Andrew Whitehead on Confronting American Idolatry

The scholar offers a more personal book, and one that places battling Christian nationalism in believers' hands

I’d like to start with a quick note of thanks to

Eric Sentell

, for having me on his podcast Metamorphosis this week. I was also surprised by a lovely review of Disobedient Women in Word & Way. If you’ve read DW and haven’t left a review on Amazon, GoodReads, or wherever you share about books, please do! I need help from readers to spread the word about the book.

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Andrew Whitehead (of

American Idolatry

) is a sociologist of religion whose name I first learned when I started trying to understand Christian nationalism. This was a few years back, when I was interviewing women who were leaving their churches for a variety of reasons—misogyny, church leaders defending abusers, the politicalization of their faith. But as I tried to understand how American Christian faith had become wed, not only with politics, but a fierce desire for power, I needed new vocabulary. I found Andrew’s work and started to grasp how certain stances (on women, anti-Muslim sentiment, certain racial prejudices) might all exist among groups of people striving for a Christian nation, but there were factors even more deeply at the roots of their desire for domination. There was something more apocalyptical, a winner take-all exclusive desire for power that I hadn’t fully seen articulated elsewhere.

I’ve followed Andrew’s work over the years. Since the Capitol Insurrection, and especially since some of our national leaders have started to proudly don the label of “Christian nationalist,” I’ve found his efforts as an academic to be vital to understanding the currents motivating swaths of our country.

American Idols, the podcast

He’s recently launched a new podcast on Christian nationalism (in collaboration with Straight White American Jesus’s

Brad Onishi

). My most urgent reason for wanting to talk to Andrew now, though, is that he also just published a book, American Idolatry, which is a little different than what I’ve come to expect from an Andrew Whitehead by-line, and I’m grateful for it in a new way. In the book, Andrew speaks in the voice of a believer, not just a scholar, and articulates the threat of Christian nationalism, not only to our country, but also to the church. At moments, it is personal, and this shows the stakes for him as an author. This is not merely a cerebral exercise. He’s speaking up for a faith that he loves.

Andrew was kind enough to answer some questions for me and In Polite Company readers.

SS: This is a book that responds to Christian nationalism with an eye toward the gospel. At the beginning of the book, you differentiate between the doxastic gospel (theological claims that can be believed or rejected, such as the death and resurrection of Christ) and the practical gospel (which flows from those beliefs and includes guidance on how to live if you believe, including loving one’s neighbor and seeing justice for the oppressed).

It strikes me that what is defined as the “practical gospel” here is what I grew up understanding as the social justice gospel. Is that what you’re getting at?

AW: Thank you for the opportunity to share a bit about my book! And yes, I think the faith communities that you and I likely grew up in would have labeled (derisively) any expression of the Christian faith focused on the common good and flourishing of all people the “social justice” gospel. At least, that’s how my faith community would have dismissed notions of changing social structures to encourage a common flourishing.

SS: That’s a fair guess, but I actually have an aunt who (with my uncle) ran a Catholic Workers home to help immigrants settle in the U.S. It’s probably one of the most compelling acts of faith I’ve ever seen, so in my mind, a ‘social justice gospel’ is a pretty positive thing. But I know some people and their churches do indeed dislike that term.

Anyway, what’s been the result of focusing on the doxastic gospel over the practical one?

AW: It’s wonderful you had that personal connection—I wish I could have seen more of that growing up. As I continued on my faith journey, it became clear to me that by only focusing on an overly spiritualized understanding of the Christian gospel American Christians have been able to create and perpetuate social systems that create inequality and primarily benefit them, and then let themselves off the hook regarding doing anything about it by saying the gospel only deals with our individual salvation. I saw this in myself and my own journey, and it appears others can attest to this sort of outcome, as well.

SS: I also wonder though: Christian nationalists also have their theology and a sort of “practical gospel” flowing from it too—it’s just that theirs involves xenophobia, reliance on violence, and a thirst for power.

AW: I understand your point that the particular expression of Christianity inherent to Christian nationalism has a “practical gospel.” All expressions of Christianity have repercussions in our social worlds. My goal is to encourage white, American Christians to reckon with the damage and destruction this particular expression of Christianity brings to marginalized and oppressed people throughout history. I hope we can begin to hear how we have destroyed more than brought life and flourishing to the world around us.

