My first reflex in the face of a good debate within a discipline other than my own is to try to find a way through the melee. One would like to stand so to speak outside the fray in order to adjudicate or mediate. In this case I cannot do that. The two players, Marshall and Pepper, seem to a layman to be playing on the same field, with some of the same landmarks on the skyline, but they seem to be playing by different rules, each team having brought along its own ball and its own referee. I see no way, and I am not sure there is a need, to stand between or above the two positions to adjudicate their difference.

I therefore must attempt to come at the conversation from two other perspectives, grateful to have been educated just a little by watching the expert jousting laid before us. I shall attempt, once as amateur historian of American culture, and once as simple “religious” citizen, to describe what seems to me to be at stake, giving attention especially to the gaps where the two papers — in what they agree about more than in their debate — leave this reader dangling.

What is the role of the constitutional promise of freedom of religion in late twentieth century America? As we enter the third century of life under the Constitution, the answer to this question is not clear, for the place of religion in the American polity has yet to be clearly demarcated. Consider a seemingly simple case. Mrs. Frances Quaring, a Nebraska farm housewife, believes that the Second Commandment prohibits her from having her photograph taken or from carrying or using photographs. The state of Nebraska, however, requires that applicants for a driver's license have their photographs taken and affixed to the license. The state prohibits driving without a valid driver's license. Thus, by state law Mrs. Quaring is denied that primary instrument of freedom and mobility in modern America— use of the automobile—because of her religious beliefs. Is Mrs. Quaring's mobility protected by the Constitutional guaranty of freedom of religion? The Supreme Court doesn't know. Five years ago it split four to four, and was thus unable to decide the case.

In October 1846, the men and women of the African Methodist Episcopal Church in St. Louis (African Church) met to consider whether they would remain with the Methodist Episcopal Church (MEC) or align with the recently-formed Methodist Episcopal Church, South (MECS). Two years earlier, in 1844, amid growing conflict over the question of slavery within the national Methodist Church, its General Conference had adopted a Plan of Separation that provided for the withdrawal of the southern Methodists and the creation of their own ecclesiastical government. The Plan provided that each Border State congregation would have the right to determine for itself by a vote of the majority with which of the two churches it would affiliate.

After the southern conferences had organized the new MECS in May 1845, the trustees of the all-white Fourth Street Methodist Church (Fourth Street Church), whose quarterly conference exercised nominal authority over the African Church, informed the black congregants that they could retain their house of worship only if they voted to join the southern Methodists. Throwing caution to the wind, and putting at risk a decade-and-a-half of patient efforts to achieve formal congregational independence within the Methodist Church, the black congregants voted decisively, by a 110 to 7 margin, to remain affiliated with the Northern Conference.

The question of the sources of legal normativity continues to haunt legal theorists to this day. While it is largely uncontroversial that modern legal systems claim to produce normative propositions, whether or not there are independent reasons to obey the law remains a contested issue. Those views, as varied as they may be, appear to largely agree that the law is a social phenomenon of definite ontological presence. In this article, I argue, through an analysis of the theories of three prominent ninth- to eleventh-century Muslim jurists, that early Muslim theories of lawmaking did not incorporate any ontologically coherent concept of law. Rather, lawmaking was understood as the case-by-case formulation of legal opinions by individual jurists who were presumed to be driven by the same moral drive, and therefore occupy the same moral order, as all subjects of law. In spite of this ad hoc epistemological view, Islamic jurisprudence conceived of legal pronouncements as fully normative. The normativity of those unstructured ad hoc individual pronouncements, I maintain, is the result of the centrality of moral purpose to early Muslim theories of law. It was the presumption of a common moral drive that gave the legal system structural coherence and allowed the advancement of those pronouncements as normative claims. Whereas recent historical and anthropological work shows that moral motivation was central to the manner in which sharīʿa operated as a system of social regulation, this article argues, along the same lines, that the pietistic drive was both conceptually and structurally indispensable for the normative coherence of early Islamic jurisprudence.

Two thousand years ago a Jewish lawyer demanded a definition of the term “neighbor.” … Whether the tale of the Samaritan answered his perplexities we cannot say. But he would surely have been astonished had he been informed that there were two answers to his question, one if he was asking as a lawyer, another if he was asking as a layman. To him, neighbor was neighbor and duty, duty. Perhaps this ancient lawyer's tale has a moral for law and lawyers today.

Ezekiel's lament emphasizes that oppression in general, and especially oppression of the needy and the distressed, is always an extremely immoral and illegal act. In the Bible, “oppression” describes the unilateral taking of another person's property or depriving her of her rights. Yet, sometimes even an apparently voluntary agreement might be oppressive. Preventing oppression, therefore, has became one of the declared aims of contractual doctrine, as in the well-known American doctrine of unconscionability.

