Prayers from a Gutter
The boys and girls traveled more than twenty-three hundred miles. They came to Washington, DC, to see their nation's capitol—to walk among the statues honoring the greatest of our patriots, to gaze upon the monuments to freedom's greatest moments.
And the students from an American history class at Wickenburg Christian Academy in Arizona also came to pray. The young Christians were demonstrating the lessons they learned—to pray for the nation, to pray for her leaders, and to petition the Almighty for His continued blessings.
The small group had just taken a photograph on the steps of the Supreme Court building when the teacher, Maureen Rigo, gathered them to a side location. They formed a circle and on May 5, the day before the National Day of Prayer, they began to pray.
"It was just supposed to be a time that we could pray quietly for the Supreme Court, for the decisions they need to make and for our congressmen," she said. "We kind of feel like our government can use all the prayers it can get."1
Within a matter of moments, an armed police officer "abruptly" interrupted the prayer and ordered the group to cease and desist.
Nate Kellum, senior counsel with the Alliance Defense Fund, told me it was an incredulous moment. "They were told to stop praying because they were violating the law and they had to take their prayer elsewhere," he said.
Mrs. Rigo, the American history teacher, was stunned, and several of her students were overcome with emotion.
"I was pretty shocked because we've prayed there before and it's never been an issue," she said. "His (the police officer's) comment was, 'I'm not going to tell you that you can't pray. You just can't pray here.'"
So the group of fifteen students and seven adults obeyed the police officer and did as they were instructed. They left the Supreme Court and relocated to a sidewalk where Mrs. Rigo said the children stood in a gutter and continued their prayer.
"It's an outrage of the first magnitude," said Congressman Trent Franks, a Republican from Arizona. The school is in his congressional district.
"When the day comes that people at the Supreme Court press children off into the gutter before they can pray, it portends a very frightening future for this country," he told me.
"This police officer acted reprehensibly," Franks said. "Those students had every right to pray there on the steps of the Supreme Court."
The Alliance Defense Fund sent a letter to the Supreme Court urging them to stop their police officers from banning prayers. And a spokesperson for the Court said the marshal of the court will look into the events alleged by the ADF.
"The Court does not have a policy prohibiting prayer," said public information officer Kathy Arberg in an e-mail.
"The Court's policy regarding the use of most public areas at the Court has been to permit activity related to the business of the Court, including traditional tourist activity and ingress and egress for visitors but not to permit demonstrations and other types of activity that may tend to draw a crowd or onlookers," she said. "In addition, under 40 U.S.C. section 6135, it is unlawful to parade, stand, or move in processions or assemblages in the building and grounds, including the plaza and steps, but not including the perimeter sidewalks."
But Kellum said the fifteen students and seven adults did not constitute a parade.
"From what we gather, the police officer at the Supreme Court building determined that because they were bowing their heads, they were bringing notice to their Christianity, which they considered a movement and thus violating this federal statute," he said.
Congressman Franks said he worried about the message it sent to the young children.
"I hope somehow this injustice is brought right," he said. "These kids shouldn't grow up thinking that it's all right to stand by and let that happen to them. Their courage may keep it from happening not only to other children but may be some sort of example to the nation."
Bob Ritter, staff attorney for the American Humanist Association and a member of the Supreme Court Bar, said he doesn't believe the police officer's action had anything to do with an attack on religion.
"The policy would be that a group of people would not be able to amass on the steps for security reasons," he said. "But this would not have anything to do with praying."
Rigo said she decided to use the events of last May as a learning experience for her young students.
"We do a long study on the U.S. Constitution," she said. "We talked about the rights given to us in the First Amendment—the right to freedom of speech, the right to freedom of religion. We have the right to peaceful assembly. We have the right to due process of law. We feel like all of those things had been denied us there."
And so it was on a warm spring day that a group of boys and girls from Arizona gathered together in a gutter to petition God to bless this nation on the eve of the National Day of Prayer.
May God have mercy on us indeed.
13
Walk toward the Light
I've been feeling a bit under the weather lately so I decided to drop by my doctor's office for a quick checkup. I've been going to the same physician for quite some time so you can imagine my surprise when I discovered his office was shuttered. There was a "For Sale" sign on the window and tumbleweeds blowing across the parking lot.
On the front door was a note:
To my faithful patients,
Thank you for many years of support. Sadly, I have decided to close my practice. After the government takeover of the health-care industry, it became clear that I would no longer be able to support my family as a private physician. I encourage you to visit the community's official government-sanctioned health-care facility around the corner. Just look for the sign with the giant yellow M.
I hope you will visit me at my new place of employment. I'm a barista at Starchucks Coffee House.
Sincerely,
Doc
What a shocker! I knew some doctors were having a hard time making ends meet, but geez! I walked around the corner, and sure enough, there was a gleaming red and chrome building. Out front was the giant yellow sign: McQuack. "Over 200 million served and dropping."
