The Mirror Church – Donald Trump, Prayer, and a Pact with Power - A Grave Danger for Europe

It was supposed to be a moment of faith. A pause. An invitation to humility. But what took place yesterday at the White House under the banner of the “Faith Office Luncheon” was the opposite. It wasn’t a service - it was a staging. Not a quiet prayer - but a word of power. Not a struggle with conscience - but a ritual of self-glorification. Donald Trump co-opted the Gospel for his own purposes - and presented a version of religion that has nothing to do with Christ.

What the former president proclaimed to business elites, pastors, and political allies was a mix of mockery, anger, business jargon, and threats. It was about weapons, tariffs, retribution, and victory. It was about NATO billions, about transgender athletes, about “crazy” central bankers and about walls as salvation. But it was not - not once - about mercy, reconciliation, or love. The word “hell” was used five times. Always as a threat. Never as a warning. The audience clapped. They laughed. They nodded. Men in suits, who see themselves as servants of God, applauded as Trump mocked the marriages of the rich and ugly. As he joked that women would leave their husbands when the money ran out. As he praised a congressman who toed the line even at half past three in the morning. And as he invoked God as the savior of his political career - after five indictments, two impeachments, and an assassination attempt.

In that moment, it became clear what “Trump-Christianity” really is: a mirror church. Not a community of believers, but an auditorium for vanity. Not a message of joy, but a preaching style in which the pastor crowns himself as messiah. It was, as one pastor later wrote, a “coronation” - not of Christ, but of one’s own ego. Trump didn’t pray. He didn’t preach. He listed things. Billions here, trillions there. Economic miracles, stock market records, tax reforms. A triumphal march through a world where everything is measurable - except morality. Everything negotiable - except loyalty. And everything forgivable - as long as the applause is loud enough. He referred to his CBS appearance as “Deface the Nation,” ranted about central bank chief Powell as a “knucklehead,” and mocked Rick Perry as unfit for a debate team. He praised Paula White, his court preacher, as a pillar of faith. And he lauded Melania for her engagement - while simultaneously mocking women who leave their husbands when the money runs dry.

Then came the prayer. A biblical sound tapestry, recited by Paula White, full of quotations, full of pathos, full of missionary zeal. It was perfectly choreographed - but what was missing was the silence. The doubt. The shame. The awe before the divine. Instead: a political vow of consecration. For an America that allegedly brings God back into the public square - and thus cloaks the violence of words in prayer. What is happening here is dangerous. It is not simply a co-opting of religion - it is its inversion. From the God who washes feet to a God who rages. From the church of the meek to a stage for the loud. And from faith to an instrument of power - to justify tariffs, explain elections, brand opponents. If you want to understand where the American church under Trump is headed, don’t just listen to the words. Listen to the applause. The laughter over hell. The silence when the name of Jesus is reduced to a rhetorical accessory. And the moment when the message of the cross drowned in the roar of self-affirmation.

Because in that room, in the “Faith Office,” there was no place for the Jesus of the Sermon on the Mount. The Jesus who blesses, not punishes. Who heals instead of rules. Who turns back instead of steamrolls ahead. He was outside - with the wounded, the forgotten, the mocked. And it was he who asked us quietly: Are you still following me - or just clapping for a man who says “hell” like a marketing slogan? In an America that is setting out to trademark faith, perhaps only one prayer remains: Lord, protect us from those who call your name - but do not live your love.

This trend is gravely dangerous - and no longer limited to the United States. In Europe, too, the temptation is growing to turn religion into a political weapon and to misuse Christian symbols for claims of cultural dominance. In Poland, for instance, during the PiS government, the image of the “Christian West” was deliberately used against refugees - with Bible verses at the border and crucifixions on campaign posters. In Hungary, Viktor Orbán regularly invokes the protection of “Christian values” as he curtails LGBTQ+ rights and blocks EU rule-of-law mechanisms. In France, Marine Le Pen marches with images of Mary while portraying the “civilization of Islam” as a threat. And in Germany? Here the line is more subtle - but it exists: When AfD officials speak of a “return to the Christian West,” they rarely mean charity - and almost always exclusion. In the programs of right-wing to far-right parties, the term “Christian culture” appears with striking frequency - but always when defining who supposedly does not belong. This is not about spirituality - it is about power. And when political movements begin to speak for God, it is not piety - it is abuse of faith. European history knows all too well the consequences of such alliances.

What is particularly alarming is the growing entanglement between the political rightward shift and conservative evangelical milieus that are using social media to reach a new generation - and deliberately targeting young people. Johannes Hartl, for instance, one of the most influential Christian influencers in Germany, is just one example among many: He presents himself as a modern thinker, speaks in aesthetic images of “unity” and “spirituality,” but promotes a strictly hierarchical and deeply conservative worldview. His free church movement centered around the Augsburg Prayer House maintains close ties to the international Christian right - from US evangelicals to neoconservative think tanks in Europe. These seemingly harmless forms of religious subculture can serve as entry points into a political agenda that reaches deep into young people’s lives - through TikTok, YouTube, conferences, and music festivals. The aesthetics are modern, but the message is regressive. We have been observing this dynamic for some time and are currently researching it more deeply. The parallels to networks like “764,” which we have reported on multiple times, are striking - there too it was about charismatic figures, closed worldviews, rigid identity rules, and targeted appeals to the vulnerabilities of youth. The danger lies not just in the content, but in the structure: A radicalized piety that warms inward and excludes outward is not religion - it is a cult.

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