Having grown up in Carroll County, which is like having grown up in any small town in America where white Protestants outnumbered all the others combined, I didn't hear too much about the basic rule for a social gathering, which is never discuss politics or religion.
Democrats and Republicans deliberately got under each other's skin all the time, and as for religion, the presence of Catholics and Jews was given little thought.
Muslims lived in Africa or someplace with lots of sand and little water, and were of little concern in Manchester, or even the big town of Westminster.
That's why it was socially acceptable to ask the blessings before dinner at a social club or other public event and end it with, "In Jesus' name we pray, amen."
I would cringe a little and look out of the corner of my downcast eyes to see how the Jews in our midst took that, especially since they were in many ways our most active and generous members, but they never said anything.
I asked a Jewish friend about it once, and he said, "It's sometimes necessary to be more forgiving of your neighbors when you are in the minority."
But the majority Christians weren't being malicious; they were merely oblivious. None of them would use the opening or closing prayer as a challenge, unless, of course, it was at one of the occasional Ku Klux Klan meetings that were held from time to time.
My family was not on fire with The Spirit; they were Easter and Christmas church-goers, believers, but not with a capital B until later in life, when dad's decision to join the church choir stoked up church participation and the awareness of the need to tend to the spiritual essence of human beings.
Before that, however, Mom and Dad understood that children need some teaching in the church, so they sent me to Sunday School, beginning when I was four or five.
I choose to believe that it was their desire to enlighten me that led them to expose me to Lutheran teachings, and not to quell the rumor around town that we were a Jewish family, as evidenced by the fact that dad was a storekeeper and mom had dark, curly hair, and we were newcomers, not related to anyone local.
I didn't ponder much about that rumor, because I didn't learn about it until many years later. Nor did I give much thought to how my life might have been different if they had sent me to the Baptist Church, in which my mother was raised, rather than the church of my father's childhood.
Now that I think about it, I believe that the decision was made at least in part because the Lutheran Church was within walking distance for a 4-year-old.
In any case, I was delighted with Sunday School. My teachers were sweet ladies, kind and gentle, and they introduced me to wonderful stories.
I recall the relief of feeling accepted in hearing the story of Christ telling the busy-bodies to let the little children come to him, for they are the future of the world. In those days, grownups were more likely to tell the kids to sit down and be quiet.
I liked the story about the fishes and loaves, even when I got in trouble for blowing a whole dollar that I got for my birthday on Hershey bars and Cokes for my playmates. Sharing, it seemed, had its limits in a capitalistic culture.
The story of Daniel in the lions' den got me through those days in grade school when I failed to do my homework.
And I often think of the story of the Good Samaritan; you should be willing to help people when they need it, even if they aren't like you and your group.
But as I write about these childhood influences, I am reminded of another story that had a big impact on me: The admonition to not be a publican (at first, I thought it was Republican, but they set me straight), and pray loudly and display your piety in public.
The point of the story was that this important guy liked to pray loudly and show off his wealth and piety, even if it meant showing up some of his neighbors. He was reminded that it is much better to be privately sincere than to use religion as a way of impressing people.
I remembered that story again this past week while reading about the prayer offered by Commissioner Richard Rothschild before a government meeting.
Commissioner Doug Howard objected. Others will take sides and everyone will forget their Sunday School lessons, which shows you why it's a good idea to keep religion and politics separate.
