Christianity to appeal to the American people. The famed sociologist Robert Bellah coined the term “civil religion,” the belief that semi-religious national symbols—often derived from the Abrahamic faiths—are used to unite the country during difficult times.

What happens to our civil religion now? Where there is hope, it will come from boundary-breaking leaders like Ossoff and Warnock, who herald a new day in Congress. These newly elected senators support issues like voting rights, inclusiveness, and access to healthcare, as well as taking care of people regardless of their background—a nod to the biblical value of opening hands to those in need.

The Republican Party’s current fusion with Christian nationalism is dangerous. The idea that America was founded as a Christian, mostly white nation—and that an authentic American must be Christian—erodes the very sanctity of any unifying “civil religion.” This reality was egregiously illustrated on January 6 by Trump’s incitement of violence from his Christian supporters on the National Mall. It was ignobly seen in his use of the Bible and a church as pretexts to forcibly remove peaceful protesters from Lafayette Square last June. Warnock’s sermons, like King’s sermonic critiques of America, are not distortions of the Bible like these events. Rather, they are prophetic commentaries on the power structure that supports the idea of Christian nationalism. And they are needed more than ever, from the pulpits of Georgia to the congressional chambers of Washington.

Jonathan Walton, dean of the Wake Forest University School of Divinity, explains in his Washington Post article that criticism of Warnock, and earlier of Martin Luther King, Jr. and President Obama's minister Reverend Jeremiah Wright of Chicago, is based on "ignorance about the progressive Black church tradition." Their sermons may appear unpatriotic but in fact, they are deeply patriotic.

Preachers such as Warnock may strike the comfortable as offensive, but their critiques aren’t unpatriotic screeds. Rather, they proclaim a deep love for, and thus a deep disappointment in, a country that too often fails to affirm the self-evident truth in our nation’s creed, that all people are created equal and endowed by God “with certain unalienable Rights.”

The mischaracterization isn’t new. Wright, President Barack Obama’s former pastor, was pilloried during the 2008 presidential election for his 2003 sermon, “Confusing God and government” despite decades as a respected clergyman and having served honorably in the Marine Corps. Wright was accused of preaching “anti-white and anti-American rhetoric” for saying “God damn America” in a sermon that addressed a list of this nation’s sins, including Native American genocide, slavery and unjust wars. Go back a bit further in history and Martin Luther King Jr. — himself once a pastor of Atlanta’s Ebenezer Baptist Church — was accused of being “the most notorious liar in the country” by FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover.

The attacks misconstrue African American progressive and prophetic religious protest. Informed by the evangelical strand of the social gospel, this tradition places an overwhelming moral emphasis on society’s most vulnerable and oppressed. It demands that Christians bear witness and ameliorate the suffering of others, as set forth in the parable in Matthew 25 where Jesus likens our treatment of God with how we treat those without food and shelter, or those who are sick and imprisoned: “Truly I tell you,” Jesus says of those who enter God’s kingdom, “whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” Indeed, in his December debate with Loeffler, Warnock said: “I’m a Matthew 25 Christian.”

Bearing witness in this way involves uncomfortable truth-telling directed toward those in power. In 2008 at the National Press Club, Wright explained that his aim was to hold his government accountable, not to tear it down: “God doesn’t bless everything. God condemns some things … God damns some practices and there’s no excuse for the things that the government, not the American people, have done. That doesn't make me not like America or unpatriotic.” Similarly, in his 1967 address, “Beyond Vietnam,” King called the U.S. government “the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today.” He didn’t mean America could do no right. But it is necessary to acknowledge where America is wrong toward ultimately transforming “the jangling discords of our world into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.”

Such a spiritual orientation demands moral courage and candor from clergy. Some call it speaking truth to power and others call it parrhesia — candid, fearless speech that challenges the status quo. Historians and literary scholars alike refer to this rhetorical tradition in America as a jeremiad, based on the laments of the biblical Hebrew prophet Jeremiah against unjust practices in ancient Israel, for it’s the Hebrew prophets who provide the moral vocabulary and vivid imagery for preachers such as Warnock who are a part of this tradition.

The Bible is replete with the scathing indictments of those who wept over oppression. Recall Jeremiah: “Woe to him who builds his palace by unrighteousness, his upper rooms by injustice, making his own people work for nothing, not paying them for their labor” (Jeremiah 22:13); and Amos, decrying those who “trample on the heads of the poor as on the dust of the ground and deny justice to the oppressed” (Amos 2:7). The biblical prophets enunciated their divine call to be voices of the voiceless and defenders of the defenseless. They did not try to soothe or assuage listeners with euphemistic phrases. Their rhetoric was often blunt, unyielding and contentious.

