SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES
_________________
No. 12–696
_________________
TOWN OF GREECE, NEW YORK, PETITIONER v.SUSAN
GALLOWAY et al.
on writ of certiorari to the united states
court of appeals for the second circuit
[May 5, 2014]
Justice Kagan, with
whom Justice Ginsburg, Jus-tice Breyer, and Justice Sotomayor join,
dissenting.
For centuries now,
people have come to this country from every corner of the world to
share in the blessing of religious freedom. Our Constitution
promises that they may worship in their own way, without fear of
penalty or danger, and that in itself is a momentous offering. Yet
our Constitution makes a commitment still more
remarkable—that however those individuals worship, they will
countas full and equal American citizens. A Christian, a Jew,a
Muslim (and so forth)—each stands in the same re-lationship
with her country, with her state and localcommunities, and with
every level and body of government. So that when each person
performs the duties or seeks the benefits of citizenship, she does
so not as an adherent to one or another religion, but simply as an
American.
I respectfully dissent
from the Court’s opinion because I think the Town of
Greece’s prayer practices violate that norm of religious
equality—the breathtakingly generous constitutional idea that
our public institutions belong no less to the Buddhist or Hindu
than to the Methodist or Episcopalian. I do not contend that
principle translates here into a bright separationist line. To the
contrary, I
agree with the Court’s decision in Marsh
v. Chambers, 463 U. S. 783 (1983) , upholding the Nebraska
Legislature’s tra-dition of beginning each session with a
chaplain’s prayer. And I believe that pluralism and inclusion
in a town hall can satisfy the constitutional requirement of
neutrality; such a forum need not become a religion-free zone. But
still, the Town of Greece should lose this case. The practice at
issue here differs from the one sustained in Marsh because
Greece’s town meetings involve participation by ordinary
citizens, and the invocations given—directly to those
citizens—were predominantly sectarian in content. Still more,
Greece’s Board did nothing to recognize religious diversity:
In arranging for clergy members to open each meeting, the Town
never sought (except briefly when this suit was filed) to involve,
accommodate, or in any way reach out to adherents of non-Christian
religions. So month in and month out for over a decade, prayers
steeped in only one faith, addressed toward members of the public,
commenced meetings to discuss local affairs and distribute
government benefits. In my view, that practice does not square with
the First Amendment’s promise that every citizen,
irrespective of her religion, owns an equal share in her
government.
I
To begin to see what
has gone wrong in the Town of Greece, consider several hypothetical
scenarios in which sectarian prayer—taken straight from this
case’s record—infuses governmental activities. None
involves, as this case does, a proceeding that could be
characterized as a legislative session, but they are useful to
elaborate some general principles. In each instance, assume (as was
true in Greece) that the invocation is given pursuant to government
policy and is representative of the prayers generally offered in
the designated setting:
You are a party in a case going to trial;
let’s say you have filed suit against the government for
violating one of your legal rights. The judge bangs his gavel to
call the court to order, asks a minister to come to the front of
the room, and instructs the 10 or so individuals present to rise
for an opening prayer. The clergyman faces those in attendance and
says: “Lord, God of all creation, . . . . We
acknowledge the saving sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross. We
draw strength . . . from his resurrection at Easter.
Jesus Christ, who took away the sins of the world, destroyed our
death, through his dying and in his rising, he has restored our
life. Blessed are you, who has raised up the Lord Jesus, you who
will raise us, in our turn, and put us by His
side. . . . Amen.” App. 88a–89a. The
judge then asks your lawyer to begin the trial.
It’s election day, and you head over to
your local polling place to vote. As you and others wait to give
your names and receive your ballots, an election official asks
everyone there to join him in prayer. He says: “We pray this
[day] for the guidance of the Holy Spirit as [we vote]
. . . . Let’s just say the Our Father
together. ‘Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy
name; thy King-dom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in
Heaven. . . .’ ” Id., at 56a. And
after he concludes, he makes the sign of the cross, and appears to
wait expectantly for you and the other prospective voters to do so
too.
You are an immigrant attending a naturalization
ceremony to finally become a citizen. The presiding official tells
you and your fellow applicants that before administering the oath
of allegiance, he would like a minister to pray for you and with
you. The pastor steps to the front of the room, asks everyone to
bow their heads, and recites: “[F]ather, son, and Holy
Spirit—it is with a due sense of reverence and awe that we
come before you [today] seeking your blessing
. . . . You are . . . a wise God, oh Lord,
. . . as evidenced even in the plan of redemption that is
fulfilled in Jesus Christ. We ask that you would give freely and
abundantly wisdom to one and to all. . . in the name of
the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who lives with you and the Holy
Spirit, one God for ever and ever. Amen.” Id., at
99a–100a.
