THE RED FLAGS ASKS: IS E PLURIBUS UNUM DEAD IN AMERICA?

E pluribus unumLatin for "Out of many, one"[1][2] (alternatively translated as "One out of many"[3] or "One from many")[4] — is a 13-letter traditional motto of the United States, appearing on the Great Seal along with Annuit cœptis (Latin for "he approves the undertaking [lit. 'things undertaken']") and Novus ordo seclorum (Latin for "New order of the ages"), and adopted by an Act of Congress in 1782.[2] Never codified by law, E pluribus unum was considered a de facto motto of the United States[5] until 1956 when the United States Congress passed an act (H. J. Resolution 396), adopting "In God We Trust" as the official motto.[6]

Let America Be America Again
Langston Hughes

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this ‘homeland of the free.’)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one’s own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That’s made America the land it has become.
O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home—
For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,
And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came
To build a ‘homeland of the free’.

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we’ve dreamed
And all the songs we’ve sung
And all the hopes we’ve held
And all the flags we’ve hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay—
Except the dream that’s almost dead today.

O, let America be America again –
The land that never has been yet –
And yet must be – the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME —
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath—
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain—
All, all the stretch of these great green states—
And make America again!

U.S.

A Quiet Exodus: Why Black Worshipers Are Leaving White Evangelical Churches

Charmaine Pruitt attending service at Mount Olive Baptist Church in Fort Worth in January. Ms. Pruitt has not regularly attended a church since the fall of 2016. Credit Ilana Panich-Linsman for The New York Times

FORT WORTH — Charmaine Pruitt wrote the names of 12 churches on a sheet of paper, tore the paper into 12 strips, and dropped them into a Ziploc bag. It was Sunday morning and time to pick which church to attend.

This time of the week two years earlier, there would have been no question. Ms. Pruitt, 46, would have been getting ready for her regular Saturday afternoon worship service, at a former grocery store overhauled into a state-of-the-art, 760-seat sanctuary. In the darkened hall, where it would have been hard to tell she was one of the few black people in the room, she would have listened to the soaring anthems of the praise bands. She would have watched, on three giant screens, a sermon that over the course of a weekend would reach one of the largest congregations in the country.

But Ms. Pruitt has not been to that church since the fall of 2016. That was when she concluded that it was not, ultimately, meant for people like her. She has not been to any church regularly since.

Ms. Pruitt pulled one of the slips out of the Ziploc bag. Mount Olive Fort Worth. O.K. That was where she would go that day.

In the last couple of decades, there had been signs, however modest, that eleven o’clock on Sunday morning might cease to be the most segregated hour in America. “Racial reconciliation” was the talk of conferences and the subject of formal resolutions. Large Christian ministries were dedicated to the aim of integration, and many black Christians decided to join white-majority congregations. Some went as missionaries, called by God to integrate. Others were simply drawn to a different worship style — short, conveniently timed services that emphasized a personal connection to God.

The fruits could be seen if you looked in the right places, particularly within the kind of nondenominational megachurches that gleam from the roadsides here in the sprawl of Dallas-Fort Worth. In 2012, according to a report from the National Congregation Study, more than two-thirds of those attending white-majority churches were worshiping alongside at least some black congregants, a notable increase since a similar survey in 1998. This was more likely to be the case in evangelical churches than in mainline Protestant churches, and more likely in larger ones than in smaller ones.

Photo
Ms. Pruitt brought her mother’s Bible to the service at Mount Olive. Credit Ilana Panich-Linsman for The New York Times

Then came the 2016 election.

Black congregants — as recounted by people in Chicago, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Fort Worth and elsewhere — had already grown uneasy in recent years as they watched their white pastors fail to address police shootings of African-Americans. They heard prayers for Paris, for Brussels, for law enforcement; they heard that one should keep one’s eyes on the kingdom, that the church was colorblind, and that talk of racial injustice was divisive, not a matter of the gospel. There was still some hope that this stemmed from an obliviousness rather than some deeper disconnect.

