After my previous article on the Carlson–Fuentes interview, only two concerns emerged, neither of which actually addressed the article’s premise. Still, I’d like to take a quick moment with them.
The first was theological—a defense of dispensationalism from a very small group. And by small, I mean that. That said, I’ll speak to this relatively quickly because, from my perspective, it is the lesser of the two. Quite simply, dispensationalism is a false doctrine. The Church has never confessed it, and history has not vindicated it. I laid out the evidence quite thoroughly in the original article and see no need to repeat myself. Some errors don’t deserve endless rehearsing.
The second concern (which, resulted in certain behaviors) is the louder one: platforming. It would seem that the process and content of the Carlson-Fuentes interview—and the watching and analyzing of that interview—is equal to amplifying evil. That claim came mostly from the finger-waggers—the “Shame on you!” crowd—who seemed more scandalized by the act of engagement than by ignorance itself. Interestingly, these are some of the same people I’ve seen criticizing modern journalism, saying it no longer serves its original design. But then, when someone actually does what journalism was meant to do—examine, question, expose—they recoil. It’s as though they prefer caricatures to clarity. Maybe even slogans to substance. The moment a journalist dares to enter the cave and shine a light on what’s inside, the guardians of propriety cry foul. They don’t want darkness examined. They want it ignored. “Don’t let it speak,” they say. “Leave it alone, and it will go away.” But ignorance doesn’t defeat evil. It unwittingly protects it. Besides, history has already disproved that strategy. When the world dismissed the early reports of a rising agitator in 1930s Germany as mere fringe ranting unworthy of serious attention, the result was not silence. It was slaughter. The monster eventually came out of the cave, and only those who’d investigated it while it was still in the cave knew what to do.
Something to keep in mind… Ultimately, journalism, theology, and moral reasoning all require engagement. Therefore, to analyze something is not to endorse it. A surgeon can study disease without becoming infected. A pastor can study heresy without believing it. And a podcast journalist can interview a reprobate without becoming one. We don’t preserve truth by closing our eyes. We preserve it by seeing clearly and speaking honestly.
From a “closer-to-home” LCMS perspective, there was the concern that seminarians are being drawn to Fuentes’ ideas. If that’s true, that’s tragic. But it’s also not an argument for ignoring those ideas. It’s an argument for confronting them, for doing it well, and for having a grasp on all its edges. It seems foolish to me to think that young men fascinated by extremism would be rescued from the danger by silence. They’re rescued by reasoned exposure, by the light of truth naming darkness for what it is. It’s a pastor’s responsibility to do this in his congregation. I’m doing that. It’s the LCMS college and seminary professors’ responsibility to do this in the pre-seminary and seminary programs. It seems the more important question for some is not, “Why is Tucker interviewing Fuentes?” but “Are the college and seminary professors doing their jobs?”
And perhaps this is a good place to remind readers of something I asked for at the very start of the original article. I asked for leniency in the communication process. Specifically, I asked the reader to be mindful of “communication missteps common to basic human interaction. Indeed, this topic demands more than care. It requires a listening ear already calibrated toward leniency—with a willingness to admit that not everything is communicated in the best or clearest way that meets everyone.”
I thought the point was a good one. Before I went into the analysis, I admitted that not every sentence can carry its full meaning to every set of ears. Some will hear tone where it was intentionally dry, or offense where there was only observation. Words are imperfect tools, and even careful ones can miss their mark. But the point was that when friends listen to and learn from one another, grace can (and does) fill the gaps that grammar cannot. If someone stumbled over phrasing, I hoped that the friendship would assure leniency. For some, it did. For others, it became the perfect opportunity to attack with a wagging finger.
All of this said, I have one more observation before I need to get going on my day.
I’ll start by saying, when I die, I suspect no one will remember anything I’ve ever said. But I hope they’ll at least remember something about me. They’ll at least be able to say I was never half-cocked in my observations—that I listened before speaking, that I analyzed thoroughly, was reasonable in my responses, did not reply from emotion, and I certainly never stalked the comment sections on Facebook to cry, “Shame on you!” If our age has lost anything, it’s that temperament—the quiet confidence that refuses to confuse emotional moral outrage with moral clarity.
