(a case study)
Building upon the lessons from Gethsemane, we observe that contemporary figures like Joel Webbon and Calvin Robinson may be repeating similar mistakes, allowing fervor to overshadow discernment…
Two Christian Nationalists in
a conversation about those ‘evil Jews’, what else is new 😑
I need to take up my sword 🙏
Preamble
While I am not an advocate of Anglican Bishop N.T. Wright and the New Perspective on Paul ‘movement,’ I acknowledge his effort to situate Paul—the Pharisee—within his Jewish context, even though he ultimately interprets it through the expansive lens of ecclesiology, tethered to ‘covenantal nomism’ in the name of Christendom. Although his applications may fall short, Wright attempts to address the reality that Paul did not emerge from a vacuum, nor was he a proto-Protestant debating medieval Rome. In this regard, Father Calvin Robinson could benefit from observing how a subtle supersessionist like Bishop Wright engages in debate with Marc Kinzer a very intelligent and humble Messianic Jew, as they are commonly known.
As a staunch covenant theologian, I align with the Magisterial Reformers and later Protestant scholastics in their stance against Rome. However, my understanding of covenant theology transcends 16th-century categories and politics. In light of the following discussion, it’s imperative to emphasize that the Abrahamic Covenant stands as the foundational covenant explicitly named in Scripture. From this covenant, the Mosaic Covenant emerges, functioning as a pedagogue guiding a nascent spiritual nation, as elucidated in Galatians 3 and 4. The subsequent exile, resulting from the breach of this covenant, was addressed by the LORD through Jeremiah’s proclamation of a New Covenant, extending the revelation at Mount Sinai to all nations, including those symbolically represented by Edom.
For over two millennia, Christendom has often acted not as the faithful remnant of Israel’s promise but as Edom—its arrogant rival, claiming inheritance while betraying the covenant. The prophet Obadiah’s vision was not merely a condemnation of ancient Edom’s treachery but a recurring pattern, stretching through the rise and fall of empires that claimed divine sanction while trampling God’s purposes. Imperial Spain, with its forced conversions, expulsions, and Inquisitorial zeal, exemplified this Edomite posture, exalting itself while persecuting the very people who bore the oracles of God (Romans 3:2).
This pattern extends beyond Spain, manifesting in every imperial iteration of Christianity that has sought dominion through coercion rather than covenant faithfulness. It is no different today. The modern heirs of Christendom’s broken vision—figures like Joel Webbon and Calvin Robinson—continue to prop up a theology of territorial conquest, dressing up old supersessionist errors in the language of Reformed piety. Like Edom, they assume a birthright that was never theirs to seize, twisting the Abrahamic blessing into a mandate for dominion rather than discipleship.
Yet Obadiah’s warning remains: “Though you soar aloft like the eagle, though your nest is set among the stars, from there I will bring you down” (Obadiah 1:4). The arrogance of Edom—whether in ancient Idumea, Rome, imperial Spain, or modern Christendom—will not stand. What Webbon and Robinson fail to see is that the kingdom of God is not a political empire to be reclaimed, but a covenantal reality already unfolding, calling for humility, not hubris. Their desire to wield power over others is the surest sign that they have misunderstood the very gospel they claim to defend.
Displays of arrogance, such as those observed in the following inter actions, can hinder genuine understanding and reconciliation. It is the Abrahamic Covenant alone that makes sense of the others promulgated in traditional Reformed Theology, revealing them as projections that preach, each unfolding within its own typology but never replacing the foundation upon which they stand “to bless many nations” as the prescription. I have no problem with the Reformed posits as descriptive. Nevertheless, ‘idealogy’ comes to mind over a simple Bible reading.
For over two millennia, Christendom has often acted not as the faithful remnant of Israel’s promise but as Edom—its arrogant rival, claiming inheritance while betraying the covenant. The prophet Obadiah’s vision was not merely a condemnation of ancient Edom’s treachery but a recurring pattern, stretching through the rise and fall of empires that claimed divine sanction while trampling God’s purposes. Imperial Spain, with its forced conversions, expulsions, and Inquisitorial zeal, exemplified this Edomite posture, exalting itself while persecuting the very people who bore the oracles of God (Romans 3:2).
This pattern extends beyond Spain, manifesting in every imperial iteration of Christianity that has sought dominion through coercion rather than covenant faithfulness. It is no different today. The modern heirs of Christendom’s broken vision—figures like Joel Webbon and Calvin Robinson—continue to prop up a theology of territorial conquest, dressing up old supersessionist errors in the language of Reformed piety. Like Edom, they assume a birthright that was never theirs to seize, twisting the Abrahamic blessing into a mandate for dominion rather than discipleship.
