Leaps of faith

ROCK HILL, S.C.—Moments before Donald Trump regaled a crowd of 6,000 supporters at the Winthrop University sports arena in Rock Hill, S.C., on Jan. 8, an enthusiastic pastor bounded to the podium.

“I’m going to pray because we are electing a president by the name of Donald Trump who believes in the name of Jesus Christ,” shouted Mark Burns, a televangelist and pastor of the Harvest Praise and Worship Center in Easley, S.C. “And afterwards, we’re going to let the whole world know that they messed with the wrong country.”

The crowd roared.

Outside the arena, scores of supporters still waited in long lines to pass through metal detectors manned by Secret Service agents and local police. A handful of protesters stood on a nearby street corner, holding homemade signs: “Trump the Chump.” “Slimy Sexist.” “Morally Bankrupt.”

Such charges didn’t seem to bother the crowds cradling buckets of popcorn and cheering Burns’ opening prayer. When a veteran led the audience in the Pledge of Allegiance, he added at the end: “That’s for Trump.”

As the lights dimmed, a scoreboard overhead showed video clips of Trump in front of huge crowds, as a recording of Italian opera singer Luciano Pavarotti’s voice soared in the background. Trump said his campaign had “morphed into a beautiful package. The package is called you, but maybe it’s in the form of me.”

He also promised: “You’re going to be so proud, and you’re going to be so happy, and we’re going to win so much.”

In other words: Name it and claim it.

Trump’s effusive rally was not unusual in a campaign season marked by a religious-style fervor in both parties and by attempts in the GOP to woo evangelical voters in important early voting states.

THIS CORNER OF SOUTH CAROLINA was a fitting venue for the prosperity-style preaching Trump offered at campaign rallies on the eve of the presidential primary season that begins with the Iowa caucuses on Feb. 1.

Less than 10 miles away, televangelist Jim Bakker made his own promises of health and wealth on the PTL network in the 1980s before scandal and bankruptcy destroyed the ministry.

It was an era when Trump was rising to billionaire fame as a real estate mogul and a cultural stew was brewing that would shape his career and his presidential campaign: Reality television launched, the age of soundbites dawned, and the cult of personality mixed with politics, entertainment, money—and sometimes religion.

‘I play to people’s fantasies. … People want to believe something that is the biggest and greatest and the most spectacular. I call it truthful hyperbole. It’s an innocent form of exaggeration—and a very effective form of promotion.’ —Donald Trump

These days, when Trump touts Christian support, he usually means a network of prosperity-style preachers who profit from appeals to television audiences and who automatically connect wealth with God’s favor.

The television ministry of Paula White, who organized a meeting with such pastors and Trump last fall, bought a Gulfstream II jet for some $1.5 million in 2006. (Other leaders at the Trump meeting included televangelist Kenneth Copeland and Jan Crouch of the Trinity Broadcasting Network.)

Trump doesn’t ask supporters for money. Indeed, he brags about his abundant wealth and has declared: “I love money.” But he does ask for something else: blind faith that voters will receive great things if they follow him.

During the rally in January, Trump ticked through a list of promises.

On immigration: “We’re going to build a wall, and it’s going to be big and beautiful.” The “bad” immigrants will go home via “a process” he didn’t describe. On healthcare: “We’re going to get rid of Obamacare. We’re going to come up with great plans.”

Like some televangelists, Trump appeals to genuine concerns: Many voters are worried about illegal immigration, and Obamacare has hurt the healthcare plans of many working families.

But while Trump does seem comfortable discussing trade deals (a natural fit with his business background), he doesn’t offer specifics on other major issues during his rallies or explain how his historically liberal politics comport with his conservative claims.

Instead, he taunts Jeb Bush for his campaign slogan, “Jeb can fix it,” and quickly promises: “I can take care of things. Believe me. I know how.”

Trump claims to be a Christian, but when asked what he believes about God, he told a CBN reporter, “God is the ultimate,” and launched into an oratory about his real estate deals.

