Saturday July 4th is the Semiquincentennial: our nation’s 250th birthday. As someone old enough to remember our Bicentennial celebrations, I confess to feeling torn regarding this day. On the one hand, 250 years certainly is an anniversary worthy of celebration! But on the other, this anniversary feels far more fraught and politicized than was the case fifty years ago. Still, it is surely appropriate to see this anniversary as a call to reflection. On this our 250th birthday, just who are we as a nation? Who do we claim to be? Who do we aspire to become?
One way to answer these questions is to look to our official language concerning our identity. Our national motto is “In God We Trust:” approved by the Legislature and signed into law by President Dwight D. Eisenhower on July 30, 1956. That same law stipulated that this motto, which had already been placed on some coins since 1864, be printed on all currency issued after that date.

But another motto, the Latin phrase E Pluribus Unum, was adopted by an Act of Congress in 1782 for the Great Seal of the United States, and has appeared on our money since 1795. While the English motto “In God We Trust” at least seems fairly straightforward, this one needs translating–as well as some historical unpacking.
“E [an abbreviation for ex] pluribus unum” means “out of many, one.” It was suggested as a motto by Pierre Eugene du Simitierre, one of the designers working on the seal. Apparently, du Simitierre got the motto from the title page of The Gentleman’s Magazine, a popular journal of the day that (rather like today’s Reader’s Digest) took its content from a number of places (so, “out of many, one”). Possibly, the editors of The Gentleman’s Magazine in turn found the phrase in “Moretum,” that is, “The Salad”: an extended poetic recipe (attributed to Virgil) for a cheese and garlic spread! The line in question describes grinding together many ingredients:
Till by degrees they one by one do lose
Their proper powers, and out of many comes
A single colour [color est e pluribus unus]
A more dignified proposal is that the motto was adapted from Cicero’s De Officiis (“Concerning Duties”) 1.17.56, regarding friendship:
When each person loves the other as much as himself, it makes one out of many [unus fiat ex pluribus], as Pythagoras wishes things to be in friendship.
Whatever its original source, we can see why du Simitierre proposed this motto, and why the Founders liked it. It describes the United States of America as many states unified into a single nation. But while E Pluribus Unum goes back to a time not long after the American Revolution, graces our currency, and is emblazoned on our Great Seal, it is not our national motto: that, as of 1956 (the year I was born), is “In God We Trust.”
“In God We Trust” affirms a religious identity, or at least, a religious aspiration: we are, or strive to be, a nation “under God.” However this phrase too, familiar from the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag, is an artifact of the Cold War: added in 1954 (again, by President Eisenhower) to Francis Bellamy’s 1892 pledge. Both the adoption of “In God We Trust” and the addition of “under God” to the pledge in the mid-Fifties were a reaction against the godless Communism of the Soviet Union. This way of speaking about our identity, then, does not actually go back to our founding 250 years ago. It is in truth no older than I am.
Friends, can we embrace both mottoes? To put this another way: does acknowledging our differences–our unity in diversity–threaten our identity as a people who trust in God? Some may think that it does: that real Americans (or real Christians) must look like me, or at least, think and act like me. A godly leader, by this view, will clearly mark and defend the borders between those inside and those outside, forcibly imposing right thought and action. But the Old Testament reading for this Sunday, Zechariah 9:9-12, suggests another way to think about power, and about unity.
Both Matthew and John quote Zechariah 9:9 in their accounts of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem (Matt 21:5 and John 12:15):
Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion.
Sing aloud, Daughter Jerusalem.
Look, your king will come to you.
He is righteous and victorious.
He is humble and riding on an ass,
on a colt, the offspring of a donkey.
![]()
Applying to this passage a wooden literalism, Matthew describes Jesus entering Jerusalem mounted on both an ass and her colt, like a circus act (Matt 21:6-7)! But this was no mistake on Matthew’s part: the most Jewish of the Evangelists certainly knew how Hebrew poetry works. Rather, this bizarre image was intended to ram the point home, making absolutely certain that the reader could not miss the connection between the prophecy and its fulfillment: Jesus is the humble king this passage describes!
In the Hebrew of Zech 9:9, the king is described as tsaddiq wenosha’ ; CEB reads “righteous and victorious.” The first term does mean “righteous,” but the second, nosha’, is a passive participle, meaning literally “one who is saved.” The Greek Septuagint renders this as sozon, an active participle (“saving”); the CEB “victorious” follows the Greek rather than the Hebrew. Carol and Eric Meyers, however, urge us to stay with the plain sense of the Hebrew: “Yahweh is victorious over the enemies, with the result that the king is ‘saved,’ thereby enabled to assume power” (Carol and Eric Meyers, Zechariah 9-14; AB 25c [Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1993], 127). In short, Zechariah 9:9-10 presents a transformed notion of kingship, grounded not in the king’s own power or pomp but in God’s salvation: in God he trusts! Remember Zechariah’s words to the governor Zerubbabel, earlier in this book:
This is the LORD’s word to Zerubbabel:
Neither by power, nor by strength,
but by my spirit, says the LORD of heavenly forces (Zech 4:6).
As this unit unfolds, the prophet continues to draw distinctions between this promised King and other, previous kings. The humble mount in Zech 9:9 derives from a long tradition of royal processions (Meyers and Meyers 1993, 129): by riding an ass rather than a war horse or chariot, the king showed humility, and declared that he came in peace. But this time, the prophet declares, this will be more than theater! This king truly is humble, and not only comes in peace, but comes to bring peace: a promise our war-torn world desperately needs to hear!
He will cut off the chariot from Ephraim
and the warhorse from Jerusalem.
The bow used in battle will be cut off;
he will speak peace to the nations.
His rule will stretch from sea to sea,
and from the river to the ends of the earth (Zech 9:10).
The mention of Ephraim (the largest of the northern tribes, often used to represent the entire northern kingdom of Israel, for example, see Isa 7:2; Jer 7:15; Ezek 37:19; Hos 5:3) shows that the renewed kingdom this king builds will include those formerly excluded: the “lost tribes” from the northern kingdom destroyed and dispersed by the Assyrians long before. The kingdom established by this king will reunite those long divided–e pluribus unum!
Unfortunately, the lectionary reading is two verses too long! Although in its final form, Zechariah 9 is a unit, the differing histories of its parts call for attention. Zechariah 9:9-10 belongs with the first eight verses of the chapter–a series of oracles against the nations of Syria-Palestine, culminating in the arrival of God’s appointed king. Zechariah 9:11-12 belong with the following unit (Zech 9:11-17).

