President Trump’s cabinet convened for the first time this morning. Their session was opened with a prayer led by the Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, Scott Turner. What appeared as an endearing, powerful, and beautiful moment to many has been labelled as an overstep by the government and violation of the First Amendment.
The phrase “separation of church and state” has become a rallying cry for those who see religion and government as inherently at odds. Often traced to Thomas Jefferson’s 1802 letter to the Danbury Baptists, where he described a “wall of separation” between the two, this idea is now wielded as if it were the founding principle of American governance. But a closer look at the historical context of the First Amendment, ratified in 1791, reveals a different story. Far from mandating a secular state scrubbed of religious influence, the amendment was crafted to protect religious liberty and prevent a national church—while leaving room for faith to inform public life.
The Colonial Backdrop: A Patchwork of Faith and Governance
To understand the First Amendment, we have to step back to the colonies. Religion was not some sidelined hobby—it was a cornerstone of life. By the 1770s, nine of the thirteen colonies had established churches, like Virginia’s Anglicanism or Massachusetts’ Congregationalism. These setups weren’t just ceremonial; they were tax-supported and woven into local law. Yet, this didn’t mean tyranny. Dissenters—Baptists, Quakers, Presbyterians—coexisted, often grumbling about favoritism but rarely facing outright persecution after the early Puritan days.
The American Revolution changed the game. As colonists broke from Britain, they didn’t just ditch the king—they questioned the whole idea of centralized authority, including the Church of England’s cozy relationship with the crown. That church, headed by the monarch, symbolized what many feared: a government wielding religion as a tool of control. Virginia’s Patrick Henry and others saw disestablishment as a way to free faith from state overreach, not to banish it. When Virginia ditched its Anglican establishment in 1786 with Jefferson’s Statute for Religious Freedom, it wasn’t about secularizing society—it was about ensuring no single creed got a monopoly.
The Constitutional Debate: Balancing Freedom and Virtue
Fast forward to 1787. The Constitution’s framers, hashing things out in Philadelphia, barely mentioned religion. Article VI banned religious tests for office, a jab at old-world oaths, but the document itself was silent on faith’s role. That silence sparked uproar. Anti-Federalists like Patrick Henry worried a strong federal government might trample local religious traditions—or worse, set up its own church. Federalists, including James Madison, countered that a national church was impossible in a diverse republic. The Bill of Rights, including the First Amendment, was their compromise.
The amendment’s text is short but loaded: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” Notice the target—Congress. This wasn’t about states, where religious establishments lingered into the 1830s (Massachusetts held out until 1833). It was about stopping a federal power grab. The “establishment” clause aimed to block a national church, not to erase religion from governance. The “free exercise” bit doubled down, guarding citizens’ and communities’ rights to live their faith, even in public.
The founders weren’t dreaming of a godless state. Madison, the amendment’s architect, saw religion as “the basis and foundation of government” in his Memorial and Remonstrance (1785). Washington’s 1796 Farewell Address called it “indispensable” to political prosperity. These weren’t outliers—most framers saw faith as a moral glue for a free society. Their issue was not with religion influencing law; it was with law dictating religion.
Jefferson’s Wall: A Misread Metaphor?
Jefferson’s “wall of separation” letter gets trotted out as gospel, but context matters. He wrote it as president, reassuring Baptists that the federal government would not meddle in their worship. It was a one-way promise—government hands off religion—not a blueprint for purging faith from public squares. Jefferson himself attended church services in the Capitol and funded missionaries to Native tribes. If he meant a total split, his actions did not match.
Meanwhile, early Congresses acted like the amendment left wiggle room. They hired chaplains, declared days of prayer, and funded religious schools on public land. The Northwest Ordinance of 1787, reaffirmed in 1789, said religion and morality were “necessary to good government” and tied them to public education. This was not a secular free-for-all—it was a system where faith and state overlapped without merging.
The Modern Misstep
Today’s strict-separation crowd—think of court battles over nativity scenes or school prayers—leans on a 20th-century twist. Cases like Engel v. Vitale (1962), banning school-led prayer, or Lemon v. Kurtzman (1971), with its “excessive entanglement” test, frame the First Amendment as a bulwark against religion in public life. But that’s a leap from 1791. The framers didn’t fear a Ten Commandments plaque—they feared a federal bishopric.
The historical First Amendment is not a stance against separation in some absolute sense. It does not demand religion run the show. But it also does not build a wall. It is a shield—against a national church, against coercion—leaving states and citizens free to blend faith and civic life as they see fit. A complete separation of faith from governance risks ignoring a key foundation of the nation’s moral and ethical framework.
