One Nation, Under God

by Jaya Saxena

A few days ago, I helped 100 people become American citizens. I assisted them to their seats, handed out complimentary booklets with printings of historic documents and paintings, and watched as people from ages 18 to 79, from countries like Pakistan and Peru, swore their allegiance to the United States. This is something I never had to do, given that I was born here. It's something I've long nagged my father to do, because though he's been in this country since 1962, he is still an Indian citizen and can't even vote. But watching the ceremony from the back door I saw probably that neither he nor I could fully go through with it. Because I realized something: America might not like us.



I was raised with no religion. This is something a lot of people have a tough time understanding. Yes, my mother considers herself "spiritual," and her mother had strong ties to her community church, and I had Christmas with trees and stockings, and my dad's mother keeps a shrine room with a statue of Shiva, but when it came to telling me what to believe, well...that never happened. I know my parents agreed on this, but my dad was especially insistent, given that he was an atheist. This did not mean that I was raised believing atheism was the only way to go. My parents read me the bible, and told me stories of Hindu gods, and encouraged me to go to my friends' houses for Chanukah or Passover (most of my friends were Jewish), and generally introduced me to every religious belief out there. But I never really believed in any of them.



For a long time I felt embarrassed about this. It's usually ok to say you're not religious in this country, but to flat out say you don't believe in god still sets people off. I've noticed people have stronger reactions abroad; when I studied in Rome for a semester I found myself at dinner with a few locals, and one asked me if I was raised "protestant or Catholic." When I said neither, and that in fact I wasn't raised anything, I got to enjoy a good seven minutes of them talking about how children raised without religion don't have a good foundation for life. I'm almost completely sure this was not meant as a direct insult; they just didn't know what to do with me.



As I got older I became more and more confident in admitting my beliefs aloud. Instead of qualifying every explanation by saying I don't "really" believe in a god or that I haven't found a religion "yet," I learned to accept my beliefs as equal to those of anyone else. And in America, that is how it should be. I remember reading the Bill of Rights in whichever elementary school year you read the Bill of Rights, and reading in the First Amendment that Congress shall make no law establishing a religion. It didn't mean much to me as an eight-ish year old with little sense of what religion was, but for some reason I remember thinking that was really important. I knew religion was a big deal to some people, and I found it cool to live in a country where you didn't have to choose. Later I realized we not only get the freedom to choose whatever religion we want, but also to not choose one at all. And I was proud to be an American.



Until I realized what most Americans think about atheists. Sure, I knew there were those religious folks who said they could never marry an atheist because they wouldn't think of their children as "miracles," but truth be told I could not marry a devout religious person either, so I'll give them that. But here are some numbers: 58% of Americans would not be comfortable with an atheist in the Supreme Court, 53% would not vote for an atheist for President and 47.6% don't want their kids to marry one. Another 39.5% say atheists don't share their vision of America. But whose vision of America is right?



As I watched the naturalization ceremony continue, President Obama appeared on the screen with a pre-recorded message for the new citizens. "This is now, officially, your country," he assured his viewers. "Together, we are a nation not united by any one culture, or ethnicity, or ideology, but by the principles of opportunity, equality and liberty that are enshrined in our founding documents." The new citizens were then promptly led in the Pledge of Allegiance, 1954's "under god" addition and all.



I want to believe President Obama. I want to feel like this is a country where your personal beliefs will not hinder your success. It doesn't bother me that individuals may not condone my way of life. They're entitled to their personal opinions, and if they don't want me marrying their Catholic son that's just fine. But it does hurt me on some level that they think I'm selfish and immoral just because I don't believe in god. I'm not perfect, but I don't think many of those who know me could accuse me of being uncaring. But as far as we've come with civil rights, there is still this underlying belief that you must have some form of god in your life to know right from wrong. As if the fear of punishment or constant watch is a better motivation for good than a belief that people should be treated well motivated only by yourself.



I spewed this all out to my boyfriend over a dinner of matzoh ball soup and pastrami last night, and when he asked about the religious overtones of the ceremony, all I could pull up were the frequency of the phrases "under god" and "god bless America." "Ehh, that's just what they say, " he shrugged. And it's true, at this point those words have lost their meaning to most. But they shouldn't. I'm a firm believer in not saying anything unless I mean it, especially in a religious context. Sometimes it can't be helped, like at Passover dinner, though I'm pretty sure I will never stop feeling guilty about going through the motions of the Haggadah just to get to dinner while others at the table feel the weight of god as they read them. Sometimes I can help it, like when I recite the pledge of allegiance. So I pledge allegiance to this country, but not under god. If I were born elsewhere, perhaps I couldn't be a citizen, but to me that seems pretty damn American.