CONTENTS

Foreword: The Reconciliation of Government and Religion, Harold J. Berman . . . . . vii
Preface, Jeffery E. Sells . . . . . xi
Introduction, Michael D. Zimmerman . . . . . xxii

Part I
Historical and Philosophical Underpinnings

1. "Almighty God Hath Created the Mind Free": Colonial Antecedents of the First Amendment, Judith S. H. Atherton . . . . . 3

2. The First Amendment to the Constitution: A Brief Historical Survey, Jeffery E. Sells . . . . . 29

3. "The Things That Are Caesar's": Religion and Society, Peter C. Appleby . . . . . 37

4. The Persistent Pattern of Establishment in Mormon Land, Jan Shipps . . . . . 61

5. Toleration of Religious Sentiment: Helping It Work from the Governor's Chair, Calvin L. Rampton . . . . . 77

6. The LDS Church and Utah Politics: Five Stories and Some Observations, Rod Decker . . . . . 97

7. Exporting Utah's Theocracy Since 1975: Mormon Organizational Behavior and America's Culture Wars, D. Michael Quinn . . . . . 129

Part II
The Social Consequences of Religious Dominance

8. The Trouble with Dominant Religions, Tom Goldsmith . . . . . 171

9. Freedom and Theocracy: The Anglican Tradition of Involvement, Jeffery E. Sells . . . . . 185

10. The Ethics of Marginalization: The Utah Example, John J. Flynn . . . . . 203

11. Ethics, Academic Freedom, and Education in the Theocratic State of Utah, L. Jackson Newell . . . . . 231

12. "Why Did the Watchdogs Never Bark?" Edwin B. Firmage . . . . . 245

13. "The Only Game in Town": An ACLU Perspective, Stephen C. Clark . . . . . 267

14. The Other Voice in Utah: The Role of The Salt Lake Tribune, John W. Gallivan Sr. . . . . . 293

15. Singing as We Go: Black and Baptist in Utah, France A. Davis . . . . . 307

16. Living a Jewish Life in Utah Society, Frederick L. Wenger . . . . . 319

17. A Muslim Family in Utah, Maqbool Ahmed . . . . . 325

Epilogue: What Would Dostoevsky Have to Say? Craddock Matthew Gilmour . . . . . 341

Tribute to Mr. Gilmour, Jack Potter . . . . . 345

About the Contributors . . . . . 351

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FOREWORD
The Reconciliation of Government and Religion
Harold J. Berman

In talking about church and state, we stress their strict separation. We condemn historical examples of state control of the church as "Caesaropapism" and of church control of the state as "theocracy." The framers of our federal Constitution forbade not only the creation of a state church by a political ruler—such as had existed in Tudor and early Stuart England in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries—but also the creation of an established church such as was created in England near the end of the seventeenth century. At that time, toleration was extended to the dissenting Protestant denominations, but the Church of England continued to hold a preferred position.

In America, established churches continued to exist in some of the thirteen states of the new federal union; but after some decades they too were abolished. Today they would be held to violate the anti-establishment clause of the First Amendment. We delight in the Constitutional order in which ecclesiastical and political authorities are required to be entirely separate and where neither may interfere in the legitimate activities of the other.

Religion and government, on the other hand (as opposed to church and state), are an entirely different matter. Here there is, and should be, an interaction between the two, and where they are in conflict, there should be at least an attempt at reconciliation. "We are a religious people," Justice William O. Douglas wrote in Zorach v. Clauson, in words that are as true today as they were fifty years ago. The same First Amendment that forbids the establishment of religion guarantees its free exercise. A religious people adhering to diverse faiths is free to seek to influence its government to implement religious beliefs—short of establishment—in carrying out its governmental functions. At the same time, a religious people must respect the goals and policies of government that are, indeed, governmental and not religious. In Jesus's famous words, we must "render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's" (Matt. 22:21). Government may require, for the sake of peace within a given polity and in protection of diversity, that equal opportunity be accorded to views that not only contradict the teachings of a given religion but that also contradict the teachings of all religions. Caesar may even require the performance of certain actions—for example, military service in an unjust war—that contradict religious teachings; and yet people of religious faith may be required, as law-abiding citizens, to obey.

