All Posts

What Critics Often Get Wrong About Christian Nationalism

Last month I enjoyed a fun Memorial Day parade in my hometown of Newburgh, NY. I expected the procession to include a lot of flags, police cars, marching bands, and fire engines—and it did. More surprising to me however, were the large number of Latino evangelicals present in the parade, and particularly the prominent blending of Christianity and American patriotism. There was a Spanish-speaking church with multiple parade floats, led by a trio of  Hispanic men blowing shofars, followed by an Israeli flag, the Christian flag, and dozens of American flags. As the lead pastor rode by, dressed in a suit and waving to the crowd, I could read “One Nation Under God” and “In God we trust” written across the side of his van, which was decked out with more American flags. Spanish worship music blared from the speakers.

Photo from Hudson Valley Press

Seeing this blend of Christianity and patriotism made me reflect on the nature of Christian nationalism. Political science theorist Paul Miller writes: “Christian nationalism is the belief that the American nation is defined by Christianity, and that the government should take active steps to keep it that way.” Christian nationalism has been in the news a lot recently, as it becomes increasingly apparent that many Trump supporters—particularly those who attempted the coup on January 6, 2021—are fervent believers in this ideology. While Christian nationalism has often seemed to the domain of white evangelicals, who form the bedrock of Trump’s support and supported him in record numbers in 2016 and 2020, there are a growing number of Christians of other ethnicities who have also embraced Christian nationalism, including Christians of Spanish descent. Political journalists have noted the massive swing towards Trump that occurred in these communities (especially in Texas and Florida) in the 2020 elections as compared to 2016. While I didn’t see any Trump signs at the Memorial Day parade, I would guess that many of these Latino evangelicals might also fit into that category.

And that brings me to the main point of my blog today. Watching the Memorial Day parade, while fun, brought up some uncomfortable reminders of Christian nationalism, and the dangers that can arise when Christians attempt to coerce others into our faith through political power. I could go on and on about the problems with nationalism generally, and have blogged about it in the past. However, most recent critiques of Christian nationalism in America that I have come across—particularly by those who aren’t Christian— typically focus on three problematic aspects: 1. its connections to white supremacy, 2. the focus on America First, and 3. a centering of Protestant Christianity. All of these critiques are of course valid to a certain extent in the United States, but I want to highlight what I saw in the Newburgh Memorial Day parade as a caution: if your main critique of Christian Nationalism is that it is too centered on whiteness, America, and/or Protestantism, then your critique simply will not apply to many versions of Christian nationalism in our world today. 

As the Latino parade marchers illustrate, more and more, Christian Nationalism is NOT a domain of European whiteness- nor even of America. One can look more broadly at the rise of Christian nationalism in Brazil, or African nations like Uganda. There are attempts by more and more non-white peoples around the world to inscribe Christian values into their countries’ laws through legislation and political power. And lest one think that Christian nationalism is a fundamentally evangelical or Protestant phenomenon, one only has to look at the twisted version of Russian Orthodoxy that Putin has mobilized and militarized alongside Russian Archbishop Kirill in order to justify his imperialistic endeavors. Even in America, more and more Catholics are building alliances with their former Protestant rivals in order to fight what they see as rising “wokeness.” Contrary to what one might have heard, Christian nationalism is not a solely white, American, or Protestant phenomenon. 

Moreover, these narrow secular critiques of Christian nationalism remind me of the argument that philosopher Susan Sontag had with the poet Adrienne Rich regarding the nature of German Nazis’ ideology. Adrienne Rich had argued that the best way to understand Nazism was solely through the lens of misogyny–she wrote that Nazism was “patriarchy at its purest, most elemental form.” Sontag rebutted that while misogyny was certainly present, to focus on patriarchy over and above other aspects of Nazism (such as racism, anti-Semitism, violence, capitalism, imperialism, etc) is to deny the complexity of the problem. Similarly, to simply denounce Christian Nationalism solely for being too white, or too American, is dangerously myopic, and leaves one open to counter-arguments like this: “Well, we can’t be Christian nationalists because we aren’t white and we aren’t American!” They fail to comprehend the real appeal of Christian nationalism, which is the same appeal it has held for millennia, ever since the Roman Emperor Constantine co-opted the faith in 313 CE and began using it to justify his rule and reign. Christian nationalism is appealing because it is a form of idolatry, of using the name of God to bless one’s empire and defeat one’s enemies (domestic or foreign).

