Stop calling them the “Christian Right”

When I was a kid, I loved Easter. For some reason, it made me feel really differently than Christmas did. Perhaps it was all the pomp and circumstance that comes with a modern celebration of Christmas, but regardless, the story of resurrection morning and the week that led up to it felt more visceral, more compelling—like there was much more at stake to young Brit. I started thinking about those feelings again this week after a friend sent me this article: “Palm Sunday Was a Protest, Not a Procession” (the link is gifted to all of you for the next 30 days). It’s beautifully written and one of the best things I’ve read in months, so I hope you’ll take the time to read it this week. 

I grew up in a small town in Alabama, and my family attended a United Methodist Church for the entirety of my adolescence. At that time, the lessons I learned in my congregation felt mostly in alignment with the central messages Jesus shared in the New Testament. We focused on feeding the poor, helping the sick, and welcoming the stranger—simply put, it seemed essential that in order to follow Jesus and be in keeping with his teachings, we needed to freely share what we were blessed to have with others. Heck, the denomination’s own tagline was, “Open hearts. Open minds. Open doors.”

Now, 20 years later, I barely recognize that congregation of people. Not only did they vote to leave the United Methodist tradition because they didn’t want caring queer people like me to be able to be pastors or get married in their sanctuaries, the pews of my once beloved spiritual home are also filled with people who voted for and vehemently support Donald Trump. They parade their identities as “Christians” while making an idol of a despicable man whose values and actions run counter to literally every lesson Jesus taught. But the truth is this: you can’t follow Donald Trump and Jesus at the same time; they are diametrically opposed. 

And as someone who believes firmly in the importance of using accurate language regardless of whether or not we’re living in a horrific “post-truth” era, I think it’s way past time we stop referring to these folks as the “Christian right” or as “Christian nationalists.” Because by espousing Trump’s universally malicious views, they have forfeited the veracity of the word Christian as a personal descriptor—unless the word “fake” is placed in front of it. I’m partial to the mashup up of Fristian, personally, but perhaps Trumpians would be most accurate. 

Here’s the thing about the Bible—I don’t have to believe that Jesus is our savior in order to know what’s written in these (inherently flawed) translations of ancient texts. The bits where Jesus is present are actually some of the most cut and dry when it comes to understanding his meaning. The man loved to repeat himself and hammer his points home, after all. I can’t tell you who was the first person to kick off the “prosperity Gospel” interpretation of Jesus’ teachings, but I’ll never be able to understand the mental gymnastics it must have taken to convince themselves that when Jesus was saying to humble yourself by giving away what you have, he was really just laying out the steps to getting rich. Now THAT is a bit rich. 

People wonder why young folks are running from religion—especially Christianity—in droves. I think it’s obvious; millions of us were raised on the teachings of an endlessly generous, socialist activist, but we can no longer see the reflection of Jesus’ actions in the congregations we come from. I mean is there anything that gives as much “ick” as hypocrisy? 

Now that I am looking back, though, I can see that loving the Easter story ultimately gave me the lens I needed to spot the people I now call my heroes—the people who have embodied that same spirit of servanthood and fighting oppression. When I see video footage of John Lewis and hundreds of others beaten bloody as they crossed the Edmund Pettus bridge, I see that spirit. When I watched the documentary “Crip Camp” and saw the lengths to which Judy Heumann and her friends were willing to go to fight for the good of the disabled community, I saw that spirit. When I look out into the streets and see my friends marching to demand the release of wrongfully detained and deported people, I see that spirit. 

It doesn’t take a genius level IQ to see that Donald Trump is the Pontius Pilate of the story we’re all currently living through. He is the boot on the throats of the most vulnerable among us, and to do anything but oppose him—including remaining neutral—is an act of violence against the people Jesus claimed would inherit the earth. 

Today, I choose to honor the Easter story by celebrating what Jesus really did—flipping over the tables of the money lenders and defying a dictator at whatever cost it took.