The chapter begins by tracing religious scapegoating to its biblical origins in Leviticus 16, where the high priest Aaron, brother of Moses, symbolically transferred Israel’s sins onto a goat that was then sent into the wilderness. This practice gave rise to the term “scapegoat” for any innocent party blamed for others’ wrongdoing.

In July 2010, Glenn Beck declared on Fox News that if Jesus were truly a victim, “he would’ve come back from the dead and made the Jews pay for what they did” (251). This charge of “deicide”—collective Jewish responsibility for Jesus’s death—has justified centuries of persecution culminating in the Holocaust. Fugelsang refutes this claim by explaining that while some Jewish leaders participated in Jesus’s arrest, the Romans held all governmental and military power. Roman authorities imprisoned, tried, tortured, and crucified Jesus using Roman soldiers and Roman methods. As Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg notes, the Romans controlled the region and exercised political and military authority. Fugelsang further argues that later Christian institutions contributed to narratives that assigned collective blame to Jewish people, a distortion that persists in some forms today.

The history of Christian anti-Semitism includes legal restrictions under imperial Christianity, the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 requiring Jews to wear distinctive clothing and live in ghettos, Crusade-era massacres in the Rhineland, the 12th-century blood libel myth, and expulsions from England, France, and Spain. Martin Luther, the Protestant Reformation’s founder, initially hoped to convert Jews but later wrote strongly anti-Jewish tracts including the 1543 work On the Jews and Their Lies, calling for synagogue destruction and Jewish expulsion. In 1936, as European anti-Semitism reached its apex, Nazi Germany published a version of John’s Gospel with a preface by Bishop Weidemann declaring that Germans must understand “what Christ, Whom the Jews nailed to the cross, means” (254).

In the United States, Catholic priest and radio personality Charles Coughlin built a massive audience by blaming Jews for economic troubles and linking them to communism. Industrialist Henry Ford published anti-Semitic articles in The Dearborn Independent, which he compiled into The International Jew: The World’s Foremost Problem. After World War II exposed the Holocaust’s horrors, the Catholic Church’s Second Vatican Council produced the Nostra Aetate document repudiating the deicide charge, though many Christians never encountered it.

Today, Fugelsang argues that some Christian nationalist groups support Israel in ways shaped by premillennial dispensationalist interpretations of Rapture prophecies, a theological framework that anticipates an end-times event in which believers are taken to heaven. Pastor John Hagee, founder of Christians United for Israel, revealed this theology in 2006 by blaming “the disobedience and rebellion of the Jews” (256). Fugelsang presents this as an example of how certain interpretations of prophecy position Israel within an end-times framework tied to eschatological expectations.

When Christians cite John 14:6—“No one comes to the Father except through me” (256)—to condemn non-Christians, Fugelsang challenges them to consider what it means to “go through Jesus” (256). If the passage is metaphorical, then living by Jesus’s teachings of love may constitute sufficient access to God. Jesus himself showed compassion to those outside his faith, and in John 14:2, he promises, “In my Father’s house are many mansions” (257), which Fugelsang presents as indicating a more expansive understanding of access to God.

Regarding Islam, a 2017 Pew Research survey found nearly three-quarters of white evangelicals perceive an inherent conflict between Islam and democracy. Fugelsang also includes a personal example of a family member’s cross-cultural marriage to illustrate how interpersonal relationships can challenge prejudice. Islam represents 0.9 percent of the US population and is one of the nation’s most racially diverse religions. Historical Christian hostility toward Muslims stems from the Crusades and intensified after September 11, 2001, when individuals from multiple religious and ethnic backgrounds were targeted in acts of violence associated with Islamophobic responses.

Prominent figures including Franklin Graham, Pat Robertson, Jerry Falwell Jr., and Robert Jeffress have publicly condemned Islam. Fugelsang counters claims that Islam worships a “false God” by explaining that Christianity and Islam share belief in the same monotheistic God of Abraham; “Allah” is the Arabic term for “the-God.” Lt. Gen. William Boykin demonstrated this misunderstanding in 2003 when he said his God was real while a Muslim suspect’s “was an idol” (260). Muslims revere Jesus as a great prophet, and the Quran mentions the Virgin Mary more frequently. Fugelsang argues that hostility toward Muslims or Jews conflicts with Jesus’s teaching to “love your neighbor as yourself” (261).