If Christian nationalism is only really wrong because America does it, then your critique can’t go back further than 1776; if it’s only wrong because it’s too Protestant, it can’t go back further than 1517; if it’s only wrong because it’s too white, then you can’t go back further than the 1400s (when the concept of “whiteness” originated). We need to go back further than that.

Thus, to lay my cards not he table, I believe the fundamental weakness of critiquing Christian Nationalism for being too racist, too American, or too Protestant is that it simply does not go deep enough; it fails to address the root of the problem. (And to be clear, the problem is not that Christians are acting voting and acting according to their moral beliefs about what is right or wrong—because that is hopefully true for EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON.) The core problem at the heart of Christian nationalism is this–should Christians be attempting to establish Christianity as the pre-eminent religion? Should Christians ever use political power to coerce people to follow Jesus? 

Admittedly, some Christians, particularly those who have a dim view of free will, have no problem with this. They might argue that other religions—notably Islam—spread through the sword, and if governmental power helps people to make other wise decisions (like wearing a seatbelt), then why not use coercion to force people to become Christian? For me and other Anabaptists, however, it is clear from the New Testament that Jesus’ Kingdom is not of this world, and as such he forbids his followers from using the sword to advance their interests. The earliest Christians refused to fight in wars, and would not use force to make others believe. We Anabaptists do not even baptize infants, insisting that they be able to make a free choice to be baptized when they are mature enough to decide for themselves. Thus Anabaptists such as myself would argue that Christianity is always wrong when it uses violence to coerce others into following Jesus, and our critique can go back all the way to the “Christianization” of the Roman Empire in 313 CE, would apply all the way through the Crusades, Inquisition, and European conquests, and will keep on applying going forward regardless what form Christian nationalism takes next. 

For example, I think there is a chance, however small, that within the next century China will hit a tipping point where the number of Christians becomes too large for the government to keep repressing. Imagine then a Chinese version of Roman Emperor Constantine, who decides that it is easier to co-opt Christianity to serve his regime rather than to keep fighting it. Imagine that then we see a new version of Christian nationalism that uses the cross to justify Chinese persecution of the Muslim Uighurs, Chinese expansionism in Asia, and even a war against the increasingly non-Christian West. If your critique of Christian nationalism is that it is too white, or too centered on American Christianity or Protestantism, then you would have little to say against a uniquely Chinese Christian nationalism. (Or Brazilian Christian nationalism, or Ugandan Christian nationalism… etc). 

However, if instead you have been critiquing Christian nationalism all along because Jesus’ followers are called to never use violence against their opponents, then you actually have a worthwhile—and consistent!—counter-philosophy to offer. That is why I think it is so crucial in this time for Anabaptist Christians to offer up their theology of pacifism (and our connected critiques of Christian nationalism) and spread it far and wide. Lord knows that Western Christians need to understand that Christian nationalism is flawed; but the center of the Church is no longer in the West. Now is the time for Christians around the entire globe to learn from Western Christianity’s mistakes and to reject the temptation to pick up the sword. Otherwise, we will see the heartbreaking cycle of violence continue in a new generation, staining the name of Jesus once more as rising powers in the Global East and South flex their muscles and attempt to build their own Christian Empires. 

The sword is a lot easier to carry than the cross. Every generation since Peter sliced off the servants’ ear in the garden of Gethsemane will be tempted to establish God’s Kingdom through violence. But that’s not the way of Jesus. And Christians of every tribe, nation, and tongue need to be reminded of that. 

