If nationalism does not eventually eat itself, Christian nationalism surely will. I am not suggesting that Christian nationalism is not dangerous. It is.
I am merely proposing that it is not intimidating in the context of philosophical and theological debates. It is self-destructive.
Christian nationalism self-implodes with the irreconcilable absurdities of the gospels, such as “love thy neighbor.” What the nationalist does with this, not to mention Paul’s ministry to the Gentiles, the story of Ruth, Jonah’s anti-example as an inadequate prophet, Isaiah’s language of “swords into plowshares,” or the Exodus’ anti-empire rhetoric, I do not know.
Christian nationalism may be able to relate to the theological legacy of Pharaoh, Babylon, Assyria, Rome, the Beast, and perhaps even Joshua. However, those analogies would generally invite indictment and damnation in serious Christian biblical theological discourse.
All this to say, “The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down” (Proverbs 14:1).
Might we be challenged with the greater task of offering a persuasive alternative for the Christian nationalist? Could we offer them a new blueprint or compass?
It may be one thing to warn an already weary “fellow good evangelical.” It may be quite another to, in the embodied legacy of Jesus, to cross various real and ideological borders and confuse the hell out of those empires that seek to recruit into violence and destruction.
What theological imagination and prophetic vision might we witness if we had the embarrassing honor of being those through whom the incarnate God speaks? Simply put, can we experiment with what Jesus would do and say?
Might we consider how Jesus is both “other” and “familiar” to us? Might we have eyes to see the appalling nature of what we call worship but Jesus calls slander?
If Jesus took on flesh today, might we imagine him born south of Texas? Might we imagine his family on the run, across borders as kings seek to “disappear” his father? Might we imagine those kings backed by Caesar’s face, Caesar’s sword, Caesar’s dollar?
The middle manager king, a blundering fool, both murdering and intimidated by the poor, the meek, the peacemakers?
Might we imagine Jesus’ hands wounded by border barbed wire?
Is this Palestinian Jew “Christian enough” to not be deported? Are his Catholic brothers and sisters “Christian enough” to not be deported?
What about the Pentecostals? Do they even make the cut for Empire’s evangelists?
Might we imagine him asking an ICE officer Casal’s question: “The love of one’s country is a splendid thing. But why should love stop at the border?”
Will Jesus pack meat and pick fruit for American mouths south of the border or north of the border? Nevertheless, might we imagine his family following El Norte Star toward the hope of life, liberty and joy?
As a child, might we imagine him in the Temple debating the difference between “Never Again” and “Never Again for anyone?”
As an adult, might we imagine him telling stories about “a Protestant Bishop, an esteemed doctor, and a good Iranian?”
Might we ask anew, “Who is our neighbor?”
Where is the limitation of our capacity to imagine compassion? Might we imagine him preaching to the United Methodist Church about “reaping what it sows” and, perhaps, sowing differently?
Might we imagine him taking a weekend trip to Washington, D.C., riding in on a razor scooter he picked up from the Salvation Army?
Might we imagine him asking his American brothers, sisters and siblings: “Who laid the cornerstone of this White House?” When they pull out their smartphones and answer with the architect’s name, might we imagine him correcting them?
Might he say, it was his own ancestors, enslaved, forced into building yet another idolatry to the false god? Tower of Babel, Pyramid, Roman Pantheon or White House?
Might we imagine Jesus walking into the National Cathedral and asking “Which God do they worship here?”
Might we imagine Jesus climbing up Lincoln’s Memorial and onto his lap? Might we imagine him spray painting “KING XERXES” across the “honest” man’s forehead?
Might we imagine him screaming out loud “Voter Fraud! Voter Fraud! These elections are corrupt! Why is no one counting the votes in Puerto Rico?”
Might we imagine him appalled when we see God’s face on green paper but not on flesh and blood?
Might we imagine the real, incarnate presence of God making common ground for the Sadducee, Ted Cruz, and the Pharisee, Bernie Sanders?
Might we imagine the Prince of Peace faithfully disrupting the order of Pax Americana?
Might we imagine him lynched?
The more interesting question might be, who would get to him first? Even if he found any friends as a stranger in this strange land, surely they would have abandoned him by now.
Would it be MAGA who lynches this man? Would it be the white progressive pacifists?
Would law and order set him straight? Would the priests and prophets of the God of Washington, Adams and Jefferson speak up?
Who gets to kill Jesus?
Who takes the first swing at this pinata imported from Mexico? Would the women stay like they did two thousand years ago?
We can sit around with our teeth in our mouths and speak to those receptive to “our solutions” to “our problems,” but what might God’s breath give to the ones we hate?
What questions might pull the stitches of old wineskins, setting the table for communion with God?
Then, would we inaugurate Jesus as President?
Brien Luke McChesney is a first-year Master of Divinity student at Iliff School of Theology. He is pursuing ordination in the United Methodist Church and is passionate about college, youth and children’s ministry. He is happily married to Liz, an amazing woman whose encouragement and support make all his work possible.
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Brien Luke McChesney is a First year Master of Divinity student at Iliff School of Theology. He is pursuing ordination in the United Methodist Church and is passionate about college ministry, youth ministry and children’s ministry. He is happily married to the most amazing woman ever, Liz, whose encouragement and support makes all of his work possible.
