Two elements of a Washington Post story that ran over the weekend appeal to me: small-town folks and a battle over church and state.
In my time with The Associated Press, I enjoyed going to the hinterlands of Texas and interviewing ordinary people, such as the time I wrote about a county in "Bush Country" that split almost evenly between George W. Bush and Al Gore in the 2000 election.
Similarly, I tend to devour clashes over religious rights in the public arena (call it a personal weakness) and last year did a 2,000-word piece titled "Faith-Based Fracas" for Christianity Today.
So when I came across this Post story on the Ten Commandments stirring a fight in a Virginia school district, I knew I wanted to read it.
The top of the report:
PEARISBURG, VA. - Nearly 12 years ago, in the aftermath of the shootings at Columbine High School, officials quietly posted the Ten Commandments on the walls of Giles County public schools. It was a natural reaction, said residents of this rural county peppered with churches, to such an alarming moral breakdown.
There the commandments stayed, within nondescript frames that also featured the first page of the U.S. Constitution, stirring little controversy until December. That's when an anonymous complaint prompted the superintendent to order the removal of the displays. The decision sparked such passionate community backlash that the county school board voted to post them again in January.
Now the fight appears headed to the courts as residents of Giles County, along Virginia's rugged, pious southwestern spine, fight what they call mounting pressure from Washington and Richmond to secularize their public institutions. The district also runs a so-called "Bible Bus" so that students can get privately organized Christian instruction off site during the middle of the school day.
That's a pretty straightforward start, except for the reference to "so-called 'Bible Bus.'" That choice of wording screams: CAN YOU REALLY BELIEVE THEY DO THAT!?
Go ahead and read the whole story.
Here's what you'll find: Well-meaning Christian locals who don't know anything about the law or the Constitution. Setting them straight are legal scholars and smart people from the American Civil Liberties Union and the Freedom From Religion Foundation.
In general, this story is heavy on vague generalizations and suffers from a frustrating lack of specificity. The story references the school superintendent (no name given), the pastor who suggested the Ten Commandments display (no name given), the school's legal counsel (no name given) and many residents (but strikingly few actually named).
Here's who's quoted by name: On the side that supports placing the Ten Commandments in the schools, we hear from an elementary school principal and a 16-year-0ld student. On the side that questions the Ten Commandments display, we hear from the co-president of the Freedom From Religion Foundation, a professor of constitutional law, a 23-year-old former student and an ACLU member who says the "good Christians" of Giles County have a "distorted" knowledge of the Constitution.
Here's a typical section from the story:
Some of the county's government buildings feature posters reading "In God We Trust" near their entrances. After the Supreme Court ruled that prayer in school was unconstitutional, the district introduced its weekly Bible Bus, which facilitates religious classes for most of the county's elementary school students. That initiative is legal, according to local officials, because it's voluntary, and the bus is privately owned and operated.
Elsewhere in the nation, schools are trying to keep religion in public schools - including prayers at high school football games and in classrooms, and nativity scenes on school property. The Freedom From Religion Foundation every year receives about 300 formal complaints, many involving school districts, according to Gaylor. Yet she called the Giles County case "one of the most egregious we've seen."
Don't get me wrong: The perspectives of the ACLU and the Freedom From Religion Foundation are essential to this story. They are, after all, the groups planning a lawsuit.
But did anyone at the Post consider seeking a different opinion from advocates on the other side? Someone with perhaps a bit more legal insight than a 16-year-old student or an elementary school principal? (Say the Alliance Defense Fund. Or the American Center for Law and Justice. Or the Liberty Legal Counsel. Or ... well, you get the idea.)
There's a good story here. But by failing to give each side a chance to make its case fully, the Post blows it. And that's unfortunate.