Then white evangelicals voted for Mr. Trump by a larger margin than they had voted for any presidential candidate. They cheered the outcome, reassuring uneasy fellow worshipers with talk of abortion and religious liberty, about how politics is the art of compromise rather than the ideal. Christians of color, even those who shared these policy preferences, looked at Mr. Trump’s comments about Mexican immigrants, his open hostility to N.F.L. players protesting police brutality and his earlier “birther” crusade against President Obama, claiming falsely he was not a United States citizen. In this political deal, many concluded, they were the compromised.

“It said, to me, that something is profoundly wrong at the heart of the white church,” said Chanequa Walker-Barnes, a professor of practical theology at the McAfee School of Theology at Mercer University in Atlanta.

Early last year, Professor Walker-Barnes left the white-majority church where she had been on staff. Like an untold number of black Christians around the country, many of whom had left behind black-majority churches, she is not sure where she belongs anymore.

“We were willing to give up our preferred worship style for the chance to really try to live this vision of beloved community with a diverse group of people,” she said. “That didn’t work.”

It has been a scattered exodus — a few here, a few there — and mostly quiet, more in fatigue and heartbreak than outrage. Plenty of multiracial churches continue to thrive, and at some churches, tough conversations on race have begun. The issue has long shadowed the evangelical movement. The Rev. Billy Graham, who died last month at 99, bravely integrated the audience at his crusades and preached alongside Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., but kept silent at key moments.

But for many black churchgoers, the current breach feels particularly painful. Lecrae, a prominent black Christian hip-hop artist, has spoken openly of his “divorce” with white evangelicalism, Christian counselors have talked frankly of the psychological toll of trying to hang on in multiracial churches and others have declared it time to consider the serious downsides of worship integration.

“Everything we tried is not working,” said Michael Emerson, the author of “Divided by Faith,” a seminal work on race relations within the evangelical church. “The election itself was the single most harmful event to the whole movement of reconciliation in at least the past 30 years,” he said. “It’s about to completely break apart.”

‘This Is What I Need’

Ms. Pruitt had been a churchgoing Christian since the mid-1990s, first joining a mostly black megachurch in Dallas, where she was on the dance team. Inspiration began to flag after some years there, and one night she was drawn to a pastor whom she saw on television. He was, she later learned, Robert Morris of Gateway Church.

Photo
The Rev. Robert Morris delivering a sermon at Gateway Church in Dallas. Credit Ilana Panich-Linsman for The New York Times
Photo
Gateway’s congregation is mostly white. Credit Ilana Panich-Linsman for The New York Times

Gateway started nearly 20 years ago with a prayer group in Pastor Morris’s living room, and has in the past two decades grown to become a $140 million ministry, drawing upward of 31,000 people a week to six campuses in the Dallas-Fort Worth area.

The scale and thoroughness of the operation are extraordinary: the attractive ledgestone-and-wood arena — with a coffee kiosk serving a Gateway blend — at the church’s Southlake, Tex., headquarters; the worship music booming over a first-class sound system; the robust programs for children, single parents and a host of other groups.

Above all, for many members, there are Pastor Morris’s weekly messages themselves: wry, often self-deprecating, sprinkled with biblical scholarship and often affectingly personal.

“This is what I need right now,” thought Ms. Pruitt, moved to tears when she first went to orientation programs at the church. Members who happened to sit near her at worship came to ask about her when she missed a service, and some came to her grandmother’s wake. One couple began to refer to her as a daughter.

The congregation is mostly white, but not entirely; the pastors at two of the six satellite campuses are black men. Church videos and promotional materials are intentionally filled with people of color. The goal, says Pastor Morris, who is white and has a black son-in-law, is to have a church that looks like heaven as described in the book of Revelation: “from every nation, tribe, people and language.”

The general whiteness of the congregation is not something that every black worshiper dwells on anyway. To grow up black, said Carla McKissic Smith, who started going to Gateway in 2009, is to get used to being in the minority.

As the headlines of the outside world turned to police shootings and protest, little changed inside majority-white churches. Black congregants said that beyond the occasional vague prayer for healing a divided country, or a donation drive for law enforcement, they heard nothing.