Yet Obadiah’s warning remains: “Though you soar aloft like the eagle, though your nest is set among the stars, from there I will bring you down” (Obadiah 1:4). The arrogance of Edom—whether in ancient Idumea, Rome, imperial Spain, or modern Christendom—will not stand. What Webbon and Robinson fail to see is that the kingdom of God is not a political empire to be reclaimed, but a covenantal reality already unfolding, calling for humility, not hubris. Their desire to wield power over others is the surest sign that they have misunderstood the very gospel they claim to defend.
Displays of arrogance, such as those observed in the following inter actions, can hinder genuine understanding and reconciliation. It is the Abrahamic Covenant alone that makes sense of the others promulgated in traditional Reformed Theology, revealing them as projections that preach, each unfolding within its own typology but never replacing the foundation upon which they stand “to bless many nations” as the prescription. I have no problem with the Reformed posits as descriptive. Nevertheless, ‘idealogy’ comes to mind over a simple Bible reading.
Is this for real? Is this really the state of Christian discourse?
In a recent interview, two men—one fresh off the boat from Britain, and the other who comes off as a ‘self-styled used car salesman’ named Joel Webbon of ‘Right Response Ministries’—sat down to discuss “the Jews,” covenant, and Christianity’s future.
What followed was not theological engagement but historical butchery; not careful reasoning but caricature; not a pursuit of truth but a regurgitation of the same tired tropes that have fueled centuries of ignorance, division, and hatred—even culminating in the Holocaust.
Disturbingly, Webbon has expressed uncertainty about the Holocaust’s death toll, stating, “I don’t know,” when asked how many Jews died, and suggesting he doesn’t have a position on the exact number. Again is this for real? Come on man! Jews were killed, it happened! — enough said.
His smooth rhetoric and evasive answers seemed to resonate with his British counterpart, who appeared eager to find common ground inviting him on his ‘Bros with Fros’ podcast and starting off with an easy target of the evil Zionist State’s latest attrocity bombing a church building. Jumping right into his rhetorical invective with equating Judaism to the Zionists and claiming the relgion is also evil. Webbon was at no loss of his audacity. What a conflation of collective ignorance!
However like a used car salesman, Webbon was not only there to discuss such a topic but to pitch. The product? American Christian Nationalism, freshly ‘detailed’ in his version of theonomist rhetoric but barely concealing the raw political ambition underneath. He was not offering biblical covenantal faithfulness—he was selling territorial theology, where Christianity seems in his mind more in standing strong in the cultures wars.
And Robinson? Fresh off the boat from Britain, disoriented, excommunicated, searching for a way to reclaim a Christianity that once defined his homeland but is now crumbling under secular weight.
He is still adjusting to the strange evangelical climate of America, trying to make sense of what he has stepped into. He is not sure if he should ‘look under the hood’ at what Webbon is selling, but he listens, absorbing, hesitating, ‘kicking the tires.’
In the midst of their evil disclosure: neither of them actually understands the covenant they claim to defend.
Joel Webbon’s Theocratic Fantasy—A Kingdom of His Own Making
Webbon is not merely mistaken—he is an anachronism. He identifies as a covenant theologian, yet he disregards the very covenant established by God. He professes to defend Christian civilization, yet he emulates the territorial obsessions of pagan nations.
He seeks theonomy without covenant, law without faithfulness, dominion without discipleship. He aims to establish what Christ already reigns over—but on his own terms.
Herein lies his self-contradiction—his entire movement would not exist without the pluralistic America he seeks to dismantle. The religious liberty he despises is the very foundation that allowed his reactionary movement to arise. The irony is palpable.
But Webbon’s greatest error? He does not comprehend who the true heirs of the covenant are.
The New Testament never advocates for Christian dominion over nations, yet Webbon behaves as if the Great Commission were a territorial conquest. The apostles never speak of replacing Israel—Paul explicitly warns against Gentile arrogance (Romans 11:18–21).
If Webbon approached Romans 11 with due reverence, he would realize he is embodying the very hubris Paul cautioned against—a Gentile ‘full of himself.’
Robinson’s Christendom Nostalgia—A Man Without a Country
Then there’s Calvin Robinson—a man caught between worlds.
He has left behind British Christendom, where Christianity was institutional, cultural, and assumed. Now, he finds himself in American evangelicalism, where Christianity is often superficial, politicized, and reactionary.
His discomfort is evident—his Anglican instincts clash with his newfound Reformed influences. He senses something amiss but lacks the theological foundation to articulate it. He listens, absorbs, hesitates.
The dilemma? Robinson is ensnared between two failed Christendoms.
One that is already defunct in Britain, and another teetering in America—yet Webbon and his followers believe it can be resurrected.
Had Robinson a grasp of history, he would recognize this predicament.
The reality is: Americans have already learned from British Christendom.
We witnessed the consequences when its bishops attempted to govern us. We observed the downfall when it merged church and state, collapsing under its own weight.
