I don’t pray to Jesus. I never have. I was raised in a tradition that predates Christianity by a millennium, and when I pray — which I do, regularly, seriously — I do it in Hebrew, facing Jerusalem, according to a liturgy my ancestors carried through exile and persecution for thousands of years.

And I have absolutely zero problem with Secretary of War Pete Hegseth closing a Pentagon press briefing by asking the American people to pray “on bended knee, with your family, in your schools, in your churches, in the name of Jesus Christ” for the safety of our troops.

Not an iota of irritation. Not a teaspoon of tumult.

The outrage is a performance — and a particularly threadbare one, conjured in response to perhaps the most banal, good-faith, unambiguously decent request a public official has made in recent memory.

When Hegseth stood at that podium and invoked Christ’s name on behalf of men and women in harm’s way, he was drawing on something Americans have done since before there was an America. George Washington is remembered kneeling in the snow at Valley Forge. FDR led the entire nation in prayer on D-Day, asking God for strength and providence as young Americans stormed the beaches at Normandy. Patton once called his chaplain and asked, point blank, for a prayer for good weather. This is the tradition Hegseth reached for — long, deep, distinctly American — the instinct of a nation that has always understood that some moments call for more than a press release.

The critics sputtering this week would have you believe that a cabinet secretary expressing his Christian faith in public is somehow a threat. To whom, exactly — to me? I am one of the people they’d presumably be defending. I am a Jew in a country that is, by any honest accounting, a majority-Christian nation with a majority-Christian culture and a majority-Christian history. I have known this every day of my life. It has never made me feel like a second-class citizen, because that is not what minority rights actually mean.

Minority rights mean the government cannot compel me to convert. They mean I cannot be prosecuted for my religion, fired from a federal job because I observe Shabbat, or told to leave the country because I don’t accept the Nicene Creed. They mean I have the full protection of the law and the full dignity of citizenship regardless of my faith. That is the promise of America, and it is a magnificent one — imperfectly but genuinely kept.

What it does not mean is that we all must pretend America has no religious character. It does not mean a Christian official must sand his faith down to a fine, inoffensive powder before speaking in public. It does not mean that mentioning Jesus at a press conference is an act of aggression against anyone.

The conflation of those two things — genuine religious persecution versus a majoritarian culture expressing itself — is doing serious damage to our civic life. Every time a Christian politician prays in public, a certain class of commentator treats it as a prelude to theocracy. This is not only dishonest. It is, as a Jew, a little insulting. It flattens my actual history — a history of pogroms and inquisitions and gas chambers — and asks me to treat a Pentagon official’s invocation of Christ as a comparable offense. I decline.

There is something else worth saying here. Every Saturday morning, in synagogues across America — certainly in mine — we recite a prayer for the safety of the United States Armed Forces. We do this whether American troops are in active combat or not. We do this because we understand, in the marrow of our tradition, that the soldiers who stand between a free society and its enemies deserve our gratitude and our supplication before God. Pete Hegseth was asking the American people to do what Jews have been doing in shul every week for generations. I recognize the impulse. I share it.

And this: if the worst my government is guilty of is asking faithful Americans to bend their knee in prayer and petition God for the safety of our troops, I will recommit myself to that government every day, and twice on Saturday. More Americans engaging in prayer can only be a positive movement for the nation.

The faith Hegseth expressed — one that asks its adherents to appeal to God on behalf of soldiers who may not come home — is not my enemy. It never has been.

America is a country where Christians pray, where Christian faith shapes public life, where references to Jesus are woven into the culture from the Pledge to the presidency. That is not a grievance. It is simply what a majority-Christian democracy looks like. A proud, observant Jew — or a Muslim, or a Buddhist, or an atheist — can accept that reality without feeling diminished by it. In fact, intellectual honesty requires it.

The capacity to hold both things at once — to cherish the legal protections that shield the minority while accepting the cultural reality of the majority — is one of the more demanding things American pluralism asks of us. It is also non-negotiable. It is the deal.

Hegseth asked people to pray for our troops. I hope they do. I will be saying my own prayers for those soldiers — in my own tradition, as I do each day.

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Daniella Greenbaum Davis is an Emmy-award winning producer and communications strategist. Follow her on X: @DGreenbaum

The views expressed in this piece are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The Daily Wire.

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I’m Jewish. I Have No Problem With Hegseth’s Prayer.