A memorial for Charlie Kirk outside the US embassy in Berlin.Adam Berry/Getty
On Sunday, a crowd of 80,000 people—plus scores more watching online—memorialized Charlie Kirk. The event, held at a State Farm Stadium, home to the NFL’s Arizona Cardinals, brought together the biggest names in Christian music while also featuring a predictable lineup of MAGA loyalists. There were declarations that Donald Trump was chosen by God himself to punish evildoers, capped off with a rousing speech by Trump himself that seethed in hatred for his political opponents. The event was bizarre—unless you’re acquainted with the liturgy and theology of Christian nationalism.
In many ways, this was one of Christian nationalism’s biggest and loudest days. It was clear that in Kirk, this movement had found its icon—an exemplar of their brand of nationalistic faith. In life, Kirk tried to set himself apart from the movement that’s come to define his legacy. “I’ve never described myself as a Christian nationalist,” he said during one campus debate months before his assassination. “I’m a Christian, and I’m a nationalist.” But it’s a distinction without a difference. Kirk followed his own rebuttal by citing scripture to justify a faith-infused nationalism. The memorial of his life followed a similar pattern; gesturing at scripture, and dripping in the nationalistic fervor that’s come to define modern conservative politics.
There was a sermon by Pastor Rob McCoy, which culminated in a call for people to accept Jesus as their personal savior. But what followed wasn’t a moment of solemn, lingering, prayer. Instead, the crowd was called to stand for the national anthem.
In this video, I point out how this is the Christian nationalist hallmark: fusing the sacred and the secular, where praise and partisanship become strange bedfellows.
Watch:
