The Wall Must Tumble Down

In the Cambridge Public Library, just before the stacks of books, a left over a century ago by the building's donor. These tablets bear the Ten Commandments, religious exhortations from Proverbs and St. Paul the Apostle, headed by the inscription, "BUILT IN GRATITUDE TO GOD TO HIS SON JESUS CHRIST AND TO THE HOLY GHOST."

One Arlington resident has caused quite a stir, vowing to sue the city if it does not remove the plaques, Local politicians and historians have responded that the plaques represent a link to the city's past, and since the plaques display a disclaimer next to the wall, they should remain for their historical significance.

When a public building is dedicated to one faith, it is difficult to argue that the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment has not been violated. While Cambridge politicians and historians vow to protect the plaques for their historical significance, respect for our nation's Constitution demands that they must come down.

While the "separation of church and state" is clear as a principle, it is not so easy to put into practice. Frederick Hastings Rindge built a beautiful building in 1889, adorned it with religious messages on the plaques and donated it to the city of Cambridge for use as a library--under the provisions that the tablets "be maintained forever in the same position...or some equally public and conspicuous position."

Cambridge was not the same city 100 years ago that it is today. There were fewer voices to take offense to Rindge's legacy. But the plaques were misplaced then, and should not remain simply because they have endured for more than a century.

Supporters of the tablets suggest that the buildings are a valuable part of Cambridge's history. "Removing them would be a destructive act all out of proportion to the offense they may cause to some individuals," said Charles M. Sullivan, executive directors of the Cambridge Historical Commission.

Sullivan's point, that the plaques do little harm, is well taken, but their prominent place within a public building--even as a historical artifact--suggests that the city of Cambridge endorses certain religious views. We cannot apply a utilitarian calculus to our civil rights. While the Constitution seeks to prevent any such state church, there is no such guarantee to local history. If the plaques would be unjustified today, we cannot keep them there because they were put up yesterday.

But are the plaques unjustified? The plaques are quite explicit. They argue that the building was built under the aegis of the Christian religion and they admonish the viewers to follow the teachings of both the Old and New Testaments. That message, nailed to the wall of the library, cannot be offset by a small disclaimer.

While Rindge may have donated the library with the greatest love and Christian charity, the city of Cambridge cannot endorse his faith simply because of his money. To do so would suggest that our public buildings, and our private liberties, are up for sale. Any donor can violate the Establishment Clause, or perhaps other civil rights, as the price for their munificence. The plaques should be removed from a public library and placed where they belong--in a Church or in a museum.