In the autumn of 410 A.D., as Visigoths sacked Rome, Augustine of Hippo retreated to his North African study and penned City of God, a towering defense of Christianity against pagan accusations that the faith had invited imperial collapse.

Buried in its pages, however, was a theological time bomb: the notion that the Church had superseded Israel as God’s chosen people, rendering Jews perpetual wanderers, cursed for rejecting Christ. This “Replacement Theology,” as it came to be known, didn’t just reshape Christian doctrine. It birthed a strain of antisemitism that echoed through cathedrals, pogroms, and—now, in 2025—into the fevered discourse of American conservatism, where it no longer spares only Jews.

It is turning on Christians themselves, particularly those who, in the spirit of dispensationalism, dare to defend Israel and the Jewish people. The recent interview between Tucker Carlson and the far-right activist Nick Fuentes, aired on Carlson’s podcast on October 27, crystallized this shift. In a conversation that drew over four million views on YouTube, Carlson didn’t just platform Fuentes, a Holocaust denier and self-avowed admirer of Adolf Hitler, he joined him in scorning “Christian Zionists”—evangelical supporters of Israel—as victims of a “brain virus,” a pathology worse than any other ideological affliction.

The exchange, which has fractured the right—from Ben Shapiro’s blistering rebuke of Carlson as an “intellectual coward” to the Heritage Foundation’s initial defense of the host, followed by an apology from its president, Kevin Roberts—exposes a chilling evolution.

What began as Augustine’s allegorical sleight of hand, recasting biblical promises to Israel as metaphors for the Church, has metastasized into a modern venom that now devours its own. Dispensational Christians—those who, drawing from a literal reading of Scripture, affirm God’s ongoing covenant with the Jewish people and Israel’s future restoration—are no longer mere theological outliers.

They are enemies in the eyes of a resurgent antisemitic fringe. Augustine’s City of God didn’t invent antisemitism; it sanctified it. Writing amid Rome’s fall, he argued that the Jews’ exile was divine retribution for deicide, their dispersion a perpetual sermon on Christian superiority. “The Jews who slew Him…are thus by their own Scriptures a testimony to us that we have not forged the prophecies about Christ,” he wrote, transforming historical grievance into eternal curse.

This supersessionism—later enshrined in medieval Church councils and Luther’s venomous tracts—framed Jews as Christ-killers, outsiders to salvation. It justified the Crusades’ massacres, the Inquisition’s expulsions, and the blood libels that stained Europe. By the 20th century, it seeped into Nazi rhetoric, where “Christian” intellectuals cited Augustine to portray Jews as a cosmic threat.

Today, in 2025, this legacy manifests not in torches and pitchforks but in algorithms and airwaves. Protests against Israel’s war in Gaza have spiked global antisemitic incidents by 340 percent, according to the Anti-Defamation League, with synagogues vandalized from New York to Paris. On college campuses and in online echo chambers, the old trope endures: Jews as manipulators, Israel as a colonial aggressor.

But the Carlson-Fuentes dialogue reveals the doctrine’s next frontier. Fuentes and Carlson didn’t limit their ire to Jews. He and Carlson reserved special contempt for Christian Zionists—many of them dispensationalists—who see Israel’s 1948 rebirth as prophetic fulfillment, a sign of end-times restoration. Dispensationalism insists on a literal interpretation of prophecy: God’s covenants with Abraham and David remain intact, promising land, nationhood, and spiritual renewal for Israel.

This view, embraced by tens of millions of evangelicals, undergirds political support for Israel—from the Trump administration’s Jerusalem embassy move to Huckabee’s ambassadorship. To Fuentes and his ilk, it’s not just misguided; it’s treasonous idolatry, a “brain virus” that prioritizes Jews over “real” Christians. Carlson’s agreement—“I dislike them more than anyone”—signals a broader backlash. On platforms like X, posts amplifying the interview have surged, with one viral clip declaring, “I hate Christian Zionists more than anybody,” racking up thousands of engagements.

This isn’t abstract theology. It’s a harbinger. The antisemitism Augustine seeded is now a boomerang, striking those Christians who refuse to join the chorus. In the interview, Fuentes framed Christian Zionism as a betrayal of white, Christian identity, echoing Replacement Theology’s core lie: that God abandoned Israel, transferring blessings to a “spiritual” heir—the Church, or in Fuentes’s case, a mythic ethno-state.

Critics like Shapiro warn that normalizing such views invites “white supremacists who hate…many types of Christians,”a prophecy already unfolding. Evangelical leaders report harassment: death threats to pastors preaching Israel’s restoration, doxxing of congregants attending pro-Israel rallies. The Republican Jewish Coalition called the Heritage defense “appalled, offended and disgusted,” but the real peril is internal: a conservative movement splintering, where defending Jews makes one complicit in the “virus.”

Yet Scripture, in its unyielding literalism, dismantles this narrative. Zechariah 14, a post-exilic vision of apocalyptic fury, stands as divine rebuttal: God has not forsaken Israel. “Behold, the day of the Lord cometh,” the prophet declares, “and thy spoil shall be divided in the midst of thee. For I will gather all nations against Jerusalem to battle; and the city shall be taken… Then shall the Lord go forth, and fight against those nations, as when he fought in the day of battle. And his feet shall stand in that day upon the mount of Olives” (Zechariah 14:1–4, KJV).

This is no allegory. It’s cataclysm: a global coalition besieging Jerusalem, the city sacked, its people ravaged. But God intervenes—not for the Church’s sake, but Israel’s. The Mount of Olives cleaves, a topographic miracle heralding Christ’s return. A plague consumes the invaders: “Their flesh shall consume away while they stand upon their feet” (Zechariah 14:12). Living waters flow from Jerusalem, and “the Lord shall be king over all the earth” (Zechariah 14:9).

This is restoration, not replacement—Israel at history’s pivot, redeemed amid trial. Augustine’s curse crumbles here; God fights for His people, Jewish and grafted-in alike. In 2025, as Carlson’s words ripple through MAGA circles and Heritage reels from its own misstep, the warning is clear: the antisemitism Augustine unleashed devours indiscriminately. It began with Jews, scapegoated as eternal villains. Now it eyes Christian Zionists—dispensational defenders of a biblical promise—as greater foes. Fuentes’s “love” for discourse masks a fascist core; Carlson’s platforming, a flirtation with fire.

But Zechariah’s vision endures: the nations may gather, but the Lord stands with Jerusalem. For Christians today, the choice is stark—echo Augustine’s shadow, or heed the prophet’s light. History, and heaven, will judge.

Don’t forget to Subscribe for Updates. Also, Follow Us at Society-Reviews, YouTube,  Twitter, Odysee, Rumble, and Twitch