Why Christianity Must Be Anti-Fascist

This is Father Jared Cramer from St. John’s Episcopal Church in Grand Haven, Michigan, here with today’s edition of Christian Mythbusters, a regular segment I offer to counter some common misconceptions about the Christian faith. In a moment when our society seems increasingly fractured—when fear, violence, and the abuse of power dominate political discourse—many Christians are asking a deeper question: What is the role of the Church when political authority itself becomes a threat to human dignity? Today I want to be very clear: the Church cannot remain silent, neutral, or “above it all” when actions and ideologies take on the shape of authoritarianism or fascism. This is not about partisan politics. This is about faithful Christian witness. And in moments like these, neutrality is not a moral option. So let’s start with the basics: what is fascism? Fascism is a political ideology marked by authoritarian control, suppression of dissent, hyper-nationalism, and the elevation of state power over human rights and human dignity. It thrives on fear and depends on dehumanizing “others”—immigrants, minorities, political opponents—portraying them as threats that must be controlled, removed, or eliminated. Violence is not a tragic failure of fascism; it is one of its tools. And that alone should tell Christians everything we need to know. This is not merely a policy disagreement. Fascism directly contradicts the Gospel’s insistence that every human being bears the image of God and that no authority stands above God’s justice. When the state claims ultimate loyalty, demands silence, or treats some lives as disposable, Christians are no longer dealing with politics as usual—we are dealing with idolatry. Many, myself included, see echoes of these dynamics today in how government power is exercised against vulnerable communities—at the border, in our cities, and in the language used to justify force. The recent killing of a U.S. citizen by an ICE agent in Minneapolis has sparked national outrage precisely because it reveals how easily state violence can be normalized. And the fact that we are outraged now, despite the over 30 people who have already been killed by ICE agents demonstrates how we have become numb to this problem. Video evidence from multiple angles made it clear that this woman posed no threat. The last thing she said to the agent was “That’s fine, dude, I’m not made at you.” Then she turned her wheel to leave and the agent shot her in the head and called her words I will not say out loud. Government officials rushed to justify lethal force, insisting we had not seen what we all clearly saw. As George Orwell wrote in the novel 1984, “The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.” Make no mistake, this is how authoritarian and fascist systems train societies to accept the unacceptable. In response, some church leaders have refused to stay silent. An Episcopal bishop in New Hampshire recently told clergy that statements alone are no longer enough—that this is a time for bodily presence, moral risk, and real sacrifice. He urged them to be prepared not just spiritually, but practically, to stand with those most at risk, telling the it was time to make their wills. That is not extremism. That is Christian realism. Why does this matter theologically? Because silence in the face of injustice is not neutrality—it is complicity. Throughout Scripture, God consistently sides with the oppressed, the stranger, and the vulnerable. The prophets did not politely “disagree” with unjust rulers; they confronted them. Jesus did not accommodate violent systems; he exposed them, disrupted them, and ultimately he was executed by one of them. When Jesus overturned the tables in the Temple, he wasn’t making a partisan statement—he was declaring that worship divorced from justice is a lie. Likewise, a Church that refuses to oppose systems that dehumanize is no longer bearing witness to Christ; it is protecting its own comfort. History confirms this truth. From the early Christians who defied imperial worship, to figures like Dietrich Bonhoeffer resisting Nazis Germany, the Church has repeatedly faced the same question: Will you follow Christ—or will you accommodate power? Every time the Church has chosen safety over faithfulness, the results have been disastrous. So what does faithful action look like now? It begins with prayer and formation—but it cannot end there. It requires public witness, moral clarity, and courageous nonviolent resistance. It means showing up, naming injustice, protecting the vulnerable, and refusing to allow fear to dictate our faith. It also means loving our enemies—not by enabling harm, but by refusing to let hatred have the final word… and by working as hard as we can to rescue them from the fascist ideologies that have taken them captive. Too often, Christians confuse moral witness with political disagreement. But the Gospel does not ask us to be neutral observers of injustice. It commands us to act when human dignity is at stake. And make no mistake: that is what is at stake now. Thanks for being with me. To find out more about my parish, you can go to sjegh.com. Until next time, remember: protest like Jesus, love recklessly, and live your faith out in a community that accepts you but also challenges you to be better tomorrow than you are today