Restoring "Faith" in our politics
Restoring faith in our politics doesn’t require everyone to believe the same things.
One of the things that has consistently surprised me—both in 2018 and again now, running in 2026—is how often political interests claim ownership over entire ideas. Military service. Entrepreneurship. Faith. As if any one party gets to decide who belongs where.
People still seem genuinely surprised to meet a combat veteran running as a Democrat, or a tech entrepreneur campaigning from the center-left. But what’s been most refreshing this political season is something else entirely: the re-emergence of faith as a message rooted in humility, service, and moral accountability—rather than as an interpretive tool to divide Americans.
For decades, the political right has tried to claim faith as its exclusive moral high ground, extrapolating policies that too often disparage, exclude, and harm. And, too often, the left has put the lessons of faith aside in attempts to build a bigger tent. That’s why the voice of James Talarico, currently running for US Senate as a Democrat in Texas, is such a welcome disruption and one that has provided much appreciated leadership to candidates up and down the ticket, on both sides of the aisle.
Many first encountered Talarico during his appearance on The Joe Rogan Experience—a masterclass in calm, thoughtful civility.
More recently, a conversation with Ezra Klein went deeper, exploring the complexity of faith and its uneasy relationship with modern politics.
Talarico speaks openly as a Christian, but not in the performative way we’ve grown accustomed to in politics. Like me, he appears to center his faith on the red-letter words—the actual teachings of Jesus—rather than the layers of interpretation that so often become tools of control. He reminds listeners that Jesus wasn’t only gentle and welcoming; he also flipped tables in the temple when religious authorities drifted toward corruption and power.
One of Talarico’s most pointed observations stuck with me: if far-right evangelical politics truly reflected the Gospel, we’d see far more energy devoted to caring for the poor, the sick, the stranger, and the meek—and far less to protecting entrenched power structures.
If you want to go deeper into how faith has been warped into a political weapon, I’d point you to a USTomorrow piece I wrote last year reflecting on The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory—a powerful examination of how parts of evangelical Christianity migrated from the teachings of Christ toward the pursuit of political dominance.
More recently, in a conversation with Ezra Klein, Talrico explored money, capitalism, and the role of billionaires in society—another area where labels tend to replace nuance. It reminded me of a terrific interview from my friend Brett Hurt on his show Love Conquers Fear, featuring John Mackey.
Mackey—co-founder of Whole Foods Market—describes himself as a “conscious capitalist.” His argument isn’t that markets are perfect, but that when guided by values, capitalism can lift people out of poverty, provide dignity through work, and strengthen families and communities. It’s a message that shows up not just in conversation, but in how he has chosen to lead his life.
Here’s the connective tissue: when any institution—political parties, churches, corporations—consolidates too much power, it starts to behave like a monopoly. And monopolies tend to confuse ownership with virtue. Military service. Business experience. Patriotism. Faith. None of these belong to one side of the political aisle. Rather, they provide the appropriate foundations from which to build (or rebuild) a better future for humankind.
Seeing someone like James Talarico speak openly about faith—with depth, compassion, and moral courage—is causing many voters to pause and rethink long-held assumptions. Democrat. Republican. Independent. Left. Right. Every day, each of us get to redefine what service, contribution, and belief in something larger than ourselves really means.
And one final point that’s vitally important. Research increasingly shows that as young people feel more detached—from community, from purpose, from one another—they often fall deeper into isolation, anxiety, and the hollow substitutes of online life. Faith communities, at their best, offer something profoundly human: gathering, belonging, shared responsibility across generations. Political gatekeeping and polarization have the potential to deprive an entire generation of the strength many of us have been offered by these communities. At our core, we are tribal creatures. We are wired for community. For taking care of one another. For building something that lasts longer than any election cycle.
Restoring faith in our politics doesn’t require everyone to believe the same things. It requires that we look within ourselves and listen to each other, not the political industry and related donor lists. It requires remembering that faith, service, and contribution were never meant to be weapons. They were meant to be shared commitments—toward a healthier society, and a more hopeful tomorrow.