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Robert
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by Robert
N. Bellah
Acknowledgement:
Reprinted by permission of Dædalus, Journal of the American Academy of
Arts and Sciences, from the issue entitled, "Religion in America,"
Winter 1967, Vol. 96, No. 1, pp. 1-21.
At
the beginning of a reprint of this essay (Robert N. Bellah, Beyond Belief:
Essays on Religion in a Post-Traditionalist World. Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1991, p. 168), the author wrote:
This
chapter was written for a Dædalus
conference on American Religion in May 1966. It was reprinted with comments and
a rejoinder in The Religious Situation: 1968, where I defend myself
against the accusation of supporting an idolatrous worship of the American
nation. I think it should be clear from the text that I conceive of the central
tradition of the American civil religion not as a form of national self-worship
but as the subordination of the nation to ethical principles that transcend it
in terms of which it should be judged. I am convinced that every nation and
every people come to some form or religious self-understanding whether the
critics like it or not. Rather than simply denounce what seems in any case
inevitable, it seems more responsible to seek within the civil religious
tradition for those critical principles which undercut the everpresent danger of
national self-idolization.
While some have argued that
Christianity is the national faith, and others that church and synagogue
celebrate only the generalized religion of "the American Way of Life," few
have realized that there actually exists alongside of and rather clearly
differentiated from the churches an elaborate and well-institutionalized civil
religion in America. This article argues not only that there is such a thing,
but also that this religion-or perhaps better, this religious dimension-has
its own seriousness and integrity and requires the same care in understanding
that any other religion does.[i]
The
Kennedy Inaugural
John F.
Kennedy's inaugural address of January 20, 1961, serves as an example and a
clue with which to introduce this complex subject. That address began:
We
observe today not a victory of party but a celebration of freedom-symbolizing
an end as well as a beginning-signifying renewal as well as change. For I have
sworn before you and Almighty God the same solemn oath our forebears prescribed
nearly a century and three quarters ago.
The
world is very different now. For man holds in his mortal hands the power to
abolish all forms of human poverty and to abolish all forms of human life. And
yet the same revolutionary beliefs for which our forbears fought are still at
issue around the globe-the belief that the rights of man come not from the
generosity of the state but from the hand of God.
And it
concluded:
Finally,
whether you are citizens of America or of the world, ask of us the same high
standards of strength and sacrifice that we shall ask of you. With a good
conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let
us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but
knowing that here on earth God's work must truly be our own.
These are
the three places in this brief address in which Kennedy mentioned the name of
God. If we could understand why he mentioned God, the way in which he did, and
what he meant to say in those three references, we would understand much about
American civil religion. But this is not a simple or obvious task, and American
students of religion would probably differ widely in their interpretation of
these passages.
Let us consider
first the placing of the three references. They occur in the two opening
paragraphs and in the closing paragraph, thus providing a sort of frame for more
concrete remarks that form the middle part of the speech. Looking beyond this
particular speech, we would find that similar references to God are almost
invariably to be found in the pronouncements of American presidents on solemn
occasions, though usually not in the working messages that the President sends
to Congress on various concrete issues. How, then, are we to interpret this
placing of references to God?
It might be
argued that the passages quoted reveal the essentially irrelevant role of
religion in the very secular society that is America. The placing of the
references in this speech as well as in public life generally indicates that
religion "has only a ceremonial significance"; it gets only a sentimental
nod that serves largely to placate the more unenlightened members of the
community before a discussion of the really serious business with which religion
has nothing whatever to do. A cynical observer might even say that an American
President has to mention God or risk losing votes. A semblance of piety is
merely one of the unwritten qualifications for the office, a bit more
traditional than but not essentially different from the present-day requirement
of a pleasing television personality.
But we know
enough about the function of ceremonial and ritual in various societies to make
us suspicious of dismissing something as unimportant because it is "only a
ritual." What people say on solemn occasions need not be taken at face value,
but it is often indicative of deep-seated values and commitments that are not
made explicit in the course of everyday life. Following this line of argument,
it is worth considering whether the very special placing of the references to
God in Kennedy's address may not reveal something rather important and serious
about religion in American life.
It might be
countered that the very way in which Kennedy made his references reveals the
essentially vestigial place of religion today. He did not refer to any religion
in particular. He did not refer to Jesus Christ, or to Moses, or to the
Christian church; certainly he did not refer to the Catholic church. In fact,
his only reference was to the concept of God, a word that almost all Americans
can accept but that means so many different things to so many different people
that it is almost an empty sign. Is this not just another indication that in
America religion is considered vaguely to be a good thing, but that people care
so little about it that it has lost any content whatever? Isn't Dwight
Eisenhower reported to have said "Our government makes no sense unless it is
founded in a deeply felt religious faith-and I don't care what it is,"[ii]
and isn't that a complete negation of any real religion?
These questions
are worth pursuing because they raise the issue of how civil religion relates to
the political society on the one hand and to private religious organization on
the other. President Kennedy was a Christian, more specifically a Catholic
Christian. Thus his general references to God do not mean that he lacked a
specific religious commitment. But why, then, did he not include some remark to
the effect that Christ is the Lord of the world or some indication of respect
for the Catholic church? He did not because these are matters of his own private
religious belief and of his own particular church; they are not matters relevant
in any direct way to the conduct of his public office. Others with different
religious views and commitments to different churches or denominations are
equally qualified participants in the political process. The principle of
separation of church and state guarantees the freedom of religious belief and
association, but at the same time clearly segregates the religious sphere, which
is considered to be essentially private, from the political one.