I would hold that the government officials
responsible for the above practices—that is, for prayer
repeatedly invoking a single religion’s beliefs in these
settings—crossed a constitutional line. I have every
confidence the Court would agree. See ante, at 13 (Alito, J.,
concurring). And even Greece’s attorney conceded that
something like the first hypothetical (he was not asked about the
others) would violate the First Amendment. See Tr. of Oral Arg.
3–4. Why?
The reason, of course,
has nothing to do with Christian-ity as such. This opinion is full
of Christian prayers, be-cause those were the only invocations
offered in the Town of Greece. But if my hypotheticals involved the
prayer of some other religion, the outcome would be exactly the
same. Suppose, for example, that government officials in a
predominantly Jewish community asked a rabbi to begin all public
functions with a chanting of the Sh’ma and V’ahavta.
(“Hear O Israel! The Lord our God, the Lord is
One. . . . Bind [these words] as a sign upon your
hand; let them be a symbol before your eyes; inscribe them on the
doorposts of your house, and on your gates.”) Or assume
officials in a mostly Muslim town requested a muezzin to commence
such functions, over and over again, with a recitation of the
Adhan. (“God is greatest, God is greatest. I bear witness
that there is no deity but God. I bear witness that Muhammed is the
Messenger of God.”) In any instance, the question would be
why such government-sponsored prayer of a single religion goes
beyond the constitutional pale.
One glaring problem is
that the government in all these hypotheticals has aligned itself
with, and placed its imprimatur on, a particular religious creed.
“The clearest command of the Establishment Clause,”
this Court has held, “is that one religious denomination
cannot be offi-cially preferred over another.” Larson v.
Valente, 456 U. S. 228, 244 (1982) . Justices have often
differed about a further issue: whether and how the Clause applies
to governmental policies favoring religion (of all kinds) over
non-religion. Compare, e.g., McCreary County v. American Civil
Liberties Union of Ky., 545 U. S. 844, 860 (2005)
(“[T]he First Amendment mandates governmental neutrality
between . . . religion and nonreligion”), with, e.g., id., at
885 (Scalia, J., dissenting) (“[T]he Court’s oft
repeated assertion that the government cannot favor religious
practice [generally] is false”). But no one has disagreed
with this much:
“[O]ur constitutional tradition,
from the Declaration of Independence and the first inaugural
address of Washington . . . down to the present day, has
. . . ruled out of order government-sponsored endorsement
of religion . . . where the endorsement is sectarian, in
the sense of specifying details upon which men and women who
believe in a benevolent, omnipotent Creatorand Ruler of the world
are known to differ (for example, the divinity of Christ).”
Lee v. Weisman, 505 U. S. 577, 641 (1992) (Scalia, J.,
dissenting).
See also County of Allegheny v. American Civil
Liberties Union, Greater Pittsburgh Chapter, 492 U. S. 573
(1989) (“Whatever else the Establishment Clause may
mean[,] . . . [it] means at the very least that
government may not demonstrate a preference for one particular sect
or creed (including a preference for Christianity over other
religions)”).[
1] By
authorizing and overseeing prayersassociated with a single
religion—to the exclusion of all others—the government
officials in my hypotheticalcases (whether federal, state, or local
does not matter) have violated that foundational principle. They
have em-barked on a course of religious favoritism anathema to the
First Amendment.
And making matters
still worse: They have done so in a place where individuals come to
interact with, and partici-pate in, the institutions and processes
of their government. A person goes to court, to the polls, to a
naturalization ceremony—and a government official or his
hand-picked minister asks her, as the first order of
officialbusiness, to stand and pray with others in a way
conflicting with her own religious beliefs. Perhaps she feels
suffi-cient pressure to go along—to rise, bow her head, and
join in whatever others are saying: After all, she wants,very
badly, what the judge or poll worker or immigration official has to
offer. Or perhaps she is made of stronger mettle, and she opts not
to participate in what she does not believe—indeed, what
would, for her, be something like blasphemy. She then must make
known her dissent from the common religious view, and place herself
apart from other citizens, as well as from the officials
responsible for the invocations. And so a civic function of some
kind brings religious differences to the fore: That public
proceeding becomes (whether intentionally or not) an instrument for
dividing her from adherents to the community’s majority
religion, and for altering the very nature of her relationship with
her government.
That is not the country
we are, because that is not what our Constitution permits. Here,
when a citizen stands before her government, whether to perform a
service or request a benefit, her religious beliefs do not enter
into the picture. See Thomas Jefferson, Virginia Act for
Establishing Religious Freedom (Oct. 31, 1785), in 5 The
Founders’ Constitution 85 (P. Kurland & R. Lerner eds.