Tensions between religious belief and governmental policy, between the sacred and the secular, become especially acute when adherents of different religious faiths compete with each other to influence government action. In such a competition, religious groups are tempted to use politic weapons; political groups are tempted to invoke religious authority. This book, I believe, is intended to address these tensions in a creative way to help replace the competition of religious groups with cooperation among their adherents and to reconcile the common political tasks that they face with common elements of religious belief that they share.

There is, indeed, a religious basis for the reconciliation of government and religious belief. It is implicit in Jesus's saying; for although he made a sharp distinction between the ruler and God, at the same time he affirmed that it was God's will that matters within Caesar's competence be respected and therefore, implicitly, that it was God's will that government act responsibly, that government be good government.

Religion is in tension with government because the latter is an instrument of coercion that imposes stability and order on social relations, while religion is a voluntary commitment to a set of beliefs and a way of life. Through its sense of the holy, religion challenges all existing social structures. Yet government and religion are also dimensions of each other. A society's belief in an ultimate transcendent purpose is manifested in its political processes. The two need each other—government to give religion its social dimension, religion to give government its spirit and the sanctity it needs to command respect.

Are divisions among religious denominations in the United States, and especially in the State of Utah, so strong as to frustrate the effort to reconcile government with the common elements of diverse religious faiths? This book gives a basis for answering that question.

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EDITOR'S PREFACE

Since the inception of this book, the face of the political and international landscape has changed in a dramatic way. After the events of September 11, 2001, the United States came to view itself and the rest of the world differently—a change of view that has been integrated into the political landscape through the election of more conservative legislators at the national level and through the public inclusion of religious perspectives as a litmus test for public office.

Within this new reality, it would be difficult for an atheist to be elected anywhere in the United States, even less so in Utah. People have often commented about the influence of the LDS church in Utah on local and state politics and how it influences public life in general. Anecdotes abound; but the current authors feel that, while recognizing that personal experience certainly represents a datum, what is needed is a multi-faceted scholarly investigation of the issues.

To that end, the present work has gathered together authors from different disciplines and faith backgrounds to examine the role of religion in Utah politics. The authors are religious, political, and legal experts, who offer informed views on church and state interaction, drawing from the literature of their various fields.

Unfortunately, the U.S. Constitution leaves unanswered questions in its brief mention of church and state. Thomas Jefferson made the most famous comment on the topic, but outside the arena of Constitutional discussions, when he said that there should be a wall separating the two. This does not tell the whole story of the complex interplay between the political and religious.

In Dr. Berman's book Church and State, he emphasizes the necessity for the church to call on the government to be more humane and of allowing the church to challenge the government as a consequence of the First Amendment. This was also the perspective of many of the framers of the Constitution. John Adams was quite clear that he did not want an established religion in the U.S., nor did he want litmus tests of religious orthodoxy for public office. However, he could not personally understand how someone could not believe in God and did not want to see the church's influence minimized.

The question, then, is how government and the religious establishment should interact, not whether or not they should. In Utah there is the prior question about whether there is a de facto established religion, i.e., Mormonism, and whether this has created a disenfranchised minority (those who are not Mormons) who have little or no voice in the life of state government.

At the time of this writing, President Bush has been elected to a second term of office and is preparing for his inauguration. A huge element of the conservative religious community was involved in the recent election and challenged the candidates over their degree of orthodoxy (Bush) or whether they had strayed from the path altogether (Kerry). The election results confirmed the existence of a great division in this country. Now the religious right continues to talk about America being a Christian nation. While it may be true that the framers of the Constitution intended the United States to be Christian, the founders undoubtedly did not anticipate the extent of diversity that developed in our country. Even so, pluralism can be a benefit to society and most certainly an impetus for good governance. If religious groups understand their role vis-á-vis the government to be that of constantly challenging the status quo, then pluralism will bear the fruit of better government. If, however, religious groups begin to claim the government as their own, as might be presently argued for Utah, we will have an oppressive system with little to offer the diverse population—one that may prove detrimental both to our ability to govern and our success in interacting with the rest of the world. If the government chooses to claim a particular religious perspective as the appropriate one (such as has happened during the recent presidential campaign and historically in Utah), then the power of the religious community to demand that government be compassionate will fall away. We will be at the mercy of religious zealots, empowered by misguided political decisions, and power shall have endangered us all.

