The memorial service for Charlie Kirk took place this Sunday; chances are the only things you know about it are that Erika Kirk gave a graceful, heartfelt speech; Tucker Carlson blew a dogwhistle; and President Trump joked-not-joked that he genuinely hates his political opponents. I watched the entire event, and it struck me as a pivotal moment that will impact American politics for decades to come.
And I am terrified — not primarily by the dangers of Christian nationalism itself (though those are real), but by the likelihood that well-meaning people in the Jewish community are going to bungle their response to it and to the political juggernaut that has burst onto the scene.
Most Jews don’t understand what is taking shape in Christian America. They fear it, conflate its diverse voices and want to denounce it with great moral force, as if that will somehow make it all go away. They think that if they call it “White Christian Nationalism,” condemn every comment Charlie Kirk ever made (real, fake or distorted), and label the entire movement irredeemably racist, then kind-hearted Americans will push back at it. But none of that will happen, will it?
Dan Williams, a philosopher at the University of Sussex, well expressed such confusion:
“Watching the Charlie Kirk memorial, I’m struck by how extremely culturally distant I feel from this world. Everything about it feels alien — the aesthetics, symbolism, music, rituals, mythology, gurus, ideas and norms. It feels like being exposed to the cultural and symbolic universe of a distant tribe.”
Humility is a good starting place for American Jews. Rabbis, communal leaders, philanthropists, Jewish professionals — I beg you: hit the pause button. Put aside the old Jewish advocacy playbook, just for a moment. Listen. Read. Engage with people who truly come from a different cultural and spiritual universe than your own.
If you watched the memorial service closely, you could hear four distinct voices:
Erika Kirk
Erika Kirk spoke with composure and grace. She thanked supporters for their prayers, reflected on her marriage, framed Charlie’s death in Christian terms and emphasized hope in eternal life. Crucially, she publicly forgave Tyler Robinson — the 22-year-old man accused of killing her husband. She said, “That young man, I forgive him,” invoking Jesus’ words: “On the cross, our Savior said, ‘Father, forgive them for they not know what they do.’” She also said: “My husband, Charlie, he wanted to save young men just like the one who took his life.” “The answer to hate,” she said, “is not hate. The answer we know from the gospel is love and always love. Love for our enemies and love for those who persecute us.”
Jack Posobiec
Jack Posobiec, a controversial far-right commentator and longtime Kirk ally, leaned heavily into spiritual warfare rhetoric. He likened Charlie Kirk to Moses, saying he “brought us to the promised land,” and argued that the activist’s killing will save “Western civilization” by “returning the people to Almighty God.” He urged the crowd to engage in “spiritual warfare” on Kirk’s behalf and to “put on the full armor of God.” Our very own Stephen Miller, deputy chief of staff to the President, sounded a similarly combative note. In the days to come, will we hear more of Erika Kirk’s forgiveness or Jack Posobiec’s retributive politics?
JD Vance
Vice President JD Vance delivered a confession of sorts — a rare admission of how private his faith has often been. He said: “I always felt a little uncomfortable talking about my faith in public. As much as I love the Lord, and as much as it was an important part of my life, I have talked more about Jesus Christ in the past two weeks than I have my entire time in public life.” His words undoubtedly presage a renewed Christian pride and accompanying public professions of faith.
Tucker Carlson
Tucker Carlson, unsurprisingly, played the role of provocateur. His remarks ridiculed “the hummus-eating people” who, in his telling, mocked traditional Christian faith. He pivoted to the crucifixion, charging that the death of Jesus had been “a deliberate act” by those who hated God’s truth, implying that Charlie Kirk was the victim of the same. The dogwhistles were unmistakable. His voice, too, represents a small but growing segment of the Christian right.
All of these disparate voices were present on Sunday, and will compete for influence within the Christian national movement and for the hearts and minds of Americans.
Here’s my advice to Jewish leaders:
Don’t lump them all together. Some are conciliatory and respect our democratic values, others do not. Some we can work with, others we cannot. Instead, study up on the various branches and schools of thought. Go on a listening tour and talk to the key voices in the movement. Who are the Erika Kirks within the movement and how can we strengthen our ties to them?
Don’t engage in “offense archeology” and dig up and denounce every problematic statement from Christian figures. Those days of keeping problematic voices on the margins are over. You will only isolate yourself and the Jewish community, not the intended target of your moral condemnation. Instead, try to understand the entirety of their philosophies and approaches to politics, and then decide whether we should get to know them or keep them at arm’s length.
Don’t slam their public professions of faith, even if they make you uncomfortable. A public figure has every right to share their faith, as long as they don’t deploy the coercive power of the state. Instead, welcome their voices of faith. They are filling the moral vacuum that has set into our society. Jewish leaders should add their own professions of faith to the mix of public voices.
We are in for a major shift in American politics. Now is the time to understand it, not condemn it and ourselves to the margins.
David Bernstein is the Founder and CEO of the North American Values Institute (NAVI).