1987) (“[O]pinion[s] in matters of religion . . . shall in no
wise diminish, enlarge, or affect [our] civil capacities”).
The government she faces favors no particular religion, either by
word or by deed. And that government, in its various processes and
proceedings, imposes no religious tests on its citizens, sorts none
of them by faith, and permits no exclusion based on belief. When a
person goes to court, a polling place, or an immigration
proceeding—I could go on: to a zoning agency, a parole board
hearing, or the DMV—government officials do not engage in
sectarian worship, nor do they ask her to do likewise. They all
participate in the business of government not as Christians, Jews,
Muslims (and more), but only as Americans—none of them
different from any other for that civic purpose. Why not, then, at
a town meeting?
II
In both
Greece’s and the majority’s view, everything I have
discussed is irrelevant here because this case involves “the
tradition of legislative prayer outlined” in Marsh v.
Chambers, 463 U. S. 783 . Ante, at 10. And before I dispute
the Town and Court, I want to give them their due: They are right
that, under Marsh, legislative prayer has a distinctive
constitutional warrant by virtue of tradition. As the Court today
describes, a long history, stretching back to the first session of
Congress (when chaplains began to give prayers in both Chambers),
“ha[s] shown that prayer in this limited context could
‘coexis[t] with the principles of disestablishment and
religious freedom.’ ” Ante, at 10 (quoting Marsh,
463 U. S., at 786). Relying on that “unbroken”
national tradition, Marsh upheld (I think correctly) the Nebraska
Legislature’s practice of opening each day with a
chaplain’s prayer as “a tolerable acknowledgment of
beliefs widely held among the people of this country.” Id.,
at 792. And so I agree with the majority that the issue here is
“whether the prayer practice in the Town of Greece fits
within the tradition long followed in Congress and the state
legislatures.” Ante, at 9.
Where I depart from the
majority is in my reply to that question. The town hall here is a
kind of hybrid. Greece’s Board indeed has legislative
functions, as Congress and state assemblies do—and that means
some opening prayers are allowed there. But much as in my
hypotheticals, the Board’s meetings are also occasions for
ordinary citizens to engage with and petition their government,
often on highly individualized matters. That feature calls for
Board members to exercise special care to ensure that the prayers
offered are inclusive—that they respect each and every member
of the community as an equal citizen.[
2] But the Board, and the clergy members it selected, made
no such effort. Instead, the prayers given in Greece, addressed
directly to the Town’s citizenry, were more sectarian, and
less inclusive, than anything this Court sustained in Marsh. For
those reasons, the prayer in Greece departs from the legislative
tradition that the majority takes as its benchmark.
A
Start by comparing
two pictures, drawn precisely from reality. The first is of
Nebraska’s (unicameral) Legislature, as this Court and the
state senators themselves described it. The second is of town
council meetings in Greece, as revealed in this case’s
record.
It is morning in
Nebraska, and senators are beginning to gather in the State’s
legislative chamber: It is the beginning of the official workday,
although senators may not yet need to be on the floor. See Chambers
v. Marsh, 504 F. Supp. 585, 590, and n. 12 (D. Neb.
1980); Lee, 505 U. S., at 597. The chaplain rises to give the
daily invocation. That prayer, as the senators emphasized when
their case came to this Court, is “directed only at the
legislative membership, not at the public at large.” Brief
for Petitioners in Marsh 30. Any members of the public who happen
to be in attendance—not very many at this early
hour—watch only from the upstairs visitors’ gallery.
See App. 72 in Marsh (senator’s testimony that “as a
practical matter the public usually is not there” during the
prayer).
The longtime chaplain
says something like the following (the excerpt is from his own
amicus brief supporting Greece in this case): “O God, who has
given all persons talents and varying capacities, Thou dost only
require of us that we utilize Thy gifts to a maximum. In this
Legislature to which Thou has entrusted special abilities and
opportunities, may each recognize his stewardship for the people of
the State.” Brief for Robert E. Palmer 9. The chaplain is a
Presbyterian minister, and “some of his earlier
prayers” explicitly invoked Christian beliefs, but he
“removed all references to Christ” after a single
legislator complained. Marsh, 463 U. S., at 793, n. 14;
Brief for Petitioners in Marsh 12. The chaplain also previously
invited other clergy members to give the invocation, including
local rabbis. See ibid.
Now change the channel:
It is evening in Greece, New York, and the Supervisor of the Town
Board calls its monthly public meeting to order. Those meetings (so
says the Board itself) are “the most important part of Town
government.” See Town of Greece, Town Board, online at
http://greeceny.gov/planning/townboard (as visited May 2, 2014 and
available in Clerk of Court’s case file). They serve assorted
functions, almost all actively involving members of the public. The
Board may swear in new Town employees and hand out awards for civic
accomplishments; it always provides an opportunity (called a Public
Forum) for citizens to address local issues and ask for improved
services or new policies (for example, better accommodations for
the disabled or actions to ameliorate traffic congestion, see Pl.
