NOTICE: This opinion is subject to
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SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES
_________________
Nos. 17–1717 and 18–18
_________________
THE AMERICAN LEGION, et al.,
PETITIONERS
17–1717
v.
AMERICAN HUMANIST ASSOCIATION,
et al.; and
MARYLAND-NATIONAL CAPITAL PARK AND
PLANNING COMMISSION, PETITIONER
18–18
v.
AMERICAN HUMANIST ASSOCIATION,
et al.
on writs of certiorari to the united states
court of appeals for the fourth circuit
[June 20, 2019]
Justice Alito announced the judgment of the
Court and delivered the opinion of the Court with respect to Parts
I, II–B, II–C, III, and IV, and an opinion with respect to Parts
II–A and II–D, in which The Chief Justice, Justice Breyer, and
Justice Kavanaugh join.
Since 1925, the Bladensburg Peace Cross (Cross)
has stood as a tribute to 49 area soldiers who gave their lives in
the First World War. Eighty-nine years after the dedication of the
Cross, respondents filed this lawsuit, claiming that they are
offended by the sight of the memorial on public land and that its
presence there and the expenditure of public funds to maintain it
violate the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment. To remedy
this violation, they asked a federal court to order the relocation
or demolition of the Cross or at least the removal of its arms. The
Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit agreed that the memorial is
unconstitutional and remanded for a determination of the proper
remedy. We now reverse.
Although the cross has long been a preeminent
Christian symbol, its use in the Bladensburg memorial has a special
significance. After the First World War, the picture of row after
row of plain white crosses marking the overseas graves of soldiers
who had lost their lives in that horrible conflict was emblazoned
on the minds of Americans at home, and the adoption of the cross as
the Bladensburg memorial must be viewed in that historical context.
For nearly a century, the Bladensburg Cross has expressed the
community’s grief at the loss of the young men who perished, its
thanks for their sacrifice, and its dedication to the ideals for
which they fought. It has become a prominent community landmark,
and its removal or radical alteration at this date would be seen by
many not as a neutral act but as the manifestation of “a hostility
toward religion that has no place in our Establishment Clause
traditions.”
Van Orden v.
Perry,
545
U.S. 677, 704 (2005) (Breyer, J., concurring in judgment). And
con- trary to respondents’ intimations, there is no evidence of
discriminatory intent in the selection of the design of the
memorial or the decision of a Maryland commission to maintain it.
The Religion Clauses of the Constitution aim to foster a society in
which people of all beliefs can live together harmoniously, and the
presence of the Bladensburg Cross on the land where it has stood
for so many years is fully consistent with that aim.
I
A
The cross came into widespread use as a symbol
of Christianity by the fourth century,[
1] and it retains that meaning today. But there are many
contexts in which the symbol has also taken on a secular meaning.
Indeed, there are instances in which its message is now almost
entirely secular.
A cross appears as part of many registered
trademarks held by businesses and secular organizations, including
Blue Cross Blue Shield, the Bayer Group, and some Johnson &
Johnson products.[
2] Many of
these marks relate to health care, and it is likely that the
association of the cross with healing had a religious origin. But
the current use of these marks is indisputably secular.
The familiar symbol of the Red Cross—a red cross
on a white background—shows how the meaning of a symbol that was
originally religious can be transformed. The International
Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) selected that symbol in 1863
because it was thought to call to mind the flag of Switzerland, a
country widely known for its neutrality.[
3] The Swiss flag consists of a white cross on a red
background. In an effort to invoke the message associated with that
flag, the ICRC copied its design with the colors inverted. Thus,
the ICRC selected this symbol for an essentially secular reason,
and the current secular message of the symbol is shown by its use
today in nations with only tiny Christian populations.[
4] But the cross was originally chosen
for the Swiss flag for religious reasons.[
5] So an image that began as an expression of faith was
transformed.
The image used in the Bladensburg memorial—a
plain Latin cross[
6]—also took
on new meaning after World War I. “During and immediately after the
war, the army marked soldiers’ graves with temporary wooden crosses
or Stars of David”—a departure from the prior practice of marking
graves in American military cemeteries with uniform rectangular
slabs. G. Piehler, Remembering War the American Way 101 (1995);
App. 1146. The vast majority of these grave markers consisted of
crosses,[
7] and thus when
Americans saw photographs of these cemeteries, what struck them
were rows and rows of plain white crosses. As a result, the image
of a simple white cross “developed into a ‘central symbol’ ”
of the conflict.
Ibid. Contemporary literature, poetry, and
art reflected this powerful imagery. See Brief for Veterans of
Foreign Wars of the United States et al. as
Amici
Curiae 10–16. Perhaps most famously, John McCrae’s poem, In
Flanders Fields, began with these memorable lines:
“In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row.”
In Flanders Fields and Other Poems 3 (G. P.
Putnam’s Sons ed. 1919). The poem was enormously popular. See P.
Fussell, The Great War and Modern Memory 248–249 (1975). A 1921 New
York Times article quoted a description of McCrae’s composition as
“ ‘the poem of the army’ ” and “ ‘of all those who
understand the meaning of the great conflict.’ ”[
8] The image of “the crosses, row on row,”
stuck in people’s minds, and even today for those who view World
War I cemeteries in Europe, the image is arresting.[
9]
After the 1918 armistice, the War Department
announced plans to replace the wooden crosses and Stars of David
with uniform marble slabs like those previously used in American
military cemeteries. App. 1146. But the public outcry against that
proposal was swift and fierce. Many organizations, including the
American War Mothers, a nonsectarian group founded in 1917, urged
the Department to retain the design of the temporary markers.
