I grew up believing “the separation of church and state” was gospel. I fought anyone who tried to tell me otherwise.
It didn’t help my position that I grew up in Salt Lake City, Utah, where most residents were Mormon and upfront about it. I was an outlier—the one kid in school who didn’t stand up for or recite the Pledge of Allegiance. My mom told me it was within my rights not to. Once at my progressive, hippie-adjacent pre-school, a teacher prayed before lunch. I went straight home and told my mom. That teacher was gone by the end of the week.
I was both a righteous little brat and a snitch. But I had my convictions and I held firm to the belief that if you wanted to hear about religion in school, you attended religious school. And I didn’t do that, either.
Flash forward many decades and I’m sitting in on a discussion led by ICJS Executive Director Heather Miller Rubens, Ph.D., about a multireligious democracy, and it hit me for the first time in my life. It’s not only OK to discuss religion in settings other than places of worship, it’s also vital and paramount.
To engage as equals in civic life, we need to be willing to talk more about religion, which can lead to interreligious fluency. Not doing so firmly places blinders over our eyes and threatens religious and ethical diversity in civic and political life. Protecting religious freedoms is a good thing, but doing so at the risk of a weakened society or damaged moral structures, not so much.
Making something taboo infuses it with negative power and leads to negative connotations. We must be able to talk about this particular subject, which touches all facets of our lives—history, art, literature, politics, health, community engagement, etc.
When I first joined my agency five years ago, I was dismayed to find prayers and blessings taking place during departmental functions or meetings. I immediately reached out to our equity office and asked, “How is this happening at a government agency?”
The equity director told me separation of church and state is a philosophy that is often misinterpreted. However, she stopped short of saying anything helpful that might allow me to interpret it correctly. So, my fight—and my perceived moral high ground—ensued.
While religious, racial, and gender differences have often been viewed as a threat to shared civic life, this Fellowship for Nonprofit and Civic Professionals has helped me understand that avoiding conversations around religious differences inhibits building the very multireligious democracy we are all fighting for.
I also recognize now that I must change my way of thinking and my frame of reference. I was approaching the argument from a solely defensive posture. I didn’t want anyone making me do something I didn’t want to do. But, by refusing to engage in the conversation, I was also blocking potential understanding and collaboration. The notion that we shouldn’t even be mentioning G-d in a public or secular setting instantly turns the conversation off and removes the opportunity for dialogue and learning.
We must fight misinformation and propaganda by telling whole truths and finding the common ground in our humanity. If we develop a shared language and a recognition that it’s OK to talk about Religion with a capital R, we don’t shut down. We develop a path toward increased equality and understanding.
This is a complete and absolute paradigm shift for my personal world view, and I’m glad it happened while I still have time to act on it. I come out of this fellowship with a renewed respect for other belief systems and the ability to be in the room—together.
July 2026
Amanda Krotki is a freelance communications professional and was a 2025-2026 ICJS Nonprofit and Civic Professionals Fellow. Learn more about the ICJS programs for nonprofit and civic professionals here. Opinions expressed in this blog are solely the author’s. ICJS welcomes a diversity of opinions and perspectives