The Pulpit and the Ballot Box: When Faith Endorses Power

In the perpetually contentious arena where faith intersects with the public square, a seismic shift has just occurred, promising to send tremors through the delicate architecture of American political life. The Internal Revenue Service (IRS), in a move that can only be described as a dramatic departure from decades of established tradition, has declared that houses of worship may now, with the full blessing of their tax-exempt status, openly endorse candidates for political office. This surprise announcement, quietly slipped into a court document filed on a Monday, effectively reinterprets the venerable Johnson Amendment—a 1954 provision in the tax code that explicitly forbade such political intervention by non-profit organizations. The implications are profound, threatening to redraw the lines between sacred and secular, and to infuse electoral politics with a newfound, and potentially potent, spiritual fervor.

The Johnson Amendment: A Bur Under the Saddle, Now Untethered

For nearly seven decades, the Johnson Amendment has served as a bur under the saddle of many a pastor, particularly those with a fervent desire to see their theological convictions translated directly into political outcomes. The provision unequivocally stated that churches and other non-profits risked losing their coveted tax-exempt status if they “participate in, or intervene in ‘any political campaign on behalf of (or in opposition to) any candidate for public office.'” This legal stricture, often seen as a bulwark for the separation of church and state, simultaneously drew the ire of those who viewed it as an infringement on their First Amendment rights to freedom of speech and the free exercise of religion. The IRS, for its part, rarely enforced the rule with zealous abandon, creating a legal gray area that allowed for the proliferation of “voting guides” and other technically permissible, yet overtly partisan, activities. Indeed, a 2022 investigation by ProPublica and The Texas Tribune found that at least 18 churches had already endorsed political candidates, with the agency largely looking the other way.

The political winds, however, have long been blowing against the Johnson Amendment. During Felonious Punk’s (Donald Trump’s) first term, he famously promised to “get rid of and totally destroy the Johnson Amendment and allow our representatives of faith to speak freely and without fear of retribution,” a pledge he reiterated at a high-profile National Prayer Breakfast in 2017. While the IRS’s latest court filing, a joint submission with the National Religious Broadcasters Association and other plaintiffs (including two Texas churches) in a federal court in Texas, doesn’t go quite so far as to “totally destroy” the amendment, its reinterpretation achieves a remarkably similar effect.

The IRS now posits that when a house of worship “in good faith speaks to its congregation, through its customary channels of communication on matters of faith in connection with religious services, concerning electoral politics viewed through the lens of religious faith,” it neither participates nor intervenes in a political campaign. In a rather quaint analogy, the IRS compared such religious endorsements of candidates to a mere “family discussion.” Thus, the legal gate has swung open, seemingly legitimizing direct pulpit endorsements as an act of faith, rather than a political intervention. This move effectively calls for a carve-out for religious organizations from the rarely used rule, putting into writing what was largely an unspoken IRS policy. The IRS further argued in its court filing that prohibiting churches from endorsing candidates would create “serious tension” with the First Amendment, stating that “For many houses of worship, the exercise of their religious beliefs includes teaching or instructing their congregations regarding all aspects of life, including guidance concerning the impact of faith on the choices inherent in electoral politics.” Republican lawmakers have also introduced legislation this year to scrap the Johnson Amendment entirely.

It is worth noting the peculiar historical ironies now swirling around this reinterpretation. Lyndon B. Johnson, the very senator who introduced this amendment in 1954, had a daughter who famously attended Camp Mystic, the very girls’ camp in Texas where at least 27 young lives were tragically lost in recent floods. A poignant, if unintended, connection between the amendment’s namesake and a site of profound national grief.

Furthermore, in a more practical, if less somber, historical footnote, the Johnson Amendment once offered a convenient shield for pastors. During the heated 1976 presidential campaign, for instance, the amendment provided a ready excuse for religious leaders to avoid discussing Mr. Carter’s controversial Playboy interview from the pulpit. With no internet to provide discreet summaries, a pastor’s only means of knowing the interview’s content would have been to purchase a copy of the magazine—a situation everyone was acutely aware of, and one that the amendment conveniently allowed them to bypass without appearing to shirk their pastoral duties.

The Implications: A Fractured Wall and a Politicized Pulpit

The IRS’s reinterpretation carries profound implications for the American political landscape, potentially ushering in an era where the separation of church and state, already a perpetually debated concept, becomes even more porous. The decision effectively blesses the direct endorsement of candidates from the pulpit, transforming places of worship into explicit extensions of political campaigns. This move, while celebrated by those who champion religious freedom without perceived government interference, will undoubtedly alarm proponents of strict church-state separation, who foresee a future where religious institutions become overtly partisan actors, potentially alienating congregants who do not share the political views of their spiritual leaders.

Experts in nonprofit law have already noted that the IRS’s new stance could lead to a “big increase of politics being espoused in churches,” even though it mainly seemed to formalize what already appeared to be the agency’s unspoken policy. The “family discussion” analogy, while perhaps intended to soften the impact, might strike many as an alarming trivialization of the profound power dynamics at play when a religious leader, cloaked in spiritual authority, explicitly directs a congregation’s political choices. The question now becomes not if, but how quickly, this newly unfettered political expression from the pulpit will manifest, and what consequences it will bear for both religious institutions and the broader democratic process.

Indeed, these new rules, promulgated by the IRS, allow churches not only to endorse but also to donate to political candidates, as The New York Times reported. This development arrives at a time when religion has increasingly become a staple in American politics, with Felonious Punk having notably surrounded himself with religious figures to appeal to his Evangelical base, even hiring a spiritual advisor for the White House. This strategic alignment suggests that the new IRS rules could play a significant part in the 2026 midterm elections. Lloyd Hitoshi Mayer, a law professor at the University of Notre Dame, starkly observed that the change “basically tells churches of all denominations and sects that you’re free to support candidates from the pulpit,” and, perhaps more pointedly, “It also says to all candidates and parties, ‘Hey, time to recruit some churches.’”

Experts are already suggesting that Felonious Punk is seeking to build a “new kind of religious right,” one that explicitly places churches at the forefront of America’s culture wars. This transformation, as Katherine Kelaidis, a research associate at the Institute for Orthodox Christian Studies in the United Kingdom, argues, makes it less of a religious movement and more of a political one. This most recent alignment of conservative evangelicals behind the GOP and its candidates has been widely criticized as an effort to insert the church as a secular authority, much like the Catholic church once was across much of Europe. Critics contend that this blurs the lines between spiritual guidance and partisan politicking, potentially undermining the moral authority of religious institutions themselves.

Still others claim that endorsing politicians is a way for certain pastors to “cash in” with various favors if their candidate wins, transforming spiritual influence into tangible political capital. The influence of this new religious right is not expected to be confined to the pews. Ellen Aprill, a professor emeritus at Loyola Law School in Los Angeles, warns that “It’s not going to be limited to just their membership. Even Las Vegas doesn’t stay in Las Vegas these days. Everybody has a web page.” This implies a pervasive, digitally amplified politicization of religious institutions, extending their reach far beyond traditional congregational boundaries and into the broader public sphere.

The National Council of Nonprofits, representing 30,000 such groups, has issued a stark warning, arguing that the IRS’s move is “not about religion or free speech, but about radically altering campaign finance laws.” Diane Yentel, the group’s president, contends that the “decree could open the floodgates for political operatives to funnel money to their preferred candidates while receiving generous tax breaks at the expense of taxpayers who may not share those views.” This raises significant concerns about the potential for political groups to use nonprofits as a “legal disguise” to circumvent campaign finance regulations, blurring the lines between charitable activity and partisan politicking.