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On Tuesday evening, just before the rain started, dozens of people spilled onto the sidewalk in front of the City-County Building, holding thin white candles ringed by paper wax catchers. And shortly after 6 p.m., Pastor Sam Linton stepped up to a Lucite pulpit and, flanked by two American flags, led the crowd in prayer.
“Father, right now, we come to you in an unsettled time, hoping to have our spirit settled,” Linton said. “And right now, I pray that as we honor the legacy of Charlie Kirk, I pray that you would speak to us about our own legacies.”
Linton and about 100 others gathered to memorialize Charlie Kirk, the Christian conservative activist assassinated earlier this month. Volunteers passed out stickers reading, “I am Charlie” and “I am Erika,” referring to Kirk and his wife.
Darien Smith drove in from Westmoreland County to attend.
“Charlie passing away — basically being executed — was very hard on the Christian community because we all felt it spiritually, and he was our brother in Christ. It’s like a family member,” she said.
But the gathering was “more of a revival than a sad memory,” she added. “I’m here to let that memory live on.”
The tone of the event was more subdued than that of Kirk’s memorial in Arizona last weekend. President Donald Trump broke with the solemnity expressed by other speakers — including Kirk’s widow, who said she forgave his killer — to blame what he called “radical-left lunatics” for his death.
Some attendees said they were drawn to Kirk not by his political activity, but by his faith.
“I wasn’t too familiar with Charlie Kirk, but I am Christian,” said Marcus Glover of Mt. Lebanon. “I heard a lot of good things about him, a lot of bad things about him. But I knew that he believed in Jesus Christ. So that’s most important to me.”
Others played down political considerations.
“T he reason why you’re rattled [by Kirk’s death] isn’t because you experience … a climax to a war between Democrats and Republicans,” said Linton. “That’s what some of you are led to believe, but that’s just not true.”
Still, partisan messages were never far away, perhaps fittingly for a man who himself blended faith and politics throughout his public life.
Some attendees wore bright-red “Make America Great Again” hats, others wore shirts emblazoned with pictures of Trump with his fist in the air, moments after he survived an assassination attempt at a Butler County rally last year.
Turning Point Action Pennsylvania, a state offshoot of Kirk’s Turning Point USA, set up a table to register voters and pass out Turning Point-branded signs with such messages as “don’t let Dems shut down our churches,” and “political races shouldn’t affect sacred spaces.”
“Charlie wants you to register to vote,” another sign declared.
“We’re out here, and we are bigger than ever,” William Versaw, a field representative with Turning Point Action Pennsylvania, told the crowd. “We have the truth, everybody. It’s time for us to proclaim it.” He noted that membership on the state chapter’s Facebook page had grown tenfold in recent weeks.
Kirk’s critics see a far different legacy — one in which he attacked LGBTQ people and Muslims, and in which he had spoken dismissively about the civil rights movement.
Still, memorial attendees say Kirk’s death was helping to spur a broader spiritual revival. At The Log Church, where Linton is associate pastor, “attendance has been up like crazy” in recent days, he said.
“What we’re seeing is people going to church for the first time in 10 years,” said Smith, of Westmoreland County. Kirk was “inspiring everybody — non-believers — and I think that impact will continue.”
National polls suggest a long-term decline in religious faith may already have bottomed out, and could be reversing.
A survey from the Pew Research Center published earlier this year suggests that, though younger Americans are decidedly less religious than previous generations, the decline has seemingly slowed in the short term. Americans born from 2000 through 2006 were just as likely as those born in the 1990s “to identify as Christians, to say religion is very important in their lives, and to report that they attend religious services at least monthly.”
But the report’s authors caution that, for the trend to hold, “something would need to change.” Younger Americans would have to become more religious, as an older generation of faith dwindles.
In the short term, it’s not clear how Kirk’s death will reshape American life.
While there has been no evidence linking Kirk’s accused killer to a broader movement or organization, the Trump administration has threatened to “get to the bottom of this vast network inciting violence,” a pledge that has alarmed progressive groups. There is fear that Trump may use revulsion over the shooting to silence critics on the left.
But several vigil participants, at least, said they hoped Kirk’s legacy would be a more open debate of differences.
“What matters is how you treat and see the people you agree with, but maybe even more importantly, the ones you don’t,” said Maggie O’Neill, who helped organize the event. “Knowing that the person you’re speaking to is human just like you, and in their heart, they’re standing up for what they feel is right.”
Given the country’s deep partisan divide, is that approach to politics even possible now? Maybe the first test is whether Americans across the spectrum actually want it to be.