Considering the
separation of church and state, how is a president justified in using the word
"God" at all? The answer is that the separation of church and state has not
denied the political realm a religious dimension. Although matters of personal
religious belief, worship, and association are considered to be strictly private
affairs, there are, at the same time, certain common elements of religious
orientation that the great majority of Americans share. These have played a
crucial role in the development of American institutions and still provide a
religious dimension for the whole fabric of American life, including the
political sphere. This public religious dimension is expressed in a set of
beliefs, symbols, and rituals that I am calling American civil religion. The
inauguration of a president is an important ceremonial event in this religion.
It reaffirms, among other things, the religious legitimation of the highest
political authority.
Let us look more
closely at what Kennedy actually said. First, he said, "I have sworn before
you and Almighty God the same solemn oath our forbears prescribed nearly a
century and three quarters ago." The oath is the oath of office, including the
acceptance of the obligation to uphold the Constitution. He swears it before the
people (you) and God. Beyond the Constitution, then, the president's
obligation extends not only to the people but to God. In American political
theory, sovereignty rests, of course, with the people, but implicitly, and often
explicitly, the ultimate sovereignty has been attributed to God. This is the
meaning of the motto, "In God we trust," as well as the inclusion of the
phrase "under God" in the pledge to the flag. What difference does it make
that sovereignty belongs to God? Though the will of the people as expressed in
the majority vote is carefully institutionalized as the operative source of
political authority, it is deprived of an ultimate significance. The will of the
people is not itself the criterion of right and wrong. There is a higher
criterion in terms of which this will can be judged; it is possible that the
people may be wrong. The president's obligation extends to the higher
criterion.
When Kennedy says
that "the rights of man come not from the generosity of the state but from the
hand of God," he is stressing this point again. It does not matter whether the
state is the expression of the will of an autocratic monarch or of the
"people"; the rights of man are more basic than any political structure and
provide a point of revolutionary leverage from which any state structure may be
radically altered. That is the basis for his reassertion of the revolutionary
significance of America.
But the religious
dimension of political life as recognized by Kennedy not only provides a
grounding for the rights of man that makes any form of political absolutism
illegitimate, it also provides a transcendent goal for the political process.
This is implied in his final words that "here on earth God's work must truly
be our own." What he means here is, I think, more clearly spelled out in a
previous paragraph, the wording of which, incidentally, has a distinctly
biblical ring:
Now
the trumpet summons us again-not as a call to bear arms, though arms we
need-not as a call to battle, though embattled we are-but a call to bear the
burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, "rejoicing in hope,
patient in tribulation"-a struggle against the common enemies of man:
tyranny, poverty, disease and war itself.
The whole
address can be understood as only the most recent statement of a theme that lies
very deep in the American tradition, namely the obligation, both collective and
individual, to carry out God's will on earth. This was the motivating spirit
of those who founded America, and it has been present in every generation since.
Just below the surface throughout Kennedy's inaugural address, it becomes
explicit in the closing statement that God's work must be our own. That this
very activist and noncontemplative conception of the fundamental religious
obligation, which has been historically associated with the Protestant position,
should be enunciated so clearly in the first major statement of the first
Catholic president seems to underline how deeply established it is in the
American outlook. Let us now consider the form and history of the civil
religious tradition in which Kennedy was speaking.
The
Idea of a Civil Religion
The phrase
"civil religion" is, of course, Rousseau's. In chapter 8, book 4 of The
Social Contract, he outlines the simple dogmas of the civil religion: the
existence of God, the life to come, the reward of virtue and the punishment of
vice, and the exclusion of religious intolerance. All other religious opinions
are outside the cognizance of the state and may be freely held by citizens.
While the phrase "civil religion" was not used, to the best of my knowledge,
by the founding fathers, and I am certainly not arguing for the particular
influence of Rousseau, it is clear that similar ideas, as part of the cultural
climate of the late eighteenth century, were to be found among the Americans.
For example, Benjamin Franklin writes in his autobiography,
I
never was without some religious principles. I never doubted, for instance, the
existence of the Deity; that he made the world and govern'd it by his
Providence; that the most acceptable service of God was the doing of good to
men; that our souls are immortal; and that all crime will be punished, and
virtue rewarded either here or hereafter. These I esteemed the essentials of
every religion; and, being to be found in all the religions we had in our
country, I respected them all, tho' with different degrees of respect, as I
found them more or less mix'd with other articles, which, without any tendency
to inspire, promote or confirm morality, serv'd principally do divide us, and
make us unfriendly to one another.
It is easy
to dispose of this sort of position as essentially utilitarian in relation to
religion. In Washington's Farewell Address (though the words may be
Hamilton's) the utilitarian aspect is quite explicit:
Of
all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, Religion and
Morality are indispensable supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of
Patriotism, who should labour to subvert these great Pillars of human happiness,
these firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. The mere politician,
equally with the pious man ought to cherish and respect them. A volume could not
trace all their connections with private and public felicity. Let it simply be
asked where is the security for property, for reputation, for life, if the sense
of religious obligation desert the oaths, which are the instruments of
investigation in Courts of Justice? And let us with caution indulge the
supposition, that morality can be maintained without religion. Whatever may be
conceded to the influence of refined education on minds of peculiar structure,
reason and experience both forbid us to expect that National morality can
prevail in exclusion of religious principle.
