For those who are keeping track, the "living Constitution" just "evolved" again.
Up to now, we were assured that shushing public expressions of Christian faith was about maintaining the "separation of church and state" that the Supreme Court wished into the Constitution. To keep the ACLU's finger off the lawsuit button -- I mean, "to embrace diversity" -- Christian public officials, in particular, were instructed to confine statements of faith to explicitly religious settings.
But the hyperactive condemnation of Alabama's new governor, even after he followed the secularists' guidelines to the letter, shows the rules have changed once more. And that, gentle reader, should be a lesson against taking advice on practicing your faith from people who don't share that faith or who take a radically different view of it.
Robert Bentley was sworn in at the Alabama Capitol. After taking the oath of office, he left government property and entered a Baptist church. There, among primarily fellow believers, Bentley, a Baptist deacon, made a statement that reflects 2,000 years of Christian teaching: "Anybody here today who has not accepted Jesus Christ as their savior, I'm telling you, you're not my brother and you're not my sister, and I want to be your brother."
That should have been as controversial as snarfing deviled eggs at a covered-dish supper in the fellowship hall -- particularly since moments before, Bentley had painstakingly noted that he would be a governor for all residents of the state. But in today's oddly jumbled atmosphere of militant diversity and easily bruised multicultural sensibilities, acknowledging that different religions hold views that are mutually exclusive is simply not done. Even retreating to the sanctuary of a church is no longer grounds for thinking you're entitled to profess such beliefs, as the governor discovered.
He "went too far," proclaimed the head of something called the Interfaith Alliance, a group so left-wing that even Walter Cronkite liked it. Bentley "created two classes of citizens in Alabama," the leader of the obscure organization frothed, in comments that The Associated Press and some Alabama newspapers actually took seriously. Others, too, were horrified that a Christian talked about Christ's teachings in a Christian setting. (And this just in: A surprising new study suggests nine out of 10 kids prefer cookies to cauliflower.)
What this episode in gratuitous offense-taking reveals is that some who are ever so fussy about expressions of belief are no longer content to dismantle Nativity scenes and censor voluntary prayers at graduation. Now the goal seems to be to turn churches into faith-free zones, too.
So lest we usher in Inquisition 2.0 by our intolerant humming of "Jesus Loves Me," let us seek guidance from the spiritual sages in the media and at helpful organizations such as the Interfaith Alliance. Namely, under what circumstances, at what moments and in what locations may Christians still utter:
• The Lord's Prayer?
• The 23rd Psalm?
• John 3:16?
If the answers are "None," "Never" and "Nowhere," believers might consider ignoring the "guidance" and practicing their beliefs as commanded by a considerably higher authority.
De-fang class warriors, Governor
Dear Gov. Haslam:
I understand why you might not want to divulge your outside income. In an era when covetousness masquerades as concern for the poor, a Republican whose income puts him among the really wealthy is going to get barbecued.
It makes no difference whether you earned every penny honestly. It doesn't matter that your family's company employs thousands. It is irrelevant that you may have given lots of money to charity. GOP politician plus big money leaves the class-envy crowd in seizures of indignation every time.
But you're mistaken if you think that not revealing your income will keep the redistributionist nags at bay. To the contrary, that'll just make them start peddling conspiracy theories: "What slimy business deals is Haslam hiding?" "Is he on the take?" "Who did he sell us down the river to?" (Or, among the grammatical, "To whom did he sell us down the river?")
So do yourself a favor: Disarm the busybodies. Tell them what you earn, then let them shriek about "obscene salaries" or "robber barons" or whatever hip blather oozes out of Havana and AFL-CIO headquarters nowadays.
They'll do that anyway.
But you are not required to feed their fevered imaginations.
To reach Steve Barrett, call 423-757-6329 or e-mail sbarrett@timesfreepress.com.