A Teaching on the Idolatry of the Nation

My Beloved in Christ,

Grace and peace be with you. I write to you not from the comfort of a quiet study, but from a heart that feels the deep spiritual and social fractures of our time. The air we breathe is thick with the dust of contention, and the ground we walk on is scorched by the fires of hatred. Our nation stands at a crossroads, not just a political one, but a spiritual one, a moment of profound crisis and a moment of divine opportunity. For in our history, the darkest hours have often been the fertile soil from which God has brought forth new life and a more profound witness to the Gospel.

As you know, my official statement last week was brief, but it was born from a deep ache for a world that has lost its way. I said this:

“The news of Charlie Kirk's passing has come across my desk. While we pray for him, we cannot forget his words and actions. We do not find them simply difficult, but abhorrent. His vision of society stood in direct opposition to everything we believe about justice, mercy, and the boundless love of God for all people. And in this moment, his own moral calculus, the idea that some losses, some deaths, might be a justifiable price for a certain kind of freedom, is brought into sharp and tragic focus. Our faith teaches us that no death is a cost to be paid. Every life is a sacrament, a gift with immeasurable worth. We are called to stand for the sanctity of each human being. Today, as his life ends in violence, a life spent defending a position that accepted violence as a price, we are faced with this paradox. We pray not with judgment, but with a deep ache for a world where no one's life is counted as a cost, and where all are held in the immeasurable worth of God's love. We pray for him. We pray for his family, who are mourning a man they loved. We pray for us all.”

The word I offered last week was born from the immediate ache of a bishop’s heart, a first lament for a life that ended in tragedy. Yet the work of our Church is not only to lament. It is to respond with prophetic clarity. Our collective responsibility now is to move from a position of reaction to one of holy action, of theological integrity. This violence, no matter how shocking, is not an anomaly. It is a chilling symptom of a spiritual disease that has been actively cultivated in our culture, an inevitable result when a people are taught to see their neighbors as threats. The profound paradox we confront today is a spiritual one, where an individual's life can be both a victim of violence and a perpetuator of the rhetoric that makes violence possible. We are called to more than a simple prayer for peace; we are called to be a living prayer for justice, actively building God's peace through our shared witness.

A pastoral letter, an teaching of the heart, must now expand upon this truth. But a pastoral letter is not a platitude. It is a word of truth spoken from a wounded heart, and the truth is this: while Charlie Kirk was a victim of this brokenness, he was also a principal architect and promulgator of it. For years, he and those like him built a movement on a theology of contempt, a false gospel that has poisoned the American public square. They have taken the sacred name of Christ and used it as a political weapon, turning it against the vulnerable, the marginalized, and the very people our Lord came to serve. This is not the voice of the Shepherd. This is the voice of the world, speaking with the accent of the Church. It is a heresy of our age, a profound act of idolatry that worships power and nationalism, all while kneeling at the feet of a false god.

The violence that took his life is the bitter fruit of a poisonous tree. When a people are taught to see their neighbors as threats, when they are fed a steady diet of dehumanizing rhetoric, and when their fears are weaponized for political gain, this is what grows. We must be unflinching in our assessment. We cannot claim Christ as our Lord while we participate in the systems that breed hatred. To do so is a spiritual betrayal of the highest order.

Our faith tradition, the Convergent Catholic tradition, stands as a living witness to a different way. We are a people who believe that the story of God is too wide, too deep, and too beautiful to be contained by narrow boundaries or partisan divisions. Our ethos is a blend of Eastern and Western Christian wisdom, drawing from the deep wells of ancient tradition while remaining radically open to the Spirit's present work in a diverse world. Our liturgical life and our constitutional commitments are not just formalities. They are the scaffolding upon which we build a better world.

This is why our constitution explicitly calls for a gender inclusive liturgy. It is why we practice shared authority between laity and clergy. These are not political statements. They are theological ones. They are living declarations that the Reign of God is a place of boundless grace, not guarded by walls but by open arms.

