Christian Nationalism as a Later Construction, Not a Founding Reality

 

It is often assumed, with varying levels of confidence (depending on who is making the assertion), that the United States was founded as a Christian nation and only in recent decades has drifted away from its religious founding and roots. Repeated often enough and this assumption hardens into dogma or a default setting that some would call "common sense." Yet when we set aside inherited beliefs, perceived truths and the sense of certainty that seems requisite for any tribal mindset, we can begin to look at the founding-era record with more objectivity and sincerity.  And if we have the courage to continue this pursuit, a different picture of America's Christian legacy comes into focus. The United States was not established as a Christian nation that later lost its way; it was created as a religiously plural republic whose later generations gradually constructed a specifically Christian (and overwhelmingly Protestant) national identity.

Religion permeated early American life. Churches, sermons, and biblical references were omnipresent. But the mere presence of religion in culture does not determine the character of the state. The relevant question is not whether the founders spoke religiously (of course they did...and did it A LOT), but whether they designed a government that was religiously Christian at its core.

Of course, one could easily point to evidence like Article VI of our Constitution that explicitly prohibits religious tests for office, but as Christian Nationalists will (correctly) point out, this does not prove much of anything.  After all, a formal removal of "religious tests" does not equate to religious neutrality in law, culture or moral assumptions.  And as our Late co-blogger, Brian Tubbs liked to point out, these protections could be seen as safeguards meant to protect religious institutions from government intrusion, not the other way around.  

Yet the "religious tests" and the carefully worded prose of our nation's founding documents still reveal an important truth.  At a time when European nations routinely grounded political authority in Christian identity, the framers produced a national charter that contains no appeal to God, no invocation of Christ, and no declaration of Christianity as a foundation of law. This omission was neither accidental nor uncontested. During ratification debates, objections were raised that the Constitution failed to acknowledge Christianity. Yet no corrective language was ever added. 

It is almost as if this was intentional.  =)

James Madison’s writings explain why. In his Memorial and Remonstrance Against Religious Assessments (1785), which opposed state support for religion in Virginia, Madison argued that religion could be directed only by “reason and conviction, not by force or violence.” Government involvement, he warned, violated conscience and corrupted faith. Years later, reflecting on church–state entanglements in his Detached Memoranda, Madison concluded that religious establishments had been “seen to result in pride and indolence in the Clergy; ignorance and servility in the laity.”

This concern was not unique to Madison. John Adams, whose own religious views would certainly be seen as unorthodox by today's evangelical standards, grasped the institutional meaning of the American experiment. In his Defence of the Constitutions of Government of the United States (1787) Adams wrote, "[T]he strength of a republic depends on religion and morality...these are cultivated voluntarily, not by law."  And even in his famous Treaty of Tripoli, which Christian Nationalists dismiss as a pragmatic compromise at best, or an olive branch to the Muslim world at worst, there is little ambiguity in the words Adams chose to employ: "the government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian Religion.”  Regardless of personal persuasion, the fact remains that it is exceedingly difficult to argue that this sentence somehow misrepresents the founding assumptions about government and religion.

What is striking is that many Christians of this era were deeply uneasy with this arrangement. Ministers complained that the Constitution failed to acknowledge God. Others feared that liberty of conscience would undermine public morality. Their protests are revealing. They suggest that the absence of Christian nationalism was noticed, and contested, by contemporaries, rather than silently assumed as the nation’s foundation.

It is only in later generations that explicitly Christian nationalist language grows more confident. In the decades following the Civil War, American nationalism underwent a transformation. Trauma, reunification, and rapid social change encouraged the fusion of Protestant identity with national purpose. Movements emerged to amend the Constitution to recognize Christianity explicitly -- an effort that would have made little sense if such recognition already existed in any of our founding documents.

By the twentieth century, Christian nationalism became even more firmly embedded, particularly during the Cold War. In response to atheistic communism, religious language was mobilized as a marker of national identity. “Under God” was added to the Pledge of Allegiance in 1954. “In God We Trust” was elevated to official national motto in 1956. These changes were openly acknowledged as modern responses to contemporary threats, yet they were often framed as restorations of original principles.

Over time, this layered memory blurred chronology. The Founders’ religious language was lifted from its context and repurposed. Personal expressions of faith were mistaken for constitutional commitments. The result was a narrative in which Christian nationalism appeared ancient when it was, in fact, largely modern.

What the founding generation created was neither a secular vacuum nor a Christian state. It was something more restrained and, for its time, more radical. In George Washington’s 1790 letter to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, he offered a vision of that order, promising that the government “gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance.” Religious belief was protected precisely because the state claimed no authority to define it.

Christian nationalism, then, is not a suppressed founding inheritance waiting to be reclaimed. It is a later construction -- shaped by war, fear, and cultural conflict -- that draws selectively on the past for legitimacy. Recognizing this does not diminish religion’s role in American history. It clarifies it. And it reminds us that the founders’ most enduring insight may have been their refusal to entrust the power of the state with the fate of the soul.

George Washington’s Religious World: Providence, Pluralism, and the Politics of Faith

With the passing of Blog GIANTS Tom Van Dyke and Brian Tubbs, I realized that the material found on this blog is becoming increasingly more valuable, especially since nothing in this life is guaranteed.  I have been MIA for too long and unfortunately, I did not get to enjoy those final years with my two blog buddies as much as I could have done.  But at least I have the comfort in knowing that I can rectify this mistake and once again participate in this blog's mission, which I still treasure immensely.  

In the vast and contested landscape of early American religion, few figures have generated as much interpretive complexity as George Washington. More than any other founder, Washington’s religious life resists easy classification.   This is not simply because his private beliefs were opaque, but because his practice and rhetoric reveal a distinctive religious posture that helped to shape American religious pluralism itself.

