Why I Like the Ten Commandments, But Don’t Want Them Set in Stone

One of our state legislators has authored a bill that would allow the construction of a Ten Commandments monument on the grounds of our state capitol in Oklahoma City. The bill is entitled, simply enough, “The Ten Commandments Monument Display Act.”

Frankly, I like the Ten Commandments. I get Sundays off, as Mosiac law says I should. I am strongly discouraged from killing, stealing, committing adultery, or coveting my neighbor’s wife, livestock, or servants—all of which are good prohibitions, I think, and fairly easy to live by. I wish our tax code was so simple.

I’m not sure which version of the Commandments we would display, though, or how much of the actual text. In Exodus, King James Version, Chapter 20, the “Thou shalts” and “Thou shalt nots” start in line three and run through line seventeen. Some of the commandments are pretty self-explanatory, even pithy—like “Thou shalt not steal”— while others require several paragraphs of elaboration (see the one about keeping the Sabbath holy). I suppose Rep. Ritze, the author of the bill, can pare it all down to a few key lines—otherwise we’re talking about a big monument, or very miniscule chisel work. We also have to decide whether to go with the Exodus rendering or the version found in Deuteronomy, 5: 6-21. Personally I think the former is best, since Exodus is much easier to say and spell than Deuteronomy.

The argument Rep. Ritze presents in his bill is quite interesting. He notes that the Ten Commandments “are an important component of the moral foundation of the laws and legal system of the United States of America and of the State of Oklahoma,” and that courts “frequently cite” the commandments in their decisions. Fair enough. Afterwards, though, he argues that the Commandments “represent a philosophy of government held by many of the founders of this nation and by many Oklahomans and other Americans today, that God has ordained civil government and has delegated limited authority to civil government, that God has limited the authority of civil government, and that God endowed people with certain unalienable rights, including life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Here’s where things get a bit dicey. First, Rep. Ritze offers a pretty conservative version of what God ordained, having the Almighty endorse “limited” government. I half expect a Divine proclamation on tax cuts and education vouchers. What is more puzzling, though, is the joining of our sacred and secular liberties so marvelously addressed in the Declaration of Independence with a set of rules that essentially establish a monotheistic theocracy. No other gods, no graven images, no bowing down to them, because God, in addition to being for limited government, is also a “jealous God.” Later, in what is certainly his most disingenuous move in the bill, Rep. Ritze writes, “The placement of this monument shall not be construed to mean that the state of Oklahoma favors any particular religion or denomination thereof over others, but rather will be placed on the Capitol grounds where there are numerous other monuments.”

Let’s pause and ponder. Rep. Ritze says this jealous Hebrew God, whose specific rules serve as the very foundation of our civic, moral, and legal philosophy, won’t mind if we create a monument to some of his best work, yet in the same breath, or perhaps out of the other side of our mouths, deny that that monument indicates favoritism? (Am I just hearing things, or did the cock crow three times?) Not only that, but this monument to the Creator’s centrality in our moral and civic lives is to be, ironically, just one among many such presumably secular monuments.

What we should all find disturbing in the bill is not the proposal to allow an additional monument on state property, or even allow for the building of a clearly religious monument on the Capitol grounds. Rather, what is unsettling is the tortured route Rep. Ritze takes to get us there. It will not be erected for the pedagogical reasons Rep. Ritze offers: so that we “may understand and appreciate the basic principles of the American system of government,” or because the monument “would help people of the United States and of Oklahoma to know the Ten Commandments as the moral foundation of law.” It will be erected, if we are honest about it, because Rep. Ritze wants a Judeo-Christian monument on public property as a proclamation, not a mere reflection, of an idealized Christian America. But he can’t speak the naked truth without revealing the unconstitutionality of the bill by virtue of the Establishment Clause, which reads, “Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of religion.” We can certainly understand why Rep. Ritze calls the Ten Commandments a “philosophy of government,” and the “moral foundation of law,” but not an expression of religion. His bill is a side-step, a hedge, a swerve, a slight of hand.

Quite apart from the dubious rhetorical tactics found in this particular bill, my contention is not that a monument to the Ten Commandments would necessarily violate the oft-cited “separation of church and state,” whereby the state should be cocooned against religious beliefs and influences, or that our elected representatives should leave their religions at home or in their churches or synagogues before crossing the thresholds of their appointed legislative offices. I am not at all interested in protecting the state from religion, as many tend to interpret the Establishment Clause, but rather, as Stephen Carter, a Professor of Law at Yale University explains, the clause is perhaps best read as a way to protect “religion from the state.” I don’t want the state determining what religious monument is appropriate or inappropriate, what element of Christian tradition is the foundation of our moral and legal practice (I prefer the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew’s version, if any one should ask). I will wholeheartedly defend religious speech. After all, what follows the Establishment Clause is the equally important Free Exercise Clause that prevents Congress from prohibiting “the free exercise thereof.” What I do want, however, and what we all must expect for the sake of democracy, is the free and honest flow of dialogue, not the Decalogue set in stone by way of a slickly worded bill.