As the United States marks the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, the celebrations have been plentiful—parades, flyovers, concerts, and public spectacle. Yet amid the pageantry, something essential is missing: a serious national conversation about the ideas and antecedent principles that shaped our Founding—particularly the role of religion and faith.
This omission is not trivial. The American founding was not merely a political event; it was a philosophical and moral undertaking grounded in a particular understanding of human nature, natural rights, and divine order. To understand the Founders, we must grapple with their conception of Divine Providence and the religious framework that informed their worldview.
Modern discussions often label the Founders as “deists,” but this term is frequently misunderstood. As Michael and Janna Novak argue in Washington’s God (2007), the meaning of deism in the 18th century differed significantly from its modern usage. Early deists did not reject Christian doctrine outright; rather, they sought to harmonize reason and revelation. Like the Church Fathers—Augustine and Aquinas among them—and even the ancient philosophers before Christ, they pursued moral truths accessible through both faith and reason.
The Protestant Reformation itself wrestled with this balance. Luther famously warned against the overreach of reason, while Anglican thinkers maintained that moral truths could be discerned through it. The intellectual tradition inherited by the Founders was not one of cold, impersonal rationalism, but of synthesis—a belief that reason and faith were complementary, not antagonistic.
It is therefore historically imprecise to characterize the Founders as adherents of a detached, impersonal deity. One does not invoke “Divine Providence,” as George Washington so often did, when referring to a distant, uninvolved force. One does not pray to an abstraction. The language of the Founding era—public and private alike—reflects a lived belief in a guiding, active God.
Consider Washington’s 1790 letter to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport:
“The power and goodness of the Almighty were strongly manifested in the events of our late glorious revolution… In war He directed the sword, and in peace He has ruled in our councils.”
These are not the words of a man indifferent to faith. They reflect humility, gratitude, and a conviction that human affairs are not wholly self-directed.
As we commemorate this milestone, we would do well to remember that the architects of our republic were not only political thinkers but moral and religious ones. They were imperfect men, certainly, but they were shaped by a worldview that placed limits on human authority and acknowledged a higher source of law and justice.
Today, we see a growing divide. One vision of America remains rooted in the principles of humility, gratitude, and accountability to something greater than ourselves. Another seeks to redefine those foundations, elevating human will above inherited moral order. That tension is not new—but it is increasingly pronounced and ever more dangerous.
Anniversaries are not merely occasions for celebration; they are opportunities for reflection. If we are to preserve what is best about the American experiment, we must first understand it honestly, including the faith that helped give it form.
Let us not forget from whence we came.
Credit is due to Michael and Janna Novak and the Acton Institute for the scholarship that informed this reflection.
