Opinion
Given Christianity’s sordid history when it comes to antisemitism, we have a responsibility to reaffirm our commitment to combating antisemitism. But we must be vigilant to resist the lie that this commitment requires our silence on Palestine or Palestinian human rights. As journalist Peter Beinart told Sojourners in April, there is a “sense of guilt and anxiety that exists about Christian antisemitism,” and it “is leveraged sometimes by pro-Israel leaders … It’s much easier to level accusations of antisemitism than to actually have an honest conversation about how you justify a system that the country’s own human rights organizations are calling apartheid.”
The way to address antisemitic violence is not, as our current and previous administrations have suggested, by silencing Palestinians or those advocating for a free Palestine.
I was researching an article I was writing for Sojourners recently when I noticed something odd: The AI Overview answer that was being generated kept shifting, even though my search query did not.
For those not familiar with Google’s relatively new AI Overview technology, AI Overviews are AI-generated summaries that appear at the top of Google search results pages for certain queries. According to Google, AI Overviews use generative AI to provide quick, easy-to-read answers to Google searches by compiling information from multiple sources, including web pages, news articles, and Google’s Knowledge Graph.
The verse that radicalized me will be a familiar one to Sojourners readers. It can be found in Matthew 25: “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”
“Radicalization” is a popular topic. When I say I have been radicalized, I don’t mean that I’ve been shaped by a rigid set of beliefs that draws hard lines between who’s in and who’s out. I mean that I’ve been transformed by the teachings of Jesus, which challenge me to practice a radical form of love for others.
I don’t believe that government regulation and intervention is the answer to every problem.
I also have no problem acknowledging — and condemning — instances where our government has created policies that prioritize corporate profits over the health of the American people. For example, thanks to the efforts of agricultural lobbyists, the government continues to subsidize corn and wheat, thereby incentivizing their use in cheap, ultra-processed foods that are linked to worse health outcomes. The opioid crisis is another complex and particularly tragic example of government prioritizing powerful corporate interests over Americans’ health.
Some of these same themes recently appeared in “Make America Healthy Again,” a new report led by Robert F. Kennedy Jr., President Donald Trump’s secretary of Health and Human Services. But while I share a healthy skepticism about corporate influence on federal health care policy, I am alarmed to see vaccine skepticism and outright anti-vaccine attitudes enshrined at the highest levels of government, especially within entities responsible for overseeing public health. And I’m especially grieved to see how bad Christian theology and warped notions of religious freedom are used to fuel that skepticism and its deadly consequences.
On July 7, the IRS made waves when it reversed its longstanding guidance that churches must avoid partisan speech under the Johnson Amendment of the U.S. tax code.
What does this new IRS guidance mean for political engagement among progressive churches?
When Democratic Socialist Zohran Mamdani defeated Andrew Cuomo in New York City’s mayoral primary, the political establishment didn’t quite know what to do.
Headlines described Mamdani’s win as “stunning,” “electrifying,” an “upset,” and even a “miracle.” Right-wing critics responded with predictable vitriol, labeling Mamdani a “communist,” “terrorist,” and a “little Muhammad.” These attacks were aimed both at his politics and his identity as an Indian American, a Muslim, and a socialist.
But what was most remarkable about Mamdani’s successful campaign wasn’t necessarily Mamdani himself. Rather, it was the working-class support behind his campaign that captured people’s attention.
On Monday, the Department of Homeland Security shared a propaganda video on the social media site X.
The one-minute video opens with footage of helicopters taking off, and a man with a thick Southern accent says, “Here’s a Bible verse I think about sometimes. Many times.” As people in military fatigues don masks and ready weapons inside the helicopter, the man quotes Isaiah 6:8: “I heard the voice of the Lord, saying: ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’”
Everyone loves the story of Jonah and the whale. It’s got it all: drama, danger, whales — or at least “a big fish” as any Bible nerd will point out. And a tidy little lesson at the end about the importance of obeying God.
But the story’s post-whale coda is where things get really interesting. After Jonah finally reaches Nineveh — albeit by a very roundabout route — he obeys God’s command to call the city to repentance. Mission accomplished, he finds a spot outside the city walls with a good view, settles in, and waits for God to smite them. He’s hoping for fire and brimstone and is disappointed when none come. God spares the Ninevites.
When I talk to clergy in my circles, morale is low. It seems like each day brings another new low in the American experiment. One pastor I spoke with said, “I can go to protests, but what is the point? The people in power don’t care, and it doesn’t change anything.”
That got me thinking: What is the point of protest? For me, at least, participating in protests is about living in alignment with my values and bringing the considerable privilege that religious leaders have to bear on unjust situations.