[For a book that does a great job of critiquing Christian nationalism both in principle and as it has been practiced in America, I recommend Paul Miller’s The Religion of American Greatness: What’s Wrong with Christian Nationalism. Paul Miller is himself a practicing Christian so this book is an insider’s view at the philosophical and theological issues with Christian nationalism.]

[For another book that is a bit shorter and less academic, but was written 18 years ago so it’s a bit out of date, I’d recommend Greg Boyd’s Myth of a Christian Nation. This book was one of the biggest influences on how I shifted in my political and religious views away from Christian nationalism and to my current views.]

The Atlantic Article That Explains How InterVarsity Can Postpone America’s Collapse

I read a fascinating article in The Atlantic that explains that the collapse of every civilization often can be linked to two main drivers of instability: broad economic stagnation, and too many elites. Oxford researcher Peter Turchin explains: 

“All human societies experience recurrent waves of political crisis, such as the one we face today. My research team built a database of hundreds of societies across 10,000 yearsto try to find out what causes them. We examined dozens of variables, including population numbers, measures of well-being, forms of governance, and the frequency with which rulers are overthrown. We found that the precise mix of events that leads to crisis varies, but two drivers of instability loom large. The first is popular immiseration—when the economic fortunes of broad swaths of a population decline. The second, and more significant, is elite overproduction—when a society produces too many superrich and ultra-educated people, and not enough elite positions to satisfy their ambitions. [emphasis added]” 

In our current day, we know that many working class Americans have been left behind, but Turchin explains that even college-educated Americans aren’t doing well across the board anymore, because too many people have college degrees in comparison to the positions available to them (even in STEM fields). He writes: “Competition is healthy for society, in moderation. But the competition we are witnessing among America’s elites has been anything but moderate. It has created very few winners and masses of resentful losers. It has brought out the dark side of meritocracy, encouraging rule-breaking instead of hard work. All of this has left us with a large and growing class of frustrated elite aspirants, and a large and growing class of workers who can’t make better lives for themselves.” 

Turchin goes on to explain using historical examples that the most likely ways that this tension will be resolved is either through a violent revolution that has the effect of wealth and status redistribution, or if elites are willing to “sacrifice their near-term self-interest for our long-term collective interests.” 

And this is where InterVarsity comes in. 

You see, InterVarsity Christian Fellowship is a campus ministry that helps to disciple tens of thousands of college students at 700+ colleges and universities across America—representing the next batch of Turchin’s (potential) elites, entering an incredible competitive environment. Through Bible studies, worship, and discipleship, we work to help college students encounter the living Jesus and follow him in every area of their lives. But the thing about following Jesus, is that Jesus calls people repeatedly to love their neighbors, to forgo self-interest, to be willing to sell all their possessions and give to the poor, to love their enemies, to deign worldly status….in short, to be willing to give up all the trappings of being an “elite” and to instead identify with the meek, humble, and lowly. In InterVarsity we regularly study stories of the early church pooling their possessions and eliminating poverty; we reflect deeply on the dangers of the selfish pursuit of wealth and power. We hear how different Jesus’ Kingdom is compared to the kingdoms of this world. We encourage students to take practical steps to go outside of their elite college bubbles to serve the poor, to sacrifice for the sake of others, to work for justice for the oppressed. In short, InterVarsity is an institution uniquely poised to help potential elites to be willing to sacrifice their near-term self-interest for long term collective interests. 

[I am describing InterVarsity because it is the organization I work for and know best. But any faithful Christian institution that follows Jesus’ teachings will hopefully guide its adherents to similar conclusions.] 