But there
is every reason to believe that religion, particularly the idea of God, played a
constitutive role in the thought of the early American statesmen.
Kennedy's
inaugural pointed to the religious aspect of the Declaration of Independence,
and it might be well to look a that document a bit more closely. There are four
references to God. The first speaks of the "Laws of Nature and of Nature's
God" that entitle any people to be independent. The second is the famous
statement that all men "are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable
Rights." Here Jefferson is locating the fundamental legitimacy of the new
nation in a conception of "higher law" that is itself based on both
classical natural law and biblical religion. The third is an appeal to "the
Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions," and the last
indicates "a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence." In these
last two references, a biblical God of history who stands in judgment over the
world is indicated.
The intimate
relation of these religious notions with the self-conception of the new republic
is indicated by the frequency of their appearance in early official documents.
For example, we find in Washington's first inaugural address of April 30,
1789:
It
would be peculiarly improper to omit in this first official act my fervent
supplications to that Almighty Being who rules over the universe, who presides
in the councils of nations, and whose providential aids can supply every defect,
that His benediction may consecrate to the liberties and happiness of the people
of the United States a Government instituted by themselves for these essential
purposes, and may enable every instrument employed in its administration to
execute with success the functions allotted to his charge.
No
people can be bound to acknowledge and adore the Invisible Hand which conducts
the affairs of man more than those of the United States. Every step by which we
have advanced to the character of an independent nation seems to have been
distinguished by some token providential agency..
The
propitious smiles of Heaven can never be expected on a nation that disregards
the eternal rules of order and right which Heaven itself has ordained.. The
preservation of the sacred fire of liberty and the destiny of the republican
model of government are justly considered, perhaps, as deeply, as finally,
staked on the experiment intrusted to the hands of the American people.
Nor did
these religious sentiments remain merely the personal expression of the
President. At the request of both Houses of Congress, Washington proclaimed on
October 3 of that same first year as President that November 26 should be "a
day of public thanksgiving and prayer," the first Thanksgiving Day under the
Constitution.
The words and
acts of the founding fathers, especially the first few presidents, shaped the
form and tone of the civil religion as it has been maintained ever since. Though
much is selectively derived from Christianity, this religion is clearly not
itself Christianity. For one thing, neither Washington nor Adams nor Jefferson
mentions Christ in his inaugural address; nor do any of the subsequent
presidents, although not one of them fails to mention God.[iii]
The God of the civil religion is not only rather "unitarian," he is also on
the austere side, much more related to order, law, and right than to salvation
and love. Even though he is somewhat deist in cast, he is by no means simply a
watchmaker God. He is actively interested and involved in history, with a
special concern for America. Here the analogy has much less to do with natural
law than with ancient Israel; the equation of America with Israel in the idea of
the "American Israel" is not infrequent.[iv]
What was implicit in the words of Washington already quoted becomes explicit in
Jefferson's second inaugural when he said: "I shall need, too, the favor of
that Being in whose hands we are, who led our fathers, as Israel of old, from
their native land and planted them in a country flowing with all the necessaries
and comforts of life." Europe is Egypt; America, the promised land. God has
led his people to establish a new sort of social order that shall be a light
unto all the nations.[v]
This theme, too, has been a continuous one in the civil religion. We have
already alluded to it in the case of the Kennedy inaugural. We find it again in
President Johnson's inaugural address:
They
came already here-the exile and the stranger, brave but frightened-to find a
place where a man could be his own man. They made a covenant with this land.
Conceived in justice, written in liberty, bound in union, it was meant one day
to inspire the hopes of all mankind; and it binds us still. If we keep its
terms, we shall flourish.
What we have,
then, from the earliest years of the republic is a collection of beliefs,
symbols, and rituals with respect to sacred things and institutionalized in a
collectivity. This religion-there seems no other word for it-while not
antithetical to and indeed sharing much in common with Christianity, was neither
sectarian nor in any specific sense Christian. At a time when the society was
overwhelmingly Christian, it seems unlikely that this lack of Christian
reference was meant to spare the feelings of the tiny non-Christian minority.
Rather, the civil religion expressed what those who set the precedents felt was
appropriate under the circumstances. It reflected their private as well as
public views. Nor was the civil religion simply "religion in general." While
generality was undoubtedly seen as a virtue by some, as in the quotation from
Franklin above, the civil religion was specific enough when it came to the topic
of America. Precisely because of this specificity, the civil religion was saved
from empty formalism and served as a genuine vehicle of national religious
self-understanding.
But the civil
religion was not, in the minds of Franklin, Washington, Jefferson, or other
leaders, with the exception of a few radicals like Tom Paine, ever felt to be a
substitute for Christianity. There was an implicit but quite clear division of
function between the civil religion and Christianity. Under the doctrine of
religious liberty, an exceptionally wide sphere of personal piety and voluntary
social action was left to the churches. But the churches were neither to control
the state nor to be controlled by it. The national magistrate, whatever his
private religious views, operates under the rubrics of the civil religion as
long as he is in his official capacity, as we have already seen in the case of
Kennedy. This accommodation was undoubtedly the product of a particular
historical moment and of a cultural background dominated by Protestantism of
several varieties and by the Enlightenment, but it has survived despite
subsequent changes in the cultural and religious climate.
