By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist
It is hard to be surprised by anything Donald Trump says. But his statement at Charlie Kirk’s Sept. 21 memorial service that, unlike Charlie, “I hate my opponent” was striking.
First, because it was by all indications true, and truth-telling is not Trump’s strong suit. Second, because it should have been an affront to the evangelical Christians who are some of his most fervent supporters (roughly 75-80% of people identifying as evangelical Christians support Trump).
Hatred is absolutely contraindicated in the New Testament. Jesus explicitly condemns it in the fifth chapter of Matthew: “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”
Admittedly, this is a high bar. It’s one of the “hard sayings” in the Bible, the commands that are most difficult for us mortals to obey. Moments before Trump spoke, Erika Kirk crossed that bar by forgiving her husband’s murderer.
Any sensible human, and particularly any sensible Christian, would have let Mrs. Kirk’s loving statement be. Not Trump, who had to voice a (in his mind) better opinion: “That’s where I disagreed with Charlie. I hate my opponent, and I don’t want the best for them.”
For a secular person, this remark is unnerving, given Trump’s penchant for using the power of the federal government to target his enemies. For a Christian, it is abhorrent. Trump’s enablers recognized this. They knew it couldn’t be defended. JD Vance said he was “joking.” Karoline Leavitt, his press secretary, took a different tack when asked about it in the briefing room. “Look, the president is authentically himself. I think that’s why millions of Americans across the country love him and support him.”
Her first statement is arguable. Who knows who Donald Trump is? He has taken positions on both sides of many issues over his career – abortion, immigration, health care, Ukraine, cryptocurrency, Tik-Tok, etc. It would be more accurate to call him an opportunist or a shapeshifter. The next statement was the most revealing: “that’s why millions of Americans… love and support him.”
They love and support him because he hates his opponents. Trump taps into our deep-seated human capacity for hatred. That’s why the biblical call to reject it is radical – and also liberating, because hating someone is soul-shriveling drudgery. Even those who despise Trump’s policies would do well not to hate the man or his supporters. It contorts our dialogue, and therefore our society.
Conservatives and progressives alike have succumbed to the temptation to demonize and hate their opponents. Neither side is currently occupying the moral high ground.
I hold evangelicals to a higher standard since they are fellow Christians. Secular progressives don’t have a sacred book given from God. Christians, including many liberals, do. Even a casual reader of the Bible, which warns frequently of the perils of anger and revenge-seeking, should find Trump unacceptable.
I worry about how this disregard for core Christian values is affecting young people who are searching for a principled faith community. Surveys indicate that the most cited reason young people leave the church is its perceived hypocrisy. It is easy to understand how those who loudly represent themselves simultaneously as Christ followers and Trump supporters give young people whiplash.
Blinded by anger, many evangelicals have rejected the bedrock of their faith. No evangelical pastor could use Trump’s words about hate as text for a sermon except as a negative example. Nor is there much in his personal life that aligns with Christian teaching. If one were forced to include Trump in a sermon, it might be as a living example of a golden calf, which the nation of Israel built in their fear that God had abandoned them.
Many evangelicals try to defend their votes for Trump by citing his (new-found) opposition to abortion. However, in 2016, all the Republican candidates were anti-abortion. Evangelicals had a raft of devout and morally superior candidates, among them Mike Huckabee, a Baptist minister; Ted Cruz, son of a conservative preacher; Rick Santorum, a faithful Catholic; and Ben Carson, a Seventh-day Adventist. All these men spoke the language of faith more fluently and convincingly than Trump. Evangelicals’ main motivation for their vote in 2016 could not have been their faith. It was in response to his unique capability to stoke and channel anger and hatred.
In 2024, evangelicals had a near-perfect candidate, Mike Pence, who described himself as a “Bible-believing Christian,” whose public life has been scandal-free, and who saved the country from a constitutional crisis in 2020 by correctly certifying Joe Biden’s electoral victory. Apparently, Pence wasn’t angry enough, or to put it another way, he was too biblical for many evangelicals.
A version of this column appeared in the October 20th edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.




