Congressional hearings are generally tedious affairs. Speakers give rushed, pro-forma statements while submitting their full statements for the record. Witnesses from government agencies are tirelessly on message. Occasionally someone will say something unexpected; a legislator might ask harsh questions, but only until a red light comes on, at which point a member of the opposing party is likely to throw the witness a softball. The lawmakers themselves blithely walk in and out of the room to go to votes, get a snack, take a nap—who knows?—while the witnesses, press, and audience sit bored and starving. The lawmaker then returns to ask an inevitably repetitive question.

On a Tuesday afternoon early this summer, however, a Senate subcommittee hosted a rare hearing that was an intellectual treat. The hearing, which occurred amid preparations for President Ronald Reagan’s state funeral and less than a week before the Supreme Court ruled on the reference to God in the Pledge of Allegiance, addressed the enduring debate over the separation of church and state. Although only three Senators were on hand to hear the testimony, they seemed genuinely engrossed in the proceedings.

The hearing started out pretty much like any other. Nashala Hearn, a 12-year-old who was expelled from school for wearing a hijab, was one of the witnesses. Barney Clark, a plain-spoken Texas man whose city-run senior’s center stopped allowing his prayer group to hold meetings there, told the committee and a standing-room only audience, “we’ve been taught to turn the other cheek. There comes a time when you run out of cheeks and have to speak out.” Senators supporting the expression of religion shouldn’t surprise or entertain anyone (in fact, the Senate had already voted unanimously to support the current wording of the Pledge, and would later designate June 14 “National Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag Day”). So what attracted the crowd?

The hearing was noteworthy because of the presence of Roy Moore, the former Chief Justice of the Alabama Supreme Court who lost his job after refusing a court order to remove a monument of the Ten Commandments that he had placed in the rotunda of the Alabama Judicial Building. Moore’s forceful presence and the intensity of his speech held the attention of the room while he explained the beliefs that have brought him a large following among conservative Christians and notoriety among liberal humanists. Since being removed from the court—his monument stored in a closet—Moore has challenged the decision to the Supreme Court, and begun supporting candidates in Alabama who share his views.

Moore’s appearance in the Capitol was a chance for Republican Senators John Cornyn (Texas) and Richard Shelby (Ala.) to play nice with a man who wields growing influence that he could turn toward electoral politics. (Slate’s Timothy Noah and others speculated that Moore could have become the conservative Ralph Nader if he chose to run for president with the Constitution Party this year. He declined to become a spoiler and continues to deflect questions about his political ambitions.)

In the case of the Pledge of Allegiance, the Supreme Court dodged some culture-war shrapnel by dismissing the suit without ruling on the merits of the case. The liberal bomb-thrower in this case, Michael Newdow, claimed that his daughter’s presence in public school gave him standing to sue. The 9th Circuit Court of Appeals, a court notorious among conservatives for its liberal decisions, agreed. The Supreme Court, however, did not, because Newdow has only partial custody of his daughter.

Nonetheless, the decision is unlikely to prevent a conservative Christians from escalating their cultural war against a society they fear is abandoning their values. The public display of the Ten Commandments has become a cause celebre for this movement—a symbolic reaction to perceived anti-Christian bias in government, the judiciary and the media—and Moore has been the movement’s figurehead.

The title of the Senate Judiciary Committee hearing, “Beyond the Pledge of Allegiance: Hostility to Religious Expression in the Public Sphere,” displayed the Republicans’ modus operandi. By putting Moore on a panel with Hearn and Clark, Moore’s ouster from the court was meant to seem like another example of official hostility to religion. The First Amendment prohibits the government from inhibiting the free expression of religion, and Moore sees himself as a victim of government overreach and activist judges.

But the courts that ordered Moore to remove his monument cited another part of the First Amendment, the clause that prohibits government from establishing an official religion. As a state judge, the courts ruled, Moore was not a victim of government overreach—he was a purveyor of it. By the way, both Clark and Hearn were eventually allowed to practice their religion, which Cornyn, Shelby and Democrat Russ Feingold (Wisc.) agreed was a happy ending. So the presence of these temporarily oppressed witnesses made the premise of the hearing a bit weak.

The hearing was a chance for Republicans to decry “activist judges,” but more importantly it was a chance for the party to placate Moore. Shelby, who spent most of the hearing at war with his grin, effusively praised Moore and told him, “I wish you were still on the court and God bless you.” But more important to Moore than these words was the forum to display his oratorical brilliance and flawed Constitutional interpretation. Fortunately, the panel also included Brent Walker, a religious scholar who opposes Moore. He made an eloquent speech that concluded with a suggestion to Moore that he write the Ten Commandments in his heart, rather than on stone.