Not everyone appreciates this aspect of following Jesus. In fact, it is this anti-elitist tendency within Christianity that the atheist philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche especially despised. He labeled it as “slave morality” — a morality created by the weak, oppressed, and humiliated people of the world to feel better about themselves. He thinks this slave morality is an obstacle to true human flourishing, which he believed requires people with strong wills to dominate others and disregard any ethical limits. Nietzsche argued we need elite “Ubermen” to dominate and lead, lest the world collapse into mediocrity. (And of course, there are many who call themselves Christian who would agree with Nietzsche’s prescription for more strongmen). I obviously disagree with Nietzsche’s desire for more strongmen. But in terms of his diagnosis of Christian theology, I think Nietzsche is correct— the New Testament does indeed promote a version of “slave morality,” and passages like the Beatitudes or Philippians 2 illustrate that perfectly. In Philippians, Paul says we are to take on the mind of Christ, who made himself a slave. And if the Son of God took on the form a slave in order to suffer and die for others, then how much more so should we his followers be willing to forsake our own elite power, status, and possessions! 

That said, if we assume Turchin’s analysis is correct, organizations such as InterVarsity are playing a small but key role in keeping America from a collapse into violent revolution. College graduates that are following Jesus might choose to exit the elite rat race and pursue less-glamorous alternative callings, thus filling gaps in the lower rungs of society and simultaneously making the elite economy less competitive. Others may remain elites but do so in alternative ways, such as by giving generously or leading their companies and institutions to pursue goals that benefit the world long-term (even if they are less profitable in the short-term). Politics can look different when the voters and candidates choose to love their enemies and seek the “shalom” of their cities rather than pursuing a strategy of divide and conquer. Even the most elite Christians can do a lot to serve the least of these: it was Bono who advocated for Jubilee debt forgiveness of African nations, and helped get the PEPFAR anti-AIDS program passed during the Bush administration which has already saved 25 million African lives. 

None of this is to say that America’s trajectory can be corrected by a few thousand college graduates desperately trying to follow Jesus. Yet, just as a small bit of yeast can leaven a large batch of dough, it’s possible that the lives of a handful of faithful people refusing to live like the other elites might just be enough to turn the tide. Stranger things have happened. 

Three Parts of the New Testament that are Enriched By Knowing Roman Culture and History 

For Christians, it is a core belief that God came in human flesh as Jesus and made himself known in a specific time and place —  1st Century C.E. Palestine. While Christians have long held that our beliefs can be translated into every language and culture (unlike other religions such as Islam, which holds the Q’aran is only the perfect word of Allah when it’s written in Arabic), it is nevertheless the case that one’s understanding of Jesus and his teachings will be enhanced if we bear in mind the contexts and cultures he was speaking to. There are two immediate ways that this must be applied. First, I strongly believe Christians need to increase their understanding of ancient Jewish laws, customs, and culture. Without that, Jesus’ references to things like Jubilee, Sabbath, and even his death on the cross during Passover lose much of their significance. I strongly believe that much of what makes Christianity unique and special is lost when we ignore the Jewish underpinnings of the New Testament. 

However, the second cultural context that we must keep in mind is that of the Roman Empire, which by the time of Jesus had displaced the Greek empire and established control of the entire Mediterranean region. While in our time it has become fashionable in elite circles to jettison learning about the “Classics” in favor of non-Western perspectives, Christians of all backgrounds will always derive benefits from learning about ancient Greek and Roman culture because it is in that context that the New Testament was written. When Paul, Luke, Mark, and others write to their readers, they include many words, phrases, and concepts that are loaded with meaning that would have been commonly understood by those who lived in this Greco-Roman context, but that are harder for us modern readers to grasp. Thus while the Good News of Jesus is simple enough that even a child can understand it, modern adults can benefit from a more thorough understanding of Roman history and culture. Jesus could have come at another time in history (say, during the Babylonian or Persian empires), but he was born right at the dawn of the Roman Empire—which has significance for how we understand his teachings and ministry. 

Here are three specific insights that have been on my mind recently. 