In our commitment to this holistic vision of the Gospel, we are guided by core principles that find resonance in both ancient Catholic Social Teaching and the liberating theologies that have emerged from the struggle of the oppressed. This is not a moment for quiet contemplation in the face of injustice. It is a time for sacramental action, for a liturgy after the liturgy. Our faith demands that we act. It commands us to respond.

On the Heresy of "Christian" Nationalism: A Spiritual Sickness and Modern Idolatry

Let us be clear about the nature of the poison that has entered our body politic and our spiritual life. The ideology of "Christian" nationalism is not a minor deviation from the faith. It is a full fledged heresy, a modern day idolatry that perverts the Gospel and betrays the very nature of God. It is an idol made from the clay of national pride, the rhetoric of exclusion, and the worship of a particular political vision. This idol demands our absolute allegiance and tells us that our salvation lies not in the grace of Christ, but in the power of a specific political order.

This is a direct violation of the First Commandment. When we place the nation, or any earthly power, above the God of all creation, we have committed idolatry. The God of the Bible is a God who transcends all nations. He is the Lord of history, the one who brings down the mighty from their thrones and lifts up the lowly. The Christ of the Gospels stood in solidarity with the oppressed and challenged the imperial power of Rome. He did not come to build a political realm in this world but to establish a spiritual one that subverts all worldly powers and claims a loyalty that is absolute. To conflate the Reign of God with any earthly nation is a theological error of the most profound consequence. It turns a living, breathing faith into a stagnant, political tool.

This false faith is also a rejection of the core Christian principle of universal love. It preaches a tribal gospel, one that draws narrow circles around those who belong and casts out all who do not fit. It labels the immigrant an invader, the queer person a threat, and the poor a burden. This stands in direct opposition to Christ's command to love our neighbor and our enemy. Our Lord's final prayer was for unity among his followers. This false gospel is a prayer for division. It cultivates a spirit of hostility that leads inevitably to violence, both rhetorical and physical. It is a spiritual disease that consumes the soul, replacing the fruit of the Spirit with the fruit of contempt.

Furthermore, this heresy perverts Scripture itself. It takes a book of liberation and turns it into a handbook for oppression. It ignores the prophetic call for justice found throughout the Old Testament and the radical teachings of Jesus found in the Gospels. It conveniently skips over passages where Jesus speaks of welcoming the stranger and caring for the "least of these." It takes a book that says God has no favorites and turns it into a justification for a preferred national identity. We must reclaim our sacred texts from these manipulators and read them again with fresh eyes, seeing them for what they are: a testament to God's love for all people, especially the broken and the marginalized. We cannot, as faithful Christians, divorce the message of salvation from the message of social justice. They are two sides of the same coin.

This false faith is also fundamentally anti-sacramental. Sacramental theology teaches us that God’s grace is present in the material world, in the lives of ordinary people, and in the acts of our everyday lives. It teaches us that Christ is found in the breaking of the bread and the pouring of the wine, but also in the face of the poor, the queer, the immigrant, and the suffering. A gospel of contempt, however, denies the sacredness of the other. It looks upon the unhoused person, the immigrant, or the trans person and sees a problem, not a sacrament. It sees a threat, not the face of Christ. This is a profound spiritual failure.

And so, we must be clear. The violence that took Charlie Kirk's life is a tragic but logical conclusion of the hatred he promoted. He helped build a fire that ultimately consumed him. Our lament must be for the human life lost, but our prophetic call must be for the tearing down of the false idol that made his death possible.

Our Theological Foundation: The Convergent Catholic Way

In the face of this spiritual and social sickness, we find our strength and our purpose in our own theological foundation. The Convergent Catholic Communion is not a quiet harbor from the storm. It is a prophetic ark, built to weather the tempest and to carry a living witness to a world in need of healing.

Our theology of wholeness is a direct response to the fracturing of the world. We believe that God's grace is not confined to one tradition or one expression of faith. It is found in the deep wells of Eastern Orthodoxy, in the contemplative spirituality of the West, and in the fiery passion of Pentecostalism. We seek to bring these diverse streams of faith together in a way that creates a single, more powerful river. This is what it means to be convergent. It means we are a people who believe that the truth of God is so vast that it can be found in many places and many traditions. This spirit of radical openness and theological humility stands in stark contrast to the rigid, exclusive dogmas of a false faith.