When Moore’s turn to speak came, he delivered a coherent but seemingly unscripted speech, quoting historical documents and speeches from numerous papers in front of him. But as he spoke, and answered each question with a different quote, his lines of argument became somewhat entangled.

Moore’s first argument is that regardless of the First Amendment’s prohibition against the establishment of religion, America’s specifically Christian roots cannot be denied, as the premise of the Declaration of Independence is that each person is created equal and endowed by their Creator with certain rights. Moore believes this—along with irrefutable evidence that the United States was founded by Christians—means Christianity is already, in a sense, the established religion of this country.

Sen. John Cornyn (R-Texas), who chaired the meeting, endorsed Moore’s view. “The pledge affirms what we all know to be true—that our nation was founded ‘under God,’” Cornyn said in introducing the hearing.

Interestingly, the monument itself makes this argument. Two slats excerpting the Ten Commandments are propped on top of a large cube of marble that bears quotes supporting the theory that the United States is based on a Christian foundation. These quotes include the Declaration of Independence, the National Motto (“In God We Trust”), the Judiciary Act of 1789 (“So Help Me God”), and, yes, the Pledge of Allegiance.

Moore’s next argument is that displaying the Ten Commandments is only acknowledgement of the above history, and not an establishment of religion. Moore says that “religion” should be defined more specifically than it commonly is today. A religion would include a creed, rituals, etc. The Constitution doesn’t disallow the simple acknowledgement that God exists, Moore argues. (And God must exist, or how could we all be created equal with equal rights? If we weren’t, Moore implies, the entire basis for this country would fall apart. The logic is off here, I think, but never mind.)

“We have simply confused today the acknowledgement of God with religion,” Moore told the committee. And later, “God is not religion. It never has been.” But Moore does mean a specific God—the one who gave the Ten Commandments to Moses and believes homosexuality and abortion are sins.

If you still think that the display of the Ten Commandments somehow violates the “establishment clause” of the Constitution, Moore’s third argument is that the Bill of Rights doesn’t limit the actions of states, only the Congress, so it doesn’t apply to him.

However the Alabama Constitution, written in 1901, also prohibits government from establishing a religion, directing:
“That no religion shall be established by law; that no preference shall be given by law to any religious sect, society, denomination, or mode of worship; that no one shall be compelled by law to attend any place of worship; nor to pay any tithes, taxes, or other rate for building or repairing any place of worship, or for maintaining any minister or ministry; that no religious test shall be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under this state; and that the civil rights, privileges, and capacities of any citizen shall not be in any manner affected by his religious principles.”
Does the display of the Ten Commandments violate these commandments?

To answer this question, it helps to ask why Moore wanted to put the Ten Commandments on such display in the first place, and why he is unhappy with the compromise that has been reached since he was thrown off the court. Currently, a smaller image of the Ten Commandments is on display with other artifacts in the Alabama Supreme Court as part of an historic exhibit. “To surround [the 10 Commandments] with historical documents…puts it in the past tense, makes it a part of history and not relevant today,” Moore said.

But confusingly, Moore’s argument and his monument are grounded in history. If it isn’t historic that the Founders were Christian, and that the moral basis for our legal code comes from the Bible, it implies that all new laws and legal decisions also stem from His guidance. And isn’t using a court to make Christian beliefs “relevant today,” illegal promotion of a specific religion by the government?

Although the display of the Ten Commandments in the Alabama Supreme Court might seem to create a conflict between Alabama’s secular laws and “higher laws,” I don’t think Moore means to treat the Ten Commandments as legal doctrine. He calls the Commandments the “moral foundation of our laws”—a sentiment echoed in the title of Moore’s group, Foundation for Moral Law.

I think Moore put the Commandments on display first as a provocation, and second as a tool for proselytizing. But the Commandments, in Moore’s court, may also have an intimidating effect. Moore himself, stubborn and intense, with an emphatic wave of hair and a constantly put-upon expression, is intimidating enough without the word of God beside him.

Finally, Moore took the opportunity to lobby for his job and his monument. “I think Congress should take an action to rectify this situation,” Moore told reporters after exiting the hearing room with a cadre of aids and supporters wearing Ten Commandment lapel pins. “I would like Congress to take the monument and put it in the Capitol.” If he were still a judge, what Moore is doing might accurately be called judicial activism.