Tamice Namae Spencer, who used to attend a mostly white church in Kansas City, said her fellow congregants did not seem to even know the name Trayvon Martin, the black teenager killed in Florida at the hands of George Zimmerman in 2012. And when Ms. Spencer brought up his death, she said white church members asked why she was being divisive.

“It’s not even on your radar and I can’t sleep over it,” she remembered thinking. “And now that I’m being vocal, you think I’ve changed.”

At Gateway, black worshipers would discreetly ask one another if they were the only ones who noticed that one could talk about seemingly anything but racism, a feeling one former congregant described as an out-of-body experience.

Jeremiah White, who is black, was so excited about Gateway when a friend brought him there years earlier that he insisted his parents come. Now a teenager, with his parents volunteering at the church for 12-hour days on weekends, Jeremiah had also begun to notice “the little details”: an associate pastor, trying to get the attention of a black man, jokingly referring to him as the one God left in the oven a little long; a youth leader suggesting Jeremiah must be new because he was black.

Photo
Jeremiah White made a cartoon and sent it to church leaders in the summer of 2016. Credit Ilana Panich-Linsman for The New York Times

In the summer of 2016, Jeremiah made a cartoon and sent it to church leaders, depicting an elephant sitting on a man, squeezing out his insides. The elephant was labeled “Racism”; the man’s insides were labeled “Gateway Church.”

Politics From the Pulpit

Pastor Morris had become aware of the disquiet himself, mainly from listening to black pastors at other churches. Still, while they would meet and talk and pray, not a lot would happen.

“We didn’t talk about it much before because we didn’t know,” he said of whites generally, in a recent interview at one of Gateway’s satellite campuses. “We just thought, ‘O.K. there was a tremendous racial problem in America. The civil rights movement came, laws have been passed now and we’re over that now. We passed it.’ What has happened in the last few years is many white pastors are beginning to realize we never dealt with this scripturally. We never truly repented.”

In July 2016, days after a black man enraged about police brutality shot and killed five Dallas police officers, Jeremiah’s father had breakfast with one of the church’s senior pastors. He spoke to him frankly about race and his frustration with the church’s silence.

After that breakfast, church staff began discussing how to face matters directly. In meetings over the coming weeks, black staff members would talk of their own past struggles with racism and the grim parts of American history that still went unacknowledged. A pastor at Ms. Pruitt’s church campus pledged from the pulpit to tear down racism, one conversation at a time.

Then, the next month, Pastor Morris preached a message entitled “Still.” It began with a series of qualifications. God is still in control. There is no perfect political candidate. Voting is choosing the lesser of evils. Yes, there is gender inequality. And yes, there is a race problem in the country, though racism, implying hate, is not the right word. Pastor Morris said it was a subtler problem of prejudice.

Then he focused attention on the upcoming presidential race.

“The election,” he said, “is extremely important.”

The country is in trouble financially; a critical Supreme Court appointment awaits; one of the major parties advocates using “taxpayer dollars, your dollars,” for abortion. Evangelical Christians sit at home on Election Days, while “those who are trying to change our Constitution” go to the polls, and look at what happens: Prayer is taken out of the schools.

“We are going the wrong way,” he concluded. “We need to get involved, we need to pray and we need to vote.”

He never said to vote for Mr. Trump. But the implication in the sermon, and in the leaflets that were handed out at church, was lost on no one: that one must vote to uphold Christian values, and that the Republican Party platform reflected those values. And Mr. Trump was the Republican candidate.

Ms. Pruitt sent messages to several white couples she had befriended at the church, telling them she was going to take some time off. She had become uneasy at a church, she told them, that speaks of overcoming racism on one Sunday “and then turns around later and asks me to support” Trump, who she believed was “a racist candidate.”

One of the couples invited her to come to their house. Sitting in the living room over a plate of brownies, Ms. Pruitt explained to the wife how disturbed she had been by the clear inference from the pulpit that she should support a candidate whose behavior and rhetoric were so offensive that she could not bring herself even to say his name.

