A 2021 podcast recording has resurfaced in which Texas Democratic U.S. Senate candidate James Talarico told a transgender activist theologian that he thinks of himself as "a Christian who hates Christianity", a remark now drawing sharp responses from the Republican National Committee and his general-election opponent, Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton.

The interview, recorded on the "Activist Theology Podcast" hosted by Roberto Che Espinoza, described as a transgender-identifying author, and Rev. Anna Golladay, a progressive minister now running for Congress in Tennessee as a Democrat, captured Talarico making a series of statements about his faith, his racial identity, and his Republican colleagues that sit uneasily alongside his campaign's carefully cultivated image as a devout Christian seminarian.

Democrats have pinned considerable hopes on Talarico to flip one of Texas's Senate seats blue for the first time in decades. But the resurfaced audio, amplified by the RNC's research arm, threatens to undercut that pitch in a state where Christian voters form a decisive share of the electorate.

What Talarico said on the podcast

The remarks, first reported in detail by Fox News Digital, show the state lawmaker opening the interview by gushing over Espinoza's work. Talarico told the hosts:

"I couldn't contain my inner fanboy because I had read your book last year, and it continues to inspire me, and y'all's work continues to inspire me."

He then described his own faith background as rooted in a "Christian anarchist tradition" and introduced himself as a "boring, cis-white man," quipping that he "added Presbyterian to spice it up."

The most politically charged moment came when Talarico offered his self-assessment as a believer. He told the hosts:

"I always think of myself as a Christian who hates Christianity. I always get drawn back into it because nowhere else, in no other political philosophy and no other economic theory do I find anything nearly as truly radical or revolutionary as the teachings of that barefoot Rabbi."

That framing, Christianity as a "political philosophy" and "economic theory" rather than a faith, will strike many Texas churchgoers as telling. Talarico also told the podcast hosts he believed the teachings of Christ are similar to "the teachings of the Buddha and other mystical traditions." This is not the language of a man running on orthodox Christian conviction. It is the language of a man who views religion as a toolkit for progressive politics.

Talarico's comments about his own identity went further. He said his "imagination" was "limited by my own background and identity, my whiteness, my masculinity," and that he had to "continually press against that to try to expand the limits of what I'm dreaming of for our community." Breitbart reported that Talarico also praised his mentor, Presbyterian minister Jim Rigby, as a "true white traitor" during the same interview.

This is not the first time Talarico's past statements have drawn scrutiny. He has previously described God as "nonbinary" and has faced questions over his characterization of Jesus as a "barefoot rabbi" and his push for federal land leases for abortion access.

Republicans respond

RNC spokesman Zach Kraft did not hold back in a statement to Fox News Digital:

"James Talarico is a wolf in sheep's clothing, who has made it clear he intends to destroy Texans' way of life and replace it with his woke socialist utopia where there are six genders, a Green New Deal, and a non-binary God."

The reference to "six genders" draws on a prior Talarico claim that has already circulated in conservative media. Kraft's broader point, that Talarico's private ideological commitments bear little resemblance to his public campaign persona, is the central tension the resurfaced audio creates.

Madison Cercy, spokeswoman for Ken Paxton's Senate campaign, framed the podcast as part of a pattern, not a one-off slip. She told Fox News Digital:

"Every time one of these comments resurfaces, James Talarico claims it's being taken out of context or written off as another 'cringey comment.' But after years of saying the same things, Texans can see the pattern."

Cercy added that Talarico's "record is a long history of fighting for the most progressive causes in the name of Christianity" and that "the truth is he uses it as a shield to justify his crazy ideas."

Paxton himself, in comments reported by the Washington Times, said of Talarico: "I don't think he understands Christianity in any form or fashion." That assessment may carry particular weight in a state where Republican primary voters regularly cite faith as a top concern.

Talarico has also drawn attention for sexually explicit books found in his church library, another episode that undercuts the campaign's attempt to present him as a mainstream man of faith.

The Talarico campaign's defense

Campaign spokesperson JT Ennis offered a rebuttal that leaned heavily on Talarico's seminary credentials. Ennis told Fox News Digital:

"The Christian seminarian who's dedicated his life to the teachings of Jesus Christ obviously doesn't hate Christianity. James is a devout Christian who fights religious and political corruption when he sees it, because there's nothing Christ-like about powerful people twisting the teachings of Jesus to justify hate, violence, and greed."

Ennis also took a shot at Paxton, saying: "While billionaire-bought politicians like Ken Paxton attack James for his faith, he will continue encouraging Texans across the political spectrum to come together by loving their neighbors as themselves."

The defense amounts to: trust the résumé, not the recording. But the recording is Talarico in his own words, speaking freely in what he apparently believed was a friendly, low-profile setting. Voters will decide which version of the candidate to believe, the one on the campaign trail or the one on the "Activist Theology Podcast."

What the podcast reveals about the candidate

Beyond the headline quote, the 2021 interview offers a window into how Talarico thinks about his Republican colleagues and the voters who elected them. He described arriving at the Texas state house ready to confront the lawmakers who had passed legislation he opposed:

"I have to work with people who have passed these policies that threaten the existence of people that I love. Now they don't threaten my existence, for the most part, but they threaten the existence of my friends and my loved ones. When I got elected, I went searching for those monsters, right? I got elected to the state house, and I was like, 'I'm ready to find the monstrous people who passed these, you know, the show me your papers legislation, the bathroom bill.'"

Talarico went on to say he "didn't find monsters" and instead "found people who loved their kids, who loved their partners, who loved their colleagues, their immediate neighbors." He described struggling during his first term with how those colleagues could "vote this way on the floor and then turn around and be so personally decent."

The passage is revealing in two ways. First, Talarico arrived in office expecting to find "monsters", a word he used twice, among elected officials who supported border-security and bathroom-privacy legislation that majorities of Texas voters backed. Second, even his concession that his colleagues were decent human beings was framed as a personal crisis, not a reason to reconsider his own assumptions.

The broader pattern fits a trend Vice President Vance has warned about: a Democratic Party increasingly captured by its most ideologically progressive wing, even in states where that posture is a clear electoral liability.

A faith problem or a credibility problem?

Talarico's campaign wants this to be a story about religious freedom and personal faith. But that framing collapses under the weight of the candidate's own words. A man who calls himself "a Christian who hates Christianity," praises a "true white traitor," says his whiteness limits his imagination, equates Christ's teachings with Buddhism, and previously declared God "nonbinary" is not describing a private spiritual journey. He is articulating a progressive political theology, one that borrows Christianity's moral authority while discarding its doctrinal content.

Texas voters are not required to accept that trade. And in a general election where Talarico needs to win over churchgoing moderates, not just progressive seminary classmates, the gap between his private convictions and his public pitch may prove difficult to close.

The question hanging over this race is not whether Talarico's remarks were taken out of context. The full context makes them worse, not better. The question is whether Texas Democrats understood what kind of candidate they nominated, or whether they simply didn't care, so long as he could recite Scripture on cue.

Other Texas Democrats running for federal office have made similarly provocative pledges that suggest a party more interested in ideological purity than in winning the trust of the state's mainstream voters.

When a candidate tells you who he is on a podcast he thought nobody would hear, believe him the first time.