Our constitutional commitment to shared authority and synodality is a practical and powerful expression of this theology. We reject the hierarchical models that concentrate power in the hands of a few. Instead, we believe that the Holy Spirit speaks through the entire Body of Christ. This means that the voices of the laity, of women, of queer people, and of the marginalized are not just to be tolerated. They are to be actively sought out, listened to, and given a place of honor at the table of discernment. Our church governance is not a reflection of a worldly political system; it is a prophetic sign of the Reign of God, a place where all are heard and all are valued.

Furthermore, our entire liturgical life is a sacramental vision of reality. We believe that in the Sacraments, the invisible grace of God becomes visible. But this does not stop at the altar. Our baptismal vows call us to be the hands and feet of Christ in the world. Our Eucharist, which is the very source and summit of our faith, sends us out to be Christ to one another. The "liturgy after the liturgy" is not a separate ministry; it is the natural consequence of our worship. We take the love we have received from God and we pour it out onto the world, seeking to make every act a sacrament of Christ's presence.

This is the foundation from which we, as a community of faith, must now act. It is a time for more than just prayer; it is a time for sacramental action that takes our worship from the altar to the streets. It is time for the liturgy after the liturgy to begin.

The Work of a People of Peace and Justice

The Gospel does not give us the luxury of quiet contemplation in the face of injustice. It compels us to respond. This response is not a political choice; it is a theological one, rooted in the very nature of God as revealed in Christ. The prophetic tradition of our faith, from the thundering words of Isaiah and Amos to the fierce love of Jesus, teaches us that orthodoxy without orthopraxy is incomplete. We cannot claim to believe rightly if we do not live rightly. We must now become what we claim to be.

I call you to four pillars of embodied action, four ways in which we will be the living body of Christ in a world that is desperately in need of healing.

I. A Ministry of Radical Welcome and an Open Communion

Our first and most fundamental response to a world built on exclusion is to build a Church founded on a radical and uncompromising welcome. This is not optional. It is the very essence of our faith. To be truly catholic is to be a home for all, a sanctuary of grace where there are no outsiders. Our communion table is open to all baptized Christians who seek to live in peace with God and neighbor, regardless of their background, orientation, or status. This aligns with the principle of the preferential option for the marginalized, a cornerstone of Catholic social teaching that reminds us that God's grace is always first for the poor, the outcast, and the oppressed.

Open Doors, Open Hearts: Your parish must be a place where the unhoused find warmth, where the refugee finds sanctuary, and where the LGBTQ+ person finds a spiritual home without having to justify their existence. As our "Guidance for Gender Inclusive Terminology" reminds us, we must use language that affirms the sacred identity of every person, for each is made in the image of God. This is not about being "woke." It is about being a people who truly believe that the God who created the universe is not limited by our human categories.

Hospitality as a Discipline: Hospitality is not just a gesture; it is a spiritual practice. Make it your discipline to seek out the one who is alone, to invite the stranger to your table, and to listen to the stories of those whose voices have been silenced. This radical hospitality is a prophetic act, a living sign that the love of God is wider than the walls of any human-made institution.

II. A Ministry of Embodied Presence: Building Bridges, Not Walls

Our world is a torrent of digital noise designed to isolate and inflame. The antidote is not more noise, but presence. The Incarnation tells us that God is a God who chooses to be physically present in our messy, broken world. In the face of digital disembodiment, we are called to a ministry of presence.

Show Up. Be present in your communities. Attend local meetings, volunteer at a shelter, or simply be a listening ear for your neighbor. Our faith is not meant to be practiced in isolation. It is meant to be lived out in the streets, in the coffee shops, and in the places where people genuinely struggle.

Engage in Dialogue, Not Debate. The current political climate is addicted to the sterile violence of debate. We are called to something different: genuine dialogue. Dialogue seeks to understand, not to win. It is a humble practice that requires us to put down our weapons of rhetoric and truly hear the heart of the other. It is in this vulnerable space that healing and transformation can begin.