Exhs. 718, 755, in No. 6:08–cv–6088 (WDNY)); and it
usually hears debate on individ-ual applications from residents and
local businesses to obtain special land-use permits, zoning
variances, or other licenses.
The Town Supervisor,
Town Clerk, Chief of Police, and four Board members sit at the
front of the meeting room on a raised dais. But the setting is
intimate: There are likely to be only 10 or so citizens in
attendance. A few may be children or teenagers, present to receive
an award or fulfill a high school civics requirement.
As the first order of
business, the Town Supervisor introduces a local Christian clergy
member—denominated the chaplain of the month—to lead
the assembled persons in prayer. The pastor steps up to a lectern
(emblazoned with the Town’s seal) at the front of the dais,
and with his back to the Town officials, he faces the citizens
present. He asks them all to stand and to “pray as we begin
this evening’s town meeting.” App. 134a. (He does not
suggest that anyone should feel free not to participate.) And he
says:
“The beauties of spring
. . . are an expressive symbol of the new life of the
risen Christ. The Holy Spirit was sent to the apostles at Pentecost
so that they would be courageous witnesses of the Good News to
different regions of the Mediterranean world and beyond. The Holy
Spirit continues to be the inspiration and the source of strength
and virtue, which we all need in the world of today. And so
. . . [w]e pray this evening for the guidance of the Holy
Spirit as the Greece Town Board meets.” Ibid.
After the pastor concludes, Town officials
behind him make the sign of the cross, as do some members of the
audience, and everyone says “Amen.” See 681 F. 3d
20, 24 (CA2 2012). The Supervisor then announces the start of the
Public Forum, and a citizen stands up to complain about the
Town’s contract with a cable company. See App. in No.
10–3635 (CA2), p. A574.
B
Let’s count the
ways in which these pictures diverge. First, the governmental
proceedings at which the prayers occur differ significantly in
nature and purpose. The Nebraska Legislature’s floor
sessions—like those of the U. S. Congress and other
state assemblies—are of, by, and for elected lawmakers.
Members of the public take no part in those proceedings; any few
who attend are spectators only, watching from a high-up
visitors’ gallery. (In that respect, note that neither the
Nebraska Legislature nor the Congress calls for prayer when
citizens themselves participate in a hearing—say, by giving
testimony relevant to a bill or nomination.) Greece’s town
meetings, by contrast, revolve around ordinary members of the
community. Each and every aspect of those sessions provides
opportunities for Town residents to interact with public officials.
And the most important parts enable those citizens to petition
their government. In the Public Forum, they urge (or oppose)
changes in the Board’s policies and priorities; and then, in
what are essentially adjudicatory hearings, they request the Board
to grant (or deny) applications for various permits, licenses, and
zoning variances. So the meetings, both by design and in operation,
allow citizens to actively participate in the Town’s
governance—sharing concerns, airing grievances, andboth
shaping the community’s policies and seeking their
benefits.
Second (and following
from what I just said), the prayers in these two settings have
different audiences. In the Nebraska Legislature, the chaplain
spoke to, and only to, the elected representatives.
Nebraska’s senators were adamant on that point in briefing
Marsh, and the facts fully supported them: As the senators stated,
“[t]he activ-ity is a matter of internal daily procedure
directed only at the legislative membership, not at [members of]
the public.” Brief for Petitioners in Marsh 30; see
Reply Brief for Petitioners in Marsh 8 (“The [prayer]