I walked inside and was warmly greeted by a pimply faced teenager with braces.
"Hi, I'm Trudy. Welcome to McQuack. How may I serve you today?"
"I'd like to see a doctor, please."
"Just place your finger in the biometric scanner, and McQuack will be glad to take care of you," she said.
I did as I was instructed when suddenly the scanner began buzzing and blinking red.
"Sir, I'm afraid your genome has been declined."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"It means you don't have an appointment to see a McQuack physician."
"Can I make an appointment?"
"It's not that simple," she said. "The next opening we have is in about eighteen months."
"Eighteen months? But I have the sniffles now. What am I supposed to do?"
"Well, if you needed lip augmentation or a back wax, we could fit you in right away."
"My lips are fine," I protested, "it's my allergies, and I really need to see someone."
"Then I should probably direct you to the McQuack super value menu where you can be seen by a member of the American Corps of Registered Nurses, also known as ACORN."
"Uh, what else do you have?"
"We can hook you up with a health associate from the Civilian National Security Force."
I decided to take my chances with the health associate. I was led into a small, windowless room where I was given a government-issue hospital gown and told to strip to my skivvies. A few minutes later a fresh-faced fellow walked into the room holding an iPad.
"Good afternoon, sir. I'm Johnny, your friendly neighborhood Internal Revenue Service professional heal
th-care associate. How may I be of service?"
Wait a second, I thought to myself. I know this guy.
"Johnny?"
"That's my name, sir."
"Johnny the pizza guy?"
"Mr. Starnes? Is that you?"
"What the heck—you delivered a pizza to me last week."
"Ain't life crazy? Last week I delivered a vegetarian pizza to a community organizer in Brooklyn and got offered this job as a friendly neighborhood Internal Revenue Service professional health-care associate. Isn't this an amazing country? So what seems to be your trouble?"
He listened intently as I described my sniffles, taking notes on his iPad while shaking his head.
"Now according to your last Internal Revenue Service audit, you've been treated for high blood pressure, irritable bowel syndrome, and acid indigestion."
"That's correct," I replied. "It sort of hit me after the last general election, but I'm feeling much better."
"That's good to hear, Mr. Starnes, but I'm afraid we may have a problem. The Internal Revenue Service only allows three health credit deductions per American," he said. "According to our records, you've reached the limit."
"And that's a problem?"
"I'm afraid it is, sir. Under the government's new three-strikes-you're-out law, you've already reached your health credit limit."
"For this month?"
"No, sir. For your life."
"I don't think I'm following you."
"It means McQuack can't treat your sniffles," he said.
I was stunned. "What do you mean you can't treat me? I thought we were supposed to have access to the best health care on the planet! I read the bill—all 248,000 pages. I thought government-funded health care was a God-given right. I thought it was supposed to provide me universal health care, build jungle gyms, cure urban blight in Scranton, Pennsylvania, and provide Viagra to sex offenders?"
Johnny the pizza guy let out a deep sigh and said, condescendingly, "And do we believe in the tooth fairy, too, Mr. Starnes?"
"There must be a mistake," I stammered.
"Mr. Starnes, I am a highly trained health-care associate employed by the Internal Revenue Service. I can assure you McQuack does not make mistakes."
"Look, all I have is a case of the sniffles," I said. "Just give me some allergy medicine, and I'll be on my way."
"It's not that simple, Mr. Starnes. This was a complicated algorithm. First, we examined your computerized medical records. Then we consulted with the government's mandated health-care guidelines. We took that information and factored in your life expectancy, multiplied that number with your carbon footprint, and finally we divided that number by your earning potential."
"So what are you telling me?"
"You probably shouldn't have had that large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese last week."
It took a few minutes to understand what was happening.
"Sweet mercy! You're sending me to a death panel, aren't you?"
Johnny the pizza guy smiled and shook his head. "Oh, that's just a bunch of right-wing propaganda," he said. "There are no death panels, no grim reapers. Here at McQuack, it's just plain old BOB."
"Who's Bob?"
"BOB is a what," he said. "It stands for Board of Bereavement, and as we've been chatting, BOB has been plotting your future."
"And what's the verdict?"
"Well, Mr. Starnes, you love your country, don't you?"
"Of course I do."
"Well, BOB believes the most patriotic thing you can do is stop breathing."
"But I've only got the sniffles, and you're telling me I'm doomed?"
"It's for the good of the country, Mr. Starnes," said Johnny the pizza guy.
I started getting a bit misty. So this was it. I was about to meet my Maker. "Could I at least visit with a minister?"
"Umm, that's going to be a problem—separation of church and state being what it is. I'm sure you understand."
Johnny the pizza guy patted me on the back and thanked me for the generous tip I had given him the previous week.