Washington’s own religious identity was rooted in the Anglican tradition: baptized as an infant in the Church of England and later a committed vestryman and churchwarden, he remained at least nominally within the fold of what became the Episcopal Church in the post-Revolutionary era. Yet in practice his religious behavior was enigmatic: he attended services with no real level of regularity, he supported the construction and maintenance of local churches near Mount Vernon, but seldom, it seems, partook in communion rites that were central to orthodox Christian identity.

Washington's "god talk," which has long been a topic of debate for scholars, has only muddied the waters. In both his private and public correspondence, the choice of language that Washington selected reveals a man who was, at the very least, extremely hesitant to invoke traditional Christian terms.  He rarely invoked “Jesus Christ” by name, instead favoring terms such as “Providence,” “the Deity,” or “the Supreme Being.”

However, to focus solely on Washington’s personal belief system risks overlooking a deeper and more historically consequential dimension of his religious influence: his active role in shaping American religious pluralism. Washington’s religious public theology was remarkably inclusive for its time. During the Revolution he encouraged soldiers of many denominations to worship the god of their choosing and arranged for chaplains from a variety of Protestant traditions in the Continental Army. 

As President, he repeatedly reaffirmed that the new republic would not adopt an established church. In correspondence with Baptist, Catholic, Jewish, and other religious communities, Washington articulated a bold vision of religious freedom that went beyond toleration to equal civic standing for all faiths. In his famous 1790 letter to the Hebrew congregations of Newport, Rhode Island, he wrote that the government “gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance,” marking a foundational moment in the pursuit of religious liberty in the American project.

This commitment was not done merely out of political expediency.  In fact, it reflects a theological commitment to the moral and civic value of religious diversity. Washington’s vision did not envision religion as a monolithic public identity, but rather as a constellation of individual consciences grounded in a framework that respected the dignity and autonomy of varied religious expressions.

In this respect, Washington’s religion was not simply a reflection of his inner spiritual life but a living architecture of civic religion --- a set of practices and principles that helped define the relationship between faith and the fledgling republic. He helped inaugurate a civic ethos where the moral force of religion could be acknowledged without imposing sectarian dominance, and where religious liberty was understood as integral to national cohesion rather than a mere afterthought.

Thus, the uniqueness of Washington’s religious legacy lies not in the secret contours of his private belief, but in the public theological grammar he helped to institutionalize: a grammar that acknowledged Providence without sectarian entanglement, affirmed religious expression without establishment, and envisioned a republic in which many traditions could flourish under a shared political covenant.

In the history of early American religion, therefore, Washington stands as a figure whose religious impact is best understood not only through what he believed privately, but through how he shaped the public space in which religion and freedom could co-exist.

Hat tip: my buddy, the Late Pastor Brian Tubbs.  I think he would have gobbled this one up!  

Pastor Brian Tubbs: August 11, 1969 - December 3, 2025

 It is with extreme sorrow that I announce to you, American Creation readers, that Pastor Brian Tubbs passed away earlier this month.  Pastor Tubbs was a founding member of American Creation and was well known for being a passionate student of all things related to the American Revolution.  Pastor Tubbs was particularly fond of defending the legacy of his hero, George Washington, as can be evidenced by the plethora of posts he made related to Washington's religious views, etc.  

Brian Tubbs worked as the Pastor of Olney Baptist Church (Olney, MD) from 2005 until his passing.  Prior to serving as Pastor of OBC, Brian was Pastor of Sligo Baptist Church in Ohio.  Brian was married to his wife (Jane) since 1992 and together they had two children.  

It goes without saying that Brian will be deeply missed by his AC family.  Brian's love and passion for history were one of a kind, and his voice will never be replaced.  I never actually met Brian in person, but he and I became friends 18 years ago, and for nearly two decades we engaged in numerous discussions related to history, religion and the founding legacy of the United States.  There were few minds out there that were as sharp as Brian's mind.  I did not hesitate to consult him on many questions related to my dissertation.  Brian's voice was a trustworthy source.  He knew his history.  He knew Christianity (inside and out).  But most importantly, he LIVED his Christianity.  Brian's example is one that will last forever.  I will not forget my "history buddy' and I am sure that is true for anyone who knew Brian.  

Rest in peace, my friend, and thanks for everything!

Tom Van Dyke, RIP

It's with a heavy heart that I announce Tom Van Dyke, a long time contributor here, passed away in November of this year, 2025. He also blogged at The New Reform Club.

On a personal note, even though we sometimes/often disagreed (we probably agreed more than disagreed), we became and remained close friends. He certainly had a passion for intellectual jousting. And I think we operated on a similar plane. 

He lived in LA but was originally from Levittown, PA, which is a "sister township" in Bucks County from where I grew up and still live (Yardley/Lower Makefield). Though, we both also had a passion for music -- we are both musicians. I haven't been blogging as much as I used to; for years I stopped playing guitar/music. Tom got me back into it and revived my interest in making further progress as a middle aged man. He taught me a lot in the past few years where I got to play with him.

This was part of our ongoing friendship. He would visit his hometown and we would do music together. It's ironic that I'm the one with the music degree from Berklee College of Music, because my "talents" are somewhat "modest" compared to what's out there. He reminded me, on the other hand, that he was "world class good" (in his last band in LA, he played with Glenn Campbell's former band leader). Yeah, unfortunately most musicians who are "that good" (and he was) don't get rich from it. The Berklee professors tended to be "that good" and the vast majority of them weren't rich. 

This clip embedded below is from the Summer of 25 when he last visited. It's an old Christian blues song (familiar to "Sons of Anarchy" fans). Below that is our version of Bob Dylan's "I Shall Be Released" from February 2025, which has a mood that fits for this somber moment of remembrance. 

He was 69.