Witness to a Different Way. Your presence in a divided world is itself a form of prophetic witness. By choosing to be gentle in your speech, by responding to anger with peace, and by choosing grace over vengeance, you are living out the Sermon on the Mount in a way that is more powerful than any political slogan.

III. The Pursuit of Justice: Confronting Systems of Oppression

The peace we seek is not a fragile truce. It is a robust, living peace that is founded on justice. The prophets of the Old Testament and the teachings of Jesus are clear: there can be no true peace without justice. To stand by and do nothing in the face of injustice is to be complicit in the systems that perpetuate it. Our Lord's own ministry was a constant confrontation with the unjust powers of his day, both religious and political. This is our model.

Our pursuit of justice must be a multi-faceted work:

• Economic Justice. The Gospel is a radical critique of a world that allows some to live in obscene luxury while others suffer in poverty. We must advocate for living wages, for healthcare for all, and for an economic system that values human dignity over corporate profit. The cries of the poor and the marginalized are the cries of Christ himself, and we must respond to them with both charity and systemic change.

  
  

• Racial Justice. The sin of racism is woven into the very fabric of our nation. We must not be afraid to confront this truth, to dismantle white supremacy in our own hearts and in our own communities, and to stand in solidarity with our siblings of color. This is not a political issue; it is a spiritual one. The Cross of Christ is a sign of God's solidarity with all who suffer under the weight of injustice.

  
  

• Environmental Justice. The cries of the poor are often a result of the destruction of the earth. We are called to be stewards of creation, to care for our planet, and to advocate for policies that protect our shared home and the most vulnerable among us from the ravages of climate change. Our faith traditions remind us that the earth is not a commodity to be exploited but a gift to be cherished.

This work will not be easy. It will demand courage, and it will demand that we align our priorities not with the world, but with the Reign of God. It will mean speaking truth to power, even when our voice shakes.

IV. The Spiritual Disciplines of Resilience: Fuel for the Journey

The fight for peace and justice is a long and wearying one. It will drain you. You will be tempted to give up. This is why our final, and perhaps most important, call to action is to root ourselves in spiritual practices that will sustain us. This work is impossible without a deep and abiding spiritual life. To be a person of action, you must also be a person of prayer.

Anchor Yourself in the Sacraments. The Eucharist is our source of strength, the very food that sustains us for this difficult work. Make regular participation in the sacramental life of the Church a priority. It is here that we are healed and renewed for the journey ahead. In the waters of Baptism, we remember our call to a new life. In Reconciliation, we find the strength to start anew.

Practice Contemplative Prayer. Find moments of stillness each day to listen for the voice of the Holy Spirit. In the midst of the world’s chaos, contemplation is a revolutionary act that centers us in the peace of Christ. It is from this quiet center that we can then act with clarity and compassion.

Commune with the Saints. Remember that you are not alone. You belong to a great cloud of witnesses, a family that includes prophets, martyrs, and everyday saints who struggled for justice and love. Draw strength from their stories and their prayers. We are part of a larger story, one that spans generations of faithful people who chose love over hate, and justice over oppression.

Embrace Community. We are not meant to do this work alone. We are the Body of Christ. Gather with your community for worship, for fellowship, and for service. Lean on one another in times of weariness and celebrate with one another in moments of victory. Our strength is in our unity, our shared purpose, and our love for one another.

This is our path, beloved. It is a path of humility and boldness, of rootedness and risk, of prayer and action. We are a people who have been wounded by the Church but healed by Christ, and we are called now to be a source of healing and reconciliation for a world that is desperately in need of it. Our mission is to build bridges, not walls, and to live as a prophetic witness to the true, liberating Gospel of Christ.

Let us walk forth, not in our own strength, but in the power of the Holy Spirit. Let us mourn for the dead, but let us also rise to combat the hatred that consumes the living.

In Christ, who is our peace and our hope,

✠ Metropolitan John Gregory

Primus of the Convergent Catholic Communion