The woman explained that a Trump victory had been prophesied and handed Ms. Pruitt a two-page printout, which began: “The Spirit of God says, ‘I have chosen this man, Donald Trump, for such a time as this.’” Barack Obama, the woman continued, should never have been president, since he was not born a United States citizen. The visit ended with the woman suggesting that Ms. Pruitt’s discomfort at the church was God telling her it was time to move on.

Ms. Pruitt never went back.

Jeremiah’s family also left for good that summer, though he has heard that pictures of them still show up in church videos. They have not found a church since.

One young black woman who had been going to Gateway for some years said she has begun exploring Ethiopian Christian traditions. Another woman, a former church staff member who still goes to Gateway, cut back her attendance from five days a week to once a month, if that, and is now praying for guidance on whether to leave altogether.

Carla McKissic Smith stayed until one Sunday in March 2017, when a guest speaker, a messianic rabbi from New Jersey, spoke of the 2016 election from the pulpit, saying that it “threatened to seal the acceleration of America’s apostasy,” but that Mr. Trump’s victory was the fulfillment of God’s covenant with Israel. “It was not the Russian intervention that determined it,” he said to a congregation that frequently broke into applause and cheers. “The intervention was a bit higher.”

Three months later, Ms. Smith’s father, the Rev. Dwight McKissic of Cornerstone Baptist Church in Dallas, would introduce a resolution condemning the alt-right at the annual Southern Baptist Convention in Phoenix. Unlike the resolutions condemning gambling and Planned Parenthood, his alt-right resolution didn’t make it out of committee.

Pastor McKissic was told that racism had already been adequately addressed by the Southern Baptists, that the resolution was inflammatory and that sympathy for the alt-right was not an issue in the church. Word leaked, embarrassing the convention, and a new version of the resolution was reintroduced and overwhelmingly passed, albeit with some language changed and with an added tally of the Southern Baptists’ past efforts against racism.

“At that point,” Ms. Smith said, “I was no longer surprised.”

Mr. Trump’s win, which one elder at Gateway described as a “supernatural answer to prayer,” generated a frisson of excitement at the church. Pastor Morris told the congregation that he was one of Mr. Trump’s faith advisers. The church was a sponsor of an inaugural ball in January 2017.

Jelani Lewis, one of the two black campus pastors, knew this was creating unease among many black members of Gateway. A black deacon approached him at one point and asked how he should reconcile his trust in Pastor Morris with “some of the things that I’m seeing from the current president.” We trust in God, Pastor Lewis assured him, and we can trust in the heart of our pastor.

‘A Lack of Understanding’

As a tumultuous 2017 unfolded, Pastor Morris understood that some wanted him to address race directly.

“As I prayed about it as I talked with black pastor friends of mine, I realized I don’t really understand the depth of the pain they feel,” he said. “This is personal to them — it was history to me. I would talk to my friend and it was personal to him because it was his great-grandfather.”

In October 2017, he preached a message entitled “A Lack of Understanding.” Addressing “all the ignorant white people,” and acknowledging his own past grappling with prejudice, the pastor listed reasons that racism was evil — among them that it was an affront to God’s creation, given that Adam and Eve were probably brown-skinned. A video played of a black pastor talking of the racism he experienced as a child in East St. Louis in the 1960s. Pastor Morris concluded by urging people of color in the congregation to spread out and pray with whites in small groups.

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Pastor Morris, center, praying during a service at Gateway. Credit Ilana Panich-Linsman for The New York Times

The response, Pastor Morris said, was “overwhelmingly positive,” and indeed the reaction on Facebook suggests as much. Pastor Lewis remembers a black woman weeping in her seat, and was thankful that he finally had an answer for black worshipers questioning how their church truly felt about racism.

On Facebook some white congregants were angered at the sermon, especially at the focus on white people as the root of the problem.

“I believe Robert spoke from his flesh in this message,” one of them, Steve Groebe, later recalled in a Facebook message. “I gave him another week to correct the message and make it biblical. I didn’t feel he did that so I left the church.”