This is the beauty and burden of this tradition. Those informed by it — including abolitionists David Walker and Sojourner Truth, and contemporary voices such as the Rev. Otis Moss III of Chicago and the Rev. Leslie D. Callahan of Philadelphia — hold that clergy cannot convey faithfully the spirit of God’s concern for the most vulnerable without being honest about the ways our society, including public policy, is complicit in their suffering. To answer God’s call is not merely to comfort the afflicted. It is also to afflict the comfortable. To not do so would be derelict of Christian duty for those who embrace this progressive and prophetic spiritual stance.

That some may find this form of Christian witness troubling makes sense, considering that many preachers in America specialize in positive affirmations and promises of personal and national prosperity. It can be easier to find comfort in the conciliatory tones and feel-good phrases that can be found in their churches on Sunday mornings. Some see those who appease and affirm the cultural markers of power as more hopeful than clergy who channel the seeming doom and gloom of the jeremiad. But in the prophetic tradition, hope comes from our ability to confront the worst of ourselves as a nation, progressing toward our better selves, not from sentimentality or naive optimism.

When Warnock inveighs against politicians who “pick the pockets of the poor” to “line the pockets of the ultrarich,” that doesn’t make him anti-capitalist. He’s making the charge that certain policies and policymakers willfully ignore the concerns of the most defenseless among us and insisting that our nation can do better. Saying “nobody can serve God and the military” at the same time isn’t a shot at the faith of our troops. It’s a reminder to the faithful of the teaching in Zechariah 4:6 that true victory, according to God, comes “Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit” — that ultimate hope is grounded in love and justice, not weapons of warfare.

These appeals to love and justice have animated progressive Christians to fight to protect rights and expand opportunities for the socially marginalized. This has been true during every epoch of this nation: Abolishing slavery, women securing the vote, defending labor rights and dismantling segregation are just a few examples. In this tradition, clergy must call out the folly of power, industrial efficiency or wealth predicated on the unjust treatment of any segment of society. Whether the ill is human trafficking or the warehousing of the vulnerable by lucrative privatized prisons, “dishonest money dwindles away” (Proverbs 13:11).

It shouldn’t surprise that Black churches, born as institutional responses to Black oppression, have produced some of this nation’s most powerful voices, who have helped emancipate American democracy. At an 1852 Independence Day commemoration, Frederick Douglass addressed the gathering and asked: “What to the slave is the Fourth of July?” He answered his own question by saying that to the enslaved, “your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty, an unholy license; your national greatness, swelling vanity.” That Douglass gave speeches throughout the United States and Europe castigating what he called slaveholding Christianity made him a target for White indignation and claims of anti-Americanism. Yet today he is universally lauded as a patriot.

It may be convenient for Warnock’s adversaries to attack him for lacking an uncritical embrace of American exceptionalism and unqualified veneration of her customs. It may be useful to try to tarnish a pretty clear political asset in the South: being a minister. But when Warnock’s opponents claim he’s un-American, they’re not just presenting an uninformed view of his preaching, they’re negating the true gift of Warnock’s tradition: loving America enough to be honest about its flaws while calling for America to aspire to its highest, most noble ideals.

White evangelicals' jeremiad on DC tours

Most religions exhort their followers to leave their evil/non-religious ways to move to a better future both on earth and hereafter. The religious narrative links the current woes to not accepting and adhering to religious edicts and cautions that if the people did not mend their ways, they will be replaced and/or destroyed. The unpleasant and unsatisfactory present is set between a cherished past and a glorious future. There is a call to return to the right path to avoid catastrophe. There are lamentations remembering the paradise lost in contrast to the dark present, and sorrow, despair, and grief are the main themes. Prophet Jeremiah and the Book of Lamentations are possibly the best expressions of this reoccurring religious theme.

Harvard researcher, Lauren Kerby, has written a book on how White evangelicals' tours to Washington DC help revive, support, and confirm the "Christian-origins" of the United States. Unsurprisingly, these tours strengthen religious nationalism. In an interview with the Harvard Gazette, she summarizes her book,  “Saving History: How White Evangelicals Tour the Nation’s Capital and Redeem a Christian America.”

Kerby points out that these tours, or more specifically tour guides, present white evangelicals as both insiders as well as outsiders:

While I was in D.C., I noticed these two distinct — and contradictory — stories that guides and tourists told about Christianity in the U.S. In what I call the insider narrative, they claim that America is a Christian nation and that they, as Christians, are the rightful leaders of the nation. They argue that American law, for instance, is based in biblical law, and that the founders intended that Christianity would occupy a privileged position in government. 

But they also tell stories about how the nation has abandoned its covenant with the Christian God, causing the United States to experience decline in morality and military power. This is what I call the outsider narrative: a story in which Christians are persecuted and victimized by a secular establishment that wants to erase the nation’s Christian heritage and keep conservative Christians and their values out of government.