Id., at 1146–1147. When the American Battle Monuments
Commission took over the project of designing the headstones, it
responded to this public sentiment by opting to replace the wooden
crosses and Stars of David with marble versions of those symbols.
Id., at 1144. A Member of Congress likewise introduced a
resolution noting that “these wooden symbols have, during and since
the World War, been regarded as emblematic of the great sacrifices
which that war entailed, have been so treated by poets and artists
and have become peculiarly and inseparably associated in the
thought of surviving relatives and comrades and of the Nation with
these World War graves.” H. Res. 15, 68th Cong., 1 (1924), App.
1163–1164. This national debate and its outcome confirmed the
cross’s widespread resonance as a symbol of sacrifice in the
war.
B
Recognition of the cross’s symbolism extended
to local communities across the country. In late 1918, residents of
Prince George’s County, Maryland, formed a committee for the
purpose of erecting a memorial for the county’s fallen soldiers.
App. 988–989, 1014. Among the committee’s members were the mothers
of 10 deceased soldiers.
Id., at 989. The committee decided
that the memorial should be a cross and hired sculptor and
architect John Joseph Earley to design it. Although we do not know
precisely why the committee chose the cross, it is unsurprising
that the committee—and many others commemorating World War
I[
10]—adopted a symbol so
widely associated with that wrenching event.
After selecting the design, the committee turned
to the task of financing the project. The committee held
fundraising events in the community and invited donations, no
matter the size, with a form that read:
“We, the citizens of Maryland, trusting in
God, the Supreme Ruler of the Universe, Pledge Faith in our
Brothers who gave their all in the World War to make [the] World
Safe for Democracy. Their Mortal Bodies have turned to dust, but
their spirit Lives to guide us through Life in the way of
Godliness, Justice and Liberty.
“With our Motto, ‘One God, One Country, and One
Flag’ We contribute to this Memorial Cross Commemorating the Memory
of those who have not Died in Vain.”
Id., at. 1251.
Many of those who responded were local residents
who gave small amounts: Donations of 25 cents to 1 dollar were the
most common.
Id., at 1014. Local businesses and political
leaders assisted in this effort.
Id., at 1014, 1243. In
writing to thank United States Senator John Walter Smith for his
donation, committee treasurer Mrs. Martin Redman explained that
“[t]he chief reason I feel as deeply in this matter [is that], my
son, [Wm.] F. Redman, lost his life in France and because of that I
feel that our memorial cross is, in a way, his grave stone.”
Id., at 1244.
The Cross was to stand at the terminus of
another World War I memorial—the National Defense Highway, which
connects Washington to Annapolis. The community gathered for a
joint groundbreaking ceremony for both memorials on September 28,
1919; the mother of the first Prince George’s County resident
killed in France broke ground for the Cross.
Id., at 910. By
1922, however, the committee had run out of funds, and progress on
the Cross had stalled. The local post of the American Legion took
over the project, and the monument was finished in 1925.
The completed monument is a 32-foot tall Latin
cross that sits on a large pedestal. The American Legion’s emblem
is displayed at its center, and the words “Valor,” “Endurance,”
“Courage,” and “Devotion” are inscribed at its base, one on each of
the four faces. The pedestal also features a 9- by 2.5-foot bronze
plaque explaining that the monument is “Dedicated to the heroes of
Prince George’s County, Maryland who lost their lives in the Great
War for the liberty of the world.”
Id., at 915
(capitalization omitted). The plaque lists the names of 49 local
men, both Black and White, who died in the war. It identifies the
dates of American involvement, and quotes President Woodrow
Wilson’s request for a declaration of war: “The right is more
precious than peace. We shall fight for the things we have always
carried nearest our hearts. To such a task we dedicate our lives.”
Ibid.
At the dedication ceremony, a local Catholic
priest offered an invocation.
Id., at 217–218. United States
Representative Stephen W. Gambrill delivered the keynote address,
honoring the “ ‘men of Prince George’s County’ ” who
“ ‘fought for the sacred right of all to live in peace and
security.’ ”
Id., at 1372. He encouraged the commu-
nity to look to the “ ‘token of this cross, symbolic of
Calvary,’ ” to “ ‘keep fresh the memory of our boys who
died for a righteous cause.’ ”
Ibid. The ceremony
closed with a benediction offered by a Baptist pastor.
Since its dedication, the Cross has served as
the site of patriotic events honoring veterans, including
gatherings on Veterans Day, Memorial Day, and Independence Day.
Like the dedication itself, these events have typically included an
invocation, a keynote speaker, and a benediction.
Id., at
182, 319–323. Over the years, memorials honoring the veterans of
other conflicts have been added to the surrounding area, which is
now known as Veterans Memorial Park. These include a World War II
Honor Scroll; a Pearl Harbor memorial; a Korea-Vietnam veterans
memorial; a September 11 garden; a War of 1812 memorial; and two
recently added 38-foot-tall markers depicting British and American
soldiers in the Battle of Bladensburg.