The message was not better received among the black worshipers who had already left the church. It did not, several said, address the enduring structural legacy of racism, instead adhering to the usual evangelical focus on individual prejudice. Most significantly, they said, it gave no sense that Pastor Morris had ever wrestled with his support of Donald Trump.

“I wasn’t wrestling,” Pastor Morris said of his feelings in 2016, going on to explain that he was not wrestling now, either. “We were electing what we felt was the person who held the values that the church loves dearly the most. That doesn’t mean that he’s perfect. But I do believe after spending time with him that he really wants to learn, that he really wants to do a good job for all Americans. I really do.”

There are larger racial injustices in the country, he said, and those injustices need to be fixed — though not in ways that would enable dependence, he clarified, but rather to “give people a hand up, not a handout.” He noted the low black unemployment rate under Mr. Trump. The answer to racism lies primarily in the church, not the government, he said, and now that white pastors are waking up to the pain that black people have felt, it is in many ways a hopeful time.

“I think that there’s an anger and a hurt right now, and a fear,” he said, “and I think that people are going to get past that.”

There is now a team at the church focused exclusively on making the church more diverse. On the weekend before Martin Luther King Jr. Day, a 49-second video of excerpts from King’s “I Have a Dream” speech was played at worship services — “a monumental moment in Gateway church history,” one pastor said, the first time that the day had been acknowledged.

The Inheritance

When Ms. Pruitt arrived at Mount Olive, the service had already begun, with a 26-person choir singing a gospel hymn, accompanied by a drummer and a man on a Hammond organ. This was one of the first churches she had attended for worship in a year and a half. She had kept giving tithe money to Gateway for some months after she stopped going, but after learning about the inaugural ball, started donating to another church. On most Sundays she had stayed at home, watching services online.

The sanctuary at Mount Olive was brightly lit, and the one video screen advertised an essay contest for Black History Month. The congregation was older and more formally dressed than those of many megachurches. But for two young white men, all the worshipers were African-American.

Photo
The congregation at Mount Olive. Credit Ilana Panich-Linsman for The New York Times

The Rev. William Timothy Glynn, wearing a sharply knotted necktie and a silk pocket square, began his message, on Elisha’s taking up the mantle of the prophet Elijah. It was less a sermon, he acknowledged, and more a collection of observations; among them was that we inherit things from the past for a reason, and thus should not quickly discard them.

“We live in this day where they want to throw what grandma had out the window; that’s old and that’s fogy and we don’t have church like that no more, and we don’t like that no more, amen?” Pastor Glynn half sang. “Have you ever thought about what their religion got them through? It got them through slavery, Jim Crow, segregation, from the back of the bus to the front of the bus. It brought them through everything anybody could throw and that’s all they had. It built churches and schools and hospitals. Millions? They didn’t have thousands! They had nickels and dimes!”

Service ended in just under two hours. Ms. Pruitt needed to go pick up her mother, who was finishing her shift as a police dispatcher. On the way she drove out of Fort Worth, past a little community founded by a group of emancipated slaves, near the headquarters of an international ministry run by a Gateway elder. Then, with her mother, she went back to the house they share in a quiet neighborhood named after a Confederate major.

The next week Ms. Pruitt considered the other 11 churches on the list, and on Sunday, she tried someplace new.


Views: 78

Comment by mary gravitt on April 28, 2018 at 1:35pm

It seems that the more religious America becomes, the crueler we become.  Hypocrisy is rampant as racism take center stage managed from the White House House and it White Evangelical cohorts.  Fascism cannot exist without its right-wing religionist.  E pluribus Urum is being destroyed by the Church binding itself with the State.  This is why the Early American Baptist wrote Thomas Jefferson pleading with him not to combine Church and State.

These religionist want US to be "good" in the eyes of men, yet sinners against God--whomever or whatever it may be.