Beyond the context of D.C., these two narratives are patterns for how white evangelicals talk about their relationship to the United States. Together, they form a jeremiad, the prophetic call for repentance and return to a past righteous state. And it’s worth noting that one of the most famous slogans of the 21st century follows this exact pattern: Make America Great Again.

Kerby also talks about how white evangelicals imagine themselves playing four roles in the American story depending on what benefits them. Two of these roles (founder and savior) focus on their position as an insider, while the other two (exile and victim) portray them as outsiders and are used to heighten their fears:

An essential part of political strategy is how you position yourself in the story you’re telling. Are you the scrappy underdog? Are you the avatar for tradition? Are you a sympathetic victim? Depending on the circumstances, you’ll probably benefit more from one position than another.

These four roles I identify — founder, exile, victim, and savior — are the different positions white evangelicals take in their political activities. They offer a lot of range, and if one isn’t working, it’s easy to switch to another role. For instance, as founders they can appeal to the authority of George Washington and other Christian leaders in early America to justify things like posting “In God We Trust” in schools. But if, say, something unflattering comes to light about a white evangelical leader, the victim role lets him dismiss it as an attack from anti-Christian forces. It’s a ready-made defense. 

Kerby also explains that her book is about white evangelicals and not all evangelicals as non-white evangelicals do not relate to the American history the same way, and the DC tours, she has written about, did not have many non-white evangelicals in them:

By now, it’s old news that 81 percent of white evangelicals voted for Donald Trump. Non-white evangelicals, however, voted against him at a similar rate. Lumping all evangelicals together, as many outlets still do, erases non-white evangelicals. Even when theology is shared across these groups, the political behaviors I’m interested in are distinct. So it’s important to be specific about which subset of evangelicals I’m talking about, and even then, it’s worth noting that white evangelicals are themselves an internally diverse group. There’s enough commonality that we can make generalizations, but there will always be exceptions.  

The other reason I emphasize this group’s whiteness is because I’m talking about their historical relationship to the United States, and race is inextricable from that. White supremacy in the United States means that white evangelicals have enjoyed privileges and safety not granted to non-white communities, evangelical or otherwise. And one of the most distinctive features of Christian heritage tours is the way they highlight white Christians in American history and exclude everyone else. I want to draw attention to that with my word choice, because it shows the entanglement of Christian nationalism with white supremacy. When tourists say “Christian America,” they mean white evangelical America. It’s much narrower than it sounds.

Religious Equality in America and White Christian Privilege

Khyati Joshi in her new book, “White Christian Privilege: The Illusion of Religious Equality in America,” documents how in diverse ways whiteness and Christianity is favored in the US. She argues that Americans believe that there is religious equality in the US because of the First Amendment. They think that the constitution and courts have been successful in making the US a land of religious freedom. Dr. Joshi contends that this belief is not true and links whiteness privileges to Christian privileges. In an article in Religious News Service by Simran Jeet Singh, Dr. Joshi explains using three key concepts: Christian privilege, Christian normativity, and Christian hegemony. Christian privilege is associated with the everyday advantages that Christians have in the United States. Christian normativity "refers to how Christian ideas, beliefs, and practices have become so entrenched in American society that they have become the national standard." Christian hegemony is linked with the state or government. It demonstrates the myriad ways in which the American state endorses Christianity. 

In Khyati Joshi’s new book, “White Christian Privilege,” Joshi brings religion into the conversation about privilege, arguing that our perception of whiteness suffers from an “optical illusion”: that religion is one place where there is equality in America.

Because it is enshrined in the First Amendment of the Constitution, we presume that religious equality is manifest in our society as well. Yet any analysis that neglects white Christianity’s role in creating and upholding whiteness, Joshi argues, fails to capture the full picture. 

Source: Religious News Service

Joshi upends our usual approach to these questions by focusing not on marginalized communities’ experiences, but the other side of the equation: how the dominant group has created, sustained and framed its distinct advantages. In helping us to see “the rules of society that have been constructed to benefit Christians,” Joshi connects the dots of just how this privilege functions.

The relationship between whiteness and Christianity becomes clearer as Joshi follows multiple threads through American history that inextricably intertwined one’s faith and the color of one’s skin. In the 1790s, the U.S. Congress passed a naturalization act that declared one must be a free white man of good moral character to become a citizen. Explicit about race and gender (white, man) but implicit about religion (good moral character), the legislation deftly linked whiteness and morality, itself an indicator of being a Christian in good standing.

Nearly a century later, when African Americans were granted citizenship through the 14th Amendment (1868) and the Naturalization Act of 1870, it seemed on its face a sign of racial progress. But non-Christian communities — East Asians, South Asians and Native Americans — were still denied citizenship, ensuring that who counted as an American had as much to do with religion as it did with race.