The chapter concludes by addressing prejudice against atheists. Fugelsang states that some of the most Christlike people he has known have been atheists, and suggests that nonbelievers who prioritize love and reason may be included within a broader understanding of salvation. When Christians cite Psalm 14:1—“The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God’” (262)—to condemn atheists, Fugelsang explains that the biblical term “fool” referred to moral corruption rather than intellectual disbelief, as there was no organized atheist movement in ancient times. Mark 16:16’s statement that “whoever does not believe will be condemned” (262) is presented as focusing on personal spiritual accountability and does not prescribe how Christians should treat nonbelievers, since judgment is reserved for God alone.

In 2013, Pope Francis made international news by declaring that good deeds could redeem anyone, including atheists. Referencing the Gospel of Mark, he emphasized that individuals outside a particular religious group should not be prevented from doing good, highlighting a broader ethical principle of “do good and do not do evil” (264). The Vatican quickly issued a correction, reasserting traditional doctrine that non-Catholics “cannot be saved” (264) regardless of their moral actions. Fugelsang contrasts this clarification with Francis’s emphasis on ethical conduct and inclusivity.

The chapter opens with Fugelsang describing his paternal grandfather, Leonard, a Brooklyn house painter who worked for clients including General Douglas MacArthur and Bob Keeshan (Captain Kangaroo). Leonard was kind and devoted to caring for Fugelsang’s grandmother through her declining health, but he also held deep prejudices against Black people, Jews, and Puerto Ricans. A devout Catholic, he attended Mass faithfully and insisted on receiving Communion only from ordained priests, refusing to accept the Eucharist from lay ministers including Fugelsang’s father. Fugelsang recalls the tension his parents felt when Leonard made racist comments, and uses this account to introduce the broader issue of how prejudice can coexist with religious identity within family contexts.

Fugelsang argues that white supremacy, in all its forms, fundamentally contradicts Jesus’s teachings. While supremacist violence represents the most visible extreme, the ideology manifests across a broad spectrum, from armed militias to church members who oppose racial justice movements. Jesus consistently commanded love for all people, especially the marginalized, and taught humility rather than racial exaltation. Christian theology holds that every person is made in the Imago Dei—the image of God—which Fugelsang presents as incompatible with any system that assigns unequal human value based on race.

American Christianity has been historically intertwined with white supremacy through the theological justification of slavery. One major example is the “Curse of Ham” (268) from Genesis 9, where Noah gets drunk and passes out naked in his tent. His son Ham accidentally sees him and tells his brothers Shem and Japheth, who walk in backward with a garment to cover their father. When Noah awakens, he curses Ham’s son Canaan, prophesying that Canaan’s descendants will be servants to their relatives. For centuries, theologians taught that Ham’s descendants populated Africa, thus God supposedly ordained African enslavement. Fugelsang challenges this reading by noting that the curse is directed at Canaan, not Ham, that Ham is also associated with regions such as Egypt, and that the biblical text does not assign racial identity. He concludes that using this passage to justify slavery contradicts Jesus’s teaching of the Golden Rule, which emphasizes treating others as one would wish to be treated.

Mormon church founders Joseph Smith and Brigham Young taught that Black people bore both the Curse of Ham and the Mark of Cain (interpreted as Black skin), barring them from the priesthood until 1978, when President Jimmy Carter threatened the church’s tax-exempt status. After slavery ended, Christian leaders defended segregation as divinely ordained. In a sermon delivered four years after the Supreme Court’s 1954 decision in Brown v. Board of Education, Reverend Jerry Falwell Sr. declared that “when God has drawn a line of distinction, we should not attempt to cross that line” (271). Fugelsang challenges this interpretation by explaining that the cited biblical passage emphasizes the shared origin and unity of humanity.

The white Christian population has declined from nearly two-thirds of Americans in the 1970s to approximately 40 percent by the early 2020s. A 2020 Public Religion Research Institute survey found that over 70 percent of Fox News Republicans claim Christians face significant discrimination, and 58 percent say the same about white people, while fewer believe Black, Hispanic, or Asian Americans experience discrimination. In a 2023 PRRI survey, 81 percent of Christian nationalist adherents agreed that “immigrants are invading our country and replacing our cultural and ethnic background” (273). A 2018 survey showed 86 percent of white evangelical Protestants view the Confederate flag as a symbol of Southern pride rather than racism. Fugelsang notes that these patterns reflect perceptions of cultural and demographic change, illustrated through examples such as the coexistence of Martin Luther King Jr. Day with Confederate commemorations in some states.