practice involves no function or power of government
vis-à-vis the Nebraska citizenry, but merely concerns an
internal decision of the Nebraska Legislature as to the daily
procedure by which it conducts its own affairs”). The same is
true in the U. S. Congress and, I suspect, in every other
state legislature. See Brief for Members of Congress as Amici
Curiae 6 (“Consistent with the fact that attending citizens
are mere passive observers, prayers in the House are delivered for
the Representatives themselves, not those citizens”). As
several Justices later noted (and the majority today agrees, see
ante, at 19–20),[
3] Marsh
involved “government officials invok[ing] spiritual
inspiration entirely for their own benefit without directing any
religious message at the citizens they lead.” Lee, 505
U. S., at 630, n. 8 (Souter, J., concurring).
The very opposite is
true in Greece: Contrary to the majority’s characterization,
see ante, at 19–20, the prayers there are directed squarely
at the citizens. Remember that the chaplain of the month stands
with his back to the Town Board; his real audience is the group he
is facing—the 10 or so members of the public, perhaps
including children. See supra, at 10. And he typically addresses
those people, as even the majority observes, as though he is
“directing [his] congregation.” Ante, at 21. He almost
always begins with some version of “Let us all pray
together.” See, e.g., App. 75a, 93a, 106a, 109a. Often, he
calls on everyone to stand and bow their heads, and he may ask them
to recite a common prayer with him. See, e.g., id., at 28a, 42a,
43a, 56a, 77a. He refers, constantly, to a collective
“we”—to “our” savior, for example, to
the presence of the Holy Spirit in “our” lives, or to
“our brother the Lord Jesus Christ.” See, e.g., id., at
32a, 45a, 47a, 69a, 71a. In essence, the chaplain leads, as the
first part of a town meeting, a highly intimate (albeit relatively
brief) prayer service, with the public serving as his
congregation.
And third, the prayers
themselves differ in their content and character. Marsh
characterized the prayers in the Nebraska Legislature as “in
the Judeo-Christian tradition,” and stated, as a relevant
(even if not dispositive) part of its analysis, that the chaplain
had removed all explicitly Christian references at a
senator’s request. 463 U. S., at 793, n. 14. And as
the majority acknowledges, see ante, at 12, Marsh hinged on the
view that “that the prayer opportunity ha[d] [not] been
exploited to proselytize or advance any one . . . faith
or belief”; had it been otherwise, the Court would have
reached a different decision. 463 U. S., at 794–795.
But no one can fairly
read the prayers from Greece’s Town meetings as anything
other than explicitly Christian—constantly and exclusively
so. From the time Greece established its prayer practice in 1999
until litigation loomed nine years later, all of its monthly
chaplains were Christian clergy. And after a brief spell
surrounding the filing of this suit (when a Jewish layman, a Wiccan
priestess, and a Baha’i minister appeared at meetings), the
Town resumed its practice of inviting only clergy from neighboring
Protestant and Catholic churches. See App. 129a–143a. About
two-thirds of the prayers given over this decade or so invoked
“Jesus,” “Christ,” “Your Son,”
or “the Holy Spirit”; in the 18 months before the
record closed, 85% included those references. See generally id., at
27a–143a. Many prayers contained elaborations of Christian
doctrine or recitations of scripture. See, e.g., id., at 129a
(“And in the life and death, resurrection and ascension of
the Savior Jesus Christ, the full extent of your kindness shown to
the unworthy is forever demonstrated”); id., at 94a
(“For unto us a child is born; unto us a son is given. And
the government shall be upon his
shoulder . . .”). And the prayers usually
close with phrases like “in the name of Jesus Christ”
or “in the name of Your son.” See, e.g., id., at 55a,
65a, 73a, 85a.
Still more, the prayers
betray no understanding that the American community is today, as it
long has been, a rich mosaic of religious faiths. See Braunfeld v.
Brown, 366 U. S. 599, 606 (1961) (plurality opinion)
(recognizing even half a century ago that “we are a
cosmopolitan nation made up of people of almost every conceivable
religious preference”). The monthly chaplains appear almost
always to assume that everyone in the room is Christian (and of a
kind who has no objection to government-sponsored worship[
4]). The Town itself has never urged
its chaplains to reach out to members of other faiths, or even to
recall that they might be present. And accordingly, few chaplains
have made any effort to be inclusive; none has thought even to
assure attending members of the public that they need not
participate in the prayer session. Indeed, as the majority
forthrightly recognizes, see ante, at 17, when the plaintiffs here
began to voice concern over prayers that excluded some Town
residents, one pastor pointedly thanked the Board “[o]n
behalf of all God-fearing people” for holding fast, and
another declared the objectors “in the minority and
. . . ignorant of the history of our country.” App.
137a, 108a.
C
Those three
differences, taken together, remove this case from the protective
ambit of Marsh and the history on which it relied. To recap: Marsh
upheld prayer addressed to legislators alone, in a proceeding in
which citizens had no role—and even then, only when it did
not “proselytize or advance” any single religion. 463
U. S., at 794. It was that legislative prayer practice (not
every prayer in a body exercising any legislative function) that
the Court found constitutional given its “unambiguous and
unbroken history.” Id., at 792. But that approved practice,
as I have shown, is not Greece’s. None of the history Marsh
cited—and none the majority details today—supports
calling on citizens to pray, in a manner consonant with only a
single religion’s beliefs, at a participatory public
proceeding, having both legislative and adjudicative components. Or
to use the majority’s phrase, no “history shows that
th[is] specific practice is permitted.” Ante, at 8. And so,
contra the majority, Greece’s prayers cannot simply ride on
the constitutional coattails of the legislative tradition Marsh
described. The Board’s practice must, in its own particulars,
meet constitutional requirements.
