Roy Moore’s Alabama Church Warns ‘God’s Judgment Is Upon Us’ After Satanic Temple Statue Erected in State Capitol
MONTGOMERY, AL – In a move that has sent shockwaves through the heart of the Bible Belt and ignited a firestorm of legal, moral, and existential debate, a life-sized statue of the pagan god Baphomet, commissioned by The Satanic Temple, now stands in the rotunda of the Alabama State Capitol. And if you think this is just another culture war skirmish, you haven’t been paying attention.
The statue, a bronze rendering of a goat-headed, winged figure flanked by two smiling children, was erected under a court order that forced the state to allow its display alongside a nativity scene and a Hanukkah menorah. The ruling, which cited the First Amendment’s guarantee of free speech and religious pluralism, was a legal victory for The Satanic Temple, which has long argued that if a state allows one religious display, it must allow all.
But for many Alabamians, especially the evangelical base that has long defined the state’s political and moral character, this is not a victory. It is a desecration.
“This is not about free speech. This is about the systematic dismantling of Christian America,” said former Alabama Chief Justice Roy Moore, who stood in the shadow of the statue on a humid Tuesday afternoon, flanked by a small crowd of praying supporters. “We have turned our backs on God, and now, we are literally inviting the devil into our halls of power. God’s judgment is upon us.”
Moore, who was twice removed from the state Supreme Court for refusing to remove a Ten Commandments monument from the state judicial building, is no stranger to controversy. But even he seemed shaken by the sight of the Baphomet statue, which he described as a “direct and demonic affront to the sovereignty of Almighty God.”
“You want to know why America is collapsing? Look around you,” Moore continued, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sorrow. “We have murdered 60 million unborn children. We have normalized sodomy. We have removed prayer from schools. And now, we bow down to a goat. What do you think happens next?”
The question hung in the humid air like a curse.
The statue itself is a masterwork of provocation. The Baphomet, a figure historically associated with the Knights Templar and later adopted by occultists, sits in a meditative pose, its hand raised in a gesture that some interpret as a blessing, others as a mockery. The two children gaze upward, their faces innocent, their presence a pointed commentary on the innocence that the group claims is corrupted by religious indoctrination.
“We are not here to worship a devil. We are here to make a point,” said Lucien Greaves, co-founder of The Satanic Temple, who traveled from New York to oversee the installation. “If Alabama insists on putting a nativity scene in the capitol, it must accept that religious pluralism means all religions—even those it finds offensive. This is the price of the First Amendment.”
But for the families who live in the shadow of the capitol, the price feels too high.
“I’m scared,” said Martha Jenkins, a 62-year-old grandmother from Montgomery who brought her five-year-old granddaughter to see the nativity scene, only to find herself staring at the Baphomet. “I don’t know what this world is coming to. When I was a girl, we had respect for God. Now, we have a statue of a demon in the statehouse. What am I supposed to tell my granddaughter?”
What she tells her granddaughter is a question that echoes across the state, and indeed, across the nation. For millions of Americans, the Baphomet statue is not just a piece of art or a legal test case. It is a symbol of a society that has lost its moral compass, that has traded its Judeo-Christian heritage for a hollow, relativistic pluralism that elevates the profane to the same level as the sacred.
“This is the logical endpoint of the moral revolution,” said Dr. Timothy Keller, a theologian and author who has written extensively on the decline of American Christianity. “When you remove the foundation of objective moral truth, you don’t get a neutral public square. You get chaos. You get a statue of Baphomet in the capitol. This is what happens when we forget that our rights come from God, not from the state.”
The tension was palpable as the sun set over the capitol building. A group of Christian protesters, led by Moore, began to pray aloud, their voices rising in a chorus of desperate supplication. “Lord, have mercy on this nation. Lord, turn us back to You. Lord, forgive us for our sins.”
Across the rotunda, a small group of Satanic Temple members stood in silent vigil, their faces impassive. They were not praying. They were witnessing.
“We don’t believe in a literal Satan,” said a spokesperson for the group, who declined to give her name. “We believe in the power of reason, in the rejection of tyranny, in the sovereignty of the individual. If that frightens people, that’s their problem.”
But for Roy Moore, it is not a problem of reason. It is a problem of the soul.
“We have become a nation of fools,” he said, his voice cracking. “We have built our house on sand, and the storm is coming. You can see it in the streets. You can see it in the schools. You can see it in the capitol. God is giving us over to our own delusions, and we are dancing in the flames.”
As the evening wore on, the crowd began to thin. The protesters went home. The Satanic Temple members packed up their materials. The capitol building grew quiet.
But the statue remained. And so did the question: What happens next?
Final Thoughts
Having covered enough campaigns to recognize the stench of a contrived culture war, it’s clear that Roy Moore’s political career was less about Alabama’s values and more about a dangerous willingness to weaponize religious absolutism against constitutional law. The allegations against him, whether one chooses to believe them or not, exposed a pattern of moral hypocrisy that his base was willing to overlook—a stark reminder that for some voters, tribal loyalty will always trump the rule of law or the dignity of a child’s testimony. Ultimately, Moore’s fall wasn’t just a personal tragedy of a flawed man; it was a sobering case study in how tenuous the line remains between righteous faith and reckless demagoguery in American politics.