A ‘Hallowed Place,’ With a Whiff of Onion Rings and Sun Block

“We have fought together,” former President Donald J. Trump told his supporters on Saturday evening. “We have bled together.”

He was back in Butler, Pa., where, in July, he was shot in the ear, one of his followers was killed and two others were injured. He stood behind the thickest, most bulletproof glass you have ever seen and looked out into maybe the biggest crowd he has had all year. He said that he had returned “by the hand of providence and the grace of God” and that he would not ever bend or break “even in the face of death itself.” He looked around the sprawling farm grounds and declared them a “hallowed place.”

As holy sites go, this was an unusual one. The smell of onion rings and sunblock and cigarette smoke and diesel fuel and dirt swirled together in the air. There were a great many men with sniper rifles, prowling across nearby rooftops. There were monster trucks in the parking lot, and military veterans parachuting in as AC/DC’s “Back in Black” boomed from the sound system, and there was Elon Musk, dressed all in black, jumping up and down onstage.

Still, many of the former president’s supporters really do regard Butler as consecrated grounds. In the 12 weeks since the shooting, a spiritual lore has sprung up around the events of that day. It is a powerful lore that Mr. Trump, his campaign, his children and his running mate have nurtured, such that Saturday’s return to Butler was, for many of the movement’s followers, more than just a campaign rally — it was a religious event.

And it marked the stunning endpoint of a journey that Mr. Trump has traveled with people of faith, one that was at first defined by a transactionalism and gaze aversion — We’ll look the other way at his sinning if he delivers on the issues we care about — but that has now transmogrified into something else entirely.