History Does Not Repeat… But It Rhymes: Duane W.H. Arnold, PhD
History Does Not Repeat… But It Rhymes
Duane W.H. Arnold, PhD
For those who have read my posts over the years, you will be aware that there is a question that haunts me more than I’d like to admit, and it’s this: Is there a meaningful comparison to be made between the German Church of the 1930s and the strand of American evangelicalism that has allied itself with the MAGA movement? It’s not a question I raise lightly. And it’s not a matter of throwing around accusations of fascism or invoking Hitler as some kind of rhetorical trump card. What I’m asking is more specific, more sobering, especially after the events off this last week: are there measurable patterns—historical, theological, political—that echo between these two moments in church history?
The answer, as unsettling as it may be, is yes. There are patterns, and they are worth naming. Not to sensationalize, but to warn. Not to condemn indiscriminately, but to help us discern what faithfulness actually looks like when the Church is tempted to confuse its witness with the power and prestige of the nation.
Let me explain what I mean.
Back in the 1930s, in the shadow of the Nazi rise to power, a movement within the Protestant churches in Germany gained traction. It called itself the Deutsche Christen, or German Christians. Their basic idea was this: that Christianity needed to be reimagined as fully German—that the faith and the Fatherland were one and the same. They promoted a version of Jesus who was stripped of his Jewishness, presented instead as a heroic Aryan, a man in the mold of the Nazi ideal. They baptized nationalism, and in doing so, surrendered the gospel.
Fast forward to our own time. In large swaths of white evangelical America, particularly those aligned with the MAGA movement, we’re seeing something eerily familiar. The gospel is being reshaped to fit a political mold. The language of national destiny, divine blessing, and strongman leadership is taking center stage. We are witnessing the rise of an Americanized Christianity that often looks less like Jesus and more like a civil religion built around flags, firearms, and a leader who is treated as chosen—anointed, even—regardless of his character.
The parallels are not exact. The German Christians operated under an authoritarian regime. American evangelicals, at present, live in a democracy. But patterns repeat.
First, there’s the fusion of nationalism with the faith. The German Christians merged cross and swastika. MAGA evangelicals talk about America as a uniquely Christian nation, ordained by God, its political fortunes tied to divine favor. It’s not uncommon to hear Scripture twisted into campaign slogans, or to see altars with the stars and stripes nearby.
Second, both movements exalted authoritarian leadership. The German Church embraced Hitler as God’s man for the hour. Many American evangelicals have done the same with Trump—declaring him “God’s Cyrus” or “God’s anointed,” even while turning a blind eye to his cruelty, lies, and manipulation. What mattered most was loyalty—not to Scripture, not to Christ, but to the movement and the man.
Third, there’s the suppression of dissenting voices. In Nazi Germany, it was the Confessing Church—Bonhoeffer, Barth, Niemöller—that stood against the tide and paid dearly for it. In the U.S., we see prominent evangelical figures who dissent from Christian nationalism—people like Russell Moore or Beth Moore—being pushed to the margins, smeared, or forced out altogether.
Fourth, both movements exhibited a selective use of Scripture. The German Christians removed the Old Testament from their Bibles and reframed Jesus in racial terms. Today, MAGA-aligned evangelicals cherry-pick verses that support their narrative (often 2 Chronicles 7:14), while glossing over the Sermon on the Mount or other texts about justice, humility, the treatment of the poor and the stranger. The Bible becomes less a witness to Christ and more a tool of political affirmation.
And then there’s the apocalyptic tone—militant eschatology, if you will. In Nazi Germany, the rise of Hitler was cast as a kind of end-times deliverance for the German people. In MAGA evangelical circles, there’s talk of war, of spiritual war, of cosmic stakes, of America’s last chance to be saved. Everything becomes framed in terms of crisis, and crisis demands loyalty. Moreover, such a crisis, or several, can easily be manufactured.
To be clear: the American Church is not the German Church of the 1930s. While we have been dismayed by the method and manner of deportations, we haven’t seen anything on the scale of the Holocaust, nor are we at present under an outright dictatorship. But history doesn’t just repeat—it rhymes. And when the Church forgets its Lord and binds itself to Caesar, the results are always the same: a compromised witness, a corrupted gospel, and a generation that loses sight of Jesus because he’s been buried under layers of patriotic myth.
The warning signs are real. And if we care about the future of the Church—especially its credibility with the next generation—we have to be willing to name what’s happening. We have to recover a theology that doesn’t bend to power, that doesn’t mistake nationalism for holiness, and that remembers that our King rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, not in a motorcade.