Civil
War and Civil Religion
Until the Civil
War, the American civil religion focused above all on the event of the
Revolution, which was seen as the final act of the Exodus from the old lands
across the waters. The Declaration of Independence and the Constitution were the
sacred scriptures and Washington the divinely appointed Moses who led his people
out of the hands of tyranny. The Civil War, which Sidney Mead calls "the
center of American history," [vi]
was the second great event that involved the national self-understanding so
deeply as to require expression in civil religion. In 1835, Alexis de
Tocqueville wrote that the American republic has never really been tried and
that victory in the Revolutionary War was more the result of British
preoccupation elsewhere and the presence of a powerful ally than of any great
military success of the Americans. But in 1861 the time of testing had indeed
come. Not only did the Civil War have the tragic intensity of fratricidal
strife, but it was one of the bloodiest wars of the nineteenth century; the loss
of life was far greater than any previously suffered by Americans.
The Civil War
raised the deepest questions of national meaning. The man who not only
formulated but in his own person embodied its meaning for Americans was Abraham
Lincoln. For him the issue was not in the first instance slavery but "whether
that nation, or any nation so conceived, and so dedicated, can long endure."
He had said in Independence Hall in Philadelphia on February 22, 1861:
All
the political sentiments I entertain have been drawn, so far as I have been able
to draw them, from the sentiments which originated in and were given to the
world from this Hall. I have never had a feeling, politically, that did not
spring from the sentiments embodied in the Declaration of Independence. [vii]
The
phrases of Jefferson constantly echo in Lincoln's speeches. His task was,
first of all, to save the Union-not for America alone but for the meaning of
America to the whole world so unforgettably etched in the last phrase of the
Gettysburg Address.
But inevitably
the issue of slavery as the deeper cause of the conflict had to be faced. In his
second inaugural, Lincoln related slavery and the war in an ultimate
perspective:
If
we shall suppose that American slavery is one of those offenses which, in the
providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His
appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and
South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall
we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the
believers in a living God always ascribe to Him? Fondly do we hope, fervently do
we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God
wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two
hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop
of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as
was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said "the judgements of
the Lord are true and righteous altogether."
But he
closes on a note if not of redemption then of reconciliation-"With malice
toward none, with charity for all."
With the Civil
War, a new theme of death, sacrifice, and rebirth enters the new civil religion.
It is symbolized in the life and death of Lincoln. Nowhere is it stated more
vividly than in the Gettysburg Address, itself part of the Lincolnian "New
Testament" among the civil scriptures. Robert Lowell has recently pointed out
the "insistent use of birth images" in this speech explicitly devoted to
"these honored dead": "brought forth," "conceived," "created,"
"a new birth of freedom." He goes on to say:
The
Gettysburg Address is a symbolic and sacramental act. Its verbal quality is
resonance combined with a logical, matter of fact, prosaic brevity.. In his
words, Lincoln symbolically died, just as the Union soldiers really died-and
as he himself was soon really to die. By his words, he gave the field of battle
a symbolic significance that it has lacked. For us and our country, he left
Jefferson's ideals of freedom and equality joined to the Christian sacrificial
act of death and rebirth. I believe this is the meaning that goes beyond sect or
religion and beyond peace and war, and is now part of our lives as a challenge,
obstacle and hope.[viii]
Lowell is
certainly right in pointing out the Christian quality of the symbolism here, but
he is also right in quickly disavowing any sectarian implication. The earlier
symbolism of the civil religion had been Hebraic without any specific sense of
being Jewish. The Gettysburg symbolism (" . those who here gave their lives,
that that nation might live") is Christian without having anything to do with
the Christian church.
The symbolic
equation of Lincoln with Jesus was made relatively early. W. H. Herndon, who had
been Lincoln's law partner, wrote:
For
fifty years God rolled Abraham Lincoln through his fiery furnace. He did it to
try Abraham and to purify him for his purposes. This made Mr. Lincoln humble,
tender, forbearing, sympathetic to suffering, kind, sensitive, tolerant;
broadening, deepening and widening his whole nature; making him the noblest and
loveliest character since Jesus Christ.. I believe that Lincoln was God's
chosen one. [ix]
With the
Christian archetype in the background, Lincoln, "our martyred president,"
was linked to the war dead, those who "gave the last full measure of
devotion." The theme of sacrifice was indelibly written into the civil
religion.
The new symbolism
soon found both physical and ritualistic expression. The great number of the war
dead required the establishment of a number of national cemeteries. Of these,
Gettysburg National Cemetery, which Lincoln's famous address served to
dedicate, has been overshadowed only by the Arlington National Cemetery. Begun
somewhat vindictively on the Lee estate across the river from Washington, partly
with the end that the Lee family could never reclaim it,[x]
it has subsequently become the most hallowed monument of the civil religion. Not
only was a section set aside for the confederate dead, but it has received the
dead of each succeeding American war. It is the site of the one important new
symbol to come out of World War I, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier; more
recently it has become the site of the tomb of another martyred President and
its symbolic eternal flame.
Memorial Day,
which grew out of the Civil War, gave ritual expression to the themes we have
been discussing. As Lloyd Warner has so brilliantly analyzed it, the Memorial
Day observance, especially in the towns and smaller cities of America, is a
major event for the whole community involving a rededication to the martyred
dead, to the spirit of sacrifice, and to the American vision.[xi]
Just as Thanksgiving Day, which incidentally was securely
institutionalized as an annual national holiday only under the presidency of
Lincoln, serves to integrate the family into the civil religion, so Memorial Day
has acted to integrate the local community into the national cult. Together with
the less overtly religious Fourth of July and the more minor celebrations of
Veterans Day and the birthdays of Washington and Lincoln, these two holidays
provide an annual ritual calendar for the civil religion. The public school
system serves as a particularly important context for the cultic celebration of
the civil rituals.