Id., at 891–903,
1530. Because the Cross is located on a traffic island with limited
space, the closest of these other monuments is about 200 feet away
in a park across the road.
Id., at 36, 44.
As the area around the Cross developed, the
monument came to be at the center of a busy intersection. In 1961,
the Maryland-National Capital Park and Planning Commission
(Commission) acquired the Cross and the land on which it sits in
order to preserve the monument and address traffic-safety
concerns.[
11]
Id., at
420–421, 1384–1387. The American Legion reserved the right to
continue using the memorial to host a variety of ceremonies,
including events in memory of departed veterans.
Id., at
1387. Over the next five decades, the Commission spent
approximately $117,000 to maintain and preserve the monument. In
2008, it budgeted an additional $100,000 for renovations and
repairs to the Cross.[
12]
C
In 2012, nearly 90 years after the Cross was
dedicated and more than 50 years after the Commission acquired it,
the American Humanist Association (AHA) lodged a complaint with the
Commission. The complaint alleged that the Cross’s presence on
public land and the Commission’s maintenance of the memorial
violate the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment.
Id., at 1443–1451. The AHA, along with three residents of
Washington, D. C., and Maryland, also sued the Commission in
the District Court for the District of Maryland, making the same
claim. The AHA sought declaratory and injunctive relief requiring
“removal or demolition of the Cross, or removal of the arms from
the Cross to form a non-religious slab or obelisk.” 874 F.3d 195,
202, n. 7 (CA4 2017) (internal quotation marks omitted). The
American Legion intervened to defend the Cross.
The District Court granted summary judgment for
the Commission and the American Legion. The Cross, the District
Court held, satisfies both the three-pronged test announced in
Lemon v.
Kurtzman, 403 U.S.
602 (1971)
, and the analysis applied by Justice Breyer
in upholding the Ten Commandments monument at issue in
Van
Orden v.
Perry,
545
U.S. 677. Under the
Lemon test, a court must ask whether
a challenged government action (1) has a secular purpose; (2) has a
“principal or primary effect” that “neither advances nor inhibits
religion”; and (3) does not foster “an excessive government
entanglement with religion,” 403 U. S., at 612–613 (internal
quotation marks omitted). Applying that test, the District Court
determined that the Commission had secular purposes for acquiring
and maintaining the Cross—namely, to commemorate World War I and to
ensure traffic safety. The court also found that a reasonable
observer aware of the Cross’s history, setting, and secular
elements “would not view the Monument as having the effect of
impermissibly endorsing religion.” 147 F. Supp. 3d 373, 387
(Md. 2015). Nor, according to the court, did the Commission’s
maintenance of the memorial create the kind of “continued and
repeated government involvement with religion” that would
constitute an excessive entanglement.
Ibid. (internal
quotation marks and emphasis omitted). Finally, in light of the
factors that informed its analysis of
Lemon’s “effects”
prong, the court concluded that the Cross is constitutional under
Justice Breyer’s approach in
Van Orden. 147 F. Supp.
3d, at 388–390.
A divided panel of the Court of Appeals for the
Fourth Circuit reversed. The majority relied primarily on the
Lemon test but also took cognizance of Justice Breyer’s
Van Orden concurrence. While recognizing that the Commission
acted for a secular purpose, the court held that the Bladensburg
Cross failed
Lemon’s “effects” prong because a reasonable
observer would view the Commission’s ownership and maintenance of
the monument as an endorsement of Christianity. The court
emphasized the cross’s “inherent religious meaning” as the
“ ‘preeminent symbol of Christianity.’ ” 874 F. 3d,
at 206–207. Although conceding that the monument had several
“secular elements,” the court asserted that they were
“overshadow[ed]” by the Cross’s size and Christian
connection—especially because the Cross’s location and condition
would make it difficult for “passers-by” to “read” or otherwise
“examine” the plaque and American Legion emblem.
Id., at
209–210. The court rejected as “too simplistic” an argument
dppefending the Cross’s constitutionality on the basis of its
90-year history, suggesting that “[p]erhaps the longer a violation
persists, the greater the affront to those offended.”
Id.,
at 208. In the alternative, the court concluded, the Commission had
become excessively entangled with religion by keeping a display
that “aggrandizes the Latin cross” and by spending more than
de
minimis public funds to maintain it.
Id., at
211–212.
Chief Judge Gregory dissented in relevant part,
contending that the majority misapplied the “effects” test by
failing to give adequate consideration to the Cross’s “physical
setting, history, and usage.”
Id., at 218 (opinion
concurring in part and dissenting in part). He also disputed the
majority’s excessive-entanglement analysis, noting that the
Commission’s maintenance of the Cross was not the kind of
“comprehensive, discriminating, and continuing state surveillance”
of religion that
Lemon was con-cerned to rule out. 874
F. 3d, at 221 (internal quotation marks omitted).
The Fourth Circuit denied rehearing en banc over
dissents by Chief Judge Gregory, Judge Wilkinson, and Judge
Niemeyer. 891 F.3d 117 (2018). The Commission and the American
Legion each petitioned for certiorari. We granted the petitions and
consolidated them for argument. 586 U. S. ___ (2016).