Outrage is easy. Clarity takes work. Again, it’s why I started the original article the way I did. I began by saying, “Slow down. Don’t skim. Read it. We live in an age of headlines and half-quotes, of videos clipped at precisely the point where context and understanding begin. Read. Don’t let nuance be smothered by noise.” But skimming is precisely what many have done. Worst of all, some didn’t even do that. I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve asked, “Have you actually watched the interview?” or “Did you actually read my words?”—only to hear, almost proudly, “No, I didn’t watch it. I’m above that ilk.” Or “No, I didn’t read your words. You’re wrong for even trying.”
They didn’t read. They didn’t listen. They reacted. And they admitted this, still feeling as though they could pass judgment, to lecture others for doing what they themselves refused to do. That’s the irony of the age—outrage without observation, condemnation without comprehension. The same spirit that insists, “Don’t give evil a platform,” continues giving ignorance a pulpit. I would say that’s far more dangerous than a journalistic interview with someone holding terrible ideologies.
Anyway, that’s enough for one morning. I have two sermons to write, confirmation classes to prepare for, and a shut-in visit to make. I pray the Lord’s blessing upon your day. I hope you can pray for the same blessing upon mine.
This is likely to be a long one. Before anything else, I’d ask one thing of anyone reading it. Slow down. Don’t skim. Read it. We live in an age of headlines and half-quotes, of videos clipped at precisely the point where context and understanding begin. Read. Don’t let nuance be smothered by noise. Only in that space will you see what’s happening right now in the controversy surrounding Tucker Carlson. You may discover it isn’t as you’ve been told.
That said, I already know I’m going to upset some friends. But that group will mostly be made up of skimmers—the headline readers, the soundbite sharers, the ones who build entire opinions from fifteen-second clips or out-of-context quotes. And probably those who claim to know me but don’t really. The friends who take time to read thoroughly, to listen to interviews in their entirety, to think through the material—I suspect they’ll at least understand where I’m coming from, even if they don’t entirely agree. Those are also the folks who trust that I have no sinister intentions, and therefore, our friendship is sturdy enough to withstand alternate perspectives, and maybe even the communication missteps common to basic human interaction. Indeed, this topic demands more than care. It requires a listening ear already calibrated toward leniency—with a willingness to admit that not everything is communicated in the best or clearest way that meets everyone.
To start, when the news broke that Tucker Carlson had interviewed Nick Fuentes, it seemed that very few wasted any time in lumping Tucker and Fuentes together. To be fair, little of Fuentes’ most poisonous rhetoric actually appears in the interview itself. His ugliest statements—the ones that earn him regular condemnation—are found elsewhere in his own broadcasts and speeches. Carlson’s interview does not showcase those. There are hints along the way, such as a subtle nod of appreciation for Stalin, as well as specific terms used for Jews in Nazi Germany. Still, for as innocuous as the interview was overall, within hours of its release, my social media feed lit up with headlines branding Tucker as a “white nationalist sympathizer.” I’ve been reading, watching, and listening since then, and I think I understand why this happened. If I’m right, then the branding is unwarranted. Maybe even irrational.
I’ve watched countless clips, both before and after the interview. Tucker is no antisemite. In fact, I lost count during the interview (which I watched in its entirety twice) of how many times he expressed disdain for anyone who judges other human beings according to their DNA. But even beyond the interview, he endlessly condemns (and has for many years) racism and antisemitism. So, then, how did Tucker become the shamed stepchild among conservatives so quickly?
Strangely, it seems to have started with him simply doing what classical journalists are supposed to do. Interestingly, even during the interview, he admits he is at odds with Fuentes and his views. Still, he explained a willingness to explore how Fuentes arrived at those views, thereby giving the viewer a better understanding of Fuentes’ truest self. I’m glad I watched it. I learned a lot about how racists are made. Peripherally, by doing this, those of us who knew little to nothing about Fuentes were educated. This interview sent me searching. I now know more.
