Law on bended kneeWill a new federal law give religious freedom even more
protection than it has now? Or will it erode other basic
liberties?By John Cloud/TIME
September 6, 1999
Web posted at: 10:17 a.m. EDT (1417 GMT)
Every first-grader learns that the Pilgrims came here to
practice their religion the way they wanted. So you would think
that the debate over freedom of religion was settled long ago.
It wasn't. This week the Senate is expected to consider a bill
called the Religious Liberty Protection Act, whose turgid name
suggests that what the Pilgrims held dear is threatened in the
very nation they founded. Supporters believe that government
officials disrupt religious activities even today, despite the
First Amendment's crystal-clear language: "Congress shall make no
law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the
free exercise thereof."
The bill's backers say cities pass zoning laws that keep churches
out. They say children cannot wear the Star of David to school
because of regulations meant to ban gang symbols. They say
coroners perform autopsies on those whose faith holds that the
corpse is sacred. In short, without the Religious Liberty
Protection Act, says Marc Stern of the American Jewish Congress,
"you send a message to the state [authorities] that they have
carte blanche to interfere with religious practices."
The bill has broad support. It sailed through the House in July.
President Clinton has said he will sign it. That support is
fraying in Washington, however, as more people begin to realize
that the bill's big ambitions could create unintended results.
Proponents of the law say people like Father Timothy Mockaitis
need it. In April 1996, Mockaitis went to the Lane County, Ore.,
jailhouse to hear the confession of Conan Wayne Hale. Authorities
had charged Hale with murdering three teenagers. District
Attorney F. Douglass Harcleroad, thinking Hale might break down
and tell all, had secretly arranged to bug the confession.
The Eugene, Ore., Register-Guard learned about the recording and
reported it. Oregonians were outraged. The Vatican sent a note of
protest. Mockaitis sued, and won a $25,000 settlement after a
federal court said the taping was wrong, in part because it
violated the 1993 federal Religious Freedom Restoration Act. The
reasoning was that the D.A. had interfered with Mockaitis'
religion by taping a sacrament. But in 1997 the Supreme Court
struck down that law, saying it was too broad; Congress could not
dictate terms of religious conduct to every community with a
single law. So the new bill, an effort to achieve the same goals
within more limited boundaries, applies only to individuals or
institutions that receive federal funds or engage in interstate
commerce.
Constitutional scholars disagree over whether the new bill is
still too broad, and it will surely face a Supreme Court test if
it passes. But there is a more basic problem: the law may not be
needed. Mockaitis, for instance, did not need the
religious-liberty law to win his case. The federal court that
ruled in his favor said the taping violated both the Fourth
Amendment, which bans unreasonable searches and seizures, and the
federal Civil Rights Act, which prohibits discrimination based on
religion. (Hale, as it turned out, was convicted of the three
murders, and the tapes, which contained only his professions of
innocence, were not used in court.)
What about other reasons cited for the law? Stern of the American
Jewish Congress, who helped write the bill, says Orthodox Jewish
and Native American families should not have to beg officials not
to perform autopsies on their relatives. He cited a case in Eagle
Pass, Texas, in which a federal judge ruled in favor of an
autopsy on a member of the Kickapoo tribe who justice of the
peace Martha Chacon believed might have been murdered. The judge
said the state's interest in finding the truth trumped the
tribe's religious concerns. In the end, though, Chacon decided
not to order the autopsy; she determined that the woman had
probably killed herself.
Such bureaucratic decisions may be best kept at the local level,
where officials are better equipped to weigh the complex mix of a
community and individual interests. Consider the case of a Jewish
student in Gulfport, Miss., who was told he could not wear a
Star of David to class. School officials said the star was
sometimes used by gangs, and they did not want any such imagery
in classes. The case infuriated supporters of the Religious
Liberty Protection Act. Once again, however, no federal
intervention was required. The local school board decided after
more careful consideration to reverse itself.
There is no doubt that the supporters of the bill have good
intentions. And they are right in thinking that for most of the
nation's history, courts have generally favored religious claims.
Judges have ruled that Amish kids couldn't be forced to attend
school and that Seventh-Day Adventists do not have to work on
Saturdays. But that approach changed in 1990, when conservative
Justice Antonin Scalia wrote a Supreme Court decision that
angered and frightened many religious people. In Employment
Division v. Smith, Scalia said religious claims cannot be used to
justify violating laws as long as those laws apply to everyone of
every faith, neutrally. In the case at hand, Scalia wrote that
Native Americans do not have the right to break antidrug laws
even though peyote use is part of some Indian faiths.
Liberals fretted that the decision would make it easier for the
government to trample on minority religions. Conservatives were
worried that the Smith ruling would erode the autonomy of all
religious institutions--making it easier, for instance, for a
Catholic woman to sue her church to become a minister. The
coalition that eventually formed in support of a new
religious-freedom law includes centrist groups such as the
Baptist Joint Committee on Public Affairs, Christian-right groups
such as Focus on the Family and left-leaning organizations such
as Americans for Democratic Action.
This odd grouping, however, is having trouble staying united. The
American Civil Liberties Union, which helped draft the current
bill, as well as the 1993 law, now opposes it unless an amendment
makes clear that religious claims cannot be used to defeat civil
rights laws. Civil rights advocates are concerned about such
groups as the World Church of the Creator, for example, which
claims a religious belief in promoting the white race. Gay
lawyers say the bill would allow conservative Christian
landlords to refuse to rent to gay people even in states with
laws protecting lesbians and gays from housing discrimination.
Religious-liberty laws are in effect in seven states--Governor
George W. Bush signed one in Texas in June--and they are leaving
their mark on the judicial system. Last fall, for example, the
State of Florida charged the Church of Scientology with criminal
neglect in the death of Lisa McPherson, 36, a Scientologist in
Clearwater, Fla. McPherson was in the care of church staff
members for 17 days in 1995 before dying from a blood clot.
Members of McPherson's family have also sued the church. Church
lawyers have denied the allegation, saying injuries McPherson
suffered in a car accident caused her death and the church had
nothing to do with it.
Scientology is known for its aggressive litigating style. But the
church's most powerful legal weapon could be Florida's
religious-freedom act. After the law glided through the
legislature last year, church lawyers used it to argue that the
criminal charges are illegal because they unduly burden the
church and impair its right to practice religion. The lawyers
have also used the law in the civil case to prevent the family
from seeing notes taken by Scientology counselors who interviewed
McPherson. The church's lawyers say the notes are religious
material protected by the statute; the family believes the notes
may help explain her death.
The Scientology case will probably drag on for years, but
opponents of the religious-liberty bill say the case illustrates
the law's unintended consequences. "It opens the door for all
kinds of religious entities and individuals to make creative
claims," says Marci Hamilton, a constitutional-law professor at
Emory University. "[Supporters] say it's just a simple bill, but
it ends up being a deep political problem that reveals deep
divides in our culture."
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Cover Date: September 13, 1999
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