Pastor Doug Wilson wants America to become a Christian theocracy. And, eventually, a world fully converted to Christianity. He plans to get there “by peaceful means” such as preaching the gospel, he told CNN in a recent report.
Wilson, who leads Christ Church in Moscow, Idaho, does not shy away from the label Christian nationalist, he said. And his profile is getting bigger: his network of over a hundred churches now stretches from the Pacific Northwest to Washington, D.C., where he recently opened a new congregation. Pete Hegseth, the current Secretary of Defense, attends a Tennessee church that belongs to Wilson’s ministry.
As previous State of Faith newsletter writer Kelsey Dallas wrote, Christian nationalism “is a catch-all term for a complex web of intertwined beliefs. It refers to a worldview held by those who believe, among other things, that the U.S. is meant to be a Christian nation and that being Christian is part of being truly American.”
The rise of Wilson’s reach and influence is an example of how Christian nationalism has moved from the fringes of the discourse into a mainstream orientation in Republican politics. It’s a response to a widespread feeling that our culture lacks clear moral direction and is overly influenced by materialistic, overly sexualized and secular values.
The movement is complex and is often misunderstood. “To be a Christian who loves your country is not to be a Christian nationalist,” Bradley Onishi, a religion scholar, told NPR. “To be a Christian nationalist is to be somebody who thinks that because you’re Christian, you get more of the country than anyone else.”
In general, the idea of a nation rooted in Christian values resonates with many Americans. A 2022 Pew Research poll showed that 45% of Americans believe that the U.S. should be a Christian nation, meaning that the country broadly should be guided by Christian values.
This sentiment is reflected in a broader moment of Christian ideas becoming more visible in public life. Louisiana, Texas and Arkansas passed laws requiring the Ten Commandments to be displayed in classrooms (they all faced lawsuits as a result). Meanwhile, President Donald Trump and Speaker Mike Johnson have used Christian language in their speeches, and Hegseth hosted a Christian prayer service at the Pentagon that’s to become a monthly event. Supporters like Wilson see this as a return to the nation’s roots. Opponents, however, view the shift as a distortion of the First Amendment’s promise of religious liberty.
Whether America’s founders, many of whom were Christian, intended to create a Christian nation is an old and ongoing debate. The United States was not founded as a Christian nation in any official sense, Catherine Brekus, a professor of history of religion at Harvard University told NPR. The Constitution bars religious tests for office and the First Amendment prohibits a national church. Early America included states with official churches, but the federal government avoided endorsing a single faith.
Still, she noted, most early Americans assumed the country would remain largely Protestant and few at the time predicted the waves of Catholic, Jewish and other immigrants who would significantly change the nation’s faith landscape.
For many Americans, faith, politics and patriotism are deeply intertwined — they inform each other and the way that we live and vote. Yet the growing debate around Christian nationalism raises a timely and challenging question of when tolerant public expression and exercise of personal faith crosses the line into shaping laws and institutions that elevate one religion above others.
Fresh off the press
- How Gen Z is navigating life’s big milestones amid economic uncertainty. For some, faith offers a sense of stability.
The FAIR Latter-day Saint Conference took place in Utah this past week and my colleagues reported on some of the highlights:
- Latter-day Saint abuse help line and clergy privilege protect children best, church attorney says.
- Meagan Kohler: ‘We need a broader vision of gender equality’
- ‘This is a woman’s church’: Panel discusses lived experience of Latter-day Saint women.
Term of the week: Rationalists
The Rationalists are a community that prioritizes logical thinking and is heavily influenced by mathematics, philosophy and science, according to the New York Times. One of their main areas of focus is mitigating the risks of AI, believing that it poses existential dangers if not carefully controlled. The group is centered in a complex called Lighthaven in downtown Berkeley, California.
The Rationalists are also creating a culture of communal living, conferences, and rituals according to the story. Experts say it has all the hallmarks of an emerging religion. “Religion is text and story and ritual,” Ilia Delio, a Franciscan sister and professor of theology at Villanova University, told NYT. “All of that applies here.”
What I’m reading
There are new developments in the convergence of religion and AI. Magisterium AI is a new chatbot that some Catholics are using to explore their faith in the church’s teachings. The language model is based on 27,000 church-related documents and is designed to help faithful Catholics understand the church’s teachings. — A Catholic AI app promises answers for the faithful. Can it succeed? The Washington Post.
In his book, “Democracy Needs Religion,” German sociologist Hartmut Rosa makes a case that religion equips society with tools that can help restore democracy and help it thrive. In an ever increasing race for progress and efficiency, we need religion, but not a “dogmatic religion that closes us off from one another, but the kind of religion that facilitates listening, interpersonal connection, transformation and humility.” — Democracy Needs Religion — but Which? First Things
Odds and ends
Visiting Deseret Industries in Utah is always a bit like embarking on a treasure hunt, and the book section often proves to be especially thrilling. My latest trip while visiting my in-laws in Southern Utah didn’t disappoint. I picked up a 2017 edition of “Letters of C.S. Lewis,” which contains letters the writer and theologian wrote to his family, friends and fans and that span from his youth up until right before his death.
It’s especially fascinating to see how his thoughts on faith have evolved as his atheistic view eroded over the years. In 1916 he wrote to Arthur Greeves, one of his lifelong friends from Belfast: “You ask me my religious views: you know, I think, that I believe in no religion. There is absolutely no proof for any of them, and from a philosophical standpoint Christianity is not even the best. All religions, that is, all mythologies to give them their proper name, are merely man’s own invention — Christ as much as Loki.”
In 1931, we encounter Lewis, who has converted to Christianity. He wrote to Greeves after a long night of conversation with his friends J.R.R. Tolkien and Hugo Dyson: “Now the story of Christ is simply a true myth: a myth working on us in the same way as the others, but with this tremendous difference that it really happened: and one must be content to accept it in the same way, remembering the Pagan stories are God expressing Himself through what we call ‘real things.’” These two reflections offer a glimpse into an evolution of his faith. This letter addressed to Professor L. Anderson Orr offers a glimpse into the nature of Lewis’ thoughtful correspondence.