SS: You get into this in the book, of course, but for those who haven’t read it yet, can you explain why you think that “love your neighbor” version of Christianity is a valid practical gospel, while the habits of Christian nationalism create idols?

AW: After years of writing and publishing peer-reviewed studies and then ultimately my first book on Christian nationalism, the evidence of social science is clear on the xenophobia, racism, sexism, homophobia, and violence Christian nationalism is associated with. In this book, I then move beyond that evidence to make a normative claim that American Christians should move toward expressions of the Christian faith that oppose Christian nationalism because it is only by doing so that we can truly love our neighbors and do good to those around us. The congregations I grew up in taught the importance of loving one’s neighbors, but I realized that oftentimes white Christianity then asks, “and who is my neighbor?” in order to limit who we are called to love and serve. It’s that disconnect that I hope to help others in the faith recognize.

SS: You do a beautiful job of weaving data on Christian nationalism—a field of study for which you are a leading expert—with the implications of these sorts of beliefs. You write, “Christian nationalism is obsessed with power… Because the final goal of Christian nationalism is a nation where white, culturally and religiously conservative, natural-born citizens occupy the unquestioned center of the culture and enjoy privileged access to interpersonal, organizational, and institutional control.”

Theirs is a story of the “right people” having power.

To protect people from a future defined by Christian authoritarianism, doesn’t that mean shattering their hold on power—and in its own way, mean claiming that power in opposition to Christian nationalism?

AW: Thank you for the kind words! And yes, power only responds to power. The goal is for Christians to no longer pursue what I call “self-interested power,” power meant to serve only “us,” and our in-group. Christians, like all Americans, can and should be involved in our broader society and political realities. This necessarily involves engaging with and using power.

The difference, though, is that a Christian expression that opposes Christian nationalism is committed to sharing access to power with other groups, recognizing we are but one seat at the table, and working toward the employment of political power in directions that serve and benefit all Americans, not just “us.” I hope American Christians can expand the “us” in such a way that they defend and protect the rights of all their neighbors to live, work, and participate in civil society equally. I think Martin Luther King, Jr.’s famous quote about love and power is instructive: “What is needed is a realization that power without love is reckless and abusive and that love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice. Justice at its best is love correcting everything that stands against love.”

SS: That’s a really good distinction. I’m naturally very skeptical of power, and what it does to people. Devil’s advocate question here (since I know you’ve thought about this deeply), how can people wanting to prevent a Christian nationalist hold on power avoid falling into the same moral traps? You write “to pursue justice, Christians will have to seek and use power. This employment of power should rather benefit all people, especially our neighbors who have been harmed or overlooked.”

I guess what I’m wondering is why should non-Christians trust this impulse? Many feel burned already by Christians of any sort with great power.

AW: I can empathize with this question, and I often wonder along these lines myself. My hope is to encourage American Christians to recognize that to live and work in a pluralistic, democratic society we are going to have to work with and alongside those who hold different beliefs than us. However, we should all equally value the democratic process, compromise, defending the rights of others to believe or not believe without government interference, to work toward social policies and projects that support and benefit the oppressed and marginalized. In short, we have to all share power.

I do not begrudge any non-Christian who is skeptical because American Christians and Christianity has for so long failed to consistently share power.

SS: I’m making this all sound more philosophical and less pragmatic than it is. You give specific examples of how self-interested power, driven by Christian nationalist ideals, has shaped civic life. Some examples are Project Blitz (a package of prewritten bills state lawmakers can use to institutionalize Christian nationalist aims at all levels of civic life) and the National Association of Christian Lawmakers (NACL), which organizes Christian lawmakers around faith-based legislation. Groups like these take what could be mere theological positions and bake them into laws we’re all subject to.

I thought it was interesting that you turned this not just into a political observation, but one about faith—namely the harm such efforts have on the witness of American Christians to the rest of the world. Can you talk a little about that concern?

AW: I appreciate this question, and I think it could be interpreted in a couple ways. The first could be how the NACL has turned people off, the second that the efforts of the NACL has harmed the witness of American Christians to the rest of the world.

