My pastor recently asked me if I had read Stephen Wolfe’s book, The Case for Christian Nationalism (Canon Press, 2022; 475 pages, $24.99). I assume that he asked because of my book, I Pledge Allegiance (Eerdmans, 2018), where I not only criticize all forms of nationalism but strongly condemn Christian nationalism, in particular.
Dr. Wolfe’s book was sitting untouched on my bookcase. So, I returned home from my conversation with my pastor determined to read a volume that seemed to be “making the rounds” in certain circles.
Sparked by the January 6th assault on the US Congress, decorated as it was with Christian imagery like a large wooden cross and handmade signs declaring “Jesus Saves,” there has been a recent flurry of books about Christian nationalism.
Some are for it. Some are against it.
Wolfe is very much in favor of overhauling America in order to make Christianity the national religion, the norm for public behavior and civic engagement, thus producing a thoroughly “Christian nation.”
Let me begin by putting my cards on the table: this book has so many serious problems, it made my head hurt to read more than short snippets at a time. A thorough review would require more space that I can give to it here, so I will focus my attention on Wolfe’s methodology and his consequent justification for viewing nationalism, especially Christian nationalism, as God’s plan for humanity.
A major part of the problem with The Case for Christian Nationalism arises from the fact that the author does not see its problems as a problem. In fact, he almost immediately dismisses any challenges to his approach as irrelevant or misplaced.
From the outset, Wolfe immunizes himself against any scripturally-based criticism by announcing that he “make(s) little effort to exegete biblical text (sic)” (16). Confessing that he is “neither a theologian nor a biblical scholar” with “no training in moving from scriptural interpretation to theological articulation,” Wolfe instead is content to draw from the work of 16th and 17th century, “very Thomistic” Reformed scholars such as John Calvin, Francis Turretin, and the English Puritans, trusting that their theologies have already told us everything we need to know about the New Testament, Christian theology and their intersection with political theory.
Consequently, Wolfe’s method also excludes any engagement with alternative political theologies and traditions. He regularly refers to “the” (Reformed) Christian tradition as if alternatives such as the Anabaptist heritage, an important political/theological strain that differs radically from that of his Reformed icons, never existed. Thus, Wolfe not only immunizes himself against any biblical analysis but also from any divergent theological debate, as well.
It all makes for a safe way to write an extremely odd book.
Having established his presuppositional background, Wolfe then proceeds along the lines of natural theology, building on “a foundation of natural principles” (18); a predictably scholastic move. Finding natural, universal, theological principles in our world today means that Wolfe sees substantial lines of behavioral and structural continuity between the contemporary world of human affairs, on the one hand, and the human situation prior to Adam and Eve’s Fall into sin in Genesis 3, on the other.
Hypothesizing backwards, from the way things are today to the way things would have been had sin never entered creation, Wolfe constructs his own imaginary picture of human development. He fantasizes about human society dividing itself as different family groups migrated, separated, and moved apart from each other. Different linguistic dialects would have evolved, creating numerous, distinct communities increasingly distinguished from each other by geography, language, and cultural evolution.
“It follows,” Wolfe declares, “that Adam’s progeny would have formed many nations on earth, and thus the formation of nations is part of God’s design and intention for man (emphasis mine). . . the formation of nations is not a product of the fall; it is natural to man as man. . . The instinct to live within one’s ‘tribe’ or one’s own people is neither a product of the fall nor extinguished by grace; rather, it is natural and good” (22-23).
Notice how the imaginary elements of Wolfe’s theoretical, pre-Fall reconstruction are elevated to the status of God’s original design and intention for humanity. Tribalism is not an unfortunate expression of human divisiveness, antagonism, competition, or prejudice. Rather, it is “natural and good,” according to Wolfe. More on this in a moment.
This is a very old line of political argument following the dictates of natural theology. It is an important feature of the Dutch Kuyperian theological tradition that prevails, for instance, at Calvin University, the place where I used to teach. I have encountered it many times. But before we decide to join in with this Reformed theological mind-game, let’s be sure we understand the kind of game we are being asked to play.