That’s why we had a revolution. That’s why we severed ties. The English even dubbed it a ‘Presbyterian’ revolution due to the influence of the Scotch-Irish, whose decentralized resistance was reminiscent of their own struggles.
Both sides cherished human freedom, yet political religion distorted biblical truth. The colonies’ autonomy is paramount here, and William Penn’s vision offers a viable path forward.
Now, in a perverse twist of history, Webbon attempts to sell Robinson a failing version of federalized Christendom, cloaked in red, white, and blue.
The Federalist Founders, along with religious and denominational colonial state charters, would have unequivocally rejected such centralization long ago.
If Robinson possessed wisdom, he would also reject it outright and perhaps embrace a free-episcopalian stance, upholding the 39 Articles through love and sacrifice to his fellow man.
Jealous of the State of Israel? The Girardian Trap They Cannot Escape
In their discourse and beneath the surface, Webbon and Robinson exhibit a profound envy toward the State of Israel. They see a nation-state that unapologetically upholds its religious and ethnic identity, defends itself, and endures opposition. Confronted with the decline of Western Christendom, they long to emulate the Zionists.
However, such envy often leads not to the adoption of virtues but to the justification of resentment. The rhetoric they employ—lamenting Christian weakness and desiring a strong, theocratic order—has historically been used to justify violence. This mimetic cycle has incited Israel’s neighbors to rage against it, leading to wars, terror, and even genocide.
Ironically, the Irgun, a Zionist paramilitary organization active during the British Mandate of Palestine, employed tactics similar to those of groups they now oppose, such as Hamas. As noted in Haaretz News, the Irgun’s operations included acts that would be considered terrorism today. This historical precedent underscores the complexity of labeling and the cyclical nature of violence.
In modern Hebrew, the word “חָמָס” (pronounced “hamas”) translates to “violence,” “wrong,” or “cruelty.” This term appears multiple times in the Hebrew Bible, such as in Genesis 6:11: “Now the earth was corrupt in God’s sight, and the earth was filled with violence [חָמָס].”
In contrast, in Arabic, “Hamas” is an acronym for “Harakat al-Muqawamah al-Islamiyya,” meaning “The Islamic Resistance Movement.” The Arabic word “hamas” also translates to “zeal,” “bravery,” or “strength.”
While the Hebrew and Arabic terms share similar pronunciations, their meanings differ, reflecting the distinct linguistic and cultural contexts of each language. But where did this start? Who named whom?
Just as Christendom has often taken on the role of Edom—exalting itself while betraying the covenant—the modern State of Israel has done the same. Far from being the prophetic fulfillment of Israel’s restoration, it has become a political entity wielding power through the very means that Scripture condemns. Like Edom, it has sought security through military strength, territorial expansion, and political machinations rather than covenantal faithfulness. The irony is striking: those who claim to carry Israel’s inheritance have instead followed the path of Esau, choosing empire over exile, coercion over calling.
Yet Obadiah’s warning applies here as well: “Because of the violence done to your brother Jacob, shame shall cover you, and you shall be cut off forever” (Obadiah 1:10). The State of Israel, in aligning itself with the patterns of Edom, does not represent the covenantal people of God but a secular-nationalist project that mirrors Christendom’s failed theopolitical ambitions. And just as imperial Christendom has been brought low, so too will any state that exalts itself in defiance of God’s justice.
The occupier did not emerge from a vacuum! The State of Israel is just not only Edom it is filled with Gog of the Apocalypse. Is this what Webbon has invoked?
“ When you are arguing against Him (and His relgion) you are arguing against the very power that makes you able to argue at all: it is like cutting off the branch you are sitting on.” C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (1952)
Micah 4:5—The True Path of the Covenant
Webbon and Robinson are walking in the name of power.
They are walking in the name of conquest.
They are walking in the name of resentment.
But we will walk in the name of the Lord.
Webbon and Robinson are walking in the name of power.
They are walking in the name of conquest.
They are walking in the name of resentment.
But we will walk in the name of the Lord.
“For all the peoples walk each in the name of its god, but we will walk in the name of the Lord our God forever and ever.” (Micah 4:5)
• Not in the name of Christian nationalism.
• Not in the name of reclaiming state power.
• Not in the name of resentment and rivalry.
We walk in the name of the covenant, in the name of the true kingdom—one that does not belong to America or Britain or any other earthly nation.
Webbon and Robinson can argue over who should hold power.
Webbon can obsess over law while ignoring the covenant.
Robinson can lament Christendom’s collapse while trying to find his place in America.
But we will walk in the name of the Lord our God, forever and ever.
And until they see that, they will remain what they are—two ships in the night, searching for a harbor that does not exist.
Because Christendom has fallen.
But the Kingdom of God will stand forever.