The
Civil Religion Today
In reifying and
giving a name to something that, though pervasive enough when you look at it,
has gone on only semiconsciously, there is risk of severely distorting the data.
But the reification and the naming have already begun. The religious critics of
"religion in general," or of the "religion of the 'American Way of
Life,'" or of "American Shinto" have really been talking about the civil
religion. As usual in religious polemic, they take as criteria the best in their
own religious tradition and as typical the worst in the tradition of the civil
religion. Against these critics, I would argue that the civil religion at its
best is a genuine apprehension of universal and transcendent religious reality
as seen in or, one could almost say, as revealed through the experience of the
American people. Like all religions, it has suffered various deformations and
demonic distortions. At its best, it has neither been so general that it has
lacked incisive relevance to the American scene nor so particular that it has
placed American society above universal human values. I am not at all convinced
that the leaders of the churches have consistently represented a higher level of
religious insight than the spokesmen of the civil religion. Reinhold Niebuhr has
this to say of Lincoln, who never joined a church and who certainly represents
civil religion at its best:
An
analysis of the religion of Abraham Lincoln in the context of the traditional
religion of his time and place and of its polemical use on the slavery issue,
which corrupted religious life in the days before and during the Civil War, must
lead to the conclusion that Lincoln's religious convictions were superior in
depth and purity to those, not only of the political leaders of his day, but of
the religious leaders of the era.[xii]
Perhaps the real
animus of the religious critics has been not so much against the civil religion
in itself but against its pervasive and dominating influence within the sphere
of church religion. As S. M. Lipset has recently shown, American religion at
least since the early nineteenth century has been predominantly activist,
moralistic, and social rather than contemplative, theological, or innerly
spiritual.[xiii]
De Tocqueville spoke of American church religion as "a political institution
which powerfully contributes to the maintenance of a democratic republic among
the Americans"[xiv] by supplying a strong
moral consensus amidst continuous political change. Henry Bargy in 1902 spoke of
American church religion as "la poésie du civisme."[xv]
It is certainly
true that the relation between religion and politics in America has been
singularly smooth. This is in large part due to the dominant tradition. As de
Tocqueville wrote:
The
greatest part of British America was peopled by men who, after having shaken off
the authority of the Pope, acknowledged no other religious supremacy: they
brought with them into the New World a form of Christianity which I cannot
better describe than by styling it a democratic and republican religion.[xvi]
The
churches opposed neither the Revolution nor the establishment of democratic
institutions. Even when some of them opposed the full institutionalization of
religious liberty, they accepted the final outcome with good grace and without
nostalgia for the ancien régime.
The
American civil religion was never anticlerical or militantly secular. On the
contrary, it borrowed selectively from the religious tradition in such a way
that the average American saw no conflict between the two. In this way, the
civil religion was able to build up without any bitter struggle with the church
powerful symbols of national solidarity and to mobilize deep levels of personal
motivation for the attainment of national goals.
Such an
achievement is by no means to be taken for granted. It would seem that the
problem of a civil religion is quite general in modern societies and that the
way it is solved or not solved will have repercussions in many spheres. One need
only to think of France to see how differently things can go. The French
Revolution was anticlerical to the core and attempted to set up an
anti-Christian civil religion. Throughout modern French history, the chasm
between traditional Catholic symbols and the symbolism of 1789 has been immense.
American civil
religion is still very much alive. Just three years ago we participated in a
vivid reenactment of the sacrifice theme in connection with the funeral of our
assassinated President. The American Israel theme is clearly behind both
Kennedy's New Frontier and Johnson's Great Society. Let me give just one
recent illustration of how the civil religion serves to mobilize support for the
attainment of national goals. On March 15, 1965, President Johnson went before
Congress to ask for a strong voting-rights bill. Early in the speech he said:
Rarely
are we met with the challenge, not to our growth or abundance, or our welfare or
our society-but rather to the values and the purposes and the meaning of our
beloved nation.
The
issue of equal rights for American Negroes is such an issue. And should we
double our wealth and conquer the stars and still be unequal to this issue, then
we will have failed as a people and as a nation.
For
with a country as with a person, "What is a man profited, if he shall gain the
whole world, and lose his own soul."
And in
conclusion he said:
Above
the pyramid on the great seal of the United States it says in Latin, "God has
favored our undertaking."
God
will not favor everything that we do. It is rather our duty to divine his will.
I cannot help but believe that He truly understands and that He really favors
the undertaking that we begin here tonight.[xvii]
The civil
religion has not always been invoked in favor of worthy causes. On the domestic
scene, an American-Legion type of ideology that fuses God, country, and flag has
been used to attack nonconformist and liberal ideas and groups of all kinds.
Still, it has been difficult to use the words of Jefferson and Lincoln to
support special interests and undermine personal freedom. The defenders of
slavery before the Civil War came to reject the thinking of the Declaration of
Independence. Some of the most consistent of them turned against not only
Jeffersonian democracy but Reformation religion; they dreamed of a South
dominated by medieval chivalry and divine-right monarchy.[xviii]
For all the overt religiosity of the radical right today, their relation to the
civil religious consensus is tenuous, as when the John Birch Society attacks the
central American symbol of Democracy itself.
