Donald Trump’s Easter proclamation—“Melania and I join in prayer with Christians celebrating the crucifixion and resurrection of our Lord and Savior…”—is not a message of faith. It is a masterclass in calculated manipulation, draped in a church bulletin tone to pander to the pews. If you felt something stir when you read it, I assure you—it was not the Holy Spirit. It was the sickly residue of weaponized religious rhetoric. This came from a man whose spiritual compass points only toward power. It also points towards applause.

This is not piety. This is performance. Not devotion, but distraction.

Let us not kid ourselves into thinking Donald Trump spontaneously waxes poetic about Jesus over brunch with Melania. No. Every syllable, every well-timed pause, every biblical reference is strategically manufactured. It is not a prayer. It is a press release. It is like a televangelist wiping crocodile tears with a donation envelope. However, this preacher is a thrice-married casino mogul with a fondness for golden toilets and hush money payments.

We are talking about a man who once asked if “Two Corinthians” was a book of the Bible. He questioned whether it might be a Eurovision duet. A man held a Bible upside down in front of a church he did not attend. He ordered tear gas be used on peaceful protesters—some of whom were actual clergy. Let us not forget, this is a man who skipped putting his hand on the Bible when sworn in as President. Now he wants to cosplay as a spiritual shepherd during Holy Week.

If Jesus were flipping tables in temples today, Trump would sell tickets to the spectacle. He would charge extra for a MAGA-branded fish sandwich.

Every single thing Trump says is part of a narcissistic strategy. He is not trying to unite. He is not trying to uplift. He is attempting to provoke. He wants to dominate the narrative. He seeks to bask in the reaction. Whether that reaction is cheers, boos, lawsuits, or indictments does not matter—attention is the altar at which he worships. And Holy Week, to him, is not about the resurrection of Christ—it is about the resurrection of his poll numbers.

Because Trump, at his core, is not religious. He is not Christian. He is not moral. He is not ethical. He is not even spiritual in the “crystals and sage” sense. He is a reality show villain turned demagogue. His greatest belief is that he himself is a chosen one—untouchable and infallible. He thinks he is owed adoration by the masses he so openly disrespects.

Let us not forget. This is a man who was found liable for sexual abuse. He bragged about assaulting women on a hot mic. He habitually cheats like most people breathe. This is the same man who spouted faux-reverent Easter sentiments during the same week that he said again that he would like to deport American citizens. He wants to send them to a foreign gulag. Jesus wept, indeed.

When Trump says “freed us from sin,” what he means is: keep forgiving me no matter what I do. He thrives on the transactional nature of American evangelicalism: sin boldly, repent performatively, and cash in at the ballot box. He knows that many voters care more about tone and tribe than truth. And so, he slips on the sheep’s wool and grins at the wolves.

He does not pray. He plots.

He does not kneel in humility. He postures in hunger.

He does not fear God. He fears irrelevance.

There is something profoundly grotesque about seeing the sacredness of Holy Week exploited as a political branding opportunity. But that is Trump’s talent: alchemizing solemnity into spectacle. This is a man who would auction off a piece of the True Cross. He would do it just to boost his brand for a week. He would also do it if it came with a photo op at Mar-a-Lago.

His audience? They are a mix of the willfully blind. They also include the righteously afraid and the cynically transactional. These are people who want their politics blessed. They desire their biases baptized, and their power affirmed. And Trump, ever the charlatan, offers exactly that. A prosperity gospel for the politically resentful. A messiah complex for the morally bankrupt.

So no, Donald Trump did not write that Easter message with any sense of reverence. It was not spiritual reflection—it was social media strategy. Staff crafted it. Legal reviewed it. The message was optimized for engagement. Finally, it was regurgitated like a communion wafer made of ego and grift. The only resurrection Trump genuinely celebrates is the resurrection of his polling momentum. He also celebrates his ability to make headlines for free.

And let us be brutally honest:

If Jesus returned today preaching peace and compassion, Trump would call him a radical. Jesus’s rejection of earthly wealth would make him a socialist threat to American freedom. He would try to ban Jesus from entering the country without paperwork. Then, he would accuse him of voter fraud.

This Easter message is not an affirmation of faith. It is a test of gullibility. A challenge to see how many people will swallow the sanctimonious sludge and say, “He really gets us.” But Trump does not get you. He uses you.

He sells salvation in soundbites.

He rebrands Jesus like a slogan.

He clutches the Bible like a prop and discards it like a receipt.

We should all be alarmed that in 2025, we are still expected to pretend this man has any spiritual authority. We should be deeply concerned that religion—once a moral compass—is being bent into a campaign slogan. That faith has become a stage for political theater. That Easter is a time of introspection and grace. It is being hijacked by a man whose idea of repentance is blocking witnesses and lying under oath.

Trump’s entire existence is a celebration of the unholy trinity: attention, adoration, and absolution without accountability.

Holy Week is about death, redemption, and resurrection. Trump’s version is just marketing. Death to truth. Redemption without remorse. Resurrection of political toxicity.

And the crowd goes wild.