Prayer and politics in Congress
Francine Kiefer, Christian Science Monitor, September 17, 2016
Sen. Christopher Coons doesnât get much sleep. Unlike most senators, the lawmaker from Delaware commutes to the capital via Amtrak, often returning home late at night to his wife, three kids, and two dogs.
On Wednesdays, though, the Democrat gets up extra early, at 5:30 a.m., so he can catch the train from Wilmington to Washington, arriving about 8:20. If he walks straight to the Capitol from the station, he can make the second half of the Senate prayer breakfast, a bipartisan hour of personal reflection and faith-sharing among senators.
âItâs the best hour of the week,â says Senator Coons, who is working on a book about the faith journeys of senators, âProfiles in Spirit,â with Elizabeth McCloskey of the John C. Danforth Center on Religion and Politics in St. Louis.
After a simple buffet of eggs, bacon, fruit, and other offerings, anywhere from 15 to 30 senators from both parties break spiritual bread at this nondenominational feast. They sing a hymn, share cares and concerns, pray for each other, and hear an inspirational talk from a current or former senator, often about a deeply personal experience. The speakers alternate weekly by party.
On those days when Coons is tempted to ignore the alarm clock, wondering why he should make the effort to listen to a senator who is his political antithesis, he reminds himself âhow energizing and insightful those 30 minutes can be,â no matter the ideology of the speaker. Attending the breakfast is his one big piece of advice to incoming senators.
The prayer breakfast is one of the few venues on the Hill where members of both parties mix socially. In a typical week, about a quarter of the Senate shows up, including members of leadership from both parties, according to Coons. Participants drop politics at the door. They observe strict confidentiality. No staff. No journalists. Itâs just the senators and the chamberâs chaplain, who leads the singing.
The Senate breakfast and its companion in the House are invisible to the public. Yet that is exactly what makes them so beneficial, say attendees. The confidentiality of the breakfasts allows lawmakers to get to know each other as human beings. They hear about each otherâs personal struggles and joys, about concern for family members, friends, and staff. That builds trust and friendship. It can even lead to bipartisan legislation. One participant says that itâs the only time when a senator is speaking and others are really listening.
The meetings have their share of critics, who see them as too clubby, too secretive, and too much religious talk under the rotunda. But in a world where religion can divide people and nations, faith is helping to bridge the political chasm in Congress. While no one thinks the breakfasts will fundamentally change the tenor of one of the most divisive periods in Washington history, they are acting as a moderating influence--and helping to promote a sense of civility and understanding on the Hill.
As Coons puts it, âIf you hold hands with someone in prayer in the morning, itâs tough for [that] someone to throw a punch at you in the afternoon.â
Prayer has always been a presence on Capitol Hill. In the 19th century, religious services were actually held in the House chamber because it was the biggest space in a town still under construction and lacking public buildings.
âThe House was used for church services, but it wasnât a church,â says Donald Ritchie, former Senate historian. âIt was used for funerals, but it wasnât a funeral parlor. It was a space that was available.â
Those practices ended in the 1840s, when enough churches had been built to accommodate lawmakers and their families. What still survives from the First Congress of 1789 to this day--and which many secularists object to--are two chaplains, one for the House and one for the Senate, underwritten by US taxpayers. The chaplains, or a guest, offer a prayer at the opening of each day that Congress is in session, and they minister to the members, their staffs, and their families.
When he was the Senate historian, Mr. Ritchie says he often had to answer queries from outraged citizens and visitors who viewed the chaplaincy and opening prayers as a violation of the separation of church and state. But Article 1 of the Constitution allows the chambers to âchuseâ their officers, and the chaplains have always been officers, the historian says. As the current Senate chaplain, Barry Black, notes on his web page, the chamber honors the separation of church and state, âbut not the separation of God and State.â
The Supreme Court agrees. In 1983, it held that a chaplaincy and opening prayers in legislatures do not violate the Constitution (Marsh v. Chambers). In 2014, it upheld opening prayers at municipal meetings, so long as the practice is not discriminatory.
The Senate and House prayer meetings are rooted in the days of Republican President Dwight Eisenhower and the first National Prayer Breakfast in 1953. The two congressional prayer groups host that annual breakfast, which is organized by the Fellowship Foundation, a Christian group. The big attraction is the main speaker, the US president, along with a guest speaker.
The forum offers a rare opportunity for Congress, the president, other American leaders, and emissaries from around the world to put politics aside and address the role of faith in public life.
It doesnât always succeed at that. In 2013, for instance, guest speaker Benjamin Carson, at the time a little-known neurosurgeon, created a stir by criticizing President Obamaâs health-care program and progressive tax policies as the president sat just two seats away. Many believe the breakfast launched Mr. Carsonâs presidential bid last year.
The House and Senate prayer breakfasts, Bible study groups, and other faith-related meetings on the Hill are far more intimate affairs. But theyâve gained in importance--particularly in the Senate--as socializing across parties has declined, according to Ritchie. With only 100 members, the Senate is a very personal institution, where relationships are important. âAnything that enables them to understand each other better as people is an asset,â he says. âThe prayer breakfast has become a greater asset as other events and opportunities have really fallen away.â
To be sure, lawmakers mix now at the Senate and House gyms, at breakfasts for military veterans, and at the annual congressional womenâs softball game--to name a few neutral gatherings. But the days of golfing together and attending the recitals of each otherâs children have vanished.
Lawmakers donât live in Washington anymore. That would look bad--making them seem too cozy with the government (even though they are the government). And it would separate them too much from their constituents. Neither do they have much time to socialize during their short workweek in Washington.
âWeâre all strangers here. None of us belongs here or lives here,â says Coons, a Presbyterian who holds a masterâs degree in ethics from Yale Divinity School and who sometimes guest-preaches on Sundays at various churches in Delaware. The prayer breakfast, he says, âhelps humanize this place.â
Both the House and Senate breakfasts strive to include speakers from diverse faiths, and Coons says the Senate breakfast reflects the âwide range of beliefs and backgroundsâ of the chamber: liberal Democrats, conservative Republicans, Jews, Roman Catholics, Mormons, and mainline and evangelical Protestants.
People attend for a variety of reasons. The meetings offer a spiritual respite from an otherwise hectic life. They help lawmakers cope with demoralizing gridlock. They reveal something about their colleagues that they otherwise might never see. Then thereâs the literal breaking of bread--uninterrupted visiting time over pastries and coffee.
âYouâre off the grid,â says Sen. John Boozman (R) of Arkansas, who co-chairs the Senate breakfast along with Sen. Tim Kaine (D) of Virginia, a devout Catholic who is now Hillary Clintonâs running mate. Aside from the faith part of the hour, itâs âalmost like a coffee club,â says Senator Boozman, who is a Southern Baptist. âOnce a week, youâre sitting around with people who have become your friends.â
Indeed, this soft-spoken former football player for the Arkansas Razorbacks (his framed jersey hangs in his office) says he would never have really gotten to know his harmonica-playing co-chair were it not for the breakfast.
Yet that is one reason some lawmakers are critical of the meetings--they seem too much like a clannish club. âPeople think, oh itâs kind of secret, itâs kind of a cabal,â says Senator Kaine. âItâs only secretive because you want people to be free to be really candid about who they are.â