Comment by koshersalaami on April 28, 2018 at 2:02pm

It’s not about how religious America becomes - what I’ve read is that America is actually becoming less religious - it’s about how the separation of Church and State is being far less honored by one political party. That really started with Jerry Falwell’s Moral Majority, Pat Robertson’s Christian Broadcasting Network, and Ralph Reed in the Christian Coalition. 

Comment by koshersalaami on April 28, 2018 at 2:03pm

By the way, thanks for the article about Black parishioners in conservative megachurches. It was way interesting.

Comment by Foolish Monkey on April 29, 2018 at 6:35am

Mary the article about black parishioners is about the saddest i've read re religion and race in a long while. I cant wrap my brain around a person of faith reconciling the maggot President with a biblical prophesy, turning ones back on reality and creatinga convenient fantasy in the face of this overwhelming degeneracy and rampant racism. He is a one man blight. Shame on these so called men and women of god. 

I have my own struggle with god, religion and faith and I had come to feel somewhat positive about these obviously integrated churches and think - maybe they ve gotten something right - at least in terms of community. But thinking about trumps evangelical support I have to wonder at what cost?

Comment by koshersalaami on April 29, 2018 at 8:24am

We should make sure this quiet exodus isn’t quiet. (Ron posted the Quiet Exodus article this morning with this in mind.) 

These pastors have turned their backs on a lot about Trump personally, and in some ways they had to sell their souls to do it. I think some of them had to come to terms with Trump’s sexual conduct because they found that offensive. What I think is really telling is what they didn’t have to come to terms with. 

And there’s so much of that. His racism is front and center - these pastors have basically indicated to their Black parishioners that they don’t count. That the pastors had discussions about Trump’s sexual conduct has been widely reported, but not that they’d have discussions about much else regarding his moral conduct. I don’t recall them calling him out on his mocking a reporter’s disability, for example, something that would have affected my life a great deal more if my son were alive to see it. And of course the man bears false witness to an absurd and obvious extent. But there’s another aspect of his conduct that they ignored that almost surprises me:

The man is a cheat. A thief. I don’t only mean what he’s done to investors, I mean what he’s done interpersonally to a lot of small businesses, face to face. An example of this, and there are a ton of examples like this, concerns the caterer for his second wedding, to Marla Maples. He hired a caterer, negotiated a price, agreed to it, and she as a small business catered the wedding. She then had a lot of bills to pay out of that price including food and labor.

Trump said: I did you a favor by having you cater this as you will get a lot of business from having done my wedding. I don’t pay for favors.

And he stiffed her, damned near putting her under as she scrambled to find the cash to pay her bills. Small businesses don’t have the money to go after Trump legally, because he’ll fight them in court. They basically have no real recourse. 

I couldn’t ignore that. I have no idea how clergy can ignore it. And, frankly, I have no idea how voters could ignore it. But there’s an awful lot voters ignored that I can’t relate to at. All. 

Collect them all. 

Comment by Ron Powell on April 29, 2018 at 12:51pm

There's a reason why the Founding Fathers and Constitution Framers insisted that the  First Amendment be about the separation of church and state...

Comment by Ron Powell on April 30, 2018 at 10:44am

To answer your question:

"Is E pluribus unum" dead in America?"

No, it isn't, but it should be...

Comment by mary gravitt on May 1, 2018 at 12:51pm

E pluribus unum has made the United States the envy of the world.  I tried to explain to a Chinese friend of mine from Main Land China that she could be an American, but I could never be a Chinese.  At first she was puzzled, but then I explained that I could not be Chinese because I am not Chinese.

In America, an American is just that.  People came to America from other countries because they were locked out of their "birth" societies, and some made fortunes.  They were able to educate their children because the US does not have school fees for public education.  They found drinking water from the indoor taps as well as indoor plumbing.

According to some historians, who are not propagandists, the Founders came to America, in most cases to be free of religion.  Others came to America because Europe was too free of religion.  America has fallen into the trap that Thomas Jefferson tried to avoid: Combining church And State.

This combining Church and State has destablized the Middle East as well as E pluribus urum because it is splitting US into sects and taking away Americanism that guarantee us freedom from religion.

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