And the guideposts for
addressing that inquiry include the principles of religious
neutrality I discussed earlier. See supra, at 4–8. The
government (whether federal, state, or local) may not favor, or
align itself with, any particular creed. And that is nowhere more
true than when officials and citizens come face to face in their
shared institutions of governance. In performing civic functions
and seeking civic benefits, each person of this nation must
experience a government that belongs to one and all, irrespective
of belief. And for its part, each government must ensure that its
participatory processes will not classify those citizens by faith,
or make relevant their religious differences.
To decide how Greece
fares on that score, think again about how its prayer practice
works, meeting after meeting. The case, I think, has a fair bit in
common with my earlier hypotheticals. See supra, at 2–4, 7.
Let’s say that a Muslim citizen of Greece goes before the
Board to share her views on policy or request some permit. Maybe
she wants the Board to put up a traffic light at a dangerous
intersection; or maybe she needs a zoning variance to build an
addition on her home. But just before she gets to say her piece, a
minister deputized by the Town asks her to pray “in the name
of God’s only son Jesus Christ.” App. 99a. She must
think—it is hardly paranoia, but only the truth—that
Christian worship has become entwined with local governance. And
now she faces a choice—to pray alongside the majority as one
of that group or somehow to register her deeply felt difference.
She is a strong person, but that is no easy call—especially
given that the room is small and her every action (or inaction)
will be noticed. She does not wish to be rude to her neighbors, nor
does she wish to aggravate the Board members whom she will soon be
trying to persuade. And yet she does not want to acknowledge
Christ’s divinity, any more than many of her neighbors would
want to deny that tenet. So assume she declines to participate with
the others in the first act of the meeting—or even, as the
majority proposes, that she stands up and leaves the room
altogether, see ante, at 21. At the least, she becomes a different
kind of citizen, one who will not join in the religious practice
that the Town Board has chosen as reflecting its own and the
community’s most cherished beliefs. And she thus stands at a
remove, based solely on religion, from her fellow citizens and her
elected representatives.
Everything about that
situation, I think, infringes the First Amendment. (And of course,
as I noted earlier, it would do so no less if the Town’s
clergy always used the liturgy of some other religion. See supra,
at 4–5.) That the Town Board selects, month after month and
year after year, prayergivers who will reliably speak in the voice
of Christianity, and so places itself behind a single creed. That
in offering those sectarian prayers, the Board’s chosen
clergy members repeatedly call on individuals, prior to
participating in local governance, to join in a form of worship
that may be at odds with their own beliefs. That the clergy thus
put some residents to the unenviable choice of either pretending to
pray like the majority or declining to join its communal activity,
at the very moment of petitioning their elected leaders. That the
practice thus divides the citizenry, creating one class that shares
the Board’s own evident religious beliefs and another (far
smaller) class that does not. And that the practice also alters a
dissenting citizen’s relationship with her government, making
her religious difference salient when she seeks only to engage her
elected representatives as would any other citizen.
None of this means that
Greece’s town hall must be religion- or prayer-free.
“[W]e are a religious people,” Marsh observed, 463
U. S., at 792, and prayer draws some warrant from tradition in
a town hall, as well as in Congress or a state legislature, see
supra, at 8–9. What the circumstances here demand is the
recognition that we are a pluralistic people too. When citizens of
all faiths cometo speak to each other and their elected
representativesin a legislative session, the government must take
espe-cial care to ensure that the prayers they hear will seekto
include, rather than serve to divide. No more isrequired—but
that much is crucial—to treat every citizen, of whatever
religion, as an equal participant in hergovernment.
And contrary to the
majority’s (and Justice Alito’s) view, see ante, at
13–14; ante, at 4–7, that is not difficult to do. If
the Town Board had let its chaplains know that they should speak in
nonsectarian terms, common to diverse religious groups, then no one
would have valid grounds for complaint. See Joyner v. Forsyth
County, 653 F. 3d 341, 347 (CA4 2011) (Wilkinson, J.) (Such
prayers show that “those of different creeds are in the end
kindred spirits, united by a respect paid higher providence and by
a belief in the importance of religious faith”). Priests and
ministers, rabbis and imams give such invocations all the time;
there is no great mystery to the project. (And providing that
guidance would hardly have caused the Board to run afoul of the
idea that “[t]he First Amendment is not a majority
rule,” as the Court (headspinningly) suggests, ante, at 14;
what does that is the Board’s refusal to reach out to members
of minority religious groups.) Or if the Board preferred, it might
have invited clergy of many faiths to serve as chaplains, as the
majority notes that Congress does. See ante, at 10–11. When
one month a clergy member refers to Jesus, and the next to Allah or
Jehovah—as the majority hopefully though counterfactually
suggests happened here, see ante, at 10–11, 15—the
government does not identify itself with one religion or align
itself with that faith’s citizens, and the effect of even
sectarian prayer is transformed. So Greece had multiple ways of
incorporating prayer into its town meetings—reflecting all
the ways that prayer (as most of us know from daily life) can forge
common bonds, rather than divide. See also ante, at 4 (Breyer, J.,
dissenting).