But there’s another perspective on this interview. It’s simply that Tucker gave Fuentes a platform, thereby amplifying his ungodly message. It’s a valid concern. But I also think it’s an inconsistent one. Tucker interviewed Putin, too, and the folks attacking him now had very little to say then. That’s revealing. It suggests that the outrage isn’t really about “platforming” at all. It’s about the target of Tucker’s criticism. Many on the right who oppose U.S. support for Ukraine were comfortable with the Putin interview because it fit their foreign-policy skepticism. But when Tucker’s critique ran straight through a cherished position, the same people suddenly discovered a moral objection to interviewing objectionable figures.
While he didn’t use the word, essentially, Tucker expressed theological dissent from dispensationalism and its inevitable political offspring, Christian Zionism. For clarity, Zionism in its plain sense refers to the movement for the reestablishment of a Jewish homeland in the land of ancient Israel. Christian Zionism, however, takes this political aspiration and attaches to it a theological mandate—asserting that the modern State of Israel represents a direct fulfillment of biblical prophecy and that Christians are therefore obligated to support it without reservation. It is this theological extension, not the Jewish people’s right to exist or defend themselves, that Tucker challenges.
Tucker referred to Christian Zionism as “heresy.” He said it very much in passing. Still, an honest listener could not glean from it (nor the context of its usage) that he is attacking the Jewish people themselves, nor the land of Israel. That’s because his critique was not ethnic or geographical. It may be for his opponents. But that’s most likely true because the people watching don’t know the difference between Zionism and Christian Zionism. They certainly don’t know its paternal doctrine, dispensationalism, or what it actually teaches. Tucker may not know the word, but apparently, he knows the difference. He extrapolated that difference repeatedly. I don’t know if he is a devout Episcopalian. But either way, he’s proven a mindful concern for a confused theology that has recast Christianity’s view of who exactly God’s people are.
To take from this interview what it actually gives requires more than clips from Lindsey Graham, Ted Cruz, Ben Shapiro, and so forth. It requires knowledge of what God’s Word has always confessed about Israel, the Church, and God’s promises in Christ.
The Bible, and the historic Church for that matter, have always confessed that the promises of God are fulfilled in Christ, not parceled out along ethnic or national lines. To divide God’s redemptive plan into separate peoples and parallel covenants is to rebuild walls that the cross has already torn down. From all I’ve read and seen, Tucker’s concern is not ethnic animus, but a theological defense of the Gospel’s unity against a relatively recent system that has confused it.
From its earliest days, Christ’s bride, the Church, has understood herself as the continuation and fulfillment of Israel—not its erasure. The Apostle Paul wrote, “For not all who are descended from Israel belong to Israel… It is not the children of the flesh who are the children of God, but the children of the promise” (Romans 9:6-8). That’s Tucker’s position. He’s said as much on countless occasions. He said as much during the interview.
But even beyond Saint Paul, the apostolic witness has never been subtle. The covenant promises to Abraham find their fulfillment in Christ and, therefore, in His Body, the Church, composed of Jew and Gentile alike. Peter preaches this in Acts 2:39 (“the promise is for you and for your children and for all who are far off”), extending Israel’s promise universally through baptism into Christ. The Early Church taught this, too. The Catechetical School of Alexandria (Origen and Cyril), Irenaeus of Lyons, Justin Martyr, Augustine, and later the Reformers all taught this same pattern. Luther taught it. It was taught by Zwingli, Calvin, Bullinger, the Westminster divines, and nearly every Reformed theologian from the 16th to 18th centuries. They all taught that the Church is the true Israel, not because she replaced the Jews, but because she is grafted into the one covenant vine that always pointed to Christ. Justin Martyr wrote in the Dialogue with Trypho: “For the true spiritual Israel… are we who have been led to God through this crucified Christ.” Saint Augustine wrote in City of God (Book 17) that the “promises made to Israel are fulfilled only in Christ; therefore, the Church is the Israel of God.”
Some call this “Replacement Theology.” I had a discussion with my friend Dinesh D’Souza about this the other day. I told him I’ve never liked that term. It has baggage that leads to misrepresentation. The better term is “Supersessionism.” The biblical picture is not replacement but expansion and, ultimately, fulfillment. The root remains Israel. The Gentiles are grafted to it (Romans 11). In fact, Paul reminds his readers explicitly not to forget this, saying, “Remember, it is not you who support the root, but the root that supports you” (Romans 11:18). Of course, Paul’s broader point remains that the tree is continuous. God did not plant a new one. He pruned and grafted, all the while expecting a flowering. Therefore, the Church’s confession of fulfillment could never be anti-Jewish. It’s profoundly inclusive. It invites all nations—including Israel, the root—to locate their identity in the Messiah, Jesus Christ, who came from them. Supersessionism, rightly understood, is not a claim of ethnic superiority, but one that affirms that salvation has always been by grace through faith, and that the wall separating Jew and Gentile has been entirely torn down by the cross.