Joshi organizes the rules of Christian society using three key concepts. The first is Christian privilege, which pertains to everyday advantages that folks who identify as Christian or grew up as Christian have in the United States. She gives an example from her childhood in the American South in which a Hindu American named Suha is barred from starting on his high school soccer team because he refused to recite the Lord’s Prayer with his coach and teammates prior to their matches.

Suha’s story transported me back to my high school soccer days in Texas. My team, too, would recite the Lord’s Prayer before each game. I would kneel alongside my teammates and bow my head out of respect – it never occurred to me until much later that I could have requested we say a Sikh prayer as well. Christian prayer was the default, and that this seemed normal to all of us.

Joshi’s second concept, Christian normativity, is related: It refers to how Christian ideas, beliefs and practices have become so entrenched in American society that they have become the national standard. Christian — and particularly Protestant — ways of doing things come to be so normal that non-Christian approaches are perceived as deviant, even threatening. It doesn’t take much of a leap from there to understand why maintaining Christian normativity is at odds with achieving religious pluralism and religious equality.

The third bucket is Christian hegemony. Here the state is the power that endorses Christianity, inserting the words “under God” into the Pledge of Allegiance and the inscription of “In God We Trust” on our currency. These and other examples, Joshi argues convincingly, point to how deeply Christianity has been established as our official religion.

The first half of the book, which recounts how these constructs have worked their way through American history, is fascinating and illuminating: fascinating because it helps us see the subtle and overt ways in which religion has partnered with race to produce American racism; powerful because Joshi sheds light on an aspect of white supremacy that is so often left under the hood.

In the latter chapters, rather than historicizing and teaching, she shifts slowly into practical matters, which comes as little surprise to those who know her social justice training. It’s also refreshing in an academic text, a genre that more often than not wallows in problematizing and stops short of solutions.

An entire chapter, “Making Meaning and Making Change,” offers helpful advice on how to move forward, as well as a vision for what it would take to establish religious equality and religious pluralism in America.

Two ideas of hers stuck out to me in particular, both of which I am yearning to see realized. One is changing our assumptions. Once we can see clearly past the optical illusion of Christian privilege, we will become conscious of how damaging our assumptions of Christian normativity can be for religious minorities. Seeing its harmful impact can and should move us to challenge and change our assumptions of what is normal and acceptable.

Second is Joshi’s suggestion of changing our paradigms. Living within a structure built on white supremacist and Christo-centric norms makes it difficult for those who are not white and not Christian to establish equal footing. Bending the structure, opening the door for other faiths to exercise privilege of their own, won’t work, as we will ultimately end up with the same results. A meaningful interrogation calls on us to replace it with a new paradigm, one that does not privilege any groups over any others.

These interventions are as powerful as they are compelling: It is clear that without these steps, we have no path to realizing religious equality and pluralism.

4th of July and American Religious Nationalism

Is the US a Christian nation? Does embracing Christian nationalism part of being a Christian in America? Is the 4th of July a Holy Day?

Angela Denker is a Lutheran pastor in her article "Christian nationalism, the border and Fourth of July church in Dallas" critiques the close link of American nationalism and Christianity. She visits a megachurch on the 4th of July and informs how the 4th of July has become a religious holiday as are many other national holidays in America. How America is worshiped almost as an idol in many churches: 

When I got there for Saturday night worship, I found out that Prestonwood had a big Fourth of July celebration planned for Independence Day. Pastor Jack Graham promised at the beginning of Saturday worship that they’d be “celebrating our freedoms as a country ... and singing patriotic songs,” as well as offering a pastor dunk tank, games and refreshments in the Dallas summer heat.

When I walked in, I noticed that the arena-style worship space that seats 7,000 had been covered with red, white and blue American flag bunting. Flags festooned the stage, and most of the screen designs and backgrounds were red, white, and blue.

As Graham concluded his welcome for the evening service, he said, “We’re going to start with the Pledge of Allegiance, the national anthem and honoring our service members.”

I had not said the Pledge of Allegiance since elementary school, and I could not help but think of the Ten Commandments — ostensibly as influential here as the pledge. The First Commandment, as found in the Book of Exodus, warns against worshipping and pledging allegiance to a flag and not to God, but no one around me seemed to mind, so, feeling a compulsion to conform, I put my hand on my heart and mouthed the words.

We then sang “The Star-Spangled Banner” and sat as the songs for each branch of the armed forces played, and veterans and active-duty soldiers were invited to stand when their branch was called, and we applauded.

The idea of American exceptionalism having a biblical justification is not new, but Prestonwood made it fresh. The church had bright and compelling red, white and blue graphics with retro black-and-white photography, a guest preacher who specializes in travel to the Middle East, and even a special song. The video montage and song came next, followed by the guest speaker. 