The Rev. Dr. Jeff Sells
December 31, 2004

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I was asked to write an introduction to this book because it was thought that as a non-Mormon who served for almost sixteen years on the Utah Supreme Court, a court that has not had more than one or occasionally two non-Mormon members at any given time for over seventy years, I might offer some special insight into the issue of Mormonism and the exercise of state power in Utah.

My insight is as follows: During my time on the Utah Supreme Court, the religious affiliation of each of my colleagues was the least important thing one needed to know about them in attempting to predict how they might vote in any given case. Members of the court certainly had different philosophical views, but few of those differences could be traced to a particular sectarian religious base. Of the cases decided during my years on the court, not one comes to mind in which I think the outcome depended upon whether a particular judge was a Mormon, as opposed to being a Presbyterian, Episcopalian, Baptist, Catholic, or Buddhist.

That is not to say that there are no serious church-state issues in Utah that deserve open and public discussion. I am a non-Mormon who has lived in this state for thirty years. During that time, I have attended college and law school, taught at the university level, worked for a governor, practiced law, married, raised children, and have been active in the civic and social life of the community. Yet there are still times when I feel like a stranger in a strange land. A central fact of life in Utah is Mormon hegemony. For those who have never been either cultural or religious Mormons, there is always a tendency to see ourselves as "the other." And for those of us who are not native to Utah--a state in which even today some two-thirds of the population is native-born--the "otherness" is even more profound. It is not just the Mormons' unique belief system or behavioral code or the tendency to hold themselves apart or their homogeneity that I have found most noticeable. For me, it is the dominance of matters political and civic and the almost unconscious blending of the religious and the civil. This blending is a primary subject of the present book.

The subject is an important one for Utah and for the nation. The pervasive institutional links that existed in the last century between the Mormon church and Utah government at the local and state levels, and which many see lingering informally today, form a unique backdrop against which to consider these issues. See Society of Separationists v. Whitehead, 870 P.2d 916,921-29 (Utah 1993). Only in the original colonies did institutional religion and civil government have comparable relationships. Utah presents in a far more modern context issues that occupied the attention of early leaders of the nation. Those issues gave rise to fundamental legal and philosophical doctrines that pervade American political and social thought. How those threads are, or are not, woven into the fabric of political and civic life in Utah should be of broad interest, particularly as the Mormon church, a Utah-based institution, continues its rapid growth nationally and internationally.

The topic is certainly not a new one for those living in Utah, although it is not often approached publicly with candor and intellectual rigor. To focus on this subject is to invite the charge of being divisive, and there is nothing that is more characteristic of the Utah psyche than the need to appear cooperative and cohesive. Yet the fact that a topic is a delicate one is not a reason to refuse to address it, although it may be a reason to approach it with balance and sensitivity. I hope this book helps to open responsible and reflective dialogue on the deeper issues of American social and political culture that so often surface in Utah.

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When the Southern Baptists held their convention in Salt Lake City in 1999, they left little doubt that biblical scripture was subject to interpretation. They resolved that wives should submit graciously to their husbands, an injunction that raised hackles, chuckles, and a new discernment into literal belief. Will D. Campbell, a novelist, essayist, and humorist, whose tradition places him somehow in the Southern Baptist fold, wondered if perhaps the following year his Baptist brethren might take a stand on passages of Jesus and Isaiah where they want to open the doors of prisons and let the prisoners go free. Or as Campbell suggests, they could pass a resolution about Romans 12, where St. Paul tells us to feed our enemies. Our nation would have to lift sanctions on Cuba, Iraq, and Libya and send them food for their crying babies.¹

It seems inescapable, even when deep orthodoxy lies at the root of a person's soul, that at some point it all boils down to a matter of interpretation. Considering that Newt Gingrich, Jerry Falwell, Bill Moyers, and Bill Clinton find themselves located at radically different points along the Southern Baptist continuum, is it not transparently obvious that individuals digest and follow church doctrine according to their own understanding? Jerry Falwell's surprising foray in the late 1990s into spreading Christian love throughout the gay and lesbian community (a shock to the central nervous system of his conservative peers) reinforces the contention that personal interpretation lies at the core of belief systems.

