Over the last decade, the so-called “MAGA” movement has infected nearly every aspect of American life, including Christianity. Evangelicals, Catholics and Orthodox Christians in the United States have been forced to endure what’s been dubbed the “Bro” movement — an insecure, misogynistic ilk of podcasters and social media “influencers” who fancy themselves as “theologians” and “crusaders,” fighting a “holy war” to “save” their respective denominations from “the enemy within.”
Lest we forget that such pride caused the most beautiful of all the angels to fall from heaven. Judas Iscariot thought he was “saving” the disciples by his betrayal of Christ. Like Judas, crusaders-nouveau embrace a sort of religious nationalism.
J. Basil Dannebohm
His Eminence, Archbishop Makarios of Australia (Greek Orthodox) observed: “The one who supposedly fights to save the church has a demon within, and I tell you this responsibly. That is why you see, in their anxiety to cleanse the church, they lead people outside (push people away from) the church. Essentially, they do exactly what the devil does, even if they think that they are performing God-pleasing work. They become an instrument of the devil. The church will not be saved by us; rather, we will be saved by the church.”
Extremist influencers and their followers naively believe their agenda is the exclusive cure to the world’s latest woes. They contest that the answers to society’s problems cannot possibly be found within the church because, according to them, Christianity has been “infiltrated” by “degenerates,” “lavender mafias” and “liberals.”
This fearful, delusional, pompously pharisaical, conceited notion inevitably leads to a severely deranged sense of spirituality that, once inflamed, is nearly impossible to overcome. It’s a cancer that festers and infects the soul.
“Extremist influencers and their followers naively believe their agenda is the exclusive cure to the world’s latest woes.”
Ignatius Brianchaninov once cautioned: “The time will come when a certain sickness will spread among men. When they see someone who does not suffer from this illness, they will rise against him, saying, ‘You are the sickest, because you are not like us.’ This individual will have to be very careful of thoughts of false humility which will be set before him by the demons and people who are the weapons of the demons.”
Keyboard crusaders project a convincing facade of humility, piety and knowledge.
However, out of a fierce narcissistic hunger to feed their egos, they are neither quiet, nor disconnected long enough to authentically experience the Truth with their hearts. Rather, they busy themselves with likes, shares, subscribes, follows and the superficial admiration of an online metaverse of strangers.
Rather than confronting their shortcomings, loneliness and insecurities, hyperdox influencers insist on waging war against that which is steadfast, good and beautiful. Whether they know it or not, their crusade for what they allege is the “truth” is, in fact, a battle against the church itself — a community of wounded, imperfect sinners gathered into a spiritual hospital, under the care of the divine physician.
Recall the words of St. Isaac the Syrian who said: “Someone who has actually tasted the truth is not contentious for truth. Someone who is considered by people to be zealous for truth has not yet learnt what truth is really like; once he has truly learnt it, he will cease from zealousness on its behalf.”
The Word has no need for likes, follows, subscribes or shares, much less online crusades.
God’s Truth is heard through the heart, not the ears. You’ll hear the Almighty in the silence of prayer, not through the noise of “Bros” and other online charlatans.
Once you intimately and authentically experience God’s Truth, you’ll have no need for keyboard crusaders. St. Augustine reminded us: “The truth is like a lion; you don’t have to defend it. Let it loose and it will defend itself.”
Be still, therefore, and know that a keyboard crusade will not “save” the church.
J. Basil Dannebohm is a writer, speaker, consultant and former state legislator who divides his time between Kansas and Washington D.C.