A Wiccan wins one in South Carolina

If you ask politely, Darla Kaye Wynne will acknowledge that she is indeed a Wiccan, which is to say, a Witch — but a Witch in the same uppercase way that Muslims are Islamic and Baptists are Christians. Her religious beliefs are rooted in pagan rites that antedate Christianity by a thousand years. Sad to say, some good Christians in Chester County have treated her in a most un-Christian way.

Perhaps her troubles will ease now that the 4th U.S. Circuit has ruled in her favor. Then again, maybe not. A huge part of the history of religion is a history of bigotry, zealotry and gross intolerance of nonbelievers. South Carolinians are probably no better and no worse than humankind everywhere.

Wynne’s story is not especially novel, and the 4th Circuit’s opinion of July 22 is not exactly a landmark in the field of First Amendment jurisprudence. Nonetheless, the case merits a few minutes of your time.

The story begins in 1997, when Wynne moved from the cold climes of Alaska to the warmer fields of South Carolina. She was single, aged 33. She found employment as a home-care aide and driver for Alzheimer’s patients. With her parrot, her Yorkshire terrier and two pet raccoons, she settled in Great Falls (pop. 2,194), some 40 miles north of Columbia. Largely out of curiosity, she began attending monthly meetings of the town council. Usually fewer than a dozen citizens showed up.

The meetings always opened with prayer. Everyone would stand and bow his head. Typically, one of the councilmen would ask “our heavenly Father” to guide them to beneficial decisions. “In the name of Jesus Christ, we pray. Amen.”

Wynne tried to show respect, but she grew increasingly uncomfortable. She asked Mayor Henry Clayton Starnes for a nonsectarian invocation. He refused. She suggested a rotation of local ministers. No way.

Once she stayed outside the council’s meeting room until the prayer ended. She was told she had waived her scheduled opportunity to speak. A councilman asked for a public hearing on her protests and her proposed alternatives. A hundred townspeople turned out to support the status quo. Several Christian ministers filed statements defending the council’s policy. Cries were heard of “Hallelujah!” The mayor told Wynne: “This is the way we’ve always done things, and we’re not going to change.”

Finally she brought suit in U.S. District Court, not for money damages, but for an injunction against patently sectarian invocations. Backed by the American Jewish Congress and the American Civil Liberties Union, she won. The town appealed to the 4th Circuit. She won again. Circuit Judge Diana Gribbon Motz spoke for a three-judge panel in ruling that the council’s invocations clearly advanced one faith in preference to others.

Judge Motz distinguished Wynne’s case from the often-cited case of Marsh v. Chambers. In that case, the Supreme Court in 1983 narrowly approved prayers to open sessions of the state legislature in Nebraska. She said: “The invocations at issue here, which specifically call upon Jesus Christ, are simply not constitutionally acceptable legislative prayer like that in Marsh.” As part of the council’s public business, it may not ritually seek guidance “from a deity in whose divinity only those of one faith believe.”

The Great Falls Council, Motz wrote, remains free to engage in nonsectarian invocations prior to its meetings. “The opportunity to do so may provide a source of strength to believers, and a time of quiet reflection for all. This opportunity does not, however, provide the town council, or any other legislative body, license to advance its own religious views in preference to all others, as the town council did here.”

This strikes me as a sound exposition of Establishment Clause jurisprudence. The Constitution says that Congress (and by extension, the states) shall make “no law” respecting an establishment of religion, but “no law” hasn’t meant literally “no law” since the day the ink dried on the founders’ labor. It is a passing irony that the Supreme Court itself begins its session by asking God to save “the United States and this honorable court.” The town council of Great Falls knows where to look for both divine and legal guidance.

While Great Falls chews on its defeat, the plaintiff Wynne seeks surcease. Her home has been vandalized nine times. Hoodlums have killed her cat and hanged its gutted body. Someone put sand in the gas tank of her truck. Townspeople have ostracized her. Even so, she comes across over the telephone as the most cheerful Witch I ever met. My acquaintance is limited, to be sure, but in this one I stand on the lady’s side.

Write to Mr. Kilpatrick by e-mail to kilpatjj@aol.com.