Regardless of Falwell's motivation, he demonstrated in his own inimitable way that old doctrines are not impervious to new renditions. As another example, Catholicism's myriad interpretations are reflected in the divergent views of the Berrigan brothers, Hans Kling, the late Cardinal John O'Connor from New York, and Pope John Paul II. The clash between Senator John Kerry and some Catholic bishops typifies what happens when beliefs are institutionally calcified while individuals talk about more progressive ideas. Diversity of belief within any given religious system makes it utterly absurd for a religious institution to proclaim its doctrines and creeds to be the definition of theological truth. Who can truly boast of harvesting the metaphysical construct upon which the cosmos rests? Conformity of belief is hard to achieve even under the same religious umbrella.

Yet when the demographics of a certain community reflect a strong percentage of one religious denomination, civic leaders with direct ties to the majority church show little restraint in foisting their religious perspective upon a diverse secular society. Civic leaders easily rationalize superimposing their faith onto culture through this odd syllogistic reasoning:

My religion is morally grounded.
My community acts immorally.
Therefore my religion can improve my community.

Such logic exasperates those "outside the fold" and precludes a community identity drawn from various cultures and traditions. When one religious voice dominates, it can overwhelm the culture just as an ocean, continuously pounding the shoreline, can swallow it whole.

Utah serves as a perfect example, not only in its blurring the line separating church and state, but also in its magical thinking that one religious institution could ever claim to know what is best for everyone. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormon) freely exercises its influence on Utah society to shape public values in accordance with the tenets of its nineteenth-century faith.

With tight control over licensing alcoholic beverages—to the point of choking a potentially lively downtown in Salt Lake City—Mormon religious sanctions against liquor extend uncontested into the public arena. Even with the 2002 Winter Olympics, which brought a host of different cultures and traditions to the Wasatch Front, let alone public opinion, Mormons remained steadfast in their refusal to grant exemptions from liquor prohibitions. Not even the press, covering the Olympic games from the convention center, were granted a waiver from its peculiar regulations.² The dominant religion will not surrender a modicum of control over public matters even when the mayor denounces the religious constraints.

Similar moral restrictions resulted in the bizarre situation of having an important Rodin exhibit proceed at Brigham Young University with Rodin's most famous sculpture. The Kiss, secure in its packing crate.³ This classic piece was deemed immoral because the subjects were nude. Although BYU is a private university exempt from public scrutiny, it offers a glimpse into the wider issue of tight religious control permeating much of Utah's secular culture.

Although Mormonism's blatant influence upon contemporary Utah life may rile the non-Mormon population (currently estimated at 30 percent statewide), my emphasis is on the inherent problem plaguing all dominant religions historically. Mormon transgression of church-state boundaries in Utah merely serves as a microcosm of the broader issue of excessive religious power in a secular setting. For non-Mormons in Utah (referred to as "gentiles"), as well as for everyone throughout American history who might have experienced the sting of oppression for simply failing to subscribe to the dominant religion, it is easy to forget that the prevailing religious authorities usually do not intend any malice.

The motive for extending church values into the public domain is ostensibly for everyone's benefit and for the good of society as a whole. While elected officials throughout Utah's rural communities refer to each other as "brother" and "sister," their exclusive language is mostly benign. They want to elevate the entire community to their interpretation of a "good" environment. Yet people outside the dominant religion reel from the assumption by those in power that their moral/theological convictions best serve the entire community. In other words, a church institution claiming an abundance of community leaders who share the same belief system inherits the envious position of interpreting on behalf of everyone how a society functions well. Other value systems receive little consideration—basically because the predominant religion is convinced that it acts on behalf of the best interests of the whole community. Without a shred of accountability, the dominant religion proceeds unhindered, motivated by its own religiously based interpretation of the perfect society.

Again, Utah lends itself as a perfect illustration. Despite Utah's growing diversity, LDS authorities have their own vision for making Salt Lake a genuinely better place in which to live. Thus, when the LDS church purchased Main Street from Salt Lake City, it not only took the public space literally out from under the feet of its citizenry, the church interpreted this unusual real estate transaction as a gracious gesture on its part to make downtown more hospitable. Main Street would no longer be snarled with noisy traffic but would be transformed into an idyllic pedestrian mall with fountains and flowers and benches on which to rest, conveniently contiguous to Temple Square and the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. Without giving any thought to political process and the egregious breach of church-state separation, church authorities assumed that this tranquil park in the midst of urban chaos would serve everyone well. LDS spokesmen touted the new park-like setting as "a little piece of Paris," oblivious to the fact that it far more resembled the Vatican than the liberating atmosphere of a Parisian garden.