With respect to
America's role in the world, the dangers of distortion are greater and the
built-in safeguards of the tradition weaker. The theme of the American Israel
was used, almost from the beginning, as a justification for the shameful
treatment of the Indians so characteristic of our history. It can be overtly or
implicitly linked to the ideal of manifest destiny that has been used to
legitimate several adventures in imperialism since the early nineteenth century.
Never has the danger been greater than today. The issue is not so much one of
imperial expansion, of which we are accused, as of the tendency to assimilate
all governments or parties in the world that support our immediate policies or
call upon our help by invoking the notion of free institutions and democratic
values. Those nations that are for the moment "on our side" become "the
free world." A repressive and unstable military dictatorship in South Vietnam
becomes "the free people of South Vietnam and their government." It is then
part of the role of America as the New Jerusalem and "the last best hope of
earth" to defend such governments with treasure and eventually with blood.
When our soldiers are actually dying, it becomes possible to consecrate the
struggle further by invoking the great theme of sacrifice. For the majority of
the American people who are unable to judge whether the people in South Vietnam
(or wherever) are "free like us," such arguments are convincing. Fortunately
President Johnson has been less ready to assert that "God has favored our
undertaking" in the case of Vietnam than with respect to civil rights. But
others are not so hesitant. The civil religion has exercised long-term pressure
for the humane solution of our greatest domestic problem, the treatment of the
Negro American. It remains to be seen how relevant it can become for our role in
the world at large, and whether we can effectually stand for "the
revolutionary beliefs for which our forbears fought," in John F. Kennedy's
words.
The civil
religion is obviously involved in the most pressing moral and political issues
of the day. But it is also caught in another kind of crisis, theoretical and
theological, of which it is at the moment largely unaware. "God" has clearly
been a central symbol in the civil religion from the beginning and remains so
today. This symbol is just as central to the civil religion as it is to Judaism
or Christianity. In the late eighteenth century this posed no problem; even Tom
Paine, contrary to his detractors, was not an atheist. From left to right and
regardless of church or sect, all could accept the idea of God. But today, as
even Time has recognized, the meaning of "God" is by no means so
clear or so obvious. There is no
formal creed in the civil religion. We have had a Catholic President; it is
conceivable that we could have a Jewish one. But could we have an agnostic
president? Could a man with conscientious scruples about using the word
"God" the way Kennedy and Johnson have used it be elected chief magistrate
of our country? If the whole God symbolism requires reformulation, there will be
obvious consequences for the civil religion, consequences perhaps of liberal
alienation and of fundamentalist ossification that have not so far been
prominent in this realm. The civil religion has been a point of articulation
between the profoundest commitments of Western religious and philosophical
tradition and the common beliefs of ordinary Americans. It is not too soon to
consider how the deepening theological crisis may affect the future of this
articulation.
The
Third Time of Trial
In conclusion it
may be worthwhile to relate the civil religion to the most serious situation
that we as Americans now face, what I call the third time of trial. The first
time of trial had to do with the question of independence, whether we should or
could run our own affairs in our own way. The second time of trial was over the
issue of slavery, which in turn was only the most salient aspect of the more
general problem of the full institutionalization of democracy within our
country. This second problem we are still far from solving though we have some
notable successes to our credit. But we have been overtaken by a third great
problem that has led to a third great crisis, in the midst of which we stand.
This is the problem of responsible action in a revolutionary world, a world
seeking to attain many of the things, material and spiritual, that we have
already attained. Americans have, from the beginning, been aware of the
responsibility and the significance our republican experiment has for the whole
world. The first internal political polarization in the new nation had to do
with our attitude toward the French Revolution. But we were small and weak then,
and "foreign entanglements" seemed to threaten our very survival. During the
last century, our relevance for the world was not forgotten, but our role was
seen as purely exemplary. Our democratic republic rebuked tyranny by merely
existing. Just after World War I we were on the brink of taking a different role
in the world, but once again we turned our backs.
Since World War
II the old pattern has become impossible. Every president since Franklin
Roosevelt has been groping toward a new pattern of action in the world, one that
would be consonant with our power and our responsibilities. For Truman and for
the period dominated by John Foster Dulles that pattern was seen to be the great
Manichean confrontation of East and West, the confrontation of democracy and
"the false philosophy of Communism" that provided the structure of
Truman's inaugural address. But with the last years of Eisenhower and with the
successive two presidents, the pattern began to shift. The great problems came
to be seen as caused not solely by the evil intent of any one group of men. For
Kennedy it was not so much a struggle against particular men as against "the
common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease and war itself."
But in the midst
of this trend toward a less primitive conception of ourselves and our world, we
have somehow, without anyone really intending it, stumbled into a military
confrontation where we have come to feel that our honor is at stake. We have in
a moment of uncertainty been tempted to rely on our overwhelming physical power
rather than on our intelligence, and we have, in part, succumbed to this
temptation. Bewildered and unnerved when our terrible power fails to bring
immediate success, we are at the edge of a chasm the depth of which no man
knows.
I cannot help but
think of Robinson Jeffers, whose poetry seems more apt now than when it was
written, when he said:
Unhappy
country, what wings you have! .
Weep
(it is frequent in human affairs), weep for
the
terrible magnificence of the means,
The
ridiculous incompetence of the reasons, the
bloody
and shabby
Pathos
of the result.