Source: Family Research Council

Pastor Denker contrasts this deep entanglement of Christianity and the American state with another view where love of Christ and love for America are at war. She writes about her conversation with Dean Inserra, a prominent conservative evangelical pastor. He is a Liberty University graduate and the founder of City Church in Tallahassee, Florida. He is also an advisory member of the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission of the Southern Baptist Convention.

Inserra told me about a term from Southern Baptist theology that describes the current moment in American politics and religion. “In this linking of nationalism and Christianity, we are forgetting about the message of Jesus. ... When we do that, we have a gospel distortion.”

A gospel distortion is the idea that another ideal is impeding the truth of the gospel. Inserra said the gospel distortion in the SBC during and before Trump’s presidency has its roots in Christian nationalism.

“We have to be Christian first. If you are American first, Jesus will be at odds with you,” he said. “Patriotism is not a fruit of the Spirit. It’s idolatry on the Fourth of July.”

Inserra pointed to national holidays that receive as much attention in the SBC as Christmas and Easter. “I say there are different high holy days in the Southern Baptist Church. Some churches have Pentecost and Epiphany. We have the Fourth of July, the Sunday closest to Veterans Day, the Sunday closest to Sept. 11. You go to a Southern Baptist Church on the Fourth of July, you’d think you were at a baseball game, eating a hot dog.”

Ira Stoll, a conservative editor and columnist, argued in his essay, The Theology of the Fourth of July, in Time magazine, that 4th of July is a religious holiday and it was the liberal icon President Kennedy who told us that. Ira quotes three different speeches, including his inaugural address, to prove his point. 

For instance, on July 4, 1946, Kennedy was invited to speak at the City of Boston’s Independence Day celebrations. 

Kennedy began by talking not about taxes, or about the British, or about the consent of the governed, but about religion. “The informing spirit of the American character has always been a deep religious sense. Throughout the years, down to the present, a devotion to fundamental religious principles has characterized American though and action,” he said

Ira contends that even if we ignore Kennedy, there is enough evidence from the founding documents and the founding fathers of America about the nature of the state that was imagined in the early years:

Whatever Kennedy’s motives were as a politician for emphasizing this point, on the historical substance he had it absolutely correct. The Declaration of Independence issued from Philadelphia on July 4, 1776, included four separate references to God. In addition to the “endowed by their Creator” line mentioned by JFK in his July 4 speech, there is an opening salute to “the laws of nature’s God,” an appeal to “the Supreme Judge of the World,” and a closing expression of “firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence.”

A signer of the declaration, Samuel Adams, writing to a friend on July 9, wished the declaration had been issued earlier: “If it had been done nine months ago we might have been justified in the sight of God.”

George Washington, announcing the Declaration of Independence to the troops in a General Order dated July 9, wrote, “The General hopes and trusts, that every officer and man, will endeavour to live, and act, as becomes a Christian Soldier defending the dearest Rights and Liberties of his country….knowing that now the peace and safety of his Country depends (under God) solely on the success of our arms.”

Ira ends his essay by saying that Americans can believe whatever they like but "the idea on which our nation was founded" was clearly religious.

Is there a separation of church and state in Islam?

Millions of people, both Muslims and non-Muslims, even scores of academics, believe that in Islam, there is no separation of church and state. They point out to Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) being a prophet as well as the head of the state. The period of the first four righteous caliphs, the Rashidun (632-661), is also presented as evidence.  The presence of close links between Muslim kings and ulema (scholars of Islam) and the implementation of Sharia by Muslim sovereigns strengthens the case and finally, views of noted Islamists and examples of governments of Iran and Saudi Arabia are used to close the argument.

Several assumptions are made in these arguments that have no basis in history. These assumptions are based on applying a normative framework based on European experience on Islam. Understanding Islamic religion and history using European and Christian experience as the model will, unsurprisingly, lead to distorted and/or sub-optimal results. Following is an example of Muslims and Islam being considered copies of Christians and Christianity and Christian history of Europe being considered a model for Muslims to adopt:

Consider the most famous waves of Christian violence, in the 16th and 17th centuries. Wars of religion devastated Europe, killing huge percentages of national populations. States disintegrated and acts of terror were commonplace. The main impetus for these wars was the question of which Christian sect - Protestantism or Catholicism - would rule each state. Clergy had great amounts of political power, dispensing law and owning huge tracts of land. Nationalism was, as yet, weak. The question of which religion would dominate in which area was also the question of who would rule. 

Eventually Europe’s religious wars calmed down, and a solution was reached. In the Peace of Westphalia, it was agreed that governments - not clergy - would get to decide which religion would prevail in their territories...

