Growing up as a third-generation Italian-American Protestant in the Midwest was a strange experience. I was the only son of two New Yorkers. I didn’t have any grandparents or extended family nearby until my maternal grandmother came to live with us in my teenage years. I was neurodivergent as well, diagnosed at a young age with A.D.D. when it was still called A.D.D. After I accepted Christ’s offer of salvation at the age of 14, I read the Bible independently and wrestled with the friction between what I was reading in Holy Scripture and the false doctrine of Prosperity Gospel prevalent in the church culture where I lived. I was socially awkward. I had a “funny” last name. For most of my adolescence, I struggled to find a place to fit in. I was, in short, tribeless.

My ancestry, my awkward position as a third-generation “hyphenated American,” my “editor brain” that zeroes in on errors (which sounds like a net positive until I mention that I can’t turn it off), my dislike of conflict, my understanding of the balance of Scripture (not just the parts that I like), and my geographical proximity to Prosperity Gospel and Christian Nationalism place me in a position where I wrestle with questions of when and where and how to raise my voice.

Then I recently stumbled upon an article about the largest mass lynching in the history of the United States of America. One hundred and thirty-five years ago today, 11 Italian-Americans were murdered by an angry mob in New Orleans. Reading the historical account helped me find the courage to speak up about difficult topics like xenophobia, racism, white supremacy, and Christian Nationalism (which I would argue is neither “Christian” according to the model Christ provided nor patriotic because it denies and dishonors the very principles upon which the United States of America were founded).

When the Bible says, “God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them” (Genesis 1:27, ESV) and “You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 19:34, ESV) and “After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, 10 and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!'” (Revelation 7:9-10, ESV), I believe it. I take great encouragement from these verses, but I’m simultaneously greatly troubled to hear echoes of history in prominent and powerful voices that dehumanize and demonize any group labeled as “Other.”