with hands over our hearts.

Every morning, at the school in which I work, the students that surround me stand to their feet, set their hands to a posture of sincere devotion, and pledge their allegiance to a national symbol, and to the nation that it represents. Nothing shocking really. I would not have thought twice about it a few years ago. But now I find myself standing in front of the classroom, silently staring at this very familiar symbol, and nervously fidgeting with my tie to avoid placing my hand across my heart. I look out of the corner of my eye... hoping that they will not notice... hoping they will not ask... hoping they will not tell their parents.

A pastor, who I deeply respect, recently accused my generation of viewing patriotism as unchristian. I wrote to tell him that, as far as I am concerned, there may be some truth to that statement. I certainly do not presume to speak for my generation. And I do not want to give the impression that I am organizing rallies and burning flags. I just mean that I won't be draping an American flag over a cross in my lawn, or decorating my car with God Bless America stickers while I blast Lee Greenwood for all to hear. This is not arbitrary rebellion or a misdirected discontent that really should be aimed at my parents. This skepticism towards American ideals, this hesitancy to pledge my allegiance to a nation, comes from serious deliberation about the responsibility of a follower of Christ living in the most powerful nation in the world. Swearing allegiance to anything other than the Kingdom of God—the Kingdom that Jesus announced and initiated—is problematic to say the least. I believe that the Kingdom of God is radically different than the Roman Empire, which the early Christians struggled against, as well as the American empire, which contemporary Christians seem to embrace.

Currently, and there are more I am sure, I see two points of tension between an allegiance to both the American way and the way of Jesus. For one, America’s glorified corporatism and its disproportionate gain in wealth is radically different from the early church’s concern for distributive justice and Jesus’ warnings about wealth. As with all earthly kingdoms, nations, or empires, some people must be oppressed and exploited in order to retain the wealth of others. The Kingdom of God does not work in this way. Jesus initiated the Kingdom with a counter-cultural community that was modeled after the Jewish family. This community called each other brothers and sisters, they shared everything they had and took care of the poor. They were committed to distributive justice... they sold their possessions, did not consider anything their own, and held everything in common. To the pious Romans this was absurd and blasphemous; to Americans this undermines the holy institution of capitalism and reeks of sinister, godless socialism. Either way, both empires reject this way of life.

Secondly, America’s devastating militarism, held in contrast to Jesus’ initiation of a nonviolent Kingdom, creates serious dissonance. Jesus' peaceful death on the cross, the Empire's tool for executing revolutionaries, is a symbol which all the martyrs looked to as a model for nonviolent resistance to injustice… a way to have victory over evil. Jesus initiated a nonviolent revolution that is built on martyrs—men, women, and children who loved their enemies so much that they never lifted a weapon. They refused to participate in the Roman military, and they refused to participate in the violent Jewish revolutions. From the perspectives of the Romans and the revolutionary Jews, both militaristic efforts were ways to secure peace, freedom and justice. America also insists that these things must be secured through violent means. Many Christians today, at least in America, set their hands on their hearts and pledge their allegiance to a kind of freedom and justice that is obtained through weapons and war. God's liberation, as revealed in Jesus, is not anything like the liberation of militant Judaism, Rome, or America. It is the way of the cross... the way that the martyrs understood but many Americans are far from.

I explained to this pastor, the one that I respect, that while there are many things to be thankful for in the nation in which I live, it simply is not enough for me to pledge my allegiance to an earthly kingdom that is not wholly committed to the way of Jesus. Frankly, the American way, so far as it resists evil with bombs and rifles, and gains wealth to store up in banks, all at the expense of others around the world... is not Christian. And it never will be.

I was reading about the history of the Pledge of Allegiance and discovered that there were many tweaks throughout the years. The stiff-armed salute was once the standard posture, but was changed to the more compassionate posture of placing one's hand over their heart because the rigid gesture looked too much like Nazi Germany. Later, the phrase about God was included so that America could be distinct from the godless communists in Russia. These minor adjustments have made people feel better about swearing their allegiance to a nation. But does changing the posture through which one pledges their life to a nation really make a military less destructive? Does including the name of an ambiguous god make an economy more just? Or do these little tweaks blind us to the continuation of a deeper problem? Aren't we still pledging allegiance, with our hands over our hearts, to an entity that has expanding borders, human enemies, monstrous weapons, selfish economic interests, and power-corrupted leaders?

Nationalism has been a force that has set itself against the purposes of God throughout the scriptures, throughout history. Nations, and the forces behind them, are the antagonist. There has never been a kingdom, nation, or empire on earth that has been just or worthy of humanity's allegiance. America is not an exception. So why do those who belong to God's Kingdom pledge their allegiance to anything other than God's Kingdom?