The clause in the LDS church's acquisition of Main Street (and the single item which sparked the most controversy) pertained to the public easement. It was originally believed to have been the condition on which the city council approved the deal, but it somehow disappeared from the records. Thus, only one religious voice and message can be heard along Main Street while the LDS church patrols and regulates Main Street with its own security guards. The dominant church, with one stroke of the pen, became the gatekeeper to what was once a public thoroughfare, making sure that all who walk the street must comply with LDS standards of appropriate dress. No loud music or meetings or distribution of literature other than LDS literature will mar this little piece of Paris. These restrictions, the public is told, will ostensibly benefit the moral climate of the whole community.⁴

Non-Mormons, incredulous at the image of Main Street (America's symbol of a public square) being pressed into service to enhance the Mormon presence in downtown Salt Lake, must understand that such audacity vexes every religion when the balance of power tips mightily in the direction of ecclesiastical power brokers. When any church emerges as the dominant force in its culture, the impassioned zeal to "fix" public morality according to its own interpretation of principles becomes virtually unstoppable. It resembles not only the proverbial kid in a candy store, but the kid who finds himself in such a coveted place with no parental supervision. When religious power goes unchecked in the public arena, minority views suffer terribly and the Constitutional line drawn between church and state is obliterated.

I can't think of any religion which, given the power to control secular affairs, hasn't exploited it to its own advantage. My own Unitarian religion owns a notorious past in Boston from the early nineteenth century. The esteemed Unitarian historian, Conrad Weight, my professor at Harvard Divinity School in the 1970s, seemed to take great delight in debunking the myth of our liberal heritage. Unitarians have a fuzzy notion that they rescued oppressed minorities and championed every cause for freedom and dignity throughout American history. But the old cliche that power corrupts holds true for a denomination that wears its liberal heart on its sleeve.⁵ It may be hard to imagine that Unitarians ever wielded so much power, but they did comprise the "establishment" in nineteenth-century Boston. In such an elevated position of prestige and power, Unitarians did not hesitate to intrude into secular affairs with complete indifference to religious minorities. Unitarians were part of the "standing order" which gave them special status in the relationship between church and state, a privilege extending as far back as the early colonies.⁶ This special status was not abolished in Massachusetts until 1833; and until that year, local towns were required to provide for the support of public worship by taxation. This meant that members of "minority" religions outside the standing order had to pay ministerial salaries to the churches that had special protected status.

Unitarians defended the standing order as follows: "Tax support of public worship is not a benefit to religion or church. The coercive powers of the state can restrain men from committing crime, but they cannot make them positively virtuous."⁷ Unitarians, like every church enjoying the fruits of a favorable imbalance of power, sought to make society "more virtuous." Propelled by a sense of duty and acting, needless to say, without malice, Unitarians interpreted the moral values befitting a civilized society according to their own religious grounding. The Unitarian interpretation could never be seriously challenged since most people in that society held common values. It seemed entirely logical to extend those cherished values freely into the public sector. Public schools, for example, were a prime target for liberal (Unitarian) reformers.

Insensitivity toward a minority view was easily rationalized by the same twisted logic that visits every dominant religion: purporting to know what is best for the community. In 1820, William Ellery Channing, who organized the Unitarian denomination and established its headquarters in Boston, argued in a sermon that religion diminished the necessity of public restraint because of its influence on the hearts of men. That is to say, Channing insisted that the public continue paying its taxes to support Unitarianism because of the church's ability to inculcate integrity and happiness into society.⁸ After the standing order was finally abolished in 1833, Unitarians (still holding a majority position) persisted in believing that their set of values prevented civilization from plummeting into barbarism.

Such hubris afflicts all dominant religions regardless of time and place. Once in power to set the civic agenda as they choose, a dominant religion seems incapable of resisting the temptation to elevate society to higher moral ground as interpreted by the religious authorities themselves.