II
A
The Establishment Clause of the First
Amendment provides that “Congress shall make no law respecting an
establishment of religion.” While the concept of a formally
established church is straightforward, pinning down the meaning of
a “law respecting an establishment of religion” has proved to be a
vexing problem. Prior to the Court’s decision in
Everson v.
Board of Ed. of Ewing, 330 U.S. 1
(1947), the Establishment Clause was applied only to the Federal
Government, and few cases involving this provision came before the
Court. After
Everson recognized the incorporation of the
Clause, however, the Court faced a steady stream of difficult and
controversial Establishment Clause issues, ranging from Bible
reading and prayer in the public schools,
Engel v.
Vitale,
370 U.S.
421 (1962);
School Dist. of Abington Township v.
Schempp,
374 U.S.
203 (1963), to Sunday closing laws,
McGowan v.
Maryland,
366 U.S.
420 (1961), to state subsidies for church-related schools or
the parents of students attending those schools,
Board of Ed. of
Central School Dist. No. 1 v.
Allen,
392 U.S.
236 (1968);
Everson, supra. After grappling with such
cases for more than 20 years,
Lemon ambitiously attempted to
distill from the Court’s existing case law a test that would bring
order and predictability to Establishment Clause decisionmaking.
That test, as noted, called on courts to examine the purposes and
effects of a challenged government action, as well as any
entanglement with religion that it might entail.
Lemon, 403
U. S., at 612–613. The Court later elaborated that the
“effect[s]” of a challenged action should be assessed by asking
whether a “reasonable observer” would conclude that the action
constituted an “endorsement” of religion.
County of
Allegheny v.
American Civil Liberties Union, Greater
Pittsburgh Chapter,
492
U.S. 573, 592 (1989);
id., at 630 (O’Connor, J.,
concurring in part and concurring in judgment).
If the
Lemon Court thought that its test
would provide a framework for all future Establishment Clause
decisions, its expectation has not been met. In many cases, this
Court has either expressly declined to apply the test or has simply
ignored it. See
Zobrest v.
Catalina Foothills School
Dist.,
509 U.S. 1
(1993);
Board of Ed. of Kiryas Joel Village School Dist. v.
Grumet,
512 U.S.
687 (1994);
Rosenberger v.
Rector and Visitors of
Univ. of Va.,
515 U.S.
819 (1995);
Capitol Square Review and Advisory Bd. v.
Pinette,
515 U.S.
753 (1995);
Good News Club v.
Milford Central
School,
533 U.S.
98 (2001);
Zelman v.
Simmons-Harris,
536 U.S.
639 (2002);
Cutter v.
Wilkinson,
544 U.S.
709 (2005);
Van Orden,
545
U.S. 677;
Hosanna-Tabor Evangelical Lutheran Church and
School v.
EEOC,
565 U.S.
171 (2012);
Town of Greece v.
Galloway, 572 U.S.
565 (2014);
Trump v.
Hawaii, 585 U. S. ___
(2018).
This pattern is a testament to the
Lemon
test’s shortcomings. As Establishment Clause cases involving a
great array of laws and practices came to the Court, it became more
and more apparent that the
Lemon test could not resolve
them. It could not “explain the Establishment Clause’s tolerance,
for example, of the prayers that open legislative meetings,
. . . certain references to, and invocations of, the
Deity in the public words of public officials; the public
references to God on coins, decrees, and buildings; or the
attention paid to the religious objectives of certain holidays,
including Thanksgiving.”
Van Orden,
supra, at 699
(opinion of Breyer, J.). The test has been harshly criticized by
Members of this Court,[
13]
lamented by lower court judges,[
14] and questioned by a diverse roster of
scholars.[
15]
For at least four reasons, the
Lemon
test presents particularly daunting problems in cases, including
the one now before us, that involve the use, for ceremonial,
celebratory, or commemorative purposes, of words or symbols with
religious associations.[
16]
Together, these considera- tions counsel against efforts to
evaluate such cases under
Lemon and toward application of a
presumption of constitutionality for longstanding monuments,
symbols, and practices.
B
First, these cases often concern
monuments, symbols, or practices that were first established long
ago, and in such cases, identifying their original purpose or
purposes may be especially difficult. In
Salazar v.
Buono,
559 U.S.
700 (2010), for example, we dealt with a cross that a small
group of World War I veterans had put up at a remote spot in the
Mojave Desert more than seven decades earlier. The record contained
virtually no direct evidence regarding the specific motivations of
these men. We knew that they had selected a plain white cross, and
there was some evidence that the man who looked after the monument
for many years—“a miner who had served as a medic and had thus
presumably witnessed the carnage of the war firsthand”—was said not
to have been “particularly religious.”
Id., at 724 (Alito,
J., concurring in part and concurring in judgment).
Without better evidence about the purpose of the
monument, different Justices drew different inferences. The
plurality thought that this particular cross was meant “to
commemorate American servicemen who had died in World War I” and
was not intended “to promote a Christian message.”
Id., at
715. The dissent, by contrast, “presume[d]” that the cross’s
purpose “was a Christian one, at least in part, for the simple
reason that those who erected the cross chose to commemorate
American veterans in an explicitly Christian manner.”
