The silence of Christian Nationalism on Matthew 25:35 - 45
Famous bible passage absent from white Christian nationalist teachings
This piece originated on Voices4Democracy’s Substack page
This is the third in Voices4Democracy’s short series on white Christian nationalism. Rev. David Greene, a local Indianapolis pastor, shares his thoughts on the oft-noted silence of the white evangelical Christian nationalist movement regarding one of the Bible’s most famous passage, Matthew Chapter 25, Verses 31 - 40. (Literally - you can do online searches of “White Christian nationalism’s silence on Matthew 25 and get detailed explanations. At the core, is a white Christian nationalist belief in dominionism: true believers should have dominion over the earth and its inhabitants. Prosperity is a sign of blessing; poverty is a sign of its absence.)
Rev. Greene shares perspective here.
There is something deeply revealing about what people choose to quote from the Bible and what they refuse to mention.
In this moment of rising white Christian nationalism across America and here in Indiana, we hear constant appeals to “biblical values,” “Christian America,” and “religious freedom.” Certain verses are repeatedly used to justify harsh public policy, exclusion, nationalism, and fear.
Yet one of the clearest teachings of Jesus is strangely absent from the conversation:
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in”
Matthew 25 is not vague theology. It is not symbolic abstraction. It is Jesus plainly defining what faithfulness looks like.
Feed the hungry.
Welcome the stranger.
Care for the sick.
Visit the imprisoned.
Clothe the naked.
And perhaps most importantly, Jesus identifies Himself with the vulnerable:
“Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40 NIV).
That is why the silence around Matthew 25 is so loud.
For Black Christians, this conversation is not theoretical. We have lived through generations where Christianity was used both as a tool of liberation and as a weapon of oppression.
Our ancestors were enslaved while enslavers quoted Scripture. Segregationists sat in churches on Sunday while denying Black people dignity on Monday. During the Civil Rights Movement, many of the loudest defenders of “Christian America” opposed Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., opposed voting rights, opposed integration, and opposed justice itself.
The Black church survived because it held tightly to the Jesus of Matthew 25.
A Jesus who stands with the oppressed.
A Jesus who hears the cries of the poor.
A Jesus who welcomes the stranger.
A Jesus who lifts the burdened rather than protecting the powerful.
That is why many Black Christians recognize white Christian nationalism so clearly. We have seen this spirit before. It wraps prejudice in patriotism and injustice in religious language. It speaks of “law and order” while ignoring inequity. It demands biblical obedience from the marginalized while excusing cruelty from the powerful.
But the Gospel preached in the Black church has always declared that faith without justice is empty.
Our spirituals, our prayers, our preaching, and our marching all flowed from the belief that God stands with those whom society pushes aside. Matthew 25 was not simply something we read; it was something we lived.
White Christian nationalism attempts to merge Christianity with political power, nationalism, racial hierarchy, and cultural control. But Jesus never commanded His followers to seize power over others. He commanded us to serve others.
“Jesus did not say: “I was a citizen and you protected my borders.” He said:
“I was a stranger and you welcomed me.”
Jesus did not say: “I was successful and you admired me.” He said: “I was hungry and you fed me.”
Jesus did not say: “I was powerful and you honored me.” He said: “I was imprisoned and you visited me.””
That is the Gospel.
The danger of Christian nationalism is not simply political. It is spiritual. It creates a version of Christianity that honors flags more than faithfulness, power more than compassion, and fear more than love.
When that happens, the church stops looking like Jesus.
“As Christians, we must ask ourselves an uncomfortable but necessary question: “Why are some so passionate about the parts of Scripture dealing with control, judgment, and exclusion, but so silent about the chapter where Jesus explicitly tells us how He will judge the nations?”
Matthew 25 reminds us that following Jesus is not proven by slogans, party affiliation, or cultural dominance. It is proven by how we treat “the least of these.”
The church does not need more nationalism dressed up as faith. We need more Jesus!
