Macrorrezo in Washington: "God uses Trump to bring Christ back to this country"

WashingtonFrom afar, the kilometer-long line surrounding the National Mall's lawn looks like that of a 2024 campaign rally. Red caps with the slogan "Make America Great Again" among American flags. Many of the styles recall the existence of rural America in the capital of ties and polished shoes. The only nuance is the name screen-printed on most t-shirts: references to Trump have today been displaced by those of Jesus. An evangelist pastor walks up and down the line shouting "Hallelujah!" at the top of his lungs to those who are still a bit sleepy. People like Kelly, who comes from Richmond (Virginia), got up at four in the morning to be able to participate in the macro-prayer called by the White House this Sunday.

to pursue alleged "anti-Christian" biasThe messianic rhetoric, the Bibles edited by the magnate, and the photographs with evangelical leaders translate into real and concrete actions on the ground. During this year and a half, the Republican has created an office of faith, which has its office within the West Wing of the White House; he has promoted a "commission for religious freedom," which is basically composed of conservative Christians; and he has signed an executive order to pursue alleged "anti-Christian" bias. According to the government website, today's religious day is part of the events to commemorate the 250th anniversary of the U.S. independence. In this case, the objective is to "consecrate our country as one nation before God." Hence, the official name is "Rededicate 250" (Reconsagrar 250).

Show of force

The image of thousands of people praying on the National Mall esplanade is once again an exhibition of the strength of conservative Christianity, which has been gaining ground within the president's inner circle. The administration does not say it explicitly, but it does not hide its communion with white Christian nationalism either. Of the fifteen spiritual leaders who have participated, fourteen are Christian and the other, an Orthodox rabbi. Furthermore, of the fourteen Christians, seven are evangelicals.

But the headliners are not the pastors, but the Secretary of Defense, Pete Hegseth, the Speaker of the House of Representatives, Mike Johnson, and the actor Jonathan Roumie, known for playing Jesus in the series The Chosen. "I'm really looking forward to hearing Roumie speak, I loved his role in the series," comments Ethan, who is 20 years old and has come from Canada. Despite living on the other side of the border, the messianic church he follows is in Minnesota. It is there that he met Simon and Henry, two brothers aged fifteen and eighteen respectively, who have also come with him. They have driven seventeen hours from their home to be here today.

Simon, who is wearing a MAGA hat, says he is also particularly excited to see Hegseth. The three young men believe that thanks to this administration, being Christian is no longer seen as "negative," and the two brothers declare themselves fans of the president. However, their smiles turn into grimaces of disgust when I mention the meme that Trump published on Truth Social in which he depicted himself as Jesus. "It was a big mistake. I don't think he did it with bad intentions, and besides, he later deleted it. Even so, I still think he's a great leader," replies Simon, who defends the importance of this new administration for "reviving" Christianity.

The idea of a Christian "revival" is repeated constantly in each of the conversations. In any case, none of the dozen people interviewed by this correspondent claim to have recently converted to Christianity. On the contrary, they have been active in their faith for years and come from religious backgrounds. Matthew D. Taylor, a researcher specializing in white Christian nationalism, explained a few weeks ago to ARA that this feeling of religious revival is an illusion behind which lies a process of radicalizationof people who were already Christian.

The logic with which Simon evaluates Trump also aligns with Kelly's, who downplays how the magnate behaves in his private life. "What he does in his personal life doesn't affect us; we're interested in what he's doing for the country, which is what affects us later. Besides, as Christians, we know we're imperfect individuals, him included. But he's restoring faith, something other administrations haven't done," the woman defends. This logic of seeing Trump as a means to a higher end is repeated in many of the people in line.

Martin Nolan, a 42-year-old Baptist Christian, also values the Republican from this pragmatic perspective. "It's not that I love everything he does, but we're here to pray and that's what matters." The man is in charge of the youth group at his church. The boys are dressed in jeans and polos; the girls wear a kind of cap to cover their hair and 19th-century dresses. They are all between fifteen and twenty years old, but it is Nolan who approaches to answer questions. When I question one of the girls, the young woman limits herself to responding with monosyllables and a shy smile. Nolan explains that the girls wear their heads covered because "there's a part of the Bible that says so."