NO, TRUMP WILL NOT BE REPLACED AS THE LEADER OF MAGA BY JESUS

This hot take by the Daily Beast's David Rothkopf is one of the dumber things I've read in the aftermath of Charlie Kirk's death:

The MAGA Movement Is Ready to Dump Donald Trump. Here’s His Replacement

... Sunday’s memorial for Charlie Kirk ... was the most significant high-level gathering of MAGA leaders since Trump’s inauguration and, in that respect, it was strikingly different from any other such conclave we have ever seen.

That is because on Sunday, for the first time ever, Donald Trump was not the center of attention. In fact, he seemed almost out of place there, out of step with its tone and its clear focus on the future of the right wing in American politics.

Quite apart from the looming presence of Kirk himself, the most important voices at the event were his widow, Erika Kirk, and Vice President J.D. Vance.

Stephen Miller would beg to differ. But go on, David.

While Trump spoke as a politician, Erika Kirk and Vance adopted an approach that appeared more consistent with televangelists. As Erika stated explicitly, what they were there to advance was the politics of religious revival.

Their message was unmistakable: The future of MAGA is Christian nationalism. The central figure of their movement going forward would be not Trump, but Jesus.

I agree that some sort of national conservatism is the future of the Republican Party -- and its present, actually. ("MAGA" is not really a thing. What we call "MAGA" is the Trumpified version of the GOP/Fox/talk radio/right-wing podcast cult of Democratic demonization, which existed long before Trump and will outlive him.)

The future of this movement might have a somewhat more Christian cast than the MAGA version. But Jesus won't be at the center of it.

Religion and moralizing are cards Republicans play when they think they're useful in order to get what they want. Republicans turn on a dime, attacking the moral fiber of Bill Clinton when he was in office, then declaring themselves "South Park Republicans" a few years later, when they wanted to contrast themselves with earnest left-leaning activists, and with people who were called "politically correct." Michelle Goldberg remembers:

In 2003, Andrew Sullivan wrote about a breed of conservatives that he called “South Park Republicans,” who shared the irreverent, profane ethos of the cartoon, which debuted in 1997 and delighted in ridiculing liberal sacred cows. These Republicans were socially libertarian — “some smoke pot” — and contemptuous of political correctness, and they thought protesting the invasion of Iraq was lame. “If people wonder why antiwar celebrities like Janeane Garofalo or Michael Moore failed to win over the younger generation, you only have to watch ‘South Park’ to see why,” wrote Sullivan. “The next generation sees through the cant and piety and cannot help giggling.”

Sullivan’s concept had so much currency that the author Brian C. Anderson expanded it into a book, “South Park Conservatives,” which came out in 2005. It is a fascinating snapshot of the last time the right saw itself as culturally ascendant.

Republicans, of course, think of themselves as culturally ascendant now. They're the party that won't scold you for saying "retarded"! They're going to try to remain the bro party even as they sell religion in non-bro venues. And they're trying to build a fusion of bro culture and conservative Christianity, one that accuses most young women of being sluts brain-damaged by birth control pills, SSRIs, and liberal politics. This worldview idealizes early marriage to comely virgins in gingham who want to stay at home baking bread and bearing large numbers of children, while never comparing the sexual performance of their husbands to those of past partners.

But that's just one message Republicans are selling, and there's more Andrew Tate than Jesus in it. And it's not the core Republican message now, nor is it likely to be in the future, because there are so many aspects of liberalism that Republicans will continue to demonize in the future, and they're mostly terrestrial.

Republicans will continue to say that Democrats and liberals want to replace Real Americans with foreigners and want to force everyone's kids to be trans. They'll keep attacking Democrats as profligate spenders -- Donald Trump's strategic decision to go easy on Social Security and Medicare won't outlive him, and the party will undoubtedly launch a frontal assault on these programs soon, blaming Democrats for making them unaffordable.

The future leaders of the party might be God-botherers like J.D. Vance, but they won't put God first, because sanctimony is much less enjoyable for the base than lib-owning. And remember, if Republicans are still in charge in the immediate post-Trump aftermath -- if, for instance, Trump dies in office -- his successor's top priority will be building a cult of Trump by ensuring that his face is on money, his profile is on Mount Rushmore, his name is on Dulles Airport and schools all over America, and his likeness is venerated in every state capital. If you think the right punished a lot of people for saying harsh things about Charlie Kirk, it's nothing compared to what will happen if Vance becomes president after many Americans celebrate Trump's death. Trump will still be the leader of the GOP for some time after he's gone.

Who are the true thought leaders of the GOP? Mostly secular hatemongers like Stephen Miller and Steve Bannon. Erika Kirk isn't a thought leader -- applauding her speech of forgiveness made Republicans feel virtuous, but she doesn't tell them what to think. Charlie Kirk was important to them, but while his messaging was frequently religious, especially in his later years, Christianity was the frosting, while racism and trans-bashing were the cake.

The GOP's future might not have Trump's aging-libertine energy, but the party won't go suddenly godly. There are too many earthbound Democrats to hate.