Capture the flag
A federal judge in California recently followed precedent set last year by the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals and declared teacher-led recitations of the Pledge of Allegiance in public schools unconstitutional religious coercion, igniting a cultural rematch over the line “one nation, under God.”
Perhaps a fitting metaphor for the "under God" skirmish is a literal game of capture the flag, with the "blue" and "red" teams competing to lash their ideals to Old Glory and the communal definition of what it means to be American.
God is, of course, on the red team, which makes for a pretty tough defensive line. As one of the "deitistically unencumbered" ("atheist" is such an ugly word), I instinctively root for the scrappy heathens in blue, fighting to keep one faith from claiming patriotic authority and leaving everyone else on the civic sidelines.
That's why it pains me to say I've never found the phrase "under God" particularly offensive.
I went through much of elementary school mechanically reciting the Pledge, wondering in the back of my mind just what exactly a "legiance" was, anyway, and why the flag needed so many of them. But mostly I just daydreamed.
When the Pledge fell out of the classroom routine during the 1990s, I didn't think about it again until I had to–when I was a senior in high school, just after Sept. 11, 2001.
When I first heard of the post-9/11 Pledge revival, I thought it was harmless, flag-waving fluff. But then, things began to snowball as patriotic appeals started accumulating more religious rhetoric.
By the time I arrived at school Sept. 14 on the presidentially decreed "Day of Prayer and Remembrance," I had a vague sense of unease at already being a bad American for conscientiously objecting to half that directive.
I then discovered my school's version of "remembrance" entailed hanging tacky red, white and blue streamers in the halls and putting Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the U.S.A." on repeat play over the loudspeakers between classes. Otherwise, were told not to take up instructional time discussing current events.
By the time the fourth period announcements came on, the Pledge and "under God" were looking just as hollow, and I knew there was no way I could stand for them.
Though I can't say listening to "under God" from my chair truly upset me that day or any other, from then on I always heard it.
Every weekday, "under God" reminded me that division is as much a part of America as unity. Neither the blue nor the red team can capture the flag as long as this country remains a multi-faith democracy–it’s the battle itself that defines what the flag stands for as a common national symbol.
As the weeks passed, I developed a kind of rebellious pride in sitting out the Pledge, in the daily nod I exchanged with the faux-hawked, nail polish-wearing Anarchist-in-training across the room.
I may have missed the bandwagon patriotism of the moment, but I had caught another great American value: independence.
Perhaps a fitting metaphor for the "under God" skirmish is a literal game of capture the flag, with the "blue" and "red" teams competing to lash their ideals to Old Glory and the communal definition of what it means to be American.
God is, of course, on the red team, which makes for a pretty tough defensive line. As one of the "deitistically unencumbered" ("atheist" is such an ugly word), I instinctively root for the scrappy heathens in blue, fighting to keep one faith from claiming patriotic authority and leaving everyone else on the civic sidelines.
That's why it pains me to say I've never found the phrase "under God" particularly offensive.
I went through much of elementary school mechanically reciting the Pledge, wondering in the back of my mind just what exactly a "legiance" was, anyway, and why the flag needed so many of them. But mostly I just daydreamed.
When the Pledge fell out of the classroom routine during the 1990s, I didn't think about it again until I had to–when I was a senior in high school, just after Sept. 11, 2001.
When I first heard of the post-9/11 Pledge revival, I thought it was harmless, flag-waving fluff. But then, things began to snowball as patriotic appeals started accumulating more religious rhetoric.
By the time I arrived at school Sept. 14 on the presidentially decreed "Day of Prayer and Remembrance," I had a vague sense of unease at already being a bad American for conscientiously objecting to half that directive.
I then discovered my school's version of "remembrance" entailed hanging tacky red, white and blue streamers in the halls and putting Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the U.S.A." on repeat play over the loudspeakers between classes. Otherwise, were told not to take up instructional time discussing current events.
By the time the fourth period announcements came on, the Pledge and "under God" were looking just as hollow, and I knew there was no way I could stand for them.
Though I can't say listening to "under God" from my chair truly upset me that day or any other, from then on I always heard it.
Every weekday, "under God" reminded me that division is as much a part of America as unity. Neither the blue nor the red team can capture the flag as long as this country remains a multi-faith democracy–it’s the battle itself that defines what the flag stands for as a common national symbol.
As the weeks passed, I developed a kind of rebellious pride in sitting out the Pledge, in the daily nod I exchanged with the faux-hawked, nail polish-wearing Anarchist-in-training across the room.
I may have missed the bandwagon patriotism of the moment, but I had caught another great American value: independence.
posted by Holly at 1:39 AM
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