1. Adopted by God

While Julius Caesar was the man who effectively ended the Roman Republic by crossing the Rubicon with his army and assuming emergency powers in 49 BCE, it was his adopted son Octavian (known now as Caesar Augustus) who really ushered in the age of Roman Empire. It is this same Caesar Augustsus who is named in the beginning of Luke, and every person in the Roman Empire would be well familiar with his story. After Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 BCE, his will stated that Octavian, who was biologically only a great nephew, was to be considered as his adopted son. As historian Adrian Goldsworthy writes in Augustus: First Emperor of Rome, “Adoption was taken very seriously by the Romans, and an adopted son became to all intents and purposes the same as a true son…a young man who received Julius Caesar’s wealth and name inevitably also took on the political expectations of continuing the family’s success.” Interestingly, Julius Caesar was soon to be consecrated as a god, and Augustus therefore became known as “the son of god.” This Augustus, the son of a god, would go on to defeat all his enemies, both domestic and foreign, conquer the entire known world, and establish a long era of “peace” through overwhelming military might. Moreover, he would also be installed as “pontifex maximus”, or “high priest,” therefore solidifying his status as both ruler of the physical world and interceding for his people to the gods in the spiritual realm.

[As one example of how this was understood by the people of this time, in 9 BCE an inscription in western Turkey described Augustus this way: “Since Providence, which has ordered all things and is deeply interested in our life, has set in most perfect order by giving us Augustus, whom she filled with virtue that he might benefit humankind, sending him as a savior, both for us and for our descendants, that he might end war and arrange all things, and since he, Caesar, by his appearance (excelled even our anticipations), surpassing all previous benefactors, and not even leaving to posterity any hope of surpassing what he has done, and since the birthday of the god Augustus was the beginning of the good news/gospel/evangelion [εὐαγγέλιον] for the world that came by reason of him.” Notice how much of this language about Caesar would later be appropriated by early Christians to refer to Jesus! To call Jesus as savior and lord was to say that Caesar was not—a very controversial and dangerous claim.]

Augustus would die in about 14 CE, when Jesus was a teenager, dying at about the ninth hour of the day (the same hour Jesus would later die on the cross). Augustus’ face was the most recognized in the entire ancient world, having been copied onto millions of coins. It is very likely that the coin that Jesus held in the Temple when questioned about the matter of taxation had Caesar Augustus’ face on it. 

Denarius (Coin) Portraying Emperor Augustus | The Art Institute of Chicago
Caesar August, son of the “Divine Julius” –aka the “son of god”

 With all this in mind, it is incredibly interesting to me that in Paul’s letter to the Roman Christians, he explicitly uses the imagery of “adoption” to describe our relationship to God. In Romans 8 he writes, “The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship….Now if we are children, then we are heirs — heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his suffering in order that we may also share in his glory.” These Roman Christians would be well aware of Augustus’ adoption as a son of god, and now, Paul was using similar imagery to describe the status of Christians in relation to God! Paul was stating that in the same way that Augustus inherited his adopted father’s kingdom, with all of the rights and responsibilities, so we as Christians now inherit our adopted Father’s Kingdom! And unlike Augustus, who died and left his kingdom to others, as Christians we believe that Jesus rose again and continues to reign, as our brother and co-heir to the Kingdom of God. However unlike the peace that Rome brings, which comes through violence and domination, the peace of Christ comes through love, servanthood and suffering. Thus Romans 8 —a powerful passage even without these insights— becomes even more potent and interesting once we know the cultural and historical context. 

2. Crowned as King

In the Roman Empire, emperors were seen as quasi-gods, worthy of worship and elaborate ceremonies establishing their status and right to rule. Interestingly, the coronation ceremony for a Roman Emperor is directly adapted in the Gospel of Mark in reference to the crucifixion of Jesus. Compare the following description of a Roman emperor’s inauguration to how Mark describes Good Friday (taken from Shane Claiborne’s Jesus For President): 

A Roman Coronation

The Praetorian Guard (six thousand soldiers) gathered in the Praetorium. The would-be Caesar was brought into the middle of the gathering. 

Guards went to the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, got a purple robe, and placed it on the candidate. The candidate was also given an olive-leaf wreath made of gold and a scepter for the authority of Rome. 

Caesar was loudly acclaimed as triumphant by the Praetorian Guard. 