In sharp contrast to the peaceful vision of Zech 9:9-10, but in continuity with older visions of divine kingship (see Nah 1:2-11; Hab 3:1-19; Zeph 1:2-18), these verses describe the LORD as a blood-soaked warrior. The exiles are gathered, not so that God can guard them in peace (Zech 9:8), but so that God can muster them as an army. The expression “the blood of the covenant” appears only in Zechariah 9:11 and Exodus 24:8, where Moses sprinkles the people with the blood of their offering at Sinai, sealing their promise to obey God’s torah. Here as there, God has delivered Israel from bondage and oppression, but will now lead them into times of trial and conflict. Including Zech 9:11-12 in our reading will likely prompt us to misread, or even ignore, the transformed vision of kingship in Zech 9:9-10–which would be a tragic shame.

Staying with that transformed image of what power means leads us in a very different direction. Lutheran pastor and emergent church leader Nadia Bolz-Weber, preaching after the slaughter of 49 LGBTQ people in Orlando in 2016, shows us where that message can take us:
I mean, I may want a vigilante saviour. But what I need is a saviour who brings a swift, terrible mercy. What I want is a dividing saviour – who will draw the same lines I would draw…but what I need is a saviour who makes us one, a saviour, who lifted up, draws all people to himself. Not just the worthy. Not just the lovely, the likely and the lucky. All people. I need a saviour who commands me to love my enemies and pray for those who persecute me – pray for those whose hate blinds them to their own goodness and the worth and dignity of others. And I need a saviour this merciful because it is I who needs this much mercy.
This, in the end, is the reason that for those who believe, “In God We Trust” belongs inextricably with E Pluribus Unum. Those who trust in God know that making one out of many is God’s design and delight:
This is what God planned for the climax of all times: to bring all things together in Christ, the things in heaven along with the things on earth (Ephesians 1:10).
May we, in our republic’s 250th year, foreswear the politics of hatred, exclusion and division, and embrace Zechariah’s vision of unity and peace.












I was recently reminded of Christian novelist and essayist Frederick Buechner’s whimsical take on Goliath, from his book 
![Title: Tapestry of David slaying Goliath [Click for larger image view]](https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/cdri/jpeg/nat-cathedral-goliath.jpg)




















![Title: Star of Bethlehem with Pomegranate Trees [Click for larger image view]](https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/cdri/jpeg/ACT0012.jpg)