By contrast, the system Tucker is criticizing—whether or not he names it dispensationalism—attempts to rebuild that wall. In fact, when it comes to racist theologies, dispensationalism is one of the worst. But I’ll get to that in more detail in a second.
In the meantime, just know that dispensationalism is a relatively new concept, and a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of Christians embraced it. It was born in the 1830s. It was another of John Nelson Darby’s concoctions. The Scofield Reference Bible popularized it. The Dallas Theological Seminary, because of its founder and Darby-devotee, Chafer, made it a doctrine. Tent revivals and prophetic speculation spread it. Its key idea was that God has two separate plans—one for Israel (an earthly, national destiny) and another for the Church (a heavenly, spiritual one). Of all the mainstream voices out there, Tucker seems aware that this dual-track theology fragments God’s Word—and ultimately God Himself. The result is false doctrine that equates modern political Israel with biblical Israel, and as such, insists that Christians support every action of political Israel as divinely mandated, no matter what those actions might be.
I support Israel. As a nation of human beings made in God’s image, they have every right to defend themselves. But that does not mean everything about the Israeli state itself carries divine sanction. For example, I read an article yesterday morning devoted to beating up on Tucker. Interestingly, the writer mentioned in passing that democratic socialists (Labor Zionism) founded the political State of Israel. When I dug a little deeper into the claim, I realized the author was right. Is democratic socialism, therefore, divinely sanctioned? It seems the system has largely eroded with time. Still, some of it remains. There are privileges that only ethnically Jewish citizens enjoy that other citizens do not. With that, do we have any reason to be upset that Mamdani, a democratic socialist, is the new mayor of New York City? I tend to think we should be very concerned about democratic socialism. It’s bad news, and we should never let it take hold in America. By the way, did you know abortion is an on-demand service in Israel? Is that divinely sanctioned, too?
Contradictions certainly abound. But consistency is better. Throughout the interview—and in plenty of others—Tucker openly and explicitly insists on consistency. What he appreciates, he supports. What he doesn’t, he criticizes. That’s consistency. And it’s honorable.
I should add that some claim that Carlson accused Israel of “genocide.” In fairness, that’s not quite accurate. A Wikipedia article claims, “During the Gaza war … Carlson … declared Israel guilty of war crimes.” But no evidence is available anywhere to substantiate this. In fact, the searches I did to find out whether this was true all came up as second- and third-hand sources, implying the position rather than sharing explicit transcript evidence. But that, of course, is all it takes these days to cancel anyone. In his interview with Fuentes, Tucker did say that Israel “sometimes acts in genocidal ways,” which is a strong moral indictment. But it’s not the same as declaring that Israel is committing genocide in the literal sense. Outside that exchange, I find no first-source public record of him using the word “genocide” to describe Israel’s actions. His broader criticism has centered on U.S. foreign policy and the moral inconsistency of unconditional support.
Having said all this, for now, Tucker’s relatively simple theological concern is that the barely two-century-old dispensationalism reintroduces the very distinction Christ demolished—the division of peoples before the cross. It recasts the Church not as the fulfillment of Israel, but as a kind of divine intermission until God resumes His “real plan” with ethnic Jews after the rapture (which is another of Darby’s made-up theologies).
The irony here is that those who accuse supersessionism of being racist are defending a theology that is itself inherently racially partitioned.
Repeating myself, dispensationalism explicitly maintains that God has two chosen peoples: the Jews (by race and land) and the Church (by faith). By re-erecting an ethnic boundary between Jew and Gentile, it makes biological descent a continuing theological category—a position the Bible and the Church have forever repudiated.