Id.,
at 752 (opinion of Stevens, J.). The truth is that 70 years after
the fact, there was no way to be certain about the motivations of
the men who were responsible for the creation of the monument. And
this is often the case with old monuments, symbols, and practices.
Yet it would be inappropriate for courts to compel their removal or
termination based on supposition.
Second, as time goes by, the purposes
associated with an established monument, symbol, or practice often
multiply. Take the example of Ten Commandments monuments, the
subject we addressed in
Van Orden, 545
U.S. 677, and
McCreary County v.
American Civil
Liberties Union of Ky.,
545 U.S.
844 (2005). For believing Jews and Christians, the Ten
Commandments are the word of God handed down to Moses on Mount
Sinai, but the image of the Ten Commandments has also been used to
convey other meanings. They have historical significance as one of
the foundations of our legal system, and for largely that reason,
they are depicted in the marble frieze in our courtroom and in
other prominent public buildings in our Nation’s capital. See
Van Orden,
supra, at 688–690. In
Van Orden and
McCreary, no Member of the Court thought that these
depictions are unconstitutional. 545 U. S., at 688–690;
id., at 701 (opinion of Breyer, J.);
id., at 740
(Souter, J., dissenting).
Just as depictions of the Ten Commandments in
these public buildings were intended to serve secular purposes, the
litigation in
Van Orden and
McCreary showed that
secular motivations played a part in the proliferation of Ten
Commandments monuments in the 1950s. In 1946, Minnesota Judge E. J.
Ruegemer proposed that the Ten Commandments be widely disseminated
as a way of combating juvenile delinquency.[
17] With this prompting, the Fraternal Order of
the Eagles began distributing paper copies of the Ten Commandments
to churches, school groups, courts, and government offices. The
Eagles, “while interested in the religious aspect of the Ten
Commandments, sought to highlight the Commandments’ role in shaping
civic morality.”
Van Orden,
supra, at 701 (opinion of
Breyer, J.). At the same time, Cecil B. DeMille was filming The Ten
Commandments.[
18] He learned
of Judge Ruegemer’s campaign, and the two collaborated, deciding
that the Commandments should be carved on stone tablets and that
DeMille would make arrangements with the Eagles to help pay for
them, thus simultaneously promoting his film and public awareness
of the Decalogue. Not only did DeMille and Judge Ruegemer have
different purposes, but the motivations of those who accepted the
monuments and those responsible for maintaining them may also have
differed. As we noted in
Pleasant Grove City v.
Summum,
555 U.S.
460, 476 (2009), “the thoughts or sentiments expressed by a
government entity that accepts and displays [a monument] may be
quite different from those of either its creator or its donor.”
The existence of multiple purposes is not
exclusive to longstanding monuments, symbols, or practices, but
this phenomenon is more likely to occur in such cases. Even if the
original purpose of a monument was infused with religion, the
passage of time may obscure that sentiment. As our society becomes
more and more religiously diverse, a community may preserve such
monuments, symbols, and practices for the sake of their historical
significance or their place in a common cultural heritage. Cf.
Schempp, 374 U. S., at 264–265 (Brennan, J.,
concurring) (“[The] government may originally have decreed a Sunday
day of rest for the impermissible purpose of supporting religion
but abandoned that purpose and retained the laws for the
permissible purpose of furthering overwhelmingly secular
ends”).
Third, just as the purpose for
maintaining a monument, symbol, or practice may evolve, “[t]he
‘message’ conveyed . . . may change over time.”
Summum, 555 U. S., at 477. Consider, for example, the
message of the Statue of Lib- erty, which began as a monument to
the solidarity and friendship between France and the United States
and only decades later came to be seen “as a beacon welcoming
immigrants to a land of freedom.”
Ibid.
With sufficient time, religiously expressive
monuments, symbols, and practices can become embedded features of a
community’s landscape and identity. The community may come to value
them without necessarily embracing their religious roots. The
recent tragic fire at Notre Dame in Paris provides a striking
example. Although the French Republic rigorously enforces a secular
public square,[
19] the
cathedral remains a symbol of national importance to the religious
and nonreligious alike. Notre Dame is fundamentally a place of
worship and retains great religious importance, but its meaning has
broadened. For many, it is inextricably linked with the very idea
of Paris and France.[
20]
Speaking to the nation shortly after the fire, President Macron
said that Notre Dame “ ‘is our history, our literature, our
imagination. The place where we survived epidemics, wars,
liberation. It has been the epicenter of our
lives.’ ”[
21]
In the same way, consider the many cities and
towns across the United States that bear religious names. Religion
undoubtedly motivated those who named Bethlehem, Pennsylvania; Las
Cruces, New Mexico; Providence, Rhode Island; Corpus Christi,
Texas; Nephi, Utah, and the countless other places in our country
with names that are rooted in religion. Yet few would argue that
this history requires that these names be erased from the map. Or
take a motto like Arizona’s, “
Ditat Deus” (“God enriches”),
which was adopted in 1864,[
22] or a flag like Maryland’s, which has included two
crosses since 1904.[
23]
Familiarity itself can become a reason for preservation.
