What Counts as “Religion”?
Treating religious claims as strictly experiential-expressive can help carve out a space for religious free exercise, over against its cultured despisers. But this is a profoundly unstable space. For one thing, it generally abandons the possibility of giving a normative account of the good of religion as such. One can point to the meaningfulness of religion in the lives of its adherents, but it is denied any possibility of relevance to reality itself. And, of course, one forfeits any principled reason to claim that the Satanic Temple is “not a religion”—even though, by any standard definition, it clearly is not.
Last month, a grotesque little display popped up in the Iowa Capitol: a shrine to the horned god Baphomet, erected by the “Satanic Temple.”[1] To be clear, the Satanic Temple doesn’t revere a literal Satan. It’s a secular-progressive organization with a 1980s edgelord aesthetic, swiping at conservative appeals to religious liberty.[2] You say you want religious freedom? Well, that means freedom for us Satanists too. See how you like it now!
The display didn’t last. Ex-fighter pilot Michael Cassidy tore it down (and was later arrested).[3] Since then, much of the conversation surrounding the incident has focused on whether Cassidy did the right thing—and whether any legal rationales for the Temple’s use of the space can justify having a Satanic display set up in the halls of governance.
Those debates are noteworthy. And yet, beneath the surface of these arguments is a much deeper question: what is a “religion,” and who gets to define it?
Most people naturally intuit that to the extent it exists solely to mock other faiths, the Satanic Temple isn’t a bona fide “religion.” Its “fundamental tenets” are nothing more than banal left-liberalism, such as the claim that “[b]eliefs should conform to one’s best scientific understanding of the world. One should take care never to distort scientific facts to fit one’s beliefs.”[4] There is nothing here of divinity at all, and decidedly no affirmation of an actually existing Satan to whom one swears fidelity.
But the category of “religion” becomes slippery whenever such notions are invoked. For instance, insisting on belief in “a Supreme Being” as the sine qua non of religiosity would seem to exclude traditions widely understood to be “religions.” Could such a definition extend to the “emptiness” lying at the core of Theravada Buddhism, or the theologies of immanence that characterize modern neopaganism?[5]
Plenty of academics have thrown up their hands and declared the question simply hopeless. As Jason Ānanda Josephson Storm notes, “most scholars trained in Religious Studies today now consider it naive to presume ‘religion’ as a concept. . . . in many quarters the rejection of ‘religion’ as an analytical object approaches the consensus view.”[6]
Such a rejection, though, is a discipline-specific luxury. The First Amendment flatly declares that Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. The category of “religion,” for all its conceptual instability, is firmly embedded in American constitutional law (and echoed in a myriad of statutes). Justices and judges can’t simply make the postmodern move and refuse to answer the question—at least not if they want to keep their jobs. Somehow, “religion” must be defined—and yet, supposedly, it cannot be.
To be clear, this is not a theological-philosophical problem that can be resolved in the space of a single article. What this piece aims to offer is something far more modest: a direction of inquiry that judges and Justices might consider when (inevitably) they are forced to reassess the matter. As appeals to “religious liberty” grow more and more contested, the Satanic Temple, or its imitators, will keep coming, pushing at the boundaries of the concept. The ultimate goal seems to be that scandalized Christians eventually settle for some sort of laïcité and a sterile public square. Christians ought to seek a better world than that.
Begin by clearing away some jurisprudential brush. Some might argue that the question of defining “religion” can be deferred indefinitely through consistent application of originalist methodology—that is, by pointing to historical examples of what counted as “religion” at the time of the Founding, which the First Amendment clearly protects.
The point is well taken. Courts can in practice make this move and avoid the deeper question. The Supreme Court, with its power of discretionary review, need not entertain cases likely to disrupt its existing precedents.[7] (The same is true of many state supreme courts.) From a public-order perspective, there are probably good reasons not to reopen the issue.
But from a theoretical standpoint, this is not especially satisfying. And it leaves questions unanswered that are not clearly resolvable within a narrow historical frame.
It is widely accepted today that the First Amendment’s protections are not limited to Christian (or even Abrahamic) faiths.[8] But there is ample reason to believe that the eighteenth-century drafters of the Constitution, like most other Westerners of the time, would have superimposed Western Christian conceptual frameworks upon religious traditions that in principle diverged sharply from the Jewish-Christian tradition. For example, assuming arguendo that Native American religious practices were originally cognized by the First Amendment, when these traditions speak of a “Great Spirit,” are they referring to a transcendent Creator (e.g., the God of the Abrahamic faiths), or referring to an immanent life-giving power not metaphysically distinct from the world?[9] If the latter, would those Native traditions count as “religions” at all? In the same vein, John Adams’s remarks on Hinduism suggest that he interpreted the tradition through a decidedly Western/Abrahamic lens.[10]
Hence, the deeper question can itself be transposed into an originalist key. To what, exactly, does the First Amendment’s protection for free exercise extend: a religious tradition as such, or the Founders’ inapt understanding of that religion? Is there principled room in the First Amendment for “religion” that does not in fact fit an implicitly Abrahamic paradigm?[11]
In general, the Founders were not what are today called “theologians of religions” or “comparative religionists.” Their use of a familiar theological-philosophical category (that is, religion) was an unanalyzed use (though understandable given the limits of the time). But now, when confronted with more challenging cases and the benefit of deeper knowledge of theological traditions, judges are not exempted from the responsibility to think through this question more systematically.
