December 8, 2024 - 6:40pm

This week, it was reported that Bible sales in America have spiked by a dramatic 22% between the end of October 2023 and October 2024. According to Wall Street Journal coverage, first-time buyers appear to be reaching for Christian scripture out of an instinctive sense that it can meet a spiritual desire which the material world cannot satisfy. Cely Velasquez, an unlikely evangelist who appeared on the pheromone-soaked reality show Love Island USA, described being prompted by “a combination of where we are in the world, general anxiety and the sense that meaning and comfort can be found in the Bible”.

Formal religious observance in America has been declining for years. The response to this phenomenon has varied by denomination, though one notable trend among Catholics is a renewed interest in the formal rites of the ancient church. Liturgical solemnity and high orthodoxy, once derided as irrelevant or oppressive, have become increasingly attractive to seekers of order and understanding in a world of chaotic fragmentation. But many others seem drawn to the Bible by a more private and less easily definable sense of longing, which doesn’t show up in Sunday attendance numbers. If one response to social unsettlement and collapsing institutional trust is to look for higher sources of authority in the magisterium, another — more Protestant than Catholic in character — is to clear away the apparatus of ritual altogether and reach for an unmediated relationship with God.

The past year has been characterised by radically unsettling technological change and material privation, wars around the world, and turbulent elections all over the West. Renewed combat in the Middle East has revealed a grim strain of violent bigotry in supposedly enlightened and liberal countries. At the same time, advances in artificial intelligence have called the very future and purpose of humanity into question.

These mounting existential anxieties and crises of national identity, the WSJ report suggests, have likely contributed to the demand for Bibles. In moments of affliction and vulnerability, Americans still apparently sense that the Christian tradition can bring a unique solace. This will be a fact to contend with as the role of religion in public life becomes ever more sharply contested.

As the writer Ayaan Hirsi Ali stressed in accounting for her own conversion, Christian ethics and metaphysics are neither self-evident nor commonplace. In the West, they have shaped a distinctive set of mores and ideals: “all sorts of apparently secular freedoms — of the market, of conscience and of the press — find their roots in Christianity.”

The truth of this claim is newly apparent, and newly urgent, as American politics threatens to become radically de-Christianised and so mercilessly hierarchical. Opponents of progressive race politics find themselves increasingly tempted to answer it with an anti-egalitarianism of their own. Writing for Jacobin, Dustin Guastella has argued that the Right-wing figures known as “vitalists” often “evince a disdain for the Christian emphasis on care for the weak, universalism, and equality”.

A degree of contempt for Christian mercy has been present in the Right-wing coalition at least since the middle of the 20th century. In 1964, Ayn Rand scorned the cross as the symbol of “the sacrifice of the ideal to the nonideal”. But this kind of sentiment has been drowned out by the conservative movement’s more prominent and numerous religious members — until quite recently. Now, as Ross Douthat and Nate Hochman have both written, Nietzschean vitalists such as Bronze Age Pervert have cast modern Christianity as a decadent nursing home for weaklings, its emphasis on compassion unsuited to the harsh necessities of an anti-woke counter-revolution. The traction these ideas have gained prompts some Christians to fear they may be demoted to the status of minority partners in a newly paganised America.

But the future is not guaranteed to belong to the post-Christians, Right or Left. For all that vitalism and identity politics have loomed large over the past decade, the US connection to the Judeo-Christian tradition is ancestral and bone-deep. Americans still feel the draw of it at a visceral level, which is why they reach impulsively for Bibles in times of need, why they tend to be put off by naked appeals to genetic guilt or supremacy, and why they have just reacted so decisively against a Democratic administration which freely indulged in race-based politics.

Evelyn Waugh, citing G.K. Chesterton, once referred to “an unseen hook and an invisible line” that draws the irreligious back to God in historically Christian societies. Many Americans appear now to feel the strong pull of that invisible line. In the coming years, much will depend on whether their quiet stirrings of devotion draw them further into retreat from public life, or push them to meet our godless politics with a groundswell of new and homegrown faith.


Spencer A. Klavan is associate editor of the Claremont Review of Books, host of the Young Heretics podcast, and author of Light of the Mind, Light of the World: Illuminating Science through Faith.

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