Unconscionability and oppression are broad concepts that describe a wide-ranging array of cases and situations. Not surprisingly, therefore, despite the formidable and complex body of legal writing on the unconscionability doctrine, a great deal of ambiguity remains as to its theoretical basis, as well as its practical content.

In this article I seek to enrich the modern Western discussion by analyzing Jewish law doctrine which addresses the issue of oppressive exploitative contracts, an approach which is both unique and to date largely neglected by scholars in the area. This Jewish law doctrine developed in response to a specific kind of oppressive contract, in which a semi-monopolistic party exploits the distress of a needy party in order to demand an above-market price (hereinafter referred to as oppressive-exploitative contracts).

The idea of happiness and its pursuit have been taken up by thinkers in many times and places. This article examines the role of happiness as a concept and goal in medieval Islamic thought and, especially, in the work of Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-Ghazālī and Abū Naṣr al-Fārābī. In examining Ghazālī's and Fārābī's perspectives on happiness, the article looks at the influence of Plato and Aristotle on these medieval Islamic thinkers and puts Islamic thought on happiness in conversation with the views of the American founders.

The religion of our father Abraham was the religion of a single believer. He was, as described by Thomas Jefferson, a sect of one person calling for recognition by the overwhelming majority. But even his descendants remained a tiny majority among the population of the area; they were aware of being a small people (Deut 7:7) in danger of being absorbed by the Canaanite culture in the neighborhood.

The danger of acculturation was felt not only from the majority, but equally felt from other minority cults and religions (Num. 33:55; Jos 23:13), whose religious practices set a negative example for Israel and its religion. The rule prohibiting any participation in foreign cults and marginalizing religious minorities in Israel's society (for example, Exod 34:11-17) presents itself as a conditio-sine-qua-non in the covenant with the God of Israel.

Husband and Wife have a fight. It is the culmination of many such fights. In a rage, Husband packs his bags and leaves home. He never returns.

Husband is a reservist in the army. A war breaks out and he is called up to serve. He is sent abroad, never to return.

Husband is the captain of a ship. He leaves home for a long journey at sea. Wife does not join him. The ship sinks and nobody aboard survives.

Husband goes on a business trip abroad. Wife stays at home. Husband does not return when he is scheduled to. Nobody hears from him again.

Husband and Wife are separated during the Holocaust. Wife survives but is unable to locate Husband.

Years pass. Wife gets on with her life. She meets a man who proposes marriage to her. She wants to accept, but may she?

The answer to that question, if she is a traditional Jew who wishes to abide by the halakhah is no. According to the halakhah, Wife is still a married woman. If she remarries without unequivocally ascertaining Husband's death, she will have committed adultery, an act which is absolutely prohibited by Jewish law.

Through a number of profound studies the Honorable John T. Noonan Jr. (on Scholastic Analysis of Usury, on Contraception. A History of Its Treatment by the Catholic Theologians and the Canonists, on Abortion and marriage tribunals) has made visible how relevant the study of the historical context is for any scientific approach to burning issues of “natural law.” What was said by Christian churches on ethical questions makes sense for us only if we give full attention to the historical context. This is also a principle for the study of ethical questions in the Bible. While the biblical scholars concentrate mainly on what a teaching meant in illo tempore hermeneutics turns its main attention to the present contest of reflexions.

The role of sharing experience and reflexion so central in natural law questions, as Noonan sees it, is also central for the worldwide ecumenical learning community of all Christian churches. And this is for the Christian churches an absolute condition for their dialogue with all people of our time; for Christians a prerequisite for their becoming light for the world, salt for the earth.

“We cannot endow people with intelligence. Intelligence fundamentally is this capacity to ask questions, and this capacity is entirely from nature.”

My concern here is the rule of law, in all its operations. I select the unexpected word “operations” in order to telegraph a difference from much other natural law jurisprudence. The rule of law is not just a battery of operations; however, failure to appreciate the place of operations in the rule of law leads to a straw-man rule of law—and we know too well the fate of straw men. It is flesh-and-blood men and women whose operations bring about the rule of law, if a rule of law there is to be.

“In … recent times, … constitutional jurisprudence has tended, in the view of many, to move toward the de facto semi-establishment of a wholly secular understanding of the origin, nature and destiny of humankind and of the American nation. During this period, the exclusion of teaching about the role of religion in society, based partly upon a misunderstanding of First Amendment decisions, has ironically resulted in giving a dominant status to such wholly secular understandings in many national institutions.”

