On 7.26.2026, I gave a sermon before the congregation of the Unitarian Universalist Church of New Orleans, with the subject matter I chose being “Joy as resistance to Christian nationalism.”
After the sermon, quite a few of the congregants came up to me and told me how much my words meant to them. I took that to heart, and figured if they got something from it, maybe you would, too.
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I’m very happy to be here, in part because I actually got married here at Rayne Memorial. And now I’m here to talk about something that is a threat to everyone in this room and people of all belief systems: Christian nationalism.
But I gotta be real with y’all and say I struggled to write this sermon; I didn’t want to bum anyone out. I say that because I’m a journalist, and I’ve kinda gained a reputation amongst people who read my work as someone who writes about really bleak things. So when I sat down to write about what I could actually convey to a congregation, I knew one thing: I wanted my sermon to act as a warning, but I knew I couldn’t leave anyone feeling hopeless and maybe even fearful.
I decided to flip the topic on its head, and talk about joy as resistance.
Fear is natural when you see on the news that our neighbors are being rounded up or that the marginalized are losing rights. But the only way to defeat forces of hate and chaos is to push through that fear, and also, show joy in the face of it.
Before I get to the joy part, allow me to put on my journalist hat for a moment and talk very briefly about the history of Christian Nationalism, and what it means, as well as why it is relevant to the moment we’re all witnessing. Most Americans don’t know what that term is; but we’ve all seen it.
Look at the footage of January 6th and amongst the rioters you’ll see religious iconography and people kneeling in prayer. The Proud Boys, a hate group, even led prayer marches. People held flags saying Jesus is my savior, Trump is my president. But we need to rewind much further back to the 1950s, when the Supreme Court handed down the Brown v Board of Education ruling that stated that school segregation was unconstitutional. That shook the white evangelical world to its core.
After the ruling, Evangelical leaders gave sermons from their pulpits about how God mandated segregation. Flash forward, and in the 1960s you have Black people marching in the streets, sexual liberation is around the corner, and you have college students protesting the vietnam war. If you’re a white evangelical at this time this scares you. But, you have the comfort of knowing that you’re far away from it all. Your community and most importantly, your children, would never be impacted by it or “indoctrinated” by what you saw as “crazy godless leftists.”
That’s until the 1970s and the Nixon administration comes along and tells you that your religious institutions must finally desegregate or lose tax exemptions. And that, my friends, is what started it all. Not the Roe v Wade ruling, which provided the constitutional right to abortion in 1973. In fact, many protestants were either fine with or neutral on abortion, and conservative evangelical faith leaders wouldn’t give their first anti-abortion sermons until 1979, six years after Roe. No, what started it all was an aim to keep Black students out of their institutions of worship.
But in the late 1970s, a catholic extremist and Republican Party activist named Paul Weyrich told the faith leaders to stop harping on race and to instead start preaching about the need to bring an end to abortion. He told them to tell their congregants that they needed to get into the political process, because it was mandated by God. This mobilized believers all across the country to the tune of millions to become activists, and with the help of money from religious oil tycoons in Louisiana, Texas, and Oklahoma, they built a loose network of organizations, and would eventually see that the only way to take power of the nation is to take the government—believing that God called them to do so.
Some of these same activists and evangelical leaders got access to the Reagan white house, and over time they became more entrenched in the fabric of our nation, and church institutions all across the country. White evangelical leaders used their television shows and radio shows and pulpits to spread political propaganda through the years, slowly radicalizing congregants against not only abortion, but immigrants and gay people and more. Leaders began preaching to their now politically radicalized congregants that our nation was always meant to only be a christian nation, with the undertones always being a white christian nation.
Those congregants became militant protestors and voters who launched the political careers of people with their worldview, and in the 2016 election, President Trump won the evangelical vote by a landslide. Flash forward again, and now you have cabinet members forcing their religious beliefs upon their government employees, abortion bans, attacks on trans rights, and you have the DHS posting explicitly white christian nationalist propaganda on official gov sites. The department of defense actually even removed dozens of religions from their list of recognized religions, including Unitarian Universalism. In Louisiana, we’ve seen the Ten Commandments erected in schools and activists attempting to ban books in public libraries; specifically books that talk about the queer experience. And it all started decades ago with the fact that the government tried to force very powerful men to let Black people in their institutions, those men said no, and now, here we are.
I just want to say I glossed over a lot of historical context to paint this picture but one thing I don’t want to gloss over is that Christian nationalism isn’t christianity.
It’s an ideology that believes that their version of what a christian is should be at the helm of government, and laws should mirror their interpretation of the christian bible. They don’t believe in democracy for all, and elected leaders with this worldview have said as such. I could go on and on, but above all else, as a quote I once read in a manifesto from the 90s or 80s said, “it is dominion that we are after. Not just a voice. It is dominion we are after. Not just influence. It is dominion we are after. Not just equal time. It is dominion we are after. World conquest… we must never settle for anything less.”