But as so
often before in similar times, we have a man of prophetic stature, without the
bitterness or misanthropy of Jeffers, who, as Lincoln before him, calls this
nation to its judgment:
When
a nation is very powerful but lacking in self-confidence, it is likely to behave
in a manner that is dangerous both to itself and to others.
Gradually
but unmistakably, America is succumbing to that arrogance of power which has
afflicted, weakened and in some cases destroyed great nations in the past.
If
the war goes on and expands, if that fatal process continues to accelerate until
America becomes what it is not now and never has been, a seeker after unlimited
power and empire, then Vietnam will have had a mighty and tragic fallout indeed.
I
do not believe that will happen. I am very apprehensive but I still remain
hopeful, and even confident, that America, with its humane and democratic
traditions, will find the wisdom to match its power.[xix]
Without an
awareness that our nation stands under higher judgment, the tradition of the
civil religion would be dangerous indeed. Fortunately, the prophetic voices have
never been lacking. Our present situation brings to mind the Mexican-American
war that Lincoln, among so many others, opposed. The spirit of civil
disobedience that is alive today in the civil rights movement and the opposition
to the Vietnam War was already clearly outlined by Henry David Thoreau when he
wrote, "If the law is of such a nature that it requires you to be an agent of
injustice to another, then I say, break the law. Thoreau's words, "I would
remind my countrymen that they are men first, and Americans at a late and
convenient hour,"[xx]
provide an essential standard for any adequate thought and action in our third
time of trial. As Americans, we have been well favored in the world, but it is
as men that we will be judged.
Out of the first
and second times of trial have come, as we have seen, the major symbols of the
American civil religion. There seems little doubt that a successful negotiation
of this third time of trial-the attainment of some kind of viable and coherent
world order-would precipitate a major new set of symbolic forms. So far the
flickering flame of the United Nations burns too low to be the focus of a cult,
but the emergence of a genuine transnational sovereignty would certainly change
this. It would necessitate the incorporation of vital international symbolism
into our civil religion, or, perhaps a better way of putting it, it would result
in American civil religion becoming simply one part of a new civil religion of
the world. It is useless to speculate on the form such a civil religion might
take, though it obviously would draw on religious traditions beyond the sphere
of biblical religion alone.
Fortunately, since the American civil religion is
not the worship of the American nation but an understanding of the American
experience in the light of ultimate and universal reality, the reorganization
entailed by such a new situation need not disrupt the American civil
religion's continuity. A world civil religion could be accepted as a
fulfillment and not as a denial of American civil religion. Indeed, such an
outcome has been the eschatological hope of American civil religion from the
beginning. To deny such an outcome would be to deny the meaning of America
itself.
Behind the civil religion at every point lie biblical archetypes: Exodus,
Chosen People, Promised Land, New Jerusalem, and Sacrificial Death and Rebirth.
But it is also genuinely American and genuinely new. It has its own prophets and
its own martyrs, its own sacred events and sacred places, its own solemn rituals
and symbols. It is concerned that America be a society as perfectly in accord
with the will of God as men can make it, and a light to all nations.
It has often been
used and is being used today as a cloak for petty interests and ugly passions.
It is in need-as any living faith-of continual reformation, of being
measured by universal standards. But it is not evident that it is incapable of
growth and new insight.
It does not make
any decisions for us. It does not remove us from moral ambiguity, from being, in
Lincoln's fine phrase, an "almost chosen people." But it is a heritage of
moral and religious experience from which we still have much to learn as we
formulate the decisions that lie ahead.
Endnotes
[i] Why something so obvious
should have escaped serious analytical attention is itself an interesting
problem. Part of the reason is probably the controversial nature of the
subject. From the earliest years of the nineteenth century, conservative
religious and political groups have argued that Christianity is, in fact,
the national religion. Some of them from time to time and as recently as the
1950s proposed constitutional amendments that would explicitly recognize the
sovereignty of Christ. In defending the doctrine of separation of church and
state, opponents of such groups have denied that the national polity has,
intrinsically, anything to do with religion at all. The moderates on this
issue have insisted that the American state has taken a permissive and
indeed supportive attitude toward religious groups (tax exemptions, et
cetera), thus favoring religion but still missing the positive
institutionalization with which I am concerned. But part of the reason this
issue has been left in obscurity is certainly due to the peculiarly Western
concept of "religion" as denoting a single type of collectivity of which
an individual can be a member of one and only one at a time. The Durkheimian
notion that every group has a religious dimension, which would be seen as
obvious in southern or eastern Asia, is foreign to us. This obscures the
recognition of such dimensions in our society.
[ii] Dwight D. Eisenhower, in
Will Herberg, Protestant-Catholic-Jew (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday
& Co., 1955), p. 97.
[iii] God is mentioned or
referred to in all inaugural addresses but Washington's second, which is a
very brief (two paragraphs) and perfunctory acknowledgement. It is not
without interest that the actual word "God" does not appear until
Monroe's second inaugural, March 5, 1821. In his first inaugural,
Washington refers to God as "that Almighty Being who rules the
universe," "Great Author of every public and private good,"
"Invisible Hand," and "benign Parent of the Human Race." John Adams
refers to God as "Providence," "Being who is supreme over all,"
"Patron of Order," "Fountain of Justice," and "Protector in all
ages of the world of virtuous liberty." Jefferson speaks of "that
Infinite Power which rules the destinies of the universe," and "that
Being in whose hands we are." Madison speaks of
"that Almighty Being whose power regulates the destiny of
nations," and "Heaven." Monroe uses "Providence" and "the
Almighty" in his first inaugural and finally "Almighty God" in his
second. See Inaugural Addresses of the Presidents of the United States
from George Washington 1789 to Harry S. Truman 1949, 82d Congress, 2d
Session, House Document No. 540, 1952.
