Andrew Whitehead's American Idolatry

An exercise in Christian Sociology

When I started teaching at Olivet Nazarene in 1981, I was perusing the library one day and came across a book in the social science section on why Christians couldn’t study sociology and maintain their Christian faith. Given the supposed relativism the discipline required, Absolute Truth would be difficult to maintain. The best one could hope for was a strict compartmentalization of professional and personal spheres. In many ways, I spent my entire career working to prove those authors wrong.

Another story from the same period. When starting my Intro to Sociology class¹, I would share a little of my autobiography focusing on family issues, political issues, and national crises. I’d explain this as a way of illustrating that the vocabulary and perspective of sociology was not a foreign language to me. Rather, it was asking the questions I have been struggling with for my entire life.

These memories rose to my consciousness as I read Andrew Whitehead’s new book this past weekend. The book, American Idolatry: How Christian Nationalism Betrays the Gospel and Threatens the Church, is a wonderful blend of sociological research and perspective with a robust embrace of a traditional evangelical faith.

The book is a great companion to the earlier book, Taking America Back for God, Andrew and Sam Perry wrote in 2020. TABFG used data from the Baylor Religion Survey to conceptualize and measure Christian Nationalism (CN). Andrew and Sam may not have been the first to the plate on Christian Nationalism, but their work has been some of the most robust.

American Idolatry attempts to answer the “so what” question that is so important to all of us. How does CN diverge from the traditional Christian faith and what damage does it do? Further, how can those impacted by CN find their way back?

Andrew begins his book in his hometown church in a Northern Indiana small town. Engaged in faith and believing in something of an “evangelical worldview”, he heads off to Purdue University (BOILER UP!) where he majored in psychology and minored in sociology.² A good liberal arts History course opened his eyes to the complexity of religion and culture. He writes:

It was at this point that I began to recognize my enduring interest in the relationship between religion and culture, particularly in the United States. One year after I graduated from Purdue, I realized that I wanted to be a student forever. Off to graduate school I went with the desire to study the only thing that ever consistently captured my attention: how religious faith both influences and is influenced by culture (6).

His research and conversations with colleagues led him to understand a broader gospel that he had grown up with — one that couldn’t be compartmentalized.

After a quick definitional chapter summarizing much of the research done with Sam and others over the years (without one table!), he presents a “field guide to Christian Nationalism”. Scot McKnight wrote about the field guide this morning, so I’ll just link to that.

Andrew then turns his attention to three of the most pernicious idols of Christian Nationalism: Power, Fear, and Violence. All three are tied up in a deep sense of “us versus them”. The power is to maintain OUR position. We FEAR the others. And because we have defined the other as hopelessly evil³, VIOLENCE is acceptable to maintain the status quo.

With regard to Power, Andrew finds a solution in the Gospel narratives. Scripture is rife with passages where Jesus and the (later) disciples denounced the existing power structures without seeking to simply take their place at the top of a new one. This means a denial of power (Philippians 2: 5-11) and a legitimate concern for the other. Commitment to religious freedom is not simply a commitment to religious freedom for US. A focus on the marginalized gives us perspective on the Other. Andrew concludes the chapter with this wonderful line: “Jesus calls us to be light, not a wildfire.”

In referencing the Idol of Fear, he identifies the ways in which others are seen as a potential threat. He builds on the work of John Fea’s Believe Me and Robbie Jones’ The End of White Christian America to explore how diversity creates fear.⁴ He cites fear of racial others, immigrant others, non-Christian religious others, and secular others. While the fears can perhaps be understood, that fear is harmful in the long run.

White Christian nationalism encourages us to live as though our power and privilege are under threat. When living and acting out of a place of fear, we tend to do whatever is necessary to protect power and privilege, even jettisoning central aspects of the Christian faith. We begin to treat others the way they fear that are going to treat us⁵ — a group that limits others’ civil liberties and rights. We become what we most fear (108).

The Idol of Violence is the natural outcome of the others. Whether that is the interpersonal violence of the KKK, attitudes toward the death penalty, or feelings about the need for guns, a consistent belief is that others might do horrible things and we need to strike first. On a collective level, violence is seen as an appropriate response in militarism and attitudes toward the uprising on January 6th.⁶ Instead, the Gospels reflect a Christ that did not operate from violence (flipping the temple court tables and Mark Driscoll fantasies of Warrior Jesus in Revelation notwithstanding).

I am convinced now more than ever that the idealization of violence alongside power and fear inherent to white Christian nationalism serves only empire and results in the further marginalization of minority groups. It does not lead us to emulate the example set by Jesus. It causes us to betray the gospel (127).

Confronting these Idols doesn’t simply happen through writing books. It will require making implicit assumptions explicit. It will require deep study and reflection.⁷ But it will require more than individual action. It requires collective action.

It will take a concerted effort in our individual choices and especially at the organizational level. This is a key insight from the field of sociology. Organizations are not merely accumulations of the people making up that organization. Rather, organizations — our congregations, denominations, seminaries, and colleges — operate according to logics and rules that continue without needing the explicit support of the people living and working within them (151).

He then offers a variety of ways that organizations can become more aware of the implicit biases that often support CN. He closes the book with a consideration of what it means to “recalibrate our Christianity”. It will be hard, but small efforts are already underway. He closes the book with this line: “Sometimes, the bravest thing we have is hope.”

This quick summary of the key points of Andrew’s book brings me back to where I started this piece. It’s good sociology, analyzing Christian Nationalism and how it distorts the Gospel. It is good discipleship and suggests how Christians can shift orientation to hew more to the latter than the former. It’s a personal story above all that refuses to compartmentalize, in spite of that book in Olivet’s library.

In short, American Idolatry is the book that Russell Moore was trying to write.

1. My sympathies are with those starting class this month. I’m just really glad I’m retired.

2. I had done the same disciplines but reversed.

3. This is not only pernicious but theologically unsound.

4. Andrews reference pages look like my bookshelf.

5. He points out that Paul Djupe calls this “the inverted golden rule”

6. It was the day before the insurrection that evangelical voice Eric Metaxis punched a protestor to the delight of the evangelical powers that be.

7. There is a study guide available if you want to use the book in your church’s small group.