Theologian Dillon Naber Cruz emphasizes that Jesus never qualified his command to love, citing the example of Daryl Davis, a Black musician who befriends and deradicalizes Klan members, as a model of Christlike behavior. John Fugelsang presents Indigenous communities such as the Wampanoag, who assisted the Pilgrims, as reflecting values aligned with Jesus’s teachings. He identifies parallels between Jesus’s teachings and Native traditions: communal sharing of resources, peacemaking through restorative justice, respect for marginalized community members, servant leadership, and humility.

Dr. Anthea Butler, author of White Evangelical Racism, states that evangelicals must abandon racism and “actually pay attention to the Red-Letter words of Jesus” (276) to fix their movement. The US Census Bureau projects that white people will become a minority around 2045. Fugelsang frames this demographic shift as a context in which Christians are called to apply principles of reciprocity and ethical treatment toward others.

The chapter concludes by returning to Leonard’s final days. After his wife died, Leonard came to live with Fugelsang’s family while dying of lung cancer. The young author would sit with him late into the night, bonding over Mets games despite being unable to articulate his love or reconcile his grandfather’s kindness with his prejudices. When Leonard fell and was hospitalized near death, Fugelsang’s father requested a priest for last rites. A Filipino priest arrived, and Fugelsang’s parents feared their father would respond with racism in his final moments. Instead, Leonard received the priest, prayed with him, and expressed gratitude, which Fugelsang presents as a moment of reconciliation and change at the end of his life.

The concluding chapter opens with quotes from G. K. Chesterton and James Baldwin. Fugelsang acknowledges that Christianity has been responsible for significant suffering but argues that organized religion and individual spirituality are distinct, and countless believers have performed unmeasured acts of love and kindness. He presents Martin Luther King Jr. as an example of how Christians have challenged unjust systems using the language and teachings of their faith.

Fugelsang distinguishes between “Christians,” a term he uses for those who identify with the religion but may prioritize power or cultural identity, and “Christ followers,” whom he describes as aligning their actions with Jesus’s teachings of justice, mercy, and love. Throughout history, when colonizing Christians committed violence, he cites figures such as Bartolomé de Las Casas who used scripture to oppose such actions. When Crusaders justified violence, figures such as Francis of Assisi advocated nonviolence. When Christians defended slavery, Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, and Quakers resisted. When Christians enforced segregation, Martin Luther King Jr., Howard Thurman, Fannie Lou Hamer, and James Lawson resisted through nonviolence. When Christian capitalists opposed labor rights, Dorothy Day and the Catholic Worker Movement championed workers. When Christian nationalists pushed anti-LGBTQ legislation, Gene Robinson, the first openly gay Episcopal bishop, and Reverend Troy Perry, founder of the Metropolitan Community Church, embraced LGBTQ individuals as beloved children of God.

Fugelsang notes that Christian identification has declined from 90 percent of Americans in the 1990s to two-thirds today. He suggests that, in response to this decline, some Christian groups may need to move away from positions he characterizes as exclusionary and engage more closely with causes associated with Jesus’s teachings, including care for marginalized communities, environmental responsibility, and social justice.

Fugelsang explains that he wrote the book in response to what he presents as distortions of the Bible and the use of religion to justify harmful behavior. He calls for compassion toward those trapped in toxic Christianity, acknowledging they are often neighbors and family members, but insists their political agenda must be defeated in a democracy. Authentic Christians do not seek dominance but transformation. Quoting Rian Johnson’s film The Last Jedi, where Luke Skywalker, played by Mark Hamill, says, “The Jedi don’t own the Force” (282), Fugelsang argues that religious authorities do not own God, Jesus, the Bible, America, or anyone else. He suggests that individuals engage critically with religious teachings, including by comparing contemporary practices with passages such as the Sermon on the Mount.

The book concludes with a personal reflection. Fugelsang states that his presence is not the result of his parents’ “[breaking] a promise to God” (283). He recounts his father’s view that the same sense of calling that led him into the Franciscan order eventually led him beyond it—to marriage, family, and the work of making the world better. After years of giving their names, freedom, chastity, and obedience to their church, both parents chose a different path that Fugelsang presents as a continuation of their spiritual development. He suggests that changes in religious belief can be part of a meaningful spiritual process. The final sentence reads: “My parents chose love over religion, because love is the only religion that always works” (283).