[iv] For example, Abiel Abbot,
pastor of the First Church in Haverhill, Massachusetts, delivered a
Thanksgiving sermon in 1799, Traits of Resemblance in the People of the
United States of America to Ancient Israel, in which he said, "It has
been often remarked that the people of the United States come nearer to a
parallel with Ancient Israel, than any other nation upon the globe. Hence
'Our American Israel' is a term frequently used; and common consent
allows it apt and proper." In Hans Kohn, The Idea of Nationalism
(New York: Macmillan Co., 1961), p. 665.
[v] That the Mosaic analogy was
present in the minds of leaders at the very moment of the birth of the
republic is indicated in the designs proposed by Franklin and Jefferson for
the seal of the United States of America. Together with Adams, they formed a
committee of three delegated by the Continental Congress on July 4, 1776, to
draw up the new device. "Franklin proposed as the device Moses lifting up
his wand and dividing the Red Sea while Pharaoh was overwhelmed by its
waters, with the motto 'Rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God.'
Jefferson proposed the children of Israel in the wilderness 'led by a
cloud by day and a pillar of fire at night.'" Anson Phelps Stokes, Church
and State in the United States, vol. 1 (New York: Harper & Co.,
1950), pp. 467-68.
[vi] Sidney E. Mead, The
Lively Experiment (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), p. 12.
[vii] Abraham Lincoln, in Allan
Nevins, ed., Lincoln and the Gettysburg Address (Urbana, Ill.: Univ.
of Ill. Press, 1964), p. 39.
[viii] Robert Lowell, in ibid.,
"On the Gettysburg Address," pp. 88-89.
[ix] William Henry Herndon, in
Sherwood Eddy, The Kingdom of God and the American Dream (New York:
Harper & Row, 1941), p. 162.
[x] Karl Decker and Angus
McSween, Historic Arlington (Washington, D.C., 1892), pp. 60-67.
[xi] How extensive the activity
associated with Memorial Day can be is indicated by Warner: "The sacred
symbolic behavior of Memorial Day, in which scores of the town's
organizations are involved, is ordinarily divided into four periods. During
the year separate rituals are held by many of the associations for their
dead, and many of these activities are connected with later Memorial Day
events. In the second phase, preparations are made during the last three or
four weeks for the ceremony itself, and some of the associations perform
public rituals. The third phase consists of scores of rituals held in all
the cemeteries, churches, and halls of the associations. These rituals
consist of speeches and highly ritualized behavior. They last for two days
and are climaxed by the fourth and last phase, in which all the separate
celebrants gather in the center of the business district on the afternoon of
Memorial Day. The separate organizations, with their members in uniform or
with fitting insignia, march through the town, visit the shrines and
monuments of the hero dead, and, finally, enter the cemetery. Here dozens of
ceremonies are held, most of them highly symbolic and formalized." During
these various ceremonies Lincoln is continually referred to and the
Gettysburg Address recited many times. W. Lloyd Warner, American Life
(Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1962), pp. 8-9.
[xii] Reinhold Niebuhr, "The
Religion of Abraham Lincoln," in Nevins, ed., op. cit., p. 72.
William J. Wolfe of the Episcopal Theological School in Cambridge,
Massachusetts, has written: "Lincoln is one of the greatest theologians of
America-not in the technical meaning of producing a system of doctrine,
certainly not as a defender of some one denomination, but in the sense of
seeing the hand of God intimately in the affairs of nations. Just so the
prophets of Israel criticized the events of their day from the perspective
of the God who is concerned for history, and who reveals His will within it.
Lincoln now stands among God's latter day prophets." The Religion of
Abraham Lincoln (New York, 1963), p. 24.
[xiii] Seymour Martin Lipset,
"Religion and American Values in The First New Nation (New York:
Basic Books, 1964), chap. 4.
[xiv] Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy
in America, vol. 1 (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday & Co., Anchor
Books, 1954), p. 310.
[xv] Henry Bargy, La
Religion dans la Société aux États-Unis (Paris, 1902), p. 31.
[xvi] De Tocqueville, op.
cit., p. 311. Later he says, "In the United States even the religion
of most of the citizens is republican, since it submits the truths of the
other world to private judgment, as in politics the care of their temporal
interests is abandoned to the good sense of the people. Thus every man is
allowed freely to take that road which he thinks will lead him to heaven,
just as the law permits every citizen to have the right of choosing his own
government" (p. 436).
[xvii] Lyndon B. Johnson, in
U.S., Congressional Record, House, March 15, 1965, pp. 4924, 4926.
[xviii] See Louis Hartz, "The
Feudal Dream of the South," pt. 4, The Liberal Tradition in America
(New York: Harcourt, Brace & Co., 1955).
[xix] Senator J. William
Fullbright, speech of April 28, 1966, as reported in The New York Times,
April 29, 1966.
[xx] Henry David Thoreau, In
Yehoshua Arieli, Individualism and Nationalism in American Ideology
(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press, 1964), p. 274.
