by R R Reno, First Things
Pastors, pundits, and politicians gathered in Phoenix last Sunday to remember Charlie Kirk. Seventy thousand people filled every seat of State Farm Stadium. Thousands more overflowed into the streets nearby. It was described as one of the largest memorial services for a private citizen. But it was much more than that. The nearly five-hour-long service marked a milestone in America’s journey into the twenty-first century.
As someone who lived through the later decades of the twentieth century, the most shocking element was the frank, heartfelt, and powerful Christian witness, expressed many times from the podium. In a certain way, that witness made sense. Charlie Kirk was a firmly convinced Christian who often talked about his faith at public events. It is to be expected that his friends—his colleagues at Turning Point and his pastor—would highlight Christ’s presence in his life.
But they weren’t the only ones to invoke faith. The secretary of state ended his speech with an extended elaboration of the Nicene Creed. The secretary of war asserted, “Only Christ is King, our Lord and Savior.” The vice president: “Charlie brought the truth that Jesus Christ was the King of Kings.” I cannot begin to picture Gerald Ford or Cyrus Vance uttering such unvarnished affirmations, nor Dick Cheney or Donald Rumsfeld.
The patriotic enthusiasm was as prominent as the displays of faith, and they often fused together. The crowd chanted “U.S.A., U.S.A.!” to warm up Chris Tomlin, a Christian singer, whose performance of “How Great Is Our God” was prefaced with a reading of the first chapter of the Gospel of John. And partisan themes were sounded, which, again, is not surprising, given Kirk’s role in our national politics, and this, again, ran side by side with Christian themes.
Some of my friends rued the mix of patriotism, politics, and faith. I understand their concerns. We should guard against the conscription of the authority of God to serve the interests of men.
But my reaction was otherwise. Richard John Neuhaus, founder of First Things, never wavered in his call for religion to influence, leaven, and purify public life. To do so, it must be present, part of the conversation, part of the great tumult of political debate, part of our civic life. We should not be surprised that religion in public life is a messy business. It takes place outside seminar rooms and lecture halls where fine distinctions can be made and careful applications elaborated.