A procession began through the streets of Rome, led by soldiers. In the middle was Caesura. Wlalking behind him was a sacrificial bull, whose death and blood would mark Caesar’s entrance into the divine pantheon. Walking next to the bulls as a slave, who carried an axe to kill the bull. 

The procession moved to the highest hill in Rome, the Capitolene hill (“head hill.”) On this hill is the Capitoleum temple. 

The candidate stood before the temple altar and was offered, by the slave, a bowl of wine mixed with myrrh. He took as if to accept, and then gave it back. The slave also refused, and then the wine was poured out either onto the altar or onto the bull. Right after the wine was poured, the bull was killed. 

The Caesar-to-be gathered his second in command on his right hand and his third in command on his left. Then they ascended to the throne of the Capitoleum. 

The crowd acclaimed the inaugurated emperor. And for the divine seal of approval, the gods would send signs such as a flock of doves or a solar eclipse. 

VERSUS

Jesus’ Coronation in Mark

Jesus was brought to the Praetorium in Jerusalem. The whole company of soldiers (200+) was gathered there.

Soldiers brought Jesus a wreath (of thorns), a scepter (an old stick), and a purple robe.

Sarcastically, the soldiers acclaimed, mocked, and paid homage to Jesus. 

The procession began. But instead of a bull, the would-be king and god became the sacrifice, the bull. But he could not carry the instrument of death and be the sacrifice, so they stopped Simon of Cyrene and gave him the cross to carry. 

Jesus was led up to Golgotha, which means “head hill.” 

Jesus was offered wine, and he refused. Right after, it is written, “and they crucified him.”

Next came the account of those being crucified on his right and his left. The word for them —lestes—can mean terrorist or insurrectionist. 

Jesus was again acclaimed (mocked) and a divine sign confirmed God’s presence. The temple curtain ripped in two, the sky darkened, and an earthquake hit. Finally, the Roman centurion (who had undoubtedly pledged allegiance to Caesar, the other ‘son of god”), converted and sincerely acclaimed this man as the ‘son of God.” 

Once we notice these parallels, which are so similar that they have to be intentional by Mark, it gives us more insight into the significance of Jesus’ death on the cross. Some Christians only view his death as comparable to that of a sacrificial lamb, taking on sins like that of a Jewish sin offering. While that is certainly part of the metaphor, we see here that Jesus’ death on the cross is also connected to his enthronement as the son of God and ruler of the kingdom. But in contrast to the enthronement and deification of a Caesar, which was all about praising Caesar’s strength and giving honor to him, Jesus’ enthronement comes through suffering, dishonor, and weakness. Jesus’ upside-down Kingdom stands in market contrast to the Kingdom of Caesar. And similarly, if Jesus tells his followers to take up our crosses and follow him, then we must understand that our path to glory will similarly involve suffering and weakness, rather than worldly strength and domination. 

3. Jesus as the Ultimate “Trophy” 

I wrote in a previous blog post how Jesus’ death on the cross seems incredibly similar to the ancient Greek practice of erecting “trophies”, which involve placing the empty armor of one’s defeated and disarmed enemy on a tall wooden post to display to everyone. What I recently learned was how this practice was adopted by the Romans and even explicitly put in place in Jerusalem, very near to where Jesus would be crucified! Adrian Goldsworthy writes that around 20 BCE, King Herod (operating under Rome’s authority) built a massive hippodrome (amphitheater) in Jerusalem in honor of Augustus Caesar. This hippodrome was decorated with “mounted trophies commemorating his victories and listing them by name. The trophies were to the traditional Roman design, representing a post and crossbeams bearing shields and topped by a helmet, all supposedly taken from the enemy. A crowd of [Jewish] Jerusalemites mistook the shapes for crude figures of men and immediately broke into an uproar,” since it seemed to be a violation of the commandment against graven images. King Herod, eager to calm the mob, had the helmet and shields removed, showing that it was not a figure of a man at all but merely a post and crossbeam. At this the crowd was relieved and able to move on. 

