What Do We Believe?

And what will we do about it?

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Big Feelings

For the past two months I have been trying to figure out the right words needed to enter this space again. The time has been filled with immeasurable grief: the sudden, tragic loss of a beloved nephew; the shock of the election results lining up so nicely with other right-wing movements across the world; the slow drift (yet excruciating pain) of relationships strained and lost because of worldviews separated by chasms of misunderstanding and heartache.

Grief is strange, grief is unique, and grief doesn’t just…go away. Grief is like a cat who finds special pleasure in encroaching upon the space of the one person in the house who is not a fan of felines. If grief decides it wants to curl up next to you while you sleep, you may be better off leaning into the feeling than yelling at it or pushing it away. Grief likes a challenge.

So I’ve been making space for grief.

And in the midst of my grief, I’ve also met with my anger, and my fear, and my deep disappointment. Because truly, it seems my generation was sold a lie: we were told if we followed our passions, spoke our truth, and rallied our people, we could change the world. Look what’s happened instead. We began to make change, and those in power will. not. have. it.

So this all leads me to the fundamental question: what is it that I believe? Have my beliefs changed? Do I still believe the things I did 20 years ago, when I was on fire and believed that we were all inevitably headed towards progress and freedom?

The answer, I think, is nuanced.

The Answer is Nuanced and Nuance is the Answer

Here is the exact problem I have with our current reality: in our stress and fears of the future (stoked by an attention economy fueled by the oligarchs of late capitalism), it is nearly impossible for us as human beings to see anything with any kind of true clarity or nuance. It is so easy for us to feel emotionally flooded, all the time, before we even open our mouths to speak to other human beings. We are bombarded by content, and it seems that yes, there are in fact bad actors who are not-so-secretly paying lots of money to not only grab our attention but to tell us what to believe. We are exhausted, frustrated, and more than happy to consume.

Just give us a leader who can show us the way.

Friends. This is how fascism happens.

It’s not imminent—we are already in it. I won’t try to convince you of it because there are so many books on the subject. Podcasts. Historians who have been studying these things for years. This is not fear-mongering. We’re in late-stage capitalism and we are about to see how bad things can get when we hand over power to the ones who are so resourced as to be untouchable.

The Why Behind Our What

But what of belief? When I was an ex-pat teen living in Switzerland in the late 90’s, my European friends would often point out to be how strange it is that Americans always want to talk about politics and religion. These are such personal matters, they’d note. Why do you Americans keep trying to convince everyone to come over to your way of thinking?

One friend in particular pushed back when I tried to explain to him why I thought it was important to tell him about my personal relationship with Jesus. His argument? We were friends—good friends, true friends—why did I want to mess with that by repeating talking points I had heard at church? I told him—I don’t want to tell you what I’ve been told to say, I want to tell you my experience, that’s all. Not because I want to change your mind, but because I want you to know me. I meant it. He believed me.

That might have been the first time I saw my faith outside of the context of a greater religious tradition. The first time I realized it was possible to deeply believe something and also recognize that I had the agency and responsibility to determine what my purpose was in sharing it.

The seeds had been planted before that: my mother, who had been brought up in Methodist and Presbyterian churches but who had married my devoutly Catholic father, often reminded me of the power of personal belief, critical thinking skills, and the beauty that can be found in a diversity of ideas. My high school philosophy class introduced me to the idea of a morality greater than the black and white beliefs of good and evil: here was the idea of nuance, of subjectivity, of using the information and conviction one has to make the best possible decision in the moment. And then of course there was learning about the Crusades, sitting not at a desk in Texas, where, as a primary school student I had been taught to never forget the Alamo, but in my high school, a renovated Swiss villa, only a couple hundred miles away from Dachau. (Believe me, the Crusades hit different when you learn about them after visiting a concentration camp). I didn’t realize, at the time, that my high school education at an American international school was solidifying in me a worldview and belief system that would be much, much different than many of my loved ones back in the States.

I started this newsletter as an attempt to understand politics and to share what I was learning as I learned it, in hopes that I’d be helping other people find resources and stories they wouldn’t naturally be exposed to. Recently, the thrumming in my heart has been telling me to stop trying to keep up with the headlines and instead to speak more about what I know in my bones to be true, no matter what kind of chaos is happening around me.

And man, I keep thinking about my friend who asked why I needed to talk about Jesus.

The Way of Jesus is Not Christian Nationalism

Because I need to talk about Jesus. Not because I need to convince anyone of anything. Not because I need anyone to believe that Jesus was anything more than a teacher who challenged the status quo. We’re all on our own path.

I need to talk about Jesus because the President we just elected is being touted as a Messianic figure. We have been inundated with books, memes, prayers—the Trump Bible!—and the message is clear: to follow Jesus is to follow Donald Trump.

Read that again: to follow Jesus is to follow Donald Trump.

The American Evangelical Church has been co-opted. Infiltrated. Bought.

Jesus did not say “you must choose who you will follow, God or Satan.” Jesus said, “You must choose who you will follow: God, or money.”

Money.

But somewhere in our American consciousness, a belief has grown that America will prosper—individual Americans will prosper—if we do what God (but really our pastor) tells us to do. Materially prosper.

