Many cases that stagger up through the appellate system, begging for U.S. Supreme Court review, are often deemed of too little consequence to light up the life of the justices.
Connecticut had an obscure little time bomb of a case attempt to sneak in through the back door of the high court this year, but the justices ran from the room, screaming.
The case pitted the Bishop Seabury Church in Groton against the Episcopal Diocese in Connecticut, in a matter that was either a routine quarrel over property rights and contract law — or a thundering First Amendment case on issues relating to the government’s intervention in matters of religion.
It was no particular surprise that the U.S. Supreme Court declined to review; the issue at hand in the Groton case has been litigated to death across the country — although not necessarily with much clarity. The Connecticut Supreme Court ruled in favor of the Episcopal Diocese — in a decision that seemed about right, or at least not unusual.
The Groton church was one of the nation’s conservative Episcopal congregations that became cranky with the national church, on the matter of gay marriage and gay bishops in particular — and on a bit of a leftist tilt by the national church in general. The Episcopalians, the Presbyterians, the United Church of Christ — a number of Protestant denominations have gone through the process of rebellion in recent years, as some of the folks in the pew wanted more chats about Jesus and less talk about gay rights and air pollution.
But the Groton legal case, and many others like it, were not about theology, politics, or the sexual orientation of the guy up there at the pulpit. The odd matter of law to be resolved: who exactly owns the church property, when a congregation escapes from the warm embrace of the denomination to which it belonged?
Besides the mind-numbing questions of what any particular congregational or denominational documents might suggest; besides the questions of bequests to a church (or, were the bequests to the denomination?), one of the underlying issues is, whether the government should give a darn. Should the courts be empowered to intercede in matters of “religion,” when, in this case, the Episcopal diocese flexes its authoritarian muscles?
The Massachusetts pastor who, in essence, invented Rhode Island as a haven for all religions, offered up his take on all this in the 1600s. As Roger Williams put it, the Ten Commandments were written on two tablets: one for God-man relationships; one for man-man relationships.
The “Groton” kinds of cases (going back to the 1800s) have tended to tilt in favor of the denominational authorities. But, in truth, the decisions have been all over the place. One of the complications involves the difference between denominations with muscular hierarchy, as opposed to denominations more relaxed about whether anyone is actually in charge.
In one the nation’s earliest cases (1872) questioning court deference to church authority, the Supreme Court held its collective nose and opined that “whenever the questions of discipline, or of faith, or ecclesiastical rule, custom or law have been decided (by church hierarchy), the legal tribunals must accept such decisions as final, and as binding on them.”
Discipline and faith? Sure. But what about property ownership and other such stuff that smacks of civil law? As the High Court suggested in another case, “neutral principles” of law might give the courts a reason to muck around a bit.
Is any of this clear? Only God knows for sure.
Laurence D. Cohen is a freelance writer.