Trophée des Alpes photo turbie-trophy0021_22b.jpg
The “Roman Trophy of Augustus,” built in 6 BCE near Provence, France

BUT— think about the significance of this imagery, that just a few football fields from where Jesus would be crucified, stood a massive Roman hippodrome decorated with wooden…crosses! The connection may be lost to us, but would have been very clear to the early Christians—Jesus death on the cross would have been seen as a victory for Rome and Jesus’ opponents; his beaten and bloody body nailed on a cross a visual trophy of who really had power—Caesar. But for the early Christians, it was this very death on the cross that was actually the emblem of Jesus’ power and victory, because it was there that he exhausted and overcame all the power of sin and evil, triumphing over them through his resurrection on the third day. Thus we see Christians appropriating the very symbol of Roman power and authority—the cross—and using it as an illustration of the way that Jesus conquers his enemies. But unlike Rome, which uses the cross to dominate and humiliate the opponents of Caesar, Jesus is the one who willingly chooses to be killed and humiliated—and it’s in this way that he shows his true power. Christ crucified is a “stumbling block to the Jews and foolishness to the Gentiles” (1 Corinthians 1:23), but for Christians, Jesus on the cross is the ultimate trophy of the great victory he accomplished there. While a Roman trophy is showing that the victim has been disarmed, at the cross it was Jesus who “having disarmed the powers and authorities, made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross” (Colossians 2:15). Do you see how much more potent and interesting these Bible verses become when better understand the historical context? 

There are many more examples that we could go into, of obscure Roman customs and traditions that give greater insight into the New Testament. But hopefully for now these three serve to whet your appetite, illustrating just how vital it is that Christians study history and culture—otherwise we are only scratching the surface of what the authors of the New Testament wanted us to know about Jesus. 

What Will Star Wars Mean to the Next Generation?

I recently wrote my final guest editorial for Eleven-ThirtyEight, a Star Wars blog site that I have written for a number of times in recent years (you can view my previous ETE pieces here). As ETE prepares to come to a close, I wanted to take some time to reflect on the lessons I hope my kids will learn from Star Wars. Below is my introduction, and if it seems intriguing to you I invite you to click here to read the entire piece:

“For a franchise that began almost fifty years ago when the Baby Boomers were barely adults, Star Wars remains incredibly popular. Now, as a fan who has recently become a father of two children, I have been taking some time to ponder the question of what I hope Star Wars will mean to them. While my children are still quite young—two and a half years and ten months—I’ve already enjoyed the opportunity to introduce them to some Star Wars characters via children’s books, cartoons, and kid-friendly clips from the films.

“It’s an interesting balance though, because while I love Star Wars, I don’t want to force my kids into a hobby they aren’t interested in, and because I want to be careful about what exactly they absorb from Star Wars. Besides scary images or intense themes, there are moral questions that the series raises. For example, there are fair concerns one can raise about representation (or lack thereof) in the broader Star Wars universe. Additionally, I recall a pacifist mentor of mine who deliberately kept his preteen children from watching Star Wars because it arguably portrays violence as a solution perpetrated by the good side and bad side alike. As a pacifist myself, I once wrote an ETE piece specifically reflecting on the question of violence in Star Wars, but it’s become a bit less of a hypothetical question now that I have to warn my son not to swing his toy lightsaber at me, nor to pretend to point blasters at people. 

“But even aside from these specific questions, I think it is important to be thoughtful about any movie series that is likely to be watched ad nauseam by children, for the simple reason that these films may become some of their foundational blocks of understanding. Philosopher and theologian James K. A. Smith argues that more so than our specific ideological or moral beliefs, it is the activities that we love and the habits that we practice which shape us at a foundational level. He argues that when it comes to our inner identity, it’s not so much a case of “We are what we think”, but instead “we are what we love”. 

“So if I raise my kids to love Star Wars, how am I hoping it will shape them? What are the core values that I hope it communicates to them? I have three in particular...”

Click here to keep reading!