Again, Saint Paul’s declaration could not be more explicit. He wrote, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). The Church does not replace Israel. She is Israel fulfilled, Israel made whole in her Messiah. In that light, supersessionism is not racist. In fact, it is the most comprehensive abolition of racism ever preached. It destroys the dividing wall and declares all nations equal at the foot of the cross. Dispensationalism, on the other hand, assigns continuing divine privilege to one ethnicity, maintaining two parallel paths of redemption. That is not equality in Christ. It is theological segregation—the same segregation Saint Paul set out to refute in so many places throughout his New Testament writings.
Tucker’s critique of dispensationalism’s child, Christian Zionism, then, is not about hating Israel or Jews. It is about rejecting a theology that distorts the Gospel and politicizes God’s covenant.
Now, here again, is where it gets sticky for some. There remains the “platforming” argument.
Because Fuentes traffics in racial hatred and antisemitism, Tucker’s willingness to interview him has allowed detractors to blur the line between theological debate and moral corruption. Indeed, it must be possible to see Fuentes’ hatred and Tucker’s theological critique as mutually exclusive, right? Again, the Church has always confessed that there is one covenant, one Israel, one Savior. I already mentioned Paul’s explanation that Gentiles are grafted into Israel’s tree (Romans 11:17-24). He affirms that unbelieving Jews can be grafted in only by faith. One tree, not two. Hebrews 8:6-13 makes plain that Christ mediates a new covenant, rendering the old fulfilled and therefore “obsolete.” Saint Peter, applying titles typically set aside for Israel, announces that Christians are “a chosen race, a royal priesthood… once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people” (1 Peter 2:9-10). Texts like these do not annul God’s faithfulness to ethnic Israel. They reveal its goal—the inclusion of all nations in Christ. The Church is not a replacement but a consummation. The promises to Abraham are extended to all who believe. Supersessionism is not a theology of exclusion but of inclusion. It’s the absolute opposite of racism.
Now, I thought I might wrap up here. But I have one more thing to say.
I just returned from teaching a Bible study. It was with a group of ladies that I truly admire. Indeed, they’re thinkers. Essentially, I bounced some of the ideas off of them that I’ve shared openly here with you. While doing this, it seems there was agreement that we live in a theologically illiterate world. Or maybe better said, we live in an age allergic to theological precision. But when a Christian is biblically rooted, he or she becomes theologically literate and, in most cases, historically aware. A theologically literate person is more likely to meet Tucker Carlson’s criticisms through the lens of the Gospel that requires the fullest context. What it will not do is settle itself in slander. When overt racists like Fuentes twist theology to serve their own idols of blood and soil, a theologically literate person will observe the same way, and they’ll discern and rebuke them with the same Word of God coupled with the same rationality.
If anything, the controversy surrounding Carlson and Fuentes is a mirror held up to our confused age. There’s no question that Fuentes believes God hates Jews, and he wants others to think as he does. Tucker understands this. Because of the interview, now many of us understand this, too. But take note that Tucker also disagrees with Fuentes. Now, with that obvious detail behind us, Tucker is asking an entirely different question. Tucker isn’t asking whether God loves Israel. He knows God loves Israel. He has said so countless times. The question is whether Christians actually believe what Jesus said about His flock, namely, “There is one flock, one Shepherd” (John 10:16).
So, to close, let there be no confusion about Fuentes. His views are abhorrent and antithetical to Christianity. If he’s being satirical, as some of his more ardent supporters try to suggest, then I’m completely lost on that humor. I don’t think it’s funny to refer publicly to Jews in derogatory terms or express admiration for Hitler, Stalin, and others who preached and practiced ethnic cleansing. These things are toxic and un-Christian, and they do not belong in our midst.
I don’t think that is in dispute here.
That said, Tucker’s theological critique of dispensationalism remains neither antisemitic nor racist. From what I can tell, his position is only provocative to those who don’t understand what he’s actually saying—or have been influenced by piecemeal snippet campaigns from his opponents. His actual critique is theological. It is nothing more than an extrapolation of the faith of the Church universal. The Church has long confessed that all of God’s promises (including the Old Testament) find their “Yes” and “Amen” in Jesus Christ alone (2 Corinthians 1:20).
That’s not antisemitism. That is the Gospel, plain and simple.
Cruciform Stuff 