Fourth, when time’s passage imbues a
religiously expressive monument, symbol, or practice with this kind
of familiarity and historical significance, removing it may no
longer appear neutral, especially to the local community for which
it has taken on particular meaning. A government that roams the
land, tearing down monuments with religious symbolism and scrubbing
away any reference to the divine will strike many as aggressively
hostile to religion. Militantly secular regimes have carried out
such projects in the past,[
24] and for those with a knowledge of history, the image
of monuments being taken down will be evocative, disturbing, and
divisive. Cf.
Van Orden, 545 U. S., at 704 (opinion of
Breyer, J.) (“[D]isputes concerning the removal of longstanding
depictions of the Ten Commandments from public buildings across the
Nation . . . could thereby create the very kind of
religiously based divisiveness that the Establishment Clause seeks
to avoid”).
These four considerations show that retaining
established, religiously expressive monuments, symbols, and
practices is quite different from erecting or adopting new ones.
The passage of time gives rise to a strong presumption of
constitutionality.
C
The role of the cross in World War I memorials
is il- lustrative of each of the four preceding considerations.
Immediately following the war, “[c]ommunities across America built
memorials to commemorate those who had served the nation in the
struggle to make the world safe for democracy.” G. Piehler, The
American Memory of War, App. 1124. Although not all of these
communities included a cross in their memorials, the cross had
become a symbol closely linked to the war. “[T]he First World War
witnessed a dramatic change in . . . the symbols
used to commemorate th[e] service” of the fallen soldiers.
Id., at 1123. In the wake of the war, the United States
adopted the cross as part of its military honors, establishing the
Distinguished Service Cross and the Navy Cross in 1918 and 1919,
respectively. See
id., at 147–148. And as already noted, the
fallen soldiers’ final resting places abroad were marked by white
crosses or Stars of David. The solemn image of endless rows of
white crosses became inextricably linked with and symbolic of the
ultimate price paid by 116,000 soldiers. And this relationship
between the cross and the war undoubtedly influenced the design of
the many war memorials that sprang up across the Nation.
This is not to say that the cross’s association
with the war was the sole or dominant motivation for the inclusion
of the symbol in every World War I memorial that features it. But
today, it is all but impossible to tell whether that was so. The
passage of time means that testimony from those actually involved
in the decisionmaking process is generally unavailable, and
attempting to uncover their motivations invites rampant
speculation. And no matter what the original purposes for the
erection of a monument, a community may wish to preserve it for
very different reasons, such as the historic preservation and
traffic-safety concerns the Commission has pressed here.
In addition, the passage of time may have
altered the area surrounding a monument in ways that change its
meaning and provide new reasons for its preservation. Such changes
are relevant here, since the Bladensburg Cross now sits at a busy
traffic intersection, and numerous additional monuments are located
nearby.
Even the AHA recognizes that there are instances
in which a war memorial in the form of a cross is unobjectionable.
The AHA is not offended by the sight of the Argonne Cross or the
Canadian Cross of Sacrifice, both Latin crosses commemorating World
War I that rest on public grounds in Arlington National Cemetery.
The difference, according to the AHA, is that their location in a
cemetery gives them a closer association with individual
gravestones and interred soldiers. See Brief for Respondents 96;
Tr. of Oral Arg. 52.
But a memorial’s placement in a cemetery is not
necessary to create such a connection. The parents and other
relatives of many of the war dead lacked the means to travel to
Europe to visit their graves, and the bodies of approximately 4,400
American soldiers were either never found or never
identified.[
25] Thus, for
many grieving relatives and friends, memorials took the place of
gravestones. Recall that the mother of one of the young men
memorialized by the Bladensburg Cross thought of the memorial as,
“in a way, his grave stone.” App. 1244. Whether in a cemetery or a
city park, a World War I cross remains a memorial to the
fallen.
Similar reasoning applies to other memorials and
monuments honoring important figures in our Nation’s his- tory.
When faith was important to the person whose life is commemorated,
it is natural to include a symbolic reference to faith in the
design of the memorial. For example, many memorials for Dr. Martin
Luther King, Jr., make reference to his faith. Take the Martin
Luther King, Jr. Civil Rights Memorial Park in Seattle, which
contains a sculpture in three segments representing “both the
Christian Trinity and the union of the family.”[
26] In Atlanta, the Ebenezer Baptist Church
sits on the grounds of the Martin Luther King, Jr. National
Historical Park. National Statuary Hall in the Capitol honors a
variety of religious figures: for example, Mother Joseph Pariseau
kneeling in prayer; Po’Pay, a Pueblo religious leader with symbols
of the Pueblo religion; Brigham Young, president of the Church of
Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; and Father Eusebio Kino with a
crucifix around his neck and his hand raised in blessing.[
27] These monuments honor men and
women who have played an important role in the history of our
country, and where religious symbols are included in the monuments,
their presence acknowledges the centrality of faith to those whose
lives are commemorated.
Finally, as World War I monuments have endured
through the years and become a familiar part of the physical and
cultural landscape, requiring their removal would not be viewed by
many as a neutral act. And an alteration like the one entertained
by the Fourth Circuit—amputating the arms of the Cross, see 874
F. 3d, at 202, n. 7—would be seen by many as profoundly
disrespectful. One member of the majority below viewed this
objection as inconsistent with the claim that the Bladensburg Cross
serves secular purposes, see 891 F. 3d, at 121 (Wynn, J.,
concurring in denial of en banc), but this argument misunderstands
the complexity of monuments. A monument may express many purposes
and convey many different messages, both secular and religious. Cf.