— The Williamsburg Charter

The Williamsburg Charter rightly focuses attention on the American contribution to religious liberty, which is a part of our Constitutional heritage. It has the virtue of trying to achieve consensus around issues of deep disagreement in various religious, education and political communities. For this reason, it makes a significant beginning in our thinking about religious pluralism.

It is not, of course, a perfect document and therefore needs critical evaluation. The original Constitution itself, although hailed in the opening paragraphs of the Charter as “the most wonderful work,” is not without its flaws. For example, the original Constitution tolerated human slavery and indentured service, and it limited the franchise to white, property-owning males.

Milner Ball's essay, and all of his work, ring with hope; that is, both with his clear-sighted, scholar's interest in finding and telling the truth, and with the optimism that comes of his belief that chaos has been overcome. His thought is an inspiration; and his lyrical prose is, for all of its somber truth, a joy to read.

In the spirit he brings to his work, I suggest that the Hebraic religious tradition contains a richer theological basis for the claim that law is a medium (or, perhaps more modestly, a conversation) than he seems to allow for; and I suggest that there is perhaps more hope to be found in human relationships in a lawyer's professional life than there is in the institutional forms provided by the government—more in the law office than in the administrative apparatus that Professor Ball prefers to invoke for examples of medium.

With those suggestions out of the way, I want to argue that Professor Ball's characterization of property ownership as “the apparatus of bulwark law” is premature. I want to suggest that the bulwark-like difficulties in property law are less the essence of ownership than a perversion of ownership.

The article comparatively maps state involvement in the establishment of filiation and the placement of destitute children into new families. It first reports findings from an expert survey that investigates four key areas of state involvement—the legal framework, the role of courts and ministries, guardianship regulations, and financial support and services for destitute children—across fourteen jurisdictions, twelve Muslim-majority countries, and two Muslim-minority countries. Overall, the placement of children into new families remains a sensitive issue because it is linked to different communities “claiming” the child. In principle, the states surveyed do not allow the creation of new families across religious lines. Using Jordan as a case study, the article then focuses on the implications of one particular survey finding: non-Muslims in Muslim-majority countries sometimes cannot have children placed into their homes. This finding is based on qualitative data collected in Jordan on adoption (tabannī) in the Greek Catholic community. The article argues that in settings of legal pluralism, state involvement affects different religious communities in different ways. In Jordan, due to structural factors, the state shapes Islamic family law differently than the family laws applied by Christian communities. This leads to the unequal development of different bodies of religious law and thereby to the unequal treatment of Muslim and Christian citizens.

Lithuania formally distinguishes between what it terms “traditional,” “state-recognized,” “registered,” and “unregistered” religions. Though constitutionally Lithuania is a secular state and all religions are declared equal vis-à-vis the state, religious communities recognized as “traditional” have, nonetheless, been favored by the state. They have been granted preferential treatment both in the legislation and extralegal handling by various state actors and institutions. At the same time, traditional religious communities are formally equal among themselves and vis-à-vis the state. However, the size of their membership puts them into two distinct camps. While the Catholic community constitutes 77 percent of the country's population, the remaining eight traditional religious communities together hardly make up 6 percent, of which 4 percent are Orthodox, with Lutherans, Calvinists, Greek Catholics, Old Believers, Judaists, Karaites, and Sunni Muslims making up the remaining numbers. This article focuses on one of the smaller traditional religious communities, Sunni Muslims, and through this example seeks to show looming complications arising from the current legal system for the governance of religion in Lithuania, which, as a country, starts inter alia being affected by the appearance of revivalist and other “nontraditional” forms of Islam on its territory. The article argues that with the changing makeup of the Lithuanian religious landscape—not related only to Islam—the current system of the governance of religion is not only outdated but also unsustainable and needs to be thoroughly overhauled to come more in line with the developing social reality.

In 2021, the debate about the spaces in which Europe’s Muslim citizens should be permitted to wear religious veils was reanimated by the introduction of new prohibitions introduced in Switzerland and France, and the decision of the Court of Justice of the European Union in joined cases C-804/18 and C-341/19. This article examines the jurisprudence of the European Court of Human Rights concerning veiling. We argue that veil bans reduce the ability of Muslim women to actualize themselves as citizens by limiting their capacity to develop their identity through autonomous action. As such, we argue, the right ultimately at stake—which should protect rights in respect of veiling—is the right to a private life under Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights, and judicial and popular conceptions of veiling should be reoriented to accommodate this view. Doing so, we argue, highlights the full range of functions that veiling implicates—including religious but also secular identarian concerns and exposes how a usually expansive right has been curtailed in cases involving veiling.