Nowadays, the Middle East is embroiled in a set of conflicts that look a bit reminiscent of the European Wars of Religion. A few powerful, cohesive states - Iran, Saudi Arabia, and Turkey - are fueling proxy wars in anarchic areas like Iraq, Syria, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Somalia, Libya, and Yemen...Just as the European Wars of Religion featured Christians mostly killing Christians, the Islamic Wars of Religion feature mostly Muslims killing other Muslims...The obvious solution, it would seem, is for Islam to come to the same collective realization that Christianity came to after 1648 - that church and state make for a volatile mix, and should be separated. (Source: Noah Smith: Islam Needs To Separate Church and State)

The antagonistic relationship that Christianity had with the state for its initial three hundred years has no parallel in Islam, whose relationship with the state was without serious disagreements. Furthermore, and more importantly, there has never been a church in the form of the Catholic Church in Islamic history. One can search far and wide and will not find it. There has never been a pope, with his bishops, in Islamic history that could speak for God. In medieval Europe, there was one Pope (except for a few decades) and many rulers, making the Pope's opinion and approval important. In almost all Muslim realms, in contrast, there was one king and scores of Muslim scholars to choose from. There were many kings who may have been excommunicated by Muslim clerics but since there was no central religious authority so there were few repercussions for the king (excommunicating clerics, however, suffered imprisonment, exile, and even execution for their transgression). Kings and emperors always had many more clerics to endorse them than those who reject them.    

Graham E. Fuller, in his book A World Without Islam (2012) brilliantly unpacks the differences between sway and power of the Catholic Church and the lack of anything similar in the Islamic history (as given in Separation of “church and state” in Islamic history):

Islam actually had no parallel to the intimate links between church and state in the West, where the church itself wielded great political and economic power.  While Islamists today — those speaking for forms of political Islam — constantly emphasize the indissoluble unity of religion and state in Islam (din wa dawla), in fact, this perception is largely a modern ideological construct: state power in Islam was virtually always distinct from the clerics.  Religious officials in Islamic states never appointed leadership or controlled the state.  (Clerical domination of the state in today’s Iran is a glaring exception, a modern Shi‘ite innovation.)  Even in Saudi Arabia the monarchy in most contexts is far more powerful than are clerical institutions.

To be sure, the legitimacy of Muslim rulers historically depended upon their implementation of Shari‘a law, at least in theory, but a great deal of the time rulers did not seriously implement its spirit, and they rarely could be overthrown for such religious lapses.  In fact, some medieval Muslim clerics inadvertently dispensed virtual carte blanche authority to misrule by secular powers by declaring that anarchy (fitna) was worse even than oppressive rule (dhulm).  Indeed, no sultan or Muslim ruler in Islamic history ever kneeled to ask forgiveness before a grand mufti in the way that Henry IV was forced to do before the pope in 1077 in Canossa for challenging papal authority on some key secular matters. Henry VIII of England had to break with Rome entirely simply to secure the divorce he sought from his wife.  Thus, intimate linkage between religious and state power marked most of Christian history in a way that has had no parallel in Islam.  (122-123)

And this lack of a Church, with a capital C, in Islam is not a historical development. It is what flows from the Quran and the Sunnah (of the Prophet), two basic sources of Islam. Nowhere in the Quran is there mention of the establishment of a Church. Similarly, the Prophet, in his life, did not establish a Church. Islam propagates a direct relationship between an individual and her God, enjoins Muslims to study the Quran and seek guidance from it. Clearly, this set-up does not favor the establishment of a powerful church and a priesthood that can rival kings. 

Historically, after the Prophet, the religious authority of the leader was withdrawn. The Rashidun, whose period is considered to be a model, to be emulated by all future leaders, by the Sunnis, did not have religious authority. They did introduce some new things or promoted some actions but their decisions regarding religion were always contested and remain contested today. They did not have the religious authority of a prophet, not even a pope. There were many companions of the Prophet who were considered equally or more well-versed in Islamic precepts and edicts than the four caliphs. It is nor without reason that the four righteous caliphs never claimed to be in communication with God or receiving any direct instructions (like the Prophet did). The Prophet also clearly told in his lifetime that after him, there would no revelation. The door of revelation, the direct communication with God, was permanently closed for all times to come after him. There is also no claim for a superior esoteric knowledge that the leader will have had over and above others. None of the caliphs claimed it. Although Shiites do believe Ali, the last of the Rashidun, had superior esoteric knowledge of divine rules, he ruled for only four years and what to say of his religious authority, his temporal authority was contested like none of the other three previous caliphs. During his whole tenure, he fought to end a rebellion and he was martyred before the rebellion ended.

If Rashidun could not (or did not) claim religious authority, the caliphs that came afterward had no choice but to leave religious authority in the hands of clerics. The caliphs after Rashidun were not very different from Christian or Hindu kings. They had attained power not because of their close association with Islam or the Prophet, but due to their superior military might and political acumen. They knew it and most of the Muslims under than knew it so there were not many attempts to enforce something different. Of course, there were few dynasties that did claim divine right to rule, such as the Fatimids, but their religious authority was never completely accepted in their own realm, what to say in the whole Muslim world.

