Liberty for 1985
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Should Churches Shelter Illegal - 5 t _..,... ,. z ,4 ,,•;.i 1 - ... ti,H,,,,te: f ,,tt ti t • 4-, : . .!• 4 f il :e: 11 -,,c,*, 2 fl:t=" 4 4;4', s A 'i "fi l..i ffeir 11 i, 4# 1, t' ! 1; t:''' i51 1:a I ti e, Ic*,f4f1 It ti , r ii : 0 ,, i r t if I , . , 4 'A. , it it t i ii I 1 ti f 01 .!°.14 ,lf f 5. ' ' r''1,1-f,4,e. " e rt ' .''' if, • 1 . el: .4 f °, i r'' 1#' i : ,i I ; t''',i,'' ,-.. :.,....., -;` ,. , • . , • ,41 f e1 • 4f ' t t k ...tt. :', 4 LIBERTY May/June, 1985 The Year We Hid Our RELIGIOX BY PAT ARNOW o my sister and me, transferring to a Virginia high school spelled adventure. We were early teens who had never strayed far from Chicago. In our North Side melting-pot neighborhood we had walked to school or taken city buses on cold days. On our way to Prince George County High School we rode the school bus through a countryside of rolling hills. Classmates and teachers seemed friendlier and more helpful than their Chicago counterparts—though their Southern accents sometimes needed an interpreter. With the innocence of youth we didn't see ourselves as the "foreigners." There was a darker side to our new world, however—one that has shaped my appreciation for separation of church and state—especially in the classroom. Every morning the principal, after reading announcements over the loudspeaker, said a prayer while students dutifully bowed their heads over their desks. The prayer wasn't long. I don't remember the themes. I do remember how the daily ordeal ended. The principal always said, "In the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen." I didn't know what to do. As a Jew, I prayed straight to God, not in anyone else's name. To accept the prayer as mine was more of a sin, according to what I had been taught, than not praying at all. My sister and I talked it over. She was as upset about the prayers as I was. But we didn't see a solution. We would have jumped in front of our school bus sooner than ask to be excused. We wouldn't have considered asking that the final phrase be changed to encompass a God that was ours as well as theirs. We could do nothing. We had gone from a public school in Chicago, where more than half the students were Jewish and no religion was the least bit odd, to a school where we were the only non-Christians. We agreed to keep our religion to ourselves. During that year neither of us told a single person that we were Jewish. I don't think we were cowardly. We were simply children. "Jesus Christ our Lord" coming over the loudspeaker every morning didn't leave room for any other belief being normal. It built a wall, with my sister and me standing on the outside. The problem, ultimately, with prayer in public schools is that it excludes some of us. When an authority figure recites prayers the minority become freaks. Parents may argue that their freedom to practice their religion is thus enhanced. But prayer can't be put in the school without restraining the religious freedom of others. Freedom of religion is most important when we find ourselves in the minority, not when we are a confident majority. I didn't know, in 1962, that those daily prayers were part of a national controversy. I thought of school prayer as my personal problem, an unchangeable institution I could do nothing about. By the time the Supreme Court ruled against the practice, my sister and I were back in prayerless Chicago. But I remember hearing about the decision and feeling relieved. No other children would be subjected to the em- barrassment and humiliation that my sister and I had endured. Pat Arnow is a free-lance writer living in Johnson City, Tennessee. LIBERTY IS PUBLISHED BIMONTHLY AND COPYRIGHTED 0 1985 BY THE REVIEW AND HERALD PUBLISHING ASSN., 55 WEST OAK RIDGE DRIVE, HAGERSTOWN, MARYLAND 21740. SUBSCRIPTION PRICE: US56.25 PER YEAR. SINGLE COPY: USS1.25. PRICE MAY VARY WHERE NATIONAL CURRENCIES ARE DIFFERENT. VOL. 80. NO. 3. MAY-JUNE, 1985. POSTMASTER: ADDRESS CORRECTION REQUESTED. COVER PHOTOGRAPH BY TOM RADCLIFFE, INSIDE PHOTOGRAPH BY STEPHEN WEBER 3 We Were The Different BY DENNIS A. BARI OW LIBERTY May/June, 1985 ith all the talk of putting God back into our schools, I often think of my own experience 25 years ago in a Glendale, elementary school. My first understanding of how dif- ferently Americans view their obligations to God came in my classroom. Today, as a parent and an attorney, I ponder whether the law should encourage highlighting religious peculiarities in a public school. The first crisis—and it was that for the student involved—came during the daily flag salute. One boy did