Most of the Memorial Day parades near us were cancelled last weekend due to the weather. But, my experience makes me aware that a public recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance is standard fare. It reminds me of parochial school days, where every morning started with a ritual: a prayer, the Pledge, and announcements about sports and cafeteria menus. As a seventh grader, I found the Pledge odd because it seemed to elevate a flag over values like the Constitution. Yet, I recited along with everyone. Now, with Christian Nationalism rising, I question the connection between that pledge and the phrase: “one nation under God.”
The Pledge was written in 1892, largely credited to Baptist minister Francis Bellamy. Its original version read: “I pledge allegiance to my flag and the Republic for which it stands—one Nation indivisible—with liberty and justice for all.” Notably, it made no mention of God. When Franklin Roosevelt signed the U.S. Flag Code into law in 1942 to standardize the wording, it still omitted any reference to God. It wasn’t until 1954 that the phrase including ‘under God’ was added, a change rooted less in theology than in Cold War influences.
Around 1952, the Knights of Columbus and other groups began lobbying to add “under God” to the Pledge. In February 1954, Pastor George M. Docherty of Washington’s New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, with President Eisenhower present, advocated this change during a Lincoln’s birthday sermon, arguing the original Pledge was too generic and could be recited by Soviet schoolchildren. Adding God created a boundary that godless communists could not cross. Congress approved the change within six months, and Eisenhower signed it, praising the “spiritual weapons” securing America’s strength. This led to “In God We Trust” appearing on all currency in 1955 and becoming the national motto in 1956, replacing E pluribus unum—“out of many, one.”
In 1950s America, this change caused little controversy. Embedding God in patriotism was widely accepted. The God was non-specific, a national deity blessing the flag without challenging religious loyalties. Even then, there were limits: Congress rejected an amendment declaring submission to “Jesus Christ,” seeing it too extreme. America wanted God on coins and pledges, not a specific God with explicit demands.
In The American Religion, Harold Bloom asserts that Americans who practice as Baptists, Methodists, Mormons, or atheists aren’t practicing traditional Christianity but a form of Gnosticism centered on self-discovery. According to Bloom, Gnosticism holds that the true self is a divine spark, independent of institutions or creeds, existing before Creation and seeking direct union with God. Bloom emphasizes that key moments in American religion are revivals and the writings of Emerson and James, not church councils or confessions. He argues that Americans are convinced of their separateness from Creation, describing a culture ‘furiously searching for the spirit,” but the spirit they seek is ultimately themselves.
Bloom is a frustrating writer with an arrogant style, quick to criticize, and often mistaken about traditions. His portrayals of “Baptist” and “Mormon” are imaginative yet selective. His core idea remains valid: if American religion focuses on the individual self with personal access to the divine, then a God aligned with national symbols is predictable. “Under God” resonated during the Cold War as it depicted a deity supporting national pride, serving as a mascot that magnifies the inner spirit into a nation. Bloom’s post-Christian America doesn’t need to choose between worshiping God or the nation because, in the American Religion, those acts have subtly merged.
But, what do we mean when we use the word God?
Perhaps ‘God’ is best understood not through dense theological terms but through simple, everyday language. Rather than relying on scholarly concepts like omnipotence (all-powerful), immutability (unchanging), and aseity (existing on its own), let’s frame the idea around small prepositions: God is with us, for us, and among us. This is the heart of Rob Bell’s book, What We Talk About When We Talk About God. In the book, he seeks to make the word “God” feel meaningful again.
Bell leans into the preposition “ahead.” God is ahead of us. Note the forward-leaning emphasis. He pictures a God who is always pushing creation forward, calling us out of tired old certainties toward a kinder, more alive way of living. Or, as one of my seminary professors described it, God is not pushing us into the future but, in the future, pulling us toward Godself.
There may be a fair critique of this approach as a “detheologizing” of faith, draining the meaning from ideas like Jesus, sin, and salvation. But Bell shows the same trust in personal growth and wonder that Bloom describes. Is this getting at what is meant in the Pledge of Allegiance, “One nation under God”? A God who-is-ahead is caring and morally serious, a huge step up from the bland national mascot America adopted in 1954. Even so, this is still a very American God, one who resists any middleman and keeps reassuring us that the path we’re already on is the right one. The problem, as you can see, is how easily these ideas of God can be manipulated.
God becomes a divine figure who exists to justify our desires. Each individual can conjure up a deity that blesses consumerism, military might, or simply the internal pleasant feeling as I pursue my happiness.
The Pledge story reveals how a generic, demand-free God becomes intertwined with national identity during a time of fear, and how easily people recite the words because others do. Beneath our differences, Americans worship a God who ultimately reflects the self, a God that can be readily used for the tribe’s purposes without resistance. Even among the well-intentioned, a generous reinterpretation of God can still keep the focus on the self, blessing our momentum instead of challenging it.
Christian Nationalism, in this context, is not an external influence on American faith but a natural extension of it. When the ‘under God” phrase in the pledge reflects a sense of national chosenness rather than divine sovereignty, the progression from “God blesses America” to “America is God’s instrument” is seamless…and dangerous.
When we recite the pledge or note the divine reference on our money, what are we saying? What is the nature of this deity we hold so close? Perhaps my secretive questioning 50 years ago merits a broader conversation. When you read those references to God, what comes to mind for you?
The Notebooks of James Hazelwood
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