The relationship between Muslim kings and emperors on one hand and the chief judge (Qazi ul-quzat) and chief law interpreter (Shiekh ul-Islam) -- two powerful positions generally reserved for clerics -- was mostly similar to the relationship between the king and the (grand) vizir. Vizirs had authority but they served at the pleasure of the king. The king could appoint any of the scholars of Islam to the above-mentioned posts and usually, the selection was based on scholar's acceptance of the sovereign's authority. 

The king had to publically follow Islam and enforce Sharia. But here again, kings had options. They could suspend or ignore rules they did not like. They could also publicly flaunt their non-acceptance of some parts of Sharia and get away with it. Most of the Muslim kings murdered their rivals (including their brothers, nephews, etc.) and fought wars against other Muslim kings, leading to the deaths of thousands of Muslims. Many of them drank alcohol and had harams full of women. 

Unsurprisingly, there is also an Islamic tradition of God-fearing, learned, and illustrious clerics avoiding and refusing any relationship with the rulers. All founders of the five major schools of thought of Islam (Imam Abu Hanifa, Imam Shafa'i, Imam Malik, Imam Hanbal, and Shiite Imam Jaafar) had an antagonistic relationship with their state authorities. A few of them, such Imam Abu Hanifa, were offered the posts of chief faqih (interpreter of law) and/or chief judge but they refused. There are also some hadiths (sayings of the Prophet) that discourage people from accepting powerful appointments or having a close relationship with rulers:

Whoever goes to the gates of the ruler will endure trail/temptation. A person does not move closer to the ruler except that he moves further away from Allah. (Source: Musnad Ahmad 8619)

He who has been appointed a judge among the people has been killed without a knife. (Source: Sunan Abu Dawud 3571)

The rule of ulema or theocracy is a concept alien to Islam. Medieval Islamic texts, many written by clerics themselves, almost never present clerics as an alternative to a bad or unislamic ruler. The concept of Walayet-e-Faqih or guardian jurist (developed by Imam Khomeini and later enshrined in the Iranian Constitution) is a new concept even in the long Shiite tradition. Even now, many of the Shiite clerics both inside and outside Iran reject this concept.  

The above discussion also invalidates the last argument. The Islamists and the governments of Iran and Saudi Arabia might claim that there is no separation of church and state in Islam but it is clearly not the case. Therefore, they can keep justifying their desires or their actions by pointing to something imaginary but their proclamations do not make it real. Some rudimentary knowledge of the Quran, the Sunnah, and Islamic history settles the question that the church and state are separate in Islam.

  

America was not founded as a “Christian nation.” Fight for religious freedom

Paul Rosenburg in Salon (see the article Celebrate religious freedom — the way the Founding Fathers originally intended) explains how the religious right has hijacked the idea of religious freedom to impose Christian doctrine on the unsuspecting Americans. 

Before fake news there was fake history, and one of the most significant examples has long been the religious right’s idea that America was founded as a “Christian nation.” It’s a popular misconception sometimes used to promote a profoundly anti-democratic agenda, the "Handmaid’s Tale"-style belief that Christians have a biblical mandate to control all earthly institutions – including government – until the second coming of Jesus. 

We arrive once again at Religious Freedom Day on Jan. 16, when the Christian right will claim that its “freedom” to oppress others is under horrendous assault. For the third year in a row, they’ll be countered by a growing movement of modern-day Jeffersonians seeking to reclaim the real meaning of that day, and the real history that it celebrates — the hard-won freedom of all to practice whatever form of religious belief, or non-belief, their consciences guide them to. 

“When Christian Right leaders talk about religious liberty, they often really mean theocratic supremacism of their own religious beliefs inscribed in government,” author Frederick Clarkson pointed out in 2016, when I first wrote about Religious Freedom Day. Nothing has changed in their core agenda, but the awareness and willingness to confront it has grown, along with the understanding of how they operate.

In fact, the U.S. Constitution was remarkable precisely because it didn’t claim to derive authority from God in the typical top-down manner, but instead, bottom-up, from the people, following the arguments used by John Locke to justify government, as well as his views on religious tolerance and the distinctions between secular and religious spheres of power. God is never mentioned in the Constitution, nor is any form of religion except in the negative: “no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States.”

Source: Celebrate religious freedom — the way the Founding Fathers originally intended

In the same Salon article, Paul interviewed Frederick Clarkson (who writes about the Dominionist Family Research Council’s approach to organizing within churches in a forthcoming article at The Public Eye, “A Manual to Restore a Christian Nation that Never Was”) on how to expose the lies of Dominionists and Christian nationalists and how to preserve religious freedom in the US and protect Jefferson's legacy. Some of the questions and answers are reproduced below:

In discussing the myth that America was founded as a Christian nation, you write, "This feature of the movement — one that stokes much of its followers’ passion — may also contain the seeds of its undoing." What do you mean?  

