There Will Be Blood When Capitalism Claims The Cross

Scene from There Will Be Blood showing a man watching an oil derrick explode into flames shaped like a cross, symbolizing the unholy alliance of capitalism and religion. — Image created by DALL·E

Oil, Faith, and the American Dream

It always ends in the bowling alley. Two men. One lane. One of them bleeding out on the polished wood while the other mutters, “I’m finished.”

If you’ve seen There Will Be Blood, you know the scene. If you haven’t, it’s the most honest altar call American religion has ever offered, and it ends with blood on the floor. Daniel Plainview—capitalism incarnate—finally does what he’s been itching to do all along: eliminate Eli Sunday, the self-anointed preacher who thought he could ride oil’s coattails to glory.

It’s a perfect metaphor for the unholy alliance between American religion and capitalism. They’re not equal partners. They never have been. Christian nationalism in 2025 is just Eli Sunday in a red tie—swaggering into the bowling alley thinking it’s in charge, not realizing whose house it’s in.

And right now? Christian nationalism is horned-up and half-dressed, willing to dry hump any policy that promises power. It’s blessing every oil well, corporate tax cut, and billionaire’s yacht in exchange for influence. But the thing about crawling into bed with capitalism is that eventually, someone wants to be on top—and capitalism never lets you forget who’s daddy.

False Brotherhood

On paper, the partnership works. Oil needs blessing. Blessings need oil money. The pulpit wraps corporate greed in scripture like a televangelist wrapping a Learjet in Jesus’ name. Everybody smiles for the photo op.

In the ’50s, corporate America draped itself in the Bible and the flag. Billy Graham became the PR guy for America’s “Christian nation” branding. Fast-forward, and we’ve swapped the tent revival for the megachurch, and the handshake deal now includes policy-making. The prosperity gospel is Eli Sunday with a media team, turning pulpits into infomercials for God’s luxury plan.

Christian nationalism takes the same deal today: it blesses deregulation, tax breaks for the wealthy, privatized education, and voter suppression, as long as those with the money promise to protect “Christian values.” Dobbs v. Jackson? That’s just oil’s way of keeping the preacher in the tent, convinced he’s the one with the power.

But here’s the truth: this partnership is a prenup written by capitalism. And in that prenup, capitalism keeps the assets.

There Can Only Be One Daddy

Christian nationalism believes it’s calling the shots because it’s dictating moral policy right now—banning books, policing bodies, and turning the state into an enforcer of its culture-war dogma. But policy victories don’t make you daddy, because someone else is drinking your milkshake.

Capitalism preaches profit, and profit always preaches louder. When those “moral victories” start hurting the bottom line, watch how fast CEOs find a new congregation. Hobby Lobby and Chick-fil-A aren’t temples—they’re businesses that sell faith as a brand enhancer. When that brand stops converting to sales, they’ll pivot faster than a megachurch pastor caught on camera with his “prayer partner.”

In the real power dynamic, Christian nationalism is just a contractor—cheap labor for a bigger corporate build. Pastors think they’re generals in a culture war, but they’re actually middle management.

The Inevitable Breakup

Eli Sunday’s death isn’t a plot twist—it’s the natural conclusion. Capitalism doesn’t keep liabilities on payroll. When religion stops delivering votes, stops distracting the masses, or starts costing money, capitalism will cut it loose.

We’ve already seen the cracks. Church attendance is cratering, especially among younger generations. Scandals have made pastors toxic spokespeople. And every time a church turns into a political PAC with a cross on top, it loses whatever moral credibility it had left. Eventually, even capitalism will find the baggage too heavy to carry.

The “bowling pin moment” could come as a tax-exemption repeal. Or a financial collapse of the Christian media empire. Or a slow cultural fade into irrelevance, where the pews are empty but the Starbucks across the street is packed. However it comes, it will be quick, brutal, and final.

And like Eli, Christian nationalism will be left sputtering, “I’m your friend, Daniel,” while capitalism wipes its hands and says, “I’m finished.”

Don’t Bet Against the Bowling Alley Owner

Jesus warned you: you can’t serve God and mammon. Mammon doesn’t compromise. Mammon doesn’t co-parent. Mammon owns the lanes, the pins, and the ball return.

The only ones pretending otherwise are the churches still playing in someone else’s bowling alley, convinced they’re running the league. They’re not. They’re just another customer who will be told to leave when their time is up.

When the pins are cleared and the scoreboard goes dark, capitalism will still own the building. Religion? It’ll be bleeding out in the gutter, still clutching its Bible, asking why the market left it for dead.