Once Unitarians no longer legally held a civic advantage, they turned their attention to moral education in the public schools. They supported the leadership of one of their own, Horace Mann. Infusing the young with Unitarian values would contribute to maintaining the "stability of the state."⁹ This incessant drive to inculcate one's own well-meaning moral vision into the community is like a virus, impeding a healthy separation of church and state. Wright argues that the standing order in Massachusetts had no consciousness of its support of oppression.

The same innocence surrounds my LDS friends and neighbors who are oblivious to the theocratic flavor of life in Utah. They maintain, with all good intentions, that the state merely serves to keep the public safe and morally sound. Mormons and gentiles alike often draw distinctions between Utah Mormons and out-of-state Mormons. Mormons who live as minorities elsewhere in the country make fewer assumptions about their political power. They practice Mormonism as an expression of private faith with no illusion of turning their community into a mirror of their church. In fact. Mormons outside of Utah rely on the separation of church and state to ensure that they are not subjected to the values and influences of other faiths. A case in point is the Mormon family in the small Texas town of Santa Fe who, together with a Catholic family, filed suit through the ACLU. They contended that their rights were abrogated when Baptist prayers were recited at all school events. The ACLU won the case since the court agreed that such practices blatantly violate church-state separation.¹⁰ Ironically, the LDS church in Utah holds the ACLU suspect as it goes about its business of protecting religious freedom for local minority populations.

My point is simply this: Transgressing church-state boundaries must not be viewed as a Mormon foible, but instead as a recurrent theme in American history when one particular church holds--and exercises--the power to influence secular affairs. Dominant churches conveniently help themselves to a case of political amnesia, forgetting the free and open process guaranteed to all in a pluralistic society. Honoring and listening to values grounded in other belief systems becomes superfluous in a society where the outcome of a vote never holds any suspense.

It is not surprising that Mormon intolerance of other viewpoints sounds an ironic note, creating a situation not unlike a scenario from our Puritan past. Mormons have historically borne the brunt of religious intolerance, propelling them westward to Utah where they could ultimately live in peace while breathing the air of religious freedom. Yet, now that Mormons are reaping the benefits of being power brokers in Utah, they remain somehow impervious to their own system of exclusion. William Sloane Coffin, senior minister of the Riverside Church in New York and former chaplain at Yale, tells the largely forgotten story of Quaker Mary Dyer and her Puritan inquisitors as part of his book, The Heart Is a Little to the Left. After the Puritans sailed to America to avoid British persecution for their own "radicalness," they promptly became the intolerant rulers of religious and moral ideas in their new country. When Mary Dyer refused to recant her "dissident" beliefs, she was hanged in the public square, still insisting: "Truth is my authority, not some authority my truth."¹¹

Contemporary America has fortunately moved beyond public hangings, but the core problem haunts us still. Authoritative truth still takes precedence over personal truth when one group dominates the landscape. During the 1970s, for example, Utah's legislators were in favor of passing the Equal Rights Amendment. It wasn't until word came down from church authorities for the need to "protect women" and the sanctity of the home that institutional authority triumphed over personal authority.¹² The MX missile crisis proved to be an interesting time in Utah religious politics. With the promise of new dollars enticing the legislature to approve Utah as home for the controversial missile known (with a straight face) as "The Peacekeeper," Utah leaders responded eagerly to the federal government's proposal. LDS church president Spencer W. Kimball reversed this euphoria by issuing a public statement decrying missile proliferation in general and the proposed MX base location in particular. Although non-Mormons applauded the sudden turn of events, assuming the pronouncement had been made on moral grounds, Kimball revealed that his reason for taking a stand was his fear that the Mormon capitol could become a target in the event of war--a pragmatic, political calculation, not an issue of morality. In any case, the state legislature followed their prophet, and one of the greatest legislative flip-flops in history became a Utah reality.¹³

In most instances, no one speculates about what the official church position might be on a given topic in Utah because word gets out through the editorials on the back page of the Deseret News's tabloid-sized Church News. No official proclamation resembling a papal decree is necessary because if the church hints at its position, the rest takes care of itself. Whether the issue centers around liquor laws, pari-mutuel betting, gay rights, same-sex marriage, or closing swimming pools on Sundays, the authorized position is soon clearly known. With obedience to authority touted as a virtue, LDS leaders find themselves in the comfortable position of seldom facing even the mildest challenge to their decisions.