But, something else they want outside of dominion, is for us to feel fear and hopelessness. Fear and hopelessness leads to nihilism, which leads to inaction. But of it all, I ask you not to let them see you afraid, and join in the fight for liberation of all faiths: Muslim, Jewish, Unitarian Universalists, and more. But in addition, I ask that you don’t let them take your joy.
Joy is a radical emotion. It has always been a target of authoritarians and hateful people. The Nazis banned jewish music, China under Chairman Mao banned Beethoven. The USSR banned the music of Tina Turner and others. Dancing and even public singing has been banned through history under various regimes, and that’s because art can spark joy and joy is propulsive and sustains unrest, and counters and contrasts the control of oppressive structures and dark times in a non-violent way. In short, Joy sustains activism.
A queer writer who lived through the AIDs epidemic once said, “we buried our friends in the morning, we protested in the afternoon, and we danced all night. The dance kept us in the fight.”
I’m sure there are many people in this room who feel deep compassion for others, and I’m sure when you look at the world through the 24 hour news cycle, you sometimes feel like you’re the only person who feels empathy. I’m sure if you’re a migrant or queer that you feel that the world is against you, and if you are a believer in something like climate change, I’m sure you feel like the world is ending. But joy creates community, and reminds you that you aren’t alone.
A couple of months ago, a Guardian article stated New Orleans was doomed from climate change, and that citizens should all pack our bags and leave. In response, some locals threw a block party and they danced and rebuked the notion they should flee their homes and just give up. They all joined together in song and dance, and told one another that we will get through this together. In Portland during the early days of the mass deportation operations, protestors dressed in inflatable suits and danced in the streets outside of the detention facility where migrants were kept. As armed men stood in front of them, guns in hands and batons and more, the protestors laughed and danced to techno music.
When the nation of Hungary last year banned queer pride displays and parades, millions of people of all orientations marched in the streets, some with smiles on their faces, waving pride flags and reminding Hungary President Orban that their queer brethren weren’t going anywhere and that they were not alone. This in turn showed others that they were all still in the fight for a better Hungary, and Orban is now no longer in power.
Joy allows for collective processing of grief in the wake of tragedy. After the murders of Renee good in Minnesota, protestors grieved her murder, then there was a brass band in public, and they all sang together and smiled to keep from crying; they danced away the pain and healed along with their community.
Joy allows you to reclaim your own humanity. In Auschwitz, a prisoner traded bread in order to make a makeshift menorah for hanukkah. Holocaust survivor and author Elie Wiesel remembered asking the man, “Hanukkah in Auschwitz?” The man responded, “especially in Auschwitz.”
Joy allows you to envision a better future, because without joy you can only view a world where the pain and harm never ends, and that is not the case. The arc of human history bends towards progress, mainly when we bend it ourselves, and the things we thought would never end always come to an end. Whether it be Apartheid South Africa, or the American Southern Confederacy, power structures built on hate do not last.
On that last point, never forget that enslavers during chattel slavery thought that their system of oppression would continue well past them, and it didn’t. It crumbled and fell apart, because hate is a brittle, weak emotion. Abolitionist and women’s rights advocate Sojourner Truth, born in around 1797 to enslaved parents, once said, “If we laugh and sing a little as we fight the good fight, it makes it all go easier.” If a woman born into those conditions could see the need for joy, there’s no reason none of us in this room should be able to do the same.
The examples can go on and on, but I just want to emphasize here that I’m not saying to make yourself numb to the realities of the world. I’m asking you to join organizations fighting the good fight. I’m asking you to march, protest, refuse to become desensitized to the fact that people are being unjustly detained and deported. Write your representatives, and hoop and holler to make your voice heard. If you’re a person of the Christian faith who doesn’t align with Christian nationalist worldview, show your faith through acts of kindness, rebuke this ideology in your house of worship or prayer groups, and don’t allow these people to paint this nation as inherently cruel under a distorted version of God.
I ask you all to recognize the threat in front of us, but I also want you to dance; sing; make time for things that make you happy. Continue to go to your houses of worship and sing hymns that speak to you. If you’re politically engaged, don’t be afraid to take time for yourself and grab a nice meal or commune with nature and take in the beauty of the world. Take time to do the things you enjoy; don’t let anyone or anything strip you of your humanity. Make community, and never let despair shackle you in place, and most importantly, I ask that you never forget to feel joy. Joy is the only way we will get through this together, and is an essential tool for change.
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(Thanks for reading, and P.s.; sign up for the Big Easy Press newsletter to know when my next book, coming in 2027, is dropping)
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