And that is, in fact, what the Supreme Court has tried to do—for better or worse.
Today, the vast majority of religious liberty cases heard by the modern Supreme Court do not involve fringe groups. The highest-profile court battles usually involve clashes between defenders of traditional Christian commitments and advocates of contemporary views on sex and gender. These cases are selected precisely because they offer clear opportunities for unsettled legal questions to be resolved and (for the most part) avoid getting bogged down in messy procedural issues or questions of disputed fact.[12] In this context, there is simply no reason to reopen questions regarding the nature of religion as such. Nobody seriously contends that Christianity (or Judaism, or Islam) is not a religion for First Amendment purposes.
But in at least two particular contexts, the question becomes much more difficult: cases involving the Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act (RLUIPA), and determinations of conscientious objector status. As relevant here, RLUIPA (enacted in 2000) protects the rights of prisoners to their free exercise of religion while incarcerated. In practice, this often looks like providing special diets or other exceptions to standard prison practice (such as, in the case of a Muslim prisoner, the privilege to grow a short beard).[13] In making such determinations, courts must evaluate whether a prisoner’s supposed religious practice is in fact religious at all.
And the matter becomes even more fraught when questions of the military draft—questions of risk of death—are involved. That’s why, during the Vietnam War, the Supreme Court was required to address directly the sort of belief that properly counts as “religious” for purposes of conscientious-objector status.
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An Open Letter to David French
The closest you came to referencing Scripture is that we need to love our neighbor. But condemning Christians for not loving their neighbor because they refuse a vaccine is a rather tenuous application. In Lev 13:46 the man with an infection isolates himself from the camp by going outside the camp for at least 7 days. We don’t see a command for everyone else to glove up. But we see a principle that the one who has a contagious infection needs to isolate himself from the healthy and warn those who approach (Lev 13:45).
Dear David,I recently read your article, “It’s Time to Stop Rationalizing and Enabling Evangelical Vaccine Rejection”, I am concerned with the following statement castigating fellow Christians:
“But it is increasingly clear that many of the remaining holdouts need their hearts to change before their minds will change. It’s their moral framework that’s broken, and when that framework is broken, reason and virtue have difficulty penetrating a hardened heart.”
David, our moral framework is the Word of God. I appreciated your quote from Martin Luther. But as venerable as he is, his words are not the inspired, infallible, inerrant, and authoritative Word of God. The closest you came to referencing Scripture is that we need to love our neighbor. But condemning Christians for not loving their neighbor because they refuse a vaccine is a rather tenuous application. In Lev 13:46 the man with an infection isolates himself from the camp by going outside the camp for at least 7 days. We don’t see a command for everyone else to glove up. But we see a principle that the one who has a contagious infection needs to isolate himself from the healthy and warn those who approach (Lev 13:45).
Moreover, David, we have the following commandment in our moral framework: “You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor” (Ex 20:16). I think it’s time we stop assuming that men have the ability to read the hearts of millions of people we have never met. Your anecdotal evidence is simply that: a minor compilation of anecdotes. They are not evidence of millions of hard-hearted Christians living in disobedience to their calling in Christ. In Acts 1:24 we learn that only the Lord knows the hearts of men. And in Prov 21:2 we read, “Every man’s way is right in his own eyes, But the Lord weighs the hearts.”
And speaking of weighing the heart, the Westminster Confession of Faith declares that “God alone is Lord of the conscience, and has left it free from the doctrines and commandments of men, which are, in anything, contrary to His Word; or beside it, in matters of faith, or worship” (WCF 20.2). And the Westminster Divines based this statement on James 4:12 and Rom 14: 4. No person may bind another’s conscience, not even one with the best of intentions.
Many have tried to replace God’s Moral Law with a man-made morality. The Pharisees were one such group. The Monastics were another. Today we have the Red-Letter Christians and fundamentalist theologies that add and subtract from the Word of God. I would caution you against this course of action. God’s Word is perfect, restoring the soul.
Let us strive for peace and unity among the brethren, David. And let’s leave it to the Spirit of God to lead each Christian as they seek to follow their Lord faithfully.
Al Taglieri is a Ruling Elder (RE) in Providence Presbyterian Church (PCA) in York, Penn. -
Hunting Sin
Whenever the catechism speaks of a saving grace it means that the subject under consideration is a fully orbed gift from above. The Lord in His love for you has not only given the means for sanctification, our being renewed in the image of Jesus, but He has granted to you the ammunition to keep killing sin like Rambo in a southeastern Asian triple-canopy jungle.