However, challenges do exist within Mormonism, just as they do within every denominational system of belief. A variety of interpretations about "truth" and the "good" cannot help but bubble to the surface like effervescence in a carbonated drink. Not all Mormons or Baptists or Roman Catholics feel compelled to follow the authoritative script. In Utah, dissidents may not be hung in the public square, but liberal professors at BYU are regularly purged from the faculty ranks. Although the issue is argued as an attack on academic freedom, the contest is really just another manifestation of whose "truth" ultimately prevails. An individual's personal beliefs and an institution's doctrinal beliefs are two sources of truth. They clearly can be at odds with each other, especially in an institution of higher learning. Critical thought has difficulty surviving in an environment swarming with absolutes.

Similarly, in rebuffing different interpretations of LDS ideology, the faith's governing First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles marginalize progressive Mormons who engage in the open exchange of ideas offered by the Sunstone symposia.¹⁴ Every dominant religion likes to think that one meaning fits everyone's sensibilities, which understandably creates the impression of a united and harmonious tradition. Anything less global might jeopardize the solidarity a dominant religion needs to project in order to secure its political advantage.

We must never forget that control of a majority can intoxicate any institution with power. There aren't any exceptions to this. When it is possible to impose a religious vision of "good" onto a secular community with impunity, church-state issues become a mere nuisance, a hurdle easily overcome or bypassed. Strong enough to overpower all opposition and virtuous in the confidence that its moral vision is the correct one, every dominant church will lose perspective. The assumption may be well-meaning but it is absurdly egotistical. The crucial distinction between "faith" and "truth" gets distorted to the point where private beliefs (judgments about women, gays, and minorities, interpreted from religious texts) emerge as incontrovertible evidence for sound secular law. For example, the Mormon belief in the inherent inferiority of gays and lesbians (viewed as a true fact of life) made it impossible to protect the civil rights of homosexuals. That is to say, not all people merit protection under law. Exceptions to enforcing liberties for all people as prescribed by secular law are made according to religious texts. In 2000, Salt Lake City's mayor Rocky Anderson created a furor in the city council by issuing an executive order to end discrimination against homosexuals, at least in the personnel policies within his administration.¹⁵ The furor was caused, not because this extension of protection had been so long in coming, but because he violated the religious rules about who can be protected under the law.

Once the ambiguous line separating church and state is trespassed, those living outside the dominant culture are inclined to feel that the prevailing church is motivated by sheer lust for tyranny. I don't think that's quite accurate. If anything, dominant religions in Utah, the Bible Belt, or nineteenth-century Boston have believed with utter sincerity that their values, once implemented, would only improve the social order.

The issue that remains unresolved is whether or not churches holding a unique advantage of power can resist the temptation to act unilaterally in secular affairs. Every religious institution must concede that faith, regardless how strong and powerful, merely reflects one interpretation of truth. When faith becomes the arbiter of secular laws and practices, those outside the dominant view inevitably suffer a grievous injustice. Does not religious imperialism become the tacit tone in a community whenever a single faith guides the moral and political policies of secular culture?

Restoring integrity to the vision of James Madison in maintaining ironclad separation between religious interpretation and secular law raises some interesting concerns. It seems that not much can be done to waterproof this porous membrane whenever one church dominates the state unless the church itself understands its responsibility toward a diverse population. Every religion on the face of the planet heralds compassion and justice as pillars of its faith. Every religion on the face of the planet knows how to talk the talk. But religious institutions dominating a community must assume responsibility to walk the talk. They must realize that honoring church-state separation is a commitment to justice.

Diversity has unarguably become the signature of American culture. Thus, every religion with the potential of swaying public laws through the power of its religious authority must reflect long and hard on the meaning of truth. It must ask whether or not a variety of interpretations exists, as evidenced by the diverse culture. It must conduct this assessment honestly. If it does, I believe that it will conclude that no single religious interpretation must ever control the public square.