In his 1987 business book Trump: The Art of the Deal, Trump professed: “I play to people’s fantasies. … People want to believe something that is the biggest and greatest and the most spectacular. I call it truthful hyperbole. It’s an innocent form of exaggeration—and a very effective form of promotion.”

Perhaps one of Trump’s wildest recent claims: “I am an evangelical.” Trump made the comment during a visit to Iowa, where evangelical voters are critical to winning the GOP caucus on Feb. 1.

Despite the claim, Trump has said he’s never asked God for forgiveness—a central tenet of biblical Christianity—and that he attends church on holidays, instead of every week. (He described communion as eating “my little cracker.”)

He’s used vulgar language to describe opponents and women, but when challenged about insulting GOP contender Carly Fiorina, Trump replied, I’m “an entertainer.”

But if Trump undermines the term “evangelical,” so do some media outlets and even churches. A handful of polls from outlets like CNN and The Washington Post have claimed Trump leads GOP candidates in support from white evangelicals.

While some genuine evangelicals support Trump, some surveys don’t probe for actual beliefs and use a definition of “evangelical” that may include voters who attend church occasionally instead of regularly.

Some evangelical churches may have contributed to the confusion as well. Russell Moore of The Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission of the Southern Baptist Convention says evangelical churches often have become places where a person remains a member unless he “opts out.” That’s a failure of church leadership: “If you don’t have discipline boundaries within the church, you end up with a conflation of the church and the world.”

Moore also notes that as some evangelical churches have de-emphasized biblical theology and accountability, a spiritual vacuum has developed. For many Americans, politics fills the void.

Indeed, Moore says the fervor at mass rallies for candidates like Trump and Democratic contender Bernie Sanders shows “a hunger for truth and community that can never be satisfied with politics.”

At the Trump rally in Rock Hill, supporters called out praise during his speech, echoing the dynamic of a charismatic church gathering. At some points during the speech, a certain kind of liturgy emerged: When Trump asked, “Who’s going to build the wall?” the crowd thundered: “Mexico!” The call-and-answer repeated three times.

For supporters of Democratic presidential candidate Bernie Sanders, I-Vt., the fervor is as passionate, though the candidate and his socialist message are the extreme opposite of Trump and every other GOP contender.

Still, Sanders, who identifies as a “not particularly religious” Jew, tacked religious terms to his socialist views during a visit to the evangelical Liberty University last fall.

Sanders is the only Democratic candidate who accepted an invitation to speak during the school’s mandatory convocations. (Several Republican candidates have spoken at Liberty as well, including Trump.)

Before Sanders spoke, thousands of students sang Christian songs, including a lyrical version of the Nicene Creed: “I believe in God the Father / I believe in Christ the Son / I believe in the Holy Spirit / Our God is three in One.”

When Sanders began his speech, he thanked Liberty for the opportunity to visit and declared: “I believe in women’s rights and the rights of a woman to control her own body. I believe in gay rights and gay marriage. These are my beliefs and it is no secret.”

It was a remarkably creedal way for a socialist candidate to express his views, and it underscored the inherently belief-driven nature of even the most secularist campaign.

That message, along with a vision of massive wealth redistribution and government expansion, has drawn throngs of supporters to Sanders’ events across the country and has challenged Democratic front-runner Hillary Clinton.

The mass rallies for both Sanders and Trump evoke memories of President Barack Obama’s first run for office in 2008, when thousands of supporters packed arenas and often attached a nearly messianic hope to a political candidate.

MEANWHILE, OTHER REPUBLICAN CANDIDATES are trying to tap into evangelical votes, as the race for the primary could stretch well beyond the first three contests in Iowa, New Hampshire, and South Carolina.

Former neurosurgeon Ben Carson enjoyed support among Iowa evangelicals, but a series of foreign policy stumbles and campaign woes have damaged his poll numbers. Other GOP candidates struggle to hang onto a rung on the primary ladder.

New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie has shown flashes of support in New Hampshire, where a breakout performance could make him a dark horse candidate to watch, particularly if Trump’s poll numbers don’t convert to actual votes in the primaries.