If we won’t do that—if we won’t disentangle the cross from the flag—then we’ll find ourselves, once again, in the company of those who thought they were serving God while they were really serving something, or someone, else entirely.
History will be the judge…and history will not be kind.
If you wish to read more, I would suggest:

Duane,
I regretfully agree with all you have written. What is also similar to Nazi Germany is the degree of planning that has gone into what is happening right now. Hitler’s plan to persecute the Jews was formed long before it began. I think the same of the current ICE tactics-they have been planned and targeted. Much of the current administration seems very chaotic, but I don’t think it as chaotice as it appears. I keep running into my own thoughts of “what I can do about it?” I pray daily, and I also try to encourage the folks in the Hispanic congregation. It just doesn’t seem like very much.
Linn,
I hear that question too—“What can I do about it?”—and I think you’re not alone in asking it. Honestly, I ask it myself more than I’d like to admit. The weight of what we’re up against—whether it’s political idolatry, cultural fear, or just the sheer fatigue of holding on to hope—it can feel like trying to stop a flood with a teaspoon.
But here’s what I’ve come to believe: the work that feels small is often the work that matters most. You pray daily. That’s not nothing. That’s resistance in a world that wants to shape our hearts in every direction but toward God. And you’re encouraging the folks in your Hispanic congregation—that, to me, is sacred ground. You’re helping people feel seen, reminding them they matter, reminding them they are part of the story God is telling in this world.
No, it may not make headlines. It may not change national policy or overturn systems overnight. But it is exactly the kind of work that Jesus pointed to again and again—the mustard seed, the yeast in the dough, the cup of cold water. The quiet faithfulness that the world doesn’t notice, but heaven never forgets.
What can you do? You’re already doing it. Keep praying. Keep encouraging. Keep showing up. Keep telling the truth. The arc of the gospel doesn’t rely on us being loud or famous—it just asks us to be faithful.
Duane,
Thank you! I will keep it up.
Back during WW2 my cousins in Norway were very miffed about the Nazi occupation. So, they joined the resistance, and started tucking sticks of dynamite into their boots when they went out to check the livestock. They skied around the farm in the winter. They spent the rest of the war blowing up bridges, making it difficult for the Germans to run their trucks. Most of the action took place in the winter. They were quite peaceful….until they met the Germans.
I still believe in the American people and the American experience.
We will not suffer a tyrant now or ever.
Muff
I want to believe that too. And on my better days, I still do.
Yet history has taught me to hold that belief with humility, because tyranny doesn’t always arrive marching in jackboots or waving a foreign flag. Sometimes it comes dressed in patriotism, quoting Scripture, smiling for the cameras. It doesn’t always declare itself openly. It just slowly erodes our capacity to tell the truth, to care for our neighbor, to choose the common good over personal power and gain.
I still believe in the American people too—but I also believe that democracy, like faith, has to be practiced. It has to be nourished, guarded, and sometimes even requires a second look – think of segregation. We’re not immune to tyranny just because we’ve known freedom. Every generation has to choose it again.
So yes—let’s hope. Let’s believe, but let’s also stay awake.
Per usual Duane, I’d have to defer to your intellect and study.
However, I’m stumped as to how many of those similarly untrained like myself can read the simple accounts of Judas, the religious elites, those who shouted for Barrabas of Jesus day and not see they are seeking/following the same anitichrist!
No, I’m not speaking of Pres. Trump.
I’m speaking of who we are really wrestling with, for the man does not matter, it’s the spirit of the age once he’s got his hooks into fear, greed, and other idol worship, he’ll have them following a poodle if he wants!
Our Lord made use of none of the tricks of the god of this world, but trusted The Father, as we should ONLY.
He called ignorant, illiterate galilean fisherman, a zealot, and tax collector, and yet THEY followed Him, even through their doubt and unbelief.
We can trust we only need Jesus!
“A zealot and a tax collector “
Jesus chose two men from the two most opposite political parties of his time and culture deliberately, and he did it for a reason. To me, it makes it ludicrous to claim one political party is God’s party, and people who prefer a different party aren’t really Christian, or worse, openly serving the devil. I just wish more people would realize that.
“ Jesus chose two men from the two most opposite political parties of his time and culture deliberately, and he did it for a reason”
We have to be careful about applying our cultural issues to what happened in the biblical narratives, however the point is well taken. Loving and following God and Jesus the Christ is should always be outside of political sects.
The problem is how do people live that out?
In previous threads I read a lot of hate and partisan views with little application of a love for God and His creation. If one truly wants to do their best to follow Jesus then live it out; learn what He actually taught and stop listening to what others say He taught.