For its part, the public needs to understand that dominant religions are not inherently evil, just inherently vain. They violate the separation of church and state on the pretense that they know what is best for the surrounding culture. Members of dominant religions need to reexamine such assumptions, and members of non-dominant religions need to engage in that dialogue with them, even on such a simple level as identifying the assumption itself. When the dominant religion takes the bold, yet necessary step of acknowledging that a variety of interpretations exists in scripture, in life-style, and in defining the "good" of society, then it begins to affirm the principles of democracy. If only one religious voice is heard in a pluralistic society, it cannot purport to serve everyone regardless how benign its intention. Democratic ideals can flourish only when personal belief and secular life remain separate entities.

It's all a matter of "interpretation," is it not? Regardless of our desire to follow even the most fundamental tenets of our respective religious affiliations, personal experiences color our response to absolute proclamations. A democracy cannot permit an authoritative church voice to override the personal or legal voice. If it does, injustice is inevitable. Dominant churches bear the responsibility in seeing that democratic processes flow unencumbered. Quite simply, churches have to exercise restraint and concede the public square.

The burden rests, first and foremost, with the dominant religion in a given area. It must acknowledge frankly that myriad interpretations exist. This is a prerequisite for a democratic society. A dominant religion cannot afford to neglect diversity, at least not in American society. Otherwise, how do we distinguish our republican government from a theocracy? Dominant religions cannot paint the community with one moral brush. Diversity may prove a thorn in the side of mandated religious opinion, but for the sake of ensuring democracy, for the sake of respecting the integrity of all people, religions must become exemplars of a free society.

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Notes

1. Will D. Campbell, Soul among Lions (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1999), 21-22.

2. The topic of alcohol generated innumerable discussions and found its way into virtually every pre-Olympic story for four years. The problem was perceived to be of such a magnitude that the International Olympic Coordination commission asked the Salt Lake Organizing Committee "to lobby for a change" as early as May 1999. See Mike Gorrell, "Want to Keep Reporters Happy? Keep Them Drinking," Salt Lake Tribune, 20 May 1999, A-l.

3. See, e.g., Dan Egan, "BYU's Ban on Four Rodin Pieces Mystifies National Art Expert," Salt Lake Tribune, 28 Oct. 1997, B-l. Humor columnist Robert Kirby, "Nudity Issue? Let's Just Grin--And Bare It," satirized the incident: "Being naked in Utah County is not a good thing, even for statues. Or so says BYU." Ibid. The Tribune also editorialized ("Closeting Rodin," 31 Oct. 1997, A-18): "The Rodin episode is the latest in a string of incidents that call into question BYU's commitment to unfettered intellectual inquiry and how that can be reconciled with religious doctrine."

4. See "'The Only Game in Town': The ACLU and the Mormon Church" by Stephen C. Clark, this volume.

5. The historian Lord John Acton is credited with the maxim, "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

6. The Standing Order of New England churches was established by the Puritans on a Calvinist basis. Liberals, such as Unitarians, questioned Calvinism but still held to the special favor of being supported by taxes. Those fighting for the separation of church and state at the time were Baptists, Quakers, Universalists, and independent revivalists. David Robinson, The Unitarians and the Universalists (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1985), 4, 47-48.

7. Conrad Wright, The Liberal Christians: Essays on American Unitarian History (Boston, Unitarian Universalist Association, 1970), 111.

8. Ibid., 112.

9. Ibid., 116.

10. Dan Eagan, "Jesus at the Football Game," Salt Lake Tribune, 3 June 2000, C-l.

11. William Sloane Coffin, The Heart Is a Little to the Left: Essays on Public Morality (Hanover: Dartmouth/University Press of New England 1999), 29.

12. See D. Michael Quinn's "Exporting Utah's Theocracy Since 1975" and Calvin L. Rampton's "Toleration of Religious Sentiment," both in this volume.

13. Summary of events by Salt Lake Tribune staff writer George Raine, 6 May 1981; clipping in my possession.

14. Vern Anderson, "A Cloud Hangs over Sunstone," Salt Lake Tribune, 10 July 1999, C-l.

15. Rebecca Walsh, "Mayor Outlaws Gay Bias," Salt Lake Tribune, 5 Apr. 2000, A-l, A-8; Alan Edwards, "Rocky Bans Bias Based on Sexual Orientation," Deseret News, 5 Apr. 2000, B-l, B-2.