Political theorist Stephen Wolfe’s The Case for Christian Nationalism is a wide-ranging work that traces a number of important historical and theological themes associated with the marked absence of God in contemporary American public life. He outlines the French revolutionary articulation of secularism, where any political implications of God and his will for man must be set aside. Wolfe opposes the notion that there is a high and impregnable wall between church and state whereby the government must be indifferent to the public role of religion. Contra this secular theory of the state, Wolfe draws on the writing of theologians like Johannes Althusius, Richard Baxter and Samuel Rutherford, endeavoring to set forth a Reformed Christian theory of politics, favoring the idea of a renewed Christian commonwealth. Interestingly, Wolfe essentially finds himself arguing for what amounts to a quasi-Byzantine approach to church-state relations.
Wolfe properly recognizes the historical reality that the First Amendment and the United States Constitution did not propose a radical secular outlook of the state. Contemporary progressives are totally out of step with the perspectives of the Founding Fathers. During his presidency, James Madison allowed the appropriation of federal money to spread the gospel, what he called “the light of Christianity,” among the American Indians. George Washington, in his Farewell Address, stated that the “indispensable supports” of “political prosperity” are “religion and morality.” The context of his speech indicates that his use of the term religion was, in fact, a reference to Christianity. He went on to say that the politician ought to “respect and cherish” morality as well as the religion upon which it is based. Justice Joseph Story (1779–1845) in his Commentaries on the Constitution of the United States affirmed that when the Constitution was adopted it was a universal sentiment in America that “Christianity ought to receive encouragement from the state.” The idea that the state should be indifferent to whether Christianity prospered or not would have been met with “universal indignation.”
Wolfe prefers the Founding Fathers’ commitment to an informal establishment in church-state relations rather than Justice Hugo Black’s (1886–1971) insistence that the state must be neutral toward the Christian religion. Wolfe prefers the political model provided in the 1620 Mayflower Compact – the foundational legal document of the Pilgrims in New Plymouth. The Mayflower Compact is, in his judgment, an authentic expression of Christian nationalism. The forty-one signatories, likely drafted by William Brewster, regarded themselves as a Christian people within a political community “for the glory of God and the advancement of the Christian Faith.” The people would establish civil authority and “just and equal laws” unto which the community promised “all due submission and obedience.” The civil body politic established by the Mayflower Compact was for the “better ordering and preservation” of the people. Indeed, the political community in New Plymouth intended both the earthly and heavenly good of the inhabitants.
The author hails the Christian society established in New Plymouth, but also seeks to go beyond what the Pilgrims established in the seventeenth century. Although not a proponent of “caesaropapism” (300), his presentation shows significant continuity with a Byzantine perspective on church and state. Two emperors, Constantine and Justinian, exemplify some of the specifics of the Byzantine model. In a letter to Caecilian, Bishop of Carthage, Constantine announced that he had been pleased to provide “some subsidy” to “certain specified ministers of the legitimate and most holy Catholic religion.” In his letter to Elpidius, he promoted the sabbath principle of the moral law declaring, “All judges, city-people and craftsmen shall rest on the venerable day of the Sun.” Justinian in Codex I.5.18, stated that his “chief and first object” of his “most urgent consideration” for his people was “how their souls may be saved.” He would take “vigorous measures” to eliminate “various heresies” throughout the empire and would not allow heretics to “summon a public assembly for irreligious and contemptible discourse and practice.” The emperor according to Novella 6 would give attention to “the true doctrines of God and the integrity of priests.” Both Constantine and Justinian funded the building of churches in the empire.