"I can see you are a bit apprehensive, but you don't have to worry about a thing. We've made amazing advances in pharmaceuticals that help transition health consumers like yourself into the great abyss. At no additional cost to your survivors, the government is willing to provide you with cessation treatments in either pill or liquid form."
"So what are you telling me?"
"You can either drink the Kool-Aid or bend over," he replied.
14
Does the President Have a Jesus Problem?
The nonpartisan Pew Research Center released a survey that indicates a growing number of Americans have doubts about the president's religious beliefs. And while it's not my business to say one way or the other, the issue is worth exploring merely for the fact that a leader's conduct and decision-making will always be influenced by what he or she believes at the core. A nation deserves to know what they can expect.
Faith and practice may be able to stay isolated from one another in theory, but they are joined too closely at the heart to walk in totally separate paths.
Here in a nutshell is the mood of the people: The Pew poll shows nearly 18 percent of Americans believe Obama is Muslim. That's up from 11 percent the previous year. A survey by TIME magazine positions the number even higher at 24 percent.1
Only 34 percent, on the other hand, believe Obama is Christian, down from 48 percent the year before. In other words, as much as 66 percent of the country believes the president is either not a Christian or doesn't know. And the numbers are growing.2
The president, however, refutes the feeling of the American majority. Addressing matters of faith during a prayer breakfast in the nation's capital, he said, "My Christian faith . . . has been a sustaining force for me over these last few years—all the more so when Michelle and I hear our faith questioned from time to time. We are reminded that ultimately what matters is not what other people say about us but whether we're being true to our conscience and true to our God."
OK. I can live with that. I've always been one to take a man at his word. "Do not judge, so that you won't be judged" is how the Scripture reads (Matt. 7:1).
All I'm asking is what I believe to be a fair question: Why the confusion? What accounts for the distance between what the president says and what much of the country perceives? A reporter ought to be able to look curiously and objectively into a plausible answer for that.
A series of incidents may give evidence for the uncertainty.
For starters, does anyone remember the Reverend Jeremiah Wright? The good reverend was President Obama's pastor for twenty years. He married the president and his wife, baptized their daughters, and was given credit for the title of Obama's book, The Audacity of Hope.3
But the Reverend Wright's comments after the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks seem to be etched in people's memories. He delivered a fiery sermon from the pulpit of Chicago's Trinity United Church of Christ suggesting the United States had brought on al Qaeda's attacks because of its own terrorism. "America's chickens are coming home to roost," he thundered.
For those of us who live in the fly-over states, such comments and sentiments are simply hard to fathom. Most of us immediately after 9/11 were in churches where prayers were offered for those who died and those who were injured. We prayed for our nation and our leaders. We sang worship songs and asked God to protect our people. We collected offerings and donations and sent missionary teams to help clean up and repair the damage of that terrible day.
And yet in President Obama's church, there was simply condemnation—of our own country. Loud, profanity-laced sermonizing with the anger pointed at us instead of our cold-blooded enemies. If the pastor of the local First Baptist Church had uttered such vile language, I
suspect the chairman of deacons would have led an armed delegation to the pulpit and ordered him to vacate the building.
Granted, President Obama told The New York Times he was not in attendance during the terrible comments made after 9/11. And once audio of the sermons became a campaign issue, he left the church and denounced his former pastor's remarks. Yet the truth remains he sat under such teaching for twenty years. And one can only wonder how this may have affected his personal views and positions.4
Still, there have been other issues and actions to stir doubts.
• During an interview with The New York Times, Obama recited the opening lines of the Arabic call to prayer with what columnist Nicholas Kristof described as a "first-rate accent,"5 noting this revelation might not set well with people in Alabama. "Mr. Obama described the call to prayer as 'one of the prettiest sounds on Earth at sunset,'" Kristof wrote. For many Americans the prettiest sound on Earth might be Sunday school children singing "Jesus Loves Me."
• The White House omitted the traditional phrase "in the year of our Lord" on a presidential proclamation declaring May as Jewish American Heritage Month. Instead, the final paragraph read, "the thirtieth day of April, in the year two thousand ten." This decision marks a significant change in White House tradition. Both President Clinton and President Bush signed similar declarations with the traditional "in the year of our Lord" closing.
• President Obama dropped the words "by their Creator" when reciting a key excerpt from the Declaration of Independence to the Congressional Hispanic Caucus.6 "We hold these truths to be self-evident," he quoted, "that all men are created equal, endowed with certain unalienable rights: life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." The actual quotation, of course, states that they are "endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights." Easily explained coincidence? Unfortunate oversight? Yet a few weeks earlier, during a speech delivered at a fund-raiser for the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee, the president had already begun this habit of omitting the word Creator when referring to this passage.
Dispatches from Bitter America: A Gun Toting, Chicken Eating Son of a Baptist's Culture War Stories Page 6