In 2002, director Danny Boyle and screenwriter Alex Garland released a post-apocalyptic horror movie that would redefine the zombie genre forever. 28 Days Later was not only ambitious for its experimental cinematography and reliance on relatively obscure actors, but also because of its critical commentary on violence and militarism. Boyle and Garland have partnered up again for the newest installment in the 28 Days Later film series, with the release 28 Years Later (now playing in theaters).
There’s nothing wrong with a gross and scary zombie movie that just stops there, but the 28 Days Later film series offers more than jump scares and blood-barfing, fast-moving zombies, which are called “infected” in the films.
In Washington, a new piece of legislation glides forward on patriotic branding and moral ambition. The One Big Beautiful Bill Act, as it’s called, promises economic growth, national renewal, and family empowerment. But beneath the shimmering language of prosperity lies a troubling philosophy — one that recasts the U.S. citizen as a market participant above all else and reshapes public policy into a liturgy for the god of the economy.
Several sections of the bill emphasize that a person’s economic output should be what determines their worth and the benefits they receive for living in the United States. Food assistance under SNAP is now contingent on proving one’s usefulness in the workforce, and access to Medicaid is framed as a reward for monthly productivity. Colleges are penalized based on their graduates’ loan repayment rates, reducing education to a measure of economic return, while student aid is calculated not by need but by the expected value of a student’s future earnings. Even newborns are cast as future market participants, with state-seeded “Trump Accounts” designed to train them in contribution and market value from infancy. These provisions redefine public goods not as a matter of justice or care, but as a transactional reward for economic performance.
If it’s not obvious: I genuinely enjoy celebrating July Fourth. Yet I know that many Americans — including Christians who share my commitment to social justice — have a far more complicated relationship with the holiday. And I get that reluctance. So often, celebrating Independence Day is wrapped in a weaponized, politicized form of patriotism which allows no room for critiquing the real harms and contradictions of our nation. But I think it’s a mistake for us to cede patriotism to those who turn it into a poisonous blend of nationalism and ethnocentrism, fixated on blood and soil and fueled by fear of “the other.”
New York City Comptroller Brad Lander was arrested by masked Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents on June 17. At a lower Manhattan courtroom, Lander and his staff were attempting to escort a migrant after his court hearing. Seen repeatedly asking ICE agents to produce a judicial warrant, and asserting that they couldn’t arrest an American citizen, Lander was roughly detained and later released, the most recent in a string of Democratic politicians arrested by federal authorities.
We also need to be clear: Iran did not possess a nuclear weapon. Iran was enriching uranium needed for such a weapon and had recently increased its production, but intelligence assessments concluded they had not made a final decision to produce a bomb. In fact, the assessment said Iran would be more likely to produce a weapon if the U.S. attacked its uranium supply.
Corporations are jamming AI into every platform we use. Like it or not, it’s clearly here to stay. But we can fight back the mass possession of AI demons. By learning how AI works and why it has such a hold on us, we can start to see through its demonic facade. But that’s not enough by itself. To bust these ghosts for good, we need to think bigger and find collective ways — like trade unions — to take control of our work and thinking.
During the first week of June, aggressive Immigration and Customs Enforcement raids in and around Los Angeles sparked protests. To quell these protests, President Donald Trump deployed the National Guard and the Marines to the city. The federal escalation seems intentionally frightening; editor at large and founder of The 19th Errin Haines described the situation as a “public and excessive show of force …[as] a means of reinforcing control.” As the situation continues, we can anticipate further conflicts over control of the military and other shocking acts like the aggressive removal and detainment of Sen. Alex Padilla (D-Calif.), who was removed from Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem’s press conference on June 12 while peacefully attempting to ask questions.
I live in LA, and I think what is happening in our city is also happening across the country.
This week, the staff at Sojourners will have some well-deserved additional time off as we pause on Thursday to observe Juneteenth. I want to share why we do this — and why I hope other American Christians will join us in honoring this day as part of our shared call to justice.
It would be impossible for me to overstate the profound impact that Brueggemann had on justice-oriented Christians. Not only did he write more than 100 influential books of theology and biblical criticism over the course of his long career, he also wrote dozens of articles for Sojourners. There are very few theologians I can think of who taught me as much as Brueggemann did about how to read the Bible and what a deepened understanding of scripture reveals about God’s heart for justice and our ability to imagine a world beyond empire.
Walking down a road paved with churches, I approach a large building whose bright orange awning beckons me from down the block. The establishment, Sea Town Fish & Meat Market, is staffed by neighborly workers who call me bebecita when I ask them to weigh my tilapia and salmon. I am there on yet another Friday morning to pick up fresh fish for one of my Lenten devotions: eating fish on Fridays.
Over a grainy international phone call, I could hear people singing at St. Peter’s Square as I spoke with BBC journalist Mark Lowen about Pope Francis. It was April 21, and I, along with two other queer Catholic advocates, Max Kuzma and Simon Fung, were reflecting on what Francis had meant for each of us and our hopes for the future of the Catholic Church.