Did you know that there was a massive push in White Evangelical churches this year—not only to vote, but to vote specifically for Trump? Did you know that certain churches hired buses to deliver their congregants to the voting booths, reminding them to vote according to “God’s plan” (meaning NOT Kamala Harris, meaning DEFINITELY Donald Trump)? Why do you think that was?

Why is it that White Evangelical Americans once again delivered the presidency to Donald Trump, when mainline Protestant churches (Methodist, Presbyterian, Lutheran, Episcopalian, etc.) and Black Evangelical Americans decidedly voted against him?

And is it a coincidence that mainline Protestant churches (and many Catholic traditions) prioritize the themes of social justice and care for those in need while White Evangelical churches prioritize obedience to authority?

To me the message seems clear: if you are a White Evangelical and you love your country but you believe your country has done you dirty (look at all these other people, who don’t worship like you, getting all the goodies from the government without even trying!) and who tell you that you are racist and ignorant and that you are actively causing harm when you are just trying to share the gospel!! Well, all you have to do is vote for Donald Trump! He’s going to make you rich! He’s going to stop all the libs from persecuting you! He’s going to make a special place for Christians in his administration. He will defeat our enemies! You’ll never have to vote again! Just this one time, for him. Just trust him. We do!

But somehow I don’t recall Jesus ever saying “Follow me— I’m gonna make you SO RICH you won’t even believe it. I’m going to smite the people who speak ill of you. I’m going to set us up so that we are rulers of this land.”

No. Jesus promised a hard road. He promised sacrifice, because power does not like to be challenged. He told us this. He told us we could not serve two masters, and if we serve money, we will not know God.

The Thief Comes in the Night

The reason I say all of this is because there is currently a massive push to, as Steve Bannon once so eloquently put it, “Flood the zone with shit.” Trump wants to rename the Gulf of Mexico and take Greenland and Canada by force. Okay, fine. He knows this will get people talking. His antics never cease. But what is he trying to distract us from?

How about his cabinet nominees, who apparently need no background checks? With ties to foreign adversaries or histories of violence?

The forces at work behind the incoming administration have such deep ties to values divorced from the message of the Jesus.*

This cognitive dissonance is important to recognize because Donald Trump has been touted by Evangelicals as a vessel of God—regardless of his character or the way he walks through the world. But as I said, Trump and his antics are a distraction.

I’m talking about the Pete Hegseths of the world who are not only known for assaulting women, but also have religious hate symbols tattooed on their bodies.

I’m talking about the Harrison Butkers who not only offend liberal women’s sensibilities but also belong to radically traditional Catholic Churches that reject the freedoms laid out in Vatican II.

I’m talking about the Elon Musks who not only buy their power and influence but also hold disturbing views on human evolution and personal value.

The Peter Thiels, who believe there’s nothing inherently wrong with monopolies.

The whole lot of them who believe that machismo and traditional gender roles will save us (oh I’m sorry, by “us” they actually mean ridiculously smart white people) from extinction.

Do you see how the confluence of these beliefs might be a tad problematic?

Before the election I wrote draft upon draft on these people and their beliefs, but I never published them because honestly it all seemed so obvious to me. What could I possibly contribute to the conversation?

I didn’t realize what a niche topic this actually is.

My Newfound Purpose

I follow these stories because the intersection of religion and culture is a deeply held special interest of mine. Maybe it’s because I listen to podcasts about how to deconstruct a religious upbringing while maintaining a deep, abiding, personal faith. Maybe it’s because during the first Trump administration I found myself at a retreat for healing spiritual trauma, not knowing why I was there exactly, and also knowing it was the only reasonable place for me as I sifted through all the junk Trump had brought to the surface of our collective unconscious.

I’m still a cat lady, and I’m still feeling sad—mostly because the faith of my childhood had been co-opted into something unrecognizable. And also because I know that legacy media is loathe to cover stories about Christian nationalism, or even Christianity, for fear of being seen as biased.

But there is a lot going on under the surface, and I fear we will find out about it much sooner than we realize.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you. I’m committed to staying in this space as long as I can, for whoever will read my words. I will be amplifying the voices and the work of the people who are covering the stories of Christian Nationalism, its ties to authoritarian control, and anything that we might be able to do to counteract the harmful narratives which are just going to keep getting stronger.

Matthew D. Taylor, author of The Violent Take it By Force, said on The New Evangelicals podcast this week that while he has all the respect in the world for people who have no ties to the history or traditions of the Christian faith, his urgent message is for people who do see themselves as followers of Jesus. It’s up to us, he said. Because we are the ones who will understand the narratives that are woven with intent to deceive, the signs and symbols of our co-opted faith.

This may be true, and this is why his words felt like lightning in my belly when I heard them.

But the truth is we need everyone to be aware of what’s happening. And you don’t have to be a Christian or Exvangelical to join the fight. Let’s just be clear-eyed about the fact that we’re going to have to brush up on our religious history, symbols of faith, and the ways that Puritanical sensibilities have been shaping our country since the first colonizers laid claim to this land.

If this makes sense, if you see the patterns, if you want to know more, I hope you’ll journey with me.

Hold on tight.

*”Values” is a loose term when we’re talking about White Supremacy and wealth.