Van Orden, 545 U. S., at 690 (plurality opinion)
(describing simultaneous religious and secular meaning of the Ten
Commandments display). Thus
, a campaign to obliterate items
with religious associations may evidence hostility to religion even
if those religious associations are no longer in the forefront.
For example, few would say that the State of
California is attempting to convey a religious message by retaining
the names given to many of the State’s cities by their original
Spanish settlers—San Diego, Los Angeles, Santa Barbara, San Jose,
San Francisco, etc. But it would be something else entirely if the
State undertook to change all those names. Much the same is true
about monuments to soldiers who sacrificed their lives for this
country more than a century ago.
D
While the
Lemon Court ambitiously
attempted to find a grand unified theory of the Establishment
Clause, in later cases, we have taken a more modest approach that
focuses on the particular issue at hand and looks to history for
guidance. Our cases involving prayer before a legislative session
are an example.
In
Marsh v.
Chambers,
463 U.S.
783 (1983), the Court upheld the Nebraska Legislature’s
practice of beginning each session with a prayer by an official
chaplain, and in so holding, the Court conspicuously ignored
Lemon and did not respond to Justice Brennan’s argument in
dissent that the legislature’s practice could not satisfy the
Lemon test.
Id., at 797–801. Instead, the Court found
it highly persuasive that Congress for more than 200 years had
opened its sessions with a prayer and that many state legislatures
had followed suit.
Id., at 787–788. We took a similar
approach more recently in
Town of Greece, 572 U. S., at
577.
We reached these results even though it was
clear, as stressed by the
Marsh dissent, that prayer is by
definition religious. See
Marsh,
supra, at 797–798
(opinion of Brennan, J.). As the Court put it in
Town of
Greece: “
Marsh must not be understood as permitting
a practice that would amount to a constitutional violation if not
for its historical foundation.” 572 U. S., at 576. “The case
teaches instead that the Establishment Clause must be interpreted
‘by reference to historical practices and
understandings’ ” and that the decision of the First
Congress to “provid[e] for the appointment of chaplains only days
after approving language for the First Amendment demonstrates that
the Framers considered legislative prayer a benign acknowledgment
of religion’s role in society.”
Ibid.
The prevalence of this philosophy at the time of
the founding is reflected in other prominent actions taken by the
First Congress. It requested—and President Washington proclaimed—a
national day of prayer, see 1 J. Richardson, Messages and Papers of
the Presidents, 1789–1897, p. 64 (1897) (President Washington’s
Thanksgiving Proclamation), and it reenacted the Northwest
Territory Ordinance, which provided that “[r]eligion, morality, and
knowledge, being necessary to good government and the happiness of
mankind, schools and the means of education shall forever be
encouraged,” 1Stat. 52, n. (
a). President Washington echoed
this sentiment in his Farewell Address, calling religion and
morality “indispensable supports” to “political prosperity.”
Farewell Address (1796), in 35 The Writings of George Washington
229 (J. Fitzpatrick ed. 1940). See also P. Hamburger, Separation of
Church and State 66 (2002). The First Congress looked to these
“supports” when it chose to begin its sessions with a prayer. This
practice was designed to solemnize congressional meetings, unifying
those in attendance as they pursued a common goal of good
governance.
To achieve that purpose, legislative prayer
needed to be inclusive rather than divisive, and that required a
determined effort even in a society that was much more religiously
homogeneous than ours today. Although the United States at the time
was overwhelmingly Christian and Protestant,[
28] there was considerable friction between
Protestant denominations. See M. Noll, America’s God: From Jonathan
Edwards to Abraham Lincoln 228 (2002). Thus, when an Episcopal
clergyman was nominated as chaplain, some Congregationalist Members
of Congress objected due to the “ ‘diversity of religious
sentiments represented in Congress.’ ” D. Davis, Religion and
the Continental Congress 74 (2000). Nevertheless, Samuel Adams, a
staunch Congregationalist, spoke in favor of the motion: “ ‘I
am no bigot. I can hear a prayer from a man of piety and virtue,
who is at the same time a friend of his country.’ ”
Ibid. Others agreed and the chaplain was appointed.
Over time, the members of the clergy invited to
offer prayers at the opening of a session grew more and more
diverse. For example, an 1856 study of Senate and House Chaplains
since 1789 tallied 22 Methodists, 20 Presbyterians, 19
Episcopalians, 13 Baptists, 4 Congregationalists, 2 Roman
Catholics, and 3 that were characterized as
“miscellaneous.”[
29] Four
years later, Rabbi Morris Raphall became the first rabbi to open
Congress.[
30] Since then,
Congress has welcomed guest chaplains from a variety of faiths,
including Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, and Native American
religions.[
31]
In
Town of Greece, which concerned prayer
before a town council meeting, there was disagreement about the
inclusiveness of the town’s practice. Compare 572 U. S., at
585 (opinion of the Court) (“The town made reasonable efforts to
identify all of the congregations located within its borders and
represented that it would welcome a prayer by any minister or
layman who wished to give one”), with
id., at 616 (Kagan,
J., dissenting) (“Greece’s Board did nothing to recognize religious
diversity”). But there was no disagreement that the Establishment
Clause permits a nondiscriminatory practice of prayer at the
beginning of a town council session. See
ibid. (“I believe
that pluralism and inclusion [in legislative prayer] in a town hall
can satisfy the constitutional requirement of neutrality”). Of
course, the specific practice challenged in
Town of Greece
lacked the very direct connection, via the First Congress, to the
thinking of those who were responsible for framing the First
Amendment. But what mattered was that the town’s practice “fi[t]
within the tradition long followed in Congress and the state
legislatures.”
