"Almighty God hath created the mind free. . . ."-Thomas Jefferson

"It is the duty of every man to render to the Creator such homage, and such only, as he believes to be acceptable to him."-James Madison

"We are a religious people whose institutions presuppose a Supreme Being." -William O. Douglas

"Political decisions must be independent of any conception of the good life or what gives value to life."-Ronald Dworkin

However different the motives-from Thales' proclamation that "all things are water," to William of Ockham's denial of universals, to Harvard professor Richard Lewontin's acknowledgment of science's "a priori commitment . . . to materialism"-men have attempted to compartmentalize faith, to separate it into a realm apart from other disciplines, especially politics (in Hobbes' political vision, for instance, religion was reduced to "the kingdom of the fairies"). In the American experiment, this division is manifested in secular notions of "separation of church and state"-a phrase that in and of itself not only expresses this partition but explains the secularist fervency for the wall that makes it a reality.

A grand irony permeates the secular enthusiasm for the separationist ideal, however-and that's because the ideal is, essentially, theological. Despite the peripheral miasma of the philosophes, there were no Rousseaus, Marats, or any Jacobins among those who transformed this particular thought into extension. Church-state separation was forged in a Judeo-Christian weltanschauung on the axiom that mankind was created by a God who respected human autonomy, and from that theological construct the entire church-state separation labyrinth arose. Secularist rationale was no more involved than was superstring theory.

Whatever degree they nourished the final product, the precursors to separationism were all theologically motivated. Roger Williams-the first in the New World to incorporate separationist principles into positive law-was a dogmatic religionist who, based on his theology, consigned heretics to hell, but who, based on that same theology, wasn't going to allow the state to interfere with a heretic's choice to go there. Quaker William Penn's most comprehensive defense of religious liberty was titled The Great Case of Liberty of Conscience Once More Briefly Debated and Defended by the Authority of Reason, Scripture, and Antiquity. John Locke's A Letter Concerning Toleration spouted the theological position that a coerced faith could never save a soul, and thus the state shouldn't coerce faith. Section 16 of Virginia's pivotal Bill of Rights talked about the "duty which we owe to our Creator." The Memorial of the Presbytery of Hanover to the General Assembly of Virginia argued that "when our blessed Saviour declares his kingdom not of this world he renounces all dependence upon state power." Madison's Memorial and Remonstrance (written against tax money going to churches) said that before "any man can be considered as a member of civil society, he must be considered as a subject of the Governor of all the universe." Jefferson's Act for Establishing Religious Freedom warned that civil attempts to burden a person's faith were "a departure from the plan of the holy author of our religion."

These concepts culminated into the U.S. Constitution, which-in contrast-is devoid of even a generic "Governor of the universe" (much less a "blessed Saviour"). Yet secular separationists shouldn't make too much out of this "godless Constitution," because it was theology-dead white European male Protestant theology-that prompted the framers to exclude religion from the document, the idea being that because God created us as free and autonomous beings, the surest way to protect that God-given freedom was to keep the government (at least the federal one) as far away from religion as possible. Thus when antireligious secularists beat the separationist drum, they're promoting a concept rooted in archetypical premises antithetical to their own. It's like going to the polls to vote against democracy.

Writing for the Notre Dame Law School, Jonathan Mills argued that "strict separationism," far from being indicative of a creeping secularization of American polity, rather represents "a widely unnoticed reassertion of the original theological rationales against the establishment of religion," and that "the wall of separation between church and state is fundamentally a 'religious institution.'"

How ironic and self-defeating, then, when liberal theorists use church-state separation to justify the exclusion of religious views from the public square. Church-state separation, the foundation structures on which they have built their secular edifices, is rooted-not in Humean naturalism or Nietzschean perspectivalism-but in the premise that we exist only because a sovereign God created us, and that this "Governor of the universe" has endowed us with certain unalienable rights. And because these rights are derived, not in fleeting, subjective, and artificial constructs, but in the eternal God Himself, for a society to infringe upon these rights is, in the words of the one who wrote the First Amendment, "an offense against God, not against man" (hardly the language of People for the American Way or ACLU amici).

How separationist discourse has degenerated from the rhetoric and rationale of Roger Williams to that of Madalyn Murray O'Hair is a valid question; but the fact remains that the secular hijacking of church-state separation has left secularists in a fundamental conundrum: whatever naturalistic, pragmatic, or valuational rationale for their positions, what they advocate is essentially a religiously based public policy that excludes religion from public policy. When the application of the principle contradicts the principle itself, that's quite a paradox.

Paradoxes, of course, are part of phenomenal reality. Berry's, for instance, refers to "the least integer not nameable in fewer than 19 syllables" (yet does so in just 18!). Thus, if secular separationists can live with their paradoxes, then antisecular antiseparationists should be able to live with theirs as well–dead white European male Protestant theology–that prompted the framers to exclude religion from the document, the idea being that because God created us as free and autonomous beings, the surest way to protect that God-given freedom was to keep the government (at least the federal one) as far away from religion as possible. Thus when antireligious secularists beat the separationist drum, they're promoting a concept rooted in archetypical premises antithetical to their own. It's like going to the polls to vote against democracy.

Writing for the Notre Dame Law School, Jonathan Mills argued that "strict separationism," far from being indicative of a creeping secularization of American polity, rather represents "a widely unnoticed reassertion of the original theological rationales against the establishment of religion," and that "the wall of separation between church and state is fundamentally a 'religious institution.'"

How ironic and self-defeating, then, when liberal theorists use church-state separation to justify the exclusion of religious views from the public square. Church-state separation, the foundation structures on which they have built their secular edifices, is rooted-not in Humean naturalism or Nietzschean perspectivalism-but in the premise that we exist only because a sovereign God created us, and that this "Governor of the universe" has endowed us with certain unalienable rights. And because these rights are derived, not in fleeting, subjective, and artificial constructs, but in the eternal God Himself, for a society to infringe upon these rights is, in the words of the one who wrote the First Amendment, "an offense against God, not against man" (hardly the language of People for the American Way or ACLU amici).

How separationist discourse has degenerated from the rhetoric and rationale of Roger Williams to that of Madalyn Murray O'Hair is a valid question; but the fact remains that the secular hijacking of church-state separation has left secularists in a fundamental conundrum: whatever naturalistic, pragmatic, or valuational rationale for their positions, what they advocate is essentially a religiously based public policy that excludes religion from public policy. When the application of the principle contradicts the principle itself, that's quite a paradox.

Paradoxes, of course, are part of phenomenal reality. Berry's, for instance, refers to "the least integer not nameable in fewer than 19 syllables" (yet does so in just 18!). Thus, if secular separationists can live with their paradoxes, then antisecular antiseparationists should be able to live with theirs as well.