For, remember, it is a fictitious game that makes up its own rules, leading to highly questionable results. Looking at “natural” human behavior today, Wolfe assumes a wide swath of unbroken continuity. He assumes that the contemporary modes of behavior we witness now would be equally natural and good for perfected humanity as originally designed by the Creator. In fact, it is the very behavior God originally intended! Thus, “the natural inclination to dwell among similar people is good and necessary (emphasis mine). Grace does not destroy or ‘critique’ it” (24).
In other words, God’s grace would never work to overcome segregation, the separation of the races, class divisions, or ethnic antagonism? Really? Wolfe can try to sugar-coat his whole-hearted embrace of divisive tribalism all he wants, but no amount of hemming or hawing will hide the fact that he offers a far-reaching theological hypothesis that opens a very wide door to the worst sorts of prejudice and discrimination.
Wolfe also leaves us wondering how he happens to know these things? He obviously assumes that we will share his faith in the power of fallen human reason rightly to discern the divinely ordained, robust continuity between the way things are and the way things would have been.
However, I, for one, cannot share his faith . . . or his naivete. For the fact is that Wolfe does not, because he cannot, know any of these things.
He is making it all up on the fly.
And he is making it up while perching precariously on two erroneous assumptions. We’ve touched on them already, but let’s make them explicit: one, he assumes that his fallen human mind can accurately discern God’s original intent for humanity by observing human behavior today; and two, he assumes that he does not need to read scripture for himself; the Reformed scholastics have already done all the necessary work for him.
Of course, this is all standard fare for those who embrace natural theology and theological scholasticism. It also illustrates why I have always rejected both.
Now, let’s try a different thought experiment – and unlike Wolfe, I will not posit any divine authority or normativity to my “mind game.” I offer it merely as a hypothetical alternative scenario.
Let’s dial down the continuity switch on our imaginary thought experiment and turn up the discontinuity dial as we compare the way things are today with respect to the way things might have been before sin entered the world.
Perhaps human beings would have recognized that they were inextricably bound together by the image of God, the distinguishing component of humanity which they all held in common. Perhaps, they would have invested deliberate energy – or perhaps it would have come naturally without any special effort at all – in maintaining loving, hospitable connections, no matter how widely their different family groups ranged across the planet. Maybe they would have wanted to maintain their common language in order to secure tight lines of communication, mutual understanding and trust, no matter the physical distance between them. New discoveries and developments would be shared so that everyone enjoyed the benefits equally, and no one could slip into isolation. As a result, nationalism would never develop. In fact, it would be antithetical to the Creator’s intentions.
I could go on, but you get the picture.
There are no logical or theological reasons to prefer Wolfe’s reconstruction over mine. On the contrary, I would argue that the biblical doctrine of original sin demands a much greater emphasis on behavioral discontinuity than Wolfe’s reconstruction allows.
More than that, aside from the fact that I would prefer to live in my pre-Fall creation than in his, Wolfe’s reconstruction (for biblical reasons that Wolfe prefers to ignore and that I cannot go into here) strikes me as the least likely of all pre-Fall worlds. I cannot help but conclude that Wolfe employs natural theology to sanctify human sinfulness when he should be using biblical theology to critique our sinfulness while holding out the ideals of God’s redemption.
The fact that The Case for Christian Nationalism contains chapters that seriously defend both the “great man” theory of government (chapter seven) – what he calls “a measured and theocratic Caesarism” – and the legitimacy of violent revolution (chapter eight) provides further evidence of how far astray a rationalistic, naturalistic theology can wander when it deliberately severs itself from biblical constraints.
The many Anabaptist martyrs who died at the hands of Reformed, theocratic Caesars shout a loud, uniform condemnation of Wolfe’s brand of theocratic nationalism. It should never be resurrected.
And I pray that God, and liberal democracy, will save us from all those, like Dr. Wolfe, who disagree.
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