Id., at 577 (opinion of the Court).
The practice begun by the First Congress stands
out as an example of respect and tolerance for differing views, an
honest endeavor to achieve inclusivity and nondiscrimination, and a
recognition of the important role that religion plays in the lives
of many Americans. Where categories of monuments, symbols, and
practices with a longstand- ing history follow in that tradition,
they are likewise constitutional.
III
Applying these principles, we conclude that
the Bladensburg Cross does not violate the Establishment
Clause.
As we have explained, the Bladensburg Cross
carries special significance in commemorating World War I. Due in
large part to the image of the simple wooden crosses that
originally marked the graves of American soldiers killed in the
war, the cross became a symbol of their sacrifice, and the design
of the Bladensburg Cross must be understood in light of that
background. That the cross originated as a Christian symbol and
retains that meaning in many contexts does not change the fact that
the symbol took on an added secular meaning when used in World War
I memorials.
Not only did the Bladensburg Cross begin with
this meaning, but with the passage of time, it has acquired
historical importance. It reminds the people of Bladensburg and
surrounding areas of the deeds of their predecessors and of the
sacrifices they made in a war fought in the name of democracy. As
long as it is retained in its original place and form, it speaks as
well of the community that erected the monument nearly a century
ago and has maintained it ever since. The memorial represents what
the relatives, friends, and neighbors of the fallen soldiers felt
at the time and how they chose to express their sentiments. And the
monument has acquired additional layers of historical meaning in
subsequent years. The Cross now stands among memorials to veterans
of later wars. It has become part of the community.
The monument would not serve that role if its
design had deliberately disrespected area soldiers who perished in
World War I. More than 3,500 Jewish soldiers gave
their lives for the United States in that conflict,[
32] and some have wondered whether
the names of any Jewish soldiers from the area were deliberately
left off the list on the memorial or whether the names of any
Jewish soldiers were included on the Cross against the wishes of
their families. There is no evidence that either thing was done,
and we do know that one of the local American Legion leaders
responsible for the Cross’s construction was a Jewish veteran. See
App. 65, 205, 990.
The AHA’s brief strains to connect the
Bladensburg Cross and even the American Legion with anti-Semitism
and the Ku Klux Klan, see Brief for Respondents 5–7, but the AHA’s
disparaging intimations have no evidentiary support. And when the
events surrounding the erection of the Cross are viewed in
historical context, a very different picture may perhaps be
discerned. The monument was dedicated on July 12, 1925, during a
period when the country was experiencing heightened racial and
religious animosity. Membership in the Ku Klux Klan, which preached
hatred of Blacks, Catholics, and Jews, was at its height.[
33] On August 8, 1925, just two
weeks after the dedication of the Bladensburg Cross and less than
10 miles away, some 30,000 robed Klansmen marched down Pennsylvania
Avenue in the Nation’s Capital. But the Bladensburg Cross memorial
included the names of both Black and White soldiers who had given
their lives in the war; and despite the fact that Catholics and
Baptists at that time were not exactly in the habit of
participating together in ecumenical services, the ceremony
dedicating the Cross began with an invocation by a Catholic priest
and ended with a benediction by a Baptist pastor. App. 1559–1569,
1373. We can never know for certain what was in the minds of those
responsible for the memorial, but in light of what we know about
this ceremony, we can perhaps make out a picture of a community
that, at least for the moment, was united by grief and patriotism
and rose above the divisions of the day.
Finally, it is surely relevant that the monument
commemorates the death of particular individuals. It is natural and
appropriate for those seeking to honor the deceased to invoke the
symbols that signify what death meant for those who are
memorialized. In some circumstances, the exclusion of any such
recognition would make a memorial incomplete. This well explains
why Holocaust memorials invariably include Stars of David or other
symbols of Judaism.[
34] It
explains why a new memorial to Native American veterans in
Washington, D. C., will portray a steel circle to represent
“ ‘the hole in the sky where the creator
lives.’ ”[
35] And this
is why the memorial for soldiers from the Bladensburg community
features the cross—the same symbol that marks the graves of so many
of their comrades near the battlefields where they fell.
IV
The cross is undoubtedly a Christian symbol,
but that fact should not blind us to everything else that the
Bladensburg Cross has come to represent. For some, that monument is
a symbolic resting place for ancestors who never returned home. For
others, it is a place for the community to gather and honor all
veterans and their sacrifices for our Nation. For others still, it
is a historical landmark. For many of these people, destroying or
defacing the Cross that has stood undisturbed for nearly a century
would not be neutral and would not further the ideals of respect
and tolerance embodied in the First Amendment. For all these
reasons, the Cross does not offend the Constitution.
* * *
We reverse the judgment of the Court of
Appeals for the Fourth Circuit and remand the cases for further
proceedings.
It is so ordered.