As Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton ramps up his Senate campaign against James Talarico, he and his party have dug in to “othering” the fresh-faced Democrat. Paxton’s reference to his opponent as “Talafreako” pretty much sums up the GOP’s Manosphere-coded attack strategy. 

Adhering to the script, White House deputy chief of staff Stephen Miller has alleged that Talarico is the Democrats’ “first transgender Senate candidate.” Others have dubbed him Gaydo O’Rourke — a reference to failed 2018 Democratic senate candidate Beto O’Rourke. (This malicious queering of Talarico has been undercut somewhat by photos that circulated of him and his girlfriend). With the dignity that befits their offices, President Donald Trump and Paxton held up images comparing the former schoolteacher to Mad Magazine’s Alfred E. Neuman.

Republicans doing opposition research are likely going to fixate on one quality that distinguishes him from nearly every other non-Black Democratic candidate in the 21st century.

Transphobic, homophobic, sophomoric and, yes, Tofu-based taunts will undoubtedly gain traction among some sectors of Texas’ conservative electorate. But in the coming months, Republicans doing opposition research are likely going to fixate on one quality that distinguishes him from nearly every other non-Black Democratic candidate in the 21st century. That’s because James Talarico is a seminarian. 

His pursuit of a Masters of Divinity (which is temporarily on hold during his candidacy) creates a seemingly irresistible target for his Republican detractors — not because of his religion, but because of how he engages critically with religious text and theory and then stumps about it on the campaign trail.

To understand why this mix is so volatile, we need to understand what happens in the hothouse atmosphere of a theological seminary — and I want to be clear that I mean any seminary, be it Presbyterian (such as Talarico’s), Pentecostal, Jewish, Southern Baptist, etc. 

Seminaries are where the intellectuals of any given religious faith wrestle with the meanings of their sacred texts with fierce energy, depth, creativity and intensity. Seminaries are also places where religious intellectuals sometimes get into big doctrinal trouble. Early in my career, when I was a biblical scholar, I taught at various Christian and Jewish seminaries. What stunned me was how often students and faculty would drift, or even charge, into discussions that even their co-religionists might consider heretical. 

It is not uncommon for theologians to be expelled from their own institutions for assorted crimes of heresy. It happens at Southern Baptist seminaries, Presbyterian seminaries, Evangelical seminaries, a seminary associated with the Restoration Movement — and those are just cases that didn’t get swept under the rug, as most of these incidents are. When what is said in a seminary gets beyond the campus gate, it tends to bewilder laypersons. Put it this way: If Paxton were a seminarian he too would probably have expressed a mess of seemingly strange and unpopular ideas.

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But Paxton isn’t a seminarian, now is he? Talarico is, and true to form he has articulated theological precepts that might strike outsiders, especially ones with little formal religious education, as sacrilegious.

The ever-ecumenical Talarico told Ezra Klein he believes “all faith traditions are circling the same truth.” In conversation with Joe Rogan, he argued the Book of Leviticus doesn’t necessarily condemn homosexuality. 

He has interpreted Scripture in a pro-choice direction, suggesting that the gospel of Luke validates that a woman must consent to give birth. Talarico says he believes God is non-binary — a claim that his conservative critics gleefully quote and re-quote. Only a license to frack the earth under every research university in America could make them happier. 

Talarico may be voicing orthodox precepts of his mainline Presbyterian faith. Or maybe he’s veering off-script. None of that matters to GOP operatives. What interests them is a theology that, if properly framed, will sound blasphemous to Evangelical ears, and ideally to other ears as well. Republicans have already smeared him as demonic, a heretic, the antichrist and a servant of Moloch. And we’re just getting started.

In my opinion, Talarico shouldn’t let this change his approach. After all, his identity as a white Bible-thumper is what radically distinguishes him from his Democratic forebears who haven’t won a Texas statewide office in more than three decades. 

He will need to make a compelling theo-political case to Latino Catholics (who comprise roughly 18% of Texas’ population) and Black Protestants (who comprise 8%). My hunch is that while the latter will be generally receptive to his progressive religious message, serious work needs to be done among the former. (As for Latino Evangelicals, Talarico’s candidacy is probably a lost cause). The challenge will be to find convincing ways to weld his religious beliefs, whose electoral vulnerabilities are being amplified by Republicans, to his extremely popular anti-corruption, anti-billionaire, and affordability agendas. 

Can it work in ruby red Texas? God only knows. But I do know that relentless mockery of Talarico’s beliefs by members of the GOP belies its claim to be the faith-friendly party. Its reverence for “religion” is really about reverence for conservative Protestantism (including strategic collaborations with traditionalist Catholics, Mormons and Orthodox Jews). All other creeds, including non-Evangelical forms of Protestantism such as Talarico’s, are treated as inferior, un-American and unworthy of governmental favor. 

No matter what the fate of Talarico’s candidacy, it will prove, yet again, how parochial, self-serving and disingenuous the Republican Party’s efforts to put God back into American public life actually are.