In this case, it is clear that constantly angling for self-interested power has sowed distrust among groups that do not share those beliefs. Why then would those outside the Christian faith have any desire to listen to, interact with, or work beside Christians who only want to wield power over them? This expression of the Christian faith routinely claims it wants to bring people into the faith—if that is true, these grasps at power only serve to push people away.

In the second case, I want to state clearly that I am not personally invested in “saving” or “protecting” or “rehabilitating” the witness of the American Christian church. I believe Christians should move toward alternative expressions of the Christian faith that oppose and confront Christian nationalism because it is the right thing to do, and we need to treat our neighbors and fellow humans with dignity and love. We shouldn’t see serving and loving our neighbors only in self-interested terms, that this will ultimately “bring people into the church” as though that is the only ultimate goal. My hope is we would actually love and care for those around us, see them in their full humanity, and work for their good because that is right and good.

However, I am writing to an audience that has for decades claimed that the witness of the church is incredibly important. I heard this message over and over again. And so, to reach this audience I use this claim to try and show them how embracing Christian nationalism has failed them if they indeed see the “witness of the church” as paramount. Even though I personally don’t think it is, some of those I’m trying to reach believe so, and in order to speak to an audience it is important to meet them where they are and use their language. So in this sense, it is a somewhat strategic choice.

SS: That last bit is extremely smart, and I think shows how important it is to have people talking from within faith about the dangers of Christian nationalism. I really want to talk about those dangers.

You included a quote from U.S. Representative Lauren Boebert: “On Twitter, a lot of the little Twitter trolls, they like to say, ‘Oh, Jesus didn’t need an AR-15, how many AR-15s do you think Jesus would’ve had?’ Well, he didn’t have enough to keep his government from killing him.”

You also wrote a really compelling chapter that detailed the violence done by leaders (who considered themselves Christian) to Native American children; the tragedy of lynching; modern violence against Black people, justified as defense against perceived threat in what some see as their own rightful space. You write, “No matter the scale, Christian nationalism provides theological justification for violence toward enemies…”

It’s all so daunting and difficult to absorb in total. I find myself wondering, how did we get here? I mean, certainly the history of Christianity has not been without bloodshed (e.g., the Crusades). But in the U.S., when you have believers who can read in their Bibles a recommendation to lay down your sword (because all who take up the sword will perish by the sword), how is it they come to accept a rhetoric that imagines Jesus might have been better off armed with an AR-15?

AW: This is a great question, and I think the history of Christianity as it first came to these shores underscores the intimate connection between violence, power, and Christianity. From the beginning, I think the idols of power and fear have led American Christians to accept any means necessary to protect privileged access to power in order to assuage a sense of fear and threat. The strong boundaries created between “us” and “them” necessarily result in protecting and defending those boundaries and violence is the natural result. As I write in the book, this extends from individual expressions—arming oneself with as many guns as possible—to collective expressions like a nation committed to waging war. Over time various theologies were created and accepted in order to make sense of why and how Christians could participate in such violence. This expression of Christianity argues that protecting oneself and one’s family through violence is an absolute right of every human being—as long as they look and worship like “us.”

This helps explain, for instance, why white Christian political leaders supported gun control measures when racial minorities took up arms, but absolutely oppose any sort of gun control laws for white, natural-born citizens.

SS: You make it clear that a form of Christian nationalism that celebrates whiteness is not the only path for the church. You give examples of how faith bolstered the civil rights movement, for example, and also note how in Black churches, Christian nationalism can actually correlate with an eagerness to embrace others (instead of a xenophobia that opposes immigration and dispersed power across races, like in white, Christian nationalism).  

I’m also thinking about people living now in communities, like Moscow, Idaho, which have become divided between Christian nationalists and those just trying to live their lives. It can feel really scary for some who speak up.

Absolutely, faith can motivate freedom movements, such as the American civil rights movement, in the individual lives of people putting their bodies on the line for justice. But… I also see how easily it can all go sideways. The power of non-violent resistance is in the conscience of its witnesses. But for those resisting, it’s a practice of sacrifice.

I guess what I’m wondering is what makes you optimistic that enough Christians will give up this idol of Christian nationalism and want to fight for equality for other types of people?