Wolfe’s exposition of Christian nationalism sets forth quasi-Byzantine perspectives. “Civil authorities,” he contends, can take action with respect to “the funding of church construction; ministerial and seminary financial support; the suppression of public blasphemy, heresy, and impious profanation; obliging Sabbath observance; and other things” (182). “The Christian prince” has a significant “relationship with the instituted church. He should procure what is necessary for the pure worship of God.” “If the ministry degrades, he should reform it. He should correct the lazy and erring pastor.” “He should protect the church from heretics and disturbers of ecclesiastical peace” (312). The Christian prince “has the power to call synods in order to resolve doctrinal conflicts and to moderate the proceedings. Following the proceedings, he can confirm or deny their theological judgments; and in confirming them, they become the settled doctrine of the land” (313). On the question as to whether or not Christians ought to worship in the same way, Wolfe affirms that “the magistrate ought to strive within the limits of his power to achieve uniformity” (315–16). “Political governments,” he maintains, “can suppress false religion, establish a church, even require people to attend church” (475).
The vision that Wolfe sets forth emphasizes the central role of the Christian prince. “I cannot conceive of a true renewal of Christian commonwealths,” he states, “without great men leading their people to it” (278). The prince is to be “a vicar of God” (286). “He inspires noble action, sacrifice, and common affection, and he casts a vision for national greatness.” He promotes “moral liberty.” “He loves and enacts justice. He worships God and calls his people to do the same.” “He fights foreign aggressors, sacrificing himself for his people’s good, and he establishes peace with other nations. In a word, he ought to be a great man—the hero of the people” (288).
Wolfe is to be commended for calling attention to our dire moral condition. He expresses the sense that many Christians have about the present state of affairs: “The United States, as a whole, is lost” (474). Pilgrims and Puritans in the seventeenth century thought the same about England. They thus came to New England with the intention of setting up Christian commonwealths. Wolfe essentially stands in the same tradition. He states, “We should organize and support Christian political visions for towns, counties, and states” (474).
Some words of caution, though, should be added in response to his discussion. We should, in the first place, be realistic about pinning our hopes on the prospect of a great Christian prince arising who will lead our nation in the path of righteousness. The biblical history of the kings of Judah and Israel point in a different direction. Almost all of their kings were rebels against God. We do well to remember the observations of Martin Luther in his treatise On Secular Authority. “You should know,” said Luther, “that a prudent prince has been a rare bird in the world since the beginning of time, and a just prince an even rarer one. As a rule, princes are the greatest fools or the worst criminals on earth, and the worst is always to be expected, and little good hoped for, from them, especially in what regards God and the salvation of souls.” Christian realism will guard us from thinking that a great Christian prince will arise who will fix all our problems. We need to place our hope in Christ the Prince and the establishment of his Eschatological Kingdom (Micah 4:1–4).
We should not, in the second place, jettison the advances made by Abraham Kuyper in Reformed political theory. A movement toward a quasi-Byzantine church-state structure may at first glance appear to be the best option for a crumbling political and social order. Kuyper, though, would warn us that the church’s attempt “to curry the emperor’s favor” in the fourth century was an “enormous mistake.” The reason is that “the mighty state, no matter how much it appeared to be her servant, was in truth her master” (Rooted and Grounded, 27). When the state becomes the master over the religious lives of the people, the inalienable right of liberty of conscience disappears.
Do we really want to surrender the right which “enables every man to serve God according to his own conviction and the dictates of his own heart”? (Lectures on Calvinism, 109). We have seen the problems that arise when a state seeks to enforce religious uniformity. The dictates of Charles I and William Laud led to the English Civil War, and the mandates of Charles II led to the incarceration of men like John Bunyan who, in good conscience, could not assent to everything in the Book of Common Prayer. Oliver Cromwell provides a better example for unity among believers without the need for uniformity in the outward aspects of public religion. Kuyper properly noted that the church in its maturity and growth in theological sophistication will tend to reflect differences of opinion regarding the interpretation of certain aspects of the biblical revelation. The government, he said, ought to “suspend its own judgment and to consider the multiform complex of all these denominations as the totality of the manifestation of the Church of Christ on earth” (Lectures on Calvinism, 105).
The Case for Christian Nationalism is a provocative work. One does not need to agree with every position and argument in order to appreciate Wolfe’s endeavor to set forth an older model of church-state relations. This is a volume that needs to be taken into consideration in contemporary discussions on Reformed political theory.