But Greece could not do
what it did: infuse a participatory government body with one (and
only one) faith, so that month in and month out, the citizens
appearing before it become partly defined by their creed—as
those who share, and those who do not, the community’s
major-ity religious belief. In this country, when citizens go
before the government, they go not as Christians or Muslims or Jews
(or what have you), but just as Americans (or here, as Grecians).
That is what it means to be an equal citizen, irrespective of
religion. And that is what the Town of Greece precluded by so
identifying itself with a single faith.
III
How, then, does the
majority go so far astray, allowing the Town of Greece to turn its
assemblies for citizens into a forum for Christian prayer? The
answer does not lie in first principles: I have no doubt that every
member of this Court believes as firmly as I that our institutions
of government belong equally to all, regardless of faith. Rather,
the error reflects two kinds of blindness. First, the major-ity
misapprehends the facts of this case, as distinct from those
characterizing traditional legislative prayer. And second, the
majority misjudges the essential meaning of the religious worship
in Greece’s town hall, along with its capacity to exclude and
divide.
The facts here matter
to the constitutional issue; in-deed, the majority itself
acknowledges that the requisite inquiry—a
“fact-sensitive” one—turns on “the setting
in which the prayer arises and the audience to whom it is
directed.” Ante, at 19. But then the majority glides right
over those considerations—at least as they relate to the Town
of Greece. When the majority analyzes the “setting” and
“audience” for prayer, it focuses almost exclusively on
Congress and the Nebraska Legislature, see ante, at 6–8,
10–11, 15–16, 19–20; it does not stop to analyze
how far those factors differ in Greece’s meetings. The
majority thus gives short shrift to the gap—more like, the
chasm—between a legislative floor session involving only
elected officials and a town hall revolving around ordinary
citizens. And similarly the majority neglects to consider how the
prayers in Greece are mostly addressed to members of the public,
rather than (as in the forums it discusses) to the lawmakers.
“The District Court in Marsh,” the majority expounds,
“described the prayer exercise as ‘an internal
act’ directed at the Nebraska Legislature’s ‘own
members.’ ” Ante, at 19 (quoting Chambers v.
Marsh, 504 F. Supp., at 588); see ante, at 20 (similarly
noting that Nebraska senators “invoke[d] spiritual
inspiration entirely for their own benefit” and that prayer
in Congress is “religious worship for national
representatives” only). Well, yes, so it is in Lincoln, and
on Capitol Hill. But not in Greece, where as I have described, the
chaplain faces the Town’s residents—with the Board
watching from on high—and calls on them to pray together. See
supra, at 10, 12.
And of course—as
the majority sidesteps as well—to pray in the name of Jesus
Christ. In addressing the sectarian content of these prayers, the
majority again changes the subject, preferring to explain what
happens in other government bodies. The majority notes, for
example, that Congress “welcom[es] ministers of many
creeds,” who commonly speak of “values that count as
universal,” ante, at 11, 15; and in that context, the
majority opines, the fact “[t]hat a prayer is given in the
name of Jesus, Allah, or Jehovah . . . does not remove it
from” Marsh’s protection, see ante, at 15. But that
case is not this one, as I have shown, because in Greece only
Christian clergy members speak, and then mostly in the voice of
their own religion; no Allah or Jehovah ever is mentioned. See
supra, at 13–14. So all the majority can point to in the
Town’s practice is that the Board “maintains a policy
of nondiscrimination,” and “represent[s] that it would
welcome a prayer by any minister or layman who wishe[s] to give
one.” Ante, at 17–18. But that representation has never
been publicized; nor has the Board (except for a few months
surrounding this suit’s filing) offered the chaplain’s
role to any non-Christian clergy or layman, in either Greece or its
environs; nor has the Board ever provided its chaplains with
guidance about reaching out to members of other faiths, as most
state legislatures and Congress do. See 732 F. Supp. 2d 195,
197–203 (WDNY 2010); National Conference of State
Legislatures, Inside the Legislative Process: Prayer Practices
5–145, 5–146 (2002); ante, at 5 (Breyer, J.,
dissenting). The majority thus errs in assimilatingthe
Board’s prayer practice to that of Congress or the Ne-braska
Legislature. Unlike those models, the Board is
determinedly—and relentlessly—noninclusive.[
5]
And the month in, month
out sectarianism the Board chose for its meetings belies the
majority’s refrain that the prayers in Greece were
“ceremonial” in nature. Ante, at 16, 19, 21, 23.
