Christian nationalism’s legacy of hate

For three years, from the ages of 13 to 15, I attended an evangelical Christian summer camp in Wears Valley, Tennessee. Billed as an adventure camp (it included activities such as archery and river tubing), this was the first place where I was exposed to an ideology that would later become known as “Trumpism.”

In this week-long camp, our days began and ended with heavily politicized sermons. The head pastor preached to campers — many as young as seven or eight years old — on the hellfire and damnation that awaited gays, Catholics, Jews and Muslims.

It was common for these sermons to veer into parables on the dangers of immigration and migrants, the passive nature and submissiveness of women, or the impending “holy war” that awaited our generation. Each sermon was delivered so as to scare young and easily impressionable children into fearing their fellow Americans.

Between these sermons, our activities further reinforced a culture of militancy and hate. As we were taught how to shoot guns and use bows and arrows, older campers and counselors joked with younger campers that their target was “Obama” or an imaginary and racialized foreign enemy.

Meanwhile, high school campers were told that, with the exception of Christian colleges like Liberty University, higher education was dangerous, run by “Marxists” and was antithetical to American values. Worse yet, in small breakout groups, campers sat around and shared racist or homophobic jokes they had learned from their parents.

Mostly white and affluent campers were taught a dangerous and un-Christ-like gospel. Poverty, as I keenly remember one counselor telling me, was a sin of individual laziness and ineptitude. The Jesus ingrained in our minds was rugged, hyper-masculine and white — a far cry from the meek and charitable figure portrayed in Scripture.

These activities, this discourse and the culture surrounding the camp (which was also a private school) groomed generations of Christian nationalists who now proselytize antidemocratic ideals.

My story is not unique. Evangelical summer camps, as well as a network of private schools, weeknight programs and even sports leagues, are run with the explicit intent of molding the next generation of retrogressive Christian leadership.

In some respects, I feel sympathy for my fellow former campers who lacked the parental support systems to help them break free from this cycle of hate and cultural isolation. Thankfully, my own parents were quick to point out the dangerous theology underpinning this camp and others like it once its true nature was brought to their attention.

Unfortunately, the damage has been done. Across the nation, Christian nationalism has placed both vulnerable communities and individuals at risk. Moreover, its effects have trickled down through our society, feeding distrust in public and higher education, stoking criticisms of learned experts and reanimating discriminatory discourses.

During the past two years, pundits and politicians on the right have repeatedly attacked teachers, LGBTQ+ citizens and even drag queens for “grooming” American children. This false narrative bemoans how a dangerously “woke” agenda is being taught to our children — putting them at a perceived risk of abuse, a loss of identity, or worse, radicalization.

Now, living through another election cycle of culture wars rhetoric, I am struck by the relevance of those lyrics from Woody Guthrie’s 1940 song “Jesus Christ”:

If Jesus was to preach what He preached in Galilee,

They would lay poor Jesus in His grave.

Looking back at my experiences in evangelical circles, I wonder if the Jesus who was known for defending the disinherited and marginalized would be welcomed by the churches today? Or would he be chastised as a groomer of “wokeness”?