In Iowa, Carson’s loss among evangelicals has been Ted Cruz’s gain: The Texas senator has barnstormed the state, making dozens of campaign stops in rural towns where evangelical voters comprise a significant chunk of the population.

Indeed, Iowa evangelicals comprise some 60 percent of GOP caucusgoers, making them a crucial voting bloc in the state since the 1980s. Evangelicals retain a tradition of political activism, with churches holding caucus training sessions.

Cruz has gone directly for those voters, often echoing the style of a revivalist preacher and telling audiences “it’s time to awaken the body of Christ that we may stand and pull our country back from the cliff.”

He’s held religious liberty events in Iowa and South Carolina, highlighting Christians facing legal opposition for their religious beliefs and pleading with evangelicals to vote, saying, “There is a spirit of revival and awakening sweeping this country today.”

It’s been an effective strategy, and a slew of pastors and Iowa evangelical leaders have endorsed the senator. (Focus on the Family founder James Dobson has announced his support for Cruz as well.)

A few weeks before the Iowa caucuses, Cruz led the field.

But if it’s an effective short-term strategy to win the nation’s first primary contest, it’s unclear whether it’s a realistic long-term strategy to win the GOP nomination.

Though a slew of conservative states hold primaries between Feb. 1 and March 15, Republican Party rules say most of those states must award their delegates proportionally, instead of winner-take-all.

Many later states—which tend to include a higher number of moderate voters—may award delegates on a winner-take-all basis. That means a candidate could win the popular vote in several early, conservative states, but still end up splitting those states’ delegates with runners-up.

If a candidate like Sen. Marco Rubio, R-Fla.—now polling third in national GOP surveys—attracts more moderate voters in later, winner-take-all states, he could end up with more delegates at the end of primary season.

For now, all eyes remain on the first three states.

In South Carolina, Cruz trails Trump, despite a significant number of evangelical voters in the state. Following its Iowa playbook, the campaign is enlisting the support of pastors across the state.

Mike Gonzalez, a Columbia pastor and director of the South Carolina Pastors Alliance, serves as a volunteer to seek a pastor in every county to support Cruz publicly.

Gonzalez says support is growing, but it’s sometimes a difficult sell, since many evangelical pastors are uncomfortable publicly supporting a political candidate.

David Woodard, political science professor at Clemson University, says even with a slate of public endorsements, the majority of pastors and churches in South Carolina don’t publicly support candidates: “Most evangelicals tend to decide for themselves.”

Al Phillips, director of missions for the Greenville Baptist Association in South Carolina, is a Rubio supporter and believes evangelical support in the state is split between Cruz and Rubio. (He says many pastors won’t make endorsements because they want to avoid divisions among members.)

When Rubio talks about his faith, he uses far less of a revivalist tone. Instead, he tends to emphasize what his faith means to him and the importance of protecting religious liberty for Christians in a difficult political climate. (In a recent ad called “Faith” he talked about his religious convictions without mentioning politics.)

In New Hampshire, evangelicals attract far less attention in a state a Gallup poll identified as the second least-religious state in the country. It’s a dramatic shift for a region once home to Puritans and theological giants like Jonathan Edwards, who grew up in nearby Connecticut and was a pastor for three decades in Massachusetts.

These days, evangelical churches teaching historic, biblical theology are much harder to find. Jon Taylor, pastor of Church of the Redeemer (PCA) in Manchester, N.H., grew up in the state, and sees a great need for churches with theological depth and gospel understanding.

When it comes to New Hampshire politics, conservative groups have tried to encourage evangelicals to become more involved, despite their small numbers.

Taylor says he preaches about the importance of civic involvement, without preaching about politicians or specific pieces of legislation.

It’s an emphasis on biblical preaching that includes all of life, including social and moral issues, without becoming co-opted by politics, he says: “We don’t try to advance the kingdom of God through political means.”

In places like New Hampshire, the duty of the church during a presidential election season is the same as it is in other states where evangelicals draw far more attention.

“We need to preach the gospel,” says Taylor. “We need to be involved in the community. We need to be demonstrating the gospel. That’s what’s going to effect change ultimately.”