Ceremonial references to the divine surely abound: The majority is
right that “the Pledge of Allegiance, inaugural prayer, or
the recitation of ‘God save the United States and this
honorable Court’ ” each fits the bill. Ante, at
19. But prayers evoking “the saving sacrifice of Jesus Christ
on the cross,” “the plan of redemption that is
fulfilled in Jesus Christ,” “the life and death,
resurrection and ascension of the Savior Jesus Christ,” the
workings of the Holy Spirit, the events of Pentecost, and the
belief that God “has raised up the Lord Jesus” and
“will raise us, in our turn, and put us by His side”?
See App. 56a, 88a–89a, 99a, 123a, 129a, 134a. No. These are
statements of profound belief and deep meaning, subscribed to by
many, denied by some. They “speak of the depths of
[one’s] life, of the source of [one’s] being, of
[one’s] ultimate concern, of what [one] take[s] seriously
without any reservation.” P. Tillich, The Shaking of the
Foundations 57 (1948). If they (and the central tenets of other
religions) ever become mere ceremony, this country will be a
fundamentally different—and, I think, poorer—place to
live.
But just for that
reason, the not-so-implicit message of the majority’s
opinion—“What’s the big deal,
anyway?”—is mistaken. The content of Greece’s
prayers is a big deal, to Christians and non-Christians alike. A
person’s response to the doctrine, language, and imagery
contained in those invocations reveals a core aspect of
identity—who that person is and how she faces the world. And
the responses of different individuals, in Greece and across this
country, of course vary. Contrary to the majority’s apparent
view, such sectarian prayers are not “part of our expressive
idiom” or “part of our heritage and tradition,”
assuming the word “our” refers to all Americans. Ante,
at 19. They express beliefs that are fundamental to some, foreign
to others—and because that is so they carry the ever-present
potential to both exclude and divide. The majority, I think,
assesses too lightly the significance of these religious
differences, and so fears too little the “religiously based
divisiveness that the Establishment Clause seeks to avoid.”
Van Orden v. Perry, 545 U. S. 677, 704 (2005) (Breyer, J.,
concurring in judgment). I would treat more seriously the
multiplicity of Americans’ religious commitments, along with
the challenge they can pose to theproject—the distinctively
American project—of creating one from the many, and governing
all as united.
IV
In 1790, George
Washington traveled to Newport, Rhode Island, a longtime bastion of
religious liberty and the home of the first community of American
Jews. Among the citizens he met there was Moses Seixas, one of that
congregation’s lay officials. The ensuing exchange between
the two conveys, as well as anything I know, the promise this
country makes to members of every religion.
Seixas wrote first,
welcoming Washington to Newport. He spoke of “a deep sense of
gratitude” for the new American Government—“a
Government, which to bigotry gives no sanction, to persecution no
assistance—but generously affording to All liberty of
conscience, and immunities of Citizenship: deeming every one, of
whatever Nation, tongue, or language, equal parts of the great
governmental Machine.” Address from Newport Hebrew
Congregation (Aug. 17, 1790), in 6 PGW 286, n. 1 (M.
Mastromarino ed. 1996). The first phrase there is the more poetic:
a government that to “bigotry gives no sanction, to
persecution no assistance.” But the second is actually the
more startling and transformative: a government that, beyond not
aiding persecution, grants “immunities of citizenship”
to the Christian and the Jew alike, and makes them “equal
parts” of the whole country.
Washington responded
the very next day. Like any successful politician, he appreciated a
great line when he saw one—and knew to borrow it too. And so
he repeated, word for word, Seixas’s phrase about neither
sanctioning bigotry nor assisting persecution. But he no less
embraced the point Seixas had made about equality of citizenship.
“It is now no more,” Washington said, “that
toleration is spoken of, as if it was by the indulgence of one
class of people” to another, lesser one. For “[a]ll
possess alike . . . immunities of citizenship.” Letter to
Newport Hebrew Congregation (Aug. 18, 1790), in 6 PGW 285. That is
America’s promise in the First Amendment: full and equal
membership in the polity for members of every religious group,
assuming only that they, like anyone “who live[s] under [the
Government’s] protection[,] should demean themselves as good
citizens.” Ibid.
For me, that remarkable
guarantee means at least this much: When the citizens of this
country approach their government, they do so only as Americans,
not as mem-bers of one faith or another. And that means that evenin
a partly legislative body, they should not
confrontgovernment-sponsored worship that divides them along
religious lines. I believe, for all the reasons I have given, that
the Town of Greece betrayed that promise. I therefore respectfully
dissent from the Court’s decision.