After I wrote about the hearing on Cranston West's school prayer banner here on Progressive Charlestown, a couple of my classmates suggested that I also write to the Providence Journal and the Cranston Herald. So I rewrote the blog item, which was a tad too long for a letter to the editor, and sent it off. Lo and behold, ProJo has already published it, and it's gotten quite a few comments pro and con. One commenter in particular took issue with my claim that the prayer is decidedly unprayerlike, saying, "If it looks like a prayer, and walks like a prayer, and quacks like a prayer, Linda, it's a prayer."
Ah, but what exactly is a prayer?
The brief filed by the ACLU on behalf of atheist student Jessica Ahlquist also claims that prayer is by definition religious. So I checked the definition in my favorite dictionary, American Heritage.
- A reverent petition made to God, a god, or another object of worship.
- The act of making a reverent petition to God, a god, or another object of worship.
- An act of communion with God, a god, or another object of worship, such as in devotion, confession, praise, or thanksgiving: One evening a week, the family would join together in prayer.
- A specially worded form used to address God, a god, or another object of worship.
- prayers A religious observance in which praying predominates: morning prayers.
- A fervent request: Her prayer for rain was granted at last.
- The thing requested: His safe arrival was their only prayer.
- The slightest chance or hope: In a storm the mountain climbers won't have a prayer.
- Law
- The request of a complainant, as stated in a complaint or in equity, that the court grant the aid or relief solicited.
- The section of the complaint or bill that contains this request.
Now I'm not trying to suggest that the school prayer was intended as a prayer in the legal sense. Clearly, it wasn't. It's also quite clear that when the prayer was first installed in the school auditorium, it was in fact intended as a prayer in the religious sense; the Cranston School Committee has acknowledged as much. The prayer was adopted to replace the Lord's Prayer, which up until then had been recited daily during homeroom by all students regardless of whether they were Roman Catholic or not.
But times were changing, and in light of various challenges to school prayer that were being initiated around the country at the time, the daily recitation of the school prayer was soon dropped in favor of a "moment of silence." Which, when I was at West, I did recognize for the backdoor attempt at keeping prayer in school that it was; if we weren't expected to pray during the moment of silence, what on earth were we supposed to be doing?
But I digress.
Much is made in the legal brief about the overt Christianity of the prayer being addressed to "Our Heavenly Father" and the fact that this form of address is not used by other religions. Which to me is a big so what. I've never understood why people quibble over what name to call god. You say tomayto, I say tomahto.
No, if I wanted to object to the prayer, it'd be as a feminist, on grounds of sexism. Why not Our Heavenly Mother? Jessica Ahlquist says she "feels excluded, ostracized and devalued by her school because she does not share or agree with the religious expression conveyed by the prayer." Seems to me any female student could make an equal claim to feeling excluded by the reference to a male deity.
For that matter, in the complaint filed in U.S. District Court, there is a photograph (above) labeled Exhibit 2 that shows the prayer banner. Hanging next to it is a banner for the Cranston West athletic teams. Do sports banners make nonathletic students feel "excluded, ostracized and devalued" by their school? Should those be taken down as well?
Now don't get me wrong, it's not pleasant feeling excluded, ostracized, or devalued. God knows I felt excluded, ostracized, and devalued in high school, but not because I was a member of a minority religion—I was raised Methodist in a predominantly Roman Catholic community. If anything, many of my classmates were mildly jealous of me because I didn't have to go to catechism; the typical response to learning this was "Lucky stiff!" So maybe Jessica Ahlquist could make some lemonade out of the lemons and when her classmates taunt her for her atheism, she could say "At least I don't have to go to catechism!"
And as they say, "It gets better." High school does end, thank god.
Frankly, I find it comforting that one has to go this far out on a limb to find an alleged violation of the establishment clause in the state founded by Roger Williams, a pioneer of religious liberty in this country.
Amen.