I see the Supreme Court has just given the okay to the Trump regime to rendition migrants in the US to third countries. CECOT? Okay. Librya, Rwanda? Okay. The SCOTUS, or rather the conservative justices who voted for this, do not give a dam about human life. If you think it will stop with migrants, and so at least you’re safe, think again. The rhymes are coming faster and stronger every day.
Whatever faith I may have had in the American people — and I’ll admit it was never very hearty or solid — is completely gone. And despite my lifelong cynicism about the American people, I admit that my heart is broken.
Robert F
I understand that heartbreak. I really do. There’s a kind of grief that comes not from being surprised, but from watching what you feared might happen slowly unfold in front of you—and realizing that even your cynicism didn’t prepare you for how deep the rot goes.
It’s one thing to be disappointed. It’s another thing entirely to feel betrayed—by neighbors, by churches, by institutions that were supposed to stand for something better.
But even as someone who often walks with one foot in lament and the other in hard-won faith, I have to say: if your heart is broken, it means you still care. And maybe that’s where hope begins—not in naive optimism, but in the refusal to go numb. The refusal to stop feeling.
I’m not asking you to believe in the American people again. But I do think there’s something holy in the brokenness itself. Something God can work with. And maybe that’s the beginning of something deeper than belief in a nation—it’s belief that love of neighbor is still worth the cost, even when it hurts.
You’re not alone in this.
TH
The gospel isn’t blue or red. It isn’t captive to empire or ideology. It calls us to something higher, something holier, something more costly. You’re exactly right to ask: how do people actually live that out? That kind of discipleship doesn’t fit neatly in any political box. It’s uncomfortable. It’s costly. But it’s also what makes the Church the Church, and not just another voting bloc.
So yes—faith should transcend politics. But living that out? That takes courage, and community, and a whole lot of grace.
Much agreement here Duane, if MAGA Christianity took over, it would be as brutal a dictatorship as any the world has seen.
A pox on them.
Muff
When any form of Christianity becomes wedded to raw political power, especially when it baptizes authoritarian instincts and wraps them in Scripture, the results are always destructive…
“So yes—faith should transcend politics. But living that out? That takes courage, and community, and a whole lot of grace.”
I agree and then immediately a post comes up complaining about politics.
The problem is all humans want to be on the bus, right or wrong our nature is to ride along with others. Call it community, politics, or something else.
There are always many buses going to various destinations filled with people and we always choose one to ride along with others.
We might think we are being independent or even a rebel while on the bus. Some of us read books, cover our ears with ear buds or the latest headsets shutting out the noise of the bus and the people on it. And yet here we are riding along with others to some local or distant destination.
Just like in the Garden, we all want to be in control of our own lives and yet listen to the allure of others and jump right on their bus.
TH
Knowing the destination is important… Some buses may not get you there.
“Knowing the destination is important… Some buses may not get you there.”
True.
We all get to choose or sometimes others choose for us.
Years ago a Pakistani friend of mine and I were discussing religion and faith. He brought a truth up, “You are a Christian because you were raised in a Christian Nation.” “Consider the Hindu or Muslim and how they were raised, does that make their belief any less?”
The question all of should ask is, “which bus am I going to ride on and maybe I should request a transfer at the next stop?”
How do I decide?
Hey, that fiery preacher told me I was going to hell on all those other buses.
“In previous threads I read a lot of hate and partisan views with little application of a love for God and His creation. ”
Love of God sometimes requires what appear to be partisan words.
When immigrants and migrants are treated as subhuman, the love of God demands we oppose those who are doing so.
When the creation is threatened by those who would destroy it for their greed, the love of God demands we oppose that.
When the Gospel is compromised as nothing but a tool to manipulate, the love of God demands we oppose that.
Yes. Exactly this.
The love of God is not passive. It’s not abstract or sentimental. It’s incarnational—it takes on flesh. It walks toward the wounded, not around them. It speaks when silence would be safer. And it refuses to baptize injustice, no matter how cleverly it’s disguised.
When immigrants are dehumanized, when creation is exploited, when the Gospel is twisted into a tool for control—these aren’t just social or political issues. They are violations of love. And if we claim to love God, we cannot look away.
Just this Saturday past, I took part in a peaceful protest march against the ICE patrols which target Mexican migrants whose only crime is seeking out a better life. It was hugely attended in my Southern Cali town. We’ve never seen anything like it, not even back during Vietnam.
This old tune from way back in the day captures it well.
Muff
That’s fantastic! We are going to have to take a stand with other people of conscience and hope that we can rebuild a civil society…