not participate. Sometimes he would stand, hands at his side; or he would sit, silently, as we pledged allegiance to the flag and our country. We learned he was a Jehovah's Witness, who believed saluting the flag is idolatry. By a decision of the Supreme Court, he could refuse to com- promise his conscience by joining us in this exercise. We didn't think of his con- science, however; we thought of his difference. He was not like us. After flag salute we were told to pray silently. We would obediently bow our heads—and often peek, if only to see whether anyone else was peeking. I was raised in a devout Mormon family, and we prayed often, both together and individually. I also prayed on my own in school, silently, when faced with problems. But the organized silent prayer conducted by the teacher made me uncomfortable. That belonged in church. I found it especially disconcerting when I would pray, only to have my conversation with God interrupted by the teacher's "Time's up!" This left me unfulfilled. But neither the flag salute nor the silent prayer made me feel different. The released-time religious instruction did. This opportunity is authorized even now by California law (California Education Code, No. 46014), which provides that students may be excused from the school day four hours each month to participate in religious instruction off the school grounds. I sat in the classroom as the leaders of various religious groups came to lead their young charges to the appointed sites for religious training. The Protestants, Catholics, Jews, and Christian Scientists all filed out. The largest group was always the Protestants. As a Mormon, I still didn't identify with the Protestants, although I held many similar beliefs; and anyway, we had our own weekly meetings after school. When they had left, I and a few others remained. Now we were the different ones. I have no quarrel with the concept of released time. It's a minor enough governmental accommodation of religion to allow churches time during the week to instill religious and moral values into their young people away from the school. What does concern me, however, is what those of us who remained were required to endure. It was obvious that the teachers designated to supervise us wanted everyone involved in the program, leaving them with free time. To encourage our participation, we who remained were not allowed activities which might have been enjoyable or even beneficial. On the contrary, we were required to spend the time hand-copying directly from textbooks. When the other students returned, the pages we had so painstakingly copied were openly discarded so that we could see how useless our activity had been. By this action the school encouraged impressionable children to participate in a religious activity. Some would contend that released-time religious instruction would have been good for me and the others who didn't participate. That very well may be true, but it is a decision that must be left to the child and his parents. A state institution cannot be allowed to make that decision for us. My experience in Glendale has reinforced my conviction that religious training has no place in a public school. To argue that elementary school students can choose not to participate is a fallacy. There is always pressure—from teachers, or more important, from other students—to participate in an activity that is contrary to, or at least not in keeping with, the personal beliefs of the student's family. Our society should not purposely put young children in the position of choosing in the name of religion between peer acceptance and family beliefs. Dennis A. Barlow is an attorney living in Marysville, California. PHOTOGRAPH BY STEPHEN WEBER 5 LIBERTY R F This refugee family from El Salvador had to flee because they aided anti- government forces fighting oppression. A Quaker meeting house in Cincinnati, Ohio is providing sanctuary for them. 6 MaylJune, 1985 Sheltering Illegal ALIENS What the churches and the government have to say about the concept of sanctuary. Bl CLIFFORD GOLDSTEIN II undreds of pastors, priests, and rabbis could soon be holding services from behind bars because they are harboring illegal aliens. Those who harbor the aliens claim to be saving political refu- gees from persecution, even death. Whatever the merits of their claim, church and state are heading for a nasty clash that could pit Bibles against law- books. In January, after a ten-month inves- tigation by the government, 16 people in Arizona—preachers, priests, nuns, and layworkers—were arrested on 71 counts of conspiracy to smuggle illegal aliens into the United States.