Origins of the National Day of Prayer in the United States

Since the nation’s founding, politicians have been battling for God’s honor, fanning the flames of Christian nationalism and god-as-national-mascot.

“If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, pray, seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land .” —2 Chronicles 7:14

There is an interesting history behind the official observance of the U.S. National Day of Prayer.
In the years leading up to, during and after the U.S. war of independence, numerous political bodies called for such an observance — including an official act approved by the 1775 Continental Congress, calling for a “Day of Public Humiliation, Fasting and Prayer” for “beseeching [God] to forgive our iniquities.”

After those early years, such observances were sporadic until just prior to and during the U.S. civil war. In 1863 President Lincoln proclaimed a “National Day of Humiliation, Fasting and Prayer.”

The tradition was largely ignored again until 1918, during World War I, when President Wilson called for a “Day of Public Humiliation, Prayer and Fasting.”

Then came the next official presidential announcement, by Harry Truman, in August of 1945, with the news of Japan’s intention to surrender during World War II.

Only this time, there was a subtle shift. The day no longer referenced “public humiliation” or humility in general. Instead, President Truman wrote: “Our global victory . . . has come with the help of God. . . . Let us . . . dedicate ourselves to follow in His Ways.”

In 1952 the observance of a national day of prayer became official, when President Truman signed Congressional legislation giving legal status to the observance. In 1988, President Reagan signed legislation specifying that the day be observed annually on the first Thursday of May.

Not surprisingly, this legislation came about amid the Cold War, as a swipe at the Soviet Union’s “godless Communism.”

Two years later, the U.S. Congress added “under God” to the Pledge of Allegiance; and then, in 1956, made “In God We Trust” the new national motto, adding that phrase on U.S. currency.

But the nature of this god was becoming ever more elastic. As when President Eisenhower claimed, “our government has no sense unless it is founded in a deeply felt religious faith and I don’t care what it is.”

The battle for God’s honor — and for Christian Nationalism, and god-as-national-mascot — was on. And it soon escalated.

In his 2003 National Day of Prayer proclamation, President George W. Bush focused on divine guidance in the “fight against terrorism” and urged citizens to “ask the Almighty to protect all those who battle for freedom throughout the world and our brave men and women in uniform. . . .”

By now, national penitence was a thing of the past. In its stead, “May God bless America” had become the repeated benediction of most ranking political leaders and the centerpiece of National Day of Prayer piety.

As biblical scholar and activist Ched Myers notes in “Mixed Blessing: A Biblical Inquiry into a ‘Patriotic’ Cant”: “Of the 41 appearances [in the New Testament] of the Greek verb eulogeoo (literally ‘speaking a good word’), only twice do we find it in the imperative mood. In neither case does it involve God. It does, however, involve us. In Jesus’s famous sermon he invites his disciples to “Bless those who curse you’ (Matthew 5:44 & Luke 6:28). These instructions are later echoed by the apostle Paul: ‘Bless those who persecute you, bless and do not curse (Romans 12:14).’”

Issuing this year’s National Day of Prayer proclamation, President Biden emphasized prayers of gratitude for “blessings bestowed” and a petition for “protection.”

We would do well to dwell on this insightful commentary by Dr. Eddie Glaude, professor of African American Studies at Princeton University.

“America is not unique in its sins as a country. We’re not unique in our evils . . . . Where we may be singular is in our refusal to acknowledge them. And the legends and myths we tell about our inherent goodness, to hide and cover and conceal, so that we can maintain a kind of willful ignorance that protects our innocence.”

And, more recently, Glaude underscored a fundamental stipulation of biblical faith, that the capacity to repent is a sign of strength rather than weakness: “Admitting that America is a racist country isn’t a death sentence; actually, it is an admission/acceptance that may very well give the nation new life.”
Telling the truth about our nation’s past is essential to repairing the present. As John’s Gospel records Jesus, “You shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

Contextually, though, we must acknowledge that this text is carved in the marble wall of the Central Intelligence Agency’s main lobby.

Contention over the truth was underway long before Pontius Pilate asked Jesus, “What is the truth?”
Learning the truth can be painful. As has been said, “you shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free; but first it will make you miserable.” The truth can be disorienting. But unlearning always precedes relearning. A lot of historical deconstruction — and, for people of faith, theological deconstruction — is needed before reconstruction can begin.

Learning the truth about our history can be humiliating, especially for those of us immersed in the propaganda of American exceptionalism.

But if the result of such discovery is shame, we’ve missed the point, for shame is simply a new form of self-centeredness.

Any rightful penitence leads to courageous decisions, however small or large, that unleash bold forms of resistance to the ideology of Christian/white nationalism; along with vigorous determination in the work of reparation, for repair is the prerequisite of reconciliation.

Anticipated joy in the promise of reconciliation is what keeps us going in these hard times.

This story was produced by Fellowship Magazine


Since 1918, the Fellowship of Reconciliation has published the award-winning print magazine Fellowship. It is also now online, offering original grassroots analysis, movement research, first-person commentary, poetry and more to help people of faith and conscience build a nonviolent, compassionate world.

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