The problem for Christian nationalists is that it doesn’t hold up under scrutiny. For example, when it came time to forge a coherent national government out of the 13 colonies, the mostly Christian religious and political leaders of the time opted for religious equality under the law, recognizing that if the government could favor a sect or religion, it could control how people think. This is one among many flaws that have always been present in the Christian nationalist narrative, but since most of society didn’t see it, or did not take it seriously, the movement has advanced without being much challenged on the point. 

The religious supremacism inherent in Christian nationalism is repulsive to most people, regardless of their political and religious views. I think if we got serious about taking Jefferson and Madison’s foundational ideas of religious equality under the law into the 21st century, Christian nationalism would crumble. 

The Declaration of Independence is used to smuggle God into the Constitution, but it was written by Thomas Jefferson, who by Cureton's standards was lacking in the very "Christian worldview" that he claims as our nation's lost foundation. How do people like him deal with this contradiction? 

They mostly avoid addressing it. They sometimes point out that Jefferson invoked God at various time and attended church while president. That he said religious things and attended religious services is not, of course, proof against his very public stances in favor of separation of church and state as the best way to guarantee religious freedom for all. That is a problem they cannot actually solve. History is not on their side. 

What can we learn by comparing the actual history of religion in America to the Christian nationalist fantasy?  

When we learn that Christian nationalism is a lie, we get a much clearer sense of hope and possibility in seeing that we are all in this together. We also learn something about what we are up against and therefore have the opportunity to better figure out what needs to be done. I think we also learn that we have been complacent, taking hard-won freedom for granted. But we can also learn of the weakness of their argument, and begin to formulate strong, fact-based arguments against it. 

We can also learn that religious freedom is a powerful, inspiring and authentically revolutionary idea. It is as dangerous to the rich and the powerful today as it was in the 18th century. Religious freedom made possible the best advances in human and civil rights in our history. But we can also see how forces of oppression see that too, and are doing everything they can to neutralize it. 

How does this historical comparison relate to the one you focus on, regarding the history of religious freedom in Virginia and the Bill of Rights? 

I think looking at the Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom, and its role in shaping our constitutional approach to religion and government, exposes the lie of Christian nationalism in a way that allows us to clear away the fog of the long, slow religious war they are waging in America. We also get to see their techniques of strategic misdirection. It’s like learning how a magician performs an illusion: They show us a map of history that points to the Declaration of Independence as the source of the Constitution’s approach to religious freedom. But once we know the story of the Virginia Statue for Religious Freedom and the truth about the origins of our Constitution’s approach to religious freedom, the misdirection is revealed. It is helpful to know our actual history and its meaning, and it is humbling to know how we have allowed the Christian right to use this false narrative to its advantage. 

What is the best way to understand the threat to America that Dominionism represents? How can we best respond to that threat? 

First, we need to take the time to understand that the challenge that we face may not be what we think. Dominionism is not as exotic or as rare as it is sometimes portrayed. It is a comprehensive theology relating to conservative Christians taking control over all areas of life, not just church and state. Its influence is getting wider and deeper, partly because there are many dedicated thinkers and capable doers in this movement. Some are political and governmental leaders. 

Now one might say, what’s wrong with that? Don’t they have a right to bring their Christian values into the public square? To which we say, of course. But by the same standard, we are not required to turn a blind eye to their words, their actions, and their unambiguous intentions. This is what theocratic theorist Gary North called “the dilemma of democratic pluralism.” North asserts that we are obliged to tolerate views that are in fact antithetical to democratic pluralism. The Christian right knows this, and is smart about exploiting our dilemma. How do we oppose something our philosophy requires us to tolerate? 

Let’s not kid ourselves about the profoundly antidemocratic nature of the Dominionist mission. Religious freedom and democracy are not settled matters. We are living the dilemma of democratic pluralism.

How do we address that dilemma? 

There are a lot of things we can do, but here are three things for a start. One is that we need to become much better informed about Dominionism and the way it manipulates the idea of religious freedom to advance an agenda that is anything but free. 

Second, we need to be much better citizen activists, especially in electoral politics. The system we have is competitive. Let’s not cede the playing field to the Christian right, which has invested so much in ideological development and the building of electoral capacity for several generations. It has worked well for them, but they are a well-organized minority: They cannot prevail if the rest of us mobilize in our own best interests. 

Finally, when we hear politicians and religious or interest-group leaders go on about how religious freedom is a “cherished” or “treasured” value, let’s ask them to get real. Religious freedom is not a lovely antique, a family heirloom or a relic of a bygone era. It is a dynamic, progressive value that underlies every other constitutional freedom we have -- and it is under siege. We need to require our leaders to lead in this regard and stop patronizing us.