Elvin Lim’s thoughtful and discerning review gives me a chance to clarify and elaborate a central theme of my book: the relationship between politics and religion. I focus largely on this issue because it speaks to the central issues Lim raises: the relationship between ideas and institutions, “founding” and “development,” and a substantive understanding of American constitutionalism against a procedural understanding. Before turning to these issues, let me offer a small qualification. I am surprised that Lim begins with my advocating “constitutional patriotism” and mandatory courses at elite educational institutions. Situated toward the end of the book, my analysis of these issues is tentative and speculative. “Constitutional patriotism,” particularly as it has been developed in Germany, offers a way of thinking about civic identity that rejects ethnic and ascriptive versions of “peoplehood.” Similarly, it may be that there is a convergence between liberal virtues and liberal education. Yet it is worthwhile to ask if the civic traits we desire in our leaders and citizens are fostered without self-consciously tending to civic knowledge—particularly given the increasingly careerist nature of higher education.

The national university was a means of forging a civic culture to complement political institutions. A central element of this was framing ideas about the proper ordering of politics and theology, and the creation of the public and private, which required removing theology from the center of educational institutions to accord with the secular constitutional order being built. So I agree with Lim’s assessment that my argument suggests that “constitutional engineers” must attend to the particulars of place. And yet I am skeptical of prioritizing ideas or institutions in the same way that I am skeptical of thinking in terms of “foundationalists” or “developmentalists.” Here I find comparative constitutionalism and comparative work on political culture (e.g. Ran Hirschl, Robert Putnam, and Sheri Berman) particularly helpful in illuminating the interplay between ideas and institutions in political development.

Even so, I do understand America as committed to substantive principles, such as the separation between politics and religion, which (hopefully) limit constitutional change. Contrary to Bruce Ackerman, the return of religious establishments and the favoring of particular sects would be at odds with American constitutionalism. However, we should not confuse substantive commitments with institutional stasis. An ends oriented constitutionalism may well require institutional reform, as I argue was necessary with regard to the separation of the (sectarian) college from the (secular) state. We may need to alter our political institutions—even consider the sort of sweeping changes called for by Sandy Levinson (Framed: America’s 51 Constitutions and the Crisis of Governance, 2012) and other critics of so-called “vetocracy”—to achieve constitutional ends.

Yet achieving constitutional ends also requires citizens to share constitutional understandings—such as liberal tolerance—and carry them forward in their mental habits. Yes, as Lim notes, we contest these ideas. But as William Galston argues, we do so “within a framework of civic unity,” and it is this framework that allows “a plurality of religions … to coexist” (Liberal Pluralism: The Implications of Value Pluralism for Political Theory and Practice, 2002, p. 25). We take this accommodation for granted but as religious intolerance to same-sex marriage in the civic space remind us, maintaining this understanding is an ongoing project that depends on the mindset of public leaders and citizens. We cannot presume that political institutions set in motion two centuries ago will simply sustain themselves.