This week in our catechism time we only have one question to look at, and this will be true for our next lesson as well. In this part of the SC we are in the midst of talking about what it means to believe in Jesus, and how we are to follow Him as His disciples. Not only that, but specifically how that hope goes about affecting every area of our lives. The writing out of the Ten Commandments and all the implications they touch on is meant to encourage us to consider the way we are living and walking in light on the glorious work of our Trinitarian salvation won unto us by the decree of the Father, the work of the Son, and the application of it all by the Holy Spirit. Jesus speaks more about the fruit born of redemption than just about any other topic.
Believers ought to have no problem understanding that when we confess Christ as our Lord and Savior that this is not a one-time event. At least, they shouldn’t. However, many cultural Christians have this idea that as long as they get baptized, sign a card, say the magic words “I believe in Jesus” that whatever they do after that is immaterial. They said it publicly, or at least intimated it by attendance at a church building for a while. Maybe even their name is still on the register as a member somewhere, that ought to be enough to get into Heaven. Right? Well, no. Our Redeemer is pretty clear that if there is no fruit which follows faith than there is no there, there. As the old saying goes you are no more a Christian by taking up space in a pew than you are a car by sitting in a garage. If there is anything that drives unbelievers away from considering the truth claims of the Christian religion its false confessors who deny its power. Why should they want to be a Believer if it apparently makes no change in the lives of the people they meet?
We need to understand that if you have truly placed your trust in the Son of the Living God than you’ve entered into a citizenship in a new kingdom which has with it new responsibilities, well not so much new as in never before seen, but in the sense of a fresh relationship to the person and work of God, especially in His commandments. No longer do they have the ability to kill you dead, and no longer do you desire to be saved by them. To expand on that a little we see this language of new meaning new to you in the Psalms for example when the Psalmist in Psalm 96 uses the term new song.
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Urging the Current PCA Stated Clerk to Resign from the Standing Judicial Commission.
I’m by From a practical standpoint, the onerous duties of the Stated Clerk would seem to be enough for any one man. From an appearance standpoint, serving on the 24-man judicial commission and as Stated Clerk would seem to lodge undue denominational power with one man.
Dr. Bryan Chapell, recently-elected Stated Clerk of the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA), is a respected churchman with a sterling reputation, which is why he should immediately do two things: resign from the Standing Judicial Commission (SJC) and disavow the secretive political organizing group, the National Partnership, which has claimed him as a member and an ally.
The Stated Clerk of the PCA has “no special role as spiritual leader or teacher to the denomination” (BCO 3-2 b), but does possess considerable influence and power by virtue of his duties. He routes overtures to committees as he deems appropriate, arranges the docket of the General Assembly, makes or directs most of the public communications of the PCA, and is the chief administrative officer of the Administrative Committee of the General Assembly—the committee that sets the agenda of the PCA more than any other. He also gives advice to the innumerable questions posed to him and his office, and renders non-binding opinions as called upon, some of which are related to judicial or discipline matters.
Because of the power described and duties outlined above, he should resign from the SJC, the denomination’s highest court of appeal.
From a practical standpoint, the onerous duties of the Stated Clerk would seem to be enough for any one man. From an appearance standpoint, serving on the 24-man judicial commission and as Stated Clerk would seem to lodge undue denominational power with one man. Also, the SJC is a commission of the General Assembly, of which the Stated Clerk is parliamentarian and for which he sets the docket. While actual conflict of interest might rarely exist, apparent conflicts are easy to imagine at a time of great division and controversy in the denomination. It is fair to ask if the attention generated by SJC service (Dr. Chapell voted in the recent controversial case involving teaching elder Greg Johnson and Missouri Presbytery) is something a Stated Clerk should prudently avoid.
While the Book of Church Order does not prohibit the Stated Clerk from serving on the SJC, wisdom and precedent suggest stepping down is the right thing to do. Retired Stated Clerk Roy Taylor had just begun a second term on the SJC in 1997 when he was nominated for Stated Clerk. He resigned his SJC post even before being elected as Stated Clerk in 1998.
Besides resigning from the SJC for the reasons listed above, Dr. Chapell should also make clear his past and current relationship (if any) with the secretive political group, the National Partnership. Recently disclosed emails (seen by hundreds if not thousands and now well and truly in the public domain) reveal that Dr. Chapell was considered a member (at least by National Partnership leaders) and an ally. He was referred to as an “NP member” in 2014 and his SJC nomination was supported. He was thanked for “not wait(ing) the extra second to hear calls for ‘division’” in his role as General Assembly moderator in 2014 as well. Apparently, this was considered a helpful parliamentary maneuver by the National Partnership. If his seeming membership in the National Partnership had been generally known at the time one wonders how others might have viewed his moderator performance.
If Dr. Chapell has cut all ties with the National Partnership, well and good. A public statement to that effect would be wise. It would be helpful to know when he cut those ties with the group and why he did so. Disavowing any relationship to the National Partnership, and secret political groups more generally, would certainly increase confidence in his ability to serve as a Stated Clerk for the entire PCA.
Charles Inverness is a member